The Sane Asylum Masters Series

Riverfront Line

Dumaine Station 

New Orleans, 2016 ...Christopher Bryson

The Sane Asylum...Master Series

 portrait by Edmondo Senatore.

From Inside The Sane Asylum...my morning walk

On my morning walk...Impressions in the sand

Everyone carries their own disguise...
who is this depression in the sand?
Your truth can only be realized through your eyes...
but I only get an expression in the sand.
I would like to try and read your mind...
 all I see is your impression in the sand.
Are you clenching the rope of hopes last strand...
 here only a revision in the sand.
Do you carry fire and brimstone inside...
but do you even notice the confession in the sand?
Maybe your just trying to push it all aside.

Are you longing to find this feeling so grand...
Maybe just a touch of another's hand?
Is there darkness underneath a smile so kind...
So much reality declined...as you leave it all behind.

But I only see an expression of impressions in the sand

And Moon Beam adds:
Then the tide comes in and it is as though you have never been to make impressions in the sand.

...and,   ...then the tide whispers,.... no more...
Thanks for the ending Shasta...

From Inside The Sane Aslyum...my morning walk

Down by the Sea...29.5381*N, 81.2233* W

At dawn I chart my song

I call to all who live by the shore

I flung my net out into the sea

where the sand and silver shines its lyric lines

The waves begin to laugh as the helmsman sings

And I smile at the wrinkled shore and the salt from her soft green hair

Such are tales of ancient lore

As the helmsman chants his haunting song

Chant your song, make it loud and clear

So full of longing, the sea birds poise to hear

Never a fish have I caught so fair

Never a dream in tangled in my nets have I seen

The helmsman answered, learn the secrets of the sea

Only the brave will comprehend its mystery

I smile at the wrinkled shore

Unraveling velvet flows of the maiden's hair

I held her close where at rest she would not be

I sang the helmsman's song for her beauty that I see 

Helmsman, teach me that song till my heart is full

Tell me all the secrets of the sea

A joy to brief...then rolled away with the tide

Tomorrow...tomorrow I will again comprehend her mystery...

Stopped to Ponder

From The Study...a conversation of possibilities

A Political Drama Play
Written by: Amy G. Dala

The Amygdala is a small almond-shaped lobe in the brain that functions as the brain's primary Fear Processor.  The Amygdala is part of the R-Complex, the most primitive subsystem of the brain.

Most of our political drama is driven by the machinations of the Amygdala.  We don't like to talk about our fears, so the higher centers of the brain do one of two things.  We either map Fear directly onto Hate (e.g. xenophobia) or we semantically invert our Dreads into reciprocal Desires and claim to be pursuing our Desires (rather than running away from our Dreads).

When the Amygdala goes into overdrive, we get the worst of all politics, the hateful politics of Fascism.

Sometimes you just gotta tell your bloody Amygdala to chill out.

Unless, of course, you have an insatiable appetite for shreklisch political drama.

The End... Don't forget to vote...Amy G. Dala

Lessons From The Sane Asylum

It has been said that life is the most patient teacher. You will be presented with the same experience over and over until you learn the best way to deal with the situation. This is not because life is cruel. Rather, it is because things have a way of coming back to haunt us when we don't deal with them. One form of intelligence is the ability to learn from mistakes. When you are presented with a painful experience, take the time to think about how you can avoid it in the future. This is an example of a lesson learned.

From Inside The Sane Asylum

Homesteader, Jes B Rambling, just sent me this picture from St. Augustine Fl. with the note he finally located the real St. Augustine grass guarded by a canon. He said he was off to celebrate
his 64th birthday in Youngville..Happy Birthday Jes B...safe ramblings to you!

Stopped to Ponder Series.

”People and things do not upset us, we upset ourselves by believing they upset us.” A. Ellis 

Made Me Grin...

Dado...our in resident photographer just sent this in to post...seems he is feeling his age.
Heard the other day he spent 15 minutes looking for his lost iPhone in his car with the light from his iPhone.

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

"The day you decide that you are more interested in being aware of your thoughts
than you are in the thoughts themselves, that is the day you will find your way out."

Lessons from The Sane Asylum

And the young man went to visit the old master. While the master quietly served him tea, the young man talked about Life. The master poured the visitor’s cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The young man watched the overflowing cup until he could no longer restrain himself. “It’s overfull! No more will go in!” the young man blurted. “You are like this cup,” the master replied, “How can I show you Life unless you first empty your cup.”

Lessons from The Sane Asylum

After winning several archery contests, the young and rather boastful champion challenged a  master who was renowned for his skill as an archer. The young man demonstrated remarkable technical proficiency when he hit a distant bull’s eye on his first try, and then split that arrow with his second shot. “There,” he said to the old man, “see if you can match that!” Undisturbed, the master did not draw his bow, but rather motioned for the young archer to follow him up the mountain. Curious about the old fellow’s intentions, the champion followed him high into the mountain until they reached a deep chasm spanned by a rather flimsy and shaky log. Calmly stepping out onto the middle of the unsteady and certainly perilous bridge, the old master picked a far away tree as a target, drew his bow, and fired a clean, direct hit. “Now it is your turn,” he said as he gracefully stepped back onto the safe ground. Staring with terror into the seemingly bottomless and beckoning abyss, the young man could not force himself to step out onto the log, no less shoot at a target. “You have much skill with your bow,” the master said, sensing his challenger’s predicament, “but you have little skill with the mind that lets loose the shot.”

From The Road Series...

From The Road...

It's strange the people we pass and yet not experience...if only we look in their silence we just might hear the echoes of their life. Such was a time on this winters day...

As I passed his fingers were pressing the silent keys with loving art, and the flute he was caressing with the silence of his heart. "Play something for me maestro"...in his fading eyes was a story of life that was written fair. The morning sun glowing and warmed the winter in his hair. There was a glow of un extinguished embers deep in his eyes, as he nodded and begin to smile. A youthful smile. Strange how all the silver marrows still have a golden yesterday.

Now the flutist, bowed and slender no longer marks the time to the baton's lead, but he begin to  breathe a message tender through his mind and that mellow reed. The melody came with the wisdom of the ages, pulsing with the ebb and flow. It was a melody laden with the lore of the sages from a land so long ago.

His fading eyes was a story of a life that was written fair, as the glowing sun warmed the winter in his hair..every movement he rendered, sanctified his days of yore, and yes, the slender instrument echoed a tender reverence of a glorious score.

The sound strolled down the street where love and youth once strolled, through the flute's narrow ally, he was breathing out his soul... and his fingers pressed the silent keys with loving art and the flute he was caressing from the silence of his heart...

I called him Maestro...thanks for the lesson...you and the silence of your heart will never part.