The POWER Lunch NOON US CST with The Divine Prince 08/12 by The Divine Prince | Blog Talk Radio

The POWER Lunch NOON US CST with The Divine Prince 08/12 by The Divine Prince | Blog Talk Radio

Eulogy for a Classmate.........

Rest in peace, sweet Julia. 

I regret your suffering during this lifetime.

I am especially saddened by your pain.

You were always as delicate, graceful and fleeting as a frail, yet lovely, lily of the valley.

You will be forever remembered in my mind as that young girl that I called "friend" so many years ago.

Lily of the Valley

This post is dedicated to Julia Kessler, 1954-2011

Image courtesy of Wikipedia

Stranger in a Strange Land, For What It's Worth

Increasingly, I feel like a "Stranger in a Strange Land".

The War(s)

Tea Parties

Bi-Partisan Politics

Global Warming

Greed

The Seven Deadly Sins

You Name It

... the list seems to go on forever, ad infinitum.

A world full of people who seem to be growing exponentially self-centered, greedy and downright mean.

What has happened to the collective heart of humanity?

I am sickened by the broken heart of the population.

In the current climate, if one is kind, that person is generally perceived as 'stupid'. And believe me, there are plenty of people lining up to take advantage of the poor soul who demonstrates kindness.

What happened to Love, Peace and Understanding?

I, for one, am disgusted - and I am getting very, very angry.

On a personal front, I am angry about being spoon fed lies and dishonesty by people whose authority I constantly question. 

I am angry about a few individuals stepping on a majority of people for the ultimate profit of a few.

I currently live in the state of Texas. Dallas, Texas to be exact.

I will confirm that I do not like Dallas, Texas. 

I am not heat tolerant. I am not a Southern Baptist. I am not a Republican. I do not believe that bigger is better. I am not pretentious. I do not drive an automobile that is worth more than a house.

I am indeed a "Stranger in a Strange Land".

No worries, dear Reader - I am planning my escape to a more hospitable environment.

I simply hope to live long enough to locate and inhabit that environment.

In the meantime, I sit back and watch the Governor put a law into place that mandates a physician perform and force a patient to view a sonogram of her fetus before opting for an abortion.

 I have to conform (and I do mean conform) to "rules and regulations" of two different Home Owner's Associations that have way too much power over real property. The organizations that I deal with have the ability to tell you to do anything that they please - or they have the right to put a lien on your home.

The demands of the "rules and regulations" constantly change, so the poor home owner is left with a moving target. 

Conveniently, these organizations put 'straw (wo)men' and sheeple in place to confound any questions.

I have never been able to get a straight answer.

I live in a climate of fear in my own damned house!

I am indeed very angry.

It seems that not many United States citizens understand the Constitutional Right to Privacy.

I was browsing through some old books last night and found Abbie Hoffman's Revolution for the Hell of It. No matter what those of us who are old enough to remember thought of Abbie Hoffman, I could not help but wonder what he would think of the state of the world today?

Perhaps he knew what was to come. He took his life on April 12, 1989. 

At Abbie's eulogy, Rabbi Norman Mendell reportedly said that his history of protest was 'in the Jewish prophetic tradition, which is to  
comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable'.

If everything seems like a huge, money-driven Babylon, what can one person do?

I am open to suggestions - seriously. I want to do something - anything!

I stand ready to protest.

Bring the Revolution.

Does anyone care to join their voice with mine?

I want to stand against injustice and corruption.

I want to stand up for unity, love and honesty.

What is the worst thing that can happen if I stand up to the nonsense and evil that I see? 

"They" will kill me?

To be silent is to die a million deaths.

I heard an old song today that seemed fitting: Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth", written by Steve Stills in 1967.

He had the right idea.

"For What It's Worth"

There's something happening here
What it is ain't exactly clear
There's a man with a gun over there
Telling me I got to beware

I think it's time we stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

There's battle lines being drawn
Nobody's right if everybody's wrong
Young people speaking their minds
Getting so much resistance from behind

It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

What a field-day for the heat
A thousand people in the street
Singing songs and they carrying signs
Mostly say, hooray for our side

It's time we stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
You step out of line, the man come and take you away

We better stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
You better Stop, hey, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
You better Stop, now, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down
You better Stop, children, what's that sound
Everybody look what's going down

Video courtesy of YouTube

Summer Can be a Cruel Season

I have not always been like this. 

In my youth, the word that was most used to describe me was "vivacious".

I could not wait get out of my Mother's womb. I arrived in this world four weeks early.

I wanted to experience everything, anything, all things, everywhere!

I loathed sleeping, preferring to stay awake all night. So much to do and so little time.

Not any more. As Bob Dylan wrote, "Things Have Changed".

When life's party turned into a type of wake after experiencing multiple deaths and setbacks, I started feeling a touch of melancholy in the winter months. February being the worst of it.

To my eyes, the snow's beauty has long been snuffed out. The streets are dingy. Nature appears drab and the body is worn from the cold and ice.

In a twist, a quite different and dramatic melancholy overtook me a few weeks ago.

Where I currently live, this past May, the temperature soared to the upper 90s.  As I write this post, we are now experiencing our 30th straight day of temps over 100+ degrees. 

The weather forecast for the upcoming week predicts 110+ actual degrees.

Truthfully, all I want to do is sleep. 

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

I long for a day that I can stay outside past 9:45 a.m. without feeling heat exhaustion or roasted skin. 

I do not understand this depression, irritability, frustration and helplessness. If it is Seasonal Affective Disorder, this is the wrong season. There is plenty of sun. Too much, in fact.

Perhaps this is where the idea of hell originates?

It seemed to start around the time my beloved dog died from complications of heart disease and a slight heat stroke.

The same week that I found out a favorite cousin had died. 

The same week that I learned of an old friend's death of cirrhosis.

Alcohol can be a source of comfort, even joy, but alcoholism is a special evil that I do not understand fully. And cirrhosis is not a "pretty" way to die (is there such a thing?).
When I discovered another loved one's death from cirrhosis, I was horrified to learn of the terrifying decline that cirrhosis delivers so cruelly. I had no idea of the end results of the affliction.

So, I sit alone with my monkey mind. 

Still trying to figure out the meaning of life. 

Still trying to figure out the meaning of death.

I have spent more time thinking than living!

Aha! 

No wonder I am depressed.....and it is too damned hot to drink!

Live and love today, as there is no guarantee of tomorrow.

In Love, Truth and Beauty....

This post is dedicated to Lea, Justin, Guy and Frank.

Image Courtesy of Wikipedia

A Prayer for Our Companion Animals

"For Every beast of the forest is Mine and the cattle upon a thousand hills."

"I know and am acquainted with all the birds of the mountains and the wild animals of the field are Mine and are with Me and in my Mind."

"Then the Lord showed me that Man is the custodian and caretaker of His animals while they are on the earth.........

........then they return unto Him."

Psalms 50:10-11

In Loving Memory of

Lea Lai Dai 1995-2011

The foregoing psalms were sent to me by Dr. Gloria Dodd, DVM, a kind and beautiful soul.

The First Time I Saw an Angel

My family was fortunate to have an acre of land to roam around, so my siblings and pets had plenty of room. It seemed the best of both worlds - a beautiful house, built from field stone that originated at the Abbey of St. Meinrad, plunked on this pastoral acreage amidst a city of about 160,000.

When I was in the 3rd grade, I had a German Shepherd pup named Wolf. One night, in the middle of a deep sleep (I was 8 - no insomnia at that age, instead I had somnambulism), I woke up to see a filmy white figure standing at the foot of my bed! The figure appeared to be male and it had 'arms' crossed in front of its chest with palm fronds instead of hands.

It communicated this message: "Some one is going to die".

I was so frightened that I dove under the covers and peeked to see if my ghostly friend was still apparent. He had vanished as quickly as he appeared.

The next morning, I told my Mom, who reasoned that it was a dream.

I insisted that it was not a dream! I saw it! It 'spoke' to me!

I dressed in my parochial uniform and went outside to be driven to school. As was my custom, I went to pet Wolfie goodbye, but he ran from me. 

Something was wrong! Wolf was foaming at the mouth and frantically running around that acreage.

I was distraught. For a Catholic kid, this warranted a visit to the parish Priest.

The Priest also pooed-pooed my vision and message.

When I returned home from school that day, my dog had died at the back of our house. Poor animal suffered a horrific death from strychnine poisoning.

For many years, I did not tell anyone about my visitation. I was so scared that the visitations ceased. Later in life, they returned in various forms....and they are always a warning of impending death.

Why me?

Azrael, the Angel of Death

Image Courtesy of Wikipedia

Dandelion

I am the kind of person who has stacks of books stashed all around the house, particularly the bed. I like to read many different books at one time and I jump from one to the other depending on my mood. *wink*

I have only two rules: 1). I only read non-fiction and, 2). I donate each book upon completion unless it is a must-have, reference manual.

Currently, I have about 14 books in rotation (shameful!), but there is one that I simply could not put down until I read it cover to cover: Dandelion by Catherine James.

Dandelion  is a memoir of the 1960s and 70s. That pioneering time that Ms. James certainly lived and experienced to the fullest, mainly due to amazing serendipity!

 From Catherine James official Website: www.cate11.com/

From Hollywood to Greenwich Village to England to Connecticut and back to California, this story is packed with first hand accounts of a person who knew (and was romanced by) many of the legends: Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, Jackson Browne, Mick Jagger, Jimi Hendrix, Roger Daltrey, Denny Laine .... the list goes on and on.

I loved the juicy tidbits, but Ms. James (not unlike Patti Boyd), to her considerable credit, never stoops to the dark underbelly of "kiss and tell" in a sordid, blaming way. That is an art that few authors manage when writing a memoir. This lady (again, like Patti Boyd), tells her story and always adheres to the high road, while managing to transport the reader back to a time when the world seemed, well, sweeter.

I was saddened and a bit horrified by the author's abusive childhood (shudder). What that child endured!

The book shines with the aftermath of this woman's pioneering courage and, yes, FREE SPIRIT.

Catherine James absolutely inspired me with her practical sense, her unwavering faith in the goodness of the Universe and her unfaltering courage.

My final impression upon completion of Dandelion  was that our perceived limitations are
blessings in disguise.