Wednesday, September 30, 2015

The Sane Asylum Wisdom Series



We shape clay into a pot, but it is the emptiness inside that holds what ever we choose...

Thank you +melya mai 
melya mai
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Sunday, September 27, 2015

From The Road



















From the road...I remember well the day. It was in Veracruz. It was a hot day with a humid breeze from the ocean. I was sitting in a small hotel lobby and he came through the open door and asked if he could play a song for me. He had a well worn but beautiful bass violin by his side. To the objection of the hotel waiter, I asked asked him to please join me.

He played a selection from Czardas by Monti...He had been trained as a classical violinist in Mexico City and now spent his days wandering the streets of Veracruz giving of his soul to whoever would stop and listen and pay him a peso or two. He taught music for many years but said the young people not longer had interest in the arts.

I treated him to his favorite beer and slipped him a decent reward for his story and song. I watched him walk outside as he waited for a bus ride to take him home with his large and beautiful bass. I motioned for him to return and said, "I am going your way seƱor, can I give you a lift?"

When we arrived at his one room home on the outskirts of town, he insisted I join him for his daily diet of flour tortillas and onion sprinkled with a little table salt. I must say, one of the best meals of my life, sitting at that small wooden table.

The floors in his home were dirt floors and his north walls were covered with news print and some pictures from playboy magazine. You heard me correctly. We laughed about his favorite month. I still laugh today when April rolls around. I saw small pieces of plywood stacked
neatly in one corner. Seems he spends any spare money he accumulates to buy wood to make ukuleles which he give away to interested children, with a lesson or two. He had several in various stages of completion leaning against the wall. One drew my attention for its color and style, but he refused my offer of payment.

On my departure I asked who was his favorite singer. To my surprise he said, "Willie Nelson". I smiled, offered him an embrace of friendship and yes I did leave twenty pesos under the tin plate.

I often think of my friend with a big heart and a song to give for anyone who will listen. To this day I occasionally sprinkle a little table salt on an onion to honor his spirit. Be well my friend...


His name is Dario...The salt of the earth...
Ego, my friends call me Doc

Stopped To Ponder


When they criticize you and you notice that you love them still.
Your work will be done.

Saturday, September 26, 2015

The Sane Asylum Wisdom Series


"And the young, they can loose hope cause
they can't see beyond today...
The wisdom that the old can't give away."

Pearl Jam lyrics ( The Boat Captain)

Friday, September 25, 2015

Finding The Self


Goodbye, Columbine
Now your path and mine
We must part this world of sublime
But keep a lookout on this day
For you know I will return this way
Be it noontide, a cool eve, or in the winter time.

Ego

Thursday, September 24, 2015

The Fool of Rockwall

If I were a fool of any sort, 
I’d leave Redwall and travel forth, 
For only fools seek Terramort 
On the pathway leading north. 
This trail brings death with every pace; 
Beware the dangers lurking there, 
Sticklegs of the feathered race 
And fins that in the ford do not stir. 
After the ford, on night one day, 
Seek out the otter and his wife. 
Forsake the path, go westlands way, 
Find the trail and lose your life. 
When in the woods this promise keep, 
With senses sharp and open eyes, 
‘My nose shall not send me to sleep’ 
For buried ones will surely rise. 
Beat the hollow oak and shout, 
‘We are creatures of Redwall!’ 
If a brave one is about, 
He’ll save any fool at all. 
Beware the light that shows the way, 
Trust not the wart-skinned toad, 
In his realm no night no day. 
Fool, stay on the road. 
Where the sea meets the shore, 
There the final clue is hid; 
Rock stands sentinel evermore, 
Find it as I did. 
The swallow who cannot fly south, 
The bird that only flies one way, 
Lies deep beneath the monster’s mouth, 
Keep him with you night and day. 
His flight is straight, norwest is true, 
Your fool’s desire he’ll show to you.” 
 

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

A funny thing happened on the way to therapy...


"The light you are trying to see at the end of your tunnel is not the illusion.
The  tunnel is your illusion."

Ego

Monday, September 21, 2015

Inside The Sane Asylum- Super Luner


Many of you know Jes B Rambling from his post to The Sane Asylum.  He is always trying
to capture and document hysterical sites. Last month he went out to document
the Super Moon. This is what he recorded in his field notes.
Thanks Jes for your observations!
All that you touch
And all that you see

All that you taste
All you feel
All that you love
And all that you hate
All you distrust
All you save
And all that you give
And all that you deal
And all that you buy, beg, borrow, or steal
And all you create
And all you destroy
And all that you do
And all that you say
And all that you eat
And everyone you meet
All that you slight
And everyone you fight
And all that is now
And all that is gone
And all that's to come
And everything under the sun is in tune
But the sun is eclipsed by the moon

There is no dark side of the moon really
Matter of fact it's all dark


Lyrics by Rodger Waters

Sunday, September 20, 2015

From the Road. Old Man With A Red Cane


From The Road...
I had heard stories of this old man with the red cane and how he walked daily along the shore. Always at the same appointed time. Some just called him the Hermit, others spun their own tales of fantasy and intrigue. Regardless of the tales, he captured my imagination and I made it a point to pass by that stretch of coastline on many occasions just to get get a glimpse of the old man with a red cane legend. 

When I first saw him approaching I could not restrain the passion in my voice..."Good day sir," forced its way out. With a hint of disparity he said, "What do you want."  I politely, as best I could, responded, "I did not intend to disrupt your peace." He quickly quipped, "and what would be the point in that?" 

"Well sir the legend of the ole' man with a red can lives on you know." I said.
He smiled and quipped, " I guess you are here to ask me about the meaning of life then?" I laughed and then we both got a good laugh together. "People think what they want to think, and it's none of my concern," he said. I asked him if I could see his cane, it was one to be admired. It was a twisted vine in shape, with a carved Eagle appointing the head. It was a fine cane. Made from the Elder Wood vine. He showed the markings where smaller vines left their markings and how he carved animals around its core.

He makes canes, not to sell but just for his own pleasure. Said he probably had over 200. Some with so much meaning he looks at them everyday.

About midway in our conversation I teased him a bit and asked, "Well, when you going to tell me the meaning of life?" It was as if time stood still in that moment. He never looked up and quietly responded. "But why you ask the meaning in life...does it exist...yes it exists. It is. Life has meaning because it exist. We do not ask the meaning of a rose, or a sunset, or a birdsong...and surely you agree that human life is more wondrous than a rose, why should we demand that a human life be justified by some meaning...By just existing we matter." 

What a nice lesson from the Old Man With A Red Cane. It was so well spoken that nothing more needed to be said. We talked a while about his beauty. Not long, for I had invaded his privacy.  Odd thing though, he gave me a final farewell by saying, "I'm sorry if I disturbed your peace sir." And smiled. Even gave me a strong embrace..."Be well my dear friend."

Ego-My friends call me Doc






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The Sane Asylum Wisdom Series


Saturday, September 19, 2015

Stopped to Ponder



IF I HAD the MAGIC

If I had the magic
In my old gentle palm
I'll offer to heal the sick
free of any alms
and I'll end every tragic
lost of lives to calm
agony of the weak
with prayers and psalm.

If I had the magic
Upon my pen's charm
I'll write many comics
to create an alarm
mankind needs medics
to heal all ills that harm 
with love so strategic
to make all human palm
caring and full of magic 
in building peaceful barn
In sharing goodwill to men. 

Thank you Melvin Banggollay for your gift of inspiration 
Ego

Monday, September 14, 2015

Front Porch Psychology


"The cells of your body are always changing. They keep regenerating, they are new.
So it would seem you don't have old cells.
What you might have is an old attitude about your new self."

Take good care of your future!
Ego

Saturday, September 12, 2015

A funny thing happened on the way to therapy


"Your conscious should occasionally talk with it's brain.
The brain needs frequent feedback so it can adjust its perceptions."

Friday, September 11, 2015

The Sane Asylum Wisdom Series



I am knowledge and ignorance. I am shame and boldness. I am shameless; I am ashamed. I am strength and I am fear. I am war and peace. I am control and the uncontrollable. I am the union and the dissolution. I am the one whom they call Life, and you have called Death. – Fragments of text from ancient gnostic manuscript “The Thunder, Perfect Mind” found at Nag Hammadi, Egypt

Thursday, September 10, 2015

Old man fiddle


Old-man fiddle



A grey old man with legs a-limping, he finds himself a chair
Then he lifts a fiddle and bow with gentle care
And just like sunlight out of the rain,
 the old man's fiddle came to play again
And light this day up into flame
Just his dancing fiddling bow brings to life his sleepy toes
In this old heart till morning glows...
But no one stopped to listen
Thank  you Oteki Yuzum for the video...

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Monday, September 7, 2015

Sensing Beauty



On my morning walks I have walked by the Captain for three weeks now. He was always pleasant, with a nod. Never speaking...never really giving me a smile. He has a pensive nature, but always busy about his task of fishing, and always peering to the sea. On this particular morning, the Captain seemed different. I greeted him in my usual manner, "A good morning to you Captain." He looked up from his chair and said, "Have you ever seen this many mullet running?" I told him he would have to show me, that I did not notice. He quipped, "hell son, you are missing the meaning of the ocean."

He showed me how to watch the Pelicans and their interest of the sea. How high do the ospreys circle and with what purpose do they seek. Notice the slight silver glimmering of the mullet just beyond the first wave. "Did you just see the Angel fish chasing their pray." He would say. "Watch the tips of my rods, as they bow to the waves?" The step into his space was a magic walk into his beautiful world of the sea.

He pulled out his iPhone and showed me his catch of yesterday. A large Bull Nosed Shark and a Tarpon that weighted as much as he. He talked of their courage to the fight and their desire to never abandon their depths and see the light and his honor for their plight.

He told me great tales of his adventures of years past and just to test his knowledge of ocean lore, I asked, "Did you ever see Annabelle Lee?" Not at all to my surprise, he smiled and said, "I saw her once and she was a sight to see. I was on midnight watch of a following wind. I heard the rustling of my sails and there in the rigging appears Annabelle Lee. She paused with the moon casting the shadow of her beauty, and said "follow me." In a flash she was off into the dark, never looking back but begging with a plea, "follow me."

To sense the beauty of another another human is a special gift if only we would see. It took me three weeks, but what beauty he beholds as his peers to the oceans and always looking for his particular Annabella Lee.

I bid farewell to a new friend and leave him to his task of being alone. What joy he brought to me, there down by the sea. What a delight that I could finally sense his beauty.

His name is Captain Ron...
Doc 9/7/15

Our Children


Thursday, September 3, 2015

Stopped To Ponder

    


                               
All that you are attached to, all that you love,
all that you know, someday will be gone.

Knowing this, and that the world is your mind
which you create, play in, and suffer from,
is known as discrimination.

Discriminate between the Real and the Unreal,
the known is unreal and will come and go.
So stay with the Unknown, the Unchanging, the Truth. Papago

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

St Ann Street Friendship



From time to time, I meet a dear friend of mine at this small bar on St. Ann's. It is one of those particular places that you have to make an effort to find but once you enter you know it will always remain a mile post in your life. In many ways she becomes an ole friend because you know you will have many conversations in her protection that has little value but for the conversation itself.

On this day I go to meet my old friend once again. About 40 years I believe that friendship has lasted...don't see much of one another for long periods. We are not separated by design, we are separated by the search of our own adventure. Our adventures are totally different but in many ways the same. Never knowing what we will find or experience but expecting nothing but the observations we share along the way.

We live in a wonderful world that is full of beauty, charm and yes adventure. There is no end to the adventures that we can have if only we seek them with our eyes. I have a well placed Sexton in my study and any time I feel lost it reminds me that life is the great adventure. Life experiences with the risk is what defines the character. Life has become my friend. At times I become disconnected from her lessons, but when we meet again and embrace, our conversation will pick up at the very point where we left off. That's a true friend.

Darkness is beginning to fall, but I see a faint light in the doorway that reflects the shadow of my friendship. We embrace and our conversation begins just where we last left off...

Here is to Friendship...my dear friend down on St Ann Street.

Ego, my friends call me Doc

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