September 15, 2002 - A

"Dragonfly"

To not rot away at the computer, I didn't want to do that all weekend. It was enough that I spent all of yesterday in Norrath. Bonevivant had an epic time of it, though, searching for his necromancer spells that could only be found on Luclin, the MOON of Norrath. However, my map was incorrect. They were NOT available in Shadowhaven. He had to go through a secret entrance to an adjoining place called Echo Canyon. Some lizard man named POIK helped him find his way.

And then, after that, he had further adventures. He'd outgrown the Lavastorm region as he's now level Eighteen. The scythe beetles of North Karana were okay, but he wandered east, to East Karana. The gorgehounds there were okay, until he wandered into the Gorge of King Zorbb. His sister Marishka and his brother Trublu have already been there for several seasons. So now the minotaurs and muddites will know his great power, as well.

But TODAY, I want to do other things. We've started it off right, with a visit to our pool. It was both relaxing and exhilarating to play in the water. We had a little visitor. At first he was shy, just skimming the surface of the pool. I kept trying to get a closer look at him, though. Finally, he acquiesced, and rested a bit on the edge above the pool. I got a good look at him, and his fascinating striations and cartoon-like bug eyes. Well, I gather that's why that call them BUG-EYES!


BUG-EYED Dragonfly!

Fascinating creatures, these dragonflies are. I've learned there are over 400 species of them, and evolution has devised a way they keep their unique differences. ''Appendages that can be seen at the end of abdomen of the male are designed to lock into species-specific grooves and notches on the female in order to secure the two together for mating.'' Sometimes it may only take seconds, but some species CAN be joined together for HOURS!

Dragonflies begin life as aquatic larvae, but emergence is not easy for them. It can take as long as five years for the process to be completed, and many don't make it.

So the sight of a fully grown dragonfly, flitting about the water's surface is indeed a magical thing!

September 15, 2002 - B

"'Charmed' Day"

I didn't spend all day at the computer! Julia felt in a mood to go to Old Town, in search of fancy teas. We parked near Monarch's Rest, and I was hungry. We couldn't pass by, of course. It was good to visit there again. It wasn't since July 27th, the day before . . . Laura's heart attack, that the three of us dined there. I could feel her spirit there, smiling on us, truly glad we were out and having fun.

We discussed Julia's renovation of her Julia Domna page, while enjoying a chicken and artichoke pizza.

I helped her re-arrange the Domna page for better clarity, once we got home. I even played a little Everquest, before sitting down to watch Charmed. It was the series finale, the one in which they are given the choice whether to give up their powers 'and return to normal lives'. It was also the one in which the youngest sister Paige wore that sexy little white top:


oh, yes, and those lovely pouty lips . . .

It was interesting trying to draw a constantly moving actress. I think I got the gist of her, though.

Today was a good day, even 'charmed'.

September 17, 2002

"On Art"

The following quote found at Mute Troubadour intrigued me:

Merton writes that art is rooted in Eros (see Raids On the Unspeakable, "To Each His Darkness"). To an extent, this is true: The desire, the passion -- as all desires and all passions -- to create is rooted in Eros. But for art to authenticate itself, it must pass from Eros to Agapé, from simple self-existence and self-expression to expressing Life and the Divine.

So much of today's art is blandly commercial or painfully self-aware; it never gets outside or beyond itself; a blank signpost that says, "Write your own map." If we were master cartographers of our souls, that would be fine. But we aren't.

Art that stays rooted in and expresses only Eros fails its highest purpose: Orienting the soul to God. The unfinished carvings of Michelangelo are some of the best examples around of art that is rooted in Agapé.

One of Michelangelo's Unfinished Carvings

Michelangelo's Declaration:

My eyes longing for beautiful things,
together with my soul longing for salvation
have no other power
to ascend to heaven than the contemplation
of beautiful things.

The person trapped in the marble above seems to be longing for that 'beautiful salvation'. Yearning passion, a hunger unceasing, burning, as it were, the root in EROS to be sure, fuels the power to create. If there is no hunger, there is no motivation. What is it we hunger for? Immortality? Beautiful things? Beautiful immortal things? Is it a yearning to connect with others, get outside oneself, and show them these beautiful things?

If we are only 'cartographers of our souls', then our maps should have some beauty to align and refine them.

(Another entry on ART)

September 21, 2002 A

"Radiant Jewel"

I went to work as usual this day, but strange things were happening. Our alteration shop had newly made a contract with a movie producer to do a biograpical movie about a wealthy and powerful woman in the town who'd passed away recently. Her estate had generously allowed the use of the woman's own clothing for this undertaking, and armload after armload of it was being brought into the shop. I examined each piece, wondering what we might do with it. Nearly all were of the polyester knit that many older ladies prefer to wear. There were many lavender and burgundy hued garments, such that would flatter a lady with gray hair. However, some would require standard repairs such as resewing a button or a seam.

Then a particularily odd bundle of clothing arrived. The group had an invoice attached to it, and I examined it. It was from our company, but from another branch. Several oddly pleated dresses still had their fitting pins in them. I gasped in horror and exclaimed, ''This is some work the woman was going to have done while still alive!'' Why this should creep me out is odd. I did notice the prices charged her. Each piece had been marked up more than double ordinary prices. The fitter at that store must have figured the old lady could pay for it easily. That doubly creeped me out.

I declared loudly and with force, in hopes that my reasoning should be taken seriously, ''Shouldn't we wait until the actress arrives so that we may work with her and her dimensions? She may be taller or shorter than this woman was!''

My co-workers agreed this was a good idea. Then I woke up. I suppose this is the type of dream that can be expected on a day of overtime. It is the busy season, and in order that we not fall too far behind, I've been asked to come in on Saturday.

&   &   &

It's been four days since my last entry. It's not because I haven't been writing that there have been no entries. It's been because I've been uncertain of each poem's merits that I've shied away from putting them up for display.

No, it's not because I've been playing Everquest too much, although Bonevivant has reached level twenty, and besides getting new spells and the specialization skill, has earned the right to a surname. Being the fun-loving 'devil' that he is, he chose easily: Bonevivant Bontemps! He is happy.

But back to discussing the poetry. Yes, I've decided that two of the poems aren't worth clogging cyberspace with them. They did possess a few good characteristics, but more of the type that are only SMALL way-markers in the MAP of my life. They did not seem to be significant enough to share.

However, there is one possibly of more significance and without so many irritating doubts around it:

Radiant Jewel

What sweet liberation
sings to me?
I dance on a path new.
Strength in the sinews?
Perhaps I shall find.
all I ever will know
is waiting for me,
waiting for me to give it clarity.
I shall be present to this moment.
Grace will come to me.
Tall, I will find myself.
Think that no more I am a child,
glad to know my woman's power.
After all these years
I can claim it.
Radiant jewel,
I shall wear it always.
What sweet liberation!

JAL, 9 - 20 - 2002

September 21, 2002 B

"Remembering Kisses"

Amused, I was to see today's horoscope ''Duties and responsibilities may loom large. Energy and vitality are the lowest they've been in years. You have a major share of hard work and deadlines.'' Ah, yes, the duties have been dealt with as best they could. I did not finish the order I was trying so hard to finish. However, the cleaner-side girl had closed out her cash register and was ready to lock up. I had to go. But really, it was the fault of the previous seamstress who worked on that wretched coat. I had to let out six of the outer coat seams, and a matching six of the inner lining seams to obtain the fuller width the man needed. However that unknown idiot had stitched each of those lining seams three or four times, in rows a quarter of an inch apart using tiny little stitches. I did a fair amount of cursing.

But that is behind me now. It's the weekend now, and I intend to forget work. I won't forget the music I listened to while at work, however. Alone in the sewing room, I had the choice of radio station. I surely did not select the 'same old' country station, but the pop variety station. Thus, songs by young people, singing of their youthful passions entertained me. One, however, was by a singer with some experience in sadness that usually only the years can bring you.

Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say
Let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down . . .

from One Last Breath
by Mark Tremonti and Scott Stapp of CREED

It's the way the man sings ''Hold me now'' that gets to me. I remember in the last months, my scared Laura, begging ''Hold me now'', for she felt 'six feet from the edge' and down to her 'last breath'. I remember making love to my scared Laura, and the trembling feeling of wishing myself more adequate to the task. I always wished I could transcend more, with greater passion, though she was always grateful for my efforts. Still, they make precious memories.

I don't know as Laura would have wanted the world to know how fearful she would get at times. Maybe she'd want everyone to know, that this is what heart disease can bring you. But a great many things can create that feeling of 'falling'.

Turning from the trembling intimacies, I now want to remember Laura's spontaneous nature, spontaneous right until the last. As I was headed home from work, (Was it something about the blueness of the sky, or the beginning of my 'time off'?), I remembered the Spring day we dropped Julia off at work and headed north to Prescott, to visit the forest trails there.

''It WAS a magical time. Several times on the path, Laura and I paused to hug and give each other long, lingering kisses. Something about that air brought out the romantic in both of us.'' I have written of our day there. Later that day, we even smooched outside the restaurant at which we had enjoyed lunch, with delicious abandon. Oh, yes, I shall treasure each one of those long, lingering kisses. Whether they were with trembling awe or exuberant playfulness, I treasure each one . . .

one such digitally preserved kiss!

September 22, 2002

"Full Circle"

I am led here to ponder deep thoughts:

I want to begin, ''Let all begin with compassion, let all end with compassion, let all troubling things settle to forgotten places. Let them settle, and let me breathe, and ponder this immense depth.''

So I shall. What wonderous Spirit has led me here, bade me listen to myself, that I might learn something? A quiet message on a favorite site said this:

Be soft in your practice. Think of the method as a fine silvery stream, not a raging waterfall. Follow the stream, have faith in its course. It will go its own way, meandering here, trickling there. It will find the grooves, the cracks, the crevices. Just follow it. Never let it out of your sight. It will take you.

---Sheng-yen

So I shall have faith in Spirit's leading.

Translate It Yourself

If I stop here
I shall have no voice.
Listen first, then is the revealing.

You know it,
it cuts deeper and truer
than you can imagine.
To the Power and its Source,
to yield and summon,
then to wield . . .

But on whose altar,
in what fine artifice?

You can give it any name you'd like.
But it's not in the name, it's the face.
Strong-armed, many armed,
swift dancer of destruction,
spinning back again into creation,
would She teach you your power?
Would you know the fear,
would you not run from it?
She is your teacher, sure.
You on tight feet would leap upon her stage.
Then her strong arms shall be your strong arms.
Then your mouth will open,
and you'll like the sound of your own voice.

If in this birth,
you know yourself anew,
then that's the radiant conclusion.
Any weaker god
will not show you your face.
Though you will have to translate it yourself,
create your own meaning,
using whatever clues you can find.
Search and you'll find them.

Now, having this power,
what shall I do with it?

JAL, 9 - 17 - 02

Yes, 'having this power, what shall I do with it?' We can call the source EROS, or we can call it KALI, names are just names. The MEANING behind the names, the 'face', as the poem says, is what counts.

And WHAT SHALL I DO with the power, whose rush I love so? Anything COULD be done. But I want positive things, otherwise the results are so much ego-driven fluff apt to powder away at the first wind of trial. Love must be the TRANSFORMING element. And, that, too, has been given many names. Agapé is a Greek word which Merton used in an earlier quote that has been used to name this transforming element. It is the compassion that loves 'while expecting nothing in return'. Once past EGO, we can transform what might otherwise become destructive. How can these forces work in harmony? Some say they cannot. Yet I believe there is a way.

If I stand in the 'power pose', enlarging myself with Kali energy, or 'Eros' if you prefer, and get this rush, then must come the understanding: Transcend yourself, or its just ego. And I do want to transcend, for there's a 'rush' there, too. All that happy 'hippy' universal harmony, brings its power, too. 'One with the universe', some sages have described it so. And this force can inscribe my actions, that I be a peace-bringer, in a world that needs it so.

And we can come full circle, rejoicing in the glory within us, our own Divinity, while embracing the glory within others, the Divinity within them.

May we never feel alone. May we feel the enlarging circle of wisdom from wise ones gone before us. May we pass on some of our own. May the circle be 'open, but unbroken'. May we know this love.

Let us walk in peace.

September 23, 2002

"Hands Project"

Bonnie, another journaller, is doing a Hands Project. Here's the large version of the 200x200 pixel picture I sent her:


 

The table on which my hand rests is full of nicks and imperfections, just like my hand, so it's a well-matched background. Having done my hand, later I got Julia's hand pixilated. She didn't mind helping me with this project at all. The first attempt was against a brick wall background, but I found it not nearly elegant enough for Julia. So I grabbed a pretty scarf, and got Julia's soft hand positioned upon it.


The larger version is at her photo album.

I would also like to at least get a picture of my mother's hand(s) for the photo album. And I want to add more handwriting samples. Someday I may even have a sample of my own that is not entirely messy, as well.

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