Love Thyself

Love After Love by Derek Walcott

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Brain Pickings, Jon Kabat-Zinn reads Walcott’s masterpiece.

July 4th To Our Military

Amidst the fireworks, hamburgers, hotdogs, Family, Friends, picnics, outings, the greatest is our Military.


For those in the Military are the ones whom continue to keep America the "land of the free" and they are proof that America truly is "the home of the brave"

Thank You Troops!:


(The Sign of Thanks)
 
Happy Fourth of July! 






July 4th is our 1st and oldest military holiday.

The Meaning of July Fourth for the African Americans by Frederick Douglass (A speech given at Rochester, New York, July 5, 1852)


Independence Day on the Net - Did You Know: 4th of July

#‎PrayForCharleston‬ Honoring the 9 People Who Lost Their Lives

United worldwide, we extend our heartfelt sincere thoughts and prayers to the families and friends whose loved ones lost their lives.



9 Human Beings who became victims of a Charleston Shooting at the Emanuel AME Church (Mother Emanuel)

"9 beautiful people gone.
Family members of the HUMAN race.
Children of God.
Made in his Image" -Derek Minor

Cynthia Hurd, 54 years old
Susie Jackson, 87 years old
Ethel Lance, 70 years old
Rev. DePayne Middleton-Doctor, 49 years old
The Honorable Rev. Clementa Pinckney, 41 years old
Tywanza Sanders, 26 years old
Rev. Daniel Simmons, 74 years old, died at MUSC
Rev. Sharonda Singleton, 45 years old
Myra Thompson, 59 years old


#‎PrayForCharleston
Prayer Page for Charleston, SC, Friends and Families of the Victims

Donations for Mother Emanuel Church:
(Help support victims' families, local initiatives)

Charleston's Mayor Joseph P. Riley, Jr. has set up the "Mother Emanuel Hope" fund. The fund will help family members pay for funerals, counseling and other financial needs. Donations can be online, by texting 'prayforcharleston' to 843-606-5995 additionally you can walk into any of Wells Fargo's 6,200 banking locations now you can also make a check out to "Mother Emanuel Hope Fund" and send it to the address below:

Mother Emanuel Hope Fund

C/O City of Charleston

P.O. Box 304 Charleston, SC 29402

Original Pain





A great original from Finding Bigfoot. Have a rocking weekend!

Posted by Indi on Friday, May 29, 2015
Indi


Related Posts: Finding Bigfoot BYU

True Colors

My 'personal action' is to continue to promote nondiscrimination: S.T.O.P. ® the bullying (Bullying is just another form of discrimination), S.T.O.P.® the discriminating, STOP and: S.ee T.he O.ther P.eople.

In my opinion, whether because of ones health, accent, lifestyle, color of skin… whether rejected or ridiculed or some other means of communal castration, no matter how small or large any difference or the bullying or any consequence thereof be; the complete eradication of prejudice will remain a centuries old vicarious plague spurred from societal statistical stigmatic stigma, hysterically injected into the ill-reputed frail failing intellect of the majority who damningly dare to declare what differentiates from the norm. For example; I recently read about a son spurned by his own flesh and blood, “a vicious parent shaming still its child”1. ‘*Revolted by his father’s injustice’, the son left home at an all to early age, set upon a journey to prove or find his roots. Regrettably; during his mission, he was essentially met with a series of harsh condemnations. Ultimately; the son becomes consumed with self-delusion and an insatiable appetite for revenge to be inflicted upon those who once dared to flaunt their popularity, while others refused to embrace his uniqueness cloaked in natural flaws.

Fortunately "2the pen is mightier than the sword", so he merely immerses himself into his literary work. At last the world is his stage and he could not have chosen a better place. For whom among us has not been psychologically moved or entertained by words upon a page. Or our attention drawn to a character in a play, opera, movie, or a mere sit-com? And so with pen and paper the son makes his plight known for others to read then mourn, scorn, ponder, or wonder. Except to him, his anguish was the worse of anyone. Nonetheless; in due course the son grew into his own isolated culture rejected existence. After some time; a Woman professed, “*Evidently God has made us for each another! I am like you…” Soon afterwards the son married her, asserting; “*Blessed be the sorrows I have borne… Heaven was keeping such unhoped consolation in reserve! Until today I feared myself doomed to eternal singleness and to tell you the truth it was a heavy burden to bear”. Though; had he truly loved her for herself and not out of a seemingly Narcissist reflection of himself; then when her true colors came beautifully shining through, he would not have (for shame or other matters) discarded her much as he had been cast off by the population. Yet he did flee from her side; “*to abandon the career of literature, to escape into the desert and if possible shun for ever after the sight of living creatures. To seek, indeed, like Alceste”. Oh but as fate or merely an ill-fated wind would have it; the son landed not far from where as a child he had begun his journey away from his parents home. I surmise that perhaps feeling like the odd man out, surrounded once again by the publicly accepted; here in this familiar place is where he may have learnt the greatest lesson of all, which is; nothing in life is ever as it seems.

Every part I read about the spurned son seemed a humanistic enough story plot, the emotional afflict of discrimination, a temporary successive solution, love, loss, lessons learnt… except this is a tale of the feather type. Written in 1842 by Alfred de Musset; whence combining a vast array of birds with a stylish flare, a story takes flight. Amid the author’s intertwined unraveling assemblage of vividly artistically painted printed words, emerges a subtle view about a struggle with the centuries old trials and tribulations of the societal injected statistical stigmatic stigma, known as prejudice. “^How glorious it is and also how painful to be an exception”.

And so begins:

*The Story of A White Blackbird by Alfred de Musset (Histoire d'un merle blanc)
^As translated by Christopher (translator) Morley


1. George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans), O May I Join the Choir Invisible!
2. Edward Bulwer-Lytton, Richelieu Act II Scene II

Related Links:

Stop Bullying

Not In Our Town 'highlights communities working together to stop hate'.

Cubical Human Rat Race

Normal Is by Ellen Goodman
I remember many years ago when a Friend of mine’s Nephew died unexpectedly. Shortly afterwards, we had to sort and move his belongings to appease the Landlord for the next possible tenant. I also recall a Co-Worker stating she had to sort through her Brother’s personal items after he passed away recently. Wondering how and why he accumulated so much over the years, she immediately wanted to organize her own possessions. Venturing into the attic, etc. so Family Members wouldn’t have to; should anything happen to her. As for myself, I was no stranger to the accumulation monster. I knew the hideous creature well. An ogre, ‘once upon a time’; disguised merely as one seemingly innocent storage box. Soon an array of these homely cartons are tucked here, there, and everywhere. They are the swine hoarders of things placed out of sight and out of mind. Nonetheless; I had to face this demon when a 10 year relationship end some years ago. Following the once ignored property being divvied up, there still remained an amass of stuff. Apparently, the demon stuffer refused to die without a fight. However; exhausted, I just crammed the lid down on a few containers and duct-taped the other tops that wouldn’t cooperate. Then I spent the next year thinking more about those darn boxes than about my ended relationship. Realizing us human beings spend our life in some type of box as well. Embryos packaged inside a womb, cut umbilical cord individuals occupying four-sided residences; attendance at schools, churches, most places of employment… - all cubically constructed, and in the wrapping up - encased in a coffin or urn. Perhaps the monster was not the boxes after all, rather whom I had to concur was the pack rat dwelling inside myself. And so the orderliness commenced. Only this time I had to dig down into the cubical roots of my being. There, each item was liken a picture inside a huge photo album, imprinted in my mind with some negative and positive memories. The finale collage however; wasn’t so much the dispersed trash, rather the release of emotional baggage that had secretly been weighing me down for years; boxing me in. And so for all of you with boxes tucked here, there, and everywhere – may you find the inward strength to one day rise up in protest of such a baited rat trap! For once you do - as Bernard De Voto is accredited for saying, “The rat stops gnawing in the wood, the dungeon walls withdraw, the weight is lifted … your pulse steadies and the sun has found your heart, the day was not bad, the season has not been bad, there is sense and even promise in going on.”
Boomtown Rats - Rat Trap
There was a lot of rocking going on that night
Cruising time for the young, bright lights
Just down past the gasworks, by the meat factory door
The five lamp boys were coming on strong
The Saturday night city beat had already started and the
The pulse of the corner boys just sprang into action
And young Billy watched it under the yellow street light
And said "tonight of all nights there's gonna be a fight"

Billy don't like it living here in this town
He says traps have been sprung long before he was born
He says "hope bites the dust behind all the closed doors
And pus and grime ooze from its scab-crusted sores
There's screaming and crying in the high-rise blocks"
It's a rat trap, Billy, but you're already caught
And you can make it if you want to or you need it bad enough
You're young and good-looking and you're acting kind of tough
Anyway it's Saturday night, time to see what's going down
Put on a bright suit, Billy, head for the right side of town
It's only eight o'clock, but you're already bored
You don't know what it is, but there's got to be more
You'd better find a way out, hey, kick down that door
It's a rat trap, and you've been caught

In this town Billy says "everybody's trying to tell you what to do"
In this town Billy says "everybody says you gotta follow rules"
You walk up to the traffic lights
You switch from your left to your right
You push in that button, and that button comes alight
And it's
"Walk, don't walk, walk, don't walk
Talk, don't talk, talk, don't talk
Walk, don't walk, walk, don't walk
Talk, don't talk, talk, don't talk"
Hey, Billy, take a walk, take a walk, take a walk
Billy, take a walk, take a walk, take a walk
Billy, take a walk, take a walk, take a walk
Hey, Billy take a walk with me

Well, little Judy's trying to watch "Top of the Pops"
But mum and dad are fighting, don't they ever stop
She takes off her coat and walks down to the street
It's cold on that road, but it's got that home beat
Deep down in her pocket she finds 50p
Hey, is that any way for a young girl to be
"I'm gonna get out of school, work in some factory
Work all the hours God gave me, get myself a little easy money"
Now, now, now, na na

Her mind's made up, she walks down the road
Her hands in her pockets, coat buttoned 'gainst the cold
She finally finds Billy down at the Italian cafe
When he's drunk it's hard to understand what Billy says
But then he mumbles in his coffee and suddenly roars
"It's a rat trap, Judy, and we've been caught..."

Rat trap
You've been caught in a rat trap

Related Post: Out Of The Box! M.P.H.

Butterflies Upon the Will of Power

I watched the movie, Shattered starring Pierce Brosnan, Maria Bello, and Gerard Butler. The movie is based around the quote, “Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel” found in the literary work of 1735, An Epistle to Dr Arbuthnot written by Alexander Pope. The excerpt has been drawn on by many People throughout the years. And different meanings of the expression have been included in music such as that by The Mission whom recorded a track titled Butterfly on a Wheel. Basically the phrase means, “putting massive effort into achieving something minor or unimportant”.

I think the quote “Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel” has a lot of significance to offer our World today and is a great thought for 2008. To often criminals break a butterfly upon a wheel leaving innocent victims to suffer the consequences of another’s irreparable actions. To many Soldiers are sent to fight a War that has largely lost its’ main purpose. Leaving our Men and Women to flap their wings in a territory that seemingly lacks the ability to act – let alone react – as civilized human beings who have been given the opportunity to rise above their once dictated brainwashed sadistic antics. Meanwhile; our own Country continues to lack massive and important measures to securely prevent any future potential terrorism violence nationally. Global Warming is given verbal band aides of decorated hope while sufficient funds are disbursed into other wheels of less importance.

Environmentally speaking, the butterfly effect is a phrase that “refers to the idea that a butterfly's wings might create tiny changes in the atmosphere that ultimately cause a tornado to appear (or for that matter, prevent a tornado from appearing). The flapping wing represents a small change in the initial condition of the system, which causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena.” Let us no longer wonder, “had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different." Perhaps instead; it is time that we take back the wheel and steer our own wings, promoting positive change throughout the World toward Peace. For even the smallest of efforts can make a difference collectively. Be this by beginning such in our own home, community, political stance, etc. Hence, let they “Who breaks a butterfly upon a wheel”, know not their abuse of power but the willpower of Humankind.