tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61124336628838802072024-02-20T19:48:11.976-05:00Maitri's Notes, Quotes & Flashing Thoughts...maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.comBlogger71125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-48977282927752086422015-04-09T14:36:00.002-04:002015-04-09T14:36:46.732-04:00MAITRI LIBELLULE'S OUTSIDER ART ~ Auction for "Vesica Piscis in Bloom" Acrylic on Recycled Cardboard (Priority Mail Box)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #a64d79;">Click any of the photos to go to the auction at</span><br /><a href="http://tinyurl.com/mpmn2zu" style="color: magenta;" target="_blank"><i>Becoming An Artist At 60...</i></a></div>
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<em style="line-height: 20px;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Greetings Dear Ones,</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I want to thank you so much for attending my first auction. Due to my circumstances this is the easiest way for me to do this for now and I am excited and delighted to be here!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Above there are pictures of the front/back/signatures and title on front and back. Please message me here if you would like any other pictures or information and I will get right back to you. I am in NC on EST in the US so note the hours, usually from noon to midnight I can send things. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Colors may vary due to your monitor. I cropped the photos but did not change or enhance the colors in any way, however it looks different on my desktop/laptop/tablet and phone so the color will vary but is very close to true in every medium I have checked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The painting is on recycled cardboard, a panel/side of a Priority Mail box. It is very sturdy but slightly bendy/flexible. Please be careful. Hard bends will crease or crack painting. It is my desire to use recycled materials as often as possible. After my house burned down there were a lot of boxes getting things back in the house. I plan to cut the larger ones up and gesso them for future paintings. Some will be on canvases or cotton panels.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unless someone is very unhappy, which I would never want to be the case, I would prefer not to take returns. I almost said no returns but never say never. It is very hard for me to get to the post office. Returns will only be taken if returned in pristine condition and shipping and insurance costs, free to you but not to me, will be deducted from sale price if returned. If you are outside of the US and have paid for shipping you will have to pay again to return it. No refunds will be made until painting is returned and examined.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #a64d79;"><b>Shipping is FREE in the US only, Priority Mail with insurance.</b> </span><i style="color: #141823;">I will mail outside of the US but you will have to pay shipping, exact shipping costs/insurance only will be added to sale price.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="color: #3d85c6;">Paypal invoice is sent at close of auction.</span></b><span style="color: #141823;"> Must be paid within 24 hours or will be offered to the next bidder in line. Please be aware of this and contact me ahead of time if you forsee a problem. I may be able to work with you.</span></span></div>
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<strong><span style="background-color: #38761d; color: lime; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">PAYPAL ONLY.</span></strong></div>
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<span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong>HOW TO BID:</strong> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Please be honorable. Do not bid if you do not mean it. Your word is your bond and so is your bid. </span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bids will be taken below this note which will be pinned at the top of the "Becoming An Artist At 60" page. </span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Simply put the price in you wish to bid. Your name is already attached to anything you leave here.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Increase price above you in increments of $5. You may go to your highest bid immediately if you choose.</span></div>
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<strong><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IF YOU PREFER TO BID PRIVATELY:</span></strong></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Message me your bid directly. I will acknowledge receiving it and will put your bid on the list with "Private" after the amount. You will be notified if you win at close of auction.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><strong><span style="color: blue;">Bidding closes at noon on Sunday when I will contact winner and send Paypal invoice.</span></strong><span style="color: #141823;"> Shipped Monday unless something out of the ordinary occurs when it will be shipped asap in the next day or two.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><u>Starting bid: $50</u></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thank you so much for your interest and for your bid. I am an honest and honorable person. Please be the same in our dealings. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoXLYtfQZk6Fm7IzwBDB8gI-Pp3W8cXa5Kkb2mCOuB3B6PoP-BNt5rJ_OO6fywSSKCdHr4nVeHTtwg1db5oCyUJMHqSu6E3mMHOSiEsWw9Wgar7IQwq51kR38D_iJGxMDMXWCacvwjaH6/s1600/latteauction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoXLYtfQZk6Fm7IzwBDB8gI-Pp3W8cXa5Kkb2mCOuB3B6PoP-BNt5rJ_OO6fywSSKCdHr4nVeHTtwg1db5oCyUJMHqSu6E3mMHOSiEsWw9Wgar7IQwq51kR38D_iJGxMDMXWCacvwjaH6/s1600/latteauction.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="clear: left; float: left; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Having the morning latte at the auction! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Blessings and Love,</span></div>
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maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-49867329028644783722015-04-09T10:34:00.003-04:002015-04-10T00:45:32.160-04:00Days 2 & 3 of the #100daysofgrouptherapy project... (#the100dayproject)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Sister Mary Trinity, PTSD</b></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #141823;">"Sister Mary Trinity. Only survivor of 12 nuns in a church bombing during a meeting planned to build inter-denominational relations with other churches. She is having a crisis of faith, filled with anger, and her </span><b><span style="color: magenta;">PTSD</span></b><span style="color: #141823;"> flashbacks are so crippling she is planning to leave her convent and never return. She has been sent by her doctor to a new group therapy group for women and hopes that they can help Trinity."</span></span></span><br />
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<i><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Mallory, Anxiety Disorder</b></span></i></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #141823;">"Mallory owns an independent bookstore and coffeehouse. She loves her work but her</span><b><span style="color: magenta;"> Anxiety Disorder</span></b><span style="color: #141823;"> is getting worse and making it harder and harder to go into work or talk to customers. She decided she would go to the group therapy meeting tonight. If she didn't conquer this she'd have to sell the shop and that would break her heart..."</span></span></span></div>
maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-21170592273275530982015-04-08T21:51:00.003-04:002015-04-08T21:52:03.849-04:00"The Vesica Piscis In Bloom." Auction starts Thursday, 4/9/15<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFbI02X-aW8YdXgqO9NmqYGCj_JNPioyzc5bfaMDH3ETVftubJO27-nYaRs3ykw_1N3aW2h4cjqL9uMUzYME4wqK08rwNN9OGrz9BntkL1g-KNUjtlV7CuYZeSGqx_rWcEwVlUIm_kk2t/s1600/VesicaPiscisinBloom4.8.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFbI02X-aW8YdXgqO9NmqYGCj_JNPioyzc5bfaMDH3ETVftubJO27-nYaRs3ykw_1N3aW2h4cjqL9uMUzYME4wqK08rwNN9OGrz9BntkL1g-KNUjtlV7CuYZeSGqx_rWcEwVlUIm_kk2t/s1600/VesicaPiscisinBloom4.8.15.jpg" height="298" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: magenta; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><i>"The Vesica Piscis in Bloom." 4/8/15 <br />Acrylic on recycled cardboard <br />(Priority Mail Box panel) <br />Maitri Libellule. </i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>from tomorrow, Thursday, 4/9 at</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>noon through Sunday 4/12 at noon </i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><a href="https://www.facebook.com/BecomingAnArtistAt60" target="_blank">Becoming An Artist At 60.</a> Will be</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>shipped Priority Mail on Monday,</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>April 13. More details and pictures</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; line-height: 19.3199996948242px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><i>of the painting in process<b> <a href="https://www.facebook.com/BecomingAnArtistAt60/posts/1606700699567927" target="_blank">here</a>.</b></i></span></span></div>
maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-64011311605787778272015-04-06T21:49:00.002-04:002015-04-06T21:49:49.523-04:00Day One, Lakshmi & Sarah, and what it means when you have a loving partner to get through the hard times...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="text-align: left;">This is the 2nd picture I have done for #100daysofgrouptherapy in the #the100dayproject for </span><span style="color: magenta; font-weight: bold; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline;">Day 1</span><span style="text-align: left;">. I have to do one a day for 100 days but according to how the Muse moves there might be 2 or 3 in a day. I never know and it is better for me to produce more than none at all. Once the muse is on the move to stop the flow can end up stopping me completely, and my biggest fear going into this has been that my bipolary bits and parts would hinder me from completing the project, and of course this is just day one, but I really think I will do this.</span></div>
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SO, I am asking a HUGE favor and I feel shy and I haven't done anything like this before but I have been having a really hard time with my bipolar & other nefarious brain deets acting up, causing debilitating pain and fear and complete immobilization at times. Could you please help me by following me in this, on <b><span style="color: magenta;"><a href="https://instagram.com/maitrilibellule/" target="_blank">Instagram</a>,</span></b> and just click through and like -- if you do -- the days offering and if you are moved to leave a comment that would be divine. It is so important to me to continue on.</div>
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If you follow my main blog, <i><a href="http://www.maitrilibellule.com/" target="_blank">Maitri's Heart</a></i>, you will have read in the last couple of entries that medication changes have made me fuzzy and very tired and I've had a hard time continuing on but I am so excited about this and already I am making copious notes about where I think this project will take me beyond the 100 days. It is way too premature to discuss it but if I can get through these 100 days it could mean work that would really carry me at a time when I really need it. </div>
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In any event today is Lakshmi, one of the women in group therapy, and her partner Sarah. What is this woman about and what is her place in the group dynamic?</div>
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Lakshmi is the woman with agoraphobia. I want to use these characters to be fun and have kind of a lighthearted and delightful story -- so much of our stories with mental illness are just plain hard and sad -- and there can't help but be a little of that. But this is a story about women coming together in a group healing situation, how they all react to the situation, how each deals with her own mental health burden, how one member leaves right away and that is a story in and of itself common in therapeutic and especially group circles, but the lovely sweet thing about Lakshmi and her partner Sarah is the beauty of one partner supporting the other who is suffering, and what a difference it makes, and also how when you suffer with these things you think nobody could possibly love you, but the surprising thing is that this is not necessary true. I am seeing miracles in others lives when they suffer terribly but have a partner to help them. It is eye opening and, well, gives me hope.</div>
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So this is the first day, and on I go, and I will be eternally grateful if you can help me...</div>
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Blessings and love dearhearts, </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOt5ApNgeFZzU8vISbuvwqCMcQyhI-h1AJtj4-Ilb9_kXgL_JvxlolC3rWHl_hok6dydEYI7vix75dAp4XgxKvlgsp_Km1f6DDW2b94ouQkZQO0mCtDH542mRMkE9otpA8IWYTMxOcJ8tj/s1600/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOt5ApNgeFZzU8vISbuvwqCMcQyhI-h1AJtj4-Ilb9_kXgL_JvxlolC3rWHl_hok6dydEYI7vix75dAp4XgxKvlgsp_Km1f6DDW2b94ouQkZQO0mCtDH542mRMkE9otpA8IWYTMxOcJ8tj/s1600/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg" /></a></div>
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maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-41833859519696319262015-04-06T19:54:00.001-04:002015-04-06T19:54:02.733-04:00What I'm listening to while I am painting tonight...<div style="text-align: center;">
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Such a sad loss but such incredible talent...</div>
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I love Amy's music.</div>
maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-3501313734562346012015-04-06T19:04:00.003-04:002015-04-06T19:04:35.147-04:00Listen, Love, Dance, This Is Pure Beauty, This is JOY...<iframe frameborder="no" height="450" scrolling="no" src="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=https%3A//api.soundcloud.com/users/11057829&auto_play=false&hide_related=false&show_comments=true&show_user=true&show_reposts=false&visual=true" width="100%"></iframe>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-81467343570623399732015-04-06T01:49:00.001-04:002015-04-06T01:54:47.634-04:00Wilkie's 3rd Story Apartment ... Day 1 of #100daysofgrouptherapy in the #the100dayproject ...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCcCcUlZpBy_am5evO8piuClBEII-KXvwsJkM4iufeNJUELUnOfBKrSPKHHXLSrm7Ci_vY4THTRxPjPT0q3Mw99aFFyjtRAkPmYwIAxQ_ychQ_f5oG3OKFVWbEwuD-i_8ENpnY-ifW_9j/s1600/Wilkies3rdstoryapt4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCcCcUlZpBy_am5evO8piuClBEII-KXvwsJkM4iufeNJUELUnOfBKrSPKHHXLSrm7Ci_vY4THTRxPjPT0q3Mw99aFFyjtRAkPmYwIAxQ_ychQ_f5oG3OKFVWbEwuD-i_8ENpnY-ifW_9j/s1600/Wilkies3rdstoryapt4.jpg" height="187" width="400" /></a></div>
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I drew the kitchen in the 3rd story apartment of Wilkie, one of the Group Therapy members, at the top of the page I was working on yesterday so you see the arch. I am still doodly dooing and getting to know the women and their world. Wilkie has not left for her first group session yet and she's very nervous. She is talking to Wilbur her hedgehog about it. She hasn't left the apartment in a long time and doesn't know if she can make it out the door. Will she go? Will she stay? She has to be there in 3 hours. I really hope she goes...<br />
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Something kind of crazy occurred to me and I love it. I would really like to draw individual sections on a full size sheet of paper and during these 100 Days put them all over the cottage on the walls so I am living in their world. For example the old Hoosier cabinet in Wilkie's apartment was a lot of fun to draw and paint. Imagine her whole kitchen on a section of the wall. <i>Eeeeee,</i> I like it!<br />
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<br />maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-78973685217433896062015-04-05T19:12:00.002-04:002015-04-05T19:16:03.381-04:00#100daysofgrouptherapy in the #the100dayproject ...<div style="background-color: white; margin-bottom: 6px;">
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I am about to take part in something I am very excited about. It is a project where you pick anything you want to do for 100 consecutive days starting tomorrow, create a hashtag for it and put your hashtag with the project's hashtag on Instagram. </span><span style="color: #141823; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">I found it on Instagram via Esme Wang and here is a little sample of the Pre Game game! And DO answer if you feel inspired. My project is going to be an illustrated story of a group of women in group therapy but it will be fun.... Here</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"> is what I posted....</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"6 women are meeting for the first time today. By the end of the day one will leave. Can you tell me which one is leaving? Can you tell me who is who? Their names are Wilkie, Trinity, Mallory, Lucinda, Lakshmi and Zooey. Who is who, and who decides to leave on the first day of Group Therapy? And stay tuned because starting tomorrow their story will be told over 100 days in the <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/100daysofgrouptherapy?source=feed_text&story_id=1605650359672961" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="color: #6d84b4;">#</span><span class="_58cm">100daysofgrouptherapy</span></a> in the<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/the100dayproject?source=feed_text&story_id=1605650359672961" style="color: #3b5998; cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;"><span aria-label="hashtag" class="_58cl" style="color: #6d84b4;">#</span><span class="_58cm">the100dayproject</span></a> ."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The other picture I drew last night. It is a sample of some of the things that will show up in the story...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64RDVzM1HR5OcjrVMv6bD5FMzQtKt5ggBh2DxmKN9pfNwIGunVm0IwWPzOJPe-0JMidUHFv45v6yDANe7cT22gXxINPzYO27qZBaRTvPMOa5H265UBM0QVvRrtsSyiSxVWq-IVZKbsHKA/s1600/InteriorDrawingsForGroupTherapyproject.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi64RDVzM1HR5OcjrVMv6bD5FMzQtKt5ggBh2DxmKN9pfNwIGunVm0IwWPzOJPe-0JMidUHFv45v6yDANe7cT22gXxINPzYO27qZBaRTvPMOa5H265UBM0QVvRrtsSyiSxVWq-IVZKbsHKA/s1600/InteriorDrawingsForGroupTherapyproject.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-60895096732627854452015-04-04T22:06:00.000-04:002015-04-04T22:06:55.630-04:00I have fallen in love with Amanda Palmer...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://smile.amazon.com/Art-Asking-Learned-Worrying-People-ebook/dp/B00IRISKD6/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1428196434&sr=1-1&keywords=art+of+asking"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ceXvJRSIf448eRLDEfv304ErXI7txUIUsr2V6HPZwF48j6i8j7tTqV5MS2dtHevOjdYZXUyj1Od8bzT8Sov5DdHSVwSpH_9ctEaS3wummAMj5cK6FcOb3I73QyVznZYN5zh0ZPSGCYSG/s1600/theartofasking_image.jpg" height="320" width="211" /></a></div>
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I have slipped back into this blog with such joy, because...</div>
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I have spent so much time blogging and I spend so much time online that I just can't seem to keep up with a handwritten journals anymore which shames me no end having taught journal classes for 40 years and filled over 400 journals. Sigh...</div>
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Finally, instead of not keeping an online journal because I am pretending to myself that surely any minute I will start using the 1001 journals of every sort that I buy and never use I am just going to do what I know is going to work for me, at least for now. The journals, if they are suitable by any stretch, will be used as sketchbooks and I am going to use this blog as my journal. Not private things, I do as much of that type of writing as I am willing to share on my main blog, <i><a href="http://www.maitrilibellule.com/" target="_blank">Maitri's Heart</a></i> on my website. No, what I want to do, and what is important for me to do with 5 mental health diagnoses, is to keep track of my life and days. This will be very different than the way this blog started but it is what I need to do today and I just love this little blog. It feels like a real knockabout sort of journal, not fancy or pretty which makes it comfortable to just slap stuff in, collage it a bit, maybe art and mostly just notes as I travel through my days. It just needs to be this way, for now, so I don't lose myself and so I remember the things I want to remember. As you can see I have written a few today, these are my <i>Notes, Quotes & Flashing Thoughts</i>, this is how a mind works, any mind, mentally screwbally notwithstanding our brains are just always on the move no matter what shape they are in. I want to capture things I love, things I'm planning, books, things I am obsessed with.</div>
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I am currently obsessed with Amanda Palmer. I don't mean in a <i>creepy</i> way, no, I just seem to have gotten on the A.P. tour bus late, but I saw her <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xMj_P_6H69g" target="_blank"><i>TedTalk</i></a> and it-just-knocked-me-(and about 8 million other people)-OUT! Watch it, please, you don't want to miss it. </div>
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Then I was excited to find that she had a book of the same name coming out in autumn 2014. I bought the book for my kindle, but they had a deal to get the audible book cheaply at the same time so I bought it. I have listened to it 3x so far -- I love books read by their own authors -- but this one is so special. Every time I listen, because I move about taking care of pugs and things and miss parts which is okay because I didn't miss anything the first time, I find something else to love, something else that really helps me in my life right now, something that helps me understand my life right now, even though that's not what the book is about, but it is about living as artist among many other things and that is where I am right now. So I will get around to reading the kindle version but right now I am listening to it as if on a continuous tape loop. </div>
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THEN -- wonder of wonders -- again, last one on the tour bus and all -- I found out that Amanda is married to a writer who just delights me in a thousand directions, Neil Gaiman. I just couldn't believe it. I have been in love with him since I heard the amazing commencement speech he gave that also went viral like Amanda's Ted Talk. It is referred to as the <i>Make Good Art </i>speech and I have lost count of how many people I have shared it with and listened to it myself. Oh you DO NOT want to miss this one... <i><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ikAb-NYkseI" target="_blank">MAKE GOOD ART</a>,</i> by the adorable Neil Gaiman.</div>
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So I will end this here as it is nearly 10 p.m. and I have not eaten dinner. I am angsty and edgy tonight and I haven't been able to settle down and the kitchen is a disaster. I will get to that somewhere between tonight and tomorrow. I need to eat, and, make good art.</div>
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maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-8009045484148788382015-04-04T13:06:00.001-04:002015-04-04T14:13:35.690-04:00The seeds are here! <div style="text-align: center;">
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So what am I planting right now? (And I get the seeds online at Eden Brothers who have wholesale and even cheaper amazing prices in bulk.)</div>
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This year....</div>
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*Several types of French marigolds</div>
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* My beloved borage, always in my garden</div>
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*Delphinium (Which I long for and try every year but they don't like our heat, sigh,.,,)</div>
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*Larkspur (Very like delphins but go easier here.) </div>
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* 4 o'clocks, pastel bi color mix</div>
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* Garland Daisies</div>
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* Old fashioned hollyhocks</div>
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* Several types of sunflowers</div>
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* One of my favorites, "Mexican Sunflowers" tall but smaller than regular flowers and a gorgeous bright orange</div>
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* 1# of Heavenly Blue Morning glories (I have seeded the whole front of the property in the woodsy areas and all along the front of my house to match my front door which is sky blue. I am looking for a curtain of blue flowers to hide my front porch for shade. It gets dreadful hot here!</div>
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* An ounce of Moonflowers, same areas as morning glories</div>
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* LOTS of different types and colors of nasturtiums which I always grow a lot of. I call them my "Nasty Ladies." </div>
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*Rose Mallow</div>
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*1/2 pound of California Giant zinnias and other types</div>
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*Red Kale</div>
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*Rainbow Chard</div>
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*Sweet Basil </div>
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And I will continue to sow different seeds throughout the season, I just do a lot upfront, usually around the beginning of April, often Easter weekend, MY Holy Ritual</div>
maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-82584586827207614202015-04-04T11:17:00.000-04:002015-04-04T11:20:43.820-04:00It Is Spring...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It is the quality of the air. </div>
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It is each flower as it opens.</div>
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It is the birds on the wing and their song. </div>
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It is the Canadian Geese flying overhead, passing by until autumn falls. </div>
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It is the soft flowers and their powerful fragrance. </div>
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It is the vibrant, alive feeling all around as everything stirs, the wild ones, and our own, blood and bone. </div>
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It is Spring.</div>
maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-52647352250914829112015-04-03T19:04:00.000-04:002015-04-03T19:04:27.698-04:00Notes, Quotes & Flashing Thoughts" returns!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRsyn4EjMDwCZUwfGeUs6UEDK1tzLW8hJ0hcKLwcKSkx04Zhw_Z37umszKP0_k-cs8lt70AHE2xt6c8-HD2VDhfcxLq_YSUWrDWQo02Spk1BiVXYVec5aKDK3HMxiiGu_iRfSVhZJIza1/s1600/DaffsWhiteMugLatte3.6.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSRsyn4EjMDwCZUwfGeUs6UEDK1tzLW8hJ0hcKLwcKSkx04Zhw_Z37umszKP0_k-cs8lt70AHE2xt6c8-HD2VDhfcxLq_YSUWrDWQo02Spk1BiVXYVec5aKDK3HMxiiGu_iRfSVhZJIza1/s1600/DaffsWhiteMugLatte3.6.15.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Dearhearts,<br />
<br />
This is a blog that was very dear to my heart. I stopped it at the end of 2009 just about 3 weeks before my mother passed, and a couple of months later moved here to Dragonfly Cottage. I really loved this blog and it covered a period of time that was very different than my life today. The reason I want to resurrect it is because it was a place, and will be a place, where I can dash off thoughts without feeling the need to do a whole long blogpost. I can share my art, my morning musings over my latte's and what I have called for 30 years my "Notes, Quotes & Flashing Thoughts." I always wrote that in the cover of every journal I started and I plan to do a small book of musings with this same title.<br />
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I have started to clean up the sidebars and have eliminated almost everything, they will be redone tonight, but I thought, today, when I came across this blog that it was something I didn't want to let go of, and today, with the many things I am struggling with, often not having the energy to write a long blog post, that a morning's quick note would be a way to stay in closer touch. If you are on my mailing list you will get notices about these entries as well so you don't need to sign up for a new one.<br />
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I'm going to close here to feed the pugs, different pugs than I had when I started this blog years ago, but the pug tribe lives on, in my heart and in my home.<br />
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Blessings and Love Dearhearts. Have a beautiful weekend...<br />
<br />
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<br />maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-6628575907271447792009-11-17T22:39:00.000-05:002009-11-17T22:40:44.717-05:00This blog will be closing...<br><br />Dear Ones,<br /><br />It is with some regret but also necessary that I close 2 of my four blogs so that I am not spread too thin. My mother is about to pass in the next few days and when that happens my life is going to be drastically altered and past getting through the experience just ahead I will be moving. I will be leaving the blogs up for some time but will not be updating them, and the subject matter in those two blogs will be incorporated in the other 2 blogs.<br /><br />My other two blogs, <a href="http://www.maitrisheart.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Maitri's Heart</span></a>, and <a href="http://blog.maitrilibellule.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Life at Dragonfly Cottage</span></a> will still run on, and I hope you will visit there.<br /><br />I wish you all blessings, love and again, I thank you for your kind support.<br /><br />Maitri Libellulemaitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-70581787096380879482009-11-08T17:50:00.033-05:002009-11-08T21:17:38.454-05:00Vintage, Odd, and Just Plain Peculiar Things...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>If you like this light, come sit by me...<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span></div><span style="font-size:100%;"> <a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LlIOSR8ZIiey86YYfsdrq3ctKw13EhNaH_ZD5k6gUs_AZSdgT_UmSxbvDdqMMNhbom-MtBb-xl5NjegDiXSwHchcn4Z0fTfq0Wzzzbmw_k-Rz_gOe7bBRR3raG6sGly7MLre5RY_u9Yy/s1600-h/KitschyLamp.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 225px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0LlIOSR8ZIiey86YYfsdrq3ctKw13EhNaH_ZD5k6gUs_AZSdgT_UmSxbvDdqMMNhbom-MtBb-xl5NjegDiXSwHchcn4Z0fTfq0Wzzzbmw_k-Rz_gOe7bBRR3raG6sGly7MLre5RY_u9Yy/s400/KitschyLamp.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401869536364951554" border="0" /></a><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;">You have to be a true aficionado of the odd, the peculiar, and the just plain unimaginable to appreciate this light. I loved it dearly but finally it went the way so many things do in a house with parrots. Henry, my beloved African Grey parrot whom I lost -- oh Lord, I just looked at the calendar and my heart sank, it was one year ago to the day, sigh... -- last November, used to sit on top of his cage to play and he got too close to the lamp and would nip the bits off. Finally it lost it's magic without all of it's green and purple birds, flowers and stars intact, and more and more empty holes, and down it came, but I had it for a number of years. I bought it from a little old lady on eBay who made them to sell. I paid $5. When I got it in the mail I was so enchanted I was beside myself.<br /><br />You see the light was made of a white plastic pot turned upside down and screwed to what would have been the little tray the pot sat in. It was an ornate sort of plastic and the fixings of a lamp went inside with a hanging light cord. THEN the dear woman -- someone would have had to help her drill all of those holes -- put what look very like those little plastic pieces you would put in one of those children's "Lite Bright" sets, and they were purple and green stars, and flowers, and birds. Now, in a house full of birds that was very special! At night when it was dark I would just have that one light on and I would stare and stare at it mesmerized. Oh, I miss that light. I was bereft when a friend helping me organize things around here made me throw it out. I don't do well parting with things.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXEcQwew_64JTK5EPFHwZUyVMY8a8trVsRWrn0EI5ZMrhiLw_G19IePLIT33fqEqrRPqE1sYBPXg4ORgMOiIm6rsJLr9u7iH8UuOQaiCEbkN_xEJhvmi4gmzFn5H4ecaDherJoTgJJnyM/s1600-h/KitschyLampCloseup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 147px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEXEcQwew_64JTK5EPFHwZUyVMY8a8trVsRWrn0EI5ZMrhiLw_G19IePLIT33fqEqrRPqE1sYBPXg4ORgMOiIm6rsJLr9u7iH8UuOQaiCEbkN_xEJhvmi4gmzFn5H4ecaDherJoTgJJnyM/s400/KitschyLampCloseup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401890491921346834" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Closeup of the Magic</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Lamp.<br />The pink and</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">green circles<br />were</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">stars and flowers &</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />lots of the little green</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">ones<br />were birds. </span></span><br /><br />Then there was the most enchanting light that a little lady at a farm stand had made. She was round as a pumpkin with very pink cheeks and wiry grey hair up in a straggly bun. I wanted to squeeze her she was so adorable. She made lots of them in different colors and when I brought mine home, proud as a peacock, people were absolutely in shock that I paid money for it. I wish I had a picture.<br /><br />You see, what she did was take a ton of those clear plastic cups you buy with picnic ware, the small ones, and she put a strand of Christmas lights all bunched up in the middle and it made a huge ball with lots of those little cups connected together, the clear plastic glowing in the dark with the colored lights shimmering through. I chose one with blue lights -- it was a blue Christmas with a Christmas tree full of blue lights and strands of blue lights everywhere in my tiny cottage.<br /><br />My two lights. I think those two lights were the grandest things I'd ever seen.<br /><br />And then there are the flamingos.<br /><br />I have a flamingo hat that I have actually worn OUT to the horror of a great many people...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsW8qpeB9nTGSXJq-8rhHI7jgFge8nQINhR2zT87qycxDsuPiOJ4CZFwh9f6zefNswrF0e3NiDDYxj5GDeTMX7ZGKMZfqV42ux0WlYKn2vGxu5v02p0XaQInTH9bbPVGPnq2SVrigfyH3/s1600-h/flamingohat.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsW8qpeB9nTGSXJq-8rhHI7jgFge8nQINhR2zT87qycxDsuPiOJ4CZFwh9f6zefNswrF0e3NiDDYxj5GDeTMX7ZGKMZfqV42ux0WlYKn2vGxu5v02p0XaQInTH9bbPVGPnq2SVrigfyH3/s400/flamingohat.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401892685681584658" border="0" /></a><br />And once, just for fun, I wore a string of flamingo lights as a little joke. I thought I was hilarious. Others did not...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6i2OS9Moa_WGhFBI2IJU96dSbC-6mUM8ArGnAkQcXfhr8gWU8TXb0UD6xBc6qqDNO8pvWZzu-bA2RhZnphJ3IDoG6WJwGYpwwJan33HVKjiTafMcBI5u5mS4P7sV7zH4EnDreT-SKjpF/s1600-h/BlondeWearingFlamingos.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 334px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6i2OS9Moa_WGhFBI2IJU96dSbC-6mUM8ArGnAkQcXfhr8gWU8TXb0UD6xBc6qqDNO8pvWZzu-bA2RhZnphJ3IDoG6WJwGYpwwJan33HVKjiTafMcBI5u5mS4P7sV7zH4EnDreT-SKjpF/s400/BlondeWearingFlamingos.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401894289572467410" border="0" /></a><br />And we can't forget the flamingos on top of my refrigerator...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYpmiKNKVJTI3ei6eMzPFN7L2Ija_F3RzTBu-c6aEulfrEhwbGOc0JYTtoJo8byIFNLcwrFfglukp8WsCehQk1LP9ne0PNPwx3lpEpzcxH_TJ8UwXyfQZmqEV8x_JqU9yupQ9SoRq08xX/s1600-h/FlamingosontheFridge.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBYpmiKNKVJTI3ei6eMzPFN7L2Ija_F3RzTBu-c6aEulfrEhwbGOc0JYTtoJo8byIFNLcwrFfglukp8WsCehQk1LP9ne0PNPwx3lpEpzcxH_TJ8UwXyfQZmqEV8x_JqU9yupQ9SoRq08xX/s400/FlamingosontheFridge.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401895361751746818" border="0" /></a><br />And I have a passion for the pink plastic flamingos in the garden...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uIXWAlalGZKnMG4_Wd0qV_6a-Nyfe1ezgi-Y2R445bt5WaCnVmb581SmjhSKFv77G9ZB6MuuOn-OxdmtewqgzftpAiqvlbnrf_gZiIfBXgojan4M0XbYYwLFZqo91Dlc6lOcqwGSBRzE/s1600-h/FlamingoGardenWall.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7uIXWAlalGZKnMG4_Wd0qV_6a-Nyfe1ezgi-Y2R445bt5WaCnVmb581SmjhSKFv77G9ZB6MuuOn-OxdmtewqgzftpAiqvlbnrf_gZiIfBXgojan4M0XbYYwLFZqo91Dlc6lOcqwGSBRzE/s400/FlamingoGardenWall.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401896255750603698" border="0" /></a><br />I don't know how they got on my patio. I think they liked the antique stone mermaid. She kind of makes me swoon too. And they got into my Christmas tree the year of <span style="font-style: italic;">The Pink Christmas</span>...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzKHtqXiPvrJvjC_mhzQXqk7z64mqnoFA6XIiFQ4ercwreEqoJsDKHhdwUFltNMPFr4PwKMngbS7Jcdsw96M33vm7WXAV59avNMn1LxHEoz2_puWpC9lqQ6Zo2TbNjAlf9kiM6Rc9Fok4/s1600-h/2003PinkChristmasTreesm.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzKHtqXiPvrJvjC_mhzQXqk7z64mqnoFA6XIiFQ4ercwreEqoJsDKHhdwUFltNMPFr4PwKMngbS7Jcdsw96M33vm7WXAV59avNMn1LxHEoz2_puWpC9lqQ6Zo2TbNjAlf9kiM6Rc9Fok4/s400/2003PinkChristmasTreesm.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401897346809588562" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">A friend of mine sent me pink lights for my</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">tree and<br />I just loved them. So did the </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">flamingos and they crept<br />in and crawled</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">into the Christmas tree. I bought little </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />birds from the craft store, all different</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">types and colors,<br />the kind with wires</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">on them that were just perfect for</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">wrapping around the tree branches.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, that tree was<br />a marvel!<br /></span> </span><br />Yes, I have a passion for flamingos. Gnomes too but I'd best not go into the gnomes. We have secrets, the gnomes and I, and I'm not telling them here. Nosirree, you'll never get it out of me. We might have been arrested if the police saw us. At least it startled the neighbors who I think are afraid of me, but I think it's best that way. I say If you can't seem weird to your neighbors, or scare the hoo-ha out of them on occasion, you're probably doing something wrong.<br /><br />There are so many screwball things that I have collected over the years like vintage teapots in the shape of snails, chickens, a woman in a ball gown whose head comes off to fill the teapot and so many other things. You can see some of my teapots at <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/maitrilibellule/sets/72157600006567318/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Flickr</span></a>.<br /><br />I could go on and on, but by now you are probably either nodding off or calling someone to have me taken to the funny farm (I bet I'd have a ball there! I'd fit right in!). It's my theory that I fell down the rabbit hole with Alice and decided to stay there. I mean, really, who would ever want to leave a Cheshire Cat, a rabbit who is always late, and a Mad Hatter who gives tea parties. Yes, they would be just the kind of folks I'm comfortable with.<br /><br />Never try to be "normal." What's the point really? I never want to be normal I'd be bored to death with myself. Next time I'll tell you about my (live, cut) Christmas tree that I had for a year.<br /><br />My favorite t.v. show is coming on now and I don't want to miss it. I know you will be waiting with baited breath, but I'll get to it soon...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclGx1fe6BK86tKT3kYIFutZMs53xVeqdaAzKAAxzf4PB28_oRMRsBOP1IQqpZ1c0jnTlupZFgTrYQY3eHQ6BXDdT02LFEQHaD-xWLImW7speZW8Pn7RibI9E-I9LDAzLt_qf0S3nQfm5f/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclGx1fe6BK86tKT3kYIFutZMs53xVeqdaAzKAAxzf4PB28_oRMRsBOP1IQqpZ1c0jnTlupZFgTrYQY3eHQ6BXDdT02LFEQHaD-xWLImW7speZW8Pn7RibI9E-I9LDAzLt_qf0S3nQfm5f/s400/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401905356186291138" border="0" /></a><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-63981397560820698472009-10-31T02:13:00.009-04:002009-10-31T03:18:53.805-04:00Tiny Frog, Present Moment, Wonderful Moment...<span style="color: rgb(51, 0, 51); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" > </span><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Life can be found only in the present moment. The past is gone, the future is not yet here, and if we do not go back to ourselves in the present moment, we cannot be in touch with life."<br /></span><br />~ Thich Nhat Hanh ~<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Vietnamese Buddhist Monk<br /></span><br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTZA94nMdFCb78n0qFwps2FkL2jdxb8JB1bzVcN9m_TVbvzWWpZybI089ujpa_RDLg1d7xb0BSI9JM3hLi3L0xEN2b3wlbcz4cqjV7vQzsydFEGzM9ocgJX1BsyV7qJM9-P2pzGQx8_Ji/s1600-h/TinyFrogOneFootCropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 349px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvTZA94nMdFCb78n0qFwps2FkL2jdxb8JB1bzVcN9m_TVbvzWWpZybI089ujpa_RDLg1d7xb0BSI9JM3hLi3L0xEN2b3wlbcz4cqjV7vQzsydFEGzM9ocgJX1BsyV7qJM9-P2pzGQx8_Ji/s400/TinyFrogOneFootCropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398644655150464770" border="0" /></a><br />It was just past midnight last night. I was out on the patio as two of the dogs, Big Moe, my lab-doby mix, and Sampson, my Velcro pug, snuffled about in the grass to find just the <span style="font-style: italic;">perfect</span> spot to do their business. This is very important. Dogs are very mindful, and they were single-minded in their pursuit. It was just then that I saw a glint of bright green against the white stucco wall of the patio. I stood, barely breathing, and stared at him. I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. In each moment there is something perfect, beautiful, unimaginably tender and touching, if we are aware, and present. For a single moment I was one with him, his bright eyes locked with mine. It was perfect bliss...<br /><br />I held my breath as I slipped in the door to grab my camera, and took several pictures of him. He stood quite still as if posing for me. The camera flashed and he will be with me for all eternity in this photograph, even though moments later he jumped through the air so fast that I blinked and he was gone. I saw one flash of a tiny green leg disappear through a crack where the patio wall meets the cottage wall. Morning glories slip through this crack, and beetles, lady bugs, spiders, and the little green lizards we have in abundance here. I live in harmony with each and every one of them. These are the simple things in life that I treasure, the ephemeral things that disappear in a moment. <span style="font-style: italic;">Present Moment, Wonderful Moment</span> -- that is the title of one of Thich Nhat Hanh's books. His books are slender little volumes, his words are a whisper in the air. You hear him in your ears as you read. I have several video and audio cd's of him speaking and his voice is mesmerizingly soft and gentle. I hear his voice when I read the words in his books.<br /><br />I came in with the dogs, the tiny frog gone wherever bright green nocturnal creatures slip off into in the night, and I sat here with only one small reading lamp on, but I didn't read, I didn't turn on the computer or the t.v., no, I sat here to meditate on that miraculous moment, when one tiny little tree frog and I met, a moment that I will forget, sadly, but that one single moment will remain part of me forever.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Present Moment, Wonderful Moment</span>. I bow to Thich Nhat Hanh, in Plum Village in France where he lives, I bow to the wee little frog who disappeared into the night, I smile at the sleeping pug attached to me who is settled deep in sleep and snoring softly. I listen to the air, the soft whoosh of the Hepa air filter moving particles that sparkle in the dark. If only I were a frog I could see them. I listen to my breath go in and out, in and out. I slip into a meditative state and behind my eyelids there is a sea of bright green. I float in it, and only when I open my eyes again do I realize that it was a frog meditation, and for one single moment I was as green as my tiny visitor.<br /><br />As I was writing the above I looked down and smiled. I am wearing a soft lime green cotton caftan, the color faded with age, and on my wrist are three beaded bracelets, all green stones -- prehnite, green turquoise, aventurine, and peridot -- all powerful, healing, comforting stones for me now. It is a green time for me in my life. Green is the heart chakra color. It is a heart time for me now, as my mother, who just went on hospice faces, in peace, her final days. She talked softly today about the end, which is near, and I have never felt her more at ease. She is prepared for her passing. I wear these green stones so that my heart may be healed as she makes her final passage.<br /><br />In the last moment I spoke to her I said the prayer for her that she loves. I say it to her now every time we speak, and she loves to hear it. I first heard it in Unity Church in Roanoke, Virginia, more than two decades ago.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"The light of God surrounds you,"</span><br />I tell her, almost in a whisper...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"The love of God enfolds you,"</span><br />I can feel her relax into the moment<br />as a tear runs down my cheek...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"The power of God protects you,"</span><br />We are one spirit in this moment,<br />mother and daughter, for what may<br />be, at any time, the last moment...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"The presence of God watches over you,"</span><br />We both face toward the golden light<br />of God's presence, and the light that<br />will draw her home in the days ahead...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Wherever you are, God is, and all is well."</span><br />I feel her tender smile, I am in awe of<br />the total peace she radiates in these,<br />her final days. When we get off of the<br />phone, I say the prayer for myself,<br />that I may feel the <span style="font-style: italic;">peace that </span>passeth<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">understanding</span> when my mother crosses<br />over into the light.<br /><br />I will sit here for awhile before I go to sleep and I will close my eyes and breathe in the gift of green that the little frog brought to me, I will feel the soft green cotton against my skin, and the sparkling green beads and stones around my wrist. As I closes my eyes I feel my belly rise and fall as I become all breath, rocking gently, like a baby in her mother's arms, and pray as I get ready to turn off the light and go to sleep...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The light of God surrounds me...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Present Moment, Wonderful Moment...</span><br /><br />My heart beats in my chest, my breath slowly moves in and out, and for one singular moment I feel the <span style="font-style: italic;">peace that passeth understanding</span>, and all is well...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwb3JH2Ty1p-GlY9p701gpr1tinlagvXe6RwszYX-RfxEOBp1f28QK7UUNgkTwDqd8q5G8rXYaU5-HbuYOBansBZXzTVDgoj9SmGdqrVcjeNrj2KOXZVbK36odZT0pYAuUdwr_kEciSPK/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJwb3JH2Ty1p-GlY9p701gpr1tinlagvXe6RwszYX-RfxEOBp1f28QK7UUNgkTwDqd8q5G8rXYaU5-HbuYOBansBZXzTVDgoj9SmGdqrVcjeNrj2KOXZVbK36odZT0pYAuUdwr_kEciSPK/s320/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398657002867736322" border="0" /></a><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-21614974231733223082009-10-24T18:50:00.038-04:002009-10-25T10:53:08.047-04:00Turning Off The Computer, And Weaving The Art I Will Wear Over My Heart...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9PxHZiRUmU4Qd2lMmt8W7esvm6Rq4CMTXOrOJ4El0sojKyHlhthHRHoMpihBU1GCEdq4C0CiN7qGYyKusUJSXdOziUjAcw8lP81PbUCCMFSJVJg7-Zjy4p5j0QZkKtcOT94jhtEeov9ME/s1600-h/HealTheHeART.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9PxHZiRUmU4Qd2lMmt8W7esvm6Rq4CMTXOrOJ4El0sojKyHlhthHRHoMpihBU1GCEdq4C0CiN7qGYyKusUJSXdOziUjAcw8lP81PbUCCMFSJVJg7-Zjy4p5j0QZkKtcOT94jhtEeov9ME/s320/HealTheHeART.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396537173940542610" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday something happened to me, and I don't know why, or what caused it to happen just then, just the way it did, but I am thanking God for it today. I spend too much time on the computer, as if clinging to life itself. This afternoon I called to speak to my mother to tell her I love her, but she was not able to come to the phone and my aunt said it was a very bad day. My heart just sank. I realized that in the year ahead I will heal my heart by doing my art. I think there is no mistake that the word "art" is part of the word <span style="font-style: italic;">HeART.</span><br /><br />I use crystals and gemstones for healing. For a long time I made jewelry that I sold in my etsy store called <span style="font-style: italic;">Stone Medicine Jewelry</span>, but I no longer make jewelry to sell and my etsy store is currently on hold. I had one for a long time closed it, opened it again and had to close it immediately after selling only a few items because of my mother's cancer. I just didn't have it in me. Everything went numb. I was frozen in the middle of my own life.<br /><br />I believe very strongly in the healing power of these stones. They are energetic minerals from deep in the earth, and bring with them different kinds of power and frequencies that have been used in healing since ancient times. You needn't believe in the healing power to appreciate their beauty, but if you are interested you can look at this wonderful page, <a href="http://crystalsandjewelry.com/goodies/metaphysical/crystals/properties"><span style="font-style: italic;">Crystal and Healing Properties of Gemstones</span></a>. I keep this on my toolbar for when I'm ordering but have a vast library of books of these stones and their healing powers.<br /><br />And so I knew that I needed <a href="http://crystalsandjewelry.com/goodies/metaphysical/crystals/properties/f"><span style="font-style: italic;">Flourite</span></a>. (Scan down the page until you find this stone.) It is a very gentle healing stone, and I have had this puffy little flourite heart for some time. I have carried it with me everywhere in my purse. I always wanted it near me. I turned off my computer all afternoon on Friday and worked on this piece. It is not finished, but this will show you a little bit of my process. I will keep you posted along the way. And in the process I started writing a book that will be a year of the healing process ahead through my art, of many various types.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYC5nrW6M6ArtH70So2LL7g7UIxCtmlLpJM9xRUN2PE2e73LMFd_mFB5u85_7N6hWaUa7Dre6Y5hFXCC-97WGE95y0EzBd4VMRN2uBNFZ7RthFkcRjwCEwT6qev09bRO6RPwpWbk7XB3cH/s1600-h/MyFlouriteHeartCropped.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 237px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYC5nrW6M6ArtH70So2LL7g7UIxCtmlLpJM9xRUN2PE2e73LMFd_mFB5u85_7N6hWaUa7Dre6Y5hFXCC-97WGE95y0EzBd4VMRN2uBNFZ7RthFkcRjwCEwT6qev09bRO6RPwpWbk7XB3cH/s400/MyFlouriteHeartCropped.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396304619024975634" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Flourite heart on my wrist so you can</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />imagine the size...</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />I held this gentle precious stone in my hand for awhile and just closed my eyes and meditated. It was so soothing I almost drifted off to sleep. I think of the people who find it near quackery to believe in the healing power of these stones, and yet they believe in the flowers and herbs and plants of this earth for their healing powers, their beautiful properties. The gifts of this earth are many, and if they seem strange to some who don't understand them, that's okay, but at least, if you are a spiritual person, imagine that nothing was put on this planet without a reason. These stones have their reasons, their place. Enjoy their beauty, if nothing else. You will find that you will be drawn to certain stones for reasons you can't imagine, but don't question it, simply enjoy it. If you choose to, you can study more about these stones, and there are many books on the subject and sites to buy them inexpensively.<br /><br />This piece that I am working on will use many different techniques, among them spoolknitting, crochet, beading, and finger weaving. By the end of the piece, and when it actually turns into a long necklace, it will be quite an elaborate piece, with all the stones I need to heal my heart. The act of making the piece will be the most important healing process of all...<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhz9hs93CQYBT7s5z4YZfe6QR0RbqrK92wfqPqnKb55ECvm74EPlHHsNGTV9z-FEEF-4ORisTf41Itw9xzZlO3T_MQG8-CwkaIzdStvzq4EEJ-D8SqOoeMu1iWn4U6fXxoFS05oAgVtprs/s1600-h/StartingToSpoolknitPinkWire.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhz9hs93CQYBT7s5z4YZfe6QR0RbqrK92wfqPqnKb55ECvm74EPlHHsNGTV9z-FEEF-4ORisTf41Itw9xzZlO3T_MQG8-CwkaIzdStvzq4EEJ-D8SqOoeMu1iWn4U6fXxoFS05oAgVtprs/s320/StartingToSpoolknitPinkWire.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396305009752096594" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A Hand carved spoolknitter, a gorgeous</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">butterfly,<br />made by my dear sister-friend, </span> <a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.crone-findlay.com/">Noreen Crone-Findlay</a><span style="font-style: italic;">.<br />You have just got</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">to see her amazing work. Some time<br />back</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I showed the collection of crochet hooks</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">that<br />she handmade. I almost exclusively use </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">her tools in<br />my work. And she has several </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">other sites, a daily<br />blog, and an etsy shop, </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">but her magical main site<br />remains </span> <span style="font-style: italic;">my favorite...</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadKf7U0M_VFHOHPupKSnVOZKCby8WVAuO8TiBlOKxD7rG79WSxxzDssXRaUIitZcsG0U9VSJTlwNFmGJQRotD9uJLuTdPh0Jb4yF1EVn7QYU9TWkZbyypRhoyr1bhD4GY-XW3pmk3Xd-V/s1600-h/HeartGoesIntoSpoolknitter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjadKf7U0M_VFHOHPupKSnVOZKCby8WVAuO8TiBlOKxD7rG79WSxxzDssXRaUIitZcsG0U9VSJTlwNFmGJQRotD9uJLuTdPh0Jb4yF1EVn7QYU9TWkZbyypRhoyr1bhD4GY-XW3pmk3Xd-V/s320/HeartGoesIntoSpoolknitter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396305296966457234" border="0" /><br /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Spoolknitting with pink wire, I ease the heart</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">down into the spoolknitted section to check<br />for</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">size...</span><br /><br /><br />For those of you who have never spoolknitted it is one of the most calming artforms on the planet with endless possibilities for making things, easy to use, and you can buy them in all shapes and sizes. I have a red plastic one I bought a year or two ago at a craft shop for $2. They usually have them wherever you can buy sewing notions and supplies. In days gone by they used to be called<span style="font-style: italic;"> "Knitting Nancies."</span> Spoolknitting is also a contemplative art, very meditative, and I have spoolknitted lots of long tubular pieces using all types of materials for spoolknitting from yarn to string to twine to soft grasses, long thin strips of leather, suede, to unspun wool or strips of old clothing. Sometimes my closet is the best place to find odds and ends for my art, and what a wonderful way to recycle!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB__XYsi6NJsPzzx4l6SPPgnNqsx6OA3F1Mv275emljIYkhMBDRolC14ZLP8cyQW1rO5lPCGDN2sGcYYwpiqdFL1I2GfGWkb-9srcPBkVh4ztY43hngaVkfn5D2pKk0BOnTWOyHNSjPmN4/s1600-h/JustBeginning.jpg.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB__XYsi6NJsPzzx4l6SPPgnNqsx6OA3F1Mv275emljIYkhMBDRolC14ZLP8cyQW1rO5lPCGDN2sGcYYwpiqdFL1I2GfGWkb-9srcPBkVh4ztY43hngaVkfn5D2pKk0BOnTWOyHNSjPmN4/s320/JustBeginning.jpg.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396305722166932514" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Once the spoolknitted heart was taken off</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">of<br />the spoolknitter, I used a tiny antique</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">metal<br />crochet hook to crochet it shut. I</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">rarely ever<br />use this type of hook, but</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">each project has it's<br />own needs.</span><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgmTB_WgBxlkGrrPx1CwiNqzd4QbnRybDH0su4ZwGPiqWPksWQ6dhkCNa_OP6goiU6eDeAqSg-16gsUrR45_WzXW66yQWYG5RwDlnE9AXiYHyI9NU6qqYh2aYjUzIQ9q522zmsr8jWlf9K/s1600-h/FingerWeavingBeading.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgmTB_WgBxlkGrrPx1CwiNqzd4QbnRybDH0su4ZwGPiqWPksWQ6dhkCNa_OP6goiU6eDeAqSg-16gsUrR45_WzXW66yQWYG5RwDlnE9AXiYHyI9NU6qqYh2aYjUzIQ9q522zmsr8jWlf9K/s320/FingerWeavingBeading.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396306005756154946" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Then the really joyous work began, and this</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">will be long work and by the end of this entry</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">you will see the heart given a good start but</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">nowhere near the end! Here I am beading and</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">fingerweaving the wired and knotted beads</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">around the flourite heart in the spoolknitted</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"case." The stones I am using are flourite in</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">many colors and my favorite current stone</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">which calls to me deeply, </span><a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://crystalsandjewelry.com/goodies/metaphysical/crystals/properties/p"><span>peridot</span></a><span style="font-style: italic;">. You can</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">read more about it on that page, and much</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">more in wonderful books, and on the web,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">but it is, among other things, a heart healer.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">People think of pink as the color of the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">heart, but in chakra work, the heart's</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">color is green...</span><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim4K3SRuuH_oPfv0dWBXi57jN_WhH5fwF9GoUur5kApX8qWB4T-zLtY8o9pjRDI0-XOnG0Lqp9dBHGNDmuWOhP9NIH8QfWe1znbSHKCOMEEwWZmiu4EQMKx07NXV-g-LBg9lKqNkdYfGHa/s1600-h/HeartInHandStillInProcess.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim4K3SRuuH_oPfv0dWBXi57jN_WhH5fwF9GoUur5kApX8qWB4T-zLtY8o9pjRDI0-XOnG0Lqp9dBHGNDmuWOhP9NIH8QfWe1znbSHKCOMEEwWZmiu4EQMKx07NXV-g-LBg9lKqNkdYfGHa/s320/HeartInHandStillInProcess.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396306532023002578" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The flourite heart at it's very beginning<br />of</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">what will be a long journey...</span><br /><br /><br />For those of you like me who spend too much time on the computer, one of the most healing (and I believe truly essential, increasingly so...) activities you can do is turn off the computer and move on to other pursuits. Work in the garden, read a good book, take a nature walk, even do housework, but turn off the computer, and live your life. I plan to do this more and more. and will still be spending mornings and evenings and once in awhile spottily on the computer if I need to check on something, but I am writing my book by hand as I do my art, and it will all get moved to the computer when it is good and ready. Writing by hand is also a lovely thing, a lost art really. I am also going to start collecting long lost addresses, and put something in the mail to a friend everyday. A post card, a letter, a tiny treasure. Reviving the lost art of letter writing, believe it or not, is part of my ministry. It is connecting with real people in real time, and giving them something that they can hold onto and cherish. Something tactile, something that is not ephemeral and disappears as soon as you push a button.<br /><br />I will continue to share this journey with you as the <span style="font-style: italic;">"Healing Heart"</span> progresses, and then I will wear it as I work on the book for the next year, and when my mother passes I will be wearing it over my own heart, allowing the stones to heal me, and the work of my hands will bring me peace...<br /><br />Blessings and Love to one and all...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzI-bbkxvmKwPwv6MxCFJVRCeC-R1-8FdityxtAJNtZ4jQwcxpDnNwF23xOD-T-Ns-fH3lYeZ6NRretlaFIf8iWC9Gp5M8mJIOeQawpNbuOFzfYS1f0Y1L4dibSCa1lhB9iMkyuBhbg8v8/s1600-h/letters.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 85px; height: 70px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzI-bbkxvmKwPwv6MxCFJVRCeC-R1-8FdityxtAJNtZ4jQwcxpDnNwF23xOD-T-Ns-fH3lYeZ6NRretlaFIf8iWC9Gp5M8mJIOeQawpNbuOFzfYS1f0Y1L4dibSCa1lhB9iMkyuBhbg8v8/s400/letters.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396546016131363714" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_isEs7Oc3I1CYbEjRQwsvw5XvyAouoIqUXWxMoyKC72f13o1muFwcb7rcYy58n5DIlXcDrgmEmZVPS332sOLrDUq4AArXBpOKMEfkV8V8a0fxtOZGasa5fGWAl_aEylPeEjCRnzZWF6P/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC_isEs7Oc3I1CYbEjRQwsvw5XvyAouoIqUXWxMoyKC72f13o1muFwcb7rcYy58n5DIlXcDrgmEmZVPS332sOLrDUq4AArXBpOKMEfkV8V8a0fxtOZGasa5fGWAl_aEylPeEjCRnzZWF6P/s400/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5396544411968401682" border="0" /></a><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-52202394292977725022009-10-19T11:40:00.032-04:002009-10-19T16:06:33.537-04:00Living Your Life Backwards...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV3meOjf7FKwXbXP-vGXTo7t0ily8YXEk39By_CcFo-K_DgVsY-F0_JpIECsfn8AhsWEFB906LECSPmwgU8V7t1GQDZ6rLENB_COH4SnuRc7ztLRYbArt0OP8XiWjix0nxu7yb3UM3LPX/s1600-h/WhatYouReallyWant.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOV3meOjf7FKwXbXP-vGXTo7t0ily8YXEk39By_CcFo-K_DgVsY-F0_JpIECsfn8AhsWEFB906LECSPmwgU8V7t1GQDZ6rLENB_COH4SnuRc7ztLRYbArt0OP8XiWjix0nxu7yb3UM3LPX/s400/WhatYouReallyWant.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394336653426205058" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">"Often people attempt to live their lives backwards; they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want, so they will be happier. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then do what you need to do, in order to have what you want."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">~ Margaret Young ~</span><br /><br /><br />I live with piles of books all around me, the current ones I am reading and a number of them that I go back to for quotes or references when I am writing. I have thousands of books collected over many decades. The thing that always amazes me, and I'm sure you all have experienced this as well, is that you can read the same book ten times and each time you read it, it's almost like you are reading a different book. The book hasn't changed, <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> have.<br /><br />I have been a journal-writing teacher for over thirty years. I have seen it time and time again with now somewhere in the thousands of students, and I always told them the same thing. Some exercises, like the one I shared a few entries back, "At this very moment..." which is a standard exercise that many writing teachers use to just get the pen moving, is really not only the bedrock of our writing foundation, but a touchstone in our lives. If you were to write <span style="font-style: italic;">"At this very moment..."</span> every day for a year, and a year later go back and read all of them, you would have probably felt, before starting, that not much changed from day to day, and that overall it had been, given no extenuating circumstances beyond our control occurring, pretty much the same old, same old. What you would find would be very different.<br /><br />What you would find would be that not only does each day shift a little, over the course of a year you have shifted quite a lot. Track that over five years, over ten, and you would simply be dumbfounded. As a person who has hundreds of journals in boxes and lived very close to this process since I was a young girl, I am acutely aware of the fact that huge changes are happening over time, but as they are happening <span style="font-style: italic;">over time</span>, we don't see them or feel them, unless we encounter one of life's heart-wrenching circumstances like the death of a loved one, the loss of a child, a close friend who was like family, a divorce, loss of a job you felt would be your lifetime job when you had never thought of or prepared for anything else, unless those kinds of things happen to you, you are shape-shifting all the time, in every moment and are, for the most part, completely unaware of what is happening.<br /><br />So through these difficult days and weeks and months with my poor mother's decline stepping up it's pace every single day, it has been one of those times when someone sits down and takes stock. A time when one notices things that they hadn't stopped to look at before.<br /><br />I wrote, just last night, on my <a href="http://unimaginabledreamsmademanifest.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-style: italic;">Unimaginable Dreams Made Manifest</span></a> blog, that I was coming to the time in my life when much that I had been dreaming and hoping for all of my life was about to start happening, but that after I go over the first big hump, it will be a tremendous lot of work to do, meaning the foundation will have been laid to allow me to <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> the work, but the hardest part will begin when I finally face and have to live out the, <span style="font-style: italic;">"If only I could..."</span> Well, now I'll be able to, now I'll actually have to, and all of a sudden I was scared to death.<br /><br />And so last night I "slept on it," or rather slept on it and half way on a pug who is always attached to my person and I am either leaning against him or he is halfway on top of me. I thought about the dreams and wondered if I had done what I needed to all of these years to prepare properly for what lies ahead. I mean I'm 55 after all and while I don't consider that old, have never been worried about age, and am in good health, I am also very well aware that as the years keep marching onward (and there's been a lot of marching already...) you have less time to get things done. It's time I started.<br /><br />So, circling back around to the beginning of this piece, I found this quote, and it made me sink into my chair and take a big sigh of relief. I have done exactly what I was supposed to in her definition of what you need to do to achieve what you want, but I did not do it consciously, more to the point, and as the poet Louise <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Bogan</span> was often quoted as saying, "Let life do it." meaning that you needn't worry so much about what to do about every little detail, life will just be what it will be for you, and sweep you along downstream, and there will be a sense of momentum that comes from you know not where. So "Life did it," in the manner of my having been a mother raising and homeschooling three children and all the while, right next to them, I was writing, publishing in magazines and newspapers, I had three small presses and a rubber stamp business, I did art of all sorts and I was always doing "my work"right along with them as they did their school work. A decade ago my husband and I separated and my kids grew into their own lives and met their partners or spouses and I have spent a very hard decade both financially and trying to figure out what I was going to do, and then it came to me, I have been doing it all along.<br /><br />I had to be all of who I was because what else can you do? I lived my way forward through college, marriage, children, and onward, being the best person I could be with all of my oddities and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">idiosyncrasies</span>, trying hard not to make the mistakes my parents had but making my own instead, and all along the while I was doing what I needed to do without realizing it. What a shock to realize you might have done <span style="font-style: italic;">something</span> right, even if it was by accident. When you are a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">SAHM</span> (Stay at home mom.) you are sadly not taken seriously, although thank God I see this changing all around me, and my writing and art were thought of as "nice little hobbies" and because everyone else treated me and what I was doing that way, and even though I knew inside that they weren't just "hobbies" but my life's work, I kind of felt embarrassed and while I kept trudging on and my belief in myself was strong, I finally stopped talking a lot about it to those closest to me who pretty much just had that, "There she goes again..." attitude when I started writing another novel or small business or whatever, but I knew, as I have known these past ten years on my own, that I was, indeed, working toward something. I was doing it <span style="font-style: italic;">in order</span>, and <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> the reverse, and of course <span style="font-style: italic;">in order</span> works differently for each and every one of us.<br /><br />So here I am. I have raised my family. I am divorced and have teetered through the past decade pretty much just hoping I would survive, and I have made it through to a place where I will now have a kind of security I haven't known in my life, where decisions will be in my own hands, and I will have the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">wherewithall</span> to lead the simple, gentle little life I've always wanted, surrounded by my animals and my garden, writing and doing my art, praying and meditating and having my quiet little "barefoot ministry," wherein I can walk metaphorically barefoot through the world touching anyone I can with love and kindness, and, considering the whole world my "congregation," for lack of a better way to put it, no matter what their religion or spiritual path or none at all, I will love those I meet, pray for all and sundry, and finally be able to take myself and my work seriously because there is no one to tell me that I can't.<br /><br />I have been, all along, who I really am, warts and all, I have done, inasmuch as I've been able, to do what I've needed to do, and now I am at the the threshold I will soon cross into the life that I want and it will all have happened just exactly as it should have. I <span style="font-style: italic;">"Let life do it,"</span> even when I didn't know I was doing so.<br /><br />And so here I am, at the crossroads. I know which path I will take...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWVEpPxswDSSavxKj6rtvVoqwF0VczsJVYiRF6AC8XTKLtOdzB_eAFMjxxJPC6KkFU1UvVjHgr_bcUg6vofLfHToYN4hRn_a-UdD7DVwv7zqFwVmQUAjJ7kGokK7gzsQIoLqjL6VpBoRx/s1600-h/HandWithAriadne.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 223px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxWVEpPxswDSSavxKj6rtvVoqwF0VczsJVYiRF6AC8XTKLtOdzB_eAFMjxxJPC6KkFU1UvVjHgr_bcUg6vofLfHToYN4hRn_a-UdD7DVwv7zqFwVmQUAjJ7kGokK7gzsQIoLqjL6VpBoRx/s320/HandWithAriadne.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394403278454078402" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWv1GSTOy1fM40XfCyq5p1e3wY6Ly-S7lDQPPXi2BqqMBEJgDrIs9KxDh7spjOnE0G9gKjIiw0BDpGXQ0HX1mBuZ4EkrUSDbiE9RRJYm7LB5cb77urnN0mPhRvGM4kSCcU7AGxyxVnPrJ/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWv1GSTOy1fM40XfCyq5p1e3wY6Ly-S7lDQPPXi2BqqMBEJgDrIs9KxDh7spjOnE0G9gKjIiw0BDpGXQ0HX1mBuZ4EkrUSDbiE9RRJYm7LB5cb77urnN0mPhRvGM4kSCcU7AGxyxVnPrJ/s400/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394401878687632642" border="0" /></a><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-15367220538843167762009-10-10T15:16:00.007-04:002009-10-10T15:26:48.959-04:00Memes Gone Cattywompus...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80JLBRNKbuCIt93leqvQw1QMPvoPDIBwslGMef7JLqbGfzbP4kOad0W-D950bD5N-S8275ZIpul7L5k9mdnVLCSZOaI2JcXlNKE1VC_XT8aNdQHmlx0Mb7DE_XssQLyKcNBH2hIIq5-kR/s1600-h/WeeLittleNoteMemes.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 55px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi80JLBRNKbuCIt93leqvQw1QMPvoPDIBwslGMef7JLqbGfzbP4kOad0W-D950bD5N-S8275ZIpul7L5k9mdnVLCSZOaI2JcXlNKE1VC_XT8aNdQHmlx0Mb7DE_XssQLyKcNBH2hIIq5-kR/s400/WeeLittleNoteMemes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391052536535162338" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Dear Ones,<br /></span><br />I just wanted to let you know that I haven't forgotten about my memes, "Mysterious Monday," "Wisdom Wednesday," and "Serene Sundays," but I will not be able to do them for a little while ahead. My mother is going on hospice on Monday and her end is very near. This is, as you can imagine, a very hard time, but actually doing my blogs has been a lifesaver and helps me hold on to something. The thing is, I never know WHEN I am able to do things right now, so holding to some kind of "Gotta do it TODAY" schedule won't work for now. I do, as a matter of fact, hope to update this blog later today, but I felt I needed to put a little note here about this issue so you didn't think I'd stopped them. Those who are doing them, keep on, that would be lovely, and I will certainly be back to them when I can. The memes have gone cattywompus, and there's nothing I can do about that now.<br /><br />Thank you for your understanding...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-qQL6UDR89km18DeyNFiuiW4R8_CzL8fgxkWZ2Rg2uWhfjKxw7iRdxFeWC1H_zVw6hgUq_voIwPHt8vVOc1E3Aj8xot4825hmSoKq2fJSAfM8Elhkgrlci4O2dqAF5yjreP3kHU_Kb63/s1600-h/MaitriButterfly.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 80px; height: 58px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR-qQL6UDR89km18DeyNFiuiW4R8_CzL8fgxkWZ2Rg2uWhfjKxw7iRdxFeWC1H_zVw6hgUq_voIwPHt8vVOc1E3Aj8xot4825hmSoKq2fJSAfM8Elhkgrlci4O2dqAF5yjreP3kHU_Kb63/s400/MaitriButterfly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391053999373889698" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPcFP8B-tDueoAYhyphenhyphenObBCJIIxpwiZfiOqYLe3eIGEcYtLxcR88xhToVOT9xoOaUx2I733dT4J-T2lNliJ-gXHVdDFBpjt0VKA7Tn98NIGEwyWnscxFgs2xXJpZaqp8Dcqssl7wjQ6EEF_/s1600-h/MaitriHeartsBlueNameSz1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 94px; height: 52px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqPcFP8B-tDueoAYhyphenhyphenObBCJIIxpwiZfiOqYLe3eIGEcYtLxcR88xhToVOT9xoOaUx2I733dT4J-T2lNliJ-gXHVdDFBpjt0VKA7Tn98NIGEwyWnscxFgs2xXJpZaqp8Dcqssl7wjQ6EEF_/s400/MaitriHeartsBlueNameSz1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391054169501882258" border="0" /></a></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-44493547679943714472009-10-03T15:57:00.022-04:002009-10-03T17:13:06.816-04:00I Was Going To Let The Pugs Write Today's Entry, but...<span style="font-size:100%;"> <a style="font-family: georgia;" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5GtD_2fou6OWwCxMt7-kOyScJtCV1h10uAXw6rh9hVuTyRczc2myrdfc1RtuHvUOJWUeTkPzE-Wul-grvOPtDmDF1osiZGlrLK5iE9-bDDYtQelhSTgeLzbLKZM1ZcjTQvKXzaMCAPXN2/s1600-h/CocoAsleepOnStep_1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5GtD_2fou6OWwCxMt7-kOyScJtCV1h10uAXw6rh9hVuTyRczc2myrdfc1RtuHvUOJWUeTkPzE-Wul-grvOPtDmDF1osiZGlrLK5iE9-bDDYtQelhSTgeLzbLKZM1ZcjTQvKXzaMCAPXN2/s400/CocoAsleepOnStep_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388467011555425650" border="0" /><span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class="on" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_JustifyCenter" title="Align Center" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 11);ButtonMouseDown(this);"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Align Center" class="gl_align_center" border="0" /></span></span></a></span><div style="text-align: center;font-family:georgia;"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >I had counted on Coco, a more sensible<br />girl than some of the others, but she is<br />notsomuch a morning girl, and she hid<br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">on the stairs and went back to sleep </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />and no one could find her...<br /><br /></span><br />It's so hard to get a pug to be useful when you really need them. Oh, I might have had 2 hours sleep when they are ready to go potty first thing in the morning about 6 a.m., and they'll get me back up again at 7 to go out again and get their milkbones, by 8 to 8:30 they're up for good (or one would imagine) and they go out and then eat their breakfast. Then they go back to sleep for awhile. Then they have to go out again. Then, just when I need my latte, and think SURELY, after all I do for them, ONE of them could handle the job, nosirreebob, it just ain't gonna happen.<br /><br />I thought I might have better luck with Babs, who, though she is fourteen, blind as a bat, and deaf as a door, is like a little black Mexican jumping bean and literally hops straight up and down barking her fool head off when she wants something. Surely, I thought, I could count on Babs. But...<br /><br /><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:100%;"> </span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3S-WwlLgK4kqaVOb9TU3JjhAw1yNyIH8DyfOhkxdIT1dHY9iwIpUCgHvRFPzPlFu7VjmBdTDb9ZvE38nQTGNSNeDLyD_MCeiVaSthTrdSrlGwI92v3obY9zovARCS5wUEIbgZP-aK5iTg/s1600-h/BabsPinkLighterFace2500.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 294px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3S-WwlLgK4kqaVOb9TU3JjhAw1yNyIH8DyfOhkxdIT1dHY9iwIpUCgHvRFPzPlFu7VjmBdTDb9ZvE38nQTGNSNeDLyD_MCeiVaSthTrdSrlGwI92v3obY9zovARCS5wUEIbgZP-aK5iTg/s320/BabsPinkLighterFace2500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388471395919595922" border="0" /><br /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">She poked her head out from under the</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">covers and scowled at me and said surely</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I wasn't daft enough to ask her to do a</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">single little thing before she'd had HER </span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">latte and read the New York Times. She</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">gets the Braille edition and it takes her</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">awhile. This time is, for her, sacrosanct,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">and I should have known better. Sigh...</span><br /><br /><br />I mean truly, I did get the pugs for companionship and they were rescues that I wanted to give a loving home to, and I simply adore them, but I don't see why they can't pull their weight around here a little bit. Is that unreasonable? And then I thought, SAM, Sam the Man, my Velcro Pug, who spends 106% of the day on my person and truly adores me, unless I'm about to ask him to lend a helping paw. I started out with that voice that is dripping with honey.... "Oh Sammyyyy..." (... this was accompanied by smooching noises and that batting of eyelashes, but there's no charming a pug who doesn't want to do something, like stay awake, or help around the house...), but he only looked at me like this...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5JAJ2s7mN9QckkHHrsmDi2bAM9PwrHwu6Wmn__EUsUsfKAXqEnC6q_xQ15pM-Pshw-miRfrcCxEPibHxrD9G93qv5T8h2CW0E2CSJPhSaVT8fr9TvKoehxXeUVHUP6MwwK1m6XfuvOTT/s1600-h/SamJustIsntReadyToGetUp5.12.08.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 286px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR5JAJ2s7mN9QckkHHrsmDi2bAM9PwrHwu6Wmn__EUsUsfKAXqEnC6q_xQ15pM-Pshw-miRfrcCxEPibHxrD9G93qv5T8h2CW0E2CSJPhSaVT8fr9TvKoehxXeUVHUP6MwwK1m6XfuvOTT/s320/SamJustIsntReadyToGetUp5.12.08.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388473906610825426" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When a half awake pug, still under the covers,</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">raises his head for a millisecond and looks at</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />you like this, you might as well hang it up...</span><br /><br /><br />But then I had the GREATEST inspiration. You see, wee little Harvey, who is the youngest pug in the house at 9 years old, and was here one year in September (the others had been here two years by then), is the sweetest little pug of them all. He is a little timid and shy, but he so wants to please that he will do just about ANYTHING for you. "Yessirree, that's the ticket!" I thought, I'll ask Harvey. He'll probably want to make my latte first, and then let me get settled in comfortably while he goes over to the computer and writes the morning blog entry, but, much to my shock and dismay, I found him looking like this...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEM9KTpPUOXvO4GW-AQqYw3pXpB91YdZyTDyVcZhurAN4FRj46AdG6xZ9lNFMu3azsVZ6VYyEcbgUfiAq98n8UJhw9P6sCgF1F33D-fFs7LWxIu2dJ2BhlN0RWvHYl9F17Hn_Rp3NQwz_/s1600-h/HarveysHardLife.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 374px; height: 207px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUEM9KTpPUOXvO4GW-AQqYw3pXpB91YdZyTDyVcZhurAN4FRj46AdG6xZ9lNFMu3azsVZ6VYyEcbgUfiAq98n8UJhw9P6sCgF1F33D-fFs7LWxIu2dJ2BhlN0RWvHYl9F17Hn_Rp3NQwz_/s320/HarveysHardLife.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388473447291515778" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Cripes, he's been here too long and the others have</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">gotten to him. Another one bites the dust...</span><br /><br /><br />I'd rescue a few more but Pug Rescue won't let me. They know I'd have a herd of pugs around here if I could. They cut me off at four. (I thought that was a dirty deal, but I did get tired of Big Dog Moe always trying to eat the newest pug and me having to go all <span style="font-style: italic;">Dog Whisperer</span> on him when he's been my boy for 15 years, since a wee tiny puppy from the Humane Society.) He and the pugs look like "The Jolly Black Giant and The Little Niblets," and they sure looked tasty to him, kind of like chicken nuggets I think. And Moe is just useless. I learned long ago that if I asked Moe to do anything he just flopped down, rolled over on his back, paws in the air, looking for all the world like "The Most Submissive Dog In The Universe," and then I don't have the heart to bother him. He's got my number, they all have.<br /><br />I went back to Coco and thought maybe I'd use a little reverse psychology on her. I told her that if she got up and moved around a little, they wouldn't call her a <span style="font-style: italic;">"Stylish Stout," </span>at the groomers, but she looked at me and it was all too clear what she was thinking. She looked me up and down, and mumbled under her breath, "Well, <span style="font-style: italic;">you're</span> not even stylish," and the implication was all too clear. Stout but not stylish. I thought that was rude.<br /><br />So I would have written this entry but I got so tired looking at all of them that I went back to sleep, fiber work all over Sam and the chair and I, and if I ever get my latte it might be some time next year. Right now I think (yawn) I'll just maybe (yyaaawwwnnnn) rest my eyes for a minute and then get up and make my latte and write an entry here, but for now.... (....zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...)...<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFrOrYgXLEJL791xO0NaB_xbIkUYKJx4FO8_DVjooHAAEj7qxyYDj1-72rrrMvjuYe7makwtLCqCdKG8MVHP7x4fD5GhY5el4rhDlqlsto5jR_shPa2CYVN-1swZjLWNcwi324QDTs1gb/s1600-h/MamaSampsonWornOut10.19.07_1.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIFrOrYgXLEJL791xO0NaB_xbIkUYKJx4FO8_DVjooHAAEj7qxyYDj1-72rrrMvjuYe7makwtLCqCdKG8MVHP7x4fD5GhY5el4rhDlqlsto5jR_shPa2CYVN-1swZjLWNcwi324QDTs1gb/s320/MamaSampsonWornOut10.19.07_1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388478910286070450" border="0" /></a><br />.......... zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ..........<br /><br /><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-54338267124323988982009-10-02T14:43:00.019-04:002009-10-20T09:34:54.822-04:00Mind and Matter and Being ... YOU!<br><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >“</span><span style="font-size:130%;">Be who you are and say what you feel because those who</span><span class="sqq" style=";font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;" class="sqq"> mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.</span><span style="font-style: italic;">”<br /><br />~ Dr. Seuss ~</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvX5xpqFrUHAWaEyyaaY2pllmN4PBl_YG1c7-KbHZfbhgZKjhD8CvwOit4oZ4ewBIz6jIqUiPYPg8lCvdwEwuzALJlnGYVOgS7RTDPtCdQBzD0UUdUBum_Za_kqpxmRW_QdHLG62JFN5A/s1600-h/MadWildGloriousMaitri1024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 142px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVvX5xpqFrUHAWaEyyaaY2pllmN4PBl_YG1c7-KbHZfbhgZKjhD8CvwOit4oZ4ewBIz6jIqUiPYPg8lCvdwEwuzALJlnGYVOgS7RTDPtCdQBzD0UUdUBum_Za_kqpxmRW_QdHLG62JFN5A/s400/MadWildGloriousMaitri1024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388096596548300450" border="0" /><br /></a><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-size:100%;" >Click on the above image to see a larger size. Put on<br />your sunglasses. Squint a little. Take an aspirin. It's<br />just GLORIOUS!!!</span><br /></span></div><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" ><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Are you afraid to be all of who you are?<br /><br />Don't be.<br /><br />Are you so much wilder and magical than you'd want people to know because you'de be afraid that they would think you were loony. BE LOONY! WEAR IT LOUD AND PROUD.<br /><br />Are you </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >different</span><span style="font-size:130%;">? THANK GOD!<br /><br />Are you 50+ years old and you still love Play-doh and blowing bubbles and swinging on swings and do just LOVE being peculiar, but you only let your full self shine behind closed doors? THROW OPEN THE DOORS, RUN OUTSIDE, PUT YOUR FLAMINGO HAT ON, AND GET JIGGY WIT IT.<br /><br />It doesn't matter what or who or why you are, just live it all, live it fully, admit everything, hide nothing, celebrate everything, and remember...<br /><br /></span><span class="sqq" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;" class="sqq">"... those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind</span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">."</span><br /><br />Isn't that something? What are you waiting for? I'm going to go to fax some things now and mail a thing or two and leave the pugs and parrots and big Moe home alone for a few minutes and, yes, I'll admit it, I let them watch </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >The Home Shopping Network</span><span style="font-size:130%;"> while I'm gone. It's okay, I cut up their credit cards a long time ago, but they still call in and try to buy things with </span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >Monopoly</span> money. It never works but they never get discouraged. I just love that.<span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br />I talk really well with animals, but clam up around people who often scare me.<br /><br />It's okay, everyone knows, by this time, that I am so odd, they either join in the fun or run for their lives. Here, have a flamingo hat. Let's do the rhumba. Let's listen to Petey the macaw who snores like the pugs.<br /><br />I grow African violets bigger than anyone has ever seen. They think I'm magic. I am.<br /><br />I've got to go now. I've got to get my flamingo hat now, and my playdoh bracelets and my pink boa and my clunky lime green Crocs. You know, they just love me at the Post Office...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSR16wAhK45bl4HyfcqTLbOpbXg6gdIUj6YIvEV7zxkYIUsqHarPuX8F_HsOU-Ingf1z5IrJRw7SVVzvacMLk6PQXGvljqGxV22ZzOivXZj9rIpp8QYZRSko7AT9Rir3C4YGNapccBOZ8P/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSR16wAhK45bl4HyfcqTLbOpbXg6gdIUj6YIvEV7zxkYIUsqHarPuX8F_HsOU-Ingf1z5IrJRw7SVVzvacMLk6PQXGvljqGxV22ZzOivXZj9rIpp8QYZRSko7AT9Rir3C4YGNapccBOZ8P/s320/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5388100728333685378" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153); font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" >... skipping out the door with glee...<br /><br /></span></span></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-29469794599647850202009-09-30T22:38:00.010-04:002009-10-01T14:16:56.124-04:00Feeling Very Quiet, Very Soft, Very Small, Serene, Calm, Still...<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmS2diVfFZ5W3rIitWAOuGEz3IEOVrI2UnTN0vQPQQVeM0DoRyH4xCbtMwavfO_7wCUdY_o-sItNsYFH0xfRy9AyY-EvAmjSH75XRj-Cn4G9yVnhiVXy0E5UypEDOEmkcCkX7p7NJB7l3S/s1600-h/SoftLittleThoughts.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 60px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmS2diVfFZ5W3rIitWAOuGEz3IEOVrI2UnTN0vQPQQVeM0DoRyH4xCbtMwavfO_7wCUdY_o-sItNsYFH0xfRy9AyY-EvAmjSH75XRj-Cn4G9yVnhiVXy0E5UypEDOEmkcCkX7p7NJB7l3S/s400/SoftLittleThoughts.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387455644870632450" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />It has b</span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">een</span> a very quiet, serene day at the cottage. There is something about being not quite well, at a time when there are huge and heavy things going on in your life, and you find yourself having a day that seems like a break in all the clamor, the worries, the fears, and a deep calm comes over you, and you just kind of glide. That has been my day...<br /><br />The parrots, the pugs, and Big Dog Moe felt it too. They have been very quiet and peaceful and sleeping a lot of the day. We all seemed to be in a dreamy sort of place, and I found myself feeling free of everything outside of my own body and my own little home. A gentle release. One of those times when you realize that your whole body is tense and then you consciously relax from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, like at the end of a yoga class as you lie on your mat perfectly still with your eyes closed, just breathing. That's the kind of day it's been.<br /><br />It is been a day of silent prayers and waves of love going out to everyone I know, to my dying mother, to my children, and their spouses or partner, my grandchild, friends, and somehow I felt connected to the whole world without sorrow, or worry, or pain, or grief. It has been, really, a miraculous day, a day after so long, so many months and longer, of feeling so much pressure from so many directions I felt as though I were being flattened and could barely breathe. Today my breath is rhythmic and relaxed, I listen with a soft smile to my sleeping pugs snoring all around me, and every once in awhile a little flutter of wings as a sleeping parrots settles himself in a different position without waking up. I am happy, it is a day of grace.<br /><br />It is the kind of day that you can't plan for, and you can't make it happen, and you don't know why it happens, but you are grateful for the gift of this soft space to rest in. There is no big news here, I just wanted to share it with you. Maybe if we know these kind of days exist we can consciously watch our breath and remember to relax our bodies, consciously let go of tension, let it flow out of our bodies and feel, even if only for a moment, like a swath of silk blowing gently in the breeze. I always think, on these rare precious days, that I feel like a frog on a lily pad in the middle of a stream just resting and watching as the rest of the world goes by. Maybe I am a frog today. Maybe this chair is my lily pad.<br /><br />I don't know why but all day long I have been thinking about writing this quiet little post, just to share the gentleness of this day with you, maybe, I thought, I could send little waves of peace and kindness, love and compassion, tenderness and grace out to all who stumble across this blog, at least that has been my intention in writing it, and surely I have been doing it, sending out ripples of stillness and hoping it can bring you back to your center if only for a single moment, to hear the still small voice within, to witness your own life, and all of the people, places, and things in it, and for once just let it exist, and be, and glow softly, like the one light I have on here as I write, in a mostly dark room, with all of the animals sleeping around me, no television, no music, no sound save the soft whooshing sound of the air purifier and a humming inside my body that you only really feel when you are very still and very quiet, at peace with yourself and the world, no matter what it may bring, I have this moment, I have had this whole gift of a day, and I believe I will sleep smiling, feeling the soft air from the overhead fan, and I'd like to think that this day will soften the days ahead, and as I meditate I will feel myself here, I will try to carry it with me, like a magic elixir, and drink from the tiny bottle that I carry in my pocket, just a sip, to help me let go of worry and fear, to remember that such a day can exist, and if a single day can be this way, so too might it spread through our lives if only we allow it.<br /><br />Of course we forget, and then we remember, and when we least expect it a soft quiet day slips into our world and we wake up feeling it from the start. This has been my day. I wanted to share it with you, and send you love, and wish you peace...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcFSFRj_8VueGnxh_TRDuwz5nj9I0J8Ifd5OsPSJaQ5QU2nxhoHY4ekoA8KYcA4Y6gwiX08KVhcnTQzjnTxDkkWhQQMueD02BGF01oD3MHG0pf9ilYxUMttwfw8jN22FrlTOKmyddAn5zd/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcFSFRj_8VueGnxh_TRDuwz5nj9I0J8Ifd5OsPSJaQ5QU2nxhoHY4ekoA8KYcA4Y6gwiX08KVhcnTQzjnTxDkkWhQQMueD02BGF01oD3MHG0pf9ilYxUMttwfw8jN22FrlTOKmyddAn5zd/s320/MaitriSz4.4.16.09Green.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387461776353880642" border="0" /></a><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-16688202583310866852009-09-29T16:55:00.008-04:002009-09-29T17:13:19.948-04:00"Mysterious Mondays" Will Still Continue...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbVgX04hk3_CPNTTaI3-TrI5pwCV8-elZ6rU_YRUeBL-1L6MGfqexJl598BsXEFeg3nDEtQZSPcj7BmH1VEE1PHfkt8g9drhSLSswk6Kb0WStAMjop2s3ELmR15OlaIDhN04ygcfYAm8F/s1600-h/ALittleClarMysMon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbVgX04hk3_CPNTTaI3-TrI5pwCV8-elZ6rU_YRUeBL-1L6MGfqexJl598BsXEFeg3nDEtQZSPcj7BmH1VEE1PHfkt8g9drhSLSswk6Kb0WStAMjop2s3ELmR15OlaIDhN04ygcfYAm8F/s320/ALittleClarMysMon.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386996123734990098" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I have received a lot of notes from people saying "Don't Discontinue Mysterious Mondays!" in response to my saying "Mysterious Mondays Are A BUST!" in yesterday's post. I should have worded that better. What I meant was that what with the shingles I hadn't been able to do "Serene Sundays" and you could just forget "Mysterious Mondays" (from ME for now) until I feel a little better!<br /><br />So no worries folks. I love "Mysterious Mondays" even though with the things that are going on in my life <span style="font-style: italic;">MM</span> have been a little funky and cattywompus! Mysterious Mondays are here to stay!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT2kNv9dKM6CMFhOAj1wMDI4InS4ZGdHRvy5_CDTS26V-TZMRgfiU2r6LiXUfOFvVYsJbZa-rOyxRgYvp4NKpWDHdjKR9pbIyLfHJF1HwbKc8Tyb7joRm8J0-sdD91u5j_rSnlSYhRTneO/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT2kNv9dKM6CMFhOAj1wMDI4InS4ZGdHRvy5_CDTS26V-TZMRgfiU2r6LiXUfOFvVYsJbZa-rOyxRgYvp4NKpWDHdjKR9pbIyLfHJF1HwbKc8Tyb7joRm8J0-sdD91u5j_rSnlSYhRTneO/s320/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386999836338832114" border="0" /></a>... still trying not to scratch!<br /><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-2283350681561142852009-09-28T21:31:00.006-04:002009-09-28T21:51:11.619-04:00Shingles, Movies That Make You Think You're Going Out Of Your Mind, and DON'T SCRATCH!!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2njmRs-cL92zEOMWnfeybMhDmmYEpg88yHohYam4-74jaYH2nc3LbspHYgUN0p1vMFOn_1Nd88IfVBa22dkd-H3fH_JbdpAgN_c8Y3JsQkwKxDBYKCWG1C03V7l6ELgjL4No4ncFMdfP/s1600-h/ShinglesSunday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2njmRs-cL92zEOMWnfeybMhDmmYEpg88yHohYam4-74jaYH2nc3LbspHYgUN0p1vMFOn_1Nd88IfVBa22dkd-H3fH_JbdpAgN_c8Y3JsQkwKxDBYKCWG1C03V7l6ELgjL4No4ncFMdfP/s320/ShinglesSunday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386696495461452114" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">What a few days it's been... The tense over-riding fear as my mother's death grows closer, so many changes happening faster than the speed of light and more, the stress finally got me in a physical way. I have a whopping case of the Shingles and I am in pain and exhausted. I want to touch base and explain what happened to the Sunday and Monday memes. It seems that life just <span style="font-style: italic;">will</span> happen, and there's nothing you can do about it.<br /></div><div face="georgia" style="text-align: center;"><br />And the trouble is that I am in the contagious phase, so no one can come around me, and it's on My back and moving around under my arm. Itches like mad and if I try to scratch it ever so lightly pain shoots through me like a lightning bolt (I don't think that's fair play. It should either itch OR hurt, not itch so bad you think you will go insane and then the least little scratch sends shooting pains that seem to go through your back and out the front.) <span style="font-style: italic;">Be careful, don't let it land on you!</span><br /><br />So if I don't write for a few days you'll know why, and I wouldn't want you to get too near me and get some horrid disease because I would feel guilty for the rest of my life and frankly I've got more than a lot going on. (Shrug...)<br /><br />So take care of yourselves, stay out of trouble, don't go near contagious people, just knit or watch a movie or something. I'm self-medicating with movies. Good Lord, I tried to watch the Tom Cruise movie "Vanilla Sky" and I nearly went insane. Watched it over 2 nights and just couldn't go any further. I felt like I must be on some bad acid trip and I've never done drugs! Maybe it was the shingles. No, I think it's just a weird movie. I think I'll crochet a little and hope tonight's movie is better.<br /><br />I'm about to get out my little violin and sit on my pity pot so I think I'd better go...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdY05dGayBflq_XP6SvOvGYoVfqBgDHfklUV7b84qDwttRHq609jzfo3FJ4l4ZHKDyXa8LcKWiVbUfKT9KfrwWWbBjxuhWRyhDaF9WmI0eF61B93Q2_5l6tw6_AZsnLClVLEePNezDgYkG/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdY05dGayBflq_XP6SvOvGYoVfqBgDHfklUV7b84qDwttRHq609jzfo3FJ4l4ZHKDyXa8LcKWiVbUfKT9KfrwWWbBjxuhWRyhDaF9WmI0eF61B93Q2_5l6tw6_AZsnLClVLEePNezDgYkG/s320/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386699611393376914" border="0" /></a>... itching, but not daring to scratch... sigh..<br /><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-24218844111470583852009-09-24T08:19:00.012-04:002009-09-28T21:52:51.813-04:00"Wisdom Wednesday" ... A Day Late & A Dollar Short.... Oh well...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuG_yX5xR1EGgyDrooF_5opjDY1MOBgaorA6g3dEUmaqIdv-Pvb_no0-4PkgolmedZTvkF0Y3z0705f3yyKlLKVtK9PHfk1IgIyN-U0pgJiy7wy3GcCKmkMqZlVSjlS78CuWt_I_u_JZLb/s1600-h/WisdomWednesday.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuG_yX5xR1EGgyDrooF_5opjDY1MOBgaorA6g3dEUmaqIdv-Pvb_no0-4PkgolmedZTvkF0Y3z0705f3yyKlLKVtK9PHfk1IgIyN-U0pgJiy7wy3GcCKmkMqZlVSjlS78CuWt_I_u_JZLb/s320/WisdomWednesday.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385220879280000818" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Well, you see, here's the thing. If I have any wisdom at all, I have encountered one little fragment in the last 24 hours, just a bit of wisdom, and I think it's something about taking care of yourself.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />You are not a slave to your memes (Or anything else for that matter.). I love the ones that I set up and they are very special to me but when your mother is dying and your life is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">topsy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">turvy</span> and you are in a bare subsistence mode in a place you're absolutely certain the health department will come in in any minute and shut down, and you are absolutely vehement that the animals are to be taken very good care of but you don't do the right things to take care of yourself because you are mostly found either curled up in a ball in your over-sized "womb chair" either crying, depressed, frozen and unable to move, breathe or think, or just a blob of leaking matter making a mess of the only piece of furniture in your little place filled with old furniture that you truly love.<br /><br />And so what I am saying is that yes, I love this Meme and shall continue to do it as I may. The time ahead is iffy at best, and when the worst happens, I will be very gentle with myself and allow myself to let everything go. It is a very surprising thing that the world can get on without you. I shall likely be a ball in a chair for some time. So I do the best I can, I give all I can, and I simply won't apologize for not being what people expect me to be.<br /><br />This is wisdom too. Be good to yourself. Take precious care of yourself. Learn to say no, and remember that no matter how caring a person you are, you can't give from an empty well. That is one of the basic teachings of my ministry, <span style="font-style: italic;">The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Maitri</span> Ministry</span>, which is not based on my name but on the <span style="font-style: italic;">teaching</span> of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">maitri</span> which was my impetus for changing my name legally to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Maitri</span> 5 years ago. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Maitri</span> is not only the teaching of loving-kindness and compassion, but it is first and foremost the teaching that you have to take care of yourself, you have to have compassion towards yourself and love yourself and fill that empty cup inside of you before you have anything to give to another. We are not slaves to life. We are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">participants</span> in it, part of a larger world. And as everything and everybody change in every moment of the day, when you need to pull back to nurture yourself, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">there</span> is someone else who has just filled his or her cup and is ready to go out and share that love with the world. Your day will come again.<br /><br />So I am not so much doing <span style="font-style: italic;">Wisdom Wednesday</span> as I am putting a stake in the ground with a rainbow ribbon on it and saying, "This is where <span style="font-style: italic;">Wisdom Wednesday</span> takes place. The three memes in all each have specific days in which I might get the job done on time, but if I can't, I can't.<br /><br />So those my thoughts for my day late and dollar short meme. I have three memes who each have a state of free-flowing, in the moment, on the right day and the right time sort of thing going on. Oh, they'll be here, and will make every effort to use the day of the week it has been set up for, know that it's going to float a little. And you know what? That's just fine with me.<br /><br />The greatest wisdom of all is to listen to your own heart and intuition and never stray from it. If you don't learn anything else, learn that. It will save your life...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw5qJYvAQTa8hi9DZqm_o53cBmqzfaRVy0bNPVwsEg1-rpeTeU5yDmNw6WzFIo5QgTEFfpxzcpMVZsf19kFv8A3uWR7j95pk0ITVpK9iwiU9pem19wwcL7wYYFUG1MvhyPZPm3r3R7_VwW/s1600-h/MotherMaitriLG.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 36px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw5qJYvAQTa8hi9DZqm_o53cBmqzfaRVy0bNPVwsEg1-rpeTeU5yDmNw6WzFIo5QgTEFfpxzcpMVZsf19kFv8A3uWR7j95pk0ITVpK9iwiU9pem19wwcL7wYYFUG1MvhyPZPm3r3R7_VwW/s320/MotherMaitriLG.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385013237392803282" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPiiS6hRPgs9j7ra7aAdtttfGE2dfE6QEHR03zmOr8i4UtRBwy3Pa4pAf_acczYZJMRMOuiDFppilNhH7yoRJ1-3tbjv5OjsfN48F47I7GCsKRAVskd9xJnMK9dvaGvW15rJnA0tUoUhz/s1600-h/ltgreenbar.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 14px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPPiiS6hRPgs9j7ra7aAdtttfGE2dfE6QEHR03zmOr8i4UtRBwy3Pa4pAf_acczYZJMRMOuiDFppilNhH7yoRJ1-3tbjv5OjsfN48F47I7GCsKRAVskd9xJnMK9dvaGvW15rJnA0tUoUhz/s400/ltgreenbar.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381043724723767426" border="0" /></a><br />It is essential that you only register your link here if you are an original content blog that plans to participate in the meme and not just try to advertise your blog. Also no blog will be accepted with sexual or other questionable content. The blogs are checked constantly and those who do not comply will be eliminated with no further comment. We appreciate your understanding. This is for fun and friendship, not promotion. Blessings to all...<br /><br /></div><script type="text/javascript" src="http://www2.blenza.com/linkies/easylink.php?owner=maitrilibellule&postid=13Sep2009&meme=3572"></script>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6112433662883880207.post-25911081011263663822009-09-23T03:49:00.009-04:002009-09-23T05:09:01.626-04:00Use This Exercise Everyday, or Whenever You Need Grounding...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gomWnjZF66IOMGz993UcrRLIYoE42mv03gDTdXBNfNmg3rWamXOann8qSgld8JYucwwKawl0NrBMjttEltl6oZc7tssqh4Q0sGd-tmlxbCB3bgc6KqzVEJ6ZHRGVKVCra83W42sqBOTV/s1600-h/AtThisMoment.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gomWnjZF66IOMGz993UcrRLIYoE42mv03gDTdXBNfNmg3rWamXOann8qSgld8JYucwwKawl0NrBMjttEltl6oZc7tssqh4Q0sGd-tmlxbCB3bgc6KqzVEJ6ZHRGVKVCra83W42sqBOTV/s200/AtThisMoment.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384567350042765058" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">When you feel as though you've lost your footing in life, when you need to ground yourself, when you need a practice to set you straight, reclaim your life and your presence upon the earth, or simply need to check in with yourself, write, "At this very moment..." and keep going. It doesn't matter what comes up, or if it makes any sense. Don't judge, just keep writing.<br /><br />I have been a journal-writing teacher for over 30 years now. I have taught in churches, colleges, women's centers, in the offices of therapists, ministers, to AIDS patients, to pregnant women, in person and online, large groups and one on one. These are only a few of the mediums I have taught in, as well as writing circles in my very own living room. I write very detailed classes with new material for every class. They run roughly three hours long and may contain up to a dozen writing exercises, but the most important one, an exercise used in many journal and writing classes, is "At this very moment..."<br /><br />As a student of Buddhism for thirty years as well, I constantly practice mindfulness. It is a never-ending <span style="font-style: italic;">practice</span> because you keep falling away from the present moment into outer space and get lost in your very own life. You can become agitated, depressed, anxious, or at "loose ends" causing you to become very nervous. It's an important thing to practice mindfulness and meditation, coming back to the present moment, but it is even more important to write it down, to ground yourself in words. Black words on white paper is something with weight. You can touch it, feel it, you can breathe and relax once more because you have placed yourself back in time and space and are tethered to the ground. I do this exercise very often, even in my mind driving down the road, but it is best done on paper.<br /><br />I need to do this right now because my Circadian rhythms have gone all askew again. From the time I got up this morning (yesterday morning!) until I went back to sleep in the afternoon, I could barely keep my eyes open. I took care of all of my animals but I didn't even have the energy to make coffee. I kept falling back to sleep, or dozing off. I finally gave up about 1:30 p.m. and went to sleep and slept until late afternoon. I was disoriented and off kilter. I got up, got the dogs out, took care of the parrots, and then walked out across the way to get my mail just to help me wake up. I gathered up and took three bags of trash out. I made coffee. I had my morning coffee at 6 p.m. It is now 4:05 a.m. and I am wide awake. I am drifting because I am at odds with the world. I need to do this exercise so I won't drift right off of the edge of the planet. I need to try to figure out where I am and what I'm doing. I need answers to questions, and I need to write stray thoughts down so that I may gather them up as if I were carrying a basket over my arm picking apples. If I gather them up like this they won't run about all asunder. And so I shall begin.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At this very moment...</span> I am sitting in my big over-sized chair with my feet up on the huge ottoman. I am covered with a cherry red fleece blanket and have 2 huge pillows on my lap which are a substitute for a desk. My velcro pug Sampson is asleep on the arm of the chair. The arms are very large and wide and soft and a perfect pug size. I have his flannel blanket on the arm of the chair and eventually he will slide down against me as we curl up together to go to sleep. Sam is my living teddy bear, or puggy bear as it were. I am not afraid of the dark, afraid to go to sleep when my body is ready, with Sam near. I haven't slept in my bed in so long I can't remember when I did. This is because of a childhood of night horrors, that led, as an adult, to my bed not being a safe place. This chair is a cocoon. I am in my cocoon with my soft, warm, snoring teddy bear. I am typing this to you, whoever you are out there, and mostly just for me.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At this very moment</span>... I am comforted by a number of stones, different stones and crystals that I use for healing, wearing some, and having laid a few carefully picked stones on my chest and belly so that as I sit here I can write feeling protected. I am a stone healer. They are living, vibrant beings, and they do heal. I don't practice this on anyone but myself, but it works and is very comforting. My energy is lifted, in this moment, by peridot, angelite, prehnite, aquamarine, morganite, several "aura" crystals -- aqua aura, rose aura and ruby aura. Amazonite, clear crystals, amethysts and lepidolite. At this very woman I am a healer, and I am being healed. By stones and snoring pugs and stirring parrots who sometimes talk in their sleep.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At this very moment...</span> I feel my book moving about inside of me, the one I have been writing for a decade inside my organs with dangling participles hanging off of my ribs, metaphors floating through the four chambers of my heart, sentences going straight down my legs bumping into muscle and bone, and whole paragraphs nestle in my belly. This book has been like a very long pregnancy, the gestation period needing lots of space and time for a book to grow, one ten year marathon to live through, and now, now I am about to cross a threshold and then, and only then, will I be ready to give birth to the book. I have done a lot of writing through these years, but it wasn't <span style="font-style: italic;">the</span> book. At this very moment I am collecting syllables so that I can put them together like puzzle pieces into words. It is now 4:25 a.m. and the pages of the book are fluttering about so that I feel like I need to take alka seltzer, but I don't have or take it. I don't drink soda and I don't have any bubbly seltzer water. I hope those pages don't get caught in my throat when I go to sleep, just before I have to get up to get the dogs out in a couple of hours...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At this very moment</span> ... I am wondering what you are supposed to do with your time when your mother is about to die and she waxes and wanes and almost drifts out to sea and then the tides push her back up on the shore and on it goes. It is a time out of time experience, and I feel myself floating out to sea as well, trying desperately to hang onto something, anything, a piece of driftwood, so that I might have a chance to live through all of this and make my way back to shore intact. I am using this time to do simple tasks and to try to finish things. I keep updating my blogs because I feel better when I write and it's not time for the book. It is still growing appendages and at this stage it would be a premie and might die if born too soon. I rest and elevate my legs so the book won't slide out before it's time. That could be the death of both of us.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At this very moment</span> ... I have just realized that the cord has fallen out of my laptop and I hope I can keep writing awhile before I have to fish it out of wherever it is. The computer wants to go to bed but I am not ready.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At this very moment</span> ... I am longing to get myself back into my art. It has taken the hardest hit these last several months when my mother's decline has, after 4 1/2 years, picked up it's pace so that something in me froze up and my crochet hooks, knitting needles, spindles, Navajo weaving tools, beads, buttons, stones, feathers and hatforms, and vintage dressform and more have all frozen in time. They are deep in a block of ice the size of an apartment building, and they won't start slipping out of the melting ice until my mother has passed.<br /><br />I don't know why but I can't get to it no matter how hard I try. I have my 10' by 10' project in my large carpet bag that I always keep near me, <span style="font-style: italic;">just in case, </span>along with my hand-carved wooden crochet hooks that I showed several entries back. They are life-like and keep whispering things to me. "You'll feel better if only you would just start..." Maybe when your mother is about to die you are not supposed to feel better. Maybe you are just supposed to float and drift and sleep and cuddle pugs and watch your spider sister, a banana spider you've named Bella who is the size of your palm as she weaves her web so big it stretches between bushes and all the way up into the limbs of the tree above and down farther than the eye can see. She is getting ready for new life, the time when her spiderlings will hatch. I am preparing for death, for the time my mother drifts through the portal and out of this world to the one beyond. Will she be sitting "up there" on a cloud strumming a harp, or will she be in some crystal lined holding cell waiting to slip through the "veil of forgetfulness" into another life when she is someone else living a life I can't imagine and don't know.<br /><br />Approaching 5 a.m. your thoughts are airy and floating around you and through the house. They slip out of a window or door to get some fresh air and you begin to make less and less sense. At least to other people. At least I do. But it all makes perfect sense to me.<br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Maitri/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/Users/Maitri/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.png" alt="" />At this very moment I am becoming very tired. Writing has once again become the sedative I needed, because it emptied my mind and put all my words in a little block in an imaginary world where people I shall most likely never meet might read in the days ahead. Or not.<br /><br />At this moment I just found myself stopping and rubbing my eyes and going into that place that has no name when we are not awake and not asleep but definitely heading in the direction of the latter. So in the next few moments I shall brush my teeth and ready myself to sleep with a snoring teddy bear of a boy, with a chorus of sleeping pugs all around the room snoring off key, just what I need to to lull me into a few hours sleep, if I am lucky, before it all begins again...<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQyfMJLgJaUgcxw6w0tLWxMLypxQNdAhs6lAPo5Hsjp7-hXBrD9ArI6nFORgkUmCM3RlB-4CGEo63WX80fy9qCwqgMkI6iuZyZJY20TOGmSQF9u3Xd2akaLWWD_BrbEjAv3GaAPWauIXL/s1600-h/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 101px; height: 42px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQyfMJLgJaUgcxw6w0tLWxMLypxQNdAhs6lAPo5Hsjp7-hXBrD9ArI6nFORgkUmCM3RlB-4CGEo63WX80fy9qCwqgMkI6iuZyZJY20TOGmSQF9u3Xd2akaLWWD_BrbEjAv3GaAPWauIXL/s320/MaitriSz4.4.16.09.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5384582635408960178" border="0" /></a>... yawning ... and ...<br /><br /></div>maitrilibellulehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13209739470133507700noreply@blogger.com2