The Writers’ Loft
The Writer’s Loft is the place in the monastery where we one can come when they want a quiet space in which to write. This is where you would share your literary and allegorical creativity — short (short) stories, poetry, parables, fables, metaphor, mythology and the like. Or, if you have a short snippet of something you’ve read that has a deeper archetypal symbolism (e.g. a little Zen story, or poem) that reflects the wisdom that resides in our right mind, and is consistent with the teachings of A Course in Miracles, please post it in this room.
Additionally, the Writer’s Loft houses a collection of all the poems found around the monastery. The collection includes original poetry, classical poetry and poems by Helen Schucman.
More poetry will be added here as it is posted.
Between Nothing and Nothingness
December 12th, 2009 at 9:06 pm
We wanted to post a quicklink to Paulo and the Magician — a wonderful part of the Writers’ Loft — for those who are looking to share their thoughts and experiences of Bernard’s book, as well as read his excerpts.
December 12th, 2009 at 9:19 pm
Here’s a little something that came tumbling out of me a few months ago while in a plush state of peace. Hope ya’ll like it:
My will is yours,
Laid gently at your feet—
in glad acceptance of what
He offers.
Let my self know
The Self that is beyond knowing
past the clouds of torment
and the fires of wrath.
I bow to you, my brother
so that you may lift me
and lead me
to my Father,
Who is One and All
My eyes gleam and
sparkle with your Love,
as I approach the gates of Home
with the radiance of Eternity
pulsing through my core.
December 12th, 2009 at 9:48 pm
Ahhh, Nick. It speaks…it really speaks. Thank you for giving me a picture of what it must be like.
Hugs!
December 12th, 2009 at 9:55 pm
Nickaroos, It’s really nice! ‘…in a plush state of peace.’ Nicely put!
December 13th, 2009 at 5:36 am
I have just discovered this site. I have studied the course alone for 25 years. For years I did not understand what I read, I only knew it fed my deep and I kept reading and studying…and listening. The words here are tremendously encouraging…I have always been a monk searching for a Cloister. Let me introduce myself, my name is Luz or light in Spanish. I deeply love the course and so appreciate all I am reading. Truly I am not alone.
December 13th, 2009 at 8:14 am
Nick – so kind and silent and present that poem is. I want to hug it ( I did) it hugged me back.
December 13th, 2009 at 8:54 am
Welcome Luzysol! On behalf of ACIM Monk (who is on a 40-day retreat) and all the monklings here… welcome to the Monastery of the Mists! I’m glad you found us, and we you!
December 13th, 2009 at 10:37 am
Luz, welcome. I am sure you will enjoy this place and the people you meet. And feel free to join in at any time. Warm hugs, DD.
December 13th, 2009 at 10:59 am
Luz: Gosh 25 years alone with the course! My hat off to you! Welcome hugs and ditto DD – look forward to you input if you feel like joining.
Welcome to Luz, sweet daughter of Light
alone with the Course
for thousands of nights
Here among friends may your light be extended
And with gentle laughter, egoic world be upended.
December 13th, 2009 at 11:19 am
Nick, I just loved your poem. The “got me” stanza was “I bow to you my brother…..etc”… {grabs kleenex}…. then happy laughter – “OK! I’m bowin’, I’m bowin!”
Luzysol, Welcome to the Monastery! We’re so glad to have you with us. Hide N Seek starts in half an hour (kidding) if you’d like to join us. It never works very good ’cause we laugh so much. Maybe you can think of a better game for monklings that can’t stop giggling….
Al, another spektakular one, Sistah!…
December 13th, 2009 at 11:35 am
Nick – what you write of so beautifully i have no memory of experiancing in that fullness … I’m so glad you have – and showed me where I’m heading … a beacon … thank-you! Hugs.
December 13th, 2009 at 12:16 pm
Beautiful Nick
December 13th, 2009 at 12:37 pm
explanations to new story-readers: I paint a story in one minut max, and then outline figurs/characters. I then wait for the first sentence and expect the story to be very short and likeable.
here is the image first:
December 13th, 2009 at 12:39 pm
Luzysol,” For years I did not understand what I read, I only knew it fed my deep….” I can’t explain- but that resonates with me though I have only studied for a few years. Welcome.
December 13th, 2009 at 12:41 pm
nr 4: false alarm
«..and the one who comes last, goes into the black cauldron…»
Hee! Joking! Cauldron is just a possibility, little blue you! Play – or fall? waken – or sleep? fear – or goofing?
Now, jumping in excitement: «Going to the mountain today,yay! Love going there, eat oatmeal, catch snails and slowbirds, chew sticks and bark at the moon a lot, swim in the mountain lake, shake water off in Mommy’s face – grin – eat porridge, just be plainly adorable, with melted butter. Sleep. Snore and drool and kick legs in sleep. Dream about snails and slowbirds and strange cries from nightskies and dew in wildflowers in mornings and scent scent scent
and oatmeal with brown sugarlumps, melting
December 13th, 2009 at 1:12 pm
Darling story, Nina. I want to come play and bark and chew and swim!! {Offers to share oatmeal and brown sugarlumps} Yum.
December 13th, 2009 at 1:52 pm
Al…#9 Rocks! It’s a swoosh!
Welcome, Luzysol, so glad to have you with us!
December 13th, 2009 at 2:12 pm
Al – i love that this world will end in laughter
December 13th, 2009 at 4:27 pm
Just beautiful Nick, thank you. Welcome Luzysol, you arrived to the right place. Here you will find lots of love, learning and fun.
Thanks Nina for your story and drawing, as always it is so graphic that you can almost see it and, of course, smell it.
December 13th, 2009 at 5:33 pm
Welcome Luzysol! I wish you love and learning.
Thanks for the kind words about my little poem…I can’t say I was in a earth-shattering place of oneness when I wrote it, however, just your average state of calm peace.
Nina, what an imaginative and lovely mind you have!
I can’t wait to see the all the stuff that ends up in this room.
hugs
December 13th, 2009 at 6:35 pm
Dear Luz – you will no doubt find plenty of “like-minded” course students here…
December 14th, 2009 at 9:58 am
Excellent Nick!
Welcome Luzysol!
December 14th, 2009 at 11:29 am
Beautiful poem Nick!
Al loved the way you expressed how Nick’s poem was for you…Beacon of Light indeed!
Welcome Luzysol!ditto DonnaD and grateful you found your way here to be with us.
Alyour Limericks just leap out of you like spontaneous fireworks!
Nina wonderful story and drawing!
December 14th, 2009 at 6:46 pm
Nick
“I bow to you, my brother
so that you may lift me
and lead me
to my Father,
Who is One and All”
………………………
Welcome Luzysol ! please consider yourself gently and lovingly hugged by all..
………….
I love your paintings Nina and the images that tumble out of your playful mind xoxoxo….love you
December 15th, 2009 at 9:52 pm
Wow, beautiful, all the above. Really nice writing Nick, “My will is yours,
Laid gently at your feet”. How we all long to do that in truth. Luzysol,I only knew it fed my deep….” like you Pam that stuck with me. Nina you always show us how beautiful it is to really share, thank you. Al my hats off to you girl. Luzysol,a big welcome, and I feel sure that your study has left precious gifts. I hope you will share them with us. Mother Superior Mam, your Mothership, you sure do get around. Does your new garments have some special powers perhaps? Love to all who walk the halls, and every one else too of course.
God bless us every one
December 16th, 2009 at 1:21 am
Nina, your candle from me has gone away, so I want to post the words here,
“Paint me a picture in soft blue and red,
Then tell me the story as I go to bed…”
Love you so, Nina..
Lawrence: It’s the shoes…
December 16th, 2009 at 7:53 am
Nick that was definitely a “plush state of peace”. I agree with all the comments not much more to add than another thank you.
Luz a warm welcome to you :)
I suspect the Writers’ Loft will soon surpass Grotto entries. There is so much talent here. Nina has the special gift to offer a painting with her words (I like this last submission very playful).
December 16th, 2009 at 9:47 am
M♚M, I saw it yesterday – what a rush when i realized it was for me!! I lighted one for you right back :-)
Lawrence: not everybody knows this, But M.S. has gotten The Red Witch’es Shoes, the ones where you click the heels 3 times – (how on earth did you land those shoes, girlfriend!!) Haven’t ya’ll heard the clicking sounds, and suddenly Mother is there?? well. There it is.
May i borrow them some time, Mother?
December 17th, 2009 at 12:45 am
Nina, thanks for the heads up! Mother Superior, So, its the shoes. There is magic there to be sure. I had a friend from grade school named Ray Conley. He was the best man at our wedding, and my best friend. He took my wife sharon when she was pregnant with our first child to see “The Muppets Take Manhatten”. How can you not love a guy like that? I am sorry, everything is a story with me! But, Raymond died of Mad Cow Disease and it broke my heart.
We had a saying that when a person put another before themselves, well, we called them “Good Shoes”. You are Good Shoes MS, and I want to thank you for helping Monk in this way, and of course those like myself that need all the help they can get!
God bless us every one!
December 17th, 2009 at 10:19 am
Yes, Debbi, that is what you are doing – you are helping Monk (and us) as Mother Superior…besides clicking heels of red shoes and throwing water ballons and drinking liqour and smoking those sigaars.
I just missed calling you Deb for a moment…but well aware of how you have grown into your now robes in such a magnificent way.
December 17th, 2009 at 10:47 am
Thank you Nina and Lawrence…. {{Happy tears}}
December 17th, 2009 at 6:23 pm
Thanks to all for your warm welcome. I am learning all about the Mists here. All alone with the Course for so long…how do you explain it to those who are unfamiliar? Only that now it has become essential like breath, life sustaining like blue blood. My ego has fought long and hard, after awhile I think she has succumbed…. but she clings to the dream. I often feel like Joan of Arc. Called to battle a war inside that I often cannot define and fear I cannot win. Led by a voice I know is real yet only I can hear. Tender hearted. Arrow straight and quiver full I ride a great white steed into the midst of the Lonely Ego War inside of me. There is no other path. It is impossible to turn back now. The right words always come to me. I sit in quiet and ask the Holy One take me to the words I need to hear. It never fails. I open the text randomly and the words are there for me to ponder… specific and always in context to my dilemma or question. A daily morning miracle.
Listening only to the voice of Spirit to guide me. I actually heard Kenneth W. speak at least 20+ years ago. Somewhere in Southern Michigan, at a seminar I cannot fully recall. I remember him though. A young KW speaking words I hungered for but did not comprehend. Nonetheless I absorbed them to my quiet place to be brought out and studied later. In the closet with The Course, of course.
I am delighted to have found you fellow wanderers, minstral saints and woebegones, monks and nuns, and seekers of the Spirit Holy.
First Light is the one I love most,
Luz from Ohio
December 17th, 2009 at 7:40 pm
I recently heard this poem read and I could not get enough of it!
enjoy
I Know the Way You Can Get
I know the way you can get
When you have not had a drink of Love:
Your face hardens,
Your sweet muscles cramp.
Children become concerned
About a strange look that appears in your eyes
Which even begins to worry your own mirror
And nose.
Squirrels and birds sense your sadness
And call an important conference in a tall tree.
They decide which secret code to chant
To help your mind and soul.
Even angels fear that brand of madness
That arrays itself against the world
And throws sharp stones and spears into
The innocent
And into one’s self.
O I know the way you can get
If you have not been drinking Love:
You might rip apart
Every sentence your friends and teachers say,
Looking for hidden clauses.
You might weigh every word on a scale
Like a dead fish.
You might pull out a ruler to measure
From every angle in your darkness
The beautiful dimensions of a heart you once
Trusted.
I know the way you can get
If you have not had a drink from Love’s
Hands.
That is why all the Great Ones speak of
The vital need
To keep remembering God,
So you will come to know and see Him
As being so Playful
And Wanting,
Just Wanting to help.
That is why Hafiz says:
Bring your cup near me.
For all I care about
Is quenching your thirst for freedom!
All a Sane man can ever care about
Is giving Love!
From: “I Heard God Laughing: Renderings of Hafiz: by Daniel Ladinsky.
December 17th, 2009 at 7:45 pm
Luzysol, we are delighted that you have found us… I loved your line “In the closet with The Course”… it reminded me of those few times I have had where I felt ‘closeted with Love’.. what a neat phrase.
December 17th, 2009 at 7:49 pm
Wonderful Annie, I really enjoyed the poem.. as I take another little sip. {Hugs}
December 17th, 2009 at 7:54 pm
What a beautiful poem, Annie. Thank you.
December 17th, 2009 at 8:07 pm
Annie ~
When I was a kid there was an expression kids would say to the one at the drinking fountain, ” Hurry up, you’re drinking up the reservoir”.
Here, we all want each other to drink deep and have as much as we need. Thank for the poem, I’m still drinking!
December 17th, 2009 at 8:08 pm
Hi Anil!
December 17th, 2009 at 8:12 pm
Hi Michele -
Saw your nice note yesterday in the Infirmary. Will write you later (and I need to write Lawrence too). Isn’t that poem by Annie something else ? I love the way the Sufis speak/write of God and Love…
December 17th, 2009 at 8:51 pm
Hi Anil ~
I’m so glad Lawerence used the phrase, everything is a story with me, as you’ve noticed it can be with me at times too. I too love the way Sufi’s write of Love. There’s a man called Coleman Barks who does a beautiful job translating his poetry. One of my Kathak dance buddies used to perform storytelling with him when he read.
I used to go Sufi dancing, right here at a place in Sausalito. I have no idea where as it was over 35 years ago. I bought a beautiful old style very elegant long dress with fringe at a flea market event they had one night. I later used that dress when I played the role of “The Hollywood Actress” with a group of thespians doing a period piece set in 1915 on board the Napa Valley Wine Train Murder Mystery evening. They still perform the exact same mystery, I did it for about 10 years up until 2003. It was alot of fun and it was basically alot of improv interacting with the guests on board the train, with set peices of action that took place to reveal the mystery.
I had the most fun interacting with the people and putting them in their own personal spotlight and making them the focus and the star.
December 18th, 2009 at 4:41 am
Light and Sun, so enjoying your post and the morning miracles. I have them too – all day. Ask Him for help, turn the pages, and there it is – on the spot for you, ma’m. So glad yo have you here, Luz. (SUN is sol in Norwegian, too!)
Annie: are you Annie in L.A. – back again for good?
Michele – you remind me of the fun ( and tribuations) of the theatre. I always loved to see the illusions, knowing that they were illusions – but quite necessary for the audience to enjoy the play :-)
December 18th, 2009 at 7:06 am
Michele~ Loved post #40 thanks for sharing. We should set up a Mystery Train ride around the Grotto one night; that would be so much fun. I debated where I would post that poem because it felt like it belonged in the Grotto with all the squirrels,the distillery and the drinking up of Love we do there. I will definitely check out Coleman Barks.
Nina~yes its me just used a different computer…got an early Christmas present (a MAC like Mother Superior…not the same size, hers is huge…as it should be to keep an eye on all of us, mine is a lap top; now I can take with me to work and hide in my bedroom and sneak away to read whispers. Still, I can’t keep up. But I enjoying trying.
Love and Hugs to All especially you Dear Monk up there in those white mountains.
Annie
December 18th, 2009 at 9:49 am
Annie, A Macbook laptop is certainly a blessing when one wants to sneak away and hunt down secret whispers in the Monastery… I recall how handy it was for us all to have one when we were all sneaking through the halls stealing brownies out of the kitchen, looking for hidden treasures and peeking in crooks and crannies around here in the middle of the night.. getting in trouble… It helped us stay one step ahead of Head Monk. Or so we thought… Ahh, sweet memories.
December 18th, 2009 at 10:24 am
Sweet memories you say – like it is all in our youth…It seems like so long ago, doesn’t it? at least a year or so – but it was only SEPTEMBER this year that we got the Grotto – ! weird, isn’t it – this feeling that we have known each other for always -Debbi got her leather skirt and was called to the office, think it was September too -Paulo came 11/8, Dreamy came Aug 28th – what a huge journey I have been on since august with all of you!
December 18th, 2009 at 11:10 am
Yes. Like Momma always said, “life is a Monastery full of life and screaming wild monks and nuns..” or was that “box a’chocolates..”
So right, Nina. Much has occurred here this year, in our hearts, through our keyboards (and our cats), in Grotto’s, Snuggery’s, Screamatorium’s, pictures, Monk posts, Monk Classes, and bus rides though the Text.. Maybe it seems like such a long time ago because we have all grown a little. A little less fearful, a little less resistant, our ‘maybes’ turning into ‘I’ll try its’, with a loving teacher that always tells me “ten more minutes” when I get scared and ask “Are we there yet?”
If I were to write a song here in The Writer’s Loft, I would simply list the names of every single Monk and Monkling that has ever appeared, watched, listened, wrote, or whispered (or not) here at La Monastére Beloved, starting with Head Monk. What a beautiful tune that would be, huh?
December 18th, 2009 at 11:54 am
Amen Mother, I’m already hearing the angels’ voices.
December 18th, 2009 at 6:18 pm
What song is it when we stop and listen?
Is it mournful or blissful?
All of these touch the face in softness
Where the welling tear drop is hope disguised.
We mourn the past gone by, but it was never us.
We conjure images of what will be, neither that are we.
We merely stand at the fork in the road between past and future.
And we dry our tears, calm our inward screams, and ask for peace.
What is this song of peace?
How does it sound? What notes does it make?
It has no notes. It needs no sound.
It is the silent unity of knowing
we need not be the notes of past and future.
When we ask for the song, we find it within ourselves.
December 18th, 2009 at 7:13 pm
Laura, how beautiful. These words touch reach to an ancient place inside and warm me well. Lovely lady, thank you for this gift to us. Love, DD.
December 18th, 2009 at 10:53 pm
Wow T.S. Laura (like T.S.Elliot) – I’m in awe of the fountain of loving creativity bubbling out of you! Keep it up for as long as you want – I’m enjoying it very much. It’s kinda serendipitous – unexpected pleasant things turning up at odd moments.
December 19th, 2009 at 12:20 am
This is Exquisite Laura. Yours is a song of prayer that strikes the receptive tuning fork of oneness reverberating inside us all. Thank you for this beautiful gift tonight on the eve of the winter solstice.
December 19th, 2009 at 12:27 am
I got ahead of myself and thought tomorrow was the 21st…so not quite eve of the Winter Solstice..
December 19th, 2009 at 1:46 am
Just beautiful, Laura. A real gift. Thanks.
December 19th, 2009 at 10:35 am
Laura, I remember in another room here at the Monastery you posed the question “what does the Song sound like?” This poem is especially meaningful for me in light of your recent question. Love you so much.. M♡M
December 19th, 2009 at 10:57 am
Laura aka T.S.Laura (good one Al) post #47 beautiful just beautiful.
and Mother Superior a list of all names seen and unseen; Head Monk knew you could lead this band with that long seegarr. (points to cymbals)
Hugs to everyone,
Annie
December 19th, 2009 at 11:53 am
And a-one and a-two and a-_♪♬♩ Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, laughing all the way ♫♪_ {{{Hugs Annie}}}
December 20th, 2009 at 3:30 pm
a truly lovely poem, laura. thank you so much for sharing.
December 20th, 2009 at 3:46 pm
Don we now our gay apparel…♪♬♩♪♬♩
fa la la, fa la la, la la la.
♪♬♩♪♬♩♪♬♩
December 20th, 2009 at 8:08 pm
Laura, you went deep within with an obvious ease, you are the song luv.
God bless us every one
December 21st, 2009 at 1:44 pm
I did not write this, it is from a Christmas card I received this morning, and I just love the words.
If You Look For Me at Christmas
you won’t need a special star -
I’m no longer just in Bethlehem,
I’m right there where you are.
You may not be aware of Me -
amid the celebrations
You’ll have to look beyond the stores
and all the decorations.
But if you take a moment
from your list of things to do
And listen to your heart, you’ll find
I’m waiting there for you.
You’re the one I want to be with,
you’re the reason that I came,
And you’ll find Me in the stillness
as I’m whispering your name.
Love, Jesus
__________________________________
God Blesses Us Every One
Merry Christmas,
Mother
December 21st, 2009 at 2:34 pm
this ” “you’re the reason that I came”… thanks, MoM
December 26th, 2009 at 11:53 am
Dear Monklings and Mother -this is a bedside story for you tonight, should you want it.
Love from Nina
*
32 The wish
“See, Mary, I have so many stories to tell you! Secrets, secrets…who would’ve thought that I could grow into such a wondrous light-being…the monster hide has truly melted now! I used to be the collector of dirty secrets – you know the ones that really stinks, they are SO taboo… but they are not really dirty, see. They do not even exist in reality – but they are believed in, Mary! OH! They believe and believe and do not realize that it is their beliefs that make the stories real for them. Oh I am so happy that I don’t believe in the seriousness of the stories any longer. I AM HAPPY! I am home now in the arms of love. No more sleeping. No more seriousness.”
“Little yellow one, what is your wish now?”
“A kiss, Mary. And that you stroke my yellow hair.”
And Mary smiles and kisses Yellow on his forehead – soft as suede skin, and with a faint whiff of vanilla.
They sit themselves down and start playing with delicate cool marbles. Pastel-colored – some are translucent, with golden nuggets inside, making delicate bell-like sounds. They look so innocent and playful on the ground. Mary kneels down and b l o w s on them, and they are clicking into each other – like a glassperlenspiel -(almost like the chiming from the last story, but more distinct sounds now.) Yellow weeps tears of happiness and release, listening to them: he knows he could not hear these sounds if he believed he was guilty.
No more hiding in his own delusions now. Just allowing himself to be loved and taken care of.
Mary has a tender spot for his wonderful soft and round yellow belly. When she puts her ear to it, she starts to giggle.
December 26th, 2009 at 12:20 pm
Dear Nina: Thanks so much for this very comforting present. I love your stories. They always awake in me a sort of different feelings. This one hit my heart and gave me a lot of warmth and comfort. We are not guilty, we can play and rest in peace. You are so talented and so open I always enjoy a lot reading all your writings. Lots of hugs and love to you, Lisi
December 26th, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Dear Mom: Thanks for sharing this with us. They are, as you say, beautiful words, but most of all they are a beautiful reminder of something we usually forget, Jesus is always with us waiting patiently for us to take his hand. I hope this reminder stands with me every time I feel lost and alone. Thank you for all your caring and love around all the Monastery. Hugs and love, Lisi.
December 26th, 2009 at 12:34 pm
‘Just allowing himself to be loved and taken care of.’ That is true forgiveness, isn’t it? Letting Jesus or Mary or Ken or whatever symbol works for you, letting that symbol love you totally.
Our crap is just a bunch of excuses to halt that love. Not receive. And so not give.
I’m not worthy because I’ve done/thought this, that, and the other. Yes, but… Yes, but… Yes, but…
That’s where the note in our pocket is so helpful. Gentleness, and we’ll get there.
Thank you Nina, I really, really enjoyed today’s story. Lisa
December 26th, 2009 at 1:14 pm
Nina, that is just the sweetest story and picture.. you’ve climbed right into my heart again with your picture-tale-telling… I love you so much, and appreciate all the love you bring here to us…
Love,
Mother
December 26th, 2009 at 4:25 pm
Nina ~
Tears of Gratitude and Appreciation for this beautiful true story. Lisi, Lisa and M♥S loved all your whispers about it. This story soothes that place in me that deeply needs this villages’ healings and reminders. This is my favorite Christmas story this season Nina!
December 26th, 2009 at 5:01 pm
Thank you, Lisi
Love,
Mom
December 27th, 2009 at 3:23 am
Oh nina … “he knows he could not hear these sounds if he beleived he was guilty’…and then lisi and lisa – ‘let in love’ and then just a whisper in my own mind ‘trust the love that you are’all coming together in an ‘ah ha moment. Sometimes i can almost physically feel the ‘chink’of my mind being turned another notch in homeward direction. this was a lovely lovely gift to come into today Nina – giggling mary, sweet little yellow … thank-you sister. Love your gift of heart touch words and gentle warmth pictures. they really lift up and blow on my soul with a pixie’s charm and a fairie’s jinkly ways
December 29th, 2009 at 3:08 pm
Al very dear, here’s the wondrous Ogden Nash:
Who wants my jellyfish?
I’m not sellyfish!
A flea and a fly in a flue
Were imprisoned, so what could they do?
Said the fly, “let us flee!”
“Let us fly!” said the flea.
So they flew through a flaw in the flue.
—and maybe my favorite:
The Pig
The pig, if I am not mistaken
Supplies us sausage, ham and bacon.
Let others say his heart is big –
I call it stupid of the pig
There was a young girl from old Natchez
Whose garments were always in patchez
When she was asked why
She was wont to reply
‘Cause whenever Ah itchez – Ah scratchez..
This is for the grotto, really:
Candy
Is dandy
But liquor
Is quicker.
I have this beautiful memory with a new sweetheart, we were about 19 and studying philosophy, and went to the american embassy’s library, which at that time everybody could use without any identification at all(except a library-card.) And I was browsing the shelves and took out Ogden and read the jellyfish-poem, and it was a like a a light had been turned on and lightened up this delightful silly world where it was allowed to play with words, and i fell to the floor and started to read out MUCH to loud about the jellyfish and we laughed like maniacs, and were kindly asked to keep it quiet, please, but that was impossible so we borrowed the book and found a bench somewhere and read to each others and laughed ourselves sweaty.
December 29th, 2009 at 4:18 pm
Nina thank you for helping educate me… I`ve heard of Ogden Nash but not read any of his work… love its whimsicality ! and i can see how it has influenced you and helped shaped your delightful work…..I am glad you added the library anecdote :)
I have not caught up with all these posts yet, but just now i have read “the wish”. What a lovely lovely painting and story – makes me feel limp and soft…hugs for you xoxoxooxo
December 29th, 2009 at 6:08 pm
Aw – that’s a lovely memory Nina! Thanks for directing me to him – inspiration!
December 29th, 2009 at 7:01 pm
I agree, Nina!! Al does sound a lot like Nash!! And thanks for posting these delicious samples… like Winnie, I also loved your cute story of the laughing too hard and you left the library!! I just love stories about laughing too hard. {;-)
Love,
Mother
December 31st, 2009 at 10:52 am
Pumpkins – here is a nightnight-story. May we all have our bestest year ever, with less and less doubt and more and more not-seriousness(except when it is really serious.)
Here is nr 40:
40 you have to move
“No no no, I won’t I won’t!” wimps little Wimpygloom, shivering in the tepid water of Genesaret Sea – now mysteriously re-located to the marketplace of old Jerusalem. Don’t ask. In front of her is the All-seeing Eye, mounted on a pillar. Tired of all these wimps from people or creatures afraid of water.
The bullfrog Porgy behind Wimpy enjoys his lofty position. He gives her swimming-advise, but Wimpy will not listen: she has made up her mind. She hates that wet stuff that gets into her mouth and nose and eyes – it is sweet water and it etches her delicate mucous membranes.
The All-seeing Eye sighs. “I can’t bear this any longer. I will abdicate from the position as All-seer.” And he does. Closes his big eye. Well! Powerful effect, I must say. Little Wimpygloom forgets the danger of the water, takes her fist out of her mouth and starts laughing. Her little round yellow silky shiny belly shakes with laughter, she looses balance and falls backwards. A huge splash hits Porgy before he falls into the water too and hits Wimpy, who bites him in the butt. That makes him jump right back onto his branch, and when Wimpy has her head out of the wet stuff, she now observes a strange phenomenon:
The pillar has opened, and a calm and radiant woman in shimmering white is coming out, carrying a little basket with Verbena flowers in yellow and pink – and some Juicy Fruit.
Porgy and Wimpy are chewing and blowing bubbles, the Verbena flowers are covering Genesaret Sea, what a wonderful sight. Wimpy slowly lets herself lay on her back, and to her great surprise, floats in the sea of heavenly scented flowery water to the other side of Genesaret Sea.
“I thought you’d never come, Sweetie” says Jesus, and they start splashing water at each other. All the little Verbena-flowers are giggling with pink and yellow voices.
December 31st, 2009 at 12:37 pm
Nina, as ever, your picture and story are just delightful!!
Thank you for the New Years’ present and night-night story!!
I especially love the playfullness with Jesus at the last paragraph, and
“I thought you’d never come, Sweetie”
December 31st, 2009 at 3:16 pm
Thank-you Nina! Gorgeous story to start the year with … i marvel at your inventiveness – names like ‘wimpygloom’ … phrases like ‘pink and yellow voices’… i just adore being pleasantly startled with such unique word use and imagery… Happy New Year from sunny NZ to snowy Norway! xoxo
December 31st, 2009 at 7:23 pm
For Nina and all Monklings
At the very end of 2009
Wimpygloom met for the very last time
the foggy, boggy, heavy, shrouded past
Looking, musing and Remembering instead to laugh.
May you laugh every day in 2010!
January 1st, 2010 at 6:51 am
Oh Laura!!!you are a master of seeing what it is all about!Thanks for that, and the wish for laughing for us all!
January 2nd, 2010 at 12:00 am
Jerusalem has been washed clean and Wimpygloom,{Yellow`s little brother] is a marshwiggle no longer.
Allseeing I { who thought he saw all } is exhausted from trying too hard. As the pillars of society dissolve so too does fear and all that is left is Joy and sweet Jesus……
January 2nd, 2010 at 8:48 am
Beautiful story Nina, simply beautiful, God bless you Keeper of the Shards. And of Course…
God bless us every one
January 2nd, 2010 at 9:39 am
oh…Winnie…you …oh…Lawrence, please tell me what is the Shards?
now it feels like something in me moved into the place meant for it
January 2nd, 2010 at 6:22 pm
Beautiful story Nina and Laura TS such a great response in your story and wish for us all in 2010, and in yours as well Winnie. Lawrence dearlooking forward to learning what a Keeper of the Shards is.
January 2nd, 2010 at 6:29 pm
T.S.
ElliottLaura, thank you for the very fine poetry wish for much laughter in 2010… As you point out, that was our first mistaken belief, wasn’t it… we forgot to laugh.Much love,
Mother
January 2nd, 2010 at 6:35 pm
Poem for us All written by Rebecca Nile aka The Bubble Lady here in Marin. She is a bright light in our Monday eve ACIM study group. Listening to her voice, reading whatever section is her turn in the text, is for me, the female counterpart of how beautiful, soothing and the just rightness of hearing Monk’s voice in his classes.
She wrote this some time last year and I came across it these last few days.
Holy Spirit take my hand, Lead me on my Way.
You’re the light within tht shines, its what I choose this day.
Holy Spirit look with me, and there’s nothing I’ll hold back.
You’re my all, my everything, with You there is no lack.
Holy Spirit with Your help, I know I can forgive.
Myself, my brothers, and this world, the only way to live.
Holy Spirit I know You’re here, in this space so vast and clear
This holy place you comofrt me, for here there is no fear.
Holy Spirit be my eyes, teach me how to see.
With true vision I will know, I put my trust in Thee.
Holy Spirit I know You’re Here, within my mind I find,
A Place of Peace awaiting me. It’s Here I will abide.
January 3rd, 2010 at 5:07 am
Possibly, this could be the year of knock-knock jokes.
(LTS)Knock, knock
(Jesus) Yes?
(LTS) I don’t remember signing up for a mother of the bride gig.
(Jesus) Torturing yourself comes with the territory.
(LTS) So, do you know any jokes about wedding planners?
(Jesus) They rearrange sand in a desert while the wind is blowing.
January 3rd, 2010 at 10:42 am
Laura!awesome!!more!
January 3rd, 2010 at 11:38 am
Thanks for the poem from the bubble lady Michele. I found myself quickly drifting into peace while reading these gentle words. Lovely gift to us all.
January 3rd, 2010 at 3:56 pm
(LTS)Knock, knock…Yo, Jesus?
(Jesus) Yes?
(LTS) This wedding thingy is insanity. The budget alone is enough to buy a new car.
At least with the car, you could still drive it for years…a wedding lasts one day
and ends in cake crumbs and empty liquor bottles. And do you realize the divorce
rate is 50%?
(Jesus) And do you realize this is not real?
(LTS) Then how come I have to help choose colors for it?
(Jesus) If it helps, think car colors. Nobody has to know you’re smiling about car colors.
January 3rd, 2010 at 7:11 pm
Just found & read your story, Nina! What beautiful ideas and such a delightful ending or beginning.
January 4th, 2010 at 1:13 am
T S Laura – you’re nuts … i like very much!
January 4th, 2010 at 4:19 am
Al…you are right, I am nuts. Gotta whole lot of talking to Jesus this year and
forgiveness lessons out the wazoo. Thanks for putting up with me!
January 4th, 2010 at 9:09 am
:::chuckling at conversation:::: Laura, if I could share as well as you about my forgiveness lessons, I’d be a saint right now ;-)) I gather there is a wedding coming up in your family. Deep breaths…. hugs, DD.
January 4th, 2010 at 9:59 am
Laura, since you are choosing colors – are you the bride?? or mother…
January 4th, 2010 at 1:42 pm
Nina this is for you~
and all others who are fans of Milarepa. I came home late last night from an annual soup party held at the beginning of the year. The circle origination was a group of folks/ friends who all attended the Ali Akbar Khan College of Music and Dance back in the 70’s and has grown to include the offsprings and other creative circles of folks of all ages. I was a fan of Milarepa in my, counter culture exploring other ways of wisdom, youth. I discovered I was pregnant with my daughter while living in Japan. Gary Snyder had taken us to the temple in the mountains of Kyoto,that was our home base, when we first arrived to Japan.
We returned to Kyoto after traveling throughout Asia. Her father and I had been living in India,I, like all the other flower children of the time wanted to give her a name with deep meaning. Gary took us to a friend of his who lived outside the city and had a huge buddhist libary. We had already decided that if we were going to have a boy, we would name him Marpa after Milarepa’s tough task master Guru. We also like the name of Marpa’s wife Damema who, as you know, was as kind, compassionate and empathetic as Marpa seemed not to be. In this libary I found a book entitled Gods and Goddesses of the Buddhist Pantheon. There I discovered the name Lasya, who was a depicted aspect in the famous Tanka the Tibetan Wheel of Life and Death. She was in the peaceful maternal portion of the wheel and all it said about her was that she was depicted sitting on a white sow, holding a mirror in her hand smiling coquetteishly with the mirror symbolizing enlightenment. We gave her the first and middle name Lasya Damema. We found that Damema meant One who is without egotism. So we were sold on the name!
Anyway back to your love of green nettle eating asthetic Milarepa and why the next piece you might enjoy. At the end of the party last night Fred, and his actress partner Laura, performed their piece on Milarepa. It was absolutely awesome and Fred said they’re taking it to TX next week and I’ll find out where they are performing it in case any of our TX folks might like to attend.
Fred mentioned that a few years back when he first came up with the idea, at the college he was teaching at one of his students asked if he could put it up on youtube. It’s a much better version now, and is great with a male and female dividing the roles of the gods and the music is better too but here it is:
January 4th, 2010 at 1:47 pm
Nina…I am the mother of the bride. I have never done this before…and can’t say that I want to do this ever again. I do have another daughter…so that is possible…but I am going to bribe her if that ever happens…to elope!!! The pain began when I insisted that we set a budget, otherwise it was going to go sky high. At the same time, the groom’s parents hired
a wedding planner…which can be nice, possibly, but then I didn’t know what my role
was…except for keeping everyone within the budget. Then…guess what??…the wedding planner neglected to put the rehearsal dinner into the budget…which is
traditionally provided by the groom’s parents and they wanted one in order to be kosher
in the eyes of family and guests…but because it hadn’t been budgeted for…the groom’s mother attacked the wedding dress and wanted to take it back and cut its cost
in order to have the rehearsal dinner. My daughter wants that dress. We are waiting for the groom’s mother to come to her senses about the dress. I think things have reasonably settled down
for the moment…so possibly this colors thing seems rather trivial to me, considering we have faced much bigger issues of late. My daughter wanted it to be a mother/daughter thing. We live 500 miles apart, so the mother/daughter thing may not
be realistic. She tells me she wants purple to be one of her colors. When I think purple, I think orchid, since it is a late summer wedding. Actually, the color purple she envisions is plum…on the blue side and a deep, deep color…and very hard to match with anything. Possibly, that is something she needs to find out instead of me??? Just like how to set a budget???
I’m thinking I need to play dumb from here on out and agree with everyone. Colors? Maybe this isn’t really about colors but somebody wanting mother/daughter time in working on something together? If any of you “wedding experts” out there can explain this stuff to me…I probably could use advice.
Could I be caught up in a Steve Martin movie? Should I move this to the Scream-a-torium?
Well, anyway, Nina, that is my color dilemma. Weird. Ego is just going crazy with this one. :)
January 4th, 2010 at 2:12 pm
Here is the info on the Milarpa Performance:
MILAREPA
Written by Fred Curchack
Performed by Laura Jorgensen and Fred Curchack
Thursdays through Saturdays, January 14 – 30
At the Bath House Cultural Center/521 E. Lawther Dr./Dallas
I took out the low cost he had in this pr peice since it might break the Monastery rules.
Reservations: 972 740-2769
The 11th century poet/saint MILAREPA is the most beloved figure in Tibetan history. His life story is a fantastical tale of magic, murder, and redemption. It is also one of the world’s great accounts of the extraordinary efforts needed to transcend suffering and attain enlightenment.
MILAREPA is performed with theater, dance, shadow art, and blues, rap and rock songs. It is adapted from the classic Tibetan Buddhist texts The Life of Milarepa and The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa.
MILAREPA is the third play in Fred and Laura’s Great Eastern Sun Trilogy which includes NOH: Angels, Demons, and Dreamers and MONKEY: The Quest to the West.
Reviews of Fred and Laura’s recent shows
MONKEY: The Quest to the West:
“THE ZEN OF FUN … outrageously funny throughout. It’s the lightest-hearted of Mr. Curchack’s wondrous productions to date … these virtuosos’ mastery of voices, silly and serious, and of body language make the action clear at all times … ultimately Monkey is about having fun.”
– Lawson Taitte, The Dallas Morning News, 10/15/08
“Lively, comic Monkey enlightens … crazy – and amazingly athletic – monkey business … the two high-energy performers portray some 40 different characters … magical performers … Monkey’s on a mission – and if we find ourselves laughing out loud at some of the bureaucrats and spiritual shenanigans he encounters – well, then, we are sharing in our hero’s hard-earned enlightenment.”
– Martha Heimberg, Turtle Creek News, 10/16/08
for NOH: Angels, Demons, & Dreamers:
“Top Ten of 2007 … Genius … Brilliant … five masterpieces, all brilliantly performed, in less than 90 minutes. … Great depth and great delicacy – you’ll find them both in this one.” — Lawson Taitte, Dallas Morning News
“… genius … astonishing … leaves you weak with laughter … This is theater as sacred art … The work of Curchack and Jorgensen is humbling, both for the long discipline it shows and the spiritual mastery it implies.”
– Glenn Arberry, Park Cities People (People Newspapers)
“Incredibly, these two amazing performers draw us in to another world in minutes, and 90 minutes later release us to the ordinary universe. I wanted to stay — and so will you. … Theatre doesn’t actually offer a more totally cathartic experience than this, even in the most lavish of productions.”
– Martha Heimberg, Turtle Creek News
“Spellbinding, elegant, heart wrenching, a tour de force — the production sped by so fast I wasn’t sure if I dreamed it all. It’s magnificent and pure magic! … Curchack and Jorgensen are both masters of their craft, creating art that captivates its audience and illuminates truth.” — Alexandra Bonifield, Pegasus News
Bios
Fred Curchack has created over seventy original plays, twenty-six of them solos, and his performances have been featured at dozens of international theatre festivals. After attending the High School of Performing Arts and Queens College, Fred studied Indian Kathakali, Japanese Noh, Balinese Topeng, choreography with Alwin Nikolais, and he trained with Grotowski’s Polish Theater Lab. He is Professor of Art and Performance at The University of Texas at Dallas. This is his eighth theatrical collaboration with Laura.
Laura Jorgensen leading roles in the San Francisco Bay Area include: Edward Albee’s Three Tall Women, Sam Shepard’s Lie of the Mind, Terrence McNally’s A Perfect Ganesh, G.B. Shaw’s Heartbreak House, Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads, Athol Fugard’s The Road to Mecca, Oscar Wilde’s The Ideal Husband, Sarah Ruhl’s The Clean House, Philip Barry’s Philadelphia Story, John O’Keefe’s Glamour (premiere) and Queer Theory (premiere), and Eric Overmeyer’s On the Verge, and eight collaborations with Fred.
January 4th, 2010 at 2:20 pm
Michele, so many places we seem to meet and connect.
Too many words too fast for my Norwegian ears – but >i loved the last sentence “we could speculate until tomorrow, when we will be back in the Samsorrow(loved that one – Ogden nash’ish!!) thanks for putting this up.
And I AM glad that I do the Course now.
January 4th, 2010 at 2:40 pm
Nina ~ Yep didn’t occur to me the words might be too fast for your Norwegian ears. I’ll ask Fred for the words and see if he feels OK bout that. They’ve performed that piece at the local Green Gulch Zen retreat center and all the monklings howled.
January 4th, 2010 at 2:46 pm
Thanks Michele, no dear that’s not necessary, got the impression all right
seems that you are in a very lively artistic community – makes me remember old theatre days with lots of experimentation, dance, mime, puppets, black theatre. Love the process of art unfolding itself and following it – but in older days I need it more destilled and with more pauses for just being with it.
January 4th, 2010 at 2:54 pm
This i what i want to leave you with this evening -- I love the lyrics AND these nice guys -
let it be -
January 4th, 2010 at 4:25 pm
Ah, the Bath House….they kicked me out from there when they discovered I was not a boi.
I am there!
Look for me – I’ll be wearing a polka-dot yarmulke!
January 4th, 2010 at 7:27 pm
Oh thanks Nina, it is one of my favorite songs ever.
January 4th, 2010 at 8:06 pm
Samsara
This is a song of Mila-rapper,
Who saw the world as one big crapper,
He ate the world without salt or pepper,
That Buddhist rapper, Milarepa.
Round and around on illusion’s wheel,
There are six realms that seem real,
But they’re just projections, your creation,
For self protection, not liberation.
The name of the game: samsara, my friend,
And there’s no way to win a game with no end,
When you’re there, you’re nowhere, are ya,
Ready to play the game samsara?
First stop is the Realm called Hell,
Anger’s the state where demons all dwell,
In hell everything everyone does is wrong,
And you and them can’t get along,
You’re in a rage, you can’t act your age,
Cause on this stage, the whole world’s a cage,
Friends you enjoyed, you now avoid,
You’re annoyed, an android in a paranoid void,
Your mind is a demon of terror, horror,
In the hell realm of samsara.
Next is the realm of the Hungry Ghosts,
Who always crave the best and the most,
They’re miserly, covetous, stingy, greedy,
Always thirsty, hungry, so needy,
But they get no elation from accumulation,
No excitation from starvation,
No gratification from masturbation,
No consummation from imagination,
No ejaculation from copulation,
There’s no vacation from their frustration,
No liberation from desperation,
Their main sensation … deprivation.
Their belly’s too big, their mouth’s too small,
And they’re always dying to have it all,
But it’s never alright, it’s always almost,
Cause more is less for a hungry ghost.
In the Animal Realm they’re as ignorant,
As a slug, a chicken, a pig or an ant,
They’re serious, practical, not much fun,
And subtlety? They ain’t got none,
They’re automatons, deaf, dumb, and blind,
With predictable ways and predictable minds,
If you break their routine, they’ll feel it’s a threat,
And they’ll bark and they’ll bite like a pet at the vet.
Woof. Woof. Woof. Growl.
Their sense of humor is so moronic,
They don’t understand anything ironic,
They don’t get symbols, they don’t get signs,
Literal minds need everything defined,
Show ‘em something unknown, they’ll just disdain it,
And don’t tell ‘em a joke, you’ll have to explain it.
The Human Realm is full of practical fools,
Busy with research, developing tools,
To achieve success, gain position,
While they eye each other with suspicion,
They’re cunning, shifty, slippery too,
There’s nothing humans wouldn’t do,
To get their way, have their say,
Come what may, they’ll win the day,
They’ve got a passion for fashion, a passion for sex,
Passion for flashin’ credit cards and cashin’ checks,
But whatever… a human owns is,
Never enough to keep up with the Joneses.
They lust after love and they fall in and out,
Just to have something to talk about,
And they’ll talk, and talk, and talk till tomorra,
Just to kill time in samsara.
The Jealous Gods are ultra slick,
They make diplomacy their shtick,
Lemme give you a tip, don’t give ‘em lip,
Cause they’ll come back bad with one-upsmanship.
They play hardball in the big league,
And the name of the game they play: intrigue.
Intrigue’s their way to have a relation,
It’s their vocation to rule the nation.
And every relation’s about survival,
Plotting, scheming against a rival,
Their own shadow’s a threat that gets ‘em annoyed,
Ask Freud … paranoid.
And because they need to stand high above,
They can’t stand kindness, can’t stand love,
Can’t stand in another’s shoes,
All they understand is win or lose.
The God Realm is paradise,
Everything there … nice.
The gods feel really, truly free,
Cause they’ve got individuality,
The ego that they have created,
Has got them so intoxicated,
Their self-esteem knows no measure,
The name of the game of the gods: pleasure.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhh … do it again.
Oh, oh, oh, oh, ohhh … do it again.
Now the highest realms where gods are born,
Are the four heavens beyond all form,
(one) Infinite space, (two) infinite thought,
(three) Nothingness, (four) neither thought nor naught.
But even this bliss must come to pass,
Cause formless gods can’t tell their head from their ass,
The joy they feel, they think it’s real,
But in their pride they don’t see the whole deal.
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna,
Hallelujah, Hallelu …
You see, the seeds of habitual thought lie deep,
Rooted in the mind, they sleep, then reaping,
What they sow, the gods’ hearts harden,
As nasty weeds overgrow their garden,
So they jump over the garden wall,
And with divine grace, they fall,
Down from heaven, sad to tell,
They find themselves right back in hell.
Round and round and round it goes,
And where it stops, nobody knows.
We could speculate until tomorra,
But that won’t help us get out of …
Samsara.
By Fred Curchack
From Sexual Mythology part two: PURGATORY (1989) and MILAREPA (2009)
Inspired by: The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa, p. 662 – 668
The Tibetan Book of the Dead, Introduction by Chogyam Trungpa
Jeff Grygny
January 5th, 2010 at 9:05 am
Oh my – “But even this bliss must come to pass,
Cause formless gods can’t tell their head from their ass,
The joy they feel, they think it’s real,
But in their pride they don’t see the whole deal.”
He’s some trickster that mr Curchack, excellent mind, excellent artist,
and seeing this dance leaves me feeling empty and sad
January 14th, 2010 at 1:02 pm
It debates and argues, turns me on a dime,
Until I stop in mid-stride and ask, what is this turpitude?
If ever madness were understood
This resistance of mine would be enshrined.
And just when I think I’m feeling spirit present
Nothing to fear, encased in love, hand held no less,
Big R sweeps in like a bull in a shop, makes a mess,
Now why would I trade peace for chaos, a bomb for contentment?
Jesus, Oh Jesus, I know not what I do…that’s true,
And you must know it most of all, because you never drop my hand.
Instead, caress my cheek, grip my shoulder, patience; never a demand.
I’d throw it all over to resistance but for my trust in you.
January 17th, 2010 at 9:26 am
For Ruthie: this story is dedicated to you. I remember that when you commented on the story Holy Cow, you said that maybe another story would be named “Dear Heart.” So here it is – Dear Heart for my Dear Heart Ruth-Anne:
43 Dear Heart
In the Holy Castle of Suburbia, Tittles is lifting the Holy Duck up to be adored. Greenshie, the vehicle of the Holy Duck when he is out of his true element, exclaims:
“Forward! Forward to Happyland!”
Little does he know that out of his back part, a saboteur is being born. Pushing out of Greenshie’s butt, it just can’t stand being quiet one moment longer: “Grrrumph! Stop!” he says, wheezes a bit and repeats it: “Stop, I mean it! Enough! I want to go the other way!”
Greenshie turns her slender neck, and looks at what has grown out of her own behind. It looks like a tumor – or a hemorrhoid – but they don’t speak, do they?
Well – she tells Tittles to put the Holy Duck down, and bends her slender body around till she meets the outburster’s eye to eye: “I am the Leader” she explains kindly but firmly, “and I am the vehicle for the Holy Duck!”
“The who?” exclaims the grumpy back part, and startles as the Holy Duck in this moment is placed in front of his so-called face.
Bottom looks at Holy Duck’s face: Oh beauty! The Holy Duck looks calmly into the angry scared eyes before him, and lays one tiny exquisite egg – blows on it – and lo, a miniature Holy Duckling is hatched, looking lovingly at Bottom: “Mommy!” it exclaims.
Bottom’s dear heart opens wide. She looks adoringly at his new baby, and Greenshie smiles contentedly and proceeds to lead the company to Happyland.
January 17th, 2010 at 9:36 am
Oh please admins / Mother, delete this image, it belongs to another story!! correct image follows:
January 17th, 2010 at 9:37 am
January 17th, 2010 at 9:38 am
January 17th, 2010 at 11:26 am
O.K. Nina now can we have the story that goes with the ‘wrong’ picture? I am intriged by the Gomp. :)
January 17th, 2010 at 7:54 pm
Again, Nina, a very sweet and loving story. Thanks so much!!
January 19th, 2010 at 12:10 pm
Holy Cow Nina :) A story dedicated to me. Thank-you so much. As usual funny and poignant and the wonderful colors in the drawings just invite me in so.
January 19th, 2010 at 10:37 pm
Led to Happy Land by your story for Ruth-Anne xox
January 24th, 2010 at 5:46 am
Nina…love the pictures…so whimsical and captivating…we want more…:)
January 24th, 2010 at 7:43 am
Thanks guys, your appreciation is so appreciated!:-)
then I will post 44: full circle again, this time with text:
44: full circle
The Lovers are shining, embracing in the Heart, the Trees of Confusion and Lament are behind them now, softly greening in the clear new spring air. Cyprianus wonders what he will do to loose the sticky Gomp at his side – he just doesn’t like that Gomp. He can’t breathe: the Gomp is taking life from him, sucking up all his sweet redness. . being grey is so cold and lonely!
The Hangman is waiting for his next assignment: The Gomp. He also wonders why he constantly has this red-pink headache. He is not aware of the Wizard’s head on top of his own, and that Wizard is asleep, dreaming a dark dream…until the she-lover is touching the Wizard’s head sweetly: he comes awake! Eyes open now! Looks around, spots the one and only other pink creature here – the gompy one – and exclaims: “you belong to me!”
The Wizard being awake,the Hangman realizes now that his job is no longer to remove heads or lives, but to deliver them to the Wizard. Oh! What a relief this is! (Poor chap. Never cared much about the sound of the ax and all that.) Now he relaxes and turns to adore the lovers, and the Wizard looks at the Gomp and tells him:
“Sweetie, I am your best friend now.”
The Gomp looks at the Wizard, and his great old hunger to fill his sucking void is appeased. Their eyes are resting in each others‘, and the Gomp senses his void being filled with Presence.
No more Gomp now
Just loving space expanding
Embracing Cyprianus…first he can’t believe it – then: pink is filling him up – taking Cyprianus out of him, embracing Confusion and Lament, singing songs of adoration and joyfulness until Love Is All There Is
January 24th, 2010 at 10:48 am
Oh Nina, just wonderful : )
January 24th, 2010 at 11:56 am
Ahhh Nina
Loved this. Are these stories and paintings for your upcoming book? Do you have a title for it?
xox michele
January 24th, 2010 at 2:50 pm
Michele,
i would love to have them published, and have no idea of where to offer them :-) I call them Crazy-wise Stories
January 24th, 2010 at 3:29 pm
Thank you Nina. :)
January 24th, 2010 at 4:02 pm
(Pam, I was so glad you asked, but i thought i couldn’t post another one so fast after the first one…when more than one asked, it felt a bit safer…always scared to be “too much” )
January 27th, 2010 at 12:35 pm
I love your stories and paintings Nina – they are so unique ! soft, delicate and exquisitely gentle…..Thank you so much for sharing them with us xoxoxoxoxoxooxo
January 27th, 2010 at 4:11 pm
I want to sharea some remarkable paintings by Seraphine de Senlis -- saw a movie about her today. They arose out of a mind that was a mixture of budding insanity and religious extacy. And she had no schooling, no-one taught her this, and she made her own paint, from blood from the slaughterhouse, urin, oil from the oil-lamps in her church, clay, herbs -- it was wondrous to see how her art grew and expanded -
so here is a piece of great beauty and expressivity
January 27th, 2010 at 6:57 pm
Nina…thank you for this video…what a wonderful experience…the art is so vibrant
and interesting, especially interposed with the cloud shots. And what an interesting style. I enjoyed this so much.
Hugs!
January 27th, 2010 at 7:12 pm
Saw this somewhere before -
In a previous life?
January 27th, 2010 at 7:24 pm
Very vibrant,lovely. I like the look on her face in the photo at the end.
January 27th, 2010 at 7:32 pm
Tex posted while iwas still watching Nina’s video. He is interesting also.
January 27th, 2010 at 7:42 pm
Seraphine de Senlis – her work is mesmerizing—incredible detail. Loving it.
January 27th, 2010 at 8:39 pm
Seraphine is a remarkable artist.. thanks for sharing her with us, Nina!
{Packing bags for my journey through China… or not} Cool vidjo, TX
February 5th, 2010 at 3:21 pm
In this moment i feel
filled with self-loathing
I know they are real
no hugs please
February 5th, 2010 at 3:31 pm
Mmmm the Monastery of Mists with Monk and Mother and Miracles
Providing excellent opportunities to look at my crap
It is a giant Magnifying glass for Me
February 5th, 2010 at 10:32 pm
ahhh shxt winwin – and just before i clicked on your whisper i thought;’gee the essence of winnie whispers is feeling so good lately – i’m so happy for her … all that course work paying off’… ah well, ping pong, back and forth twixt our poor split mind, the ebb and flow of looking with J. Soldier on hon, you’re not alone even midst the crap. The. Never. Ending. Crap.
So this is the writing room – here’s one just for you love.
Winnie of the fairy tree
sprinkles love dust liberally
sharing from gigantic heart
kindness and her honesty
She, loved by monklings near and far
gives generously from her lollie jar
and never misses a chance to throw
a bunch of lovelets when others are low!
Lovelets are the special flowers cultivated only in the fairy treehouses of the world and here’s a big colourful bunch for you – if you listen carefully you’ll hear them singing your favourite song … Whatever it is at the moment.
February 5th, 2010 at 11:32 pm
oh Al you are a treasure and i love you so much !
What a lovely poem – thank you – and a big bunch of lilac lovelets for you !
February 5th, 2010 at 11:57 pm
Lovelets for Al — you’ve no idea how I’ve missed your poems… and thank you so much for remembering my sad time about my Mom on Jan.11th – you are a dear one…
Love,
Mother
February 6th, 2010 at 10:30 am
tree and honesty – how I love these kind of Ogden Nashish-rhymes – soo good to have you back again, Al
February 6th, 2010 at 1:54 pm
good to be back sweety – and i love your crazywises – so talented and original. i’ve never seen anything quite like them … difference be damned – LIKE it!
February 6th, 2010 at 1:55 pm
whoops should read I like it.
February 7th, 2010 at 8:49 pm
Soft…
like Mothers fluttering eyelash
‘gainst my cheek
as I giggled on the couch
of my childhood
Gentle…
as the summer breeze
that almost doesn’t quite not stir
the delicate fronds
of my peacock feather
framed in the open window
Light…
as the first whisper
of pinkling dawn
seen through my skylight
this morning
Peace
effortless
enters
February 7th, 2010 at 9:04 pm
beautiful Al – so soft ! red sky in the morning is the sailor`s warning – but ……….”the first whisper of pinkling dawn” – such a gentle portender of the peace with which to start our day of silently forgiving….
February 7th, 2010 at 9:29 pm
Al… wonderful, lovely… I can feel the gentle quietness of your thoughts, thank you. Love, Mother
February 11th, 2010 at 11:41 am
“What makes the desert beautiful,” said the little prince, “is that it hides a well somewhere…”
“I was surprised by suddenly understanding that mysterious radiance of the sands.
When I was a little boy I lived in an old house, and there was a legend that a treasure was buried in it somewhere. Of course, no one was ever able to find the treasure, perhaps no one even searched. But it cast a spell over the whole house. My house hid a secret in the depths of its heart…”
This is from one of my all time favorite books, The Little Prince. Came across this today and felt a lot of hope that somewhere in this desert there is a well waiting for all of us that will surely change our entire perception and experience of the desert we once knew so well. Our “house” does hold a treasure…a decision maker. Going to take these images with me today and see what happens in the good ol’ classroom. Love to all!
February 11th, 2010 at 11:54 am
Heather, how beautiful. It makes me want to read the book again… which I just may. Warmest hugs, DD.
February 11th, 2010 at 12:16 pm
Heather,
I love the Little Prince too. Many many years ago I made a puppet of him and the other “persons” in the book, for a play…I still remember how magical it felt to transfer the drawings of Saint Exupery, and its radiation of innocense and playfulness to my puppet…when I made him, it was like he talked to me
and i think about the author and pilot Saint Exupery who dissapeared from the radar mysteriously in the last year of the war…I think he found the well
February 11th, 2010 at 12:39 pm
This is the first image in the book – all about how to look for the essential and not the outer form…(the text below the illustration is not how the author wrote it)
February 11th, 2010 at 11:20 pm
Hi Donna, great idea! i think i will read it again too. hugs to you!
nina, i love this picture and quote! and I can imagine you with your puppets talking with him. what an experience! it is such a magical book. i especially love the fox who wanted to be tamed, the rose, and all the metaphors about the stars…and laughing at the stars…when i was 9 and my grandpa (who raised me with my grandma) passed away. i remember sitting outside one night looking at the stars and he told me that whenever i wanted to talk to him i could talk to the stars…so that is what i have always done. i didn’t find this book until much later in life, it was so healing for me. i read it over and over. now i truly can laugh with him as the end of this passage says…
“People have stars, but they aren’t the same. For travelers, the stars are guides. For other people, they’re nothing but tiny lights. And for still others, for scholars, they’re problems. For my businessman, they were gold. But all those stars are silent stars. You, though, you’ll have stars like nobody else.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you look up at the sky at night, since I’ll be living on one of them, since I’ll be laughing on one of them, for you, it’ll be as if all the stars are laughing. You’ll have stars that can laugh!”
And he laughed again.
“And when you’re consoled (everyone is eventually consoled), you’ll be glad you’ve known me. You’ll always be my friend. You’ll feel like laughing with me. And you’ll open your windows sometimes just for the fun of it… And your friends will be amazed to see you laughing while you’re looking up at the sky. Then you’ll tell them, ‘Yes, it’s the stars. They always make me laugh!”
I totally agree…he must have found the well. ;)
February 11th, 2010 at 11:42 pm
And a quote from Antoine de Saint-Exupery that I see often on my iced-tea-bottle-cap:
Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away.
February 12th, 2010 at 3:35 am
Heather -
Thanks for the excerpts on the stars (one of my favorite books, too). Your excerpt made it easy for a cut-and-paste job to 11 of my dearest friends via email (i seldom send group emails,but this excerpt moved me to do just that).
cheers,
Anil
February 12th, 2010 at 10:38 am
I am just going to do the same, Anil and Heather. And to think that Antoine is a part of my mind! mmm
February 19th, 2010 at 10:44 am
i had a very peaceful end to my day yesterday and felt the urge to write in my journal. i had nothing to jot down until these words came to me:
I hold a candle to myself
that I may see ‘alight
past wickedness
and horror still
through that most dark-filled night
until I reach my Kingdom Home
where all is seen as One,
I come to you with open arms
this little self undone.
February 19th, 2010 at 11:17 am
absolutely beautiful poem Nick…. thank you for sharing it with us…..
I`m not really a poetry person unless it`s very simple {and rhymes of course… }
This poem is exquisite…. I feel very moved, as if it`s a gift specially for me… thank you xoxo
February 19th, 2010 at 11:35 am
♥Winnie♥ I think it is a perfect gift for you. Hugs and love, DD.
February 19th, 2010 at 11:55 am
{{{♥Donna♥}}} thanks for the hugs and love darling …
February 19th, 2010 at 12:08 pm
Nick, that is really great… awesome, in fact… hecka cool poem. I can FEEL it…. thanks so much, Love, Mother
February 19th, 2010 at 12:46 pm
Nice Nick – sweet and gentle.
February 19th, 2010 at 4:01 pm
Nick, I sense it is completely alive, like an entity – just came, and you received – feels sacred – I want to bow to it, and you receiving it – the 2 last sentences: indescribable beauty
February 19th, 2010 at 6:18 pm
thanks for the love guys….i haven’t had anything to whisper lately, but when this came last night I knew I had to share it (and Heather also made me ).
big hugs.
February 21st, 2010 at 6:23 am
Nick…thank you for your poem…when I read it, I felt like it was a gift to all of us here at the Monastery…that you were giving us comfort…putting into words what we all need to be reminded of every moment. It is gentle, though, and comforting, reminding us to be that way with ourselves. Thanks for sharing this…it gave me peace.
Hugs!
February 23rd, 2010 at 12:23 pm
Belated Happy Birthday Ken
Off to Bora Bora? Just say: ‘When’
We’ll join you on this virtual bus
Such love for you in all of us
we wouldn’t want to be without
your no nonsense charm, your spiritual clout.
Uncomprimisingly you lead us
and faithfully with patience feed us
answers to our existential
questions born from angst and mental
pain of being in this dream,
this anguished drawn out fearfilled scream,
and with the gentle hands of Love
you greet each one with a tickle, a shove
onward in the right direction
our symbol of Truth’s pure reflection.
Love you Ken.
Thanks for the lyrics Lisa! I reckon when we stand at heavens gate and take a last look back our whole emtire ( typo – empire of emptiness?!) time here will look extremely dorky – the exact same feeling as when you look back on the seventies at the hair, the clothes, the music and roll your eyes and giggle – how totally insanely silly.
February 23rd, 2010 at 2:09 pm
Linda posted a whisper in the Screamatorium the other day about the opera Otello which she had just seen.
So I wanted to post Iago`s Creed because Ken uses it in his book “Othello”. It was written not by Shakespeare but the librettist Arrigo Boito…
………………….
I believe in a cruel God, who has created me
In his image and whom, in anger, I name
From some vile germ or atom
Am I born.
I am wicked
Because I am human;
And I feel the primeval slime in me.
Yes! This is my creed !
I believe with a firm heart, as ever does
The widow praying at the temple,
That whatever evil I think or do
Was decreed for me by fate.
I believe that a just man is but an hysterical actor,
Both in face and heart,
That everything in him is a lie:
Tears, kisses, glances,
Sacrifices and honour.
And I believe man to be fortunes fool
From the germ of the cradle
To the worm of the grave.
And after all this mockery comes Death.
And then? And then? Death is nothingness.
And Heaven is an ancient lie.
February 23rd, 2010 at 3:31 pm
As the ego speaketh winnie, I love it! Thank-you squeaky poo!
February 24th, 2010 at 1:14 pm
Forgiveness in action:
I just saw -- for the 4th time at least -- a beautiful movie, “the Straight Story” after a true story about the 73-year old Alvin Straight who decides to meet his estranged brother (they had a serius fall- out ten years earlier) -and Alvin tells his daughter that he needs to go to Lyle and make up before he dies. He goes on his lawn-mower all the way from Iowa to Wisconsin(hope i remembered that right) and the trip takes a couple of months, if i remember right. There are jewels of meeting in that movie -- the two old guys on the bar sharing a war-memory they have never shared with others -- the simplicity and presence of the guys -- unforgettable -- and the ending where the two brothers meet at last and all is forgiven. If someone reading this wants to see this movie, PLEASE DONT look at this video -- but for the ones who have seen it an just want to savor what can be said without words…Harry Dean Stanton aughta have an Oscar for those 10 seconds…
February 26th, 2010 at 6:59 am
Many thanks to Nick and Al for their moving words. Really lovely.
March 4th, 2010 at 6:09 pm
Thank you Winnie for finding and posting Iago’s creed. Al is right, “… the ego speaketh”.
Rereading those lines made me wince because of the choice of words and images but rereading them again and again made me think that maybe my dainty exterior is probably hiding a similar creed – the possible reason for my cringing.
I was listening to one of Jamie’s past lessons and as he reminds us, the message never changes.
To find peace: accept you have an ego, admit that it produces some pretty horrible thoughts and actions (see above), don’t make a big deal about it and finally forgive yourself for choosing the ego so often. It won’t be any different tomorrow so you’d better get use to this forgiveness thing because the ego is never very far away.
As a result of Jamie’s second to last lesson, my new phrase to help me get on track when I have an ego attack, is as follows:
Love does not go anywhere. It waits patiently, and gently and tenderly. I can too so I will wait for myself. I will wait patiently, and gently and tenderly. That is forgiveness and I want to forgive myself
I love reading everyone’s whispers. It is a very calming thing to do.
Thank you all.
March 7th, 2010 at 11:03 am
here’s a story that came today. It took a while to follow the story where it wanted to go – to find the connections between all the figures in the image – but here it is. Maybe the story will be meaningful to someone more than me – smiles
*
46 eternal carne vale
Georg and Fritz, twin Nazi-brothers and ghosts are investigating some strange green thingies – it looks like halves of a huge carnival-mask. (They don’t realize yet that they are dead, poor schmucks.) A friendly green worm ( Subterrain Mark) speaks up:
“Let’s put the two parts together, guys! You just don’t get it as long as you think that the half is all of it.” And they do.
Oh, it is so big! Some giant must have left it. Who could it be? While they are speculating, the Two Guardians Hail and Glory is looking at each other and long to embrace. Hail is shedding a tear of longing – and it really isn’t needed a lot of action here to allow that embrace to happen: Sylvianus, the crowned blue angel, spread his wings out and makes a decree – but alas, he is speechless! Wha? The Bubble lady is popping up and down in the air, bubbly with glee: “Ha! Got your voice – so there!” But sweet Sweetie, always on the lookout for someone to support, lets out a sharp yell – and Bubble lady is punctured! Aouchshhhhh…and the mischief is gone, as she sinks down to the earth, now just a little pinkish shrunken balloonish thing.
Now Fritz and Georg have put the mask together: it clearly belongs to an elephant. Where is he? And what would he do at a carnival? They decide to bury the mask so they can stop thinking about this carnival- elephant-riddle – and why the mask is made of exactly the same green ghostly material as themselves.
Sylvianus is slowly descending behind them. They do not notice him, they just dig. Subterrain Mark is watching: he loves to watch others dig, and this is his terrain. Now as they dig, something big and green is becoming visible – and you guessed it: it is an elephant. As they dig her out, and she gets her big head and
splendid trunk free, she trumpets and yells: “Give me my mask now!” They are shocked. A green buried elephant that talks!! They quickly give her the mask to wear, and Mark produces a stripe of slime to glue the two parts together.
There is a big rumble now – and the old big diva elephant rises from her grave in the past and trumpets: “Oy! I am Esmeralda and I am back!” She shakes her trunk and lovely plump body and starts to hum to an old memory of a circus polka ( in arrangement by Stravinsky.) It is very touching, and the two Nazi ghosts are mesmerized. And now Fritz peeps up and ask how the hell Esmeralda can have exactly the same skin color as him and Georg? It looks like they are related! Circus, carnival, elephants, ghosts – what is the common denominator?
Sylvianus clear his throat: at least they have asked the vital question. His blue beauty descends soflty on the ground, and he touches them tenderly with his feathery being. The green ones are filled to the brim with gratefulness. Sylvianus looks at them and tells them that they are in e dream they have dreamt for centuries – a dream of war and enemies and danger and circus and carnival – and masks adorned with pearls and dirt and blood and a bit more circus to make it more bearable wearable. “Would you like to try something else for a change?” “Oh what the heck” says Esmeralda, and Fritz and Georg nod too – it’s not that they have a lot of fun and excitement in their lives anyway – “Put the masks down then” says Sylvianus, and Esmeralda does – but Fritz and Georg does not get it yet – until Sylvianus touches their faces and their faces come off – they just slide off. Now there is just “something” there instead of face…it is just overfilled light – and “Hail Glory!” fills the air.
See the Bird: there, he flies into Hail’s chest and punctures his heart. A bridge of light is formed between him and Glory, and forms and somethings are no more
March 7th, 2010 at 2:09 pm
Nina, your picture and story has left a big big :::smile::: on my face.. I continue to love the watercolors you do… Love, Mother