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In so many of our normal conversations we play it safe because we’re scared of being rejected and judged. We’re reluctant to become more honest and so more vulnerable, because we’ve been scorned when we did so in the past. But sometimes when we take a courageous step, and reveal ourselves in a more real way, something new can be born, the kind of trust that changes us. That transformation through trust gives us a sense of what faith involves. Faith means going beyond our own hesitations and tentativeness in order to embark on a journey of trust.
--WISDOM
AT THE
CROSSROADS THE LIFE & THOUGHT OF
MICHAEL PAUL GALLAGHER SJ, THOMAS G. CASEY SJ
At the beginning of the new millennium, he was giving a summer course in New York’s Fordham University, and living in a room in the Jesuit community on campus. One day he stepped into the elevator that would take him from the basement to the third floor. He pushed the ‘3’ button, the doors closed, but the elevator didn’t move. He tried again, and again nothing happened. Button ‘2’ didn’t work either. Feeling a mounting sense of panic, Michael Paul was about to press the alarm bell, but decided first to try the final button, button ‘4’. To his immense relief, the elevator clicked into motion and brought him to the fourth storey, from where he walked down to the floor below. Later, as he recounted this incident at dinner, his companions looked at him in surprise and said, ‘Don’t you have the key?’ Taking out his bunch of keys, he noticed for the first time a tiny key on the keyring. It was the key he needed to gain access to the community floors. He was in possession of the key, but didn’t know he had it.
--WISDOM
AT THE
CROSSROADS THE LIFE & THOUGHT OF
MICHAEL PAUL GALLAGHER SJ, THOMAS G. CASEY SJ
good to hold and smell
but then that rose begins to die
and you go through hell
One thing you should know my friends
is that love can scorn
and just like life
every rose has it's thorns.
but as the rose you hold
withers and fades away
another rose has appererred
and your pains is taken away
This cycle of life
no one will ever know
why we would fight amongst ourself
for that one single rose
And even though we try
to let our pain go
we can't do it
without that rose ..
Whilst driving around Northumberland with SteveMG, I was trying to work out what makes Northumberland look different from Yorkshire, and I came up with the observation that the trees were lower than in Yorkshire. This prompted much mirth and scorn from Mr Glover...."lower trees...as if" etc. well this shot proves my theory. As for the sky, well it did happen, but not neccessarily in the right order. PS I spent ages coming up with the title and so far, no appreciation of the time spent.
Mountains (James Watkins)
mountains grand and gazing-
pillars standing tall-
piercing passioned histories-
hidden in their walls.
delving downward distances-
caverns large and small-
mutant molten metal streams-
fused before the fall.
decant demon-ed destinies-
cooling chasmed halls-
dinosaurs and diamond doors
in massive mirrored malls.
heavy, heaving voices
in paradisian sprawl-
fiery fumes of purity-
creation’s curtain call.
subatomic saturation,
soiled, synthetic signs.
righteous restoration
of prehistoric crimes.
tumultuous-
tempestuous-
waning, wasted pearl-
forethought, full and fragile-
foundation of the world.
hidden in the language
of nature’s cresting yore-
cracked beneath
the stress and strain-
crumbling at the core.
tiny tidbits torn and tumbling-
wiggling in the storm-
recipes and remedies-
chemically reborn.
thickened soups and swirling haze-
brooding-steaming-scorn-
clashing reams of violent schemes-
valleys ripped and torn.
balance within balances,
scrambled eggs at last-
gushing geysered marbled mud
borne before the blast.
consciences of scientists,
syncopated scuds-
bothered by the missing mass-
baffled by the blood.
leaping lemon lizards-
the barn is nearly full-
the hay is neatly in a stack-
the baby’s come full term!
common commonalities,
full circle’s come at last.
see the story in the hills-
yield before your past.
something’s broken,
something’s missing,
something’s come and gone-
something’s at the doorway-
someone’s on the phone.
someone’s at the table-
someone’s on the floor-
someone’s grass
is full of gas-
classical-and more!
rhyming with the timing,
balancing the board-
signals of a sequenced strike,
calm before the storm.
mysteries are meaningful,
when looking at the past.
the scene is somewhat circular,
when stage is come to last.
weakened, muzzled monkeys,
dance before your lord.
the gift of grace is growing cold
squirming on sword.
commentaried cavemen,
come into the fold.
your ears can hear-
your eyes can see-
so come in from the cold.
and listen with some latitude-
to knowledge held in store.
fashioned in the faceless stone
of ancient ocean floor.
squeezed in myriad molecule,
the battle rages on-
raving reverence in reverse
its relevance reformed.
and bow before the evidence-
the courtroom is restored,
through judgment passed,
the script is cast,
in elementary score.
rain fire, you veined volcanoes-
your statement’s on the floor-
and advertise what you surmise-
from secret silent store.
you’ve waltzed in dazzled wonderment-
and touched your maker’s hand,
in timeless thought-
before the fault-
and listened to the plan.
to bring all things to unity-
from eons vile and vast-
to bless-ed end
the future bends,
with glory
unsurpassed.
James Watkins May 2005
ciascun giorno invidia
d'essere un giorno in vita
non certo senza scorno
d'essere nato un giorno
Samuel Beckett
(disegno di Giuliano Boiti)
One of the luckier days in recent times for myself came on the tail end of a three day trip to Vermont with my friend last autumn to attempt to shoot the Washington County RR from White River Jct, VT to Newport.
A railroad that has scorned me before, the second day of the trip and third morning were spent trying to catch them doing something with only small batches of information to go off of. As per the usual, I was left with nothing on the second day. No VTR trains moved except for a 2-car freight from Bellows Falls that tied down in White River.
It seemed as if the trip was a dud for moving trains. The day prior we traced the old STJ&LC and had a blast, but without a good chase this trip would have been missing a key element. We managed to grab a New England Central painted GP38 working White River Jct on the NECR side of things which was a nice uplift, but it only lasted a couple hours of switching and off to day drinking at Chili's we went.
The third morning, before the sun came up we awoke in my rusty 2007 Prius I had for all of 6 months. It was frozen in that thing. My buddy forgot that starting a car brings you heat and instead decided to stay pinned awake in the passenger seat with his toes gone numb. I woke up in the back pretty chilly but definitely not losing feeling in my extremities, and got us rolling for another, slightly more impatient attempt at the WACR.
We made it to the Junction and there we sat for another couple hours before I (as expected) grew impatient. I decided we were going to find the GMRC turn to Bellows Falls. We drove to Rutland and unknowingly passed right by the thing departing town. Thankfully my friend urged me to drive back down the line to check for it and if we saw nothing just go home. There she was, a set of red 4-axles taking the turn through the mountains. We got ahead of it at Ludlow and went to climb the trestle in town for our shot, but right when we got to the top I heard my buddy tell me to turn around. Behind us in the stub track siding by the station was their Alco RS1.
I had never shot it before, let alone any RS1. They're one of my favorite ALCos so we made the obvious choice to shoot our freight on the bridge and chase this wherever it may go. We got to talking with the company photographer who was present and he let us know it was a ferry move to end the passenger season and was going all the way to Burlington, fit with the company president in tow after they stopped in Rutland.
So we followed this Rutland locomotive on its home track across half of Vermont with both digital and film cameras alike. This photo was taken just north of New Haven Jct. where the Rutland branch to Bristol, VT once broke off from the main. The cows didn't seem nearly as excited as I was to see this little train trundling through the picturesque and colorful Vermont countryside.
Image taken on Kodak UltraMax 400 using my Nikon F4 fitted with an 80-200mm F/2.8 ED lens.
Ho sceso, dandoti il braccio, almeno un milione di scale
e ora che non ci sei è il vuoto ad ogni gradino.
Anche così è stato breve il nostro lungo viaggio.
Il mio dura tuttora, né più mi occorrono
le coincidenze, le prenotazioni,
le trappole, gli scorni di chi crede
che la realtà sia quella che si vede.
Ho sceso milioni di scale dandoti il braccio
non già perché con quattr'occhi forse si vede di più.
Con te le ho scese perché sapevo che di noi due
le sole vere pupille, sebbene tanto offuscate,
erano le tue.
E.Montale
Grazie a Sonia per avermi suggerito la poesia!
The sun(sonne in German), whose rays
Are all ablaze
With ever-living glory,
Does not deny
His majesty —
He scorns to tell a story!
He don't exclaim,
"I blush for shame,
So kindly be indulgent."
But, fierce and bold,
In fiery gold,
He glories all effulgent!
I mean to rule the earth,
As he the sky —
We really know our worth,
The sun and I!
I mean to rule the earth,
As he the sky —
We really know our worth,
The sun and I!
© by Ozan Danışman - All rights reserved
Copyright means copyright! Do not use this photo on other platforms, sites, blogs, etc. without permission!
İstanbul, 26.11.2006
Der Leanderturm (türk. Kız kulesi, „Mädchenturm“), ein Leuchtturm aus dem 18. Jahrhundert, liegt in Istanbul einige hundert Meter vor Üsküdar auf einer kleinen Insel im Bosporus.
Hier soll das eine Ende der großen Kette befestigt worden sein, die bei den Angriffen auf Byzanz über den Bosporus gespannt wurde. Das andere Ende hing an einem Turm des Mangana-Palastes. Der Turm diente im Laufe der Zeit als Leuchtturm, optischer Telegraf, Quarantänestation, Zollhaus und Alterssitz für Seeoffiziere. Heute beherbergt er ein Restaurant. Seine heutige Gestalt geht auf das späte 18. Jahrhundert zurück.
Die europäische Bezeichnung „Leanderturm“ geht auf einen antiken Stoff zurück, der nicht im Bosporus, sondern in den Dardanellen lokalisiert ist: Der Überlieferung nach schwamm Leander jede Nacht zu seiner geliebten Hero durch den Hellespont, bis eines Nachts die Fackel, die ihm den Weg wies, erloschen war. Er verlor die Orientierung und ertrank. Hero warf sich ebenfalls in die Fluten, als sie ihren toten Geliebten am Ufer fand.
Der türkische Name „Mädchenturm“ leitet sich von der Legende einer Prinzessin ab, der ein Wahrsager den Tod durch Vergiftung vorausgesagt habe und die daraufhin von ihrem Vater in den Turm eingeschlossen worden sei. Dort konnte sie ihrem Schicksal nur leider nicht entgehen und wurde schließlich durch eine Schlange, welche in einen Obstkorb zu ihr gelangt war, getötet.
Der Turm war ein Drehort für den James-Bond-Film Die Welt ist nicht genug, wo er Bonds Gegenspielerin Elektra King (Sophie Marceau) als Versteck dient.
Legend
There are many legends about the construction of the tower and its location. According to the most popular Turkish legend, a sultan had a much beloved daughter. One day, an oracle prophecised that she would die on her 18th birthday. The sultan, in an effort to thwart his daughter's early demise, had the tower built in the middle of the Bosphorus to protect his daughter until after her 18th birthday. The daughter was placed in the tower, where she was frequently visited only by her father.
On the daughter's 18th birthday, the sultan brings a basket of fruit as a birthday gift. Upon inspecting the basket, a poisonous snake that had been hiding amongst the fruit bites her and the daughter dies, just as predicted. Hence the name Maiden's Tower.
The older name Leander's Tower comes from another story about a maiden: the ancient Greek myth of Hero and Leander. Hero was a priestess of Aphrodite who lived in a tower at Sestos, at the edge of the Hellespont (Dardanelles). Leander (Leandros), a young man from Abydos on the other side of the strait, fell in love with her and would swim every night across the Hellespont to be with her. Hero would light a lamp every night at the top of her tower to guide his way.
Succumbing to Leander's soft words, and to his argument that Aphrodite, as goddess of love, would scorn the worship of a virgin, Hero allowed him to make love to her. This routine lasted through the warm summer. But one stormy winter night, the waves tossed Leander in the sea and the breezes blew out Hero's light, and Leander lost his way, and was drowned. Hero threw herself from the tower in grief and died as well. The name Maiden's Tower might also have its origins in this ancient story.
Due to the vicinity and similarity between the Dardanelles and the Bosphorus, Leander's story was attributed to the tower by the ancient Greeks and later the Byzantines.
The tower was featured in the James Bond film The World Is Not Enough.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Einst verpönte Landplage, inzwischen eher eine Randerscheinung sind die Loks der Baureihe 185 von DB Cargo auf der KBS 880. Auch daran kann man den Niedergang der Gütersparte der Deutschen Bahn ablesen. Längst dominieren die privaten EVUs auf der Donau-Achse. Am 02. März 2025 betätigte ich daher gar nicht mal unerfreut den Auslöser, als 185 353 und 298 mit einem Ganzzug, bestehend aus Waggons der Gattung Eanos, die Stützmauer bei der oberpfälzischen Ortschaft Laaber nordwärts fahrend passierten.
Once a scorned land nuisance, the class 185 locomotives of DB Cargo on the KBS 880 are now more of a marginal phenomenon, reflecting the decline of Deutsche Bahn's freight division. Private rail transport companies have long since dominated the Danube axis. On 2 March 2025, I was therefore not at all unhappy to press the shutter release when 185 353 and 298 with a block train consisting of Eanos wagons passed the retaining wall near the Upper Palatinate village of Laaber heading northwards.
Happy 20th birthday, Flickr! |
Happy 17th birthday, Macro Mondays!
“Louie Louie” by the Kingsmen (Wand Records 143), the single declared “the party anthem of the universe” by the British newspaper The Independent.
The original version of the tune, written and recorded by Richard Berry, was on the flip side of a 1957 single (on the Flip Records label, amusingly enough, and available on a 78-rpm record as well as a 45). A curious radio DJ decided to give that B-side a spin for his audience, launching a regional hit that would soon inspire countless covers and grow into an international phenomenon supercharged by this cover (itself originally a hot-selling regional release) and all the admiration, scorn, controversy, and scrutiny it would generate.
A kind Stranger named Space Dreamer wrote this :
The moon was full—caught between the horns, cradled there like a captive jewel in the hands of the sun’s guardians. Below, a mouse and a monkey held court with the red maiden, as if the world were a small kingdom and they its clever, watchful ministers. Together they looked out over sea and land, over the rim of night, while the waters breathed and the earth listened.
But the night wore a cloak—thick, deliberate—drawn high to hide the moon from the stars and from the glass-eyed gazers of the sky. In the dark, the demons flared as if they were torches, celebrating a victory that tasted of smoke and treason: darkness triumphant, not by strength, but by betrayal—betrayal of the very source of light.
The sun, once adored, was no longer worshipped. And in that abandonment it became something harsher—jealous of the servants of God, scorning even the angels—and it burned in its own flare, as though rage could replace reverence, as though brilliance could punish the loss of love.
And so the maiden dreamed.
She dreamed of lifting the moon from its horns, of loosening the guardians’ grip, of freeing the stars from their hush. She dreamed of mending the blank places in the heavens—those cold, untouched stretches where wonder used to live—until the empty dark was filled again, not with conquest, but with glow; not with fear, but with warmth.
A quiet, universal love—spreading like dawn across everything.
-- Space Dreamer
________
Visit Planet M's Tula here:
I was highest by your warmth
And I was transformed
But your grounded and giving
And darkening scorn
Remember me, love when I'm reborn
As the shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn
-Hozier
Last night it was All Hallows Eve, and the time when lots of people take their best zombie and vampire outfits out of the wardrobe to enjoy scaring folk. But I believe monsters do not need a costume to scare. I will share today a Halloween story, changing a little bit my usual mood here, but to share something that may resonate with the experience of more than one who may read this.
A long time ago, when I first came to Second Life, I used to socialize a lot more than I do nowadays. Although I am very shy and I find it very difficult to interact with people, at least with more than one at a time, as it usually happens with introverts, I do like people and I immediately trust everybody. Not long after I became a regular in the game, I met someone who would change my life forever.
She was the most intelligent person I ever met. I got mesmerized at her knowledge of the World, of science, of humanities, of culture, technology and even the occult. She had travelled half the World and would discuss with me about geopolitics, history, macroeconomy, music, medicine, philosophy, astronomy... There was no field of knowledge that she didn't master.
Almost every night and for a very long time, I would meet her and it became my most absolute joy, always looking forward to the time we'd be together. I learned so much! She encouraged me to meditate and opened my mind to many things; she pushed me to get outside my intellectual comfort zone, to explore knowledge beyond my training and specialization, taught me to get free of prejudice and tried to open a path of enlightenment for me.
I don't think I fell in love with her. I have known real love later in my life and it isn't what I felt for that woman at all. But her knowledge, her larger-than-life personality, her confidence and, why not saying it, her naughtiness as well, were extremely sexy for me at that moment in my life, and she definitely seduced me. She knew absolutely everything about me, and I thought I knew a lot about her.
She was kind to me as well, showing interest in me and making me feel special. This lasted until everything changed. When I felt most comfortable with her, when I verbalized my admiration for her, developed a genuine and strong fascination and affection for her, when I made plans with her and she had become indispensable in my life, then she showed her real face.
She started playing with my emotions in a way that I had never experienced or imagined it was possible. Among other things, she would show sudden changes of mood without any obvious trigger or justification that I could recognize, going from the usual behaviour that I knew and learned to love to a vicious anger. She would scorn me, insult me, bully me, accuse me of things I never did or said, making me feel really confused and sad.
This emotional strain would continue for weeks or months and I would do every effort to show affection and try to understand what was happening, giving my best, trying to talk about how I felt and what could be done to smooth her behaviour. I thought I was in control, but in fact, little by little, my confidence was being eroded, my self-esteem destroyed, and my nerves broken.
I was being bullied with sadism and I was totally blind to what she was doing to me, or more precisely, I knew what she was doing, but I was trying to rationalize it and even take a share of blame, trying to change the things that apparently annoyed her. I thought that the woman who fascinated me with her knowledge of the World, who had treated me nice, who was my friend, needed my help to be the person I had first met.
Over time, and repeatedly, she would remove me from contacts, block me, or disappear from SL for long periods of time, usually as a result of a stupid thing. For example, I remember once saying something like "enjoy your dinner of mackerel with dill sauce" (she was supposedly Swedish), as a joke. That was enough for a huge rant about me being stupid, having a narrow mind, unable to think outside of stereotypes, to finally block me without giving me a chance to explain, and disappearing for several months.
But she would suddenly return one day. I would find a friendly message from her, a smile and a casual "how are you?", and then she would be nice and I would welcome her back in my life with genuine happiness and willing to forget the past. And then the cycle would repeat again. But every time I would be more broken, more lost, more undermined, less human, more in her control. I was genuinely scared to speak my mind freely when we were together, and had to think twice or three times before saying anything, because I feared her reactions. Yet I felt attracted to her like a magnet.
To this nightmare, which lasted some five long years, you have to add something that is not rare in Second Life, but that I only figured out when everything was over and I was able to finally open my eyes and put the pieces together. It was precisely one mistake she made that made me realize, what broke the spell, what opened my eyes and gave me the strength for zero contact and start recovering my freedom.
She had been using at least five or six alts with me, possibly more (with time I counted over twelve in her control). Several but not all of them had supposed links with her (roommates, real life buddies, buddies' girlfriends, ...), and without me knowing, she had been using all these characters to manipulate me and my emotions in extremely Machiavellian and elaborate ways, including pretending that she was in life-threatening situations and others that touched the right emotions in me to end up smashing them violently.
These events happened many years ago, starting in 2008, long enough to have forgotten most details, most anecdotes. But what I did not forget was the fear and the pain of being abused without any justification, and also the impotence and anxiety of being completely unable to understand the person I admired so much, and this scarred me forever. These wounds are not in my mind or my memory; these wounds are in my soul, too deep to ever heal. And I also feared what she could do to me or my loved ones, because she knew everything she needed to hurt me, had she wanted to.
Last night, All Hallows Eve, out of boredom, I visited one of the old places I used to hang out in Second Life. A historic SL musical venue, where many rock and blues lovers meet every day to enjoy the music and the company. It was ages since I had been there. I rezzed in the sim and entered the bar. When I stepped in and checked the crowd, I suddenly saw her name standing out among all the tags hovering in the place. Subsequently, I had time to recognize two additional names in the place: two of her old alts.
I am not exaggerating the slightest, my heart stopped in real panic, I got frozen in my real life chair, as if I had stumbled upon a rattler, after all these years, after not a single atom of admiration or of expectation or interest exist in my heart for this person anymore, after any feeling for that person, good or bad, had been washed away by time. Yet, all of a sudden I felt all of the anxiety and incomprehension and sorrow and fear of those years falling over me again. I felt sheer terror.
I have had my new avatar for less than 1.5 years, after successively deleting any previous accounts over the years. There is no way she could have known I was there, but I was terrorized by simply being in the same virtual place as she was. I reacted after what seemed an eternity teleporting to another place and, after a short time, feeling my heart racing and real physiological and psychological anguish, I shut down SL. This monster is out there, has been out there all the time, and I am sure she was terrorizing somebody at that very same moment I saw her yesterday.
Monsters do not have to sport fangs, blood stains or hockey masks. Monsters only need a clever, sadistic mind and an absolute lack of empathy for others... especially if you trust and tend to empathize. If you ever crossed paths with a narcissist or a psychopath, even in a "harmless" virtual world, you know very well what I am talking about.
If you never lived an experience like this, my story may sound stupid, also because I only explained the context, without indulging in the details. But you must believe me, if you get trapped in the cobweb of a monster, what they do to you is everything but stupid. They come as nice, really charming and nice, but their schemes are very dark. And if you are naïve like myself, if you believe in the goodness of people, it is the perfect recipe for disaster.
After these events and for a long time, I have been suspicious of people, also in my real life, or at least I forced myself not to open up immediately to people who approached me, even if they were very nice... especially if they were very nice. My Second Life changed too until someone gave me reasons to enjoy it again and exploit its most creative side. But the truth is we cannot fight our true nature, and fortunately, most people are not sick in their minds. Most people have genuinely good intentions and are genuinely kind at heart, and I met a bunch in SL (or your Flickr version) too. I will continue trusting and will give my best always, because I can, because you deserve it.
The mystic night of Samhain is over. The souls returned to the Purgatory to cleanse their sins. Please, be safe.
If you see demons everywhere, you will end up becoming one.
Reptilian Space Lord
Created with Midjourney
PP work in Adobe PS Elements 2024 Raw filters
Lizard People through history:
Renaissance through the 19th century
As every child knows, an alien species of reptilians has long ruled over us in secret, taking the guise of humans and replacing them in key positions of power to ensure their continued rule over us. For many years, scorn and derision have been heaped upon the few erudite humans who have seen the truth and patiently tried to explain it to other, less enlightened souls. Now, through the help of AI, the true truth can emerge.
Yes, Lizard people once lived openly among us. It was only in the early 20th century that the reptilians started hiding their existence among us, taking the guise of humans. Witness them in their true glorious form in medieval ages through the late 19th century and the advent of photography. Wallow in the ugly but oddly beautaeous, reptilian, Truth. Hoozah. from Midjourney's home page.
Thank you all for the visit, kind remarks and invites, they are very much appreciated! 💝 I may reply to only a few comments due to my restricted time spent at the computer.
All art works on this website are fully protected by Canadian and international copyright laws, all rights reserved. The images may not be copied, reproduced, manipulated or used in any way, without written permission from the artist. Link to copyright registration:
www.canada.ca Intellectual property and copyright.
Thanks for 7,213,892 🙏 views November 08, 2025.
Update April 02, 2025. Now I only accept group invitation that allows all media types including videos.
Entered in TAT New! Challenge 252.0 ~ Ode to Time ~ The Award Tree !
I love the stillness of the wood;
I love the music of the rill:
I love the couch in pensive mod
Upon some silent hill.
Scarce heard, beneath yon arching trees,
The silver-crested ripples pass;
and, like a mimic brook, the breeze
Whispers among the grass.
Here from the world I win release,
Nor scorn of men, nor footstep rude,
Break in to mar the holy peace
Of this great solitude.
~ Lewis Carroll
"O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful
In the contempt and anger of her lip! "
(Shakespeare)
texture ruby blossom: www.flickr.com/photos/16215823@N06/
texture Joes Sistah: www.flickr.com/photos/27805557@N08/
skin: alpha.tribe
THE garden beds I wandered by
One bright and cheerful morn,
When I found a new-fledged butterfly,
A-sitting on a thorn,
A black and crimson butterfly 5
All doleful and forlorn.
I thought that life could have no sting
To infant butterflies,
So I gazed on this unhappy thing
With wonder and surprise. 10
While sadly with his waving wing
He wiped his weeping eyes.
Said I, "What can the matter be?
Why weepest thou so sore?
With garden fair and sunlight free 15
And flowers in goodly store,"—
But he only turned away from me
And burst into a roar.
Cried he, "My legs are thin and few
Where once I had a swarm! 20
Soft fuzzy fur—a joy to view—
Once kept my body warm,
Before these flapping wing-things grew,
To hamper and deform!"
At that outrageous bug I shot 25
The fury of mine eye;
Said I, in scorn all burning hot,
In rage and anger high,
"You ignominious idiot!
Those wings are made to fly!" 30
"I do not want to fly," said he,
"I only want to squirm!"
And he drooped his wings dejectedly,
But still his voice was firm:
"I do not want to be a fly! 35
I want to be a worm!
O yesterday of unknown lack
To-day of unknown bliss!
I left my fool in red and black;
The last I saw was this,— 40
The creature madly climbing back
Into his chrysalis.
Charlotte Perkins S. Gilman, "A Conservative". 1919.
below from www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/a/albert_camus.html
are a few quotes from Albert Camus, French Philosopher
Date of Birth: November 7, 1913
Date of Death: January 4, 1960
Only a philosophy of eternity, in the world today, could justify non-violence.
Real generosity toward the future lies in giving all to the present.
Real nobility is based on scorn, courage, and profound indifference.
Retaliation is related to nature and instinct, not to law. Law, by definition, cannot obey the same rules as nature.
Some people talk in their sleep. Lecturers talk while other people sleep.
Stupidity has a knack of getting its way.
_____________________
With $10 billion monthly spent on Iraq, how much is left to be generous at home or else where abroad?
What nations have liberality in spirit or act?
What persons have liberality in spirit or act?
When do you show liberality in spirit or act?
Should only rich share in abundance?
Should corporations make embarrassing amounts of profits at destroying Earth's Future?
If Earth goes dead, humanity goes where?
Have a Happy Earth Day's Week, and do something daily to make earth better for all bugs and up all Life's chain to your fellow human beings, who at times can be so mean and deadly. There is more needed than just your prayers. What will you do daily to give today so there is a FUTURE? Can you make that FUTURE better today?
EXPLORE # 424 on Thursday, April 24, 2008
Sorchiee and I reported live from Malfience for the Official Fantasy Faire blog, so swing by and check out our ramblings. With two nuts on the loose, anything is possible!
I am wearing this imaginative dryad outfit by AiShA! The dress looks so good in world and I love the way it moves with the avatar. There have been many....
Read the rest and grab the outfit details on Threads and Tuneage
Read all about our Fantasy Faire Mishaps on the Official Fantasy Faire Blog
After inspecting northern pastoral lands in South Australia, devastated by a drought in 1864 - 1865, Surveyor-General George Woodroffe Goyder advised the colonial government to discourage farmers from planting crops to the north of a line delineating the extent of the 12-inch (30cm) annual rainfall.
Goyder’s findings were embodied in the first schedule of the Waste Lands Alienation Act 1872, which permitted farmers to purchase land on credit only within designated agricultural areas. From east to west, ‘Goyder’s Line of Rainfall’ ran approximately from the Hundred of Pinnaroo, swung northwest to the Hundred of Commooroo and the Melrose area, southwest through Yorke Peninsula to the Hundred of Wallaroo, then northwest across Eyre Peninsula from the Hundred of Hawker to south of Darke’s Peak, and across to the Hundred of Chilundie near Thevenard.
The law was short-lived; favourable seasons in the north encouraged the government to pass Act No. 22 of 1874 repealing the 1872 Act and allowing the sale of land under credit agreement outside ‘Goyder’s Line’. A run of bad seasons in the 1880s halted the northward progression, forcing many farmers to abandon their homesteads and, more often than not, a severely eroded landscape.
Surveyor-General George Woodroffe Goyder:
George Woodroffe Goyder (1826 - 1898), surveyor-general, was baptized on the 16th of July 1826 at Liverpool, England, son of David George Goyder, physician and Swedenborgian minister, and his wife Sarah, née Etherington. The family later moved to Glasgow where George studied surveying and was articled to a railway engineer. He migrated to Sydney in 1848. After three years with an auctioneering firm he visited Melbourne and went to Adelaide where he decided to settle. In June 1851 he entered the South Australian civil service as a draftsman and on 10 December at Christ Church, North Adelaide, married Frances Mary Smith.
Goyder joined the Department of Lands as chief clerk in January 1853. In quick stages he rose from second assistant to assistant surveyor-general in January 1857. In April he took charge of an exploration to report on country north of pastoral settlement. He was amazed to find Lake Torrens full of fresh water and its flourishing eastern surroundings very different from the desert described by Edward Eyre in 1839. His exuberant report persuaded the surveyor-general, Captain (Sir) Arthur Freeling, to examine the area in September. No more rain had fallen but hot winds had killed the vegetation and turned the lake into a bed of mud. Freeling returned to criticize Goyder for mistaking flood for permanent water, being misled by mirage and misconceiving the value of the northern country. Although Goyder had proved that Eyre's horseshoe of salt lakes was penetrable and thereby opened the way to further exploration, he was too conscientious to ignore his blunder and in 1859 at his own request led survey parties to triangulate the country between Lakes Torrens and Eyre and to sink wells. When Freeling resigned Goyder was recalled from the north to become surveyor-general on 19 January 1861 at a salary of £700.
Goyder's northern surveys had attracted many large pastoralists who soon demanded modified conditions for their leases. With extra duties as inspector of mines and valuator of runs Goyder went north to classify grazing leases, rents and rights of renewal. In less than twenty months he rode over 20,000 miles (32,186 km), visiting 83 stations and handling his departmental correspondence each night. When his valuations were published the outback lessees complained bitterly and inside pastoralists demanded re-assessment while smallholders and urban anti-squatters condemned any concession to hungry graziers. In this three-sided struggle four ministries rose and fell but Goyder stood firm. In 1865 three commissioners were sent north to reassess rents but found the country in severe drought. In November Goyder was directed to go north and from his own observations to lay down on the map 'the line of demarcation between that portion of the country where the rainfall has extended, and that where the drought prevails'. With a small mounted party he went to Swan Reach on the River Murray and thence north-west to Pekina, east to Melrose and returned through Crystal Brook to Adelaide. A map published in 1866 showed his line of travel with a wing sweeping east from the Murray to the Victorian border and another from Spencer Gulf far to the west.
Goyder's rainfall line was first used for the reassessment of leases and the relief of stricken pastoralists. After the drought broke in 1867 he cautiously admitted that his line separated 'to a certain extent' lands suitable for agriculture and those fit only for grazing. This statement strengthened the urban land reformers in the general election in April 1868. Led by Henry Strangways they introduced 'Agricultural Areas' where sections up to 320 acres (130 ha) were to be sold at auction on credit, thus enabling small farmers to compete against wealthy speculators. When the new Act was passed in January 1869 Goyder had chosen six areas, each with easy access to the coast. While the new sections were marked out he took 150 men to the Northern Territory where incompetence and delay in the surveys were causing much discontent. His prompt and firm action soon restored confidence. He recommended Palmerston (Darwin) as the capital site, completed the survey of 665,860 acres (269,467 ha) in six months, reported on traces of minerals and located a million acres (404,690 ha) of average quality suitable for the growth of tropical products. He sailed for Adelaide in November and next February visited Victoria to see the working of land regulations there. He disliked random selection before survey but his mission led to amendments of Strangways' Act. Liberal extensions of credit to new farmers and good seasons in the 1870s brought land sales of nine million acres (3,642,210 ha) for the decade. With larger sections and better opportunities to buy land in well-watered areas he discouraged attempts at farming beyond his line. He pursued this policy as chairman of the railways commission in 1874-75 but northern newspapers claimed that the southern districts were full and ridiculed the accuracy of the line. Scorning Goyder's warnings the government yielded in 1874 and made land available beyond the line. Farmers pushed north and had fair harvests but the onset of bad seasons in 1880 left them in dire distress. At great expense they had to be relocated south of the line, their sections reverting to sheep runs spoiled by wind erosion and destruction of native vegetation.
One of Goyder's many enterprises sprang from the colony's severe shortage of timber. He did his utmost to preserve trees and encourage planting. In 1873 he recommended the use of forest reserves and in 1875-83 was chairman of the Forest Board with John Ednie Brown as chief conservator. Another constant project of Goyder's was water conservation. Starting with wells and dams on northern stockroutes he persuaded the government to spend £300,000 on drainage in the south-east in 1867. In 1871 he inspected pumping machinery and irrigation works in Britain and America and returned to Adelaide with much knowledge of boring for artesian water. He advised many pastoralists on water problems and rejected such impracticable schemes as irrigating the Adelaide plain by a canal from the River Murray. His paper on the development of water conservation in 1883 indicated the immense scope of his inquiries.
Nicknamed 'Little Energy', Goyder was reputed the ablest administrator and most efficient public servant in the colony. A martinet in office hours he won the respect and affection of his subordinates. As 'king of the lands department' he served under 24 different commissioners of crown lands through 34 changes of ministry and helped to amend over 60 Lands Acts. Costs of his department rose from £15,000 in 1861 to £165,000 in 1883 when his power began to wane but in the same time he quadrupled the colony's revenue from land sales and leases. Disgruntled graziers, farmers and miners all charged him with partiality but it was never proved. In fixing rents, boundaries and valuations he was scrupulous and firm, and his rulings were tolerated because of his integrity and honour. In fieldwork his powers of observation were almost uncanny; he brought fortunes to many settlers but remained comparatively poor. He tendered his resignation in 1862, 1873 and 1878 but each time was persuaded to withdraw it by increments to his salary. He was earning £1250 a year when he retired on 30 June 1894 and was then given £4375 in lieu of a pension. In October leading citizens gave him a purse of a thousand sovereigns. He was appointed C.M.G. in 1889.
Goyder consistently overworked himself and his health suffered. For years after 1861 he had scurvy and in 1869 returned from Darwin with 'nervous and muscular debility' and was ordered complete rest. His wife was then recuperating in England where she died on 8 April 1870 at Bristol from an overdose of sleeping pills. In 1871 Goyder took nine months leave and visited Britain and America leaving his nine children with Ellen Priscilla Smith, his deceased wife's sister. On 20 November he married her: they had one son and twin daughters. Goyder died on 2 November 1898 at his home Warrakilla, near Aldgate, leaving an estate of £4000.
Source: SA History Hub & Australian Dictionary of Biography.
Song:Vnv Nation-Darkangel(Azrael) www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJB-AbwCRP0 In your dream you see me clear
I have no restraint, no fear
Powerless I watched from faces I'd assumed.
My purpose set. My will defined.
Caress the air.
Embrace the skies.
Escape the sorrow and restraint of mortal cities.
Give me time I will be clear.
Given time you'll understand
What possesses me to right what you have suffered.
I'm in this mood because of scorn.
I'm in a mood for total war.
To the darkened skies once more and ever onward.
So many years I stood among the thoughts
and tears of those I served.
Among my own I was alone through my own doing.
All the years I walked unknown
behind the faces I assumed.
Powerless to clear your mind of what you'd suffered.
They fall again.
They fall again.
Give me time I will be clear.
Given time you'll understand
What possesses me to right what you have suffered.
I'm in this mood because of scorn.
I'm in a mood for total war.
To the darkened skies once more and ever onward.
There is no faith in which to hide.
Even truth is filled with lies.
Doubting angels fall to walk among the living.
I'm in this mood because of scorn.
I'm in a mood for total war.
To the darkened skies once more and ever onward.
I'd only come here seeking peace.
I'd only come here seeking me.
It seems I came to leave.
‘I give you half of me;
No more, lest I should make
A ground for perjury.
For your sake, for my sake,
Half will you take?’
‘Half I’ll not take nor give,
For he who gives gives all.
By halves you cannot live;
Then let the barrier fall,
In one circle have all.’
“A wise and ancient scorner
Said to me once: Beware
The road that has no corner
Where you can linger and stare.
Choose the square.
‘And let the circle run
Its dull and fevered race.
You, my dear, are one;
Show your soul in your face;
Maintain your place.
‘Give, but have something to give.
No man can want you all.
Live, and learn to live.
When all the barriers fall
You are nothing at all.’
Edwin Muir, "Circle and Square".
Moral:
Appearances can be deceiving, but the truth always comes out.
One may impress through disguise, but one’s true nature is often revealed — especially through words or behavior.
Jean de La Fontaine
SCORN
Otis_Inf's Universal Unreal engine 4 Unlocker | Shader Toggler | Console Commands (r.DepthOfFieldQuality 0, r.SceneColorFringeQuality 0) | Reshade 5 | Hotsampling
Feel free to visit my VOLUME ONE account.
Mountains (James Watkins)
mountains grand and gazing-
pillars standing tall-
piercing passioned histories-
hidden in their walls.
delving downward distances-
caverns large and small-
mutant molten metal streams-
fused before the fall.
decant demon-ed destinies-
cooling chasmed halls-
dinosaurs and diamond doors
in massive mirrored malls.
heavy, heaving voices
in paradisian sprawl-
fiery fumes of purity-
creation’s curtain call.
subatomic saturation,
soiled, synthetic signs.
righteous restoration
of prehistoric crimes.
tumultuous-
tempestuous-
waning, wasted pearl-
forethought, full and fragile-
foundation of the world.
hidden in the language
of nature’s cresting yore-
cracked beneath
the stress and strain-
crumbling at the core.
tiny tidbits torn and tumbling-
wiggling in the storm-
recipes and remedies-
chemically reborn.
thickened soups and swirling haze-
brooding-steaming-scorn-
clashing reams of violent schemes-
valleys ripped and torn.
balance within balances,
scrambled eggs at last-
gushing geysered marbled mud
borne before the blast.
consciences of scientists,
syncopated scuds-
bothered by the missing mass-
baffled by the blood.
leaping lemon lizards-
the barn is nearly full-
the hay is neatly in a stack-
the baby’s come full term!
common commonalities,
full circle’s come at last.
see the story in the hills-
yield before your past.
something’s broken,
something’s missing,
something’s come and gone-
something’s at the doorway-
someone’s on the phone.
someone’s at the table-
someone’s on the floor-
someone’s grass
is full of gas-
classical-and more!
rhyming with the timing,
balancing the board-
signals of a sequenced strike,
calm before the storm.
mysteries are meaningful,
when looking at the past.
the scene is somewhat circular,
when stage is come to last.
weakened, muzzled monkeys,
dance before your lord.
the gift of grace is growing cold
squirming on sword.
commentaried cavemen,
come into the fold.
your ears can hear-
your eyes can see-
so come in from the cold.
and listen with some latitude-
to knowledge held in store.
fashioned in the faceless stone
of ancient ocean floor.
squeezed in myriad molecule,
the battle rages on-
raving reverence in reverse
its relevance reformed.
and bow before the evidence-
the courtroom is restored,
through judgment passed,
the script is cast,
in elementary score.
rain fire, you veined volcanoes-
your statement’s on the floor-
and advertise what you surmise-
from secret silent store.
you’ve waltzed in dazzled wonderment-
and touched your maker’s hand,
in timeless thought-
before the fault-
and listened to the plan.
to bring all things to unity-
from eons vile and vast-
to bless-ed end
the future bends,
with glory
unsurpassed.
James Watkins May 200
Katherine knows absolutely nothing about hanging up Christmas lights. Oh well, she’s smart, she’ll figure it out!
This Blythe doll is Lovely Katherine’s Corner, wearing Song of London Mary’s stock hat and coat, for “L is for Lights” in our Christmas alphabet.
"Escucho que ladran Sancho, senal que cabalgamos"
~~To dream ... the impossible dream ...
To fight ... the unbeatable foe ...
To bear ... with unbearable sorrow ...
To run ... where the brave dare not go ...
To right ... the unrightable wrong ...
To love ... pure and chaste from afar ...
To try ... when your arms are too weary ...
To reach ... the unreachable star ...
This is my quest, to follow that star ...
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far ...
To fight for the right, without question or pause ...
To be willing to march into Hell, for a Heavenly cause ...
And I know if I'll only be true, to this glorious quest,
That my heart will lie will lie peaceful and calm,
when I'm laid to my rest ...
And the world will be better for this:
That one man, scorned and covered with scars,
Still strove, with his last ounce of courage,
To reach ... the unreachable star ...
(Lyrics to "Man of the Mancha" )
Don Quijote de la Mancha
* dedicated to Tras...el Cid*
playing with Photoshop
some layers reworked from a previous image (sky to river)
and a poem I turned the house inside-out to re-find :-)
'we are' by Robert Hershon:
we are secret things on the sky
changelings of the sun
trees in their bark
flowering within
we are a meadow a mountain
oaken armed and grassy eyed
the cypress in white leaf
calling with mossy mouths
we are the stream beneath the sea
the river through the wave
melting stones in moony beds
the silt that scorns the flood
we are a countryside a continent
a thousand running and running things
airy hawks and thunder blooming
tongues of leaping trout
we are pulling rain
by the hair down and down
to the sky on the ocean floor
to the flower locked in wood
The cross was not originally a symbol of beauty, rather it was first a means of extreme pain, suffering, and torture. When Christ died on the cross, He scorned its shame and His blood was spilled out so that we would have life. It was through Him taking on the full punishment for sin that was due to us that we are able to live clothed in His righteousness. The cross was where the full wrath of God was poured out and Christ was made to be the perfect spotless lamb that would be the satisfactory substitute for us. Now the cross is a symbol that reminds us of how life was given to us. Now it truly has become a symbol of beauty for those who treasure the great gift of love that was poured out on it!
I am not getting bigheaded on you here, it's just the image that this song put in my head ;-)
please listen to this de.youtube.com/watch?v=IpcV02eNb00&feature=related when viewing this.
was gonna ad an oscar at first but then thought that THAT would be bigheaded, lol
Robbie Williams: I will talk and Hollywood will listen
I wouldn't be so alone
If they knew my name in every home
Kevin Spacey would call on the phone
But I'd be too busy
Come back to the old five and dime
Cameron Diaz give me a sign
I'd make you smile all the time
Your conversation would compliment mine
I will talk and Hollywood will listen
See them bow at my every word
Mr Spielberg look just what you're missing
Doesn't that seem a little absurd
Bow at my every word
Buy up the rights to my book
Live on a ranch from what the box office took
I'll go and visit the set
They'll call me their saviour
All the peoples will scorn celebrity
Lives on the moon
But, I'll be back home in June
To promote the sequel
I will talk and Hollywood will listen
See them bow at my every word
Mr. Spielberg look just what you're missing
Doesn't that seem a little absurd
Bow at my every word
Atlantic Drive overlooking Tra Na Rossan Beach, Rosguill Peninsula, County Donegal, Ireland
On the ‘Atlantic Drive’ between Tranarossan & Downing’s can be found one of my personal favourite views in Donegal. These beautiful little traditional cottages are nestled in this lush green valley with surrounding wild prairies of purple heather in bloom which gently roll downwards onto the sandy shore below. I love how these emerald fields and ancient dry stone walls clamber up this jagged rocky hill which towers over the entire scene. In the Backdrop can be seen the turquoise waters of Tra Na Rossan Beach also watched over by its very own gigantic guardian hill.
I think what my mind observes in this scene, is how this little green valley with its cottages, fields, flowers, donkeys and purple heather would not be so beautiful nor even here! if it wasn’t sheltered by its guardian hills. These ancient rocky giants have sheltered and protected this little haven from the high winds and elements for eons.
It’s fascinating to think on how the elements can actually scorn nature such as the barren exposed tops of these hills, but to also see the beauty which has flourished at their bases due to the shelter they provide 🙏
Hope you enjoy! Please Favourite & Follow to view my newest upcoming works, Thank you
Làm kiểng - Đồ trang sức .... và cái cách "nó" xuất hiện trong tấm ảnh này ....
Ta khinh .....
Ornament, decoration .... and the way "she" exist in this photo ....
To be scorned !!!
Jesus, I must confess, that in all my loneliness I've forsaken and I've sinned, leaving fragments of a man, so broken. I could tell you, what I've done or should I tell you, where I went wrong? Well the more, that I start to play, my deceitful, evil ways keep on growing stronger by the day. Mother Mary, full of grace, in my weakness, I've lost faith. I've been careless, and I have been warned, and the devil inside me is torn. God bless the men, that I have scorned. So don't let me fool around no more. Send your angels down to guide me through that door. Well I've gone and confessed my regrets. And I pray I'm not held in contempt. I'm so lost, and I need you to help me repent. Oh lord have mercy on my soul! I'm begging, I'm pleading, I'm needing. I want you to know, so I'm down upon my knees...Oh lord, I need forgiveness from you...