Saturday, June 28, 2014

Friday, June 27, 2014

The Sense Of Beauty By George Santayana


To feel beauty is a better thing than to understand how we come to feel it. To have imagination and taste, to love the best, to be carried by the contemplation of nature to a vivid faith in the ideal, all this is more, a great deal more, than any science can hope to be.
George Santayana,The Sense of Beauty

Thursday, June 26, 2014

Lilah's Song by Adam Hurst

Reflections On Conscience


Many men carry their conscience like a drawn sword, cutting this way and that, in the world, but sheathe it, and keep it very soft and quiet, when it is turned within, thinking that a sword should not be allowed to cut its own scabbard.
HENRY WARD BEECHER,Life Thoughts

There are not anywhere else so many ways of trickery, so many false lights, so many veils, so many guises, so many illusive deceits, as are practiced in every man's conscience in respect to his motives, thoughts, feelings, conduct, and character.
HENRY WARD BEECHER,Proverbs from Plymouth Pulpit

Conscience ... seldom comes to a man's aid while he is in the zenith of health and revelling in pomp and luxury upon illgotten spoils. It is generally the last act of his life, and it comes too late to be of much service to others here, or to himself hereafter.
GEORGE WASHINGTON,letter to John P. Posey

Judge not according to the orthodox standard of a system religious, philosophical, political, but according as things promote, or fail to promote the delicacy, integrity, and authority of Conscience.
LORD ACTON,postscript of letter to Mandell Creighton

We don't need to judge by Don Miguel Ruiz


When we awake and we are the only sober person in the party where everyone is drunk, we can have compassion because we were drunk too. We don't need to judge, not even people in hell,because we,too,were in hell.
Don Miguel Ruiz

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Echoes of Our Hearts By Joe d' Mango

Music:
I Miss You-The Daydream



Echoes of Our Hearts
Joe d' Mango

Sometimes we close our eyes and just listen to the echoes of our hearts. We all fall in love and there are times when we love so much that we lose ourselves in our emotions. More often than not, we wonder why there are love that grows, and love that grows cold.

We would start to search for answers and try to find where love has gone wrong. But in the end, we find ourselves where we started for we cannot question love when it has its own reasons. Love will always be as it always has been....silent, mysterious and deeply profound.

Many of us believe that love is forever, that love never dies, only to be disillusioned in the end when we find our hands empty and our hearts longing. We mistakenly have looked at love as a need to be fulfilled.

But love is a gift given to us. We should not hold it in our hands for we may never find the strength to let it go when it decides to leave. We should only embrace its warmth and glow while it last and then freely open our arms when its time to say good-bye.

When we fall in love, we don't want that feeling to end for it is everything we are, everything we wanted to be. We pray that love will stay and grow in our hearts. But if it doesn't then we should never let our lives be taken by it, for life should not end where heartaches begin.

There is always a reason why we have to move on. When we have to say good-bye to the feeling we wanted to stay forever, let us not wave our hands with a heavy heart. For love will have to set its wings free and find the place where it belongs. We may have lost it but then again, when we close our eyes and listen to the echoes of our hearts, we will hear that feeling resounding silently forever.

Then we'll know that love never left us, for the good that we have become because of love will always stay. Love will always be there, reminding us that we should be thankful and happy not because we have lost love, but because, for once in our lives, that feeling called love lived in our hearts and made us happy.

Monday, June 23, 2014

On Truth by Aristotle


With the truth, all given facts harmonize; but with what is false, the truth soon hits a wrong note.
Aristotle

The dream of unyielding love by William G. Andrews*From" the Greenwood" by William Lisle Bowles


Emile Munier Art

A feather aloft in the air,
Carrying the dream that thwarts despair
A feather of a beautiful dove,
Bearing the dream of unyielding love,
That feather will I follow,
For my dream shall not be hollow.
William G. Andrews

Oh! when 'tis summer weather,
And the yellow bee,with fairy sound,
The waters clear is humming round,
And the cuckoo sings unseen,
And the leaves are waving green
Oh! then 'tis sweet,
In some retreat,
To hear the murmuring dove;
With those whom on earth alone we love,
And to wind through the greenwood together.
William Lisle Bowles-The Greenwood [Doves]

Butterfly by YASSER FAROUK

Saturday, June 21, 2014

MUsic:Kerry Muzzey - Waiting

Grow strong, my comrade by Will Durant


Grow strong, my comrade … that you may stand
Unshaken when I fall; that I may know
The shattered fragments of my song will come
At last to finer melody in you;
That I may tell my heart that you begin
Where passing I leave off, and fathom more.
Will Durant,from"The Story of Philosophy"

A Character by William Wordsworth


A Character
William Wordsworth

I marvel how Nature could ever find space
For so many strange contrasts in one human face:
There's thought and no thought,
and there's paleness and bloom
And bustle and sluggishness,pleasure and gloom.

There's weakness,and strength both redundant and vain;
Such strength as,if ever affliction and pain
Could pierce through a temper that's soft to disease,
Would be rational peace--a philosopher's ease.

There's indifference, alike when he fails or succeeds,
And attention full ten times as much as there needs;
Pride where there's no envy,there's so much of joy;
And mildness,and spirit both forward and coy.

There's freedom,and sometimes a diffident stare
Of shame scarcely seeming to know that she's there,
There's virtue,the title it surely may claim,
Yet wants heaven knows what to be worthy the name.

This picture from nature may seem to depart,
Yet the Man would at once run away with your heart;
And I for five centuries right gladly would be
Such an odd such a kind happy creature as he.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

dividers

http://mamietitine.centerblog.net/rub-gifs-barres-de-separation--10.html






Poetry Celebrating life,hope & Joy : Normal Day by Mary Jean Irion*Each day by Wilferd A. Peterson*Excerpts from"A Song of Joys" by Walt Whitman

Music:
Titanium/Pavane(Piano/Cello Cover)-David Guetta/Faure-ThePianoGuys


Normal Day
Mary Jean Irion

A normal day!Holding it in my hand this one last moment,
I have come to see it as more than an ordinary rock.
It is a gem, a jewel.

In time of war,in peril of death, people have dug their hands and faces into the earth and remembered this. In time of sickness and pain, people have buried their faces in pillows and wept for this.
In time of loneliness and separation,people have stretched
themselves taut and waited for this.In time of hunger,
homelessness, and want, people have raised bony hands
to the skies and stayed alive for this. . . .

Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are.
Let me learn from you,love you,bless you before you depart.
Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow.

Let me hold you while I may,for it may not always be so.
One day I shall dig my nails into the earth,or bury my face
in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands
to the sky and want more than all the world your return.
And then I will know what I am now guessing:that you are, indeed, a common rock and not a jewel, but that a common rock made of the very mass substance of the earth in all its strength and plenty puts a gem to shame.
The day is over, and now I will sleep.


Each day
Wilferd A. Peterson

Each day is a lifetime in miniature.
To awaken each morning is to be born again,
to fall asleep at night is to die to the day.
In between waking and sleeping are the golden hours
of the day.What we cannot do for a lifetime we can
do for a daytime.

"Anyone," wrote Robert Louis Stevenson,"can live sweetly, patiently, lovingly,purely,till the sun goes down."
Anyone can hold their temper for a day
and guard the words they speak.
Anyone can carry their burden heroically for one day.
Anyone can strive to be happy for a day
and to spread happiness around.
Anyone can radiate love for a day.

Anyone can rise above fear for a day and meet each new situation with courage.
Anyone can be kind and thoughtful and considerate for a day.
Anyone can endeavor to learn something new each day
and mark some growth...

The supreme art of living is to strive to live each day well...
Live a day at a time and remember that tomorrow is another today.


Look to this day!
For it is life, the very life of life.
In its brief course lie all the verities
and realities of your existence:
The bliss of growth
The glory of action
The splendor of achievement.

For yesterday is but a dream
And tomorrow is only a vision,
But today well lived makes every yesterday
a dream of happiness
And tomorrow a vision of hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day!
Such is the salutation to the dawn.
Kalidasa,Ancient Sanskrit Poem


Excerpts from"A Song of Joys"
Walt Whitman

O to make the most jubilant song!
Full of music--full of manhood, womanhood, infancy!
Full of common employments--full of grain and trees.
O for the voices of animals-O for the swiftness and balance of fishes!
O for the dropping of raindrops in a song!
O for the sunshine and motion of waves in a song!


O the joy of my spirit--it is uncaged--it darts like lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
I will have thousands of globes and all time.

O the joy of that vast elemental sympathy which only the human soul is capable of generating and emitting in steady and limitless floods.


O the mother's joys!
The watching,the endurance,the precious love,the anguish,
the patiently yielded life.

O the of increase, growth, recuperation,
The joy of soothing and pacifying,the joy of concord and harmony.


O to go back to the place where I was born,
To hear the birds sing once more,
To ramble about the house and barn
and over the fields once more,
And through the orchard and along the old lanes once more.


O the joy of my soul leaning pois'd on itself,receiving identity through materials and loving them,observing characters and absorbing them,
My soul vibrated back to me from them, from sight, hearing, touch, reason, articulation, comparison, memory,and the like,
The real life of my senses and flesh transcending my senses and flesh, my body done with materials,my sight done with my material eyes,
Proved to me this day beyond cavil that it is not my material eyes which finally see,
Nor my material body which finally loves,walks,laughs,shouts, embraces,procreates.


Yet O my soul supreme!
Knowist thou the joys of pensive thought?
Joys of the free and lonesome heart,the tender,gloomy heart?
Joys of the solitary walk,the spirit bow'd yet proud,the suffering and the struggle?
The agonistic throes,the ecstasies,joys of the solemn musings day or night?
Joys of the thought of Death,the great spheres Time and Space? Prophetic joys of better,loftier love's ideals,the divine wife,
the sweet,eternal,perfect comrade?
Joys all thine own undying one, joys worthy thee O soul.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Inspirational Quotes On Music


When I hear music, I fear no danger. I am invulnerable. I see no foe. I am related to the earliest times, and to the latest.
Henry David Thoreau

Men profess to be lovers of music, but for the most part they give no evidence in their opinions and lives that they have heard it.
Henry David Thoreau

All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets--it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza--nor that of the women's chorus; it is nearer and farther than they.
Walt Whitman

In the house of lovers,the music never stops, the walls are made of songs & the floor dances.
Rumi

It Felt Love by Hafiz


Vladimir Volegov Art

It Felt Love
Hafiz

How
Did the rose
Ever open its heart

And give to this world
All its
Beauty?

It felt the encouragement of light
Against its
Being,

Otherwise,
We all remain
Too
Frightened.

Love's Prayer by Lucy Maud Montgomery


Andrei Belichenko Art

Love's Prayer
Lucy Maud Montgomery

Beloved, this the heart I offer thee
Is purified from old idolatry,
From outworn hopes,and from the lingering stain
Of passion's dregs,by penitential pain.

Take thou it,then,and fill it up for me
With thine unstinted love, and it shall be
An earthy chalice that is made divine
By its red draught of sacramental wine.

Friday, June 13, 2014

On Attachement & Letting go By Pema Chödrön


We are like children building a sand castle. We embellish it with beautiful shells,bits of driftwood, and pieces of colored glass. The castle is ours, off limits to others. We’re willing to attack if others threaten to hurt it. Yet despite all our attachment,we know that the tide will inevitably come in and sweep the sand castle away. The trick is to enjoy it fully but without clinging, and when the time comes,let it dissolve back into the sea.
Pema Chödrön,When Things Fall Apart

The Essence Of Truth by Victor Hugo


It is the essence of truth that it is never excessive.Why should it exaggerate? There is that which should be destroyed and that which should be simply illuminated and studied. How great is the force of benevolent and searching examination! We must not resort to the flame where only light is required.
Victor Hugo

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

Inspirational mystical poetry Of Hafiz on Spirituality,Love & Friendship

Music:
Gabriel FAURE: Pavane


I am a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath
moves through,listen to this music.

I am the concert from the mouth of every creature,
singing with the myriad chorus.

I am a hole in a flute that the Christ’s breath
moves through,listen to this music.
Hafiz


I wish I could speak like music
Hafiz

I wish I could speak like music.

I wish I could put the swaying splendor
Of the fields into words
So that you could hold Truth
Against your body
And dance.

I am trying the best I can
With this crude brush,the tongue,
To cover you with light.

I wish I could speak like divine music.
I want to give you the sublime rhythms
Of this earth and the sky's limbs
As they joyously spin and surrender,

Surrender
Against Beloved's luminous breath.
Hafiz wants you to hold me
Against your precious
Body
And dance,
Dance.


Moon Language
Hafiz
Admit something:

Everyone you see, you say to them,
“Love me.”

Of course you do not do this out loud;
Otherwise,
Someone would call the cops.

Still though, think about this,
This great pull in us
To connect.

Why not become the one
Who lives with a full moon in each eye
That is always saying,

With that sweet moon
Language,

What every other eye in this world
Is dying to
Hear.

What
We speak
Hafiz

What
We speak
Becomes the house we live in.

Who will want to sleep in your bed
If the roof leaks
Right above
It?

Look what happens when the tongue
Cannot say to kindness,

“I will be your slave.”

The moon
Covers her face with both hands

And can't bear
To look.


Narrow the Difference....
Hafiz

When I play my lute,
The invisible ones call a conference,

And the angels travel far knowing
A rare entertainment will soon take place.

When I play my drum, my notes become so real
The winged ones throw saddles upon them;
An outrageous holy rodeo begins.

No one has ever sat with Hafiz
And not left for the better.

No one can read my poems out loud
In a tender, loving voice
And not narrow the difference,
Not narrow the gap,
Between you and God.

I have many younger brothers and sisters
Scattered upon this earth.

There are always friends of God in this world.
Find one and offer service.
For their glance is generous and cannot help
but forever give.

When Hafiz plays his lute,
My notes ascend into the air and form
Infinite blue crystals

That will move on the wind's breath for hundreds of years
As my sacred debris, as the divine dust
Rising as a gift from my
singing bones.


Build a House for Men and Birds....
Hafiz

You have taken root in the Beloved
I love your golden branches

And the hundred graceful movements
Your body now makes each time
The wind, children and love
Come near.

Build a house for men and birds.
Sit with them - play music.
For a day, for just one day,
Talk about that which disturbs no one

And bring some peace into your
Beautiful eyes.
Why play notes from your soft mouth-flute
That hurt the Blue Sky's ear?

The Friend has such exquisite taste
That every time you bow to Him
Your mind will become lighter and more
Refined;
Your spirit will prepare its voice to laugh
In an outrageous freedom.

You have taken root in our Beloved.
I love your emerald branches
And the hundred ways your heart does dance
Every time you discover God is so pleased
Because His hands are always playing catch
With your soul.

We all cook together around a fire
Our Yearning music builds.
We share our tools and instruments and plates;
We are companions on this earth
As the sun and planets are in the sky.

We are all sentries at our sacred humble posts.
The stones and stars envy the movements
Of your legs and tongue
And call to you to sing on their behalf.

The atoms in your cells and limbs are full of
wonderful talents;
They dance in the Hidden Choir I conduct.
Don't sleep tonight, dear pilgrim,
So I can lead you on my white mare to His summer
House.

This Love you now have of the Truth
Will never forsake you.

Your joys and sufferings on this arduous path
Are lifting your worn veil like a rising stage
curtain
And will surely reveal your Magnificent Self

So that you can guide this world like Hafiz
In the Hidden Choir
God and His friends will forever
Conduct.


Nydia Lozano Art

So You Can Plant More Wheat.....
Hafiz

I would like to remove some rock
from your field
so that you can plant more wheat.

And those hills I see that are part of you,
I have some trees in mind for them
and flowering grasses,

so that you won’t erode,
when the elements pour.

Are we not lovers?
Cannot I speak to you like this?

Do I need to ask your permission
to hitch up my ox
and sing to him as I improve
your vast terrain?

The title to your heart came to my office.
In looking at it a great interest
in your soul developed.
The care of your soul
became mine.

So I would like to remove some stones
from your meadows;
then an orchard you could grow,

and the world,
and the world then,
will come to taste
your riches.

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