How long does change take?

This small article was in a recent newsletter I get in my email, and I thought it was interesting... Especially for someone as impatient as I am!!

"How often have you started a new program of change in your life
only to feel discouraged three days later that "nothing is
happening"? Or maybe you actually stick with a new ritual or a
new diet for a whole two weeks and you see some change … but it's
not happening fast enough.

What do you do? Before you decide that everything really is
hopeless, take a moment to look at the process of change with the
help of this magical principle: "A small change in the present
produces a larger change in the future." This is the basic
principle we use in spellwork and it means that if you make even
the tiniest change today you will see bigger change in about a
week. And that bigger change will lead to an even bigger change
in about two weeks. And so on.

So let's suppose you've started working with a new magical
practice. Say you've decided to start meditating for 15 minutes
each morning-nothing fancy, just sitting quietly and clearing
your mind as much as possible. On the first morning of meditating
you will probably notice an immediate change because your mind is
quiet at a time when it normally is not. You're content that your
new program of meditation is going to be useful and helpful. More
importantly, a small and highly contagious molecule of change has
been born.

Now what happens a week after you start meditating? Maybe you've
had a really hectic week and you feel tired and irritable. All of
sudden it seems like the 15 minutes of meditation is too much-it
takes too much time when so many other things are pressing on
your time. It seems like nothing is happening, no change is
occurring.

But "nothing's happening" hardly describes what is going on
inside you. That highly contagious molecule of change that was
born the day you began meditating has been busy reaching out and
touching and transforming other molecules inside you. Now a
greater percentage of your molecules than ever before has the
quality of quiet that you create during your meditation. The more
quiet you have inside you, the more you're able to listen to your
inner intuitive voice, the better your work will be, the better
your life will be … but it's still too small a percentage for you
to notice.

But if you stay with your new meditation practice that small
sense of quiet will begin to spread. It's like the example of
starting out with a penny and doubling it every day for 31 days.
Here's what you get at the end of each week:

Day 1: $0.01
Day 7: $0.64
Day 14: $81.92
Day 21: $10,485.76
Day 28: $1,342,177.28
Day 31: $10,737,418.24

So at the end of the month you have over $10 million. The same is
true with your new meditation practice but the key is how long it
takes you notice. If you ever take the time to observe your life
you will be amazed by how easily you are hypnotized by the
incessant buzz and hum of daily activities. There's voice mail
and email, gossip, your car running low on gas, the need to feed
the cat, or all of your troubles at work. There are a million
things that take up your attention while this small quiet
molecule formed by your daily meditation goes around and changes
you from the inside out.

The difficulty lies in being aware of change. In the example with
the penny doubling, it may take you 31 days-when you already have
$10 million in your pocket-before you notice that something has
shifted and life is different. But it's worth it, right? I'd say
$10 million is worth it. So, as they say, don't give up on change
five minutes before the miracle happens. Stick with whatever
you've decided to do to change your life and prepare to be
awestruck!"
Copyright (c) Alan Joel and Stephanie Yeh 2006. All rights
reserved.
http://www.shamanschool.com

This guy wouldn't have liked eating at my house...

AHMEDABAD, India (Reuters) - A jobless alcoholic burned himself to death after his wife refused to serve him meat for dinner, Indian police said Sunday. Sixty-year-old Mithailal Ram Sanjivan doused his body with an inflammable liquid and set himself ablaze outside his one-room house in Ahmedabad, the main city of western Gujarat state.
Police said the victim, who had been without a job for years, and his wife, Geeta Sanjivan, 54, had a scuffle over the dinner menu.
The wife refused to cook meat as they could not afford it.
Irritated by this, Sanjivan locked her in the house before setting himself on fire outside.

(LINK)

News of the Day

(Disclaimer: The following news article does not necessarily reflect the political views of the owner of this blog. It does not necessarily NOT reflect the views of the owner of this blog, either.)

"WASHINGTON - The Senate Judiciary Committee approved sweeping election-year immigration legislation Monday that clears the way for 11 million illegal aliens to seek U.S. citizenship without having to first leave the country."

(Read the article HERE)

Interesting....

Wow, I am being attacked in two of the last three posts... Must be doing something right, eh?
Hehehehehehe
Let's see what else I can find to bait my readers with.... Such fun to watch them boil....Maybe the immigration protests? Oh wait,HERE is an article I might be able to anger someone with....
maybe instead of baiting them, I should be trying to help those who get angered by other's opinions....
How about a link to my favorite Doctor/Author's article on using meditation and yoga to reduce stress?
Yoga Journal's article on the yoga pose to calm the brain and reduce blood pressure?

Maybe I should stick to the bland little diary entries?

Those of you who are regular readers, know me well enough to know what I am saying here...;-)

The Hunt has Begun

"At daylight this morning, the first baby seal was killed for her fur on Canadian ice. It was heartbreaking to watch, but bearing witness to this cruelty -- and exposing it to the world -- is essential if we are finally to end this slaughter."

Rebecca Aldwirth's Journal

Take Action: Urge Canada's new Prime Minister to Stop the Seal Hunt

Heather and Paul McCartney Bring Media Attention to the Plight of the Seals

Protect the Seals

Paperwork

I never knew how complicated enrolling in college could be. Even on-line classes!
I have now finished the federal applications for financial assistance. They say I should get the next round of paperwork in a coupld of weeks.
I am enrolling in Fort Hays State University's virtual college... I have decided on a 4-year degree, Bachelor of Business Administration in Management. After going over the list of required courses, I decided it would be a good degree that could be useful in a large variety of jobs. Do you think I should have started with something that took less time - a general studies certificate or something? 4 years is a long time - I turn 40 in less than a year, maybe I am too old to start over now...
Anyway, as long as i can come up with the money, I will be ok.
There was a woman once who posted naked pictures of herself on her webpage, and they set up a paypal account to take donations to help with a boob-job. She got enough to have the surgery... Maybe I should set up a paypal account to take donations for my education...LOL
Fort Hays State was where I had planned to go after high school. I wasn't planning on business then, though... I wanted to major in journalism, with an art history minor. Business will be easier to use to get a job that pays more than minimum wage though, I think, without having to move...
I am just concentrating on getting enrolled now, and the the semester starts in June. I have a job lined up, I think, but they don't know yet when it is going to start, so I am just waiting on that - hopefully soon!

Sad story

This story I found in the book "Earthbound: Pagan Homesteading", by Raven Kaldera, is absolutely why I am a "closet" Pagan, and why it unnerved me so much to find SRS "investigating me" that time with my son...

(EDIT: THIS IS NOT MY STORY! I HAVE HAD OVER 100 HITS ON THIS STORY TODAY, THANKS TO LINKS FROM OTHER PEOPLE, BUT SOME ARE THINKING THIS IS MY STORY. IT IS A STORY FOUND IN THE ABOVE MENTIONED BOOK.)

"This story starts in April of 1998. We took in another family of pagan refugees, as we are often wont to do. They were a family of five; two parents, and three boys between the ages of seven and thirteen. Their landlord had lost his mortgage and the bank had given them a week to get out of the house; we offered to take them in if they could pack quickly. We were in the process of renovating our guest cottage; we figured after a week of sleeping on a futon in the living room, we could have them all in there on beds with their own private semi-house, which would last until they found an apartment, which we hoped would be soon.
May Eve dawned, and I kept all the kids busy - my own daughter as well as their three - helping me work in the garden. We got rather dirty planting seeds. Meanwhile, my wife was helping their parents pack and driving our truck back and forth with boxes. Our house was full of their boxes, to be sorted later. Then a car pulled up and a woman got out, accompanied by a policeman.
She was from the Department of Social Services, and she had a hot pink pantsuit and heels and big hair, held up into a huge fluff by an impossible amount of hairspray. The blackflies went for her head like a buzzing cloud, as if they were angered spirits of our land sensing a harmful intruder. She informed me that she needed to see the facilities that these children would be moving into, and not sure what else to do, I showed her. Apparently one of the boys had talked at school about their impending move here to our farm, and word had gone around. She looked around our place with a pinched look on her face and then left.
The next day was May Day, and we were holding a Beltane festival. In the middle of the arriving guests, the social worker came back, with another social worker and two cops. She had a warrant and was taking the boys away. Their parents begged and pleaded, but to no avail. Beltane pagans in bright clothing stood by and watched, agonized. On her way out, she intimated to me that she was getting ready to serve papers on my own daughter, too.
I slid into action, called my ex in California, and we had a powwow session and hired a lawyer who was experienced in dealing with DSS to protect my child. Three days later, the parents went to court to plead for their children, and were denied. They did bring home the affidavits, though, and we learned what we had been accused of.
The social worker claimed that we had no stove in the house, since obviously our big cast-iron wood cookstove, Esmeralda, wasn’t really a stove; no one in their right minds would really try to cook on that, would they? She claimed that the brooder full of chicks in the pantry was an illegal health hazard. I called the town animal inspector, who laughed and said he had a brooder full of turkey poults in his own pantry; of course it was all right. She claimed the house was messy; well, she was right on that one, whose house wouldn’t be a mess on moving day? Some claims were outright lies; that we had no electricity or lights, that my daughter was not in school (she was homeschooled, which is legal) and so on.
The worst, though, was the final claim: that we were being investigated by the police on suspicions of animal sacrifice. Apparently the fact that we were pagans and kept livestock meant, of course, that we were sacrificing animals. After all, what else do people like us do with chickens and goats? Of course, when you’re in a small town, the police aren’t faceless enemies. They’re your neighbors, and you know them. We were a bit nonplussed that we were being investigated and hadn’t heard about it, so my wife trotted on down to the police station and showed the paper to the Chief.
As it turned out, he was pretty nonplussed, too; if there was an investigation going on, he hadn’t heard about it either. In other words, another lie. He wrote us a nice letter saying that we were law-abiding citizens and had never been under investigation by him for anything. It left us pretty chagrined, though. “Animal sacrifice!” we joked. “Did they have to go with that old saw? Couldn’t they have thought of something more original?”
In the end, there was one good thing - we successfully blocked any attempt to take our daughter away - but many more things that still leave us with a heavy heart. It took three years and moving to another state for our friends to get their children back. We had no luck in convincing the legal system that their social workers had lied; terms like “inappropriate religious practices” continued to be thrown around. According to our lawyer, we were not the first pagan family in the state to be accosted by DSS for our beliefs. The string of illogic is still very convincing to them: Pagan equals Satanic cult member equals child molester. I went online to the two email groups I was involved with at the time - the pagan homeschoolers and the (all faiths) homesteading list, and asked if any of them had ever had these difficulties. To my shock, I found that one in three of the pagans on the homeschooling list had been investigated, and some had lost their children, and investigations had happened to fully half of the homesteaders.
So the case is clear. Since we are rural and pagan, we are doubly at risk for losing our children. “At least we have freedom of religion in this country,” my friends tell me. “They can’t burn us or shoot us for being pagans.” No, they can’t. But they can take our children away from us, and never give them back."

The United States has nothing to do with "Freedom of Religion", it's more like "Freedom of Christianity"... Do you think they would take up an offering to send the Pagans somewhere that Paganism (which, by the way, is recognized by the Armed Forces as a religion) is free?

Kansas - Mother Nature's little plot of practical jokes

"The ancient Saxons celebrated the return of spring with an uproarious festival commemorating their goddess of offspring and of springtime, Eostre (aka Eastre and Ostara). Second-century Christian missionaries encountered the tribes of the north with their pagan celebrations and attempted to convert them to Christianity. As it happened, the pagan festival of Eastre occurred at the same time of year as the Christian observance of the Resurrection of Christ. It made sense to the christian church, therefore, to alter the festival itself, to make it a Christian celebration as converts were slowly won over. The early name, Eastre, was eventually changed to its modern spelling, Easter." (rest of the story HERE)

This is the day that Pagans celebrate the return of spring, and outside my window is what is predicted to be the biggest snow storm we have had all winter. Ah, the joys of living in Kansas. I know, Nebraska got it too, but I don't live there, LOL, and besides, they are farther north.

Amazing story

I heard a man talking on television today, that said some things that I wish I would have heard when my daughter was still a teenager.
I wish my mom would have heard it when I was young. Not that she would have listened to it.

Dr. Wayne Dyer was talking about a story told by Peace Pilgrim, who was an amazing woman. She told the story about a tribe in South Africa. When someone in the village does something wrong, the put that person in the middle of the village. Everyone in the entire village stands around that person, and for hours, every person in the village takes turns telling stories about every little thing that person has ever done right, every nice thing done for someone else, every time that person has cheered someone up. Afterwards, when everyone has completely exhausted everything they can think of, there is a big celebration, where the person is ceremoniously welcomed back into the village. According to Peace, the need for this ceremony, someone actually doing something wrong, is rare.
Isn't that fabulous?

Taking a sick day...

I had a thought for a blog entry today, but it hurts my head too much to think that hard... My lungs are on fire and I just don't want to deal with it.

I did find this cool news story... Hope you are as inspired by it as I was.

"NEZAHUALCOYOTL, MEXICO - A rugged, 70-year-old Jesuit priest stops his SUV on the soggy road that runs through Mexico City's largest dump and asks: "Where's mass today?"

"Down there," announces an elderly, hunched-over woman, pointing to a nearby clearing, where garbage pickers are converging to sift through a newly deposited pile of rubbish.

At the site, Father Guevara unfolds a small metal table, places a lace doily over it, and waits patiently for his flock. Eventually about 150 workers gather, taking a break from hauling refrigerator-sized garbage bags bursting with bottles and flattened cardboard. They keep their hoods and kerchiefs on, shielding their faces from the dust and eye-stinging toxic air. Mass begins."

Read the rest of this story HERE.

Reading list

I have decided that one of the things I should be doing while I am not working is reading all those books I have never gotten around to reading.
I looked up TIME's "100 greatest Novels", from 1923 until the present. There are a few I have read on this list (How did "Are you there God, It's me margaret" get on this list??) and a few that I know enough about to think I don't want to read them. ("Animal Farm"? "Deliverance"?)
Actually, a certain man I know would make me start off with the ones I didn't want to read... He was funny that way.
Anyway, I wanted to get your opinions. Give me the title and author of ONE book you think I should read and why.(Odds are 50/50 that I can actually get it in our little backwards library, but i will try!)
Can't wait to see the responses!

To make a long story even longer....

When I was about 10, all the boys in my class started teasing me. I developed a bit faster than most of the girls in my class, and weighed a bit more.
Looking back at pictures, I was by no means fat. The other girls were the knobby-kneed “sack of antlers” kind of girls, and I suppose I did look bigger than they did.
In 7th grade there was a television commercial for a certain carpet deodorizer that claimed one of the odors it removed was the smell of dog. It described this dog rather comically by saying “Rover, who’s all over”. From then on, thanks to Randy L., my nickname was Rover. I learned that year to keep my head down, because if I looked those boys in the eye the teasing would start.
I really just ignored them, on the outside, but it was killing me on the inside. That was also about the time that I hung around anyone who showed me the least bit of kindness. Most of the few friends I had were high school kids, outcasts, and druggies. My best friends were two girls who had just moved to Hooterville at the beginning of 7th grade. Carol had moved from another smaller town in Hick County, and Becky had moved here from Wichita. Her mother couldn’t control her anymore and had sent her to live with her grandparents.
Up until 7th grade I had been this shy, sweet, innocent girl – But Carol and Becky took care of that!
I remember drinking my first beer; I was sitting in the back seat of an early 70’s GTO. Carol was sitting beside me, her boyfriend Gary was driving, and one of his best friends, Dan, was in the passenger seat. We were out cruising the dirt roads in the county, avoiding the cops, and I felt so grown up! LOL
In 8th grade I smoked my first joint, and lost my virginity. I was actually the last girl in the group to lose it. I remember it was on a Sunday afternoon, with Shon R., and I thought I was going to go to hell for having sex on a Sunday… LOL Shon had since been in prison more than he has been out of it – He came to my house a few years ago, and he really hasn’t changed much…
By the 8th grade, Carol had started seeing Tim B., one of the most notorious druggies in Hick County. He and his brother Rodney cruised around in an avacado green Pinto, with green plaid interior. The stereo, however, was kick-ass, worth much more than the car. We would cruise around with that stereo blasting so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think, usually with AC-DC playing. That year was one of the most fun years I have ever had, although at the time I didn’t see it that way. I didn’t have a steady boyfriend, and I thought that was a major thing. If I had only known then what I know now! We spent that year sneaking out of our houses, and hanging around with people 5-10 years older than we were.
By freshman year, Carol had had an abortion, and dropped out of school. I just sort of fell out of that crowd and started spending more time with the “artistic” crowd. Michelle M. was my best friend for a while… She wrote poetry similar to mine at the time, and also enjoyed painting and drawing like I did. We also listened to a lot of music that most Hick County high school students our age didn’t. She was into the Beetles, and the Rolling Stones (at the time she had every single LP ever produced by both groups – I would love to have that collection today!) I was completely into the Doors. Never mind the fact that Jim Morrison died when I was three years old…LOL! I had Morrison’s poetry books, and every Doors album I could get my hands on. I also started listening to a lot of other 60s groups, and Janis Joplin and Grace Slick were my heroes.
The teasing still went on, though now instead of just the boys in my class it was just about every boy in the entire high school. We had what was called the “Pit”, with benches down the middle, where all the lockers were. If I ever had to go in there between classes I kept my eyes on the floor and prayed that none of the boys would notice me, because if they did they would shout out insults. I got to the point where I took every single class textbook home, and carried them all from class to class with me, so that I would never have to go back to my locker.
I was also getting cut down by my mother at this time, who constantly told me that I could never do anything right, and why did I have to be so stupid, and why couldn’t I be like my cousin Mindi? I never heard an encouraging word from her. Sir told me once when he met my mother, that she was proud of me, and thought I was smart – I have - to this day – never seen or felt that from her.
Michelle and I stayed friends at school, but I started spending my out of school time with Angela H., another wilder-than-me girl who was dating a biker 18 years her senior, Zook. I dated a guy named Justin for a while. Justin had grown up just west of here, but since he was about 5 years older than me, I had never met him before. He had lived a couple of years in California, and had come back that year to try to outrun the cocaine habit he had developed. Things were great for a while, until the cocaine got him again. He ended up leaving town on my 17th birthday. (He is in prison now, stabbed a Mexican guy 27 times in his front yard for trying to steal his coke.) At the end of my junior year, I started dating one of Zook’s friends, a 34-year-old biker named Corndog, who was as crazy as the day is long. I witnessed things that year that would just scare the hell out of most of the people I know now (most of which I won’t talk about, even though I am not using names.)
By the beginning of my senior year I had calmed down and although I still hung out with Angela and Zook, I spent a lot of time alone.
In October of my senior year, I met Rick. Up until that point I had thought I never wanted to get married, never wanted kids. I met Rick and found out it can be sort of nice to have someone actually like you for you, and not just to get something from you. He asked me to marry him, and I said yes. I had the chance to go to Paris that summer to study art for several weeks, but my self esteem was so low I didn’t think Rick would wait for me, and I knew that no other man would ever want me, so I didn’t go.
Rick and I got married on the day of my senior prom, April 20, 1985, and one month to the day later, on the day before I graduated, we found out that I was pregnant. I was sick 24/7 the entire 9 months, so going to college (which I had planned on doing) was just out of the question. Then we had a newborn, and I got a job, and college just kept getting farther and farther away. Now, that ‘baby’ is 20 years old and I still haven’t gone.
Anyway, I have bored you long enough with my story. Looking back on some of the people I hung out with, and things I witnessed, it looks like my life could have been a Lifetime movie original, except that it doesn’t have a happy ending yet! LOL

Another reminder

I know that I have mentioned it before, but if you haven't checked out the Temporary Impostition, you really need to.(It's been in my "daily reads" list for quite a while now)
The photos and style of writing are absolutely wonderful. I really enjoyed today's entry, I can almost see, feel and hear what the words are conveying, even though I have never been to New York.

Random memory

When I was about a year old, my parents divorced.
My mother and I moved in with her parents. At first, we lived with them on their farm, but not long after, we moved to town, a house with a basement apartment for my mother and me.
She worked as a CNA in a local rest home, a job I know she didn’t enjoy, but paid as well as she was going to find in Hick County at the time. My real father I didn’t meet again unti I was 23, but that’s another story.
She would go off to work very early in the morning, and as I was not old enough to go to school, she would leave me sleeping, in my bed. My room was right under my grandmother’s kitchen, and just off my room was a washroom where the back stairs went up into her kitchen.
Every morning when I woke up, I knew I was to go upstairs. Before I would get out of bed, though, I would yell up to my grandma, who was always in the kitchen, and she would tell me good morning, and to come on up. I remember how the east window would be just blinding with the morning sun, and I can still smell that kitchen, and feel it. I would stay with my grandparents whenever my mother was working or away. After she married her second husband, and he adopted me, we stayed there just a bit longer before they bought a small house 4 blocks away and we moved. I still spent hours and hours every day, even on school days, with my grandparents. They were the only place on earth that felt truly safe, that I received unconditional love.
When I was 10, my parents sold the little house and bought a bigger house, which is where I live with my mother now. It is right across the street from where my grandparents lived. I loved having them right across the street. As a teenager, however, it was very hard to get away with anything! I remember being behind the house one afternoon, with a boy from school, and he kissed me… My grandmother just happened to be standing right by the garden gate and quickly shoo-ed him home. She was very upset about it, and didn’t like him at all. She was very right, he has since been in prison more than he has been out of it since he quit school.
Rick and I were married about 4 years (we married in 1985) when the little house came up for sale, and we bought it from the people who bought it from my parents. It is the house that we are waiting to have rewired, and renovated.
My mother’s cousin bought the house across the street, and I have only been in a few times in the 19 years since my grandparent’s car accident that took their life. I don’t know why, I just feel too sad when I go there. I like remembering my grandparent’s furniture, and the way the house smelled. Sometimes, when I am upset or anxious, I close my eyes, and take a detailed tour of every inch of that house, exactly as it was when I was little.
My grandmother and I loved to listen to the morning doves, which are all over here in Hooterville. To this day, every time I hear them I think of her. Almost daily I find dove feathers, sometimes I will be walking through a store and find one on the floor, and I really feel that they are reminders that she is here with me.
The reason that these memories are so precious is that I don’t have a very good memory. I don’t have many memories of my childhood, really, and I am always so afraid that I will lose these too, if I don’t constantly, actively keep a hold of them.

Nothing of any interest to you, perhaps, but it was just what I was thinking about tonight...

On this day...

Alexander Graham Bell made his first phone call on this date in 1876.
Mr. Bell was a very intelligent, visionary sort of man, but I'm sure that he had no idea where his invention would eventually lead.
I have always thought it would be fun to go back in time and bring someone like him to the present, to show him how things have progressed.
I have also wanted to bring the founding fathers to the present to see the monster government that we have now, which is what they tried to prevent.

Offical Religion of Missouri?

Missouri is trying to make christianity it's "official" religion.
Isn't that a violation of the Bill of Rights?

See what you think:

Missouri House Concurrent Resolution No. 13

First Amendment of the Bill of Rights:
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. "

Bill of Rights

I hate Barbie - That B**ch has everything...

On this day in 1959 the Barbie Doll was first introduced.
She was created by Elliot Handler, the founder of Mattel, Inc., and his wife, Ruth. The doll was named after the Handlers' daughter, Barbie. Ken is the name of the couple's son.

Ok, we all know all the feminist issues with Barbie. But you know what I really – really hate about Barbie?
All that pink.
That stupid smile and glazed look in her eyes.
The fact that girls are automatically supposed to love Barbie, and want to be Barbie.
The fact that If she were human, her measurements would translate into a thirty-nine inch chest, twenty-one inch waist, and thirty-three inch hips. How many women do you know like that?

My sister and I had Barbies.
We liked to design and make clothes for her, and decorate cardboard houses for her (I am too old to have had the dream house!) But I didn’t play much with the doll herself.

Barbie Doll becomes object of hate (BBC link)

Anti-Barbie club

Great blog entry on Barbie

"I hate pink"(love this one)

One strange Barbie

Sun Salutations

Listen to the salutation to the dawn,
Look to this day for it is life, the very life of life,
In it's brief course lie all the verities and realities of our existence.
The bliss of growth, the splendour of beauty,
For yesterday is but a dream and tomorrow in only a vision,
But today well spent makes every yesterday a dream of happiness
and every tomorrow a vision of hope.
Look well therefore to this day.
Such is the salutation to the dawn.

(Sanskrit salutation to the dawn)

Gordon Parks dies at 93

I had always knows basically who gordon Parks was. It wasn't until I read his biography that I really understood who the man was. He has since been on my list as one of my most respected people.

"A versatile and prolific artist, Gordon Parks, Sr. warrants his status as a cultural icon. The poet, novelist, film director, and preeminent documentary and fashion photographer was born on November 30, 1912, in Fort Scott, Kansas, the youngest of fifteen children. Parks saw no reason to stay in Kansas after the death of his mother and moved to St. Paul, Minnesota, at age sixteen to live with his sister.
After a disagreement with his brother-in-law, Parks soon found himself homeless, supporting himself by playing piano and basketball and working as a busboy. While working on a train as a waiter, Parks noticed a magazine with photographs from the Farm Security Administration (FSA). The photos by such documentary photographers as Dorothea Lange, Russell Lee and Arthur Rothstein led him to Richard Wright's 12 Million Black Voices, other photo essays about poverty and racism, and the social and artistic voice he had been seeking. Parks bought a used camera in 1938, deciding on a career in photography. I

n 1941, Parks received a fellowship from the Julius Rosenwald Foundation to work with Roy Stryker at the photography section of the FSA. In Washington, D.C., he trained as a photojournalist. He would work with Stryker for the next few years, producing work and honing the modernist and individualistic style he became known for by photographing small towns and industrial centers throughout America.
By the end of the 1940s, Parks was working with Life and Vogue and in that capacity did some of his most famous work. Traveling the globe and covering issues as varied as the fashion industry, poverty inBrazil, the Nation of Islam and gang violence, and eventually celebrity portraitures, Parks continued to develop and create new ways to convey meaning through his work. " (read the rest of this article HERE)

For his extensive filmography,( as actor, writer, composer, director - Including the Shaft movies) see this LINK.

It was his photography, though, that really put him on my list.
For a view of some of his photography, go HERE.
Some of my favorites:

"American Gothic", Ella Watson, 1942

"A Beggar Man", Paris, France, 1950

I refuse to keep writing depressed entries

You know, I haven't done any "real"writing in a long time.
That last entry was the first in a long time, and I was sort of proud of it, I liked the way it turned out.
Those don't seem to be my most "popular" entries, though.
I get more response from the ones I write on days when I am very depressed and whining.

I refuse to write on days like that anymore... It isn't helping me, and I am not that weak mushy little girl that I sound like on those days.

Anyway...

I found this poem the other day, and I like the feeling I got from it... See what you think...


Incantation


A white well
In a black cave;
A bright shell
In a dark wave.

A white rose
Black brambles hood;
Smooth bright snows
In a dark wood.

A flung white glove
In a dark fight;
A white dove
On a wild black night.

A white door
In a dark lane;
A bright core
To bitter black pain.

A white hand
Waved from dark walls;
In a burnt black land
Bright waterfalls.

A bright spark
Where black ashes are;
In the smothering dark
One white star.

Elinor Morton Wylie

Farewell (edited)

In the high school gym where we all walked across the same stage to get our diplomas, the town said farewell to Jessie this morning. Hundreds of people, many I'm sure didn't even know Jessie, came to pay their respects to a man who knew what he believed, and put his life on the line to protect it.
When you live in a town of about 1200 people, it's a pretty awesome sight to go down Main Street and see close to 250 bikes and their leather-clad riders (led by Ralph Rojas, Garden City-area state ride captain for the Patriot Guard Riders) lined up in front of the high school. I never saw any protesters, maybe they are saving their wrath for his funeral, or maybe they saw all those bikers and decided to turn tail and go home. Either way, I'm glad they didn't show.

The only thing that bothered me, and maybe it shouldn't have, quite a few of those people at that memorial wouldn't have given Jessie the time of day if they passed him on the street. It doesn't really matter now, what matters is that somewhere, I'm sure Jessie knows that they were there, to help show that we are proud of him, as we are of all our soldiers who give their lives to protecting us, whether they come home alive or in spirit, like Jessie.

(EDIT: I saw on the news that the protesters did show up at Jessie's graveside services. Reverend Phelps and his scraggly band of 6 or 7 protesters, with their upside down burnt American flags, signs saying "God hates your son" and "Your son will burn", and one woman spitting on a wadded up flag, stood about 100 yards from the funeral services. His funeral was held at the Soldier's Cemetery at Fort Dodge, just outside Dodge City.

About 90 yards from the protesters stood a long line of gleaming motorcycles in a neat even line, each displaying large waving American Flags, perfectly shielding Jessie's family and friends from seeing or hearing the protesters. HERE is the link to watch the televison news story in Windows Media, Jessie, the protesters, Governor Sebelius who was at Jessie's funeral, and an old man in overalls, Mr. M.T. Liggett, who is one of the more famous and colorful residents of Hick County who tells it like it is....)

News of the Day

I put the link to this story in my "News of the Day" link on my side bar, but since I don't think too many people pay attention to my side bar, and I also think this is an important story, I am going to put it here, too.

"ON THE ICE FLOES IN THE GULF OF ST. LAWRENCE -
Paul McCartney and his wife took to the frigid ice floes off the Atlantic Ocean on Thursday in a bid to halt Canada's annual slaughter of weeks-old seal pups.
Animal rights activists contend the killing of the doe-eyed baby seals, who are often clubbed to death, pierced with boat hooks or skinned alive, is cruel and unnecessary, but fishermen say they badly need the income."

Read the rest of the story HERE.

Another poem

D'Anerah has this poem on the sidebar of her blog, and I thought it was beautiful.
She has a beautiful blog, by the way, you should check it out.

Sonnet XVII

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

Pablo Neruda

Interesting bit of info

"MOON IN ARIES
THREE WORDS: selfish, temperamental and focused
Tempers can tend to flare very strongly during this moon, which can be rough following the Piscean moon. Again, take heart in knowing that the moons are never in play for more than 2 and a half days...reprieve will be on it's way. Being a fire sign, the attitudes brought out by the Aries moon seem appropriate. The next step is learning the best ways to deal with them, as well as avoiding and not scheduling taxing things during this moon if at all possible. As another resort of how to look at this fiery sign...try to remember that fire can reform and reshape ANYTHING it touches, for both good and bad...it is just the catalyst, we control the outcome - we are not just victims...we are the owners ofwhat it can bring about.
Beware of a ME ME ME focus taking place. If people take that attitude with you, grin and bear it. Stay focused, for fire allows one to stay very focused, as it is focused itself. This can be a trying time forthose with teenagers (sorry everyone). Rather than going heads on with them, maybe you can incorporate them in some activities TOGETHER, becoming bound rather than separate."

Courtesy of www.turningthewheel.org
I think I have been feeling this... LOLIt mentions to do something "together" with your teenager - Have you ever tried to get your teenager to do something with you?? LOL... I'm thinking that would just make things worse...LOL Mine turned 20 in January, and is pretty much independent... But the last 18 years or so I didn't think she'd live to see 20!! LOL

Misc.

There are days when I don’t trust myself to write because any admission of emotional or mental pain just sounds like whining. Those seem to be the days I really need to write, though.
I found a checklist of 10 things that are warning signs for depression, and it said if 5 or more were present it was probably depression – I answered yes to 8 of them. *Sigh*

Again, the weekly paper came out, and unless you are a CNA or a truck driver there are no jobs available. I checked the papers from the surrounding counties, and the same story applies.

I have really thought about going to truck driving school. Can you see me being a truck driver? It would keep me from going crazy being stuck in a building all day. I would love it, I think, until the roads were icy, or driving through a city in rush hour traffic. I don’t think that is what I am supposed to do, although what I am supposed to be doing seems to be eluding me.

My sister is moving. It won’t be much different, though, she lives less than 10 miles away and I haven’t seen her since New Year’s Day. Her husband, who had been the under sheriff in Hick County, is going to be an investigator for a police department in a larger town about 100 miles away. I’m happy for him, I know this job had been really running him down. Long story.

It does make me a bit jealous, though, her getting out of here… Again. I really think that staying here is the best for my son, because of his learning disability kids who hadn’t grown up with him would tease him, and I just can’t do that to him. So, I am stuck here, but I can’t seem to find my way here.

Through my reading and meditation I am learning a lot, but I just can’t seem to figure out how it pertains to me, in this place. As long as I am hiding here in my own little world I can pretend things are fine, but I can’t quite blend it with the real world. My spirit would die a quick death if I had to take a job washing dishes, or cleaning motel rooms… I have spent 20+ years doing jobs like that and I just can’t do it anymore. I need to be able to use my brain, my creativity.

So, I am still learning, and meditating, and hoping that when the time is right the right thing for me will appear, or my path will open up to show me what to do next. My unemployment runs out next month.

I did find a place that is taking 2500 word articles on Magic or Pagan related subjects… I thought that maybe combining what I have learned in reading with what I have learned in practice I could maybe try writing something… I don’t know… My writing skills aren’t what they used to be… We will see…

Healing

I used to think that I was born with the sign “Use me and lose me” on my forehead, but now I realize that I put it there myself.
My low self-esteem radiated a certain energy field that men picked up on, and it guided the way they treated me.
Probably why I am back with Rick – He is the only man I have ever been with that I felt I could be myself without being cut down, or told that the way I thought or felt about certain things was “dumb”. He just loves me with no expectations of who he thinks I should be.

I have been working through some “issues” in this department, and have found some interesting links. I don’t know if anyone who reads my blog can benefit from them, but I am sure that everyone that reads it knows someone who can.

Coping with a relationship breakup

Addictive relationships

Why some women seem to attract the wrong men



All of these links provided me with a glimpse into myself… And the ability to become stronger, and to rely on loving myself, and not on the love of a man to validate me.