This Is Pup . . . . Sherry’s Beloved

I am doing this with the hope that I can print it! So, there is no real response. Haha. Liz

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Hello

This is pretty tough isn’t it?  A shout out to all of those old friends may you be safe and healthy.  I know some who struggle, even without Covid-19.  You are heroic.  You have, amidst your struggle, given so much.  I am lucky to have a relationship with you.

I know that there are many here pounding away on your keyboards, getting it all out, putting it all in.  So much bravery.  So much stamina.  So many prayers.  Sharing love & hugs.

I am deeply moved by the tremendous good being spread around the world today and shared – so often coming from strangers.

 

 
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Spring is here. Oh my, I just looked to insert a photo. Et quelle surprise, all of the photos that I ever put into this blog are still here – though lost to me thru faulty back ups on my appliances. What a treat!

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Be wise like the raven.

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Experience and feel the beauty all around you.

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Be blessed by the warmth of the sun. Be safe & be well. Care for one another.

Love, Liz

Jackie . . .

Jackie, you were so loved!  We miss you.  We know that you are with Patty running and jumping over clouds, playing endlessly in doggie heaven.

 

I remember as if it were yesterday, picking you up from The Humane Society in 2007.  We were told that you had been returned twice.  We were told you were 6 years old.  You were a large dog and that would have made you 18 years old when you died.  Not possible.

 

For many years you had a great back yard.  We also took you and your sister out to a wonderful grouping of clean vacant lots and tossed a frisbee.  You guys had a blast.  We took you there instead of Forest Park because we would have gotten a ticket and been told to leave the park.

 

Boy-Boy misses you.  And Poppy really misses you.  I miss you too old boy.  But we will all be together someday.

Two Questions:

I have two questions for any and everyone who reads this post. I guess in reality I am looking for some ideas. The first question follows a difficult situation of just flailing around. I am just flailing around. The second question is a technical question, which results from something happening to me repetitively and annoyingly.

Question One:

Why am I creatively stuck? I have always been a creative person, very creative. However, I am currently stuck and have I been so for quite some time. I do not know what I wish to do. My husband is very supportive of me finding my creative outlet. I have an art space set up – within an excellent light space in our living room. I have water paints, acrylics, inks, pastels and other media from which to create. I have paper, a box easel (graciously given to me for Christmas by my daughter), how to books – everything that one might need to proceed except for inspiration.

For years, many of you knew that I wrote poetry. When I stopped, it was terrible losing my weekly connections to people with whom I had become “friends through writing.” I tried to write again and again but it just never panned out. I finally realized that I was clinically depressed and I did something about it. However, creativity has still not returned to me.

I have gone thru the good practice of forgiving those whom I needed to forgive, so as to move forward. But there is still no motivation nor inspiration. I guess that this is like writers block. So, I know that there are tricks to the trade so to speak, exercises to move one forward.

So, if anyone out there has any tricks or ideas that might nudge me forward into creativity, that would be great. And thank you ahead of time.

Question Two:

Why do the comments that I leave upon people’s blogs disappear, without fail, all of the time? There is usually a choice of commenting via my Google Account, URL and anonymously. No matter what I choose, the moment that I post a comment it disappears, forever. And, this is not a case of “comment will be visible once OK’d by the blog owner.”

Any ideas? I would so appreciate anything you might have to say. Thank you.

 

i am here mam

 

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over here, i am here
mam, over here
mam, i am in trouble

you know, that if i were
at a party
say, it was your party

and you said to me hey
pick a cartoon
lucky for you it was

a Peanuts character
so i did so
and I so loved her

right on, she is so much
just like me. the
last few years with hair

flying every which way
a metaphor
for being all mixed

up up up, up up up
and away oh
yes, far, so far away

 

OK – I am not sure if I am getting it right yet, but truly, I am trying.  It has been just so darn long since I wrote.  And/or linked to anything, well you get my drift.  I hope.  This is meant to be the response to a prompt at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads here in less than 100 words.  Funny, I am known for “not loving” cartoons at all.  But Peanuts?  That is different – yep, I love Peanuts.  So thank you so much – this was fun.  The real trouble is I cannot remember the name of this girl.  And I have been scouring the internet.  Guess it does not matter, someone will tell me.

Why do I feel like her?  Well I have just been kind of lost for the last 3 years.  Now I am found – I think.

Ghastly Green . . . . . Signs

Nuclear Waste from Pixabay

It’s

twelve forty five, past midnight.

It’s late and

i with my

toxic thoughts

take a turn

around my brain.

I have questions about

nuclear waste,

purulent green,

producing

seething heat.

Seeping up from

the ground.

Seemingly something

beauteous and awful.

Drink not the green.

Stay away.

But,

what about

this spill?

What but

death?

 

The photo is from Pixaby.  Thank you Mish for the prompt: signs.  Gosh, it has been so long that I can barely remember how to work with format or anything else.  I also hope that I can remember how to publish at D’Verse.

Pup . . . . . .

his birthday
is not important
to me

no
it is the day
he died
the day he
left
me behind
the day
I watched
the tide
gently
carry him
away
take his spirit
out to sea
and
still I see him
along the beach
my big wooly
Pup
my dark dog
my big
black Pup
I miss your bark
I miss your breath
I miss your play
I miss my
soul mate
everyday

so I say
to my Pup
never set
me free

I endure
my pain
one that
is so
deep
within
for it is all
that I
have left of
you

until
we meet again
I will pretend
that I hold
you close
and
watch you run
along
the beach
as we used
to do
pretend
we still
snuggle close
as I
nuzzle you

I guess that this is an “unbirthday poem.” It is what came to me for Poet’s United “Birthday Poem.” I know just how much Sherry misses Pup. He was/is the love of her life. I grew up with horses, cats and dogs. I love my animals. I have never been without a cat. Before David came into my life, Max was my great love. He was Siamese and devilish. But what a love – we were inseparable. Sherry writes about Pup today. Her poem is haunting and painful and can be found .

This poem is linked to Poetry United’s Mid Week Motif’s Birthday Poems.

Empty Mind

Today, Becca wrote a haiku mentioning “empty mind” among other things here. Her haiku got me to thinking about “empty mind.” So many spiritual traditions teach you to empty your mind so that you might “receive.” I can remember years ago, most likely in my late twenties or early thirties being told to “let go and let God.” It is interesting to look back and see things through the vernacular of the day. Years ago I studied and practiced shamanism with Michael Harner. More accurately; I studied with him and practiced on my own. He published the Shaman’s Drum magazine. As a shaman one “goes into the void” to seek knowledge, wisdom, truth and healing. At that time I was very interested in healing. The “void” is another manner of emptying one’s mind. I remember my void perfectly. I would travel by car to Lake Carlisle, dive deeply into the ground via this body of water and enter the void. My void was the dark blue night sky filled with stars. It was a very rich and dark, almost velvet sky. I used to travel across it with lightening speed acquiring what it was that I needed, healing, wisdom, spirituality. Have you ever had long periods of time when you felt spiritually void? I am just now coming out of one. I used to criticize myself when I had these periods as if I was sub human. Today I realize that these periods are restful and rejuvenating.

I had an experience with The Christ long ago, an experience of deep and all encompassing love. Among other things this opened me up to the understanding that all religions were simply languages, given by God to the different cultures so that God and the culture could communicate. Thus, bringing more goodness into ones life. So why is it that we constantly war over religion. Perhaps we are too interested in the study of our religion and not in emptying the mind. Empting the mind is fairly egoless. This experience also introduced me to many Christians, first in person and then on line. Forgive me if I offend any of you but for the most part they were not particularly nice people. Not everyone mind you, but many. So, what is it about this “empty mind thing” anyway? I know that it does bring me a calmness.

I have a spectacular view from my bedroom window. It is entirely man made, no greenery and nothing particularly natural. Seven floors up, I look out upon the whole north side of St Louis. Within my vision are several steeples and church spires. But most glorious of all is my view of the Stan Musial Veteran’s Memorial Bridge. I just love it! It is my bridge. I took possession of it the day we moved in here. There is also space where I can watch the traffic. I like to say that I can see the movement of the city. This calms and pleases me. It makes me wish for a wonderful and interesting view for all who are homebound. My mind empties with ease when watching, looking and seeing all that is behind our building. Following is a photo of my bridge taken this morning. At first I had decided to take a photo of it daily for the new year. However, I have decided that I shall only take photos of it randomly when it exhibits extraordinary beauty to me.

I have to tell you that I just looked at a comment from my friend Becca. It is odd how we humans interpret the words of others. She never said empty mind. No, she spoke of empty bedlam, something entirely different. None the less she did inspire me regarding empty mind.

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