Not hatred. Not today. Not ever.
Love. Today. Forever.
Whichever way you look at it, let it push fear out.
9/11: what are you holding?
Not hatred. Not today. Not ever.
Love. Today. Forever.
Whichever way you look at it, let it push fear out.
Plymouth fall festival concert
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Peter (our son) and Brian, with Mark on drums behind Peter and Mike on bass behind Brian
At sunset last night we rocked in a park in Plymouth to our son's band performance at the fall festival. This is our favorite gig for them, because a couple thousand people come, and they're really into it, unlike some of the clubs/bars where people are busy drinking, talking and flirting with each other.
Families wandered the square, ate corn dogs and funnel cake, and you could hear kids screaming on the Tilt-a-Whirl fair ride in the background (at first I thought girls were screaming over the guys in the band). Peter, Brian, Mark and Mike rocked it out, and on every side little ones and big ones were dancing, clapping and loving it.
Every time the band has played Plymouth in the park, these dancers have been smack in front of the stage enjoying the music by showing off their dance moves. The dapper gentleman in suspenders often twirls his cane when dancing solo. I kid you not, he was moving almost constantly for 3 hours. I'm amazed at both the stamina and the courage!
My favorite song of the night was when Peter sang and played a cover solo of "Red House" by Jimi Hendrix. He was fantastic! I could listen to him play guitar all night. He becomes one with the instrument, and then we all become one with the music, and it's pure bliss.
Peter (our son) and Brian, with Mark on drums behind Peter and Mike on bass behind BrianAt sunset last night we rocked in a park in Plymouth to our son's band performance at the fall festival. This is our favorite gig for them, because a couple thousand people come, and they're really into it, unlike some of the clubs/bars where people are busy drinking, talking and flirting with each other.
Families wandered the square, ate corn dogs and funnel cake, and you could hear kids screaming on the Tilt-a-Whirl fair ride in the background (at first I thought girls were screaming over the guys in the band). Peter, Brian, Mark and Mike rocked it out, and on every side little ones and big ones were dancing, clapping and loving it.
Every time the band has played Plymouth in the park, these dancers have been smack in front of the stage enjoying the music by showing off their dance moves. The dapper gentleman in suspenders often twirls his cane when dancing solo. I kid you not, he was moving almost constantly for 3 hours. I'm amazed at both the stamina and the courage!My favorite song of the night was when Peter sang and played a cover solo of "Red House" by Jimi Hendrix. He was fantastic! I could listen to him play guitar all night. He becomes one with the instrument, and then we all become one with the music, and it's pure bliss.
Cloud mountain
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We may not have mountains in Michigan (no, Boyne "Mountain" is NOT a mountain), but we have clouds. Clouds are my mountains, when I don't have real ones. They loom and inspire awe, and give dimension to the landscape the way mountains do.
Time to meditate on a cloud, like a child.
We may not have mountains in Michigan (no, Boyne "Mountain" is NOT a mountain), but we have clouds. Clouds are my mountains, when I don't have real ones. They loom and inspire awe, and give dimension to the landscape the way mountains do.
Time to meditate on a cloud, like a child.
Flap your wings
See this butterfly? He was flipping and flapping so eratically around the zinnias yesterday, I didn't think the camera would focus on him. See how tattered his wings are? His right one is almost half gone after a season of flapping.
Yesterday I read in Tolle his comparison of humans and ducks.
"When two ducks get into a fight, which never lasts long, they will separate and float off in opposite directions. Then each duck will flap its wings vigorously a few times, thus releasing the surplus energy that built up during the fight. After they flap their wings, they float on peacefully, as if nothing had ever happened."
"If the duck had a human mind . . ." Tolle writes on, and you can fill in the rest. He'd start thinking and analyzing the situation, hold a grudge for next time, maybe for years to come, etc.
So the point is, be more like a duck, flap your wings and let go of the story!
Visit Paris Deconstructed for a new post about my favorite resting place in Paris.
Reese Farm sweet corn
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sweet girl with sweet corn
sweet girl with sweet cornI'm trying to live in the moment. Another summer of eating fresh local sweet corn is coming to an end. I "stopped by" Reese Farm today (it's a good 50 minutes from our place), partly to buy our last dozen ears from the best corn grower in mid-Michigan, and partly to snap a pic for JorgDotOrg's photo hunt. This weeks' hunt: A Person (2 bonus points if they're holding a vegetable).
If this is all we have for supper on Labor Day, I'll be happy. And then I'll be sad. It will be over until next year.
THANK YOU, Reese farmers, for laboring to plant, tend and harvest the best sweet corn!
Contentment
The Onions by Auguste RenoirJust when I was feeling sorry I don’t have an extra $135 to hop on a plane to see Lesley in NYC, or $900 for a snowblower for Don to clear the driveway this winter, or $700 plane fare for Peter to visit his friend in Milan, I read in my birthday book Celebrating the Impressionist Table (by Pamela Todd),
“Camille Pissarro, Edgar Degas, Paul Cézanne, Alfred 
Sisley, Claude Monet, Berthe Morisot, Auguste Renoir, Edouard Manet and Frédéric Bazille . . . lived on a stream of credit . . . often they were without money to eat, let alone paint. . . .Once, in Arles, van Gogh lived for four days on forty-three cups of coffee and stale crusts of bread, while covering canvas after canvas with a glorious explosion of vivid color. . . . Renoir kept Monet, his mistress, Camille Doncieux, and their son from starvation by bringing them scraps filched from his parents’ table. ‘We might not eat every day,’ Renoir wrote to Bazille, ‘but I’m content because Monet is great company for painting.’”
Jean Monet by Claude Monet (Jean is Claude's son by Camille Doncieux)
Le dejeuner sur l'herbe by Claude Monet
Contentment has nothing to do with how much I have, or don’t have. It has nothing to do with financial status. It has to do with what I value, and whether I believe I have enough.
“I might not have ____________, but I’m content because ____________.”
How do you fill in the blanks?
New post at Paris Deconstructed
More goats.
See how sculpture is like poetry. Read my new post at Paris Deconstructed about the Picasso Museum.
