Saturday, December 31, 2016

Present circumstances determine where...

Your present circumstances don't determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start.


Friday, December 30, 2016

Expressing your true self

True self and false self are concepts introduced into psychoanalysis in 1960 by D. W. Winnicott. Winnicott used "True Self" to describe a sense of self based on spontaneous authentic experience, and a feeling of being alive, having a "real self".

Embrace your wild Primal Self

How to truly accomplish your Life's Journey.

LOVE is when you can be your true self with someone

Do not agree with second part.  No I want to be my true as much as possible.


Gain the power to move worlds

To thine own self...

Hurting yourself

Self humor

I AM Free!

Acquire true self power...

Your True Self is beyond...

This winter too shall pass demonstrating our perserverance

Spring passes and one remembers one's innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one's exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one's reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one's perseverance.
Yoko Ono(

Thursday, December 29, 2016

2017 is going to be like Heaven

"The self in exile remains the self, as a bell unstruck for years is still a bell." writes poet Jane Hirshfield. I suspect these words are important for you n thto hear as you prepare for 2017. My sense that in these past few months, your true self has been making its way back to the heart of life after a time of wandering on the outskirts. Any day now, a long silent bell will start ringing to herald your full return. WELCOME HOME!                                                                                               Free Will Astrology, Rob Brezsny

True self and false self are concepts introduced into psychoanalysis in 1960 by D. W. Winnicott. Winnicott used "True Self" to describe a sense of self based on spontaneous authentic experience, and a feeling of being alive, having a "real self".

Love on this Thursday

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Wishing you a joyous Thursday



This Brother chooses peace all the time, anytime.

The time of business does not with me differ from the time of prayer, and in the noise and clatter of my kitchen, while several persons are at the same time calling for different things, I possess God in as great tranquility as if I were upon my knees at the blessed sacrament.

Wednesday, December 28, 2016


The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (text of 1834)

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How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancient Mariner came back to his own Country.
It is an ancient Mariner, 
And he stoppeth one of three. 
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, 
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? 

The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, 
And I am next of kin; 
The guests are met, the feast is set: 
May'st hear the merry din.' 

He holds him with his skinny hand, 
'There was a ship,' quoth he. 
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!' 
Eftsoons his hand dropt he. 

He holds him with his glittering eye— 
The Wedding-Guest stood still, 
And listens like a three years' child: 
The Mariner hath his will. 

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: 
He cannot choose but hear; 
And thus spake on that ancient man, 
The bright-eyed Mariner. 

'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, 
Merrily did we drop 
Below the kirk, below the hill, 
Below the lighthouse top. 

The Sun came up upon the left, 
Out of the sea came he! 
And he shone bright, and on the right 
Went down into the sea. 

Higher and higher every day, 
Till over the mast at noon—' 
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, 
For he heard the loud bassoon. 

The bride hath paced into the hall, 
Red as a rose is she; 
Nodding their heads before her goes 
The merry minstrelsy. 

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, 
Yet he cannot choose but hear; 
And thus spake on that ancient man, 
The bright-eyed Mariner. 

And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he 
Was tyrannous and strong: 
He struck with his o'ertaking wings, 
And chased us south along. 

With sloping masts and dipping prow, 
As who pursued with yell and blow 
Still treads the shadow of his foe, 
And forward bends his head, 
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, 
And southward aye we fled. 

And now there came both mist and snow, 
And it grew wondrous cold: 
And ice, mast-high, came floating by, 
As green as emerald. 

And through the drifts the snowy clifts 
Did send a dismal sheen: 
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken— 
The ice was all between. 

The ice was here, the ice was there, 
The ice was all around: 
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, 
Like noises in a swound! 

At length did cross an Albatross, 
Thorough the fog it came; 
As if it had been a Christian soul, 
We hailed it in God's name. 

It ate the food it ne'er had eat, 
And round and round it flew. 
The ice did split with a thunder-fit; 
The helmsman steered us through! 

(The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (originally The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere) is the longest major poem by the English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, written in 1797–98 and published in 1798 in the first edition of Lyrical Ballads.)

And a good south wind sprung up behind; 
The Albatross did follow, 
And every day, for food or play, 
Came to the mariner's hollo! 

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, 
It perched for vespers nine; 
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, 
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.' 

'God save thee, ancient Mariner! 
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!— 
Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bow 
I shot the ALBATROSS. 

The Sun now rose upon the right: 
Out of the sea came he, 
Still hid in mist, and on the left 
Went down into the sea. 

And the good south wind still blew behind, 
But no sweet bird did follow, 
Nor any day for food or play 
Came to the mariner's hollo! 

And I had done a hellish thing, 
And it would work 'em woe: 
For all averred, I had killed the bird 
That made the breeze to blow. 
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, 
That made the breeze to blow! 

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, 
The glorious Sun uprist: 
Then all averred, I had killed the bird 
That brought the fog and mist. 
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, 
That bring the fog and mist. 

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, 
The furrow followed free; 
We were the first that ever burst 
Into that silent sea. 

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 
'Twas sad as sad could be; 
And we did speak only to break 
The silence of the sea! 

All in a hot and copper sky, 
The bloody Sun, at noon, 
Right up above the mast did stand, 
No bigger than the Moon. 

Day after day, day after day, 
We stuck, nor breath nor motion; 
As idle as a painted ship 
Upon a painted ocean. 

Water, water, every where, 
And all the boards did shrink; 
Water, water, every where, 
Nor any drop to drink. 

The very deep did rot: O Christ! 
That ever this should be! 
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 
Upon the slimy sea. 

About, about, in reel and rout 
The death-fires danced at night; 
The water, like a witch's oils, 
Burnt green, and blue and white. 

And some in dreams assurèd were 
Of the Spirit that plagued us so; 
Nine fathom deep he had followed us 
From the land of mist and snow. 

And every tongue, through utter drought, 
Was withered at the root; 
We could not speak, no more than if 
We had been choked with soot. 

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks 
Had I from old and young! 
Instead of the cross, the Albatross 
About my neck was hung. 

There passed a weary time. Each throat 
Was parched, and glazed each eye. 
A weary time! a weary time! 
How glazed each weary eye, 

When looking westward, I beheld 
A something in the sky. 

At first it seemed a little speck, 
And then it seemed a mist; 
It moved and moved, and took at last 
A certain shape, I wist. 

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! 
And still it neared and neared: 
As if it dodged a water-sprite, 
It plunged and tacked and veered. 

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, 
We could nor laugh nor wail; 
Through utter drought all dumb we stood! 
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 
And cried, A sail! a sail! 

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, 
Agape they heard me call: 
Gramercy! they for joy did grin, 
And all at once their breath drew in. 
As they were drinking all. 

See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! 
Hither to work us weal; 
Without a breeze, without a tide, 
She steadies with upright keel! 

The western wave was all a-flame. 
The day was well nigh done! 
Almost upon the western wave 
Rested the broad bright Sun; 
When that strange shape drove suddenly 
Betwixt us and the Sun. 

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, 
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!) 
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered 
With broad and burning face. 

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) 
How fast she nears and nears! 
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, 
Like restless gossameres? 

Are those her ribs through which the Sun 
Did peer, as through a grate? 
And is that Woman all her crew? 
Is that a DEATH? and are there two? 
Is DEATH that woman's mate? 

Her lips were red, her looks were free, 
Her locks were yellow as gold: 
Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, 
Who thicks man's blood with cold. 

The naked hulk alongside came, 
And the twain were casting dice; 
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!' 
Quoth she, and whistles thrice. 

The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out; 
At one stride comes the dark; 
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, 
Off shot the spectre-bark. 

We listened and looked sideways up! 
Fear at my heart, as at a cup, 
My life-blood seemed to sip! 
The stars were dim, and thick the night, 
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white; 
From the sails the dew did drip— 
Till clomb above the eastern bar 
The hornèd Moon, with one bright star 
Within the nether tip. 

One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, 
Too quick for groan or sigh, 
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, 
And cursed me with his eye. 

Four times fifty living men, 
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan) 
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, 
They dropped down one by one. 

The souls did from their bodies fly,— 
They fled to bliss or woe! 
And every soul, it passed me by, 
Like the whizz of my cross-bow! 

'I fear thee, ancient Mariner! 
I fear thy skinny hand! 
And thou art long, and lank, and brown, 
As is the ribbed sea-sand. 

I fear thee and thy glittering eye, 
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'— 
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! 
This body dropt not down. 

Alone, alone, all, all alone, 
Alone on a wide wide sea! 
And never a saint took pity on 
My soul in agony. 

The many men, so beautiful! 
And they all dead did lie: 
And a thousand thousand slimy things 
Lived on; and so did I. 

I looked upon the rotting sea, 
And drew my eyes away; 
I looked upon the rotting deck, 
And there the dead men lay. 

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper came, and made 
My heart as dry as dust. 

I closed my lids, and kept them close, 
And the balls like pulses beat; 
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky 
Lay dead like a load on my weary eye, 
And the dead were at my feet. 

The cold sweat melted from their limbs, 
Nor rot nor reek did they: 
The look with which they looked on me 
Had never passed away. 

An orphan's curse would drag to hell 
A spirit from on high; 
But oh! more horrible than that 
Is the curse in a dead man's eye! 
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, 
And yet I could not die. 
...and i will spare you the rest - a lot more!