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RISING

Excuse me, I want to make a correction.  I could have done an edit and just let it go unnoticed, but if it has been up long enough for someone to have read it and I forgot or just didn’t get it right, then I want to own that and make it right.  I have the name of this incredible traditional singer wrong (even more than for the placement of accents) it is Iarla O Lionaird.  Thank you.  I hope you’ll listen to him – no, don’t know him, no $$ interest in outcome.

 

This came in response to Iarla Lionaird (sorry no accents in the right places, I don’t know how to do that) singing The Lament of the Three Marys, worth a listen on YouTube.  I called it Rising because any time you feel you have to let go, you’re rising.

 

And the fiddle plays

the width of the ocean

and over your heart

the voice

shattering all you hold on to

pick up

what you need

at your own calvary

made whole

 

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THEN, THERE’S PAIN

One of many reasons for the blog is, I have chronic pain. . . that would be the constant, 24 hour a day, seven days a week, no you don’t qualify for holidays or weekends off kind.

In the beginning, I semi-followed the allopathic medical model (in my opinion it is meant for failure and misery).  Then, I got really interested in this subject and in taking care of me.  So, with the help of some friends, many classes, much research, trial and. . . uh. . . interesting errors, things got better.

No, the pain did not go away and does not.  And, I wanted to use a minimum, if any, pain medication.  I’m no puritan or polyanna, I just know what those medications were intended for and what they do to a mind.  I don’t want that.

I use meditation, yoga, music, dharma lectures, reading, writing and last but not least the love that is in me and around me.

The last few days, I’ve had worsening pain (this is not uncommon), so I get a bit quieter and a bit more appreciative and I get through it with something gained.  I learned, from my west highland white terrier, Ruby, to look, observe, listen, be kind.  That’s really good medicine–that’s the place to start.    I’ve learned that:  sitting out on the redwood deck in quiet, looking out at the wildflowers, and wildflowers and wildflowers and the tomatoes, squash and pumpkin patch my husband planted just for me, I feel appreciation and that’s wider space than pain can occupy;  that sitting out on the porch in the moonlight, I can see and feel how luminous the moon seems, and the vastness of us — how wide and free and powerful we can be;   in listening to music (Led Zep is, yes, one of my picks) it lifts my mood, focuses my mind and plays good memories; that I can  stretch gently and still I fully participate in sun salutations.

Most of all, pain gave me a position an opportunity, to see that it all matters.  I eat better, rest better, play better.  I listen, love and care more deeply.

Thank you, Lilie

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MEASURES

I’m learning Gaeilge (gaelic)/Irish. I love the traditional singers. Incredible. When you look at the foundation language, you see where that keening, that mournful, heart-full sound comes from. There’s a rhythm, a cadence in the language, a speaking from the heart which follows in the music. If you listen to this singing, you can hear the scot-irish ballads brought over here, and country western, blues, bluegrass. You also hear the shape note teaching. When I start with learning another language, I get to see the culture and traditions. I fall in love with them and realize none are other than myself. I am made up with many of these. There isn’t one who isn’t. The ‘we are all one’ isn’t just a cliche. It’s every single one of us. So, it makes you think this idea about judging someone by race is ridiculous. There is no such thing to use as division. There are valuable experiences, traditions, cultures, learning, contributions, languages passed down; there are adaptations to physical environment, society, survival that are passed down, all of these are worth holding dear and sharing but to use them to measure distance or superiority, wrong yardstick, honey