Things to come…… Some science,words and paint.

This brilliant, brave post is a reminder to all of us to give thanks for the joys and love that we experience in this life. Benjamin is truly inspiring.

Originally posted on Expressions of my life - An evolution of art.:

Another year is quickly coming to a close a year I have to say I never imagined would have happened. If your new to my readership I suggest you find my journals and do some reading if your not then you understand how desperate I am to leave this year behind. It’s funny how Parkinson’s has changed my perception. Be it the chemical changes that happen because of Parkinson’s or because of the medications used to manage the symptoms. What ever the case be it’s a very real and interesting transition. I was discussing with an old friend the other night, he, a far more learned man than I. Discussing the personal journey of being present a ones mind and body become ravaged with time and disease ( disorder ) in my case. It is truly a terrifying and amazing process to watch, feel and be engulfed in. As I…

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Share Your Blogger Profile – All Bloggers Welcome

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

You can use this thread to post your blogger profile or bio. Share the one you currently use or write a new one for us here if you like. If you use a previous one just copy and paste it so people can read it here. Links and images are ok if you know the html code to host them. This would be a great opportunity to clearly present what you blog about so that new connections might be made. People constantly ask “how to build their audience” well this is one of the ways. Through interaction and creating real bonds. Numbers don’t talk.

If you want to share your recent posts you can still use the Meet and Greet thread which I have stuck to the top of my website. So it is always be adding to. It can be found at the link below. Have a good weekend WP!


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Set Me Free

This is an inspiring post to “just do it!” Thank you,

Originally posted on pieces of me:


“You wander from room to room hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck.”   Rumi

My niece, Tree Bunny (not her real name. My brother is not a hippy) has recently begun the minimalist 21 day experiment.   In the challenge a person packs up everything they own and sticks it in a room.  Then items are removed from that room only as needed.  Day one you may want to go get your toothbrush, and some clean underwear.  Perhaps a dish, some cutlery and a pot the next morning when you want to have oatmeal for breakfast.  And slowly you replace only the things you truly need and use into your daily life.

I have to admit that this paring life down to stark nothingness strangely appeals to me.

Tree Bunny is mostly through the challenge.  She has exactly one plate, one bowl, one fork, spoon and knife…

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The Meet and Greet Thread

The HarsHReality blog is offering us all a chance to interact and “find” one another. He is a most generous man.

Originally posted on HarsH ReaLiTy:

By now the Meet and Greet thread has over 1,500 comments with bloggers wishing to connect with other bloggers. There are all sorts of “niches” that can be found as well. I encourage people to actually interact and seek out people you like from the list instead of simply posting your link and “hoping” people will come find you first. It takes a little effort, but the rewards are awesome if you are truly seeking to enlarge both your list of blogs you read as well as possible readers of your own. The comment pages fill fast and “reblog” links won’t work, but any link you paste will work so feel free to share and comment as many times as you like.

This post will be my largest gift back to WordPress I hope. It will be a great source of current bloggers and possible new networks that can be found…

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I was planning on writing another “Old Hollywood” story, but life has interfered. My daughter has Trochleitis. She is in constant eye pain and now is blind in one eye with cataracts in the other, so that renders her unable to read or to find her way outside of the house and garden. The doctors say it is a rare case and have no treatment outside of steroids to try to manage the pain, and that is ineffective. Her whole way of life has changed. She listens to audiobooks and “hears” television while I try to describe some of the action. At this point, after several months, I am disenchanted with the medical profession. I believe that dancers with chicken feathers around their ankles would be more effective.

If anyone out there has had any experience with Trochleitis, please let me know other areas to explore. Mothers are supposed to be healers. Well, this mother is a dismal failure. I can do nothing except try to make her life easier in any way. Help!

Real men are always in control — of themselves, not others

Ned Hickson on Ned’s Blog posted this sensitive, honest definition. I feel it needs reblogging, and thank you, Ned.

Originally posted on Ned's Blog:

image Anyone who reads my weekly newspaper column or blog posts knows I try to keep life in perspective through humor. In fact, I’d say it’s one of the reasons my children are still alive today. While I joke about that, for many years humor was also part of a coping mechanism from a childhood witnessing both verbal and physical abuse by the men in my family — specifically, my father and older brothers.

The good news is that each of them eventually turned themselves, their lives and the lives of the people they loved, around. It wasn’t until I became a father that I realized the impact that a childhood witnessing abuse had on me, and how some of those wounds — as both a witness and recipient — had never truly healed.

I know this because I occasionally saw reflections of my father and brothers in myself as I…

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It is around Christmastime in the 1960s, and Eddie and Margo Albert are having a party for Harry and Julie Belafonte after one of his shows at the Greek Theater. It’s a typical Albert party with old friends dating back many years and newer ones. Among the guests are Rita Hayworth and her daughter, Princess Yasmin, the Vincent Prices, Rupert Allan(head of one of the most prestigious public relations firms in the industry), Frank McCarthy,  stage and movie producer (latest film then, “Patton”),Edward Albert, Jr., and many more.  Julie Belafonte is here, and we’re expecting Harry to appear after his performance.  There is a lot of music. Frank and I are playing bongo drums. Later, Julie and I bang our spoons on glasses to keep time to the guitar rhythms. Eddie and Margo play and sing. Margo dances. Rita Hayworth sings to the guitar. Everyone is basking in the warmth and pleasure of the evening. Time comes and goes when we expect Harry to appear. Julie starts to worry. We call the theater. He left, they tell us.  It has been a long time. Where is he?

A little after 1 a.m. people start leaving. Rupert and Frank take Rita home. Edward drives Princess Yasmin.  Eddie and Margo drive Julie. The only people left at the house are Maria Albert, then a teenager, and me. We’re sitting in the living room talking when the phone rings in the library where I answer it. “Hi, this is Harry… Julie there?”  I explain to him that the Alberts are driving her home. “How do I get to the house?” he asks. “I have something to drop off, and I think I overshot the mark. I’m by the Palisades market.”  I give him directions, and then Maria and I go outside into the street with flashlights to guide his way. Pretty soon, up drives Harry Belafonte. He takes out a present from the car and then walks into the house with us. As soon as we’re inside, he says, “Can I get a drink? I’ve had quite an experience.” Soon, we’re  settled, drinks in hand, in the living room, and he tells us what happened.  “I still can’t believe it,”he says. He had finished the show, changed his clothes, and then headed out for Pacific Palisades. It was going to be awhile before he reached us.  Driving through the white bread neighborhood, a black man late at night, he was stopped by a police car and asked for identification.  It was then he discovered that he had forgotten to switch his wallet when he changed clothes. No ID. No license. The police ushered him to the station, not believing him when he said who he was.  They were about to detain him for the evening when a detective on duty recognized him and sent him on his way.  Looking back, I wonder why they just didn’t have him sing a chorus of “Day O” or “Waltzing Matilda.”  That would have convinced them.  He called Julie to let her know he was all right, and was on his way back to Beverly Hills, driving very, very carefully.


Paul Lenzi does it again. I have to share this one for two reasons: for other viewers’ pleasure; so that I can read it any time I like. Enjoy!

Originally posted on Poesy plus Polemics:

Illustration from

Illustration from

bangin’ it
bringin’ it
crashin’ it
smashin’ this
damned LCD
verbs and blurbs
ripped and drippin’
like dismembered
body parts
in a frenzy of
verses with vengeance
no takin’
of prisoners
on digital battlefields
shambles and shards
every word
broken whole
bleedin’ phonemes
all over the screen
where they live
or they die
by the honesty
in the merciless fist
it’s war of a kind
in the mind
where the enemy
fights like
one poem
crudely thrown
just might
bring down the
end of the world

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Leonard Cohen ~ Dance Me To The End Of Love

Gill McGrath has put together a magical blog that I am compelled to rebog because I love everything about it and want to share with others.

Originally posted on In touch with Emma:

Beautiful Horses here but

Tango Scene ~ Al Pacino ~ Scent of a Woman ~ Movie CLIP (1992)
Leonard Cohen ~ Dance Me To The End Of Love

Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic ’til I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love

Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our…

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