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A free woman's voice opens as a flower to the sun.

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“If you don’t like the weather in Texas, wait twenty minutes”

2/28/2015

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We have a saying here in Texas, that if you don’t like the weather, wait twenty minutes.

Last week we had Highs in the upper sixties, with bright, warm sunshine and blue cloudless skies. We picnicked in the sun, and photographed pelicans and geese sunning themselves at the Lake.

By Monday we had torrential rain, with grey clouds, and drizzly cold London fog. The temperature started dramatically dropping, and within hours it was below 30 degrees.

Yesterday it started snowing while I was at work. I came home to two inches of white pristine blankets on the patio and the plants. The beauty of it was evident. Virgin snow, covering all the fallen leaves, all the evidence of last week’s gardening, disguising even the most ugly corners.

We certainly have diversity in our weather here in Texas, and I thought I would use that as a theme for this week’s blog.

As a significant portion of the south central valley and Eastern states are gripped by winter storms, and blanketed by masses of snow, a couple of inches in Dallas seems insignificant. However, the site of children scraping enough snow to have  gleeful snowball fights in our neighbor’s yard, and twenty year-olds, tobogganing  down the hill near my house, reminded me that “everything is relative” to what you are used to.

Drivers panic down here when ice and freezing rain are mentioned. People call in from work because they are too petrified to drive. Everything comes to a halt.

The world becomes stifled by a compulsory restraint. We are forced to regroup.

I started thinking about how peaceful the earth is after a snow fall. How much it covers the flaws and stifles the sounds. Snow, no matter how many times you have seen it, is such a beautiful site. So perfect, so quiet, so peaceful.

I wanted to capture that peace in the context of peaceful change.
I wanted to tie it into the poetry of everyday life.
So I looked for a poem that might express that Zen-like state;
The state of being in the moment.

 I think I found it in this poem called  
Shoveling Snow with Buddha by Billy Collins

 

In the usual iconography of the temple or the local Wok
you would never see him doing such a thing,
tossing the dry snow over a mountain
of his bare, round shoulder,
his hair tied in a knot,
a model of concentration.

Sitting is more his speed, if that is the word
for what he does, or does not do.

Even the season is wrong for him.
In all his manifestations, is it not warm or slightly humid?
Is this not implied by his serene expression,
that smile so wide it wraps itself around the waist of the universe?

But here we are, working our way down the driveway,
one shovelful at a time.
We toss the light powder into the clear air.
We feel the cold mist on our faces.
And with every heave we disappear
and become lost to each other
in these sudden clouds of our own making,
these fountain-bursts of snow.

This is so much better than a sermon in church,
I say out loud, but Buddha keeps on shoveling.
This is the true religion, the religion of snow,
and sunlight and winter geese barking in the sky,
I say, but he is too busy to hear me.

He has thrown himself into shoveling snow
as if it were the purpose of existence,
as if the sign of a perfect life were a clear driveway
you could back the car down easily
and drive off into the vanities of the world
with a broken heater fan and a song on the radio.

All morning long we work side by side,
me with my commentary
and he inside his generous pocket of silence,
until the hour is nearly noon
and the snow is piled high all around us;
then, I hear him speak.

After this, he asks,
can we go inside and play cards?

Certainly, I reply, and I will heat some milk
and bring cups of hot chocolate to the table
while you shuffle the deck.
and our boots stand dripping by the door.

Aaah! says the Buddha, lifting his eyes
and leaning for a moment on his shovel
before he drives the thin blade again
deep into the glittering white snow.


Waking up to snow is like waking up to a new world.

The first fall of snow is not only an event, it is a magical event. You go to bed in one kind of a world and wake up in another quite different, and if this is not enchantment then where is it to be found?
J. B. Priestley


 Each tiny snowflake carries individual properties and symbolizes how diverse our world truly is.

 “The snowflake can serve as a beautiful symbol for human individuality. But the metaphor needn’t end there. Just as the snowflake is changed and altered by the conditions around it, we, too, are affected by what we experience on our journeys.

“Don’t be a flake,” conventional wisdom cautions. I disagree. We’re all flakes…intricate, beautiful snowflakes, continually branching out and evolving. And if the conditions aren’t right for the type of growth we desire, we can move or change them. At minimum, we can always control our own reactions to a situation. As the poet Maya Angelou put it, “I can be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it.”

Although we all start out with similar characteristics, the way we choose to grow and change—how we reach out and extend ourselves—is entirely up to us. And through that process we become as unique as a complex snowflake, each more rare and beautiful than a snow day in the desert. Not by default, but by design.”
Kitty Williams


The fall of snow reminds us of the value of our own individualism

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else
is the greatest accomplishment."
Ralph Waldo Emerson


 "Every one of us is, in the cosmic perspective, precious.
If a human disagrees with you, let him live.
In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another."
Carl Sagan


So let us enjoy the snow while it lasts, no matter how disruptive it is to our everyday lives. Be in the moment and contemplate it’s peaceful symbolism.

The future Lies before you

Like a field of fallen snow

Be careful how you tread it

For every step will show.

Anon

Have a great week!
 and remember.... wait twenty minutes......

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“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” Mark Twain

2/21/2015

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 “Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.” 

– Mark Twain


 This week, we have had two visitors; one from New Zealand, and one from Switzerland. We have cooked Vegan, and we have cooked Vegetarian. We have talked about social beliefs and typical ethnic stereotyping. We have discussed religion and politics. We have shared stories of sadness, frustration, and change. We have agreed that compromise leads to respectful tolerance.
I have always believed, and still maintain that Travel is the best education in order to secure a better future and for our survival. 
Not only are we exposed to different cultures by travel, but we are submerged into a way of life where we are obliged to behave in a respectful way. "When in Rome, do as Rome does.” 
We experience new foods, which flavor the essence of ethnicity, not just the palette. We are obliged to discover things from another perspective, and forced into a survival mode, even if it is just rushing to catch a bus.
We lose control of our rigid lives when we stray away from out safe harbor, and that opens up opportunities for us to explore, being fully immersed in a different reality.

  “The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.” – Samuel Johnson

 Without travel, we are very isolated and insular. We function within our own beliefs and safety margins. We only associate with the same people, and we tend to adopt the same beliefs. 
 Here in Texas, for example, it is amazing to me how many people assume that even though I am from a different culture, I have the same religious beliefs as them, or the same political views, and many people make assumptions that are quite offensive to me, even though they do not intend to offend.
I have to respond with tolerance, reminding them that I do not share all their views, but that does not make me a bad person. 

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only one page.”

– St. Augustine


By travelling, we open the doors to new possibilities.  It forces both the visitor and the host to reach into their core of respect, to experience differences, and find manners to cope and survive.
As a family of seven, and both my parents as teachers, we could not afford expensive holidays in hotels etc. However, we would pack up a tent, and one "diddy bag” each, and head across the channel to France in the summer. We would spend five weeks immersed in the French culture, camping in basic camp sites, eating the local foods, and doing what the locals do. We learned to play Boule in the street, speak when we were spoken to by the seniors, speak the language with our new found camping buddies, and learn about the history of France from the French perspective, instead of the English. My Mother took us to churches, where we learned about Catholicism, versus Protestantism, and we read about French Kings and Queens, and artists, and the French revolution.
We made friends for life. Friends have bonded not only my love to them, but to a country which has as much diversity as any other.
When I hear people say generalized derogatory things about "the French", I am able to say that I have not had that experience, and soften the light with which someone's ignorance is shone.

 "The use of traveling is to regulate imagination by reality, and instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are.” – Samuel Johnson

 Since I have lived in Texas, I have traveled around America, and learned that even each of the states is different culturally from each other. Each state played a different role in the American Revolution, the civil war, or the oppression of the Native Americans, or the African Americans. 
There are stereotypes for each State that start to dissolve as one travels and stirs the cultural pot.

 “One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things.” – Henry Miller

  I want to see all the wonders of the world before I die, but there are many more than seven.
I fear that with Terrorism and intolerance, there has been tremendous irreparable damage to archeological and historical treasures throughout the world. Mosques have been destroyed, museums and archives full of ancient history. Books and paintings have been burned. Ancient relics are disappearing. In order to preserve our legacy as humans, we have to find a solution to this wanton destruction and deliberate annihilation of our human heritage. 
Travel has to be one of the keys to peace. 
The art of talking and face to face communication, the sharing of food and ideas leads to the realization that people share a very special human bond. A bond that becomes very difficult to break after the communion of bread and love. 


A few weeks ago, in London, some of the Mosques had an Open day for non-Muslims. The event was a huge success! Far more successful than anyone had imagined! The Mosques offered food and drink, and an opportunity for non- Muslims to come and experience the inside of a Mosque. The Muslim congregation was able to share their weekly schedule and extracurricular activities, as well as introduce people to their beliefs in an informative way.
 People who attended ranged from elderly Christian conservatives who were curious, to families with children who just wanted to expose their children to something different. Their response was so positive, that other Mosques are planning similar events.

 “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

 So I challenge you, each of my readers.
Think about your prejudices and preconceived ideas about people and places. Make a resolution to travel more, and to expose your children to travel. Even if you are unable to travel, consider having a foreign student, or invite children to play with your kids that share different cultural backgrounds. Teach your children to respect other's beliefs even if they are not your own. Teach them to try new foods without disrespectful comments and faces. Remind them that they can make a difference to peaceful changes in the world. They are the future. In order that they are educated to take on the challenge, then travel should be an integral part of their education.

  “Travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.” – Miriam Beard

 Happy Saturday :)

 

 

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 #Come live with me and be my love

2/14/2015

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Today we celebrate Valentine’s day, so nothing quite befits this memorable occasion like a collection of Valentine’s poems.

Today is a day to celebrate love, I dedicate these ancient and timeless gems to you,

 my readers.

 Have a wonderful day, and may you see the beauty in your surroundings, the love in your hearts, and celebrate with your loved ones however pleases you most.

 I have picked these poems because they are well known, dear to my heart, and encompass the passion of loving feelings, as well as enriching the imagination. The photographs are my own, taken in spring.

 Have a wonderful and peaceful day!  



















 
Come live with me and be my love, 
And we will all the pleasures prove 
That hills and valleys, dales and fields, 
Or woods or steepy mountain yields.


And we will sit upon the rocks, 
And see the shepherds feed their flocks 
By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals.


And I will make thee beds of roses 
And a thousand fragrant posies; 
A cap of flowers and a kirtle 
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.


A gown made of the finest wool 
Which from our pretty lambs we pull; 
Fair linèd slippers for the cold, 
With buckles of the purest gold.


A belt of straw and ivy buds 
With coral clasps and amber studs: 
And if these pleasures may thee move, 
Come live with me and be my love.


The shepherd swains shall dance and sing 
For thy delight each May morning


If these delights thy mind may move, 
Then live with me and be my love.


Christopher Marlowe.       1564 - 1593.

 
O my love's like a red, red rose 
   That's newly sprung in June; 
O my love's like the melody 
   That's sweetly played in tune.


As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 
   As deep in love am I, 
And I will love thee still my dear, 
   Till a' the seas gang dry.

Till a' the seas gang dry my dear, 
   And the rocks melt wi' the sun. 
I will love thee still, my dear, 
   While the sands of life shall run.


And fare thee well, my only Love, 
   And fare thee well a while! 
And I will come again, my Love, 
   Tho' it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns 1759 - 1796


 In Praise of Beauty

Of all my loves this is the first and last 
That in the autumn of my years has grown, 
A secret fern, a violet in the grass, 
A final leaf where all the rest are gone. 
Would that I could give all and more, my life, 
My world, my thoughts, my arms, my breath, my future, 
My love eternal, endless, infinite, yet brief, 
As all loves are and hopes, though they endure. 
You are my sun and stars, my night, my day, 
My seasons, summer, winter, my sweet spring, 
My autumn song, the church in which I pray, 
My land and ocean, all that the earth can bring 
Of glory and of sustenance, all that might be divine, 
My alpha and my omega, and all that was ever mine


William Shakespeare 



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# There  is a fine line between censorship and good taste and moral responsibility

2/7/2015

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Focusing on Art for social change, I wanted to look at some of the ways that artists  express themselves to make an impact in a multicultural, ethnically diverse world, and bring about change, without necessarily provoking explosive public reaction and violence.

 One of the conclusions that I have come to in my life experience, and as a sensitive woman, is that we can make a point, however poignant, without deliberately trying to offend. That is not to say that art will never offend, but the deliberate attempt to disrespect others is a dangerous practice, and only provokes retaliation.

A good example of deliberate offensiveness was with the Charlie Hebdo cartoons, blatantly  mocking Mohammad.
Not to say that freedom of speech is not important, nor that we should not point out political or social injustice; but messages of Hate, in my opinion, fall into a different category from satire.

“There is a fine line between censorship and good taste and moral responsibility.”
Steven Spielberg

Street Art is an excellent conduit to convey political or social messages. 
Bansky is renowned as a street Artist who points the finger with satyr and humor. Images are meant to provoke thought and stimulate vision from a different perspective.
Everywhere around the world people are speaking out with art.
In Zimbabwe women express themselves in road painting to expose their dissatisfaction with the socio- political landscape.
In many countries graffiti rebel politics include messages, phrases, slogans, and images from religious and culture groups.
In Lebanon graffiti has become modern and sophisticated, with inclusive messages to unite the masses rather then divide the politics.

 

 









  









Musicians and poets of all genres have been writing songs, poems rap and music for social change, rebellion and peace since the beginning of history. There are  psalms in the bible advocating change, verses in Hinduism, war time poems, civil war songs, rock songs like Imagine, by John Lennon, the list goes on and on.. 
I illustrate my point with a few random examples:

Psalms 106:3
How blessed are those who keep justice, who practice righteousness at all times!

Verses in Arthur Veda, Hinduism
I am He. You are 
She;
 I am Song, you are verse.
 I am Heaven, you are Earth.
 We two shall here together dwell, 
becoming parents of children.


Arthur Veda 14.2.71

Yesterday we obeyed kings and bent our necks before emperors. But today we kneel only to truth, follow only beauty, and obey only love.
Khalil Gibran

 Wilfred Owen is regarded by historians as the leading poet of the First World War, known for his War poetry on the horrors of trench and gas warfare.

This classic WWI poem concerns the death of soldiers and the notification their families receive when they die.


Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing down of blinds


 
Suheir Hammad is a contemporary poet living in Brixton, New York
One of her most acclaimed poems, (below) is written as the Voice of Woman, rebelling against war.
 


What I Will
by Suheir Hammad


I will not
dance to your war
drum. I will
not lend my soul nor
my bones to your war
drum. I will
not dance to your
beating. I know that beat.
It is lifeless. I know
intimately that skin
you are hitting. It
was alive once
hunted stolen
stretched. I will
not dance to your drummed
up war. I will not pop
spin beak for you. I
will not hate for you or
even hate you. I will
not kill for you. Especially
I will not die
for you. I will not mourn
the dead with murder nor
suicide. I will not side
with you nor dance to bombs
because everyone else is
dancing. Everyone can be
wrong. Life is a right not
collateral or casual. I
will not forget where
I come from. I
will craft my own drum. Gather my beloved
near and our chanting
will be dancing. Our
humming will be drumming. I
will not be played. I
will not lend my name
nor my rhythm to your
beat. I will dance
and resist and dance and
persist and dance. This heartbeat is louder than
death. Your war drum isn’t
louder than this breath.



 This is only a short, weekly blog.
 I have much research and work ahead of me to expand my knowledge and study of other’s work, and to bring you more examples of Poetry and art for social change. 
I just wanted to stimulate your palette a little....

 For my own part, I enjoy expressing my heart felt opinions in poetry, in the hope that I might light a flame in the hearts of even one person, who could make a loving change in themselves, or in other’s lives.
No matter what your creed.
No matter what your politics.
As long as you are not cruel to your fellow man.

In the words of Khalil Gibran Lebanese poet 1883-1931

 "I love you when you bow in your mosque,
 kneel in your temple, 
 pray in your church.
 For you and I are sons of one religion,
 and it is the Spirit."

Amen to that.



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    Susan Golden

    Born, raised and educated in Cornwall, England., Sue moved to America in 1981.
    After many years of life experience, her first bookof poetry for social change, is published. Available on iBooks.
     https://itunes.apple.com/us/book/the-moon-of-compassion/id892598396?mt=11

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