really wasn’t ready when I started this blog, launching it to the public at large. I just really needed to dump some emotion to get out of my head after my Father died, and I needed it to be out there in cyberspace for some reason. Not sure why, just a gut feeling. I am a man that follows my intuition, mainly because it may not lead me where I want to go, but it always gets me good stuff. Trust the tummy and life is not bad . . .
Maybe someone needed to see the words? Maybe my words can help another someone. What else could it be? Same difference, either way, here it is . . . and here it goes. As the Crazy Russian says, “boom,”
While the website has been my main priority, it’s been interrupted off and on, mainly by stuff God Daddy doesn’t say and the like. Like the why of my problem with it that made the Website Builder geeks themselves, take it and work on it for several days. It didn’t take, so I changed the theme and began the whole thing over again, after three months of calling . . . waiting three days for the changes like they said, then beginning the problem all over again. Guess that it wasn’t enough I had bereavement, two sisters pushing me with “Sell! Sell! Sell!”, trying to fit into the far-too-tight-pants of my Father’s life in a living will, and exasperated problems with my disabilities, mainly because of the situation.
WAH! wAH! Wah! crying in my non-existent beer
Life is either a Calgon bath or there friggin’ isn’t enough quarters — for the cussing jar.
Sledge hammers are too small to smash my laptop for the satisfaction I craved at the time.
Then, of course, the finger violin started playing and I had to laugh. Disabilities aren’t anything that you can’t live with, they just seem to flare-up at the most inconvenient of times. Like bedtime. *Sheesh* give me a f—in break, will ya? (shakes fist at the ceiling in outrageous vindictiveness). Yet, I am still a lover . . . just sometimes a frustrated one.
OMG! Weird stuff is happening to me again!
I read about the corporation that chose 149 people to prosecute for copyright infringement. Kinda seems weird with all the apps which encourage reposting pictures. When it started there was Flickr, now there is Pinterest, Instagram, Smugmug, Hootsuite, Tadaa, EyeEm, Streamzoo, InstaSquarer, Wood Camera, Piictu, Mobil, Pixplit, Spred, Trendyful, Halftone, Pixable HD, Backspaces, Pressgram, OKDO THIS, Lightt, ThisLife, Photo Hub, Photi, Reel, Globl Me, Photos-to Photos, etc., the list goes on and on like the battery bunny.
So to attack a few bloggers, unless they are really raking in the dough, seems kinda wildly vicious. I mean these people are busting their buns to turn a buck by laboring with their words. Once I get my stiff all fixed, I’ll put it back up online. Gonna take a little while to do it though . . . it was almost three weeks of daily work to get the site together and I still am waiting for a few people to give approval on permissions, then it will be blasted!
WHO GOES THERE? BY MY CHINNY, CHIN, CHIN.
So there is this little character, K-1, who we decided must be our home protector when we leave to go somewhere. I was walking around the house taking some pictures, and there was nothing showing in the window. Then I went around the shop from the backside, still taking pics, and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.
However, when I started adjusting the pictures for the best focus in my 2003 Dell PaintShop Pro 7.4 program, K-1 was right there in two photos, one shot from about twelve feet, and the second is the one you see here. Where He came from is beyond me. We looked high and low, checking about the inside of the washroom, but nothing was behind the window to explain his presence. No doll. No ceramic gnome. No elf. Not even a couple of rags. Nothing anything like his shape . . . the face in the picture is foreign. Glad to finally meet him, since we’ve suspected his presence for a few decades.
Notice that K-1 is not present in the right window here. This picture was taken the same day, just prior to the one with him in it. If he was there, or if something was in the window at the time, you’d see it in this picture just the same as the close-up.
We decided K-1 safe-guards us from hooligans or other riff-raft which may desire to enter without permission while we are shopping or something else.
Dad never locked the house while he lived there. Mom, on the other hand, did always, and everywhere to boot, plus all us kids too, taught by Mom, whenever we lived there, so Mom would feel safe, cuz it was a thing. Dad just plain refused to lock it. And if you asked him to because he was near the door, his face would get all pained and contorted, yet he’d do it anyway . . . for Mom. He refused to lock just about everything though, even after his Thunderbird got ripped off!
Never quite understood why he left the keys in the open tuckaway pocket of the dash . . . but that was Dad. He didn’t budge on things he’d made his mind up about on, except rarely. And then, only when he listened with an open mind, not as easily done after he had thought it through until he set his opinion. I resemble that more and more each day I get older . . . and see another grey hair or six.
Eccentricity is just a little different
Slightly eccentric, both of my parents designed the house to suit them, fix or hide a problem, or simply place a design they liked for viewing. It began for visitors on the front door itself. Mom was quite deep into healing arts for most all of my years living with them, and Feng Shui became a passion of hers for several years. I am unsure what the color influences, but she painted the front door purple. A stained-glass style piece of artwork, with colorful creatures within the design which she created, served as a privacy mask to see visitors out the large single-light window of the front door, effectively distracting visitors from peering into the house.
Next you’d see, back at the end of the hallway, was the four foot square chessboard Dad built as part of a county fair entry. The chess pieces ranged between the tallest, at about eighteen inches, and on down to the rook, or castle, which was eleven inches tall. Setting up the entire chess board took weeks. Mom poured each candle piece, pouring the molds, trimming them and them painting them with effects to make one dark and the other light.
Dad built the four foot by four foot board on a piece of plywood, hand-splitting all the quarter-inch pieces to make the sections for each square, sanding on them forever to make them as flush as possible. After he got them all together, Mom set about pouring each of the squares, one at a time, to match the squares of a chessboard. Once it was all dry, Dad placed a frame around the whole thing, sealing the glass top down so even if sideways, the wax would never run out. This is what the chessboard looks like today, after thirty years of heat, up to 100 degrees or more, and cold, diving down to twenty degrees (hallway isn’t heated, so when the dining room door is closed, it would get pretty cold), it has stood up great!
The massive chess set required a separate trip all by itself, to transport all the thirty-two chess pieces, and the huge chessboard took the entire bed of the truck. It took my parents over three weeks of labor to build that giant chess set, and a couple hours to get it delivered and all set up, before coming back home. The fairgrounds was only 5-10 miles away, so it was a quick road trip. except for the lights. Man oh Man, did it look so awesome when they finally got it all set up at the fair!
We all just “knew” it was going to take “Best of Show” and they certainly deserved it for all their labor, as far as us kids were concerned. That year, Mom had over 350 entries of jams, jellies, pies, cakes, pastries, and everything you can think of canned – beans, pickles, etc. Then there was all the craftswork – crochet & knit items, sewn doll clothes, people clothes for men, women & children. so many things it took multiple trips!
She baked, canned, painted, sewed clothes, made dolls, crocheted, knitted, hooked rugs . . . it was crazy! You name it, she made it. Mom had time, and she’d always stayed busy, never liking to have idle hands. Mom was home on crutches then, healed up enough to do things after the accident, but still confined to using crutches to walk. Mom’s trial was still pretty fresh that year, so almost all of the accomplishments she made was done with one crutch under an arm, constantly.
It was really scary to watch Mom walking with 700 degree candle wax in a little pot she had heated for pouring into the molds, insisting on doing it all herself. Imagine this picture, a lady 4’11” tall, holding a small soup pot in her right hand, crutch trapped between her arm and her torso, and holding the handle of her other crutch in her left hand; now add the movement of walking. Aaurgh!!! I just couldn’t watch!!! Especially knowing she’d gotten 2nd degree burns on that same right hand and wrist while moving a broiler pan filled with hot grease from a pot roast she decided to broil instead! “Cringe cringe!” he said, head ducking low and squinting hard, while gulping very audibly. She said if she burned herself, that was one thing, but if one of us kids got burned helping her pour candles, she’d never forgive herself.
We all got heavy into fair time. I’d enter every arts and crafts category, and so would my sisters. Dad would build a few things, or blaze some glasswork. He got good at making the little glass fairies and made a few horses too, plus made goblets out of wine bottles.
Mom was the family leader that year though, probably more than anyone else at the entire fair! I don’t know if she really held a record for the most entries, but she must have been pretty damned close.
So we arrive on the first day, both of my parents totally giddy with excitement. We couldn’t wait to get out of the car, even with the temperature over one-hundred degrees. We walked through the Art Department and we all won something. That year I won “Best of Show” for my still life painting.
We continued through the buildings until we finally got to the one with the chess set. By them my feet were aching, so I sat on a bench for a few minutes, as Mom & Dad went in. They weren’t in there very long before they came out, Mom twisting back and forth between cursing under her breath and sobbing. “What happened?” all of kids chanted in unison.
Dad’s face was red with anger. He quietly started to say, “third place’ when Mom cut him off, muttering something incomprehensible about milk-carton cheese and cheap dime-store cat toys. Dad shook his head and sighed very heavily, looked at Mom and hung his head, shaking it back and forth. Mom was on a rant now, spitting hushed words through clenched teeth, face flushed and tears running down her cheeks. “Those damn asinine fools! This judging is fixed! I’ll not make another thing for this fair, the rest of my days!” She didn’t either.
The piece which had won, was a milk-carton candles like kids make in grammar school arts & craftwork, where you put ice into a milk carton, then pour in candle wax, melting the ice in unique patterns which make uneven edged holes in the sides of the candles. No trimming, no painting, no talent needed. We’d made them in school ourselves and brought ’em home for a “That’s nice honey” ourselves! They cut the holey candle into a triangular shape, so it resembled a piece of cheese, and placed three store-bought cat-pet-toy mice around the cheese candle on a cheese cutting board. Must of taken all of a few minutes, at most, to assemble. Unless the entry was made by a kindergartener . . . yet it was by an adult.
Mom never went to the County Fair again, except for a different event. It was not a topic for discussion if you knew what was good for you. Even a decade later, flames would shoot out of her nose and smoky clouds would form, filling the room as she spat her indignations about it.
Even though I won the Best of Show for art that year, the mood at our house was subdued. Mom never forgave the judges that year, losing all interest in not only making things for the fair, but even going to the fair. I think we got her there once or twice after that was all. The fair judges had made a lifetime enemy with their favoritism and rightfully so, I do believe.
∞ PROPERTIES OF A FLOWER ∞
Few people today remember the “Poughkeepsie Seer”, Spiritualist author Andrew Jackson Davis.
I am an avid reader of old stuff, preferring material from mid 1840’s to 1930’s, mainly because back then, educational standards were different, the vocabulary used more concise or flowery, and information in the books of those times weren’t controlled so much. The openness of that era was highly motivated by discovery – we still had pioneers venturing into the unknown regions of the Pacific Coast, and California was just barely known, still owned by Mexico until mid-century of the 1800’s.
In the 19th century, however, Davis was one of America’s foremost writers on paranormal, occult, and “psychic” topics, and the leading thinker of the American Spiritualist movement. In 1847, he published The Principles of Nature, Her Divine Revelations, and a Voice to Mankind, of which he claimed, he had dictated in 1845, while in a trance, to his scribe, William Fishbough.
Andrew Davis wrote his impressions of an individual’s soul in an eloquent manner, presenting an interesting argument. Wrapping up a road and moving it over in a new direction, is one of those sneaky tricks which really seems to upset some people for some reason. If it still takes you to the same place, what’s all the hubbub about?
On page 622, §183 misspelling and spacing is from original:
“It now becomes necessary to classify the parts of the soul, in order to conceive of the relation which they sustain to each other, and of the three great essential parts, which correspond to end, cause,and effect.
The end or ultimate design in prospect, is always the cause, which cause institutes an effect ; and both of these are engaged in accomplishing the end.
I discover, then, that the soul is composed of three distinct parts ; and these are Love, Will, and Wisdom.
Love is the first or rudimental element of the human soul. It is that liquid, mingling, delicate, inexpressible element which is felt in the depths of every human spirit, because it is its germinal essence.
Will is a living force which serves as the connecting medium between Love and Wisdom, being subject to the influence and suggestions of each. It is the innate consciousness of energy, or force ; and it has been supposed to be an absolutely-independent element of the mind, beyond the possibility of being influenced by external captivations.
Wisdom is the perfection of Love. It is the sealing element of the human soul ; it is the establishment of the soul’s perfect constitution. Wisdom flows from love, is directed by experience, modified by will, and rendered perfect by knowledge. Wisdom is the thinking principle, the faculty that cogitates, investigates, searches, and explores, the fields of terrestrial and celestial existence. It is the faculty that analyzes, calculates, and imperatively commands obedience from all the subordinate possessions of Will and Love.
On page 627, §185 he summarizes:
“The third faculty of the soul is evolved from Will and Love and is the highest and most perfect one ; and this joins and pervades the others so that the three form a perfect Whole. This faculty is Wisdom.
The office of Wisdom is to listen silently to the suggestions of Love and Will, and to modify these according to reason, form, order, and perfect harmony. Love without Will would be eccentric, impulsive, disorderly, and confused, even to such an extent that the whole system of Nature would be nothing more than a vast congregation of disorganized forms. Everything would be misplaced, misformed, misconstructed, and rendered useless to the requirements of man. But Love being modified by Will, becomes at once limited as to its circle of movement, and confined in its conceptions to a definite sphere. Yet Love and Will would both be eccentric and ungoverned in their movements among material things, were it not for the presence of Wisdom, which presides over and directs them both.
Wisdom is contained in the germ of the soul, which is Love — is developed in the body, which is Will — and perfected in the flower, which is itself. Wisdom, then, pervades, directs, modifies, and governs them all, because it is the crowning faculty of the soul, and the most perfect of all its attributes.
Thus you have it. All the components of a person’s essence…at least by Mr. Davis’s opinion. It works for me on this level, so if I can apply it to my life, I’d say the pieces really are starting to come together, slowly, but surely. And that’s a good thing! Don’t you think? I do.