Salon.com – Global cooling on the brain It’s cold outside! Must mean manmade climate change is a crock. Right? By Andrew Leonard

“It is alarming how many smart people do little more than look at the weather outside and then make a decision on whether global warming is real or not.” – Andrew Leonard

A site dedicated to quotes taken in context is realclimate.com…good place to get the facts.

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In Honor of Tim Russert

I am so sad to hear of Tim Russert’s death!  What a shock and loss of a “clear” (Brokah) true voice in the news industry.  I looked forward to hearing Tim’s opinion on the political world confident that his words were not spin but real and honestly researched facts and positions.

When Russert spoke, I listened because what he had to say made sense and he offered original viewpoints that exuded indepth understanding of the subject matter and his distinct intelligence.  His integrity and character showed in his obvious respect for people he interviewed giving everyone an opportunity to speak but allowing no one off the hook when discussing difficult topics.  In politics, everything is difficult.

My condolences to his family, colleagues, and friends.  We have lost a truly monumental newsman – there is no one like Tim Russert.  God Bless you Tim!

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“Count Your Blessings”

A Josh Groban medley of lyrics made into a “found” poem written to reflect the fear and anxiety about loosing our home – of course it helps if you love Josh!  “Count your blessings” was the last advice my grandfather gave me our last night together before he died of lymphoma.  If he could count his blessings fighting cancer, I can count mine no matter what is happening in my life.
 
“Count Your Blessings…”
 
My forever Love 
Weeping
Fly me up to where you are beyond the distant star
A Secret Place
Don’t Give Up
Because you want to be heard
A Splendor in the light,
The sun on your skin, (my child)
Rest your wings my butterfly
Everybody wants to be understood
Everybody wants to be loved
I feel you all around me
Believe
It’s Now or Never
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
We were Dreamers not so long ago
Magic slipped away
Believe in what your heart is telling
Isn’t Faith believing all power can’t be seen?
Somedays we forget to look around us
Somedays we can’t see the joy that surrounds us
For tonight we pray for what we know can be –
It’s up to us to be the change
There’s so much to be thankful for
Each of us must find our truth
 
“Count you blessings”
Compiled by Mel

Fleeting Beauty Discovered

Stepping into the kitchen late last night I discovered a wonderous sight, a male Luna Moth was clinging to our screen door and seemed to glow lit only by the back porch light.  The luminesence of his bright green color, irmen fur coat surrounding his body, mauve legs, and delicate wings decorated with intricately designed eyespots took my breath away.  I’m a bit of a nature “luna – tic” anyway since I will get up in the wee hours of the morning (3:00am) and stare out at full moons, slivers of moon shimmering in winter forests, and clear warm nights of millions of stars regularly from my bathroom window.  The Luna Moth was a new and unexpected sight for me leaving me in awe again and counting my blessings yet again for making this difficult trek east for a family life adventure.   

“The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.”

I am so disgusted I had to blog my feelings.  Everyone is talking about the beating of a 91 year old gentleman and, of course, sensationalizing the video clip by showing it over and over again.  But my disgust was gut felt when I realized a whole group of people watched and didn’t even lift a finger to call for help, let alone intervene.  What would it take to be a human or show a glimmer of intelligence?  These individuals displayed a whole new level of low life.  It’s off the charts scummy.  There is no question this man is in desperate need so not wanting to get involved, or even more deplorable, not caring is evil.  As Elie Wiesel said,

Of course, indifference can be tempting — more than that, seductive. It is so much easier to look away from victims. It is so much easier to avoid such rude interruptions to our work, our dreams, our hopes. It is, after all, awkward, troublesome, to be involved in another person’s pain and despair. Yet, for the person who is indifferent, his or her neighbor are of no consequence. And, therefore, their lives are meaningless. Their hidden or even visible anguish is of no interest. Indifference reduces the other to an abstraction.”… “The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.

To all of the people responding to the video with racial slurs – you have merely placed yourself next to those who are indifferent by using such a hideous crime to vent your narrow minds equipped singularly with ignorance.  This situation is about people…if you hold such great hate that race defines your life’s confines, you are a lost soul and need to search your own heart to find the strength to realize your dreams and desires.  No one is to blame for your situation in life but you. 

Poetry to think on…

in honor of Mother  Poem A Day: from Poets.org

Academy of American Poets <poetnews@poets.org>

I found the poem to at first turn me off, not what I expected to something truly thought provoking and intriguing.  I love the last stanza especially.Mother
by Herman de Coninck
translated by Kurt Brown & Laure-Anne Bosselaar

What you do with time
is what a grandmother clock
does with it: strike twelve
and take its time doing it.
You’re the clock: time passes,
you remain. And wait.

Waiting is what happens to
a snow-covered garden,
a trunk under moss,
hope for better times
in the nineteenth century,
or words in a poem.

For poetry is about letting things
grow moldy together, like grapes
turning into wine, reality into preserves,
and hoarding words
in the cellar of yourself.

A Moment of Brilliance…

…as I was reading John Connolly’s, Dark Hollow:

“An Old Man walks through the lush August grass with wood in his arms, brushing away loose bark with a gloved hand; an old man, tall unbowed, with a halo of white hair like an ancient angel, a dog stepping slowly beside him, older, in its way, than the man himself, its grey-beard muzzle flecked with foam, its tongue lolling, its tail swinging gently through the warm evening air.  The first patches of red are showing in the trees, and the clamor of the insects has begun to subside.  The ash trees, the last to unfurl their leaves in spring, are now the first to let them fall to the ground.  Pine needles decay on the forest floor and the black berries are ripe and dense as the old man passes by , at one with the rhythms of the world around him…” 

The next paragraph describing the ax in his hands, splitting wood, and I was there wishing for when that rhythm will resonate with us as people from away learning to be of Maine.

Happy Birthday William Shakespeare!

William Shakespeare (approx. April 23)
 1564-1616 

Some of my favorite  words to live by:
“My words fly up, my thoughts remain below:
Words without thoughts never to heaven go.”

Hamlet (III, iii)

Sonnet 116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.