Generosity of Soul

Free Occasion Cards

2011-11-24T15:52:00.000-05:00

I originally made these for an app on Facebook but I didn't do it properly and they were a bit of a nusance sending, ie they did not pop up for recipients. Anyway, cut and paste these, print, or email to friends.

These Stardays Cards are shareware, and available to all but not for commercial use or reissue. It is a present but please respect peoples' sentiments. They have a right to warm friendship without being exploited.

The Religious Author

2010-10-04T17:50:00.000-04:00

“Oh, You Should Live on Donation”

Universal Rights and Freedoms

The Universal Declaration on Human Rights comes to mind readily. The Internet brings this link into focus at the top of the search list, because I have posed a question. It is this, typed into the search window of my desktop:

“Why works on religion should be free".

Link, if you wish, to Universal Declaration of Human Rights

Some people believe that, even if a person has spent several years in university, that their discussion of religious concepts, or research into religion, archeological discovery, philosophy and discourse alike should be supported only by stipend or donations.

I am researching peoples' opinions because of the damp fatuosity of the greedy types who believe a poor person with hardly a bean should produce, publish and pay for thousands of texts for the people, all free of charge, because they are they are students of religion. Of course, it is an impossibility for most individuals to back the manufacture for, say, a million texts, and yet, not just Reverends, Rabbis or nuns have opinions or ideas about worship. These people, probably more often in the majority, would not enjoy the support of any religious organization, which would purchase the books through ongoing donations.

I decided to have a look at true public opinion and I will start with the obvious.
If you care to research our actually guaranteed human rights on earth, you could look at Articles 2 and 4 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, published and maintained by the United Nations.

Religious Opinion and Civil Rights

A paragraph in Kerry L. Morgans’ "Unalienable Rights, Equality and the Free Exercise of Religion"

states that: “RELIGIOUS OPINION NEITHER EXPANDS OR DIMINISHES CIVIL RIGHTS OR CAPACITIES…

"Several state Declaration of Rights articulate the relationship between religious liberty and the rule of equality.120 Virginia stated the broadest rule of all, not limiting its application to those who acknowledged God or professed Christianity. It declared that "all men shall be free to profess, and by argument to maintain, their opinions in matters of religion, and that the same shall in no wise diminish, enlarge, or affect their civil capacities." In other words, religious opinions should not affect civil capacities, and by necessary implication non-religious opinions should not affect civil capacities either."

Link to Kerry L. Morgans’ "Unalienable Rights, Equality and the Free Exercise of Religion

In our rich western world, the idea that a person can study religions and religious philosophies for forty years or more, even to the point of taking university courses in Theology, only to be both used without concern for the civil liberties of their own lives, and also despised for their subsequent poverty or meagreness after having been so exploited under the supposition that a religious career must only be paid by donation is not just preposterous, in this day and age it borders on deviancy.

Morgans’ statement Number one goes on to say:

"The equality principle prevents state and Congressional infringement or adjustment of civil rights on account of one's belief or mode of worship. The principle is part and parcel of both the free exercise clause of the federal Constitution and to the extent the idea is reflected in state constitutions, it constitutes the law of that state as well. In a nutshell the law of equality declares that opinion or belief may in no way diminish, enlarge, or affect civil capacities."

Americas' Constitution poses the basic understanding:

"all persons have a natural right to life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness and the enjoyment of the gains of their own industry;"

If this particular aspect of that constitution were not repeatedly of note in every medium, the free TV shows, internet capabilities, email and telephone advantages that we so enjoy would never have gained the backing nor have attracted the diversity of cultural intent that everyone now takes for granted.

Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms

Under Fundamental Freedoms, Canadas Charter declares:

"2. Everyone has the following fundamental freedoms:

(a) freedom of conscience and religion;

(b) freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication;

(c) freedom of peaceful assembly; and

(d) freedom of association.”

Examine (b)
'the freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press and other media of communication.'

Slavery

If a person is guaranteed the freedom of their own minds' perspective, philosophy, including religious choices plus freedom of the press and other media it stands to reason that no author, philosopher or publisher shall be made a slave (nor perceived of as one) by any other citizen or group of citizens.

There is no reason, (because religious leaders have presented teachings that have inspired any poetry, authorship of literature, film, art, etc.) for the original church or religious body to lay claims upon the cultural production as if an extension of that one body of faith!
Imagining that a human being should exist upon the whims of donors for their
earthly wages alone is naiive, and also deeply demanding.
The notion that only Gods work is done and therefore all revenues from the tasks should be given to "God" (that is, to serve the charitable extensions, executives and hierarchies) of any one faith can be seen as presumptuous if applied to any other career choices, like science or music; yet astronomers, physicists, composers, each one of these may be deeply inspired and educated by the same works of faith, the same leaders, and even some of the same university courses, in producing their own contributions to humankind.

The Disgust of Bloody Martyrdom

I notice personally that religious martyrdom is still expected of any moderate, civilized individual by those who are used to luxuries in life. Like the early Romans with their appalling arenas filled with bestial and indecent slaughter, they are looking for a sensationalistic show. Not just ill-mannered, but socially terribly lazy and conceited, they imagine that much of the world should be catering to their way of life, that it has always been so, and therefore there is no need for change.

I note that few news articles feature mega-rich, acheived and famous people who have viciously martyred themselves.
The last great person (almost) who deliberately martyred his person publicly was Mahatma Ghandi. Although he was a state leader, he deliberately went on a starvation diet to demonstrate the suffering of his people.
Perhaps people were too ignorant in the pre-global days to have understood the misery that Indias’ people lived with.
A few famous people have followed Ghandis' example, but martyrdom and its attendant fanaticism are frowned upon by those who are promoting wholesome, equalized and decent conditions for all sentient beings.

In this day and age, we are disgusted at the image of a young man bound to his fundamentalist issues to the point of taking his life with explosives in order to murder others. Murder and the creation of chaos is abhorrent.

Many of us see that the action of the Romans against Christ Jesus were abhorrent; they tortured the great leader of the Jews, and expected to be able to murder him slowly on the cross.
In that primitive age, Rabbis were expected, traditionally, to take turns martyring themselves for their people.
Destroying our religious leaders is almost unthinkable today. When we pray (or lobby) for results, we are intending to offer some actions or energies of our own as well as to wait for the One to answer all aspects of the need.

My philosophy is humanistic. I do not believe in self-torture, I think of it as not just masochistic or machisma, but sometimes a type of deviant flashing, meant to enhance the self-view of spiritual determinism, or to encourage others to heroize one’s person.

Pass the Tools for Production (but hold it on Marxism)

I don't believe that people who endeavour to share their religious education should indulge in that type of glittering, hyper-emotional self abuse either. Any persons functionality demands some means for shelter, food, clothing, health care, travel costs, educational and work tools.
When fundamentalists not only fail to provide these, while insisting that an author/teacher (whatever) is performing a religious service, therefore this service should be freely “given”, they are expecting work of a spiritual nature to be created only by the mega rich, or those who have access to funds from religious bodies of faith.

This means anyone with diverse education, leaning or a new perspective upon spiritual philosophy (whether demonstrated in literary or other creative modes like art or music) will be no more than a slave to be used by those entrenched in fundamentalist sects of any one religious body. They are used to patriarchal organizations.

Western religion has sought to rectify the hateful tendency to enslave, and has insisted upon teachings that have unfolded toward democratic equalization.

We can see how democratic thinking supports the health and well being of religious celibates in the West (even though they may have taken vows of poverty) in that they are clean, usually well fed and housed with respect to their right to cleanliness, rest and other types of decency. One may perceive that their intellectualism and steadfastness rides upon not starvation or deprivation, but on some mode of payment.

On the other hand, many of us are exasperated by media Ministering that openly solicits the public, presenting products and asking for enormous costing or donations.
We feel, perhaps, that the showman is more of a con artist than a religious leader, but it is because many of us are leary of media process and ownership. Indeed, Mass Communication educators express just that; that the ownership of most periodicals, news syndicates and programs is in the hands of a very few. It is only in the last twenty years or so, for example, that employing Afro-American or East Indian actors or news anchors became normative for television news presentations. Even that was a struggle.

The tenor and tenets of western media had been formed through the twentieth century for commercial purpose, to satisfy and attract a largely white immigrant populus.
Much work had to be done to equalize opportunity, even in an industry that had pioneered in helping an ignorant populus form a more respectable opinion of the worlds' cultures, peoples and of human rights globally.

Life, Liberty and Security of the Person

In Canada, Under Legal Rights, Life, Liberty and Security of the Person, #7:

"Everyone has the right to life, liberty and security of the person and the right not to be deprived thereof except in accordance with the principles of fundamental justice."

No-one need be deprived of their living and their right to gain from employment, or self-employment.

There is truly a lot to say about the demands of people who feel, for some reason that they are so Godly that they should just be served. Their spiritual poverty comes either from the ignorance of the very rich or of the terribly poor and disadvantaged, but it is not convenient for our democratic nations to support religious people as if perennial students.

Religious researchers/writers/painters may be highly motivated and intense, but their high energy or attention to human morality or toward spiritual acheivements should not be conceived to be either a disability or a useless occupation - people should pay for these services just as they do for any other. Why is peace work despicable, compared to the manufacture of Coca Cola, Tampax or Antihistamines?

Professionals in religion work toward peace and equanimity, health and fruitfulness, much the same as those adhering to political or health doctrines.

What I am beginning to hear is that the attitude that has callously made of the actor a whore (circa 1204) or of the artist a toy (circa 1980) and of the religious teacher a stone or a freak sex trip (circa 1965 and on via drug daytrippers) seems to have extended its viciousness and greed toward web designers, doctors, nurses, soldiers and all kinds of educated people whose application is for the benefit of a worlds' peace.
People like geophysicists, mineralogists, police officers, industrial nurses and others whose professions take them into the worlds' dangerous badlands seem to be constantly not just put down or hated, but tortured, martyred, typecast into roles that are unconfortable, underpaid, disrespected and even thought of as spare parts that just should be there to serve, but who will pay?

These fatuous airheads won't. Their whine and demand noises barely cover up for their ratty covetousness, graft and outright extortion of funds into such important pursuits as cocaine dealership, guns running and the purchase of tender but tabu flesh.

I see the increasingly rude mistreatment of educated people as symptomatic of this malaise. Greed from right wing narrowness, bigotry of all kinds, and self serving from the antique traditions of apartheid, whether racial or social amount to what intellectual diseases create the grounds for warfare and eventually chaotic, destructive forces on the earth.

Social Disorder

Through neo-puritanism, we are establishing social disorder.

If we listen to those who scream the loudest that their needs should be served, free of charge, and buy their extraordinary disparity within our own belief structures, we are aiding and abetting fascism and the eventual breakdown of civilization through violence and slavery. So, caveat emptor- if a group of people demands that any given target be forced to work for free- you're joining the Nazis or the Mafia for flagrant ignorance and criminality if you agree with them.

People need to be practical and kind in their relationships with others, even if these comprise the dialectic of commerce.

Organizing 12,000 Photos? Why?

2010-09-23T16:03:00.004-04:00

I keep my photos on Flickr.com. It only costs me $25.00 a year, and I decided it would be a great way to conserve all the recent shots (and some of the families' vintage material, too).
I felt that flood, fire or looting might interfere with my memories if I didn't keep a hard copy online.
I can upload 200 photos and the site tells me that I have uploaded 0% of my quota for the day, or it is massive storage, without advertising the idea.
One can share images with fellow photographers, leave and receive comments or mail, so it is a kind of pen pal club for people who don't have the time to explain everything.

Blogging Photographs

I made a small photo book a couple of years ago, and I really enjoyed editing and publishing the work.
When the time came to annotate the works that I had chosen, I found that I could write up a storm, in fact- I had secrets that only a few people should be reading. I gave upon the idea of blogging my photos for this reason, and also because I am not sure how long it would take to blog 12,000 photographs.

Balls

Balls, balls, balls! When I posted umpteen images of vintage Christmas balls in September, there may have been some initial interest in the glass content, it is true. Argh- what frustration I have run into...I annotated the description page of every photo on my desktop. I spent half an hour minutely studying the White Gift stories of the generous Jewry or royalty, and its gift giving to the tiny or the needy - all preserved in finite amounts of glass or glass chroming.
To my dismay, when I decided to set them onto Flickr for my friends and family in the arts, or for the collectors to whom I am connected as a contact, all of the info had wiped off my photos.
I waited nearly a year before looking at them again, and decided to post them tabula rasa for the most part, with a little titling to stimulate collector interest.

I had unfortunately run into the old fall-into-the-tree-when- skunkily-drunk routine, an activity most surely inherited by my husband from his forefathers, as I am sure most men have.
So, I had kept the precious stories in broken form, and I published these, too- as if casting transparencies of crumbs upon the laughing waters of the visually literate Internet.

Making Sets

Why didn't I think of this before? I started to organize sets during this Virgoan month of September, because I had so much from the last few years. i primitively began with the colours of the rainbow, colour by colour (almost finished). Here was my covenant in the love that the great Creator has bestowed upon me- the love of colours, shapes, textures, of life proliferate and sounding.
I spent about a week reissuing my images in such a way that I made sense to myself. I had to evaluate how far I had progressed (at all) in the art of photography.
I have no difficulty making graphics form my photos, and love to play, but this has meant leaving painting, drawing, crafting and many other arts skills behind. I may now paint in changing opalescence, gems, moving scapes that allow me to publish sounds and text and graphics and images- either my own art or photos and videos. It is most tremendously exciting, but it is also a new set of media for me.Basically, I might as well be any eighteen year old student wowing at what I can do to stun, bedazzle and speak to friends and opponents alike. I make protest art, publish dark, mysterious Hallowe'en videos and photo sets, dash around parks looking for our nations' history, and I have done a lot of this. So much. I decided to organize my sets to see what I had not done, yet.
Clicking to the Explore page of Flickr.com offers some of the most vigourously brilliant, exciting photo sets in the world. It never ceases to inspire me, and I do this regularly now.
When someone published a brilliant set of window images (boy, was I jealous!) I decided to garner the window shots I had taken over the years. For some reason, I remember tons of storefront shots that are not on Flickr. My memory fails me, and it is due to Flickrs' huge storage capacity that I can gather the harvest of my street interest. I made my own set of window images, and I loved them. I realized that I had shot them because I love them. I love glass things, reflections, transparencies, the freedom of gaze, if you will.

After that it was easy to collect my stars and my lanterns. I collect star images and real lanterns. There again- where were so many of my images? Lost to photo albums of the past, edited away, maybe? There is a good reality to taking stock, and that is that a photographer can always take a shot again, if the subject has not broken or got wrinkled as the case may be. (Sort-of, anyway.) I go to parks where the earth has turned up wonders I could not imagine existed, and the next year (or even minute) the image is lost forever, or not due back for seven years, who knows. No, I must not lose out on those wonderful discoveries and memories. But maybe blogging the way that I spout off is not appropriate. There is always someone who will come and spoil a scene or even steal a priceless image away.
Portrait photography has been calling me for some time, and yet I have not used my legacy tripod, any lighting, scenes; play scenarism that the students get into first. I stop for a second. Note: make time to take real portraits with the tripod. Note 2: Take photos of friends while the sun shines; I just lost another one to the chaotic cosmos out there.

Wonders

I wonder at the numerous dark images that I have created, and mourn the innocence that would allow me to take child and baby photos. Predators and commercial exploitation have alarmed parents so badly with regard to what ills an unknown photographer might produce, if they poke too many lenses into too many baby faces. In the old days, of course, we were young parents and took images of each others' kids. Do I have to take an elders' inventory, or what? Personally, I modelled for professional artists with my husband when we were young arts students. I was vastly pregnant at the time, and I got sketched by Harold Town among other notables. But wait, I can't ask young mothers to pose for personal shots like this. Social ills have inhibited many of us (that includes me).
There are so many schools of thought,and perhaps taking stock as I have begun to do will evoke some new photographic journey. Maybe it will piss me off and make me draw things again. That's the last thing I thought of when I examined my addiction to the arts world.

Anyway, it is important to keep folders and files clear, and to take stock in ones activities. Why is anything worth the effort? Who are we as publishers? Is it a call, or a dream or a geekified madness? I had great fun calling the government balls, and casting the sinful lot into someone elses' net. Didn't I have enough toys or hugs as a kid? Sometimes I try so hard to show people what is important in life, taking pains to illustrate or to title and annotate online.

Maybe this blog will turn into a photo blog, but it is so controlling. It means that I am focusing people upon what I can see by relying upon their readership rather than their spiritual aspect on vision.

I question the yeeearggh stage of journalistic shrieking in myself, and in others. Is this alerting people better than the solid photo journalism that brought you streams of tears and slams of outrage - the image of those children running form napalm, the burns and tears and blood mingling into one hopeless horrifying shot at high tech warfare, at the US of yesteryear.

I do have shots like this, but somehow I am intimidated. I don't want to exploit delicate situations, and I only hint at them, at least online.

Note: balls to self, and make more pretty decos this year, to cheer self up. Balls, I agree.

Dragging through it all

2009-12-18T11:14:00.010-05:00

Feel like a stuffed Robotic Santy this year?

I guess so many of us go through the gifting and visits by rote, and it all used to be fun. A bottle of Chianti and a candle stuck in a Chianti empty was all we younger people needed to get the party started way back when...music, though! Music gets you into some sort of adjusted feeling of belonging, even when you are old and grey.

I can't stand Chianti on my tum these days, and I don't eat turkey, or stuffing that has been in it. In fact, I'm vegetarian and I never bother whining away about getting what is traditional. A few cranberries and some delicious and fancy hors d'ouevres or sweets really cheer a person up a bit, though, anytime.

At left and above, I decided to show you the life-size Santa I found down south in the US a few years ago. Santa I do not need, either, but it is interesting to note that the legend must have been built upon a reality of gentle travellers, who could not resist gifting the kids of each village, nor donating purses to those in need.

I discovered Holly trees that were fifty feet high in southern US, so magnificent, really; they were rich with very fresh berries, since the climate is so much milder than in Ontario. We tripped around in just shoes and light jackets, instead of facing 16 degree below weather and snow.

Not only Holly grew in Kentucky, USA, but I found, to my amazement, that clumps of Mistletoe (an air plant that grows on trees like Orchids) clung above my head in half a dozen spots where my husband and I were visiting. So, kiss someone under this (shown at right):

Oh, I do feel a bit sour and maudlin this time of year, but I love to travel, anyway!! I like the gifting part because I love my family.

Giving Lots!

A member of my family sent me a great link as a "card". I appreciated this so much, because the Christmas Jukebox had a collection of really classic retro songs on it:

You can find this on: Heavens Gates, A Fifties Christmas Jukebox.

Link here to play the songs (great cartoons, too) http://heavens-gates.com/50s/50s_christmas.html

There, squeeeeze, (associated sounds of phishing for last dime stuck in bottom of green shopping bag) I gave to you and yours! Wasn't hard!

Laughing Lots!

Just thought I'd add a Night Before Christmas Poem I made (like a zillionteen others on the net) in case you found it amusing.........

A Doctors' Christmas Eve

'Twas the night before Christmas,When, 'pon top of the house,

There seemed to be restlessness-could be a mouse (?)
It couldn't be the family,

They were neat as a pin,

Surely, mice were too educated to ever get in…
Still, something rumbled, it crunched and repeatedly sounded,

As carols and bells through the night air resounded…
On top of the roof there stood someone quite bulky,

Took a look with the laser,

Must admit I'm a bit sulky..
Only two hours off this year, then its' back to the lab,

This had better be fruitful,or that visitors' on a slab!
(Note: The stockings were hung from the mantle with care-

All their toes had a star,

So we could look after the dears.

Wee nursies at night, they could take a quick peek-

Are the children all well,

Is each one asleep?)
There - on the roof, stood a dirty old hippie,

A nose obviously sprung from F.A.S., not so pretty!

A belly that groaned with intense, obese strain,

And frost upon frost on the senile old brain.
The old boy had lived upon Schnapps and fruitcake,

And the stink as he farted could make the ground quake.
At once, I remembered the Hippiecratic oath,

And I called 911 to get rid of the oaf.
I repeated my Doctors annotations to reception,

And all they could say was,

Must be your epileption,
Why, Doctor, they complained, in great disbelief,

How could there be a man on your roof- Oh, good grief!

And his dress is all red, you say, (Have ye had too much cheer?)

And, don't you forget, sir, to take your pills this year!
Have you forgotten? -Why, a great sack, you say?

We've no room for obscenity, to you, sir, a good day!
911 cut me off, and ,in fear, I imagined,

The weird old creation above shoved his bag in.
Quick! The children!

How could he?

Why, bats poo on rooves!

Quick boil all the soot, and the soles of their hooves,

And that man-must be crazy-all clean- das is goot!
But, I must be hallucinating,(Must be my patients)

There are deer on the roof too, (A condition that's latent?)
He has called them by name, so strange and bizarre,

Saying "on Donner, On, Blitzen,"

"Fly, Rudolph, and Bonghead, and Cutie, and Vixen"
Poor old soul must be saying,

From unimaginable dendritic tangles,

Why he's chosen the roof,

Where his dementia rangles,
Donner means "done, eh?"

From the blitzen of drugs,

And Rudolph, his old friend,

From a tough gang of thugs?
That vixen from the twenties,

He remembers her well,

But I'm sure she's departed

and now he's IN HELL.
Where's my kit,one more client-

There's no time to lose!It's back to the grind and on wi' my shoes!
I gathered (much later) and really, how quaint,

That he carried toys for children,calling himself a saint.

Santa Claus was his name,

And he muttered "Saint Nick"
Note to self:Check the ground for some tainted oil slick.

Perhaps it's from Russia,

Then again, from a cat,

But there must be some truth to this schiz-Fancy that!
Morning broke,Christmas Day,

And the kiddies were fine,

But Dad suffered hypothermia, and haematoma, this time.
Ah, me(said the Doctor)

Anything for the kids,

But he slunk (cause he stunk from last night) onto the skids.
He skied and he wailed

For a full week, to say,

I love you, dear children,(Though Daddys' away)
You'll always be well,

That's my present to you,

And there'll be no more hippies.

I'll swear that, to you.
We'll take little Santa And study him - parfait,

And then Happy New Year to the dear-Take 'im away!

There is also a site full of happy poetry just like that right on this URL I'm about to post:

Laugh lots, go ahead, link to the poems below...December won't seem so awfully depressing!

Night Before Christmas Parodies

http://urbanlegends.about.com/od/historical/a/twas_the_night.htm

Gayla, a good gift would be a call from you!

Happy Something?

Do You Love Photography?

2009-03-15T14:15:00.034-04:00

The Deep Purpleness of Our Heritage

When I chose images for my little photo arts book, I found that my heritage quest and the explorations that I have made in Eastern North America matched up with some of the themes and discoveries that I have mentioned in my work, Meeting Ananda Bodhi - Heavenly Enlightenment .

More than a few images spoke to me, and in depth, about the profound history behind the religions of Christianity, Judaism, and even Wicca!

Perhaps you understand the micro photonic images in plants, or, like me, you can see where pigment or gem has come from, and what history it has been made to portray.
Most of my images are made for meditative spirits like you.

My first education was as a Material Artist, majoring in Metal Arts. Work over 45 years has sensitized my vision to understanding earth, and strolling through its mysteries and messages.

I hope that you will love these images the way that I do.

Deep Purple started with a little photo essay I made for my website, Herbs by Northdays Image. Although some of my herb study shows in the book, the name Deep Purple expresses a love of the spiritual in all things. My theme name comes from an early 20th century music score, and song, by that name, by Peter Rose.

My journey made me a pop-up mini-Publisher (albeit of my own work) and I am publishing my book, Deep Purple, under the name "Natural Light". It has a Canadian ISBN number, although it can be obtained from the book manufacturer, Lulu, an US firm.

Lulu.com also lets you download an online version of a photography book. My download price for 100 pages of images is half that of the printed work.

One of most delightful discoveries I have made about becoming a Canadian publisher is that you do not pay a company to produce a library number (ISBN) for you. Instead, you donate several copies of your work to a government library for Canadiana. It is really very charming, and I am (for once) delighted with the Government of Canada!

You can find my work on Lulu.com, either in the books' description page, or on my Lulu storefront.

LINK TO: Deep Purple, to view the book description.

If you have questions about the content of Deep Purple, or wish to comment about anything, feel free to add your perspective here.

Cutting Through

2009-01-13T18:27:00.005-05:00

Perhaps you have grown up with the expressions, "splitting the bindu", or cutting through red tape.
Maybe your idea of challenging the world is to arm yourself with the sword of truth.

When I was a young student of eastern studies, I had already grown up with the European concepts of the sword of truth, the double edged sword, the "Sword of Damocles", as if the sword of truth dangled above a young, innocent students' head, anyway!

We are innocent people who use concepts that are rhetorically romantic to most of us. Few of us arm ourselves with swords in order to conquer the world.

During my early years studying Buddhism, one of the meditation techniques that I learned was "splitting the bindu". We were supposed to imagine the subject that we sought as a bubble or gem-like bead in front of us. Bindu means "bubble", or "gem".

This technique, we were told, was an ability to "intellectually" cut through problems that we found hard to face, like bad feelings, psychic chit chat, even illness in ourselves and others. As well, when we did not understand a situation we were told of this technique for "lightning-swift samadhi" (the sword of change).

All of us tried this and some of us adhered to the concept, as if surgeons, construction people, etc.

As I grew a little more mature I started to notice that "splitting the bindu" was starting to be troublesome - this idea was becoming ferocious as young people dreamed up antique swords and giant blades, smashing them with brutal awareness at peoples' intellects. Thoughts are believed to be soft and quiet, but these were dynamic and also vicious.

The hostility and agression within the troubled peoples' thoughts had been so worrisome and noisy as they thrashed away like bizarre antique celtic warriors, that I became more and more turned off at their attitudes and also at the technique.

I was pregnant once or twice. Most people are absolutely sure that their babies will, indeed, move their tiny selves via conduction and pressure, through the vast canal and into the new realm of babyhood. When I went into labour, the pains were monumental, and I screamed very, very loudly. Although I was relieved that labour has started, it was quite a few hours before the babys' head went beyond crowning, which is when the tiny soft top (or, fontanel) of the babys' head can be felt as it begins to exit the vagina.

My tools on hand were very little beside the stirrups separating my legs and a can of icy cold ginger ale, which, when I was a poor young person, was, in those days, somewhat of a treat. The ginger ale was such a luxury that it calmed me down- I got my strokes, took my pleasure in getting away with something I couldn't afford.

It took patience to get that little one out, each time. Because of the size of babys' head, Doctors had to cut a small slit in the wall between anus and vagina, saying that it would rip if they did not ease the birth procedure. Though it worked, I was in a great deal of pain after the birth, on both occasions.

Surgery is cutting through with finite awareness. The baby is not damaged; sometimes the parent must suffer, but it all goes away and the happy Mother can get on with life.

I must compare the attitude of these frustrated worshippers with that of a person hacking the whole procedure out, rather than using established technique for ease of exit. Since Doctors had to use forceps on one of my children, I am well aware that intellectually (or otherwise) slashing through the whole ball game does not work in every way, and that flesh and the psyche (your body mind and spirit)are always going to be a consideration. Things are not always perfectly set up so that everything works smoothly, and perhaps this is why the "short path" to investigating in ones' mind is an intellectual sword and not a treat like the can of ginger ale.

Still, to a woman, cutting through what could be a person with a sword just did not measure up to softer ways. Why not massage the bindu, I murmured sweetly to myself.

Let the bindu feel itself in other bindus! Yay! Blow on the bindu ( a really good technique) or pick it up.

It was not within my nature to think of sqeezing it because it is supposed to be a tender bubble.
Have you ever slashed through an iridescent bubble to see what was truly within it? You're not going to see much besides a lot of wet, sticky stuff...and there goes the entity that is a bindu- pop!

I wondered about all this, becasue I had travelled around and I probably got pretty radioactive climbing around on ravines and camping across Canada and the US. I discovered that this was probably the case when actual thoughts both ways, were becoming almost like weaponry. For one thing, some of we students could feel how our ancestors or theirs (in meditation) had cut through peoples heads, hands and babies, with great anger and hatred.

I have always been a tolerant person, but I can equate the feeling within my heart with the chagrine some people feel about the word "fuck". Since these people irritate me enormously, since they are always complaining about words that are just in peoples' thoughts, I have thought about getting on any bandwagon about thoughts and radioactivity, or thoughts and ancestral violence in the family.And I voted not to bother people like the speech whiners. Maybe others were not radioactive and they ahd to convert their rouge past.

I have come to peace with the concepts of "splitting the bindu", arming myself with that arcane sword of truth, or using "psychic binoculars', in the understanding of how my body and mind work together. I do not sport swords, binoculars, periscopes etc. within my body. I do not wish to arm myself with what manifests when I make an analogy; that is, radioactivity from a polluted world is hardening the dust that I breathe in from its esponged state, as it rots back through my body toward nature.

If I think I have an object in my grasp, or pressed to my ear perhaps, the radioactivity and even the empowerment that my own DNAs' nucleopeptides can give the substance, will actually take some recognizable shape within my own system.
(the answer: babies in the uterus do not need cell phones)

Neither do I allow myself, ever , to agress what I do not understand with a sword idea. I don't want to cut and strip, peel, mutilate, viciously split things away. I need to soften things with my mind, just as a deep cloud of steam softens away with sunshine and fine breezes. The ship is revealed, sparkling, and its flags waving in the sun.

I figured this out a long time ago, after the last idiotic oaf imagined his bubble of mystery in front of him/me splitting and making satisfying blood.

I had had enough. Of blood, of course, women need very little more in their line of vision than they see once per month, or after their tiny one is creatively born from them. No, we have that pre-established slit and blood look down pat, thankx yah!

I quit.

I never went back toward the arcane in meditative concepts. From then on, I ignored Zen staffs that beat one over the head and concentrated upon the finesse and quietude of Zen conceptualization.

I also studied Qabbalah, which is Jewish mysticism, and Tarot, which is involved with Qabbalah in a borderline way.

My first card in Tarot was "The Fool". It's associated letter from the Hebrew alphabet is aleph, meaning (originally oxen) and also A and the numerical letter zero.
Aleph also means or has the connotation of original breath. If a great One exists (as I believe) then original breath is in association, sometime before the butterflies mated with the strawberries and made heart beats, or original hearts.

So, I tried being the fool on the hill, day after day.

"Day after day, alone on the hill, the man with the foolish grin is keeping perfectly still.." (Beatles song)

I associated with that type of spontaneity, being an initiate with little sense. I had my little life and my books and my cards, and my lovers. But when I was alone, I had yoga breath- a type of yoga called "Pranayama". This yoga of pure and focused breathing did, actually change my life. And it was that breath of life concept; that need to soften clouds away from the iridescent surface of that bindu, so that the sky would shine through it and the soap on it would stop spinning. I just blew, in my minds' eye, or with my own breath, upon what I did not know about. These were the stars, the sun, the greatness of God.

And what I found was truly amazing. Awesome.

My breath was also connected to the original breath of the Creator, so that I saw afar what was part of the great soul that is ours within Gods' greatness.

So, I learned not to grasp, touch, cut through or to desire and to envy, but to be still and womanly about what was too big and bad.

I didn't want to create an alter me with weaponry aimed, potentially, at already disastrous circumstance.

I could go on, but to give birth is sometimes a parting with someone as well to be parted. To create is like giving birth- part with the initial components to further the construct. Give it life and part with some of your own air- breathe life into it.

In my world, (and I feel like Bluebell) there will not be war. Drop those swords and blades. Share water and air and earth and fire, and become the great gifts that are inspiring. To learn something, try quiet methods first, not bullyish and uneducated slashing.

War makes war. Giving life bears no unkindness.

Custom, Belief, Faith or Fanaticism?

2008-12-01T15:31:00.006-05:00

At times I worry considerably about peoples' perception. Whatever they have learned from their parents,peers and their social or religious leadership, some people excel and love, while a very few seem to be incapable of relating to society without feeling and expressing hatred.
I live in civilized North America, or at least my value system perceives North American life to be civilized. in India, Hindu worshippers do not conceive of the carnage of our eating habits as less than nauseating, or just plain awful, because they are far more often strictly vegetarian.
I am vegetarian myself, and I must admit that my perception dwelt upon the edge of terror when I was young, even when it was at dinner with my parents.
My family has always believed in the regular square meal, but I remember (through the nausea) having panic attacks as I watched the tearing of drumsticks, or the bloody medium rare steak dripping from their imagined fangs.

Mumbai

Recent distress in Mumbai, India tore me apart. In fact, at one point I went to sleep with a tranquilizer to get away from it, although I was seized with the notion that if I just stayed tuned, I could, somehow help.

What I could see when I first heard the news on CNN is that somehow, one of the enormous crafts of yesteryear had dislodged one of the propellor blade functions, and that this had caused tremendous pain toward some people in an ashram. Nuns?
I imagined the many terrorists abreacting in the fear that machines of mass destruction had been turned upon them.
In the meantime I learned that the ancient paths of earth to which some of these early craft have been attached and aggrandized had temporarily trapped a couple of local scientists, who were injured very seriously. In my minds eye, I seemed to hear that, in India the "Culprits" hands had been retrieved.

Of course, those who were relating, who thought they had called in the terror event through being enormously distressed, also heard that people here had suffered misfortune from the same: whatever passive and careful engineering could have been made in the deep past, it is now, after thousands of years, too large and unwieldy to work with all at once, and possibly too rich in fossil gas to be anything but impossibly lethal to the worlds' stasis.

I admit that I have worked with trapped people for years, and that in the past few years I have had distress calls from areas in space. Land masses sometimes jet into space, and we also see large masses dropping back down to earth at times.

It was a bit easier when our astronauts were mining and ecologizing meteorites, which threatened earths' surface, but I am very sure that populated areas or areas that might be in the process of being mined, underground have, actually taken off.
The result can be that a lot of people die, starve, or are grievously injured, but the universe does tend to fit everything back the way that it should be , for the most part.

What I may have perceived of one of the terrorists' thoughts, if I was correct in my understanding that this person participated, is that a man believed himself to have been held prisoner for several years, with little food, water, or proper anything.He said he had just been a photographer.

Since this also happens in a cave system close by, sometimes, it is not surprising that some people go right stark mad, in the feeling that they have been unjustly persecuted. We are not all the intellectual equivalent of St. Paul or PM. Nelson Mandela, after all.

Personally, my feeling about how people perceive when starved, partially amputated, and to add insult to injury, brain injured by normal industry without mercy (no med care available) is that I must appeal to organized religion, the press, especially, and to the more charitably persuaded realtors in the world, to better inform the public as to what can go wrong with land. No, no-one is particularly organized, and yet there have been ecologists claiming that the world has twenty years to live.

Of course, I am like everyone else. I don't believe it. I don't want our house to devalue, so that we are stranded, financially, if we want to move. I realy, really do not think that the world will die in twenty years.

My belief system does include the idea, though, that there are people who are haplessly victimized by land accidents. Fundamentaly, there has been no respect for these souls- they might emerge wrinkled, horned, winged, filthy, cockless, limbless or blind. To the superstitious and downright ugly thinkers of this world they are the condemned and those "who must have fallen through the cracks". No-one knows what this expression means any more, because there are so many people who wish their station in life to seem superior to the "fallen", of whatever nature.

There is still some simple fool who, thirty years ago, believed under the duress of being incarcerated by some gopher or rabbit that he had been "promised a woman". When I was young he used to frighten me to death. What happens to peoples' minds?

The Scriptures prove that early Judaism (in actual Hebrew) offered education and a purse to lost earth victims, whereas those who have translated what is called The New Testament offer the more "modern" words: that these victims are to be given "welfare".
The difference in connotation between these ideas is, in North America incitement to riot. Not only does having 'welfare' attract right warriors of varying states of decrepitude,but it shames people who are used to wealth into starched anality, let alone abject violence.

I say, why not start with some education for people in case anything happens. Survival education, peace work in advance, plans for lost and extant weaponry, in case insanity happens.

I also believe in offering living joys and lovin' care to the victims of land disruption, although not when their diseases have taken over to the extent that they have organized violent procedures.

Personally, I have seen peoples' ego selves knocked out of body totally by sound warfare, as well as by insect or rodent infestation. I feel that, as often as conservative thinking claims that these disorders are too easy to replicate (in order to lighten sentencing after violent crime)therefore, the public should not be made aware of these alter-states, there are twice the situations where it has occurred naturally to unsuspecting and innocent human souls, not to paid murderers.

So, please, if you ever read this- recount something of survival lore and of safety technique to the next of your friends, and pass on some sense, in case it is land disruption that caused warfare (recently) in both Israel and in Mumbai, India.

Facebook Friends?

2008-11-23T12:31:00.004-05:00

Just checking- I got to make a nifty fip on Facebook. Iwant to see whether it posts correctly:

The only thing is that it shows a string of my photos and I have to go edit the recent posts area.

You have to scroll right to see the recent photo posts, but who cares, this is all free!

Using Goooooogle Blogspot, Gooooooogle Search, Flickr.com and Facebook is like being a zillionaire!

I can post images and videos! I can research an enormous world wide library. I can see other peoples' art work, galleries, families, friends. I can witness new inventions and read free magazines like PhysOrb, aboutthe latest in science news.

I can join forums; receive sermons weekly by email, worship with others, all from my desk!

I can offer my opinion and no-one complains (for ein change).

Wonderful world we live in. We are pretty fortunate.

I'm passing a story on.... probably true.

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A modern day parable: For your most selfish students, your most spoiled friends.

There was a blind girl who hated herself because she was blind.She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend.He was always there for her.

She told her boyfriend, 'If I could only see the world, I will marry you.'

One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her. When the bandages came off, she was able to see everything, including her boyfriend.

He asked her, 'Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?' The girl looked at her boyfriend and saw that he was blind.The sight of his closed eyelids shocked her. She hadn't expected that. The thought of looking at them the rest of her lifeled her to refuse to marry him.

Her boyfriend left in tears and days later wrote a note to her saying: 'Take good care of your eyes, my dear, for before they were yours, they were mine.' This is how the human brain often works when our status changes.

Only a very few remember what life was like before, and who was always by their side in the most painful situations.

May the good light shine upon you.

2007-12-12T13:39:00.000-05:00

Fellowship

Hi,

I am trying to post a little message, although I doubt that too many people ever read it. Anyway, hi- happy times to all for Decembers' festivities!

I have posted a URL in the field link dropdown, Go to the blog on Jewfaq.org to let you know what sort of recreation I have allowed myself for the day (the 12th of Dec 07). Usually, I have no time for any of the things that I mean to do, because the work time is interrupted by the needs to housekeep, shop, answer the phone, make lunch and coffee for my husband (who works at night) and so on.

I just thought that you might find the site owners' blog quite an interesting and controvertial document. I enjoyed it quite a bit. The posting for the 11th of Decembr '07 is an article about the true spelling of Channuckah. Americans spell it Hanukah, I think. I'm confused!

I have successfully published a work about interfaith experience recently. On top of two years writing time, my edit, formatting and graphics took a hefty 10 months out of the year, believe it or not. Researching the spelling for the word Channukah took a minute or so, and I was a bit embarrassed to find out how much the English spelling had been modified. I have grade school spelling of some universal things and, like many older people , I watch the world go bye and come again, wearing noma lights and pumpkin comments on it.

I don't know - we elders are die hards about some changes- why isn't our education good enough (we inwardly feel)?
As youth, we all quoted the saying "ya can't teach an old dog new tricks". I believed that as a young person. Now, I am happy to say that I can write an online blog, do xhtml for my sites, use a digital camera and an online photos post, email friends anywhere- all because a friend believed that people of any age could learn and improve.

My friend busted his ass getting a computer purchased for us. He was terribly poor, like me. At first, he took me to the library to learn how to use Windows on the computers donated to libraries by Industry Canada. I am still grateful to them for the chance at learning. But, more to the point, I am grateful to my beloved friend and companion.

He believed in us. He pounded away with great frustration upon the new computer, while I secretly worried that a computer would explode, if I just touched it the wrong way. My friend had grown up with A.D.D. Attention Deficit Disorder.

A.D.D. is actually mostly from mercury poisoning, and it is one of three types of autism. In the aged of days (our school years) educators had not come to grips with the needs of children who suffered from ADD.

The schools' systems segregated these special children, treating them as if they were retarded.

My friend told me about his journey within his own set of statistics, and about how the teachers yelled at him, and how they insulted him, so often. I noticed the angry fanaticism with which he tried (though valiantly) to teach me about computer use. I realized that he was acting out the cruelty of his teachers in grade school.

Now that we have taken Community College courses (mine, web- his, computer repair and DOS) we were both able to see that he had way greater capabilities than educators had allowed for,or believed in, in the past. He, for instance, committed DOS and the necessities for computer setup to memory, and passed with the highest percentage of anyone who had taken that program.

He is terribly humble, and he often has to repeat and repeat efforts to untangle the meaning and use of some of these systems. But now, seven years later, he is a web site host. He hosts our various websites himself! These skills, web design included, make him a web developer ( pretty close to a computer scientist).

My Hanukah day of creativity and relaxation centre upon him, today. He has to go to work (he works as an industrial cleaner for bucks). Today I express gratefulness for the hope in his heart, and in the hearts of those educators who have cherished each of our true abilities, until they glow with purpose, and transcend into our own spiritual identity, within the great body of faith that runs and supports planet earth.

Let the candles be lit for love, for faith, for the power in each of us to believe in higher purpose. May they shine for the love of humanity, for the hope within each of us that there will always be a better road ahead.

We both (I grew up with epilepsy) are two little humble ducks. We have moderate means, and we work too hard for what little we earn. But we can still make our mark, now - as worldwide contributors to and through internet processes.

If we cannot afford to buy books, or have too little time to go to the library, we are able to reach a wealth of information offered for free on W3. I have even published my book through an Internet process (Lulu.com) Actually, I have just finished my second work- a photo arts book called Deep Purple.

I am going to light candles, trees, lanterns, and hearts (with little gifts) this year, like every year. But there is nothing deeper than the true light of determined faith in people like my beloved husband. And he claims to be an atheist?

To you, the people who feel shunned and refuted as full human beings- African Americans, Jews, des religieux, people with disabilities, Islam - to you I wish peace, joy, merriment, acceptance, and especially, the determination to succeed that comes from within your own sense of love and faith.

To all, Happy Holidays, and as Ann Landers used to say "Kwitchbitchen!" !!!

ps: If you want to read "herstory" of a journey into interfaith, here is my book site address:

Sues' Publication storefront

The First Crocus -You are the Sunshine of My Life!

2006-04-12T10:37:00.000-04:00

It isn't much, but I am breathless with anticipation, every spring. Our first and only crocus has bloomed. The crocuses that had stayed in this garden from former days were terribly spavined, when I first moved here..they were shrunken blooms, too soft and wilting, and very small. Our new, hybrid set of bulbs has been demolished by squirrels.

The wild croci have gradually improved, and now bloom almost as nicely as commercial hybrids. I found that their humble presence, as Canadian wildflowers, became my focus for so much interesting meditation, due to having photos of my garden to look at, rather than the whole picture. My crocus and lavender made me think of a romantic spring song that I have always loved. I realized that they had been there for thousands of years, recording the history of the land. I have wept with realization, and gratitude, seeing the netted bundle of lavender on an ancients' hair, seeing that these plants had probably been here for all time.

I worry that I am in the blue poodle stage ,though, - you know, the time of life when old dames have to have a row of $200.00 blue poodlles on their sill? Next month, they absolutely must buy the latest in the collection of blue poodles. Ever since I was in my twenties, I have pondered middle age with fear and loathing- would I turn into an idle blue poodle collector? Worse-would I be fat?

Never. Yoga, meditation and good diet would prevent all that. I was determined to be in ultra health, and also I would aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllllllllllllllllways be slim. Ugh. Who needed middle age. What bags they were, the ooooooold ladies on the beaches, with bulging tummies and cracked- egg too-long-in-the-saucepan varicose veins marbling their thighs. We young women sneered, hooted, chided, pleaded, dieted, and proseletyzed about slimness and vegetarian diet.

To little effect, our naiive estimate that these were all fat because they were frigid witches did not alter the ill behaviour of our elders. No, they seemed content to live in wallowing sin, it seemed.

I guess they laughed at us, if they were people like myself, and went on.

When menopause hit, I could not believe the difference in size and shape. Initially, I laughed at my bulging stomach , since my culture (yours, too , I guess) had filled me with a youth quest that was supposed to never end.

It took me about 10 years to stop giggling at how I looked. Along with the added (padded ) was my sense of humour- luckily , some insulating warmth along with the water and poundage that my tendons had called in for comfort.

I never thought I would be hit with arthritis - tendonitis, and worked hard at getting rid of it. Like it or not, even yoga, 10BX, meditation and damn good sex do not stop your body from plumping out like a pumpkin, when it needs to.

I guessed that I was very wrong, and mentally apologized to the long- dead grannies whose bags bulged with blue poodle coupons and bags of chocolates.

I have, literally prayed that I would never hit the bluepoodle stage.

I make jokes about blue poodles to my son, who has grown up with my camping about the yuckola stage of life when nothing grows but waistlines and collections of things. I swore that I would never dye my hair blue. It is still a nice auburn, I should not worry.

No, my collections of photos, post-cards, greeting cards and nice, shiny kitchen apples will have to do.

I chose to collect kitchen apples (apple-shaped kitchen things) because my little boy was always, to me, the apple of my eye. I was in danger of becoming the kinder-kitchen-kirke poplin cherry-pie whiz of the beige elite of yesteryear, I imagined. But, something about pyrex apple bakers shaped like apples, and candle apples that I could always use for various festivals, just seemed to please me.

An older and seasoned woman now, I still imagine dancing around with my tiny son in my arms, singing "You are the apple of my eye, that's why I'll always stay with you"....

It is now that my collections of flowers and photos of them have become my darlings, my brief notes to eternity. Little things. Sometimes, I just need a little gem or a potshard.

Luckily I have the internet and my web work. There is a science to scripting which has to be addressed, pretty regulary. The newness of it keeps me from entrenching myself into sentimentality, or retreating into religious esoterica.

I don't want my collections of memories and geo-adventures in horticulture to become stale and dusty like blue poodle rows. I don't want my apples to become too important. My guy buys me apple stuff, and I sell it, so I do not have a monster on my hands.

I guess the old dame stage is a quality retained by ladies of earlier times, who were not expected to work or to do much besides keep Dads' home spotless for him, so he need never worry whn battling it out at the office. All that changed, and I found I was re-designated to the list of "super-moms", or super-women, at least while I was in Toronto. A seeming impossiblity, I worked, supported the apple of my eye, and I kept the house clean, cooked, studied, took dance, yoga and therapy courses, etc.

I see all these stages in life, now, as horticultural additions to the family tree. I may be little and striving, but I will survive and pop back, a renewed record of what has been holy, a sacred soul of the lumen.

Snowed Under in Kanata April '06 Update

2006-04-04T10:12:00.000-04:00

Well, just when all enjoyed hope for the spring weather, it was inevitably, snowing this morning, and right on the crocuses.

I've decided to leave short notes, since I doubt very many people read into this blog. Though I am actually educated to the point where I may work professionally as a journalist (all it takes is second year Mass Communications) I only write a personal column once a month on my own website. I archive some of my columns, since they are still a little relevant to current debate.

The last one is "archived" in my companions articles section:

URL: http://www.northdaysimage.ca/companionarticles.html .

That article was a long and fairly serious page, based upon concern over image in mass media, and the enormous repercussions that the visual insult toward a groups' faith incurs, although only at times. It's the Feb 06 April Column link. If you ever need it, it is there, along with the delightfully fresh magic lantern image of Lord Balfour, from his youthful days as Secretary to Scotland. In purchasing magic lantern slides (which are 160 year old original photographs, developed as slides on glass) I discovered a whole new world, as I researched the early photographer, George Washington Wilson. Interesting, the photographer was a Scot, but his parents chose a name famous to Americans. Wilson had also taken a photo of Queen Victoria in her mid life, or a bit later, a find whch was quite rare. Apparently Queen Victoria was vain, and did not like photos taken of herself after she had aged. Geo Wilson must have been a most acceptable and almost familial persona to British Royalty.

I sold all of these slides to a person in Great Britain who gives actual magic lantern shows, so someone might be interested in that.

Here is a bloggers essay about the magic lantern shows of the UK . Link below:

http://misusesofliteracy.blogspot.com/2006/04/what-is-this-phantasmagoria-this.html

If you run across my image of The Rt. Hon. Balfour (his title at the time of shooting) , it is not for replication, since the rights to the use of these images should now be with the excellent British historians. I hope that most people will be decent about that. The British Historical Society only lets people use their photo images after they have filled out a form, and it looks like money is involved. This is probably why British Realty seems so expensive when shown via TV realty sales shows - the British still back up property rights and copyright ownership.

Since I have a chance to grouse on my own Blog at least, copyright values are on my mind. Probably, no-one reading this will be dishonourable about copyright, since you are the literati, and not the commercial oafs that stick around to plunder, snoop and market, but I have a big beef.

I can't prove it, but I was sure I had pirates upon both my fine art (in the early days of poor locks) and then, upon my copyright work, which is a religion testimonial about a leader of the Buddhist faith. I called my paid copyright work "Meeting Ananda Bodhi- Heavenly Enlightenment". I worked on writing , and then re-writing and editing my work for almost exactly two years, nine to five, five days a week. .....I found out how hard it was to sell a first work, even though there is an avid market for exactly this type of support for mystical teachings..... I also found out that hundreds of people were into my work, without my permission. ...........If you have ever heard politicians making jokes or earnest effort about one of my statements, let me know, please. They are probably the first of a privileged class who helped themselves (or I believe) to my paid copyright.................. This statement was a wry idea of mine. I said, in my work, that the Ministers of Canada (its ' MPs) relied so heavily and dreamily (as if a given ) on the free work of "little women" volunteers, that no wonder they chose to call themselves (and spuriously) a 'ministry'.

Then I wrote, 'so why do they not call themselves a Rabbinate or an Imamate, by the same token?'

I know that more than one person took me up on this, because I am part of the Ottawa Valley , or world think tank- a volunteer group of concerned mystics, and avid researchers, whose loose but brilliant application gives some propriety to the otherwise grungily commercial application that our government has been doling out, along with other platitudes toward the reactionary backlash that has so dishonoured our Canadian Civil Rights.

If you are not into our pooled knowledge bank, about which we are always encouraged to only think, because of the esoteric nature of some interests, and , like my sister, tend to think of spiritual union as schizophrenia (and she is adamantly distrusting of clairvoyancy or telepathy) I really don't care. Just please, think about your grotesque and constant interference into higher conversations with the babified battle cry of "I don't say fuck, etc". Most of us are not usually talking to you, especially when speaking out loud in our homes. Most of us do not have time for people who insist on challenging freedom of the press and of speech, let alone freedom of thought, all written into our constitution.

That leads me to an interesting point. I saw a commercial for Country Style Donuts last night. I forget the channel. In Toronto (Ontario) a day before, there had been a huge explosion in a coffee shop. I think it was in a Tim Hortons, but that might not have been on the news.
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What, I wonder, would the scripting for country style donuts mean, when a narrator explained that Country Style Donuts only offers medium and large coffee takeouts, so that, if you use the (and I quote) "wrong foreign language" to ask for a size of coffee, there are only two to choose from?
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I have been dismayed to find that the language phobics as well as stealth pirates have been hawking their rude commercial way into both my own private space, and my private desktop. Although there is not much I can do about these mini-minds, there have been absolute idiots listening into our basement. My example is the flake who insisted upon presenting her proof of schizophrenia- my verbalized prayer in Hebrew, on the first day of Hanukah. (When did we start spelling it Hanuka, by the way? In school, I learned this as Channukah). We are so Americanized,we might as well go ahead and only call it New Year, or Rotsa Ruach day.

Anyway, there have been nerds of nerd hill in our community who have insisted upon calling the use of "foreign" languages a case of schizophrenia,( fer Gawds' sake- what sort of little minds exist in the human world?).

I have a feeling that the coffee shop was not immune to the anti-language freaks, who have probably been pre-trimmed of their ears' capabilities from before birth by poor sound experiments in silicon valley and/or the hyper- paranoid security black marketeering. Maybe it's just the hot water they got into as children over Mommies' fear of vilis pilis, the Joose.

I find that, even though I write to Interpol about the freaks who hack into my desktop, they are still there, along with attendant health difficulties from insect toxin, disorder, and antique fibre.

The bottom line is that these people do not give a fig about others' lives. In fact, they are terrorists toward not only pc users, but our lands' stasis. Don't quote me, but it is a principle in the wind from scientists who do not want to see a whole community turn to ash from gas fire.

My case, and gripe, today, is the following:

Yesterday I made a mild spring gif, animated for a little interest, with some silk veils of purple mist. I know that kids copy our scribbled artwork, but I could loudly hear the beans who keep following me around, watching everything I did from their vantage point on the cable lineswork, or near to it. Knowing that, whatever I try, I can't get away from these ugly and violent people, I persevered, and placed my work on the net. What of it? It is just a gentle note.

What of this type of trespass, you say?

Living here in Glencairn, I witness many space events. For instance, aircraft fly overhead very regularly, and rocks project coloured light shpaes from both meteorites and ground.

Last night someone was flying very low, and I anxiously poked my head out the window to have a look at the jet, rushing north in a dark sky. Yesterday, there was a crash of a cargo plane somewhere in the states. I am used to relating to those on high, and why should I havedreamed up this theme, that I am about to mention, although in part, albeit to myself?

Someone had made their own version of my artwork, but they used something known to pilots as a pattern in aircraft engineering, and interfered with a regular passenger jet. (The rest has been perceived, I do hope, and is now --sorry to say---censored by myself---

Unless there is some conscientious effort to go out on a limb about terrorism (who can hear their plans out loud, I ask you) I have to leave a note for someone. I only gave my address to you , my relatives. If you are Marg, at least just observe, without giving in to your thoughtless paranoia, and remember that , when I had a dream in the wee small hours of the night, I hastened to telephone Eric about seeing you getting microwaved on board an airplane. There was enormous lightning as I awoke, and I felt terrified. your flight was delayed 10 hours by concerned engineers because of that call, as Eric repeated this by calling the airport. Recounting a dream probably saved your life. People like you are so cutting and narrow that lives might be lost if some of we perceptive clairvoyants are seen as having only mental illness. Enough said. If you can't accept my sense of religious faith, at least be dignified, and accept others' perception and morality as having some validity besides your own appplication.

And, whomsoever you turkeys are, deliberately trying to ground aircraft, or worse, someone will catch up with youse.

Sunday in the Garden

2005-07-10T11:57:00.000-04:00

Hi there, everyone!

I hope that all enjoyed our almost-perfect Canada Day. What a wild storm in the middle of the afternoon, though.
I was pretty pleased with the result upon the growth of my gardens' flowers- finally, enough rain.

Just about now, raspberries and blackberries are beginning to ripen- of course, right under our cedar hedges, where the raccons re-plant them, every year. Of course, I am supposed to let them flourish in a small-space garden, so racoons can live.... (wel, I love the tiny bears- I have petted several and fed them miniature marshmallows, like everyone else. In fact, I feel they have genetically imprinted as miniature marshmallows, since they are so fond of softie human food from our garbage hand. How can I tell from the tel-tale hand prints who the culprits are?

We were sort of winging it having a broken hose and a lost sprinkler. Now that I have cut the hose in two pieces, we have to get a new joining thing to re-attach the sprinkler. I have been getting by on about a minute sprinkle per day, per plant- or, a peripheral swish at maintaining developing seed. It didn't work- I planted nine packages of seed, with only three shows- the sunflowers, gypsophila and alyssum.

I am so disappointed- I planted Mexican Poppies and Carpathian Harebell seed last year. No Poppies emerged, and the three plants that I thought would be the Harebells have raised up flowering as Veronica- but in the bed-border, where short plants are supposed to grow.

I don't know what plant dealers are doing, these days. I bought a package of plant seed that some people are desperate to get rid of- Catnip (for the kitties) and this cost over three dollars, just because herbs are all the rage- designer, now, I suppose. Of course- instead of the hardy weeds that grew constantly in my fomer garden, NO catnip has shown. Etc, x several other packages of various types.

I did buy indigenous herbs plants from the Native Herb co.- my garden shall, one day have a flowering Labrador Tea. I grew up with enormous Rhododendrons in England, and I resent all the pathetic excuses for Rhododendrons and Azaleas that our Northern climate does not destroy. Every Azalea I have ever had had dies from anything it could think of!!

Our native Labrador Tea can survive Newfoundlands' harsh climate, so it should be OK in its coddled environ, here....

And Killex- the wonder weed killer!! What is going on? I bought a bottle of this last year, and sprayed every dandelion and plantain in the garden. Though the lawn lost a few of its dandelions, I have ten times the plantain populus. I had to weed out over four hundred dandelions, and have to manage a second crop plus the plantians (all hand-weeded out) this year. Besides using mean Killex on plants, I managed to hurt my hands and feet for over a week using this stuff. I have a feeling that it is not a very good product, and I am going back to organic controls. While I agree with my guy that the only way to get weeds in between cobbling is to spray them away, I don't like weed killing stuff. It kills Cosmos and other wildflowers.

I go for hardy plants, and like to feel that I am offering a mini-ecology that helps the land quite well. I grow medicinal herbs, as some of you (my friends) know. I got so specific about various medicinal gifts ,in my last garden, that I allowed Plantain as an herb in my herb garden bed. Of course, these grow enormously in clear earth, where they are unmowed.

Here , there is less garden space and squirrels. Damn the little sods! I can't plant bulbs without the tiny beings digging up and chewing every one! They also eat off every zucchini blossom as they emerge- so sunny and gorgeous. I should be enjoying the squash by now. I placed an old fish tank over the zucchini to see if it would help. What a year. I could grumble on and on....

Ian, I wonder whether you are enjoying a fine veggie garden,a s you did when you and Lynda shared a house together. Also Jan and Patti, do you have a big organic garden? I got an American Herb gardening magazine as a present, and I was so jealous over the fabulous overgrown colour possible in a California garden. So much growing time!! If only I had a large space, with at least a greenhouse!

NEWS:

My daughter-in law, Gayla Trail, is into her second printing for her new gardening book ,"You Grow Girl". She is a 31 year old web designer-researcher. I feel so proud of her. I recommend her book- I just found out why I ahd a boggy end to some of my tomatoes last year.No, I am not going to tell you -read her book!!! She offers tons of craft ideas and makes her relationship with the reader very fun!!! I have linked, here, to her website....

http://www.yougrowgirl.com

When I started this blog article, I had something to say as well as about the garden, but it is Sunday and I just plain forget, so have a happy and gentle day, yourselves....

Love from Sue

2005-06-27T10:31:00.000-04:00

Re: Kanatas and Ottawas' Recycling Dividends

Date:
Wed, 8 Jun 2005 17:28:28 -0400
Letter from Town Councillor for Kanata,Peggy Feltmate
____________________________________________________________________________________
I have permission from Mrs. Feltmate, to reprint this letter, since Kanata or Glencairn citizens might find some of these details interesting.
___________________________________________________________________________

Sue,

Thank you for your feedback.

The amount the city receives from end-users who acquire the recyclable materials the contractor ships to them, is directly used to pay Metro Waste Inc., the company who holds the current processing contract with the city for curb-side collection of these materials. Once the materials are in the possession of the end markets, there is no additional revenue to the city.

I completely agree with you that we need to be doing all we can to reduce waste going into Ottawa landfills. I was upset as well that plastic bag collection had to stop. The problem with the bag collection was that due to there being no local markets in the Ottawa region, the city was paying $100 US per tonne to have a company in China take them off our hands. While this was certainly not an ideal arrangement from an economic perspective, there was also a concern that at least some of the plastics materials may have been incinerated, or finding their way into landfills.

(nb: recently, a news item mentioned that an American company is now willing to purchase the endless plastic bags. This change shows that care and concern of our citizenry via letters and activities, can help change life for the better. I bet that you wrote Town Council, too! -ed-)

The city is also trying to encourage businesses to take steps to reduce waste from their products. A pilot program is being started in Barrhaven to look at return-to-vendor plastic bags. Two grocery stores have already signed on and others are being approached.

In the discussion around recycling we sometimes, as you point out, lose sight of the fact that recycling is a poor substitute for reducing and re-using. Where there is also an opportunity - but unfortunately all the city can do is ask the province to act - is requiring manufacturers to take more responsibility for their packaging. If The Beer Store can reuse or recycle most of its packaging, one has to wonder why the same requirements cannot be applied to other manufacturers.

(What, actually are we doing, after concerned articles from ecologists have come our way for at least 40 years? -ed-)

Sincerely,

Peggy

PS: Once I find the article, (from an old hip lifestyle magazine) I will try to offer this more accurately, but this is a tip on reducing PET, (Petro-Electric Transmission) which can cause illness and property damage, speaking of landfill content.

An ecologists' study found that house plants could absorb and reduce PET in the environment. These are Daisies, Chrysanthemums, Boston Ferns and Ficus benjaminus (the house-adapted Fig tree)

There may be plants added to this list, by now. I myself found certain compounds which snapped PET out of my electric wiring. You can't have these , or my recipe, since I gave it to the Law - people who have to work wth serious pollution problems and public safety, but one of the ingredients is good old Cedar. There are ways to cleanse our beautiful Canada.

Happy Canada Day, by the way!! Sue

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

News! New Photolog -updated June 27/05

2005-06-11T12:15:00.000-04:00

Hi to everyone!

Pat, I hope that you get some time to explore- I guess we can keep intouch with photologs, which are a little easier than sitting down to write letters.

Marg, why not start a photolog- you travel everywhere!
(Robin, why not trade photologs or BLOGS, if you don't write emails??)

Here is my new log: http://www.flickr.com/photos/risks_log2/

In my new photolog (the regular is at : http://www.northdaysimage.ca/photos.html ) I can post hundreds of shots- most of them just our tours and musings, nothing spectacular.

Still, we get to see the world from through each others' sensibilities.

The Flickr log is free, just like the Blogger Spots upon which I can publish anything I want, here.

This is its' home page: http://www.flickr.com/

To get a Blog spot, go to Google.com or .ca, and look for the word "more" above search. click that, and register, through clicking Bloggers' logo, and filling in your profile, etc.

You can also link from Flickr to your Blog, and post images from your Flickr photos directly to your Blog, if you have a lot to say.

As journalists, you should be used to these sites by now. I wonder who affords the space. It is like a miracle!!

At the moment, my digital camera will not post to the monitor, and so I am frustrated.The camera is in repair, now.

My garden is lovely, though a little dull compared to last year. I lost quite a few plants.

Brent added a front deck, and I bought a glass umbrella table for it. I painted the deck, and have been laying a path next to it, plus landscaping a sort of beach and driftwood effect into the front garden. Except for painting the last layer on the deck trim, we are done the front. What an improvement.

I will post shots of our yard when it is all in glorious bloom.... I took shots of the deck path in progress, and will post these on Flickr.

I hope that you run into my darling daughter-in-laws' fave-rave new book- "You Grow Girl" (see the photo section of this BLOG) about urban gardening and all kinds of handy tips. It is really well-made and is into its second run after only three months in publication.

here is her site link: http://www.yougrowgirl.com
her name is Gayla Trail. My sons' name is Davin Risk.
Their business site is http://www.fluffco.com

My photosite connects to both Gaylas' and my sons' exciting photo shoots. They are both really accomplished designers - photographers.

They had a gallery show of their photo work recently.

At the moment, I have renewed an interest in marketing my book, about following a radical Buddhist leader around, when I was a young woman. It's called "Meeting Ananda Bodhi- Heavenly Enlightenment".

I'm also cleaning and upgrading three of my websites, and took a week and a half off recently. It was so hot, I got a quarter of the work done that I wanted to. Oh well....

Hope to hear from you and about you via some photos or a Blog of your own,

Love from Sue

2005-03-15T10:02:00.000-05:00

Favourite Texture Brush

2005-03-11T18:47:00.000-05:00

My lovely Daughter-in-Law

Greetings!

2005-03-11T14:12:00.000-05:00

Hi,

I have a lot to thank Google.com for. Thanks, Gogle, for the space, and the opportunity to have some news posted for friends. Thank you for great surfing and for the millions of fascinating images on your image search.

I live in Glencairn, Kanata, and I am a bit of a web fanatic. My sites are about design, medicine, and I also have an art folio. (Show and Tell stuff)
My favourite endeavours are to research alternative medicines and also, my new joy- posting a Photolog every couple of months.

I ran into Art Babych last year (prestige photographer and decent-sort neighbour, fond of yardsales) and was really excited to be able to send him my photolog news as of July 2004. It is charming to run into people who are still using the net for image, and not practice at more and more esoteric ways of presenting flatter and flatter text-only files.

Anway, my news will be the regular type familial news on this blog, so it will probably exist in case old friends like Pat from the US whom I have not seen or heard of since the sixties decide to followup on the daily diary- or whatever it will be....

Love to: Ron, Ian, Lynda, Grant, Brent, Diane, Connie, Pat,Davin, Gayla, Marg, Tad, etc....