Welcome are the passionately curious

"There was one Elephant--a new Elephant--an Elephant's Child--who was full of 'satiable curiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his 'satiable curiosities." Rudyard Kipling

Friday, December 9, 2011

Behind the Scenes: Blog Stats and a Thank-You

I frequently use the hashtag #readersmakeithappen in my tweets relating to my blog. This blog does happen because of you. I took some screenshots of my stats so you can see one of the things that just make my day: knowing you're out there, reading my posts.
 This week...



Of all time, as of 12.9.11


 
 Most viewed posts this week...



Most viewed of all time as of 12.9.11



My traffic sources




And there you are, dear readers!

If I solely wanted to yammer on, "express myself," and demand someone pay devout attention to and understand me, I can hire a therapist for that. This blog is for you--an invitation to reflect on life under this sun with me, if only for a few minutes out of your busy day. To you who accepted that invitation, you have my gratitude.

Monday, December 5, 2011

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

I Laid Me Down {draft 3}

to sleep and did not know the wolf to fear.
I lay me down, and sleep comes no more, for
The light that glares within the wolf’s eye is
Too near and never will sleep.

I lay me down and sleep, for nearer still
The shepherd sees me this night and he sees
The wolf, who never will understand nor
Can ever overwhelm this other light
And will come not a step closer.

It was in vain to wake, rise early and
In vain to stay the wolf with darting, watching eyes,
In vain to eat my daily bread in snatches and fear.

I have laid me down
because He gave me, beloved, sleep.

{inspired by Psalm 4:8; 23; 91:5-6; 121:4; 127:2; John 1:5; 10:1-18; and personal experience}

Reel Around the Sun {wee seedling}


“So cold a winter it’s been, friend, and I’ve
Not seen the sun so many dreary months.”

“Away w’ me, good friend! Away, away
For wild a reel around the sun!
We’ll need no drop to drink nor crumb to eat:
The stars are feast enough! A fine good ship
Of ebony made, sails of dragon’s wings
Sewn, helm of trusty-tempered steel. Off, off!
Off we fly, friend, for wild a reel around the sun!”

{inspired by Reel Around the Sun by Bill Whalen. Three very good versions I love are by Twelve Girls Band, The Gardyne Chamber Ensemble, and the original song on the Riverdance album.}

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Walt


Whitman ain’t my friend—
Think you’re somethin, doncha,
Sacred proud worm-food.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Hilf mir zu helfen, ach, mein Gott


Today I heard a story sorrowful
In my ears. Hope was hurt beyond the best
Of mortal help. I covered my head just
To give grief some scant privacy. But oh,
But hated shunning sorrow as it looked
For help in my eyes. I can watch, though long
The night, pray my words will keep greedy winds
From scattering you far away and lost
Forever. But your full remedy, sad
And wretched true, is not in me—I've searched
In vain in the long, raging nights. Ach, Gott.

Binding Tides

I feared the sea’s mercurial pull, stayed
Onshore, when I was small. But now
 I find
With some dismay the ocean is in me.
Moons pull and shove me, but beyond the dark
Blue moods I see a Star for me. So, go,
Rage, waves. See if you can blot out that high,
Eternal north star.
Your consolation
Prize? This. A faulty compass, cast aside.

Miranda by John William Waterhouse
 

Monday, November 7, 2011

Miscellanea Item No. 2

I'm of the following opinion.

Sometimes people--friend, acquaintance, or a chance-meet--make mistakes and are very painfully aware of the enormity of the decisions' stupidity or recklessness. And they are sorry for the deed, not just the consequence.

When these people come to me--for advice, to vent, or so on, and whether or not they have done offense to me personally--I hope God gives me the perception to sense that they are indeed sorry. I pray even more for the grace and kindness of my Brother Christ Jesus to see that they have beaten themselves up enough about what they have done and that I will have the ability to take their "club" away from them--they don't need my help heaping up guilt on themselves.

Not everyone who has strayed from the right path needs a thrashing, and if they do, it's very likely not supposed to come from me.

Hugs, tea or coffee, chocolate, silent empathy, or all of the above are maybe better salves for the grieved hearts.

Monday, October 24, 2011

Untitled [draft 1]


My thoughts sparkle today
I don’t know if I shall show them to you
just yet.
they want polishing
a trim or so
here
and there.
But—possess your soul with patience!
You shall see them soon.
I’ll dance them in the sun before your eyes
While we haggle over significance,
Weight,
Worth.
You shall take it with you when all’s said and done,
And I’m as richer and more as before.
You’re taking it shan’t take a smidgeon from me.
I—I draw my wonders from a bag
cut from the same cloth
as Peter Schlemiel's wondrous bag of gold—
Only, I, fortunate favorite 
or not so fortunate,
Did not sell my shadow
for the sack,
As did poor Peter—
The shadows gave me mine for free.

All

All 
A sparrow’s crumb—
Because a crumb to a sparrow
is a feast
but a sparrow’s crumb
is hardly
mentioning.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Well Now. This is a Something.

"How To Self Publish (And Seem Like You're Not)”

I don’t altogether approve of her fudging the facts to her readers nor with her philosophy that “writing is a lot like lying” (italics mine). However, I will say this: that girl has got moxie and talent three ways to Sunday. My hat’s off to her for her spunk. I might even buy her book.

Here is her author blog,  and her other blog is here.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Foundations I Art Class Project

Our professor assigned a folio project for our class. The first page requires us to answer the question "What is art?"
We can quote others if we wish, or we can write our own definitions. Here is mine.
Art results from the methods in which the artist may manipulate various materials in diverse styles — via color, form, and other sensorial elements and principles — to evoke specific emotional, intellectual, and/or physical responses from his or her audience,  be it admiration, fear, disgust, wonder, etc.
What do you think? Have I missed something? Or should it be narrowed down somewhat?

Thursday, September 8, 2011

The One Wish Granted


My impossible made possible is that I could have a sprawling house large enough to shelter and bring up every unwanted child. All of them. That I could have enough money to educate them in whatever discipline they had a natural talent for – music, math, art, science. That I could keep, love, and mother them until they were old enough to live and thrive on their own.

I’d take them all. No questions asked of you, the parents. No judgment for why you don’t want him, why she doesn’t fit in with your schedule, why they’re mistakes you have to wipe clean, why they’re accidents or ugly mementos.

I’ll take them. You don’t have to see them ever again.

Just don’t kill them, please. Please, don't.