Wednesday, September 30, 2015

The Usual Selves
That I Have Known

My Nephews, Having Fun with Their Dad
Ron ~ Jerrod ~ Dan

A Memorial Tribute for Ronald Ben Rosenbluth
31 March 1951 - 20 June 2015
given by his son, Daniel J. Rosenbluth

In 1986, when I was eight years old, my father and I were in a car accident that by all rights should have killed us both. The particulars aren't important; what's important is that Dad's only concern was making sure I was safe.

Twenty - nine years later, on a sunny day in late June, I held Dad's hand as he passed away. I couldn't save him; all I could do was try to reassure him that the rest of us would be okay, and watch as the strongest man I've ever known slipped away in front of me.

I'll never forget what Dad told me the day w e found that his illness was terminal. "It's not your fault," he said. "You were there with me every step of the way, and I will continue to fight with whatever tools they give me." And he did. Even to the very end, he tried to carry on. But it wasn't enough; even two liters of my bone marrow did nothing to stop the cancer, and a week later, he was gone. My hero, the man who gave his family more than I will ever be able to repay, was eaten alive by his own body. Shakespeare once wrote:

"Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted color off . . .
Do not forever with thy vailèd lids
Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
Thou know’st ’tis common. All that lives must die,
Passing through nature to eternity."

That didn't make Hamlet feel any better, and it didn't help me either.

Nothing I can say or do will ever make it okay for any of us. Dad loved us, and we loved him. But we an take comfort in the fact that his legacy will on through us. He gave us humor, wisdom, and most importantly, he gave us unconditional love. My father was many things -- solider, engineer, husband, father, student and teacher -- but the most important thing I can think of is simply this: He was Ronald Ben Rosenbluth. He was everything I want to be, and if I can be even half the man that he was, then I hope he'll be proud, wherever he may be.

I love you, Dad.

Dan is right, nothing will ever take away the sadness or make it okay, but thankfully we have many shared memories to look back on and to carry forward as we go. However, when my brother Bruce quoted the following poem at Ron's funeral service . . .

Sing Well! ~ by Joyce Grenfell
If I should die before the rest of you,
Break not a flower, nor inscribe a stone,
Nor, when I’m gone, speak in a Sunday voice,
But be the usual selves that I have known,
Weep if you must:
Parting is hell,
But life goes on
So . . . sing as well!

[emphasis added]

. . . the following songs came to mind:

"Those Were The Days" - Mary Hopkin, 1968
"Light a Light" - Janis Ian, 1974
"Seasons In The Sun" - Terry Jacks, 1974

Read more Eulogies for Ron on my current post

~ "We Had Fun, Didn't We? " ~

@ The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker:
A Fortnightly [every 14th & 28th] Literary Blog of
Connection & Coincidence; Custom & Ceremony

Sunday, September 27, 2015


A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte with Tablet
by Matt Wuerker @ Politico
[one of many Seurat parodies]

Highlights from Dawn or Doom2
September 24 - 25, 2015

1. Lance Duerfahrd: "We all know what the light of Dawn looks like, but what is the light emitted by Doom? It is the light of a fading rectangle; the light of the cell phone is the light of Doom."
Duerfahrd began by showing a mural, similar to the above parody, in which all of Seurat's figures are holding cell phones, and comparing it to the original, in which all they gaze at the distant horizon:
In the parody, as in contemporary life, "Verizon has replaced horizon." Haha!

Dawn: the hypnotism of the horizon takes you outside of yourself

Doom: the hypnotism of the cell phone is a threat to attention

Dawn: the hypnotism of the movie screen allows you to access parts of yourself you hadn't thought about, it will to affect your perception if you let it

Doom: the cell phone is an "emerging technology" because, even though we put it away, it re-enters the atmosphere every 76 seconds (as opposed to Halley's Comet every 76 years -- get it?!)

2. Data Driven Artificial Intelligence
How about when you order a black turtleneck sweater online, and then for the next three weeks your computer screen is filled with ads for black turtlenecks? This doesn't make me feel that my computer is smart; it makes me feel that my computer is stupid. Otherwise, it might know that I'm only going to order a black turtleneck every year or so -- not every day.

The wry Deep Thoughts of Jack Handey illustrate the potential for error in data driven logic: "If you saw two guys named Hambone and Flippy, which one would you think liked dolphins the most? I'd say Flippy, wouldn't you? You'd be wrong, though. It's Hambone."

My computer knows no irony and errs consistently in its choice of Flippy!

Humans can talk their way into a connection that's real; can computers do that?

3. Things to think about for next year's movie night:
Was Her --in which fictional computers discuss dental appointments and Great Books -- one of the most entertaining movies of 2013 or one of the scariest?

Or how about WALL - E (2008) with his capacity to democritize yet destroy via nostalgia

4. Melodramatic Movie Dystopias vs Reality
Instead of the Paranormal Activity film series, how about a movie called Normal Activity?

Or how about a cop show with no arrests? That would be more like it! Ha!

5. Wisdoom
I was unable to ascertain whether the word "wisdoom," as displayed on the overhead projector in one of the lectures, was an unintentional misspelling or an intentional pun. Either way, it captures the essence of "Dawn or Doom" and serves as a one - word reminder, in case we had forgotten, that "In much wisdom is much grief: and those who increase knowledge increase sorrow" (from Ecclesiastes 1: 18).

"Wisdoom" also brought to mind that old proverb: "It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good." Even when something is bad, someone will usually benefit in some way. "For," as Tennessee Williams says, "there is no lie that contains no part of truth." Conversely, it would have to be an extremely good wind that blew no ill. No matter how good something is, it may bring harm as well.

Same with Dawn or Doom.

5. Xuedong Huang: To close the gap between machines and humans, the last mile is so hard; will it be possible? We overestimate what technology can do in one year and underestimate what it can do in ten years; so, best to focus instead on the five - year horizon.
Or, as Gerry McCartney has been saying for years: We always overestimate technology's impact in the short term and underestimate its impact in the long term.

Previous Posts


Dawn or Doom2

Dawn or Doom?

Safe Home

Friday, September 25, 2015


"This is one of the most important topics of our time."
~ Gerry McCartney ~

Things I remember from lectures given last year by
James Barrat ~ Alfredo Canziani
Torbert Rocheford ~ Gene Spafford

1. Essential vocabulary:
event horizon: a point of no return or theoretical boundary beyond which current experience does not count, such as the rim of a black hole
singularity: when machine intelligence becomes capable of self - improvement and surpasses human intelligence

2. Efficiency of Artificial Intelligence vs our "huge mammalian legacy . . .
of kindness (e.g., Mother Theresa)
but also of violence (e.g., Charles Manson)"

3. Components of human thought / AI
philosophical (thinking about thinking)
psycho - pathology
cogno - technolgy
confluence of intelligence
intelligence exposure

4. Some may ask,
"Without biological imperatives, will supercomputers be slackers?"

Barrat foresees "an ingenuity vastly, incomprehensibly greater than our own."

5. On the other hand:
Can a submarine swim?
Can an airplane fly?
Does IBM's Watson think?

6. Improved Automation = Time, which, for humans, is finite and invaluable
Will automation / AI take away jobs? Maybe.
Will automation / AI save lives? Definitely.

7. Is the brain magical? [Yes!]

Consider, for example, the neural pathways:

8. Canziani on "Visual Intelligence"
He described the brain as a "black box" and illustrated it as a Twister Game -- 6 x 4 circles -- with input receptors to the left, and ultimately, an idea emerging on the right. The brain seems to learn by itself, as every circle sends a message to every other circle, some stronger, some weaker, including sensory details and cultural preferences, in addition to references still unknown to us.

Compare the thoughtless ease with which we can walk or run to the halting gait of a video game athlete, whose input is processed in a straight line across the Twister circles, rather than the interwoven intricacy that is human thought.

9. Spafford on "Faster Than Our Understanding":
Humans are teaching machines to think faster.

Initially, as the only species to recall (from a long time ago), anticipate, and communicate in a way that transcends our existence, we recorded data to capture the past for future humans to reflect on. Now, information is processed immediately and sent from one machine to another for current (as well as future) use.

It is increasingly possible to eliminate humans from the loop.

10. Rocheford on "Global Vitamin Enhancement of Maize Grain":
Women farmers will go for smaller yield if the resulting crop is better for the children.
Men tend toward bigger yield, regardless of quality.

Malnourishment = not enough calories
Malnutrition = not enough vitamins

The cruel reality: humans can be simultaneously obese and food insecure

2015 ~ Wisdoom

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Chants for the Equinox

Medicine Bag
from First People Shops

Thanks to my friend Eve
who saved this page for me
from The Atlantic Monthly, way back in April 1986:

Feather Bag, Stick Bag

This five strands bear hair in a split match,
this a bout seeing two at love kindle my heart.
How much you pay to hear the rest?

This willow stick red thread tied
be that song before Eve wore shame,
before God pluck the garden key out Adam's mouth.
How much you pay to hear it all?

That ship, mother, go down singing.
You hold feather of the bird that told me
how they all sang when water closed.
You pay me now, I sing it.

Feather bag, stick bag, this little bone
worry me honest about my people
waiting for me pull the skein of that road
all the way out my fist and be done.
They wait, I sing, you pay, that road
ravel me out.

Dust and water, winter road. Feather
bag, stick bag, bone bag, all I had
when dust and water been my food.
Not so always. This blue scrap
be ribbon silk, and wrapped inside
she hides, she laughs my song.
Your money jingle out why.

Feather bag, stick bag -- see this
penny my anvil hammer pounded flat?
This the song I sing about you
if you don't buy my songs.

Hah! Feather bag, stick bag, bone bag.

by American poet & essayist Kim R. Stafford (b. 1949)

Medicine Wheel Drum with Stick
by Native Life Creations
~ Like a Mandala! ~

Thanks to my friend Marguerite
for sharing this one when it appeared
as the Poetry Foundation "Poem of the Day" on 3 April 2015:

A Knocker

There are those who grow
gardens in their heads
paths lead from their hair
to sunny and white cities

it's easy for them to write
they close their eyes
immediately schools of images
stream down from their foreheads

my imagination
is a piece of board
my sole instrument
is a wooden stick

I strike the board
it answers me

for others the green bell of a tree
the blue bell of water
I have a knocker
from unprotected gardens

I thump on the board
and it prompts me
with the moralist's dry poem

by Polish poet & essayist, Zbigniew Herbert (1924 - 1998)
from Selected Poems, translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott

Monday, September 21, 2015

Dawn or Doom2

~~ Click for further Details ~~
Back by Popular Demand!

Fire and Ice
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

~ Robert Frost


Or as Lucy goes around asking all of her friends
in one of my favorite Peanuts Cartoons:
"Shall I put you down for a HEADACHE or a STOMACHACHE?"

Frost Poems on Previous Posts

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Mending Wall

The Gift Outright


Christmas Trees

After Apple - Picking & Gathering Leaves

more from
Christmas Trees & Apple - Picking & Gathering Leaves

A Time to Talk

Saturday, September 19, 2015


French Learner

I always enjoyed giving my writing students this poem at the beginning of the semester, to help them learn the true meaning of essay:

There was a man with tongue of wood
Who essayed to sing,
And in truth it was lamentable.
But there was one who heard
The clip-clapper of this tongue of wood
And knew what the man
Wished to sing,
And with that the singer was content.

Stephen Crane

Crane Poems on Previous Posts

A man saw a ball of gold in the sky;

Blustering god . . . sooner would I die

I looked here;

God fashioned the ship of the world carefully.

more on the ship of the world

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Life Without Poetry

". . . like a dragonfly in a dream--"
Pink Flowers with Butterflies and a Dragonfly, 1788

Dream On

Some people go their whole lives
without ever writing a single poem.
Extraordinary people who don't hesitate
to cut somebody's heart or skull open.
They go to baseball games with the greatest of ease.
and play a few rounds of golf as if it were nothing.
These same people stroll into a church
as if that were a natural part of life.
Investing money is second nature to them.
They contribute to political campaigns
that have absolutely no poetry in them
and promise none for the future.
They sit around the dinner table at night
and pretend as though nothing is missing.
Their children get caught shoplifting at the mall
and no one admits that it is poetry they are missing.
The family dog howls all night,
lonely and starving for more poetry in his life.
Why is it so difficult for them to see
that, without poetry, their lives are effluvial.
Sure, they have their banquets, their celebrations,
croquet, fox hunts, their sea shores and sunsets,
their cocktails on the balcony, dog races,
and all that kissing and hugging, and don't
forget the good deeds, the charity work,
nursing the baby squirrels all through the night,
filling the birdfeeders all winter,
helping the stranger change her tire.
Still, there's that disagreeable exhalation
from decaying matter, subtle but everpresent.
They walk around erect like champions.
They are smooth-spoken and witty.
When alone, rare occasion, they stare
into the mirror for hours, bewildered.
There was something they meant to say, but didn't:
"And if we put the statue of the rhinoceros
next to the tweezers, and walk around the room three times,
learn to yodel, shave our heads, call
our ancestors back from the dead--"
poetrywise it's still a bust, bankrupt.
You haven't scribbled a syllable of it.
You're a nowhere man misfiring
the very essence of your life, flustering
nothing from nothing and back again.
The hereafter may not last all that long.
Radiant childhood sweetheart,
secret code of everlasting joy and sorrow,
fanciful pen strokes beneath the eyelids:
all day, all night meditation, knot of hope,
kernel of desire, pure ordinariness of life
seeking, through poetry, a benediction
or a bed to lie down on, to connect, reveal,
explore, to imbue meaning on the day's extravagant labor.
And yet it's cruel to expect too much.
It's a rare species of bird
that refuses to be categorized.
Its song is barely audible.
It is like a dragonfly in a dream--
here, then there, then here again,
low-flying amber-wing darting upward
then out of sight.
And the dream has a pain in its heart
the wonders of which are manifold,
or so the story is told.
~ [emphasis added]

by American Poet James Tate
(8 December 1943 – 8 July 2015)

More poems by James Tate on my current post

~ "Chariton Connections" ~

@ The Fortnightly Kitti Carriker:
A Fortnightly [every 14th & 28th] Literary Blog of
Connection & Coincidence; Custom & Ceremony


Previous Fortnightly Posts:

for July 14th: "Modernism In A Handful of Dust"
~ Leonard Orr ~

and July 28th: "Thoroughly Modernism"
~Edouard Manet ~

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Grandparents Day

“Walking, I can almost hear the redwoods beating. And the oceans are above me here, rolling clouds, heavy and dark. It is winter and there is smoke from the fires. It is a world of elemental attention, of all things working together, listening to what speaks in the blood. Whichever road I follow, I walk in the land of many gods, and they love and eat one another. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.”
Linda Hogan
Dwellings: A Spiritual History of the Living World

The following poem by my friend Charlotte
also seems perfect for the occasion:

Can you, on the edge
of sleep frame a question
worth answering?
Having stumbled one night
into an unexpected dream,
can you find your way back out,
straightening your shoulders,
shaking yourself free?
As midnight bears down and restless
drivers ease themselves into the cool
night air, the exhalations of their dreams
propelling them with hissing sounds
along the city streets -- can you open
your window and welcome everything
you've lost and gained and lost and gained
again, remaining calm amid this sorrow
and elation?
Can you explain to yourself, or anyone,
what your life is? And why it matters
so much now to keep on breathing?

Charlotte Stewart
November 9, 1999

In this next poem, the image of forsythia suggests spring,
yet I can't help thinking that the two poems belong together,
so here it is, in late summer:

It's about needing to get
where you have to go but
never quite knowing how.
It's about soft light and
after light as the sun
goes down on another day
of not knowing.
It's about the beauty and
promise and predicament
of that.
Its about finding promise
in the arms of the forsythia
as it unfolds its yellow
light -- which is enough
and never enough.
It's about the stickiness
of life on your fingers --
sometimes honey sometimes
It's about that --
about living with that.

Charlotte Stewart
January 7, 2000

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Fuqua on the Prowl

Thanks to Gerry for
capturing not the mouse but
Fuqua in haiku:

At the door, again:
Real or a Dream, who can know?
No sign of a mouse.

Undaunted, I help:
With only a box, catch mouse

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Making the Pesto and Dancing in the Kitchen

"Nothing can replace the shock of pleasure
given by a small mountain of fresh basil
in the summer kitchen."

Eleanor Perenyi

Basil & Oregano

Getting Started . . .

Food Processor Magic!

When the Holy Spirit Danced With Me in My Kitchen

the first thing I noticed was his arms,
thick and hairy like a bricklayer’s
with a tattoo of an anchor
as Churchill had.

‘Coming for a spin?’ he grinned,
in an accent more Geordie than Galilee,
and he whirled me
through tango, foxtrot and waltz
without missing a beat.

‘You’re good,’ I said. ‘Thanks,’
he said, taking two glasses to the tap.
‘You’re not so bad yourself,
for someone with no sense of rhythm
and two left feet.’
He gave me a wink.

‘It’s all in the waist.
The movement has to start there
or it’s dead.’
‘You’ll find it applies to most things,’
he went on, grabbing the kettle.
‘Writing, cooking, kissing,
all the things you’re good at,
or think you are.’
He winked again.

‘You don’t mind me asking,’ I said,
‘but why are you here?’
‘I thought it was about time,’
he said. ‘I mean, you’ve been full stretch,
haven’t you, what with your job,
feeling like a taxi for the kids,
your family living far away,
and you "in your head" all the time
as you said to someone last week.’
I looked at him and nodded.
‘Go on.’
‘I was going to.’
He got down some mugs.
‘Let’s say I was concerned about you.
The thing is, the three of us,
we like you a lot.
We think you’ve got real potential
as a human. You’re kind and humorous.
You’re also a little scatty.
We like that. By the way, that fish curry
you made on Saturday was first class.’

‘You know about that?’
‘Everything you get up to,’
he smiled. ‘It’s nothing to panic about.
Really. To tell you the truth
you could do with loosening up a little.
Try not beating yourself up the whole time.
A little less rushing everywhere
would do you good, too.’

‘I thought you might say that.’
‘Look at me,’ he said.
‘I came to say:
Keep Going, and Relax.
Also: keep things simple.
If you are doing one thing,
do that thing. If you are talking
with someone, listen to them,
do not blame them for being hard work.
Write as if you were not afraid,
and love in this way too.
Be patient with everyone, especially
your relations, who (I can assure you)
think you are rather special.
Make big decisions slowly, and small decisions
fast. Do not make bitterness your friend.
Pray (I will not mind if you use
made up words for this.)
Garrison was right: ‘Why
have good things you don’t use?’
What you have been given to do,
give yourself to it completely,
only by emptying yourself can you become full.’

by Anthony Wilson
from Full Stretch (Worple Press, 2006)

Monday, September 7, 2015

Lift Every Voice, Hold Every Heart

A few days ago, on our 26th anniversary, I posted the readings and song lyrics that Gerry and I picked for our wedding ceremony. For today ~ Sam's 22nd birthday! ~ I give you the songs that we picked for his baptism Sunday and for Ben's:

Ben (born 2 June 1990)
~ 15 July 1990 ~

Lift Every Voice and Sing, 1900
lyrics by James Weldon Johnson (1871 - 1928)
music by John Rosamond Johnson (1873–1954)

Lift every voice and sing,
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the list’ning skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on till victory is won.

Stony the road we trod,
Bitter the chast’ning rod,
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died;
Yet with a steady beat,
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our fathers sighed?
We have come over a way that with tears has been watered.
We have come, treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered,
Out from the gloomy past,
Till now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast.

God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who hast by Thy might,
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest our hearts, drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.

Sam (born 7 September 1993)
~ 21 November 1993 ~

Here I Am, Lord, 1981
Lyrics and music
by Dan Schutte (b 1947)

I, the Lord of sea and sky
I have heard my people cry
All who dwell in dark and sin
My hand will save.

I who made the stars of night
I will make the darkness bright
Who will bear my light to them
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.

I the Lord of snow and rain
I have borne my people's pain
I have wept for love of them
They turn away.

I will break their hearts of stone
Fill their hearts with love alone
I will speak my word to them
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night
I will go Lord
If you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart.

I the Lord of wind and flame,
I will tend the poor and lame.
I will set a feast for them,
My hand will save

Finest bread I will provide,
Till their hearts be satisfied.
I will give My life to them,
Whom shall I send?

Here I am Lord
Is it I Lord?
I have heard you calling in the night.
I will go Lord
if you lead me.
I will hold your people in my heart.

P.S. To Sam:
Thanks for sharing your birthday post with your brother!

Sunday, September 6, 2015

A Glad Sound with the Setting Sun

"Vivid evening light on the wheat field
as the sun sets on summer 2015. . .

. . . I was surprised it turned out this well;
it's just a Iphone shot from midway up a nearby hill.
. . . but you get this effect often.
I just had the good fortune to be able to capture it last night."

~ Photograph by Brigit Farley ~

Lyrics for Labor Day:

Come, Labor On!
Who dares stand idle, on the harvest plain
While all around him waves the golden grain?
And to each servant does the Master say,
“Go work today.”

Come, labor on!
Claim the high calling angels cannot share—
To young and old the Gospel gladness bear;
Redeem the time; its hours too swiftly fly.
The night draws nigh.

Come, labor on!
The enemy is watching night and day,
To sow the tares, to snatch the seed away;
While we in sleep our duty have forgot, He slumbered not.

Come, labor on!
Away with gloomy doubts and faithless fear!
No arm so weak but may do service here:
By feeblest agents may our God fulfill
His righteous will.

Come, labor on!
No time for rest, till glows the western sky,
Till the long shadows o’er our pathway lie,
And a glad sound comes with the setting sun,
“Well done, well done!”

Come, labor on!
The toil is pleasant, the reward is sure;
Blessèd are those who to the end endure;
How full their joy, how deep their rest shall be,
O Lord, with Thee!

Lyrics by Jane Laurie Borthwick (1813-1897)

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

There Will Your Heart Be Also

Rosanne & Ron ~ 6 August 1955

Tina & Alastair ~ 7 September 1985

Kitti & Gerry ~ 2 September 1989

Selected Readings From Our Ceremony

Ecclesiastes 4:9-12

Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labor.
For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up.
Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him.

Baruch 5:1-9

Jerusalem, take off your dress of sorrow and distress, put on the beauty of the glory of God for ever, wrap the cloak of the integrity of God around you, put the diadem of the glory of the Eternal on your head: since God means to show your splendour to every nation under heaven, since the name God gives you for ever will be, "Peace through integrity, and honour through devotedness." Arise, Jerusalem, stand on the heights and turn your eyes to the east: see your sons reassembled from west and east at the command of the Holy One, jubilant that God has remembered them. Though they left you on foot, with enemies for an escort, now God brings them back to you like royal princes carried back in glory. For God has decreed the flattening of each high mountain, of the everlasting hills, the filling of the valleys to make the ground level *so that Israel can walk in safety under the glory of God. And the forests and every fragrant tree will provide shade for Israel at the command of God; for God will guide Israel in joy by the light of his glory with his mercy and integrity for escort."
[*emphasis added; see also Psalm 46 and "Stand By Me": "If the sky that we look upon should tumble and fall / Or the mountains should crumble to the sea / I won't cry, I won't cry, no I won't shed a tear / Just as long as you stand, stand by me." ~ Ben E. King]
from Psalm 19
composer, David Haas

Refrain: Lord, you have the words of everlasting life.

The law of the Lord is perfect, refreshing the soul;
the Lord's rule is to be trusted, the simple find wisdom.

The fear of the Lord is holy, abiding forever;
the decrees of the Lord are true, all of them just.

The precepts of the Lord are right, they gladden the heart,
the command of the Lord is clear, giving light to the eye.

They are worth more than gold, than the finest gold,
sweeter than honey, than honey from the comb.

Philippians 4:4-8

Rejoice in the Lord always: and again I say, Rejoice.
Let your moderation be known unto all. The Lord is at hand.
Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Finally, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Luke 12: 31 - 36

But rather seek the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added to you. Fear not, little flock; for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell what you have and give alms; provide yourselves bags which won't grow old, a treasure in the heavens that does not fail, where no thief approaches, nor moth corrupts. For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. Let your loins be girded about and let your light be lit. And you yourselves like those who wait for their Lord, when he will return from the wedding; that when he comes and knocks, they may open the door to him immediately.

One Bread, One Body
composer John B. Foley

One bread, one body,
one Lord of all,
one cup of blessing which we bless.
And we, though many,
throughout the earth,
we are one body in this one Lord.

Gentile or Jew,
servant or free
woman or man, no more.

Many the gifts,
many the works,
one in the Lord of all.

Grain for the fields,
scattered and grown,
gathered to one, for all.

One bread, one body,
one Lord of all,
one cup of blessing which we bless.
And we, though many,
throughout the earth,
we are one body in this one Lord.

26th Anniversary ~ Kitti & Gerry

30th Anniversary ~ Tina & Alastair

60th Anniversary ~ Rosanne & Ron

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Moon Language

With That Moon Language

Admit something:
Everyone you see, you say to them, "Love me."

Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise
someone would call the cops.

Still, though, think about this,
this great pull in us to connect.

Why not become the one who lives with a
full moon in each eye that is
always saying,

with that sweet moon language,
what every other eye in
this world is
dying to

Hafiz (1325 – 1389)
14th - Century Beloved Persian poet and lyrical genius


When Someone I Love Is Near

I know the vows the sun and moon took;
they are in love but they don't

But why should I not let my face become
lit before this

when someone I cherish
is near? (206)


They Kiss Sometimes

They kiss sometimes when no one is looking,
the sun and moon.

Why are they so shy before us --
haven't we all seen someone making love? . . .

both by
St. Catherine of Siena (1347 - 1380)

14th - Century Scholastic philosopher and theologian


Above translations by Daniel Ladinsky

*"Is this coincidence or connection?"
come and see
fall to your knees
and hear the call
Are you still lovesick for it all?"

Sung by Young Galaxy
In one of our favorite summer movies: The Way Way Back


More on my Fortnightly Posts:

for August 14th: "The RedBear Connection"

and August 28th:"Luna Moth Summer"


Above Photo = Oestara Moon