I love the grape vine that serves as a curtain to our property. And this year, for the first time, it has grapes!  I live in the garden of eden.

I like this guy's stuff.

Music for when you're chillin'

Aguas De Marco (Waters of March)

A stick, a stone
It's the end of the road
It's the rest of a stump
It's a little alone

It's a sliver of glass
It is life, it's the sun
It is night, it is death
It's a trap, it's a gun

The oak when it blooms
A fox in the brush
A knot in the wood
The song of a thrush

The wood of the wind
A cliff, a fall
A scratch, a lump
It is nothing at all

It's the wind blowing free
It's the end of the slope
It's a beam, it's a void
It's a hunch, it's a hope

And the river bank talks
Of the waters of March
It's the end of the strain
The joy in your heart

Well, Peeps, I pulled it off!  The poem seemed to speak itself. With expression, with emotion. It was met with applause. Happy Lady here!
I'm still practicing it, because there's a couple other places I may be saying it. One for sure, in the community theater project my daughters are doing in Ausitn, and one other still possible.
So. Much. Fun. That poem deserves to be said aloud. I'm glad I had the opportunity.

EARTH-SONG
        - Ralph Waldo Emerson

'Mine and yours;
Mine, not yours.
Earth endures;
Stars abide -
Shine down in the old sea;
Old are the shores;
But where are old men?
I who have seen much,
Such have I never seen.

'The lawyer's deed
Ran sure
In tail,
To them, and to their heirs
Who shall succeed,
Without fail,
Forevermore.

'Here is the land,
Shaggy with wood,
With its old valley,
Mound and flood.
But the heritors?
Fled like the flood's foam. -
The lawyer and the laws,
And the kingdom,
Clean swept herefrom.

'They called me theirs,
Who so controlled me;
Yet every one
Wished to stay and is gone,
How am I theirs,
If they cannot hold me,
But I hold them?'

When I heard the Earth-song
I was no longer brave;
My avarice cooled
Like lust in the chill of the grave.

Today's the day! Tonight I will recite (perform) the 182-line poem I've memorized. To say I'm nervous would be the understatement of the year. God help me to do it justice.

This one: (and with all due humility, I think when I don't miss any words, I do it better, in some ways, than this master.)

Resting my brain, waiting for lunch to be ready, listening to Getz/Gilberto. Perfecto.

THE TABLES TURNED
     - William Wordsworth

Up, up! my Friend, and quit your books;
    Or surely you'll grow double:
Up, up! my Friend, and clear your looks
    Why all this toil and trouble?

The sun, above the mountain's head,
    A freshening lustre mellow
Through all the long green fields has spread,
    His first sweet evening yellow.

Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife:
    Come, hear the woodland linnet
How sweet his music! on my life
    There's more of wisdom in it.

And hark! how blithe the throstle sings!
    He, too, is no mean preacher:
Come forth into the light of things
    Let Nature be your teacher.

She has a world of ready wealth,
    Our hearts and minds to bless -
Spontaneous wisdom breathed by health
    Truth breathed by cheerfulness.

One impulse from a vernal wood
    May teach you more of man
Of moral evil and of good
    Than all the sages can.

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings;
    Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things; -
    We murder to dissect.

Enough of Science and of Art;
    Close up those barren leaves;
Come forth and bring with you a heart
    That watches and receives.

Only 40 lines to go, memorizing my poem! I think I've got this - although the grand baby is coming to spend the weekend, so I won't have a lot of free time. But I think I'll be okay. ...... Boy it's gonna sound GOOD. 

And then to go home to this one. Life is good.

What a joy, to introduce a 10-year-old to this story for the first time!

"Even the linked fantasies, in whose blossomy twist
I swung the earth a trinket at my wrist,
Are yielding; cords of all too weak account
For earth with heavy griefs so overplussed."
                         - Francis Thompson

Good morning

   Dearest peeps I've been quiet because I've been working hard on finishing memorizing the 182-line poem that I'll be reciting at the poetry circle next Tuesday. I still have 48 lines to go - that's eight lines a day. To be stuck in my mind so firmly that when I recite, I'll be telling a story, not trying to remember things. I did what I know so far, for Hubby last night, didn't miss a beat, and he said, "I was there!"  Exxxcellent.......  I'm excited. Inviting family and a few friends to what is usually a small meeting. If I pull it off, it will be a good performance.
   I'm thinking about recording it. We'll see.....
   

Haiku by my 10-year-old student, Jerome Knopik

The trees are so green.
The wind makes them dance for joy.
They are essential.

That dog. Hobbes. Just walks in like he owns the place, and NEVER shuts the door behind him. Sheesh. He thinks the rules don't apply to him, just because he doesn't have thumbs!

from THE DAILY STOIC

Eat and Be Merry

A few years ago a study by Brad Bushman at Ohio State University found a link between low blood sugar and arguments between spouses. It pretty much confirms the experiences of anyone who has ever been in a relationship and found themselves fighting right around lunch or dinner time for no good reason. The colloquial term for this? Being hangry. And it can ruin relationships, friendships, and generally make you a jerk. 

The funny thing is that even the Stoics knew this and warned against it. As Seneca wrote:

“Hunger and thirst must be avoided...they grate on and inflame the mind. It’s an old saying that quarrels are sought by the weary’ just as much, too, by the hungry and the thirsty, and by every man who yearns for anything.” 

So conquering your temper and being kind and respectful and fair is not simply a matter of your mind. How you treat your body affects how your mind operates (another study shows that judges are more merciful after lunch). We know this regardless of what the studies show. When we feel good, it’s easier to be good. When we are rested, it’s easier to be patient. Your tone will be softer when your stomach isn’t growling, and you’ll make better decisions when your energy levels are better. 

This means that we have to take good care of ourselves. We have to eat right. We have to keep to a smart schedule. We have to know our physical limits. All of which, of course, requires the use of our mind now...so that our body isn’t at odds with it later. 

 

What a joy to meet the Lokhandwala family, from India, whose Dad I've played Scrabble with for at least five years, and whose oldest daughter, Zahra, just graduated from college in Dallas! We had a lovely visit and lunch at the pizzeria.
I love breaking the cyber barrier......

Annie's Mallard Fillmore

"In a lesser musician that boy's attitude would be needy masquerading as arrogance."
                                                                                               - Lisa Simpson

from SONGS FROM THE WOOD BETWEEN THE WORLDS

Maybe....

Francis Thompson anthropomorphises Nature
or maybe
Every Anthropos with any sense follows suit with Nature.

TREES
   - Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see   
A poem lovely as a tree.   
   
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest   
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;   
   
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;   
   
A tree that may in summer wear   
A nest of robins in her hair;   
   
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;   
Who intimately lives with rain. 
   
Poems are made by fools like me,   
But only God can make a tree.

from SONGS FROM THE WOOD BETWEEN THE WORLDS

Maybe.....

The Universe goes on Forever
And so does every other universe
Parallel lines of reality, like a music staff.
Beautiful harmony.

And occasionally intersecting?
Skillfully bent note.

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT
                  - Thomas Moore

Oft in the stilly night
  Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
  Of other days around me;
  The smiles, the tears,
  Of boyhood's years,
 The words of love then spoken;
  The eyes that shone,
  Now dimmed and gone,
 The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
  Ere slumber's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
  Of other days around me.

When I remember all
  The friends so linked together,
I've seen around me fall,
   Like leaves in wintry weather:
      I feel like one
     Who treads alone
  Some banquet-hall deserted,
     Whose lights are fled,
     Whose garland's dead
  And all but he departed!

Thus in the stilly night,
  Ere Slumber's chain has bound me,
Fond Memory brings the light
  Of other days around me.

Breakfast in a bottle. It's coffee and toast all at once. :)

from THE DAILY STOIC

Think about the last time that someone made you upset. What did they say? What did they do? Now think back: How did you react? What did you say? What did you feel?

Now think about the situation another way: If, when that provocation came, you had given yourself space to pause, could you have controlled your reaction? Could you have stayed sober and calm in the face of their hysterics and yelling? Could you have kept your head about you?

Marcus Aurelius said, “You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.” Viktor Frankl talked about how between stimulus and response, we have space, and in that space, we determine not just our response, but who we are. 

What we’re doing here is trying to train ourselves to do that. All this reading, this writing, this stepping back and reflecting on our patterns of behavior--it’s for a purpose. It’s to improve that default response. So that while others give themselves over to their emotions, we can keep any destructive emotions in check. As they freak out, we can calm down. That’s the whole point of Stoicism: to restore the power over your mind to the only person who ought to have it—you.

Graffiti in Austin, Texas....

The beautiful children of my dear cousins, Jon and Hannah. So glad I finally got to meet Hannah and the kids; hope they can come back soon!

BECAUSE I COULD NOT STOP FOR DEATH
                                     - Emily Dickinson

Because I could not stop for Death -
He kindly stopped foe me -
The Carriage held but just Ourselves -
And Immortality.

We slowly drove - He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility -

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess - in the Ring -
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain -
We passed the Setting Sun -

Or rather - He passed Us -
The Dews drew quivering and chill -
For only Gossamer, my Gown -
My Tippet - only Tulle.

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground -
The Roof was scarcely visible -
The Cornice - in the Ground -

Since then - 'tis Centuries - and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity -


(Mariah speaking) Here's a lady I'd heard of and read some of, but hadn't looked at closely. Now I'm learning more about her and growing in appreciation, thanks to a friend. Just as, thanks to my friend Tedd, I grew to love Van Gogh. I'm surrounded by excellent teachers..... 

So......what shall we do today?

HAIKU
   - akw

     Tide caresses the
Long silver thigh of the beach.
     Sand slips out to sea.

The Stoics talk about detaching from results and outcomes. “Don’t let your imagination be crushed by life as a whole,” Marcus Aurelius said. “Stick with the situation at hand.” The less attached we are to outcomes the better. When fulfilling our own standards—when doing the right thing—is what fills us with pride and self-­respect, when the effort is enough, we are liberated.

Let that be your mindset today. Focus only on what’s immediately in front of you. No strain, no struggle, no worry. Just one simple movement after another with just one goal: your best effort.

(Mariah speaking) Sometimes outcomes are extremely important. Sometimes that's why you make the effort at all, and if the outcome is not good, it is said that you failed. But it's reassuring to notice (which you can't, without failing) that failure usually doesn't bring the end of the world. I was taught to pursue excellence, rather than perfection. 

ON HANG-UPS
         Ann Kilcrin Ward

We're told, today, that we must be
As nutty as a walnut tree
If our psyches should dissent
From social-science establishment.

Media claim, both day and night,
That most of us are too uptight;
The cure for this is love, you know,
And letting all your feelings show.

The theory is, if you exhibit -
Nothing hide, do not inhibit -
You'll find the world as sick as thee,
And somehow we shall all be free.

Damn those eyes
Tell pretty lies.

Good poets tell us things we already knew but never realized.
So do good musicians.
I say musician as I would say magician. Worker of music.

Breaking my fast listening to Slowhand's guitar pondering quietly to itself. As I do the same.....

from the Daily Stoic (a cool site I just discovered that offers simple wisdom)

Be Tough on Yourself and Understanding With Others

Remember that Stoicism isn’t about judging other people. It’s not a moral philosophy you’re supposed to project and enforce onto the world. No, it’s a personal philosophy that’s designed to direct your behavior.

This is what Marcus Aurelius meant when he said: “Be tolerant with others and strict with yourself.”

Be open to the idea that people are going to be fools or jerks or unreliable or anything else. Let them be. That’s their business. That’s not inside your control.

But you have to be disciplined with yourself, and your reactions. If someone acts ridiculous, let them. If you’re acting ridiculous, catch the problem, stop it and work on preventing it from happening in the future. What you do is in your control. That is your business. Be strict about it.

Leave other people to themselves. You have enough to worry about.


(Mariah speaking) I was reading Marcus Aurelius when I was 13 - from a book of my mother's I had found. Instead of doing my ninth grade homework. What was said today has made sense to me for a long, long time. I'm so grateful that, though I lost her before I was nine, my mother has taught me all my life, with her books, her journals.... Life is good.

from THE OWL AND THE PUSSYCAT
                                          - Edward Lear

They dinèd on mince and slices of quince,
   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
   They danced by the light of the moon,
              The moon,
              The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

Just saw this for the first time. Hard to say which of these two is prettier......

LOVE IS LOVE
       - Sir Edward Dyer

The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall,
The fly her spleen, the little spark his heat:
The slender hairs cast shadows, tho but small,
And bees have stings, although they be not great;
  Seas have their source, and so have shallow springs;
  And love is love, in beggars and in kings.

Where waters smoothest run, there deepest are the fords,
The dial stirs, yet none perceives it move;
The firmest faith is found in fewest words,
The turtles do not sing, and yet they love;
  True hearts have ears and eyes, no tongues to speak;
  They hear and see and sigh, and then they break.

"The Earth is hollow but I have touched the sky"

“You become what you give your attention to...If you yourself don’t choose what thoughts and images you expose yourself to, someone else will.” Epictetus

.......if ever there was a reason to get off Facebook and turn off the TV, this is it.

This morning you look like a tree full of owls......

What a swell party it was....

Co-written by Roberto Carlos. <3

This was my first taste of music in Spanish - given to me as a goodbye present at the end of the school year by my Spanish teacher. On a 45 record, with La Montaña on the other side. I spent the summer listening to it, soñando of the nerdy boy in my Spanish class who couldn't look me in the eye. And I realized I could learn more Spanish by listening to music than all the vocabulary lists in the world...... 

Greetings to my readers from Portugal! I know Mr. Carlos is from Brazil, but his Portuguese is beautiful. And I know he's a little Old School, but so am I. Good music (books, movies, poems, people, etc) don't grow old.
And I love you so.... :)

from  TWO IN THE CAMPAGNA
                   - Robert Browning

How say you? Let us, O my dove,
  Let us be unashamed of soul,
As earth lies bare to Heaven above.
  How is it under our control
To love or not to love?

I would that you were all to me,
  You that are just so much, no more -
Nor yours nor mine, - nor slave nor free!
   Where does the fault lie? what the core
Of the wound, since wound must be?

I would I could adopt your will,
   See with your eyes, and set my heart
Beating by yours, and drink my fill
   At your soul's springs, - your part, my part
In life, for good and ill.

No. I yearn upward - touch you close,
   Then stand away. I kiss your cheek,
Catch your soul's warmth, - I pluck the rose
   And love it more than tongue can speak -
Then the good minute goes.

Just when I seemed about to learn!
   Where is the thread now? Off again!
The old trick! Only I discern -
   Infinite passion and the pain
Of finite hearts that yearn.

Stage one done.

That was fun!

In a silly mood. This song occurred to me on Kentucky Derby day, which must be like Revenge of The Nerds Day for short people.

It's been raining almost all day.

Alone with the music, the birds, and the breeze,
No one to talk to but God and the trees.

Hmm...... Hubby is mulling Monopoly moves in his mind (yes, alliteration comes naturally to me). Thinking about selling Boardwalk. I would MISS Boardwalk! But for the price of a hotel on Boardwalk, you can do a lot of building on St. James Place.... or even Marvin Gardens.
Exciting times.......
I play Scrabble, he plays Monopoly. Good combo.

The Man. 

You ever wake up super grateful for the day ahead of you? There's nothing special going on today,  but I get to spend the day watching it rain while I listen to great music, make three loaves of bread, a pan of bread pudding, and three pecan pies for the restaurant. I get to strip the paint off a beautiful old buffet and a beautiful old desk. I get to study and work on the poem I'm memorizing. Maybe I'll do some writing. Peace and quiet and beauty. Thank you.

Greetings to my dear friend Jeanne, from Cyprus! I'm so glad you're here!  <3

Hymn to Intellectual Beauty

BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY

The awful shadow of some unseen Power 

         Floats though unseen among us; visiting 

         This various world with as inconstant wing 

As summer winds that creep from flower to flower; 

Like moonbeams that behind some piny mountain shower, 

                It visits with inconstant glance 

                Each human heart and countenance; 

Like hues and harmonies of evening, 

                Like clouds in starlight widely spread, 

                Like memory of music fled, 

                Like aught that for its grace may be 

Dear, and yet dearer for its mystery. 

Spirit of BEAUTY, that dost consecrate 

         With thine own hues all thou dost shine upon 

         Of human thought or form, where art thou gone? 

Why dost thou pass away and leave our state, 

This dim vast vale of tears, vacant and desolate? 

                Ask why the sunlight not for ever 

                Weaves rainbows o'er yon mountain-river, 

Why aught should fail and fade that once is shown, 

                Why fear and dream and death and birth 

                Cast on the daylight of this earth 

                Such gloom, why man has such a scope 

For love and hate, despondency and hope? 

No voice from some sublimer world hath ever 

         To sage or poet these responses given: 

         Therefore the names of Demon, Ghost, and Heaven, 

Remain the records of their vain endeavour: 

Frail spells whose utter'd charm might not avail to sever, 

                From all we hear and all we see, 

                Doubt, chance and mutability. 

Thy light alone like mist o'er mountains driven, 

                Or music by the night-wind sent 

                Through strings of some still instrument, 

                Or moonlight on a midnight stream, 

Gives grace and truth to life's unquiet dream. 

Love, Hope, and Self-esteem, like clouds depart 

         And come, for some uncertain moments lent. 

         Man were immortal and omnipotent, 

Didst thou, unknown and awful as thou art, 

Keep with thy glorious train firm state within his heart. 

                Thou messenger of sympathies, 

                That wax and wane in lovers' eyes; 

Thou, that to human thought art nourishment, 

                Like darkness to a dying flame! 

                Depart not as thy shadow came, 

                Depart not—lest the grave should be, 

Like life and fear, a dark reality. 

While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped 

         Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, 

         And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing 

Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. 

I call'd on poisonous names with which our youth is fed; 

                I was not heard; I saw them not; 

                When musing deeply on the lot 

Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing 

                All vital things that wake to bring 

                News of birds and blossoming, 

                Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; 

   I shriek'd, and clasp'd my hands in ecstasy! 

I vow'd that I would dedicate my powers 

         To thee and thine: have I not kept the vow? 

         With beating heart and streaming eyes, even now 

I call the phantoms of a thousand hours 

Each from his voiceless grave: they have in vision'd bowers 

                Of studious zeal or love's delight 

                Outwatch'd with me the envious night: 

They know that never joy illum'd my brow 

                Unlink'd with hope that thou wouldst free 

                This world from its dark slavery, 

                That thou, O awful LOVELINESS, 

Wouldst give whate'er these words cannot express. 

The day becomes more solemn and serene 

         When noon is past; there is a harmony 

         In autumn, and a lustre in its sky, 

Which through the summer is not heard or seen, 

As if it could not be, as if it had not been! 

                Thus let thy power, which like the truth 

                Of nature on my passive youth 

Descended, to my onward life supply 

                Its calm, to one who worships thee, 

                And every form containing thee, 

                Whom, SPIRIT fair, thy spells did bind 

To fear himself, and love all human kind.