tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21777633530758291012024-02-19T08:42:20.100-08:00WrittensJenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-51669312476252214832022-08-09T17:37:00.011-07:002022-08-09T18:31:22.614-07:00ALICE IN ANALYSIS<p>
</p><div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CBB8u6IAPWAp5HNMh5fLSDvj6u2JIBB608btGcDi_-FASptpAc1paTR1tszzpjkdFUtrVpAcbUB8GMnGxTzzmHl_hWeaXQ9fvyQinAm2LJypSOWYm79FOARGe8xEo8qPA-WmKucE9ubTLBx_szFIj04jJIjWUzniea6o4v5ZzZiGhV3h1rMfhzC3/s206/147643077_1314439625592818_8477423269288073592_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="206" data-original-width="206" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CBB8u6IAPWAp5HNMh5fLSDvj6u2JIBB608btGcDi_-FASptpAc1paTR1tszzpjkdFUtrVpAcbUB8GMnGxTzzmHl_hWeaXQ9fvyQinAm2LJypSOWYm79FOARGe8xEo8qPA-WmKucE9ubTLBx_szFIj04jJIjWUzniea6o4v5ZzZiGhV3h1rMfhzC3/s1600/147643077_1314439625592818_8477423269288073592_n.jpg" width="206" /></a></div><br /><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">"...the Rabbit was no longer to be seen: she found herself in a
long, low hall, which was lit up by a row of lamps hanging from the
roof.</span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">There were doors all round the hall, but they were all locked; and
when Alice had been all the way down one side and up the other, trying
every door, she walked sadly down the middle, wondering how she was ever
to get out again." - <u>Alice in Wonderland</u></span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"><u> </u></span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> "I have to know," said Alice, stubbing out her cigarette. "What
was behind all those locked doors lining the hall, after I went down the
rabbit hole, and the Rabbit disappeared on me? They couldn't<i> all </i>be
toilets."</span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Dr. Ludwig nodded, gazing at her intently, as though the answers to
her questions were to be found in her solemn, brooding face. Alice had
been coming to him for over a year now. Together they had been working
through that wonder-filled dream, yielding a rich mother lode of
insights. </span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">"Why were they locked?" she went on. "Who locked them? What secrets were they hiding?"</span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">"Remember, Alice, " he replied, "everything in our dreams is an
aspect of ourselves. So what does that bring up for you--locked doors?"</span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">She fell silent, thinking. The minutes stretched out. She groped
for another cigarette, but he stopped her. "Don't smoke.<i> Feel</i>."</span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">"I don't <i>know </i>what I feel," she said plaintively. He nodded and waited.</span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Finally she sighed, and he knew they were getting somewhere. "All
right," she said. "The locked doors are in me. They are doorways to
parts of me I don't like, or am afraid to express. So I've locked them
away." She paused to consider, and went on:<br />
"Behind one door, I am like the White Rabbit--worrying, hurrying,
fearful, social climber...behind another door, I'm the Queen of
Hearts--intolerant, bossy, drama queen, ordering heads cut off. I've
cut off friends when I was pissed at them." Alice looked down, shame
flickering in her face. "Another door leads to the part of me that's
like the Caterpillar--wanting to go deeper, to know '<b>who are you</b>'
beyond appearances. That's the problem I have with social media. I'd
prefer Psychebook over Facebook!</span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Behind another door, there's me as
Cheshire Cat. Sometimes I think I am the only one who understands we
are all mad here and the world is one big insane asylum! Still working
on the disappearing act. It would be so cool to just leave my grin.
That would really get people's attention!" She grinned at Dr. Budwig, and he chuckled. <br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">She paused again, thinking, feeling. "All these personas sure make
the question of '<b>Who am I</b>' a lot more complicated. Which is the real
me? Which is the real world? Is Wonderland my true home?" </span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"> </span></div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">
</span><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;">Dr. Ludwig listened with rapt attention as she went on detailing
her insights. There was so much still to be uncovered. At each
session, he was all too willing to follow her down those rabbit holes,
to help her look for the keys to all those locked doors. He hadn't told
her, of course, but she was in fact inspiring him, more and more, to
unlock the doors of his own dreams, and explore the revelations
therein--like the dragon that reared up in his dream last night, so reminiscent of the Jabberwock. The
jaws that bite, the claws that catch...where was the snicker-snacking
vorpal sword when he needed it? </span></div><div><span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br />
Lucid dreaming could be next. And some day, perhaps, they would finally figure out how a raven is like a writing desk...</span></div>
</div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-45108743192074981752022-05-18T14:48:00.002-07:002022-05-18T14:48:46.333-07:00 Two Flying Fish Flew<p><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> </span></p><p><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> </span></p><p><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> </span></p><p><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSC2aHF0TpYG892RyazymPahwZtfGDkWG78Mm-og__Z2KTbLQuSiGRsZO1H4SIyx6aMWYjcmKTEyyKtCPhUm1rnocVSQIkafPWEApipiE-XneBsr94_Pkkzqtu44pwupKsu42QBNZRZFi2u1_FAtYoEJUgzT4CpKR_T5LBVgFOTF1W3v5kpgAJgxX/s2048/flying%20high%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1488" data-original-width="2048" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNSC2aHF0TpYG892RyazymPahwZtfGDkWG78Mm-og__Z2KTbLQuSiGRsZO1H4SIyx6aMWYjcmKTEyyKtCPhUm1rnocVSQIkafPWEApipiE-XneBsr94_Pkkzqtu44pwupKsu42QBNZRZFi2u1_FAtYoEJUgzT4CpKR_T5LBVgFOTF1W3v5kpgAJgxX/s320/flying%20high%201.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;">Two flying fish flew<br />
way up to the moon.<br />
Her eyes were so soft,<br />
her lipstick so blue.<br />
"Thank you for coming!"<br />
she said so politely.<br />
"Thank you for having us," </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #8e7cc3;"> they answered so rightly.<br />
"Greatest journey a fishie ever could take!"<br />
They bid her goodbye, they told her, "Shine on," <br />
And glided back down to swim in their lake.</span></p>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-75851295514481620472022-05-14T17:10:00.004-07:002022-05-14T17:10:56.620-07:00The Owlet Speaks<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
each moment new you</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
each moment you new</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
each moment, who you?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
each moment, you who?</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
WHO? WHO?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmT3UyHUm1bMfYftNmo7UvXJg8vukHN7vuXhPhr-x74N6af2dj6HlvGP1U_IqAhcS5h7QJQip4LKznxBcOsRgGlOyOx1kLMc_Cf1i1RyseYZouJCpadPMYw9q2-ngqZGFEWnaoGkM4vs/s1600/Funny+Owl+Wallpapers+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJmT3UyHUm1bMfYftNmo7UvXJg8vukHN7vuXhPhr-x74N6af2dj6HlvGP1U_IqAhcS5h7QJQip4LKznxBcOsRgGlOyOx1kLMc_Cf1i1RyseYZouJCpadPMYw9q2-ngqZGFEWnaoGkM4vs/s320/Funny+Owl+Wallpapers+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-60764448105470339862021-10-07T23:46:00.004-07:002021-10-23T15:46:37.318-07:0012 Ways To Look in the Mirror<p> <span style="color: #a64d79;">My son Ben was assigned to come up with 12 ways to look in the mirror for his acting class, this is what he wrote. </span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"><br />
12 Ways Exercise<br />
<br />
Activity: Looking in the mirror.<br />
<br />
1. I walk into the bathroom, sniff the cigarette smoke that is
wafting in through the window from the aprtment below me. I turn to look
in the mirror, and see a sunbleached wasteland, large creatures
lumbering and moaning stampede past. My heatbeat slows, then
accelerates. I lean forward to get a better look, resting my hands on
the wall to either side of the medicine cabinet, then, disbelieving, I
open the door of the cabinet and check the back of the mirror with my
hand. I close the door and stare, rapt, into this strange world.<br />
<br />
2. I step into the bathroom, feeling odd, and look into the mirror.
My breathing is heavy and I am unsteady on my feet. As I look at myself,
I suddenly realize that I am growing younger, my face is becoming
softer. I rub my head and feel my hair, and then look down at my hands,
as they begin to shrink inward, hairs retracting back into my body. I
look back in the mirror and can see myself physically growing shorter
and my head gradually sinks below the bottom edge of the mirror. I fall
over and begin to curl up, catching my feet in the loose clothing that
swims around me, feeling the cold tile under my belly, I begin to cry in
a tiny baby’s voice.<br />
<br />
3. I walk into the bathroom, I’m
walking very evenly and carefully, as if I am balancing something. My
head is three times bigger than normal. I’m not concerned, this was just
the way I was born. I stand in front of the mirror, and my head begins
to loll to one side alarmingly, and I grab my head with my hands and
straighten it on my shoulders. I rub my cheek, scratch my nose, grab a
comb and being brushing my hair back. I have to reach up as high as I
can to comb the top of my head, and it is always in danger of tipping
over to one side, so I have to continually be catching it with one hand
or the other. I smile in the mirror, and head off to work with a bounce
in my step.<br />
<br />
4. I walk into the bathroom and begin to shave,
looking in the mirror. “hey, lookin’ good, oh yeah.” I begin rinsing the razor in the sink when I hear a voice
close by. I look up, and listen, my head cocked. I walk out of the
bathroom and into my small apartment, but there’s nothing. Then I hear
something again, coming from inside the bathroom. I walk back in and
say “hello?” I hear a response, coming from the mirror. “what?” I say,
as I turn to the mirror, looking intently at my own reflection “who are
you?” I say, leaning my weight on the sink. “You can’t be me, I’m me” I
reply, putting hand onto my chest. “That’s not true!” I reply angrily,
and then I turn and face the wall. “This is crazy, something’s happening
to me!” Then I whirl-- “You,” I point my finger at the mirror, “don’t
say that about my mom!” I put my face in my hands. “Oh my god, you’re so
mean!” Then I get angry and move in close to the mirror. “I’m going to
smash you to bits!” It grabs me by my throat, choking me. I scrabble at the sides of the medicine cabinet, and grab the
reflection’s wrist, I finally pull free, gasping. I run out of the
bathroom and slam the door behind me. Then I sit and catch my breath. I
pull my cell phone out of my pocket, and call dial a number “Hello? are
you there? Please pick up, doc... its happening again...”<br />
<br />
5.
I’m the richest man in the universe, I slide down into my bathroom,
where a butler stands, holding up a mirror. I trot over to the mirror,
and stand while I am shaved, combed and powdered by Tunisian triplets. I
turn my head back and forth as they rub my face with aftershave,
sleepily observing what is happening. When they stop fussing over me, I
mess up my hair with my hands, and run off hooting.<br />
<br />
6. I look
in the mirror, but it is only me, looking back at myself. I stand
there, arms outstretched, hands resting on the wall, staring right into
my own eyes, looking at myself looking at myself. Then I laugh, because
it’s not me at all, it’s just someone who looks like me. I stare at the
other guy who looks like me. But it actually it is me I realize, so I
laugh again, this time louder. It was me all along! Then I look at
myself again. My hands slip and I fall face first into the mirror. I’m
very very drunk.<br />
<br />
7. I go to comb my hair while looking in the
mirror, and the comb escapes, running up my shoulder and leaping onto
the floor. I spin around and slam the door of the bathroom so it can’t
get out, then I bend over, holding a newspaper. “Hey, it’s ok,” I say
soothingly as I reach under the back of the toilet to grab the comb. But
it’s too quick for me. It leaps in the air, scrabbling around on the
smooth surface of the tub. I pull back the shower curtain, smiling as I
watch it try to get out of the tub, wild-eyed. It just looks so silly.<br />
<br />
8.I stand looking at the mirror, then I wave my wand at my face and
cry “Beardicus Grownicious!” Instantly, a beard
begins to sprout from my face. “Ooh,” I say, as I reach up to my face and
feel the hair streaming out of my face. As the beard gets bigger and
bigger, my eyes widen with horror. I wave the wand at my face, but it
gets caught in the growing hair and gets knocked from my grasp, carried
away by a giant river of hair that is roaring out of my face. "No!” I cry. The hair fills up the room and forces me up
against the wall. “Stopicus grownicious” I cry weakly. Then I’m saved by
Harry Potter.<br />
<br />
9. I’m incredibly old, I’m bent over, my head
is a shrunken raisin, all squinched up, and I slowly,
carefully walk over to the bathroom, resting my weight on the wall, then
the doorknob, then the sink. “Woo,” I say, as I rub my hip. I look into
the mirror, squinting. Then I pull out my glasses, carefully rubbing
them with a cloth I keep in my breast pocket. Then I put them on, look
in the mirror and squint again. “Looking good!” I smile a
toothless grin, and then slowly begin shuffling out of the bathroom.<br />
<br />
10. I’m a tiny baby kid, I’m full of energy. I run around in a
circle 3 times, making plane noises. Then I run
into the bathroom. I look up at the mirror, but it’s too high. I run out
and grab my toybox, and begin pulling it into the bathroom. It’s very
heavy, and I have to lean my whole weight into pulling it. I finally get
it in the bathroom, and clamber up on top of it. I look at myself
somberly, and then make a hideous face, involving my tongue and my
cheeks, but I can’t hold it because I'm laughing so hard. <br />
<br />
11. I try to look in the mirror, but it’s so dirty. I squint and
move my head this way and that, but all I see is a greasy shimmer. I
spray some Windex all over the mirror and begin wiping it down. I wipe
it all over, up and down, round and round, I spray even more Windex on
it, and wipe some more. Then I throw the dirty paper towel into the
trash and look into the mirror. Then I walk away.<br />
<br />
12. I look in the mirror, but I think it’s another fish, so I bump my head against it for the rest of my life.
</span></p>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-74024739793761891632018-10-06T10:22:00.001-07:002018-10-06T10:48:11.859-07:00New Stuff<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCLqTfPM_TyiVruGjpopAWATAgQ9G7bL1MXJcp8ZOmZXFHXrwfZUuh8xxmS6lHOBigqGHR28DGwanm1cxZ6WVmi1OeKhmLKFZMqc7tQsBv7-l-sCZfJnsethOc3Hf7pcrr2QHyjKm43I/s1600/ghost+fish+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">The Green-Eyed Ghost Fish Family<img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1164" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCLqTfPM_TyiVruGjpopAWATAgQ9G7bL1MXJcp8ZOmZXFHXrwfZUuh8xxmS6lHOBigqGHR28DGwanm1cxZ6WVmi1OeKhmLKFZMqc7tQsBv7-l-sCZfJnsethOc3Hf7pcrr2QHyjKm43I/s320/ghost+fish+2.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhph04iRxMyYeGPf1N8BVlRRPTwpxkzrHeUbUKwhrrujRALX4QK-ADgN4DCa6wi8RlNzEHumHztaIWfQR8vGmnYAmHiSPRTLawcsRHT3itgXEA1f7y3ISYD4BZAwbR8HlH-Sxs7bSGVMV8/s1600/feeling+blue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">Feeling Blue <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1164" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhph04iRxMyYeGPf1N8BVlRRPTwpxkzrHeUbUKwhrrujRALX4QK-ADgN4DCa6wi8RlNzEHumHztaIWfQR8vGmnYAmHiSPRTLawcsRHT3itgXEA1f7y3ISYD4BZAwbR8HlH-Sxs7bSGVMV8/s320/feeling+blue.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-45589751320342355852018-10-06T10:15:00.001-07:002018-10-06T10:15:18.096-07:00My Wild Irish Heart<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdupK4W-CzrWSpyR5468mLBLUCWzZhYJLfE4w9CwUuAL9_SkOKvw9aKsa42Lw021ODhhzmCC1pbu-GpEd6D9zx3_qhjsezQQJMqRv4E71YFiy0D4aOfQhVucxs7VAEDWXy9-nGxUgPWA/s1600/heart2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1286" data-original-width="1600" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdupK4W-CzrWSpyR5468mLBLUCWzZhYJLfE4w9CwUuAL9_SkOKvw9aKsa42Lw021ODhhzmCC1pbu-GpEd6D9zx3_qhjsezQQJMqRv4E71YFiy0D4aOfQhVucxs7VAEDWXy9-nGxUgPWA/s320/heart2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-6726103117260739212018-03-09T15:44:00.001-08:002018-03-09T15:44:19.255-08:00The Merry Tree<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkXrs_u1Px89pOS9mPxbdSNtLoJZoEv98vZOqiNFClQFKDnLqFgTg7jxcNaWdYrqUGb_p0xIc566SDASdC65A0TVx54ociutIrHBUXjHJeXiYP16XI3fOvs4vXcaYoIyh1w1rienIzNs/s1600/merrytree3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="700" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRkXrs_u1Px89pOS9mPxbdSNtLoJZoEv98vZOqiNFClQFKDnLqFgTg7jxcNaWdYrqUGb_p0xIc566SDASdC65A0TVx54ociutIrHBUXjHJeXiYP16XI3fOvs4vXcaYoIyh1w1rienIzNs/s320/merrytree3.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-47387155001838752042018-03-09T15:40:00.003-08:002018-03-09T15:40:54.450-08:00A Boy and His Bird<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ig4jGh90-AzpAp-KhxYI1yfFIAh7JEC_MmhvB-2y2JwvoZBd31XH_hUgrJuSbTkuZrc3_yI121hyBEkOSg6zh2d9ENS6dlFWCeAroJofkMZ6aEDdnkz7SksVpT8ETwm7PjSO7-QclcI/s1600/boyandbird.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1091" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ig4jGh90-AzpAp-KhxYI1yfFIAh7JEC_MmhvB-2y2JwvoZBd31XH_hUgrJuSbTkuZrc3_yI121hyBEkOSg6zh2d9ENS6dlFWCeAroJofkMZ6aEDdnkz7SksVpT8ETwm7PjSO7-QclcI/s320/boyandbird.jpg" width="218" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-2197623280577749292018-03-09T15:39:00.001-08:002018-03-09T15:39:41.264-08:00Divine Chaos<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhmpOQ4AcpbgIcUYqrPuOnXTAVlftILZBJZ76qyyf-KxR9joREABVIgyku8E9LeybGzKoysjgi-gaD9LEwLN4NMCfFzyU11Dgl3g34xaVbbVEGDBU7coOZyMw_-BKpyibqwd_hc4Rgf4/s1600/divinechaos.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1164" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhmpOQ4AcpbgIcUYqrPuOnXTAVlftILZBJZ76qyyf-KxR9joREABVIgyku8E9LeybGzKoysjgi-gaD9LEwLN4NMCfFzyU11Dgl3g34xaVbbVEGDBU7coOZyMw_-BKpyibqwd_hc4Rgf4/s320/divinechaos.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-82768848272619784502017-12-15T17:22:00.001-08:002017-12-15T17:22:25.122-08:00Yin Yang Tunnel<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZ4TVvauuOrDMir-SfSgGbIY90d8jSFO9Hh8I05R-9IzA4Uu3gw3BeIUiVyxf10Ioooqp5Km8qeBHnvTPZY4AiIGVlMLxRvW1ihriiT6yXbU1qIz3KKa9Lr0_uIYtgFLprTbDuLlT-t8/s1600/yin+yang+tunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1158" data-original-width="1600" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZ4TVvauuOrDMir-SfSgGbIY90d8jSFO9Hh8I05R-9IzA4Uu3gw3BeIUiVyxf10Ioooqp5Km8qeBHnvTPZY4AiIGVlMLxRvW1ihriiT6yXbU1qIz3KKa9Lr0_uIYtgFLprTbDuLlT-t8/s320/yin+yang+tunnel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-70215569913171600132017-12-15T17:20:00.001-08:002017-12-15T17:20:25.880-08:00Let There Be Light<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdL79T8BRnivZEAP3ITJwOmNAK7FHqArrPK3IhRscUf2ZOGXOduaaVq7N3OfdGX7loRbAwd7RclZ_ueZI6rHTmEnix2yfCD0feAWhFptxbaCsM_LsSGM-1ULkZrh37-GScjq14nYoakBE/s1600/let+there+be+light.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="1600" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdL79T8BRnivZEAP3ITJwOmNAK7FHqArrPK3IhRscUf2ZOGXOduaaVq7N3OfdGX7loRbAwd7RclZ_ueZI6rHTmEnix2yfCD0feAWhFptxbaCsM_LsSGM-1ULkZrh37-GScjq14nYoakBE/s320/let+there+be+light.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-16095745359523180442017-12-15T17:16:00.001-08:002017-12-15T17:16:34.125-08:00Lucifer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO1aOhhQgTfKVtfbBAVPbygBPbbgBwnwyyVix3dSbKly0SX1k1xvOvPoRx6MfkXYTb2VXvLOQqKOB2TgeCBf5AdUUzKVJmV48LYhAcpRqODcwVVdrFM4xfEuzVHC8P_LWgzbBMdc0oiY/s1600/Lucifer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1164" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiO1aOhhQgTfKVtfbBAVPbygBPbbgBwnwyyVix3dSbKly0SX1k1xvOvPoRx6MfkXYTb2VXvLOQqKOB2TgeCBf5AdUUzKVJmV48LYhAcpRqODcwVVdrFM4xfEuzVHC8P_LWgzbBMdc0oiY/s320/Lucifer.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-44528075104165693852017-12-15T17:13:00.001-08:002017-12-15T17:13:21.138-08:00Spirit of the Puddle<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MQ1D7RV-XMAfmDZy_twCxboPwqlvVRMhKj2PHljcnBimRYt45nyaIbuki8XZ1C5A1m45v4L4I89Qnv8pr3_5xT9kBtY-RoJqSWV8Q2ngXOuY1QAHyJvGbj7hEeMniRqdK6cUp7bcSq0/s1600/puddle+guy+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1164" data-original-width="1600" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1MQ1D7RV-XMAfmDZy_twCxboPwqlvVRMhKj2PHljcnBimRYt45nyaIbuki8XZ1C5A1m45v4L4I89Qnv8pr3_5xT9kBtY-RoJqSWV8Q2ngXOuY1QAHyJvGbj7hEeMniRqdK6cUp7bcSq0/s320/puddle+guy+2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-77999210857830012822017-08-07T01:47:00.002-07:002017-08-07T01:47:56.409-07:00New Haikus<span style="color: #e69138;">Aging, death--so what?<br /> We are eternal beings...<br /> wrap your mind around!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"> Cooperation,<br /> the way onward and upward...<br /> not competition</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">"What does it all <i>mean</i>?" </span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">Question asked with tongue in cheek</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;">got some good answers </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"> You may buy into<br /> "That was then and this is now..."<br /> In truth, it's all NOW</span><br />
<span style="color: #e69138;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #e69138;">These dying roses<br /> still emit a sweet fragrance...<br /> I can't throw them out</span>Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-33844382067275814892017-08-06T23:43:00.000-07:002017-08-06T23:43:00.830-07:00DREAM WORLD<span style="color: #93c47d;">Poem I wrote, inspired by the quote below it. </span><br />
<span style="color: #93c47d;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #93c47d;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #93c47d;"> We are dreaming our world,<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> we are the producers, the actors,<br /> and writers, leading ourselves ever deeper.<br /> The dreamer dreams, and the dreamer<br /> within the dream dreams.<br /> These dream plays are a maze, an amaze,<br /> a play within a play within a play,<br /> a journey of learning and going within<br /> without end, fraught with meaning<br /> and significance. The All of you is watching,<br /> and lo, is donning many roles,<br /> incognito.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<span style="color: #93c47d;">
"Humanity dreams the same dream at once, and you have your mass world.
The whole construction is like an educational play in which you are the
producers as well as the actors. There is a play within a play within a
play. There is no end to the 'within' of things. The dreamer dreams, and
the dreamer within the dream dreams. But the dreams are not
meaningless, and the actions within them are significant. The whole self
is the observer and also a participator in the roles."</span></div>
Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-88340795900296166412017-07-18T19:00:00.000-07:002017-07-18T19:00:23.344-07:00Oh Moon So Bright<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHT44pyeP4r08oPfWCi_QBegco_aptOo1ZW2o1oCXiVfzEyzLDp8m5j40QylFMPxfQQyMBqTq-4vrt3Ww48n8_PDL2YmNVIFjqcqY8oAMYEQJ-26Bgp-JsDBGkAyUgyFbovOBMF0rFRs/s1600/moonshine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="1600" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuHT44pyeP4r08oPfWCi_QBegco_aptOo1ZW2o1oCXiVfzEyzLDp8m5j40QylFMPxfQQyMBqTq-4vrt3Ww48n8_PDL2YmNVIFjqcqY8oAMYEQJ-26Bgp-JsDBGkAyUgyFbovOBMF0rFRs/s320/moonshine.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-16922211569916395182017-07-18T18:02:00.000-07:002017-07-19T10:39:16.239-07:00To STEVIE<br />
<br />
<br />
Still I can see you<br />
in the eye of my mind, <br />
lying on the bed of your death.<br />
You were eleven, I was twelve,<br />
and we had entered<br />
an unknown land. <br />
You were there but not with us,<br />
breath receding,<br />
eyes closed, heavy-lidded,<br />
as your distraught mother spooned cereal<br />
down your throat.<br />
“How can he swallow<br />
if he’s asleep?” I asked, <br />
and she said: “It’s automatic.”<br />
The flame that had leapt<br />
high as the sky<br />
was guttering out, <br />
and when I learned, the next day,<br />
of your passing,<br />
I threw myself on my bed, crying<br />
as I never had before,<br />
great racking sobs.<br />
Oh friend of my childhood,<br />
still I can see you<br />
in the eye of my mind, <br />
your smiling face<br />
beaming bright as the sun,<br />
running and playing,<br />
calling me forth<br />
to do the same,<br />
to be the keeper<br />
always, forever,<br />
of my flame. Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-75606797242050486222017-05-06T14:55:00.001-07:002017-05-06T14:55:33.027-07:00Party Time<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWHz97RvXaAq0igOQpgdQ_iXbheST0vPM3rFCsFU7I92I93hQluKH9SxC4AUIDpU7-4oJRgBE5gbyGkJEXWsQ_BVlSFhyphenhyphenQlRV3oM-cNWKzmHIFegDw4dyCwzO1YWxqjxANEnE7TOiXSM/s1600/theparty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiWHz97RvXaAq0igOQpgdQ_iXbheST0vPM3rFCsFU7I92I93hQluKH9SxC4AUIDpU7-4oJRgBE5gbyGkJEXWsQ_BVlSFhyphenhyphenQlRV3oM-cNWKzmHIFegDw4dyCwzO1YWxqjxANEnE7TOiXSM/s320/theparty.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-48749587993234954812017-01-10T15:03:00.000-08:002017-01-10T15:03:12.967-08:00Eye in the Sky<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8RfY9P-rt1v5IIq5PxRmR1jUX46AZ2ijpnUNfZwN110R2TSArj5BCSWzWXOI8vQf-0amlHdHLOSpmkJXSp-eSaBmpg6GQ5644TWwom350wdMEFI0OFH3EPXiAQJfCuWgZuhzwloH7Pw/s1600/eyeinsky1pg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW8RfY9P-rt1v5IIq5PxRmR1jUX46AZ2ijpnUNfZwN110R2TSArj5BCSWzWXOI8vQf-0amlHdHLOSpmkJXSp-eSaBmpg6GQ5644TWwom350wdMEFI0OFH3EPXiAQJfCuWgZuhzwloH7Pw/s320/eyeinsky1pg.jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-35438466062279840762016-12-31T13:15:00.001-08:002016-12-31T13:15:28.350-08:00Watching, Waiting...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4rmfHrktpvxfYONFAiVWhySxn3oMBP3V_4bx6KCgX8Ywym8CL4BoNpQRfrblysSKwBbypmRb6UnC-eT06m_WxIXTXjOcBoJ3d6UhdGj7MckrgLEejix0QPPgCx8xWobx281xC6CLGGU/s1600/Mr.Heron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM4rmfHrktpvxfYONFAiVWhySxn3oMBP3V_4bx6KCgX8Ywym8CL4BoNpQRfrblysSKwBbypmRb6UnC-eT06m_WxIXTXjOcBoJ3d6UhdGj7MckrgLEejix0QPPgCx8xWobx281xC6CLGGU/s320/Mr.Heron.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-29380480607809887792016-11-10T23:50:00.002-08:002016-11-10T23:50:43.566-08:00Face in Space<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgianiwZ5Lz0LWh7lp7h-uZExfG0PwRKTvvsMq_JV-QaksCFihpLgZzUjJ3v8q4lLvhyXMMg5DVYYOR5oygsrd6MsMYW0C96BQ3pAZpl7-5cZ2x3iZpi8Tp99atAF_8b3TE3liy8WjAPUs/s1600/faceinspace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgianiwZ5Lz0LWh7lp7h-uZExfG0PwRKTvvsMq_JV-QaksCFihpLgZzUjJ3v8q4lLvhyXMMg5DVYYOR5oygsrd6MsMYW0C96BQ3pAZpl7-5cZ2x3iZpi8Tp99atAF_8b3TE3liy8WjAPUs/s320/faceinspace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-77692153732394227432016-09-06T10:46:00.001-07:002016-09-06T10:46:16.788-07:00Fireball<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOJgl0MKRmpkSH4QVTB9xuNhfe-T3o_uKC6EgnbeInE64ErYZvJeXRHb1ePuFppM-6HwMUUEyMvOMS7rM15IGAm2ZJVuWFYbxcxbq48g3f1bhjTrQCyNf6QFxK5IU5pv0p1FBZDOIS5A/s1600/fireball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPOJgl0MKRmpkSH4QVTB9xuNhfe-T3o_uKC6EgnbeInE64ErYZvJeXRHb1ePuFppM-6HwMUUEyMvOMS7rM15IGAm2ZJVuWFYbxcxbq48g3f1bhjTrQCyNf6QFxK5IU5pv0p1FBZDOIS5A/s320/fireball.jpg" width="250" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-44765874793015861252016-09-06T10:45:00.001-07:002016-09-06T10:45:13.508-07:00Flowering<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-78673923044950447722016-09-06T10:41:00.000-07:002016-09-06T10:41:06.188-07:00Eye of the Soul<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3bH3y4yA-1CbvpFBeX4aNSbPMBLSxs6zSTjSdhHiVjZuBrF1MZjK6lQ9-SmP2M1B8WStBsCPZ7IpVKVkvEg4UzxJSolb5rdxLOCQRH6plIX_Ni6DRTxu6zoJ0h9h3KqhC2I6LfM5kqY/s1600/eye+exist2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ3bH3y4yA-1CbvpFBeX4aNSbPMBLSxs6zSTjSdhHiVjZuBrF1MZjK6lQ9-SmP2M1B8WStBsCPZ7IpVKVkvEg4UzxJSolb5rdxLOCQRH6plIX_Ni6DRTxu6zoJ0h9h3KqhC2I6LfM5kqY/s320/eye+exist2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2177763353075829101.post-2856672377943441902016-09-06T10:38:00.001-07:002016-09-06T10:38:55.320-07:00Spaces Between<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Jenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02742026436206221165noreply@blogger.com0