CARTAS DO FUTURO

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2006-12-13T09:39:00.000+11:00

THE FIVE SENSES+ ONE

LOVE

XXVI.

THE CRATCHITS' CHRISTMAS DINNER

At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearthswept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, andconsidered perfect, tipples and oranges were put upon the table, and ashovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drewround the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half aone; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass--twotumblers and a custard-cup without a handle.These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as goldengoblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks,while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bobproposed:"A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"Which all the family reechoed."God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

...

CHARLES DICKENS

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

3 sets of

12 place dinner set- MISSONI

12 place crystal glasseware- WATERFORD

12 place antique silver flatware -M P LAVENE

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-11T17:12:00.000+11:00

AND TODAY WE SHARE

OUR WISHES FOR A JOYFUL WORLD

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Joy To The World

1. Joy to the world! The Lord is come.
Let earth receive her King;
Let every heart prepare Him room;
And heav’n and nature sing,
And heav’n and nature sing.
And heav’n and heav’n and nature sing.

2. Joy to the world, the Savior reigns
Let men their songs employ.1
While fields and floods, Rocks, hills, and plains
Repeat the sounding joy,
Repeat the sounding joy
Repeat the sounding joy

3. No more let sin and sorrows2 grow,
Nor thorns infest the ground;
He comes to make His blessings flow
Far as the curse is found,
Far as the curse is found,
Far as, far as the curse is found.

4. He rules the world with truth and grace,
And makes the nations prove
The glories of His righteousness.
And wonders of His love,
And wonders of His love,
And wonders, wonders of His love.

ISAAC WATTS

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

WISHES TO GIVE

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This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-10T17:01:00.000+11:00

06

IT'S ALL ABOUT ME

Jingle Bells

Dashing thro' the snow
In a one horse open sleigh
O'er the fields we go
Laughing all the way.
Bells on bob tail ring
Making spirits bright
Oh what sport to ride and sing
A sleighing song to night.

Chorus:
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what joy it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh,
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle all the way,
Oh what joy it is to ride
In a one horse open sleigh.

2. A day or two ago
I tho't I'd take a ride
And soon Miss Fanny Bright
Was seated by my side;
The horse was lean and lank
Misfortune seem'd his lot,
He got into a drifted bank
And we - we got up sot. Chorus

A day or two ago
The story I must tell
I went out on the snow
And on my back I fell;
A gent was riding by
In a one horse open sleigh
He laughed as there I sprawling lie
But quickly drove away. Chorus

Now the ground is white,
Go it while you're young,
Take the girls tonight
And sing this sleighing song.
Just get a bob tailed bay,
Two forty as his speed,
Hitch him to an open sleigh
and crack, you'll take the lead. Chorus

JAMES LORD PIERPONT

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-09T13:14:00.000+11:00

MAKING WISHES COME THROUGH

The Bells Ring In Our Christmas Fest

The bells ring in our Christmas Fest,
They're tolling for our honored Guest.
The gifts He brought our cottage small
Were joy and peace in the New Year for all.

Come along with us to David's town
Where angels sang in heavenly round.
Let's go to the fields where shepherds heard
The Good News from God's Holy Word.

The world may honor power and gold;
To you they are bust dust and mold!
Laid in a manger, swaddled in cloth,
Eternal life for us you brought.

Come Jesus, be our cottage guest;
Within us keep thy Christmas Fest!
With David's harp our voices we'll raise;
Our grateful hearts will sing They praise.

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-08T13:29:00.000+11:00

VISIONS OF SUGAR-PLUMS

A Visit From St. Nicholas

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter's nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

Attributed to Clement Clarke Moore

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-07T12:36:00.000+11:00

I AM DREAMING OF A

White Christmas

Bing Crosby, Frank Sinatra

The Bells

Hear the sledges with the bells--
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle,
In their icy air of night!
While the stars, that oversprinkle
All the heavens, seem to twinkle
With a crystalline delight;
Keeping time, time, time,
In a sort of Runic rhyme,
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells
From the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells.

II.

Hear the mellow wedding bells,
Golden bells!
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells!
Through the balmy air of night
How they ring out their delight!
From the molten golden-notes,
And all in tune,
What a liquid ditty floats
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats
On the moon!
Oh, from out the sounding cells,
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells!
How it swells!
How it dwells
On the future! how it tells
Of the rapture that impels
To the swinging and the ringing
Of the bells, bells, bells,
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells--
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells!
...

Edgar Allan Poe .

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

7
HAPPY FACES

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2006-12-06T09:54:00.000+11:00

HOPE

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Christmas Greeting!http://youtube.com/v/vA9OCOp814Y" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash">

Ring Out, Wild Bells

A Christmas Poem Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light;
The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind,
For those that here we see no more,
Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
And ancient forms of party strife;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care the sin,
The faithless coldness of the times;
Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes,
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite;
Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease,
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-05T12:51:00.000+11:00

FROM HERE TO ETERNITY

The pickwick papers

I care not for Spring; on his fickle wing
Let the blossoms and buds be borne:
He woos them amain with his treacherous rain,
And he scatters them ere the morn.
An inconstant elf, he knows not himself,
Or his own changing mind an hour,
He'll smile in your face, and, with wry grimace,
He'll wither your youngest flower.

Let the summer sun to his bright home run,
He shall never be sought by me;
When he's dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud,
And care not how sulky he be;
For his darling child is the madness wild
That sports in fierce fever's train;
And when love is too strong, it don't last long,
As many have found to their pain.

A mild harvest night, by the tranquil light
Of the modest and gentle moon,
Has a far sweeter sheen for me, I ween,
Than the broad and unblushing noon,
But every leaf awakens my grief,
As it lieth beneath the tree;
So let Autumn air be never so fair,
It by no means agrees with me.

But my song I troll out, for Christmas stout,
The hearty, the true, and the bold;
A bumper I drain, and with might and main
Give three cheers for this Christmas old.
We'll usher him in with a merry din
That shall gladden his joyous heart,
And we'll keep him up while there's bite or sup,
And in fellowship good, we'll part.

In his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide
One jot of his hard-weather scars;
They're no disgrace, for there's much the same trace
On the cheeks of our bravest tars.
Then again I sing 'till the roof doth ring,
And it echoes from wall to wall—
To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night,
As the King of the Seasons all!

Charles Dickens

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS
5

Great Destinations

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-04T16:39:00.000+11:00

GIVING AND RECEIVING

The Twelve Days of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me1
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Four colley birds,1a
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Nine drummers drumming,2
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Ten pipers piping,
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eleven ladies dancing,
Ten pipers piping,
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Twelve lords a-leaping,
Eleven ladies dancing,
Ten pipers piping,
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four colley birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

TIFFANY

GIFTS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-03T16:36:00.000+11:00

THE NATURE OF DREAMS

CHRISTMAS CAROLS

O TANNENBAUM

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Thy leaves are green forever.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
Thy beauty leaves thee never.
Thy leaves are green in summer’s prime,
Thy leaves are green at Christmas time.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Thy leaves are green forever.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Much pleasure doth thou bring me!
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Much pleasure doth thou bring me!
For every year the Christmas tree,
Brings to us all both joy and glee.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Much pleasure doth thou bring me!

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Thy candles shine out brightly!
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Thy candles shine out brightly!
Each bough doth hold its tiny light,
That makes each toy to sparkle bright.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
Thy candles shine out brightly!

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely!
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely!
Thou dost proclaim the Savior’s birth,
Good will to men and peace on earth.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou tree most fair and lovely.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou has a wondrous message:
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou has a wondrous message:
Thou dost proclaim the Savior’s birth
Good will to men and peace on earth.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
Thou has a wondrous message:

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas tree,
O evergreen unchanging.
A symbol of good will and love,
You’ll ever be unchanging.
Each shining light, each silver bell,
No other sight spreads cheer so well.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
You’ll ever be unchanging.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree!
How are thy leaves so verdant!
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How are thy leaves so verdant!
Not only in the summertime,
But even in winter is thy prime.

O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
How are thy leaves so verdant!

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-02T16:36:00.000+11:00

BEING NAUGHTY AND NICE

jingle bell rock

Some says, that ever 'gainst that Season comes;
Wherein our Saviours Birth is celebrated,
The Bird of Dawning singeth all night long:
And then (they say) no Spirit can walk abroud,
The nights are wholesome, then no Planets strike,
No Fairy takes, nor Witch hath power to Charme:
So hallow'd, and so gracious is the time.

Shakespeare

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS

NEW CARS

This is one of my favourite things

2006-12-01T16:33:00.000+11:00

MY FAVORITE TIME OF THE YEAR

Vienna Boys Choir

Silent Night

SILENT NIGHT

Silent night! Holy night!
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child.
Holy Infant, so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace.

Silent night! Holy night!
Shepherds quake at the sight!1
Glories stream from heaven afar;
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ, the Savior, is born!
Christ, the Savior, is born!

Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love’s pure light
Radiant beams from Thy Holy Face.
With the dawn of redeeming grace.
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth!
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth!

Silent night, holy night,
Wondrous star, lend thy light
With the angels let us sing
Alleluia to our King
Christ the Savior is here,
Jesus the Savior is here!

Rev. Joseph Mohr

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISMAS
1
YACHT

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2006-11-30T11:18:00.000+11:00

A FORMAL OCCASION

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2006-11-24T07:34:00.000+11:00

ALL YOU NEED IS LOVE

Love is the only freedom in the world because it so
elevates the spirit that the laws of humanity and the
phenomena of nature do not alter its course

Strange that you should pity the slow-footed and not
the stow-minded,
And the blind-eyed rather than the blind-hearted

KAHLIL GIBRAN

IMAGE

Gustav Klimt

Alcides baiao

This is NOT one of my favourite things

2006-11-22T18:11:00.000+11:00

5KM AWAY

SUMMER FIRES

Mission Of The Gods

Chariots of fire fly throught the night
lords of the realm ready to fight
swords of omen cast towards the sun
the gods are here the fight has begun

Pegasis pulling chariots of fire
all the gods decend it down to the wire
led by Zues they ride
to conquer the earth all mortals to die

Mission Of The Gods
to control our land
Mission Of The Gods
they start to decend

For now the heavens they want no more
Neptune in the sea and Zues on the shore
all mortals shall die in this day to come
killed by the egyptian god of the sun

Lightning from the heavens
one bolt for one life
fire from the earth
all mortals to die...tonight

Aaron(AarionLee) Morris

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2006-11-19T11:14:00.000+11:00

A ETERNA

Elis Regina

Me Deixas Louca

2006-11-19T10:53:00.000+11:00

ELIS REGINA

ÁGUAS DE MARÇO

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2006-11-11T16:34:00.000+11:00

WATCHING

Breakfast at tiffany's

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2006-11-09T07:39:00.000+11:00

DAUGHTERS

Our daughters grow into assured and capable

young women, moving in a world we scarcely know.
It seems at times impossible that they

could have ever been our babies, our toddlers stomping

after butterflies. Our skinny schoolgirls frisking
along beside us. That these strong hands once clung to ours.

That these confident eyes once sought our reassurance.
Until a day when even the strongest

and the wisest find they need to touch the past
- and they reach out to us.
And we find all they have ever been

is not lost.., or ever will be.

PAM BROWN, b1928

IMAGE

PIPPA

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2006-11-06T18:08:00.000+11:00

DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT

Michael Buble-Moondance

IMAGE

Ralph Fabri

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2006-11-06T08:41:00.001+11:00

FEELINGS

IT'S ALL ABOUT FEELINGS

Radiohead vs. Nina Simone - Street Spirit Feeling Good

Life is a tragedy for those who feel, and a comedy for those who think.

La Bruyere

This is one of my favourite things

2006-10-28T15:22:00.000+10:00

STRIPPING THE LAYERS

REVELING THE TRUTH

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2006-10-28T14:52:00.000+10:00

EVERYDAY WARS

Nerina Pallot - Everybody's Gone to War

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2006-10-12T09:12:00.000+10:00

WANTING TO KNOW

WANTING TO SEE

WANTING TO BE

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2006-10-08T08:16:00.000+10:00

happy birthday

Aniversário

No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos,
Eu era feliz e ninguém estava morto.
Na casa antiga, até eu fazer anos era uma tradição de há séculos,
E a alegria de todos, e a minha, estava certa com uma religião qualquer.

No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos,
Eu tinha a grande saúde de não perceber coisa nenhuma,
De ser inteligente para entre a família,
E de não ter as esperanças que os outros tinham por mim.
Quando vim a ter esperanças, já não sabia ter esperanças.
Quando vim a olhar para a vida, perdera o sentido da vida.

Sim, o que fui de suposto a mim-mesmo,
O que fui de coração e parentesco.
O que fui de serões de meia-província,
O que fui de amarem-me e eu ser menino,
O que fui — ai, meu Deus!, o que só hoje sei que fui...
A que distância!...
(Nem o acho... )
O tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos!

O que eu sou hoje é como a umidade no corredor do fim da casa,
Pondo grelado nas paredes...
O que eu sou hoje (e a casa dos que me amaram treme através das minhas lágrimas),
O que eu sou hoje é terem vendido a casa,
É terem morrido todos,
É estar eu sobrevivente a mim-mesmo como um fósforo frio...

No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos...
Que meu amor, como uma pessoa, esse tempo!
Desejo físico da alma de se encontrar ali outra vez,
Por uma viagem metafísica e carnal,
Com uma dualidade de eu para mim...
Comer o passado como pão de fome, sem tempo de manteiga nos dentes!

Vejo tudo outra vez com uma nitidez que me cega para o que há aqui...
A mesa posta com mais lugares, com melhores desenhos na loiça, com mais copos,
O aparador com muitas coisas — doces, frutas, o resto na sombra debaixo do alçado,
As tias velhas, os primos diferentes, e tudo era por minha causa,
No tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos. . .

Pára, meu coração!
Não penses! Deixa o pensar na cabeça!
Ó meu Deus, meu Deus, meu Deus!
Hoje já não faço anos.
Duro.
Somam-se-me dias.
Serei velho quando o for.
Mais nada.
Raiva de não ter trazido o passado roubado na algibeira! ...

O tempo em que festejavam o dia dos meus anos!...

Álvaro de Campos

This is one of my favourite things

2006-10-07T11:08:00.000+10:00

IN THE MOMENT-

ETERNITY

Eternity

It is recovered.

What? Eternity.

In the whirling light

Of sun become sea.

Oh my sentinel soul

Let us desire

The nothing of night

And the day on fire.

From the applause of the World

And the striving of Man

You set yourself free

And fly as you can

For out of you only,

Soft silken embers

Duty arises

Nor surfeit remembers.

Then shall all hope fail

No orietur.

Science with patience

The torment is sure.

It is recovered.

What? Eternity.

In the whirling light

Of sun become sea.

Arthur Rimbaud

IMAGE

Edward Burne-Jones

This is one of my favourite things

2006-10-07T10:50:00.000+10:00

SINERGIA
PAIXÃO+VOZ INCRIVEL=

ANA CAROLINA

É ISSO AI

ANA CAROLINA E SEU JORGE

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2006-09-29T14:35:00.000+10:00

MY GARDEN IN SEPTEMBER

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2006-09-23T12:22:00.000+10:00

THE WINDS ARE CHANGING

On beauty

One hour devoted to the pursuit of Beauty
And Love is worth a full century of glory
Given by the frightened weak to the strong.

From that hour comes man's Truth; and
During that century Truth sleeps between
The restless arms of disturbing dreams.

In that hour the soul sees for herself
The Natural Law, and for that century she
Imprisons herself behind the law of man,
And she is shackled with irons of oppression.

KAHLIL GIBRAN

IMAGE

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-22T15:51:00.000+10:00

VAGABUNDA DE SONHOS

Distante Melodia

Num

sonho de Íris morto a oiro e brasa,

Vem-me lembranças doutro tempo azul

Que me oscilava entre véus de tule –

Um tempo esguio e leve, um tempo-asa

Então os meus sentidos eram cores,

Nasciam num jardim as minhas ânsias,

Havia na minha alma outras distâncias –

Distancias que o segui-las era flores...

Caía oiro se pensava estrelas,

O luar batia sobre o meu alhear-me...

– noites-lagoas, como éreis belas

– sob terraços-lis de recordar-me!...

Idade acorde de inter-sonho e Lua

Onde as horas corriam sempre jade,

Onde a neblina era uma saudade,

E a luz – anseios de Princesa nua ...

Balaústres de som, arcos de amar,

Pontes de brilho, ogivas de perfume...

Domínio inexprimível de ópio e lume

Que nunca mais, em cor, hei – de habitar...

Tapetes de outras Pérsias mais Oriente...

Cortinados de Chinas mais marfim...

Áureos templos de ritos de cetim...

Fontes correndo sombra, mansamente...

Zimbórios-panteões de nostalgias,

Catedrais de ser – eu por sobre o mar ...

Escadas de honra, escadas só, ao ar ...

Novas Bizancios –

Alma, outras Turquias...

Lembranças fluidas ...cinza de brocado ...

Irrealidade anil que em mim ondeia ...

Ao meu redor eu sou Rei exilado,

Vagabundo dum sonho de sereia...

Mário de Sá-Carneiro

IMAGE

Unidentified artist

2006-09-21T16:14:00.000+10:00

time

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-21T07:47:00.000+10:00

NOW

THE ESSENCE OF TIME

Listen to the Exhortation of the Dawn

Look to this day.

For it is life, the very life of life.

In its brief course lie all the verities and realities of your

existence.

The bliss of growth;

The glory of action;

The splendor of beauty;

For yesterday is already a dream,

and tomorrow is only a

vision;

But today well lived, makes every yesterday

A dream of happiness, and every tomorrow a vision of

hope.

Look well, therefore, to this day!

Such is the salutation of the Dawn.

Ancient Sanskrit poem

IMAGE

Manipulation byM

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-19T08:30:00.000+10:00

DIFERENTE MAS IGUAL

CASAS CAIADAS

Por entre casas caiadas

de luar e de silêncio,

paira no meio da estrada

a poeira de outros tempos...

Por entre casas caiadas,

mas com desgraca por dentro

(o varandas enfeitadas

com trepadeiras de vento!),

algumas desmanteladas,

de apodrecidas empenas

(todavia nos telhados

antenas e cataventos...),

por entre casas caiadas,

por entre casas (Silêncio,

que ronda o medo na estrada

em automóveis cinzentos!),

ha jorros de luz salgada,

ha torrentes de veneno...

E dentro daquelas casas

quando foi que nos morremos?

David Mourao-Ferreira

IMAGE

GeorgiaOKeeffe

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-15T08:40:00.000+10:00

ARE YOU READY FOR THE RESPONSIBILITY

OF KNOWING THE TRUTH?

"Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!"

Walter Scott

POST inspired by one of my favorite

and fellow bloggers

http://asombra.blogspot.com/

IMAGES

From the movie

'AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH '

2006-09-14T09:58:00.000+10:00

Hallelujah (Leonard Cohen) - Allison Crowe live tv version

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-14T07:38:00.000+10:00

GREAT WOMEN

Having the courage to reveal one's soul

No Coward Soul Is Mine

No coward soul is mine,

No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere:

I see Heaven's glories shine,

And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.

O God within my breast,

Almighty, ever-present Deity!

Life--that in me has rest,

As I--undying Life--have power in thee!

Vain are the thousand creeds

That move men's hearts: unutterably vain;

Worthless as withered weeds,

Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,

To waken doubt in one

Holding so fast by thine infinity;

So surely anchored on

The stedfast rock of immortality.

With wide-embracing love

Thy spirit animates eternal years,

Pervades and broods above,

Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.

Though earth and man were gone,

And suns and universes ceased to be,

And Thou were left alone,

Every existence would exist in Thee.

There is not room for Death,

Nor atom that his might could render void:

Thou--THOU art Being and Breath,

And what THOU art may never be destroyed

Emily Bronte

IMAGE

Emily Bronte

2006-09-13T09:18:00.000+10:00

Hallelujah

2006-09-12T11:19:00.000+10:00

Kurt Nilsen Espen Lind Askilholm Alejandro

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-12T10:52:00.000+10:00

NADA SOMOS QUE O MOMENTO

Nada fica de nada. Nada somos.

Nada fica de nada. Nada somos.

Um pouco ao sol e ao ar nos atrasamos

Da irrespirável treva que nos pese

Da humilde terra imposta,

Cadáveres adiados que procriam.

Leis feitas, estátuas vistas, odes findas –

Tudo tem cova sua. Se nós carnes

A que um íntimo sol dá sangue, temos

Poente, por que não elas?

Somos contos contando contos, nada

RICARDO REIS

Image

Collage M

This is one of my favourite things

2006-09-11T09:08:00.000+10:00

JUST BECAUSE IT'S BEAUTIFUL

Jeff Buckley - live on canal - Hallelujah

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
hat David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this he fourth, the fifth
the minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew her
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well, really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light in every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I learned to touch
I've told the truth,I didn't come to fool you
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my lips but Hallelujah

Baby, I've been here before.
I know this room, I've walked this floor.
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch,
But love is not some kind of victory march,
No it's a cold and it's a very broken Hallelujah.

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below,
but now you never show it to me, do you?
I remember when I moved in you,
And the holy dove was moving too,
and every breath we drew was Hallelujah.

Now maybe there's a God above,
As for me, all I ever learned from love
Is how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.
and it's no complaint you hear tonight,
and It's not some pilgrim who's seen the ligh
tit's a cold and it's a very lonely Hallelujah.

Leonard Cohen

IMAGE
Rosso Fiorentino

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-08T09:01:00.000+10:00

SONHAR DE OLHOS ABERTOS

Ó VÉSPERA DO PRODÍGIO

Creio nos anjos que andam pelo mundo,

Creio na deusa com olhos de diamantes,

Creio em amores lunares com piano ao fundo,

Creio nas lendas, nas fadas, nos atlantes,

Creio num engenho que falta mais fecundo

De harmonizar as partes dissonantes,

Creio que tudo é étero num segundo,

Creio num céu futuro que houve dantes,

Creio nos deuses de um astral mais puro,

Na flor humilde que se encosta ao muro,

Creio na carne que enfeitiça o além,

Creio no incrível, nas coisas assombrosas,

Na ocupação do mundo pelas rosas,

Creio que o amor tem asas de ouro. Ámen.

NATÁLIA CORREIA

IMAGE

BOUCHER FRANCOIS

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-08T07:50:00.000+10:00

STILL GREAT AFTER ALL THIS YEARS

SANTANA - OYE COMO VA

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-07T11:47:00.000+10:00

MY SOUL COMES FROM AFRICA

to the Diaspora

you did not know you were Afrika

When you set out for Afrika

you did not know you were going.

Because

you did not know you were Afrika.

You did not know the Black

continent

that had to be reached

was you.

I could not have told you then that some sun

would come,

somewhere over the road,

would come evoking the diamonds

of you, the Black continent--

somewhere over the road.

You would not have believed my mouth.

When I told you, meeting you somewhere close

to the heat and youth of the road,

liking my loyalty, liking belief,

you smiled and you thanked me

but very little believed

me.

Here is some sun. Some.

Now off into the places rough to reach.

Though dry, though drowsy, all unwillingly a-wobble,

into the dissonant and dangerous crescendo.

Your work, that was done, to be done to be done to be

done.

Gwendolyn Brooks

IMAGE

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-07T09:17:00.000+10:00

LOVEEEEE

the young

RANDY CRAWFORD
The Crusaders - Street Life

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-06T08:00:00.000+10:00

METÁFORAS

Deste modo ou daquele modo,
Conforme calha ou não calha,
Podendo às vezes dizer o que penso,
E outras vezes dizendo-o mal e com misturas,
Vou escrevendo os meus versos sem querer,
Como se escrever não fosse uma cousa feita de gestos,
Como se escrever fosse uma cousa que me acontecesse
Como dar-me o sol por fora.

Procuro dizer o que sinto
Sem pensar em que o sinto.
Procuro encostar as palavras à ideia
E não precisar dum corredor
Do pensamento para as palavras.
Nem sempre consigo sentir o que sei que devo sentir.
O meu pensamento só muito devagar atravessa o rio a nado
Porque lhe pesa o fato que os homens o fizeram usar.

Procuro despir-me do que aprendi,
Procuro esquecer-me do modo de lembrar que me ensinaram,
E raspar a tinta com que pintaram os sentidos,
Desencaixotar as minhas emoções verdadeiras,
Desembrulhar-me e ser eu, não Alberto Caeiro,
Mas um animal humano que a Natureza produziu.

E assim escrevo, querendo sentir a Natureza, nem sequer
[como um homem,
Mas como quem sente a Natureza, e mais nada.
E assim escrevo, ora bem, ora mal,
Ora acertando com o que quero dizer, ora errando,
Caindo aqui, levantando-me acolá,
Mas indo sempre no meu caminho como um cego teimoso.
Ainda assim, sou alguém.
Sou o Descobridor da Natureza,
Sou o Argonauta das sensações verdadeiras.
Trago ao Universo um novo Universo
Porque trago ao Universo ele-próprio.

Isto sinto e isto escrevo
Perfeitamente sabedor e sem que não veja
Que são cinco horas do amanhecer
E que o sol, que ainda não mostrou a cabeça
Por cima do muro do horizonte,
Ainda assim já se lhe vêem as pontas dos dedos
Agarrando o cimo do muro
Do horizonte cheio de montes baixos.

Alberto Caeiro

IMAGE

Evelyn de Morgan

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-05T08:42:00.001+10:00

VISIONS

Ah, fill the Cup - what boots it to
repeat
How Time is slipping underneath
our Feet:
Unborn TOMORROW, and dead
YESTERDAY,
Why fret about them if TODAY be
sweet!

* * * * * *

How long, how long, in infinite
Pursuit
Of This and That endeavour and
dispute?
Better be merry with the fruitful
Grape
Than sadden after none, or bitter,
Fruit.

* * * * * *

With Earth's first Clay They did the
Last Man's knead.
And then of the Last Harvest sow'd
the Seed:
Yea, the first Morning of Creation
wrote
What the Last Dawn of Reckoning
shall read.

RUBAIYAT OF OMAR KHAYYAM

IMAGE

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-03T15:32:00.000+10:00

BIG BANDS

In The Mood

GLENN MILLER

This is one of my favorite things

2006-09-03T13:51:00.000+10:00

CIDADÃ DOS QUATRO VENTOS

NO WAY OUT

Sei hoje que sou pequeno
e não é esse o meu menor mal
mas faco meus os problemas
da gente de beavar canal

Nasci numa aldeia perdida
nestes caminhos de portugal
mas tanto tenho irmãos aqui
como os tenho em beavar canal

Eu a miséria da minha terra
contemplei-a ao natural
enquanto vi no cinema
como se vive em beavar canal

Mais do que a pedra mais do que a árvore
o homem é para mim real
e tanto sofre a dois passos de mim
como sofre em beavar canal

Não há pais que não seja meu
em qualquer parte morro pois sou mortal
mas aproveito a forca da rima
para dizer que a minha rua é beavar canal

Morra eu dividido aos quatro ventos
seja o legado sentimental
fique no mundo onde ficar
deixo o meu coraçäo a beavar canal

Rui Belo

IMAGE

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-24T10:47:00.000+10:00

TO BE FREE

Brave and Startling Truth

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.

A Brave and Startling Truth

We, this people on a small and lonely planet

Traveling through causal space

Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns

To a destination where all signs tell us

It is possible and imperative that we discover

A brave and startling truth

And when we come to it

To the day of peacemaking

When we release our fingers

From fists of hostility

And alow the pure air to cool our palms

When we come to it

When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate

And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean

When battlefields and coliseum

No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters

Up with the bruised and bloody grass

To lie in identical plots in foreign lands

When the rapacious storming of churches

The screaming racket in the temples have ceased

When the pennants are waving gaily

When the banners of the world tramble

Stoutly in the good, clean breeze

When we come to it

When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders

And children dress their dolls in flags of truce

When land mines of death have been removed

And the aged may walk into evenings of peace

When religious ritual is not perfumed

By the incense of burning flesh

And childhood dreams are not kicked awake

By nightmares of abuse

When we come to it

Then we will confess that not the Pyramids

With their stones set in mysterious perfection

Not the Garden of Babylon

Hanging as eternal beauty

In our collective memory

Not the Grand Canyon

Kindled in delicious color By Western sunsets

Not the Danube flowing in its blue soul into

Europe

Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji

Stretching to the rising sun

Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi

who, without favor,

Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the

shores

These are not the only wonders of the world

When we come to it

We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe

Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade, the dagger

Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace

We, this people on this mote of matter

In whose mouths abide cantankerous words

Which challenge our existence

Yet out of those same mouths

Can come songs of such exquisite sweetness

That the heart falters in its labor

And the body is quieted into awe

We, this people, on this small and drifting planet

Whose hands can strike with such abandon

That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living

Yet those same hands can touch with such healing,

irresistible tenderness

That the haughty neck is happy to bow

And the proud back is glad to bend

Out of such chaos, of such contradiction

We learn that we are neither devils or divines

When we come to it

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body

Created on this earth, of this earth

Have the power to fashion for this earth

A climate where every man and every woman

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety

And without crippling fear

When we come to it

We must confess that we are the possible

We are the miraculous, the true wonders of this

world

That is when, and only whenWe come to it.

Equality

You declare you see me dimly

through a glass which will not shine,

though I stand before you boldly,

trim in rank and marking time.

You do own to hear me faintly

as a whisper out of range,

while my drums beat out the message

and the rhythms never change.

Equality, and I will be free.

Equality, and

I will be free.

You announce my ways are wanton,

that I fly from man to man,

but if I'm just a shadow to you,

could you ever understand ?

We have lived a painful history,

we know the shameful past,but

I keep on marching forward,

and you keep on coming last.

Equality, and I will be free.

Take the blinders from your vision,

take the padding from your ears,

and confess you've heard me crying,

and admit you've seen my tears.

Hear the tempo so compelling,

hear the blood throb in my veins.

Yes, my drums are beating nightly,

and the rhythms never change.

Equality, and I will be free.

Maya Angelou

for the 50th Anniversary of the United Nations

IMAGE

The happy litle tired swing

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-23T08:33:00.000+10:00

POESIA SENSUAL

PISCINA

Após a vontade
procuro a razão

o vidro das coisas
o ventre do ar

o negar da sede
e da seducao
respirar de um corpo
que doi a tocar

Piscina profunda
onde nada o vento

vagina secreta
com seus corredores

Perdi-me do tempo
perdi-me do tempo

fechada em meu
fruto
com hálito dentro

MARIA TERESA HORTA

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-22T11:37:00.000+10:00

DAFFODILS

Daffodils

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced, but they
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company.
I gazed-and gazed-but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought;

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

William Wordsworth

IMAGE

MALOU

This is one of my favourite things

2006-08-21T08:43:00.000+10:00

CURIOSITY

The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing. One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery every day. Never lose a holy curiosity.

Albert Einstein

Image

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-20T13:25:00.000+10:00

AUSENCIA DE COR

PASSAGEM

Vestiu o negro...

E na ausência de cor

enterrou o passado.

Em ousado passo - reto ,

escorregou num descompasso da Senda,

esbarrou na mística legenda ,

e só ,

para uma alegórica acácia,

teve a audácia de dizer um sim

secreto.

Vestiu o negro ...

E na pureza de um quadro ,

só moldura ,

criou sua obra - psíquica escultura,

e entre as sólidas colunas,

de sustentação do Ser ,

abriu os braços no escuro,

abalou o humano templod'antes obscuro.

Vestiu o negro ...

E na presença de Luzes

viu-se iniciado !

E acabado o ato , cede ao carma,

desarma o espírito silente

e sente extase secreto

na onipresença do Arquiteto.

Antônio Carlos Tórtoro

Image

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-17T07:55:00.000+10:00

PUTTING THING IN PERSPECTIVE

We do not inherit the Earth from our forefathers,

we borrow it from our children

Chinese proverb

IMAGE

Mount Kilimanjaro

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-10T09:14:00.000+10:00

CADA MOMENTO

UM FIM E UM COMECO

MORRO DO QUE HÁ NO MUNDO

Morro do que há no mundo:

do que vi, do que ouvi.

Morro do que vivi.

Morro comigo, apenas:

com lembranças amadas,

porém desesperadas.

Morro cheia de assombro

por não sentir em mim

nem princípio nem fim.

Morro: e a circunferência

fica, em redor, fechada.

Dentro sou tudo e nada

Cecília Meireles

IMAGE

Unidentified artist

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-06T11:32:00.000+10:00

THE GOLDEN RULE

And if thine eyes be turned towards justice, choose thou for thy neighbour that which thou choosest for thyself.

Baha'u'llah

Bahá'í Faith

Do naught unto others which would cause you pain if done to you".

Mahabharata

Brahmanism

Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.

Matthew 7:12

Christianity

Try your best to treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself, and you will find that this is the shortest way to benevolence."

Mencius

Confucianism

One should not behave towards others in a way which is disagreeable to oneself.

Hinduism

One should not behave towards others in a way which is disagreeable to oneself.

Ancient Egyptian

"Don't do things you wouldn't want to have done to you"

Humanists affirm that individual and social problems can only be resolved by means of human reason, intelligent effort, critical thinking joined with compassion and a spirit of empathy for all living beings.

Humanism

None of you [truly] believes until he wishes for his brother what he wishes for himself.

Imam "Al-Nawawi's Forty Hadiths.

Jainism

Therefore, neither does he [a sage] cause violence to others nor does he make others do so.

Acarangasutra

Islam

...thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.

Leviticus 19:18

What is hateful to you, do not to your fellow man. This is the law: all the rest is commentary.

Talmud, Shabbat

Judaism

Respect for all life is the foundation." The Great Law of Peace. "All things are our relatives; what we do to everything, we do to ourselves. All is really One.

Black Elk

NativeAmerican Spirituality

The basis of Sufism is consideration of the hearts and feelings of others. If you haven't the will to gladden someone's heart, then at least beware lest you hurt someone's heart, for on our path, no sin exists but this. Javad Nurbakhsh

Sufism

"...a state that is not pleasing or delightful to me, how could I inflict that upon another?"

Samyutta NIkaya v.

Buddhism

Regard your neighbor's gain as your own gain, and your neighbor's loss as your own loss.

Tao Teh Ching

Taoism

The heart of the person before you is a mirror. See there your own form" "Be charitable to all beings, love is the representative of God.

Ko-ji-ki Hachiman Kasuga

Shinto

One going to take a pointed stick to pinch a baby bird should first try it on himself to feel how it hurts. Yoruba: (Nigeria)

That nature alone is good which refrains from doing unto another whatsoever is not good for itself

Dadistan-i-dinik

Zoroastrianism

We affirm and promote respect for the interdependent of all existence of which we are a part.

Unitarian

An it harm no one, do what thou wilt

Wicca

Two thousand years ago Jesus of Nazareth stated this law this way:
“Judge not, and you shall not be judged. Condemn not, and you shall not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you: good measure, pressed down, shaken together, and running over will be put into your bosom. For with the same measure that you use, it will be measured back to you.“

IMAGE

Figurines

Antony Gormley's

Photo manipulation

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-05T11:03:00.000+10:00

RESPEITO

Até quando aceitaremos situações e pessoas serem julgadas em termos de religião e poder económico?Carácter e atitudes devem ser as medidas que nos motivam e regulam, por deplorável que anti-semitismo seja o povo judeus não tem a exclusividade de discriminação, racismo e atrocidades. Hoje e aqui como por este mundo passado e presente, somos espectadores manipulados de situações análogas com consequências desastrosas, mas quem se queda para as analisar e resolver?

A hipocrisia é o maior cancro das boas intenções. É tempo de mudança.

Malou

Não existe outra via para a solidariedade humana senão a procura e o respeito da dignidade individual
Pierre Nouy

É preferível cultivar o respeito do bem que o respeito pela lei
Henry Thoreau

IMAGE

Justin Simoni

This is one of my favourite things

2006-08-04T08:02:00.000+10:00

SHAPING THE EARTH

The Mad Potter

Now at the turn of the year this coil of clay
Bites its own tail: a New Year starts to choke
On the old one's ragged end. I bite my tongue
As the end of me--of my rope of stuff and nonsense
(The nonsense held, it was the stuff that broke),
Of bones and light, of levity and crime,
Of reddish clay and hope--still bides its time.

Each of my pots is quite unusable,
Even for contemplating as an object
Of gross unuse. In its own mode of being
Useless, though, each of them remains unique,
Subject to nothing, and themselves unseeing,
Stronger by virtue of what makes them weak.

I pound at all my clay. I pound the air.
This senseless lump, slapped into something like
Something, sits bound around by my despair.
For even as the great Creator's free
Hand shapes the forms of life, so--what? This pot,
Unhollowed solid, too full of itself,
Runneth over with incapacity.
I put it with the others on the shelf.

These tiny cups will each provide one sip
Of what's inside them, aphoristic prose
Unwilling, like full arguments, to make
Its points, then join them in extended lines
Like long draughts from the bowl of a deep lake.
The honey of knowledge, like my milky slip,
Firms slowly up against what merely flows.

Some of my older pieces bore inscriptions
That told a story only when you'd learned
How not to read them: LIVE reverted to EVIL,
EROS kept running backwards into SORE.
Their words, all fired up for truth, got burned.
I'll not write on weak vessels any more.

My juvenalia? I gave them names
In those days: Hans was all handles and no spout;
Bernie believed the whole world turned about
Himself alone; Sadie was close to James
(But Herman touched her bottom when he could);
Paul fell to pieces; Peter wore away
To nothing; Len was never any good;
Alf was a flat, random pancake, May
An opened blossom; Bud was an ash-tray.
Even their names break off, though; Whatsisface,
That death-mask of Desire, and--you know!--
The smaller version of that (Oh, what was it?--
You know . . .) All of my pots now have to go
By number only. Which is no disgrace.

Begin with being--in an anagram
Of unending--conclude in some dark den;
This is no matter. What I've been, I am:
What I will be is what I make of all
This clay, this moment. Now begin again . . .
Poured out of emptiness, drop by slow drop,
I start up at the quarreling sounds of water.
Pots cry out silently at me to stop.

What are we like? A barrelfull of this
Oozy wet substance, shadow-crammed, whose smudges
Of darkness lurk within but rise to kiss
The fingers that disturb the gently edges
Of their bland world of shapelessness and bliss.

The half-formed cup cries out in agony,
The lump of clay suffers a silent pain.
I heard the cup, though, full of feeling, say
"O clay be true, O clay keep constant to
Your need to take, again and once again,
This pounding from your mad creator who
Only stops hurting when he's hurting you."

What will I then have left behind me? Over
The years I have originated some
Glazes that wear away at what they cover
And weep for what they never can become.
My Deadware, widely imitated; blue
Skyware of an amazing lightness; tired
Hopewear that I abandoned for my own
Good reasons; Hereware; Thereware; ware that grew
Weary of everything that earth desired;
Hellware that dances while it's being fired,
Noware that vanishes while being thrown.

Appearing to be silly, wisdom survives
Like tribes of superseded gods who go
Hiding in caves of triviality
From which they laughingly control our lives.
So with my useless pots: safe from the blow
Of carelessness, or outrage at their flaws,
They brave time's lion and his smashing paws.
--All of which tempts intelligence to call
Pure uselessness one more commodity.
The Good-for-Nothing once became our Hero,
But images of him, laid-back, carelessly
Laughing, were upright statues after all.
From straight above, each cup adds up to zero.

Clay to clay: Soon I shall indeed become
Dumb as these solid cups of hardened mud
(Dull terra cruda colored like our blood);
Meanwhile the slap and thump of palm and thumb
On wet mis-shapenness begins to hum
With meaning that was silent for so long.
The words of my wheel's turning come to ring
Truer than Truth itself does, my great
Ding Dong-an-sich that echoes everything
(Against it even lovely bells ring wrong):
Its whole voice gathers up the purest parts
Of all our speech, the vowels of the earth,
The aspirations of our hopeful hearts

John Hollander

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Roxanne Swentzell

This is one of my favorite things

2006-08-03T08:50:00.000+10:00

GRATIDAO

Por hoje,ontem e amanha

O ponto mais alto da moral consiste na gratidão. E esta verdade proclamá-la-ão todas as cidades, todos os povos, mesmo os oriundos das regiões bárbaras, neste ponto estão de acordo os bons e os maus. Haverá quem aprecie sobretudo o prazer, outros haverá que julguem preferível o esforço activo; uns consideram a dor como o sumo mal, para outros a dor não será sequer um mal; alguns incluirão a riqueza no sumo bem, outros dirão que a riqueza foi inventada para o mal da humanidade e que o homem mais rico é aquele a quem a fortuna nada encontra para dar; no meio desta diversidade de posições uma coisa há que todos afirmarão, como soe dizer-se, a uma só voz: que devemos gratidão àqueles que nos favorecem. Neste ponto toda esta multidão de opiniões se mostra de acordo, mesmo quando por vezes pagamos favores com injúrias; e a primeira causa de ingratidão é não podermos ser suficientemente gratos. A insensatez chegou ao ponto de se tornar perigosíssimo fazer um grande benefício a alguém; como se considera uma vergonha não pagar o benefício, julga-se preferível não existir ninguém que no-lo faça! Goza em paz o que de mim recebeste; não to reclamo, não to exijo. Basta-me saber que te fui útil. Não há ódio mais violento do que o proveniente de um benefício não honrado!

Séneca

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Unidentified artist

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2006-07-28T09:31:00.000+10:00

SPINNING THE FUTURE

I know I hung on that windswept tree,
Swung there for nine long nights,
Wounded by my own blade,
Bloodied for Odin,
Myself an offering to myself:
Bound to the tree,
That no man knows
Whither the roots of it run.

None gave me bread,
None gave me drink,
Down to the deepest depths I peered
Until I spied the Runes.
With a roaring cry I seized them up,
Then dizzy and fainting, I fell.

Well being I won
And wisdom too.
I grew and took joy in my growth:
From a word to a word
I was led to a word,
From a deed to another deed.

The Poetic Edda

(circa 1200 A.D.)

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Unidentified artist

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2006-07-27T18:14:00.000+10:00

QUOTIDIANOS

JUSTERINI & BROOKS

Este punhal de veludo,

esta fria estalactite,

esta cicuta tao lenta

e que tão profundamente

fere. Esta lâmina

líquida, doirada,

este filtro parecido ao sol,

este rarefeito odor simultãneo

ao fumo, á água, pedra.

Este adormecer antes do sono,

só preâmbulo da vigilia,

que é o gélido acordar

da imaginacão para

as fronteiras dormentes

do horizonte protelado.

Este trajecto subterrâneo e hümido

pelos tüneis do infortünio,

que é o adiar moroso

da morte, no prolongar

silencioso da vida,

lägrimas da noite tornadas

pranto da madrugada,

rumor débil e distante

brandindo já no sangue

o endurecer das artérias.

RUI KNOPFLI

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Unidentified artist

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2006-07-26T15:07:00.000+10:00

CHASING THE DREAM

I see people in the world
Throw away their lives lusting after things,
Never able to satisfy their desires,
Falling into deep despair
And torturing themselves.
Even if they get what they want
How long will they be able to enjoy it?
For one heavenly pleasure
They suffer ten torments of hell,
Binding themselves more firmly to the grindstone.
Such people are like monkeys
Frantically grasping for the moon in the water

And then falling into a whirlpool.
How endlessly those caught up
in the floating world
Suffer.
RYOKAN

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Unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-25T10:20:00.000+10:00

NA ESPUMA DA MEMORIA

Portugal

Estou na praia, fecho os olhos e sonho que estou na praia. Fechei os olhos, porque desce o ar azul cobalto concentrado, de facto não suportável e assim no primeiro escuro doirado, me lembra o verso de Ivan B, num poema sobre os códigos da fruta, onde se diz azul portugal como existe azul berlim e Ocre siena, poema escrito por alguém que nunca passou nesta praia e quando li o poema também não sonhava que um dia havia de estar nessa mesma praia com os olhos fechados sempre e sonhar estar na praia que desce e eu a descer com ela, horizontal ocidental, e já não sei se estou realmente, se estou realmente na praia, se estou com os olhos abertos, fechados ou outros.

Jorge Listopad

From

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M. Garmash

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2006-07-24T09:14:00.000+10:00

WHEN WE FINALLY UNITE ...

A Daughter of Eve

A fool I was to sleep at noon,

And wake when night is chilly

Beneath the comfortless cold moon;

A fool to pluck my rose too soon,

A fool to snap my lily.

My garden-plot I have not kept;

Faded and all-forsaken,

I weep as I have never wept:

Oh it was summer when I slept,

It's winter now I waken.

Talk what you please of future spring

And sun-warm'd sweet to-morrow:—

Stripp'd bare of hope and everything,

No more to laugh, no more to sing,

I sit alone with sorrow.

Christina Rossetti

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Unidentified artist

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2006-07-21T08:11:00.000+10:00

O NEGOCIO DA VERDADE

FÉNIX

procuro a pena mas a pena é pato
que num bico de tinta se tortura
e esfera que roda na tontura
de uma letra difícil e que mato

a pena é arma e ama quem a usa

esferograficamente ou só carvão do lápis

o sangue negro da caneta é rubro

como um sonho de rosas que se abusa

neste papel espelho narciso é filiforme
envolvido do dedos e impulsos
a perturbar a folha do plátano outono

e a escrita surge em água ou animal

que foge polo espaço dos seus usos

e se nega na entrega de um sinal

E.M.de Melo e Castro

From

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Unidentified artist

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2006-07-19T13:17:00.000+10:00

NOTES ON:

THE MEANING OF LIFE

'Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how.'

Viktor Frankl

...

THE EXISTENTIAL VACUUM

The existential vacuum is a widespread phenomenon of the twentieth century. This is understandable; it may be due to a twofold loss which man has had to undergo since he became a truly human being. At the beginning of human history, man lost some of the basic animal instincts in which an animal’s behavior is imbeded and by which it is secured. Such security, like paradise, is closed to man forever; man has to make choices. In addition to this, however, man has suffered an other loss in his more recent development inasmuch the traditions which buttressed his behavior are now rapidly diminishing. No instinct to tell him what he has to do and no tradition tells him what he ought to do; sometimes he does not even know what he wishes to do. Instead, he either wishes to do what other people do (conformism) or he does what other people wish him to do (totalitarianism).
A statistical survey recently revealed that among my European students, 25 percent showed a more-or-less ed degree of existential vacuum. Among my American students it was not 25 but 60 percent. The existential vacuum manifests itself mainly in a of boredom. Now we can understand Schopenhauer when he said that mankind was apparently doomed to vacillate eternally between the two extremes of distress and boredom. In actual fact, boredom is now causing, and certainly bringing to psychiatrists, more problems to solve than distress. And these problems are growing increasingly crucial, for progressive automation will probably lead to an enormous e in the leisure hours available to the average worker. The pity of it is that many of these will not know what to do with all their newly acquired free time.
…
Moreover, there are various masks and guises under the existential vacuum appears. Sometimes the frustrated will to meaning is vicariously compensated for by a will to power, including the most primitive of the will to power, the will to money. In other cases, the place of frustrated will to meaning is taken by the will to pleasure. That is why existential frustration often eventuates in sexual compensation. We can observe in such cases that the sexual libido become rampant in the existential vacuum.

...

VIKTOR E. FRANKL

From

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MALOU

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2006-07-19T10:22:00.000+10:00

GIRASSOIS

GIRASSOIS
Adormecer sobre a profusão dos girassóis, pensando nos flancos menos expostos de outro corpo. Várias foram as negligências do olhar, bem pouco curioso para outra coisa que não fosse a nudez da terra, as vezes muito jovem, outras, fatigada. 0 desejo, sé o desejo impede a perversão da alegria. E destas silabas.

Eugénio de Andrade

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MALOU

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-17T11:22:00.000+10:00

HOMAGE Dirge Of Love

Come away, come away, death,

And in sad cypres let me be laid;

Fly away, fly away, breath;

I am slain by a fair cruel maid.

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,

O prepare it!

My part of death, no one so true

Did share it.

Not a flower, not a flower sweet,

On my black coffin let there be strown;

Not a friend, not a friend greet

My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown:

A thousand thousand sighs to save,

Lay me, O, where

Sad true lover never find my grave

To weep there!

William Shakespeare

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Bronwyn Oliver

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2006-07-14T15:59:00.000+10:00

I AM TIRED OF YOUR SHIT...

The talented ERYKAH BADU

Tyrone

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-13T17:12:00.000+10:00

NADA JAMAIS SOUBE

Jeito de Escrever

Não sei que diga.

E a quem o dizer?

Não sei que pense.

Nada jamais soube.

Nem de mim, nem dos outros.

Nem do tempo, do céu e da terra, das coisas...

Seja do que for ou do que fosse.

Não sei que diga, não sei que pense.

Oiço os ralos queixosos, arrastados.

Ralos serão?

Horas da noite.

Noite começada ou adiantada, noite.

Como é bonito escrever!

Com este longo aparo, bonitas as letras e o gesto - o jeito.

Ao acaso, sem âncora, vago no tempo.

No tempo vago...

Ele vago e eu sem amparo.

Piam pássaros, trespassam o luto do espaço, este sereno luto das horas.

Mortas!

E por mais não ter que relatar me cerro.

Expressão antiga, epistolar: me cerro.

Tão grato é o velho, inopinado e novo.

Me cerro!

Assim: uma das mãos no papel, dedos fincados, solta a outra, de pena expectante.

Uma que agarra, a outra que espera...

Ó ilusão!

E tudo acabou, acaba.

Para quê a busca das coisas novas, à toa e à roda?

Silêncio.

Nem pássaros já, noite morta.

Me cerro.

Ó minha derradeira composição!

Do não, do nem, do nada, da ausência e solidão.

Da indiferença.

Quero eu que o seja! da indiferença ilimitada.

Noite vasta e contínua, caminha, caminha.

Alonga-te.

A ribeira acordou.

IRENE LISBOA

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Unidentified artist

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2006-07-12T09:55:00.000+10:00

I SPY WITH MY LITLE EYE...

Alone Looking at the Mountain

All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other -
Only the mountain and I.

Li Bai

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©MALOU

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-10T10:55:00.000+10:00

É PRECISO DIZER TRANSCENDENTE

EM VEZ DE PRAGMÁTICO

EXERCICIO ESPIRITUAL

É preciso dizer rosa em vez de dizer ideia
é preciso dizer azul em vez de dizer pantera

é preciso dizer febre em vez de dizer inocência

é preciso dizer o mundo em vez de dizer um homem

É preciso dizer candelabro em vez de dizer arcano

é preciso dizer Para Sempre em vez de dizer Agora

é preciso dizer 0 Dia em vez de dizer Um Ano

é preciso dizer Maria em vez de dizer aurora

CESARINY

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Missy G

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-09T11:05:00.000+10:00

TIFFANY AND CARTIER

Marilyn Monroe - Diamonds are a girl´s best friend

Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friends

The French were bred to die for love

they delight in fighting duels

but I prefer a man who lives

and gives expensive jewels.

A kiss on the hand may be quite continental

but diamonds are a girl's best friend.

A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental

on your humble flat, or help you at the automat.

Men grow cold as girls grow old

and we all lose our charms in the end.

But square-cut or pear-shaped

these rocks don't lose their shapeDiamonds are a girl's best friend

...Tiffany's ... Cartier...

Talk to me, Harry, Winston,tell me all about it!

There may come a time when a lass needs a lawyer

but diamonds are a girl's best friend.

There may come a time when a hard-boiled employer

thinks you're awful nice

but get that ice or else no dice.

He's your guy when stocks are high

but beware when they start to descend,

It's then that those louses go back to their spouses

Diamonds are a girl's best friend.

I've heard of affairs that are strictly platonic

but diamonds are a girl's best friend,

and I think affairs that you must keep liaisonic

are better bets if little pets get big baggette

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-08T12:36:00.000+10:00

HÁ MENINA TRISTE EM TODAS NÓS

POESIA DE ALBUM ALHEIO

A menina era bela?

A menina era feia?

Não se sabe quem o visse.

Nos seus olhos, a menina,

A menina, era triste.

Se a menina nos olhava

Lá no fundo que haveria?

Uma ave que passava?

Um breve sol que floria?

Urna verdade? Uma sombra?

Se a menina nos olhava

Lá no fundo que sofria?

Húmida água que sonha.

Húmida água, sem dia.

MARIA ALIETE GALHOZ

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Robert Wess

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-06T10:48:00.000+10:00

DARE TO BE YOURSELF

THE GREAT INDIA ARIE

India Arie - Video (Live)

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-05T10:59:00.000+10:00

GREAT MESSAGE ,GREAT VOICE, GREAT SONG

Video

Sometimes I shave my legs and sometimes I don't

Sometimes I comb my hair and sometimes I won't

Depend on how the wind blows I might even paint my toes

It really just depends on whatever feels good in my soul

I'm not the average girl from your video

and I ain't built like a supermodel

But, I learned to love myself unconditionally

Because I am a queen

I'm not the average girl from your video

My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes

No matter what I'm wearing I will always be India Arie

When I look in the mirror and the only one there is me

Every freckle on my face is where it's supposed to be

And I know my creator didn't make no mistakes on me

My feet, my thighs, my lips, my eyes; I'm lovin' what I see

I'm not the average girl from your videoand

I ain't built like a supermodel

But, I learned to love myself unconditionally

Because I am a queen

I'm not the average girl from your video

My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes

No matter what I'm wearing I will always be India Arie

Am I less of a lady if I don't wear pantyhose?

My mama said a lady ain't what she wears but, what she knows

But, I've drawn a conclusion, it's all an illusion, confusion's the name of the game

A misconception, a vast deception

Something's gotta change

Don't be offended this is all my opinion

ain't nothing that I'm sayin law

This is a true confession of a life learned lesson

I was sent here to share with

y'all

So get in where you fit in go on and shine

Clear your mind, now's the time

Put your salt on the shelf

Go on and love yourself'

Cuz everything's gonna be all right

I'm not the average girl from your video

and I ain't built like a supermodel

But, I Learned to love myself unconditionally

Because I am a queen

I'm not the average girl from your video

My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes

No matter what I'm wearing I will always be India Arie

Keep your fancy drinks and your expensive minks

I don't need that to have a good time

Keep your expensive car and your caviar

All I need is my guitar

Keep your Kristal and your pistol

I'd rather have a pretty piece of crystal

Don't need your silicon I prefer my own

What God gave me is just fine

I'm not the average girl from your video

and I ain't built like a supermodel

But, I learned to love myself unconditionally

Because I am a queen

I'm not the average girl from your video

My worth is not determined by the price of my clothes

No matter what I'm wearing I will always be India Arie

INDIA ARIE

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-04T10:22:00.000+10:00

ENCONTRAR ME NAS PALAVRAS DOS MESTRES

NOTAS AUTOBIOGRAFICAS E DE AUTOGNOSE

[ms.) [1914?)
Pertenço a uma geraçâo que ainda está por vir, cuja alma näo conhece já, realmente, a sinceridade e os sentimentos sociais. Por isso nâo compreendo como é que uma criatura fica desqualificada, nem como é que ela o sente. É oca de sentido, para mim, toda essa (...) das conveniéncias sociais. Não sinto o que é honra, vergonha, dignidade. São para mirn, como para os do meu alto nível nervoso, palavras de uma língua estrangeira, como umn sorn anónirno a penas. Ao dizerem que me desqualificaram, eu não percebo senão que se fala de mim, mas o sentido da frase escapa-me. Assisto ao que me acontece, de longe, desprendidamente, sorrindo ligeiramente das cousas que acontecem na vida. Hoje, ainda ninguém sente isto; mas um dia virá quem o possa perceber. Procurei sernpre ser espectador da vida, sern me misturar nela. Assirn, a isto que se passa cornigo, eu assisto como urn estranho; salvo que tiro dos pobres acontecimentos que me cercam a volúpia suave (1) de (...). Não tenho rancor nenhum a quem provocou isto. Eu não tenho rancores nem ódios. Esses sentimentos pertencem àqueles que têm uma opiniâo, on uma profissão on urn objectivo na vida. Eu não tenho nada dessas cousas. Tenho na vida o interesse de urn decifrador de charadas. Mas eu näo tenho princípios. Hoje defendo uma cousa, arnanhã outra. Mas nâo creio no que defendo hoje, nern arnanhã terei fé no que defenderei. Brincar corn as ideias e corn os sentimentos pareceu-rne sernpre o destino suprernamente belo. Tento realizá-lo quanto posso. Nunca me tinha sentido desqualificado. Como lhe agradecer ter-me ministrado esse prazer! Ele é urna volúpia suave, como que longínqua... Não nos entendem, bem sei...
Assim como criador de anarquias me pareceu sempre o papel digno de um intelectual (dado que a intelegência desintegra e a análise estiola).

LIVRO

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Unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-03T15:26:00.000+10:00

STILL AND SOLITARY

You do not need to leave your room.

Remain sitting at your table and listen.

Do not even listen, simply wait.

Do not even wait, be still and solitary.

The world will freely offer itself to you

to be unmasked, it has no choice.

It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.

FRANZ KAFKA

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Unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-07-01T10:51:00.000+10:00

RUI BELO

SETE COISAS VERDADEIRAS

EM CIMA DE MEUS DIAS

Muita gente me tem falado a meu respeito

como quem me chamasse pelo nome e eu me voltasse

e nesse nome dito nessa boca fosse toda a minha vida

e eu morresse quando entre pinhais quem me chamara a [fechasse

Muita gente me tem falado a meu respeito

mas eu cresço e decresco não reparo e anoitece
e já nem sei ao certo quantos dias meço

Regresso com o gado contra o sol rasante

Mas é de névoa ou fumo o algodao que cobre as casas

aonde regressamos atraídos pela luz que já nos campos se [consome?

Os ciprestes os pássaros saúdam-me e eu passo

com um olho vasado transpareco o meu passado

e tudo esqueco e peço mesmo aDeus que esqueca quanto sou
além dessa medida simples onde me vasou

Sabermos nos que a face de algum mar ao pôr-do-sol pode [mudar

e nenhum dia-a-dia consentir ao homem mais que a mama [superfIcie

dos gestos por que troca a mais Intima morte que merece

Nada na minha poesia é meu

juro por Deus dizer toda a verdade

Ponho a mão na cabeça o dia e escuro e vago e eu respire
Espero pela manhã como quem nasce

Ninguém sabe o meu nome porque

eu já perdi ao longe alguns dos olhos
e fui feliz em cafés de provincia onde me vi sentar

Digam que foi mentira, que nao sou ninguém,

que atravesso apenas ruas da cidade abandonada

fechada como boca onde não encontro nada:

não encontro respostas para tudo o que pergunto nem
na verdade pergunto coisas por aí além

Eu não vivi ali em tempo algum

E de manhã caminho nem meus passos oiço

oitenta passos diz-se que darei

Vão-se fechando os dois alinhamentos das moradas
arredonda-se o largo, alguns problemas camarários
Duvido de mim próprio: quem serei?

o carro rega coisas tao profundas como esta

Meu Deus meu Deus, que mal eu fiz?

Eu estive em Dinard e you talvez casar

Acordo e transistorizo os dois ouvidos numa música abundante

Muita gente me tem falado a meu respeito

mas eu cresço e minguo certas vezes anoitece

Sou coisa que se molha encolhe e envelhece

tudo me aquece e tudo me arrefece

Dois pés e duas mãos, algumas pás de terra

E sabem mesmo que o meu nome eRá, por isso me conhecem
Sou a doenca e sou onde me dói

sou sitio onde se nega que se morre

Tem graça haver quem fale a meu respeito

RUI BELO

IMAGE

Gerard Dubois

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-30T15:05:00.000+10:00

SOUL JOURNEYS

...

The lifetime of your personality is one of a myriad of experiences of your soul. The soul exists outside of time. The perspective of the soul is immense, and the perception of the soul is without the limitations of the personality. Souls that have chosen the physical experience of life as we know it as a path of evolution, have, in general, incarnated their energies many times into many psychological and physical forms. For each incarnation, the soul creates a different personality and body. The personality and the body that, for the five-sensory human, are the experiential entirety of its existence, are, for its soul, the unique and perfectly suited instruments of a particular incarnation.
Each personality contributes, in its own special way, with its own special aptitudes and lessons to learn, consciously or unconsciously, to the evolution of its soul. The life of a mother, a warrior, a daughter, a priest; the experiences of love, vulnerability, fear, loss, and tenderness; the struggles with anger, defiance, emptiness, and jealousy —all serve the evolution of the soul. Each physical, emotional and psychological characteristic that comprises a personality and its body—strong or weak arms, dense or penetrating intellect, happy or despairing disposition, yellow or black skin, even hair and eye color—is perfectly suited to its soul’s purpose.
The five-sensory personality is not aware of the many other incarnations of its soul. A multisensory personality may be conscious of these incarnations, or experience them, as its own past or future lives. They are in its family of lives, so to speak, but they are not lives that it, itself, has lived. They are experiences of its soul.
From the point of view of the soul, all of its incarnations are simultaneous. All of its personalities exist at once. Therefore, the release of negativity that occurs in one of the soul’s incarnations benefits not only itself, but all of its soul’s other incarnations also. Because the soul, itself, is not confined to time, the past of a personality, as well as its future, is enhanced when a personality releases currents of fear and doubt. As we shall see, the release of negativity by a personality benefits a great many other dynamics of consciousness as well. Some of these can be perceived by the five-sensory human, but appear to him or her neither as dynamics of consciousness, nor as related to his or her inner processes, such as the consciousness and evolution of his or her sex, race, nation and culture. Others extend far beyond the perceptual ability of the five-sensory human. A conscious lifetime, therefore, is a treasure beyond value. The personality and its body are artificial aspects of the soul. When they have served their functions, at the end of the soul’s incarnation, the soul releases them. They come to an end, but the soul does not. After an incarnation, the soul returns to its immortal and tinieless state. It returns once again to its natural state of compassion, clarity and boundless love. This is the context in which our evolution occurs: the continual incarnation and reincarnation of the energy of the soul into the physical arena, into our Earth school. Why does this happen? Why is it necessary even to speak of personalities and souls? The incarnation of a soul is a massive reduction of the power of the soul to a scale that is appropriate to a physical form. It is a reduction of an immortal Life system into the framework of time and the span of a few years.

...

BOOK

IMAGE
Peter Davie

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-29T09:48:00.000+10:00

CAMINHOS

CAMINHOS

DE olhos fechados vejo Os caminhos. Seixos brancos e redondos, lajes, asfalto luzidios. Tamem terra. Tarnbém areia. As esquinas das ruas, as praças, o vento ao longo dos cais, avenidas rasgadas de trafego, arvores de boulevards, bancos de parques, arfar de comboios, bramido de ondas nos Cascos dos navios. Formas, sons, odores, tudo intacto no quadro da rnernória. Uma fotografia. Sorria. Volte um pouquinho a cabeca... Perfeito. Passej por Ia, estaquei, fiquei l para sempre. Nas paragens solitárias, nos passejos apinhados, na fachada das casas, nos muros dos jardins particulares com grades onde cães rugiam como se fossem leöes... Na China o leão dançava na festa da Deusa A-Ma; era arnarelo, corpo de seda, cabeça onírica de dragã. Fiquei lá. Natal. Dia de anos. Noite de Ano Born. Falava lingua estrangeira. Palavras que me lançavarn e que devolvia, qual jogo de bola. Fiquei lá muda. Uma vez o nevoejro cobriu a cidade. Desorientei-me. A ladeira íngreme e escorregadia. Contava os passos: one, two, three. E se nunca chegasse ao meu destino? Se fosse dar ao rio? 0 rio era negro, e a ponte iluminada, uma longínqua, perdida constelação.
Encontros. Como se çhama? Há quanto tempo está cá ? 0 meu rosto ao lado de outros no vidro das montras, nas janelas embaciadas das carruagens, ao correr das águas. Rosto levemente torcido, estranho, espantado. Que bebe? Os chineses ofereciam chá de jasmim. Aquele amigo indiano que sabia a cor das notas de música, mel e limão. Na Baía bebia-se água de coco pelo fruto rotundo e verde, no terreiro da macumba. Aqui a língua era a minha, soletrada, gostosa, a saber a infància. Fiquei nas salas de aula (a aprender ou a ensinar?), escrita no quadro preto, entalada nas carteiras com dedadas de tinta, pregada à parede como um mapa. Por corredores e escadas. Recortada na minha própria sombra ao luar dos trópicos ou num pátio de lousa ao clarão da fogueira do Guy Fawkes. Fiquei. Para urn dia me reencontrar hei-de tornar a esses caminhos, a ver outra vez tudo de olhos fechados: os deuses, os demónios, a minha ousadia, E o retrato voltará a ser perfeito. Mas serei capaz de me reconhecer?

Maria Ondina Braga

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-24T13:33:00.000+10:00

TUNING MY SOUL

Sabedoria não esta nas palavras;
Sabedoria esta na intenção das palavras.
Kahlil Gibran

Be not satisfied with partial contentment,

for he who engulfs the spring of life with

one empty jar will depart with two full jars.

Kahlil Gibran

IMAGES

Pier Poretti
...
Unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-23T08:53:00.000+10:00

FAKE IS ALWAYS IN DIRECT

PROPORTION TO PRETENCE

It's people who are the most uncertain in their hearts

who are the most dogmatic in their minds.

Podeis enganar toda a gente durante um certo tempo; podeis mesmo enganar algumas pessoas todo o tempo; mas não vos será possível enganar sempre toda a gente
Abraham Lincoln

IMAGES
Unidentified artist
...
DORIAN GRAY
By Ivan Albright

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-21T17:31:00.000+10:00

TENHO FASES

Lua Adversa

TENHO FASES, como a lua
Fases de andar escondida,
fases de vir para a rua...
Perdição da minha vida!
Perdição da vida minha!
Tenho fases de ser tua,
tenho outras de ser sozinha.

Fases que vão e que vêm,
no secreto calendário
que um astrólogo arbitrário
inventou para meu uso.

E roda a melancolia
seu interminável fuso!
Não me encontro com ninguém
(tenho fases, como a lua...)
No dia de alguém ser meu
não é dia de eu ser sua...
E, quando chega esse dia,
o outro desapareceu...

CECÍLIA MEIRELES

The mystery of things, where is it?

Where is it that does not appear

At least to show us that it is a mystery?

What knows the river of this and what knows the tree?

And I, who am no more than they are, what do I know?

Whenever I look at things and think about what men think of them,

I laugh like a rivulet that sounds so coolly upon a stone.

Because the only hidden meaning of things

Is that they have no hidden meaning.

Alberto Caeiro

IMAGES
Unidentified artist
...
Unidentified artists

SOUND
Battle in the Forest
Tan Dun

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-21T11:54:00.000+10:00

GRATEFUL FOR THE STONES

Song about Song

So many stones have been thrown at me

That I don't fear them any longer

Like elegant tower the westerner stands free

Among tall towers, the taller.

I'm grateful to their builders -- so be gone

Their sadness and their worry, go away,

Early from here I can see the dawn

And here triumphant lives the sun's last ray.

And frequently into my room's window

The winds from northern seas begin to blow

And pigeon from my palms eats wheat..

The pages that I did not complete

Divinely light she is and calm,

Will finish

Muse's suntanned arm.

Anna Akhmatova

Para poder morrer

Guardo insultos e agulhas

Entre as sedas do luto.

Para poder morrer

Desarmo as armadilhas

Me estendo entre as paredes

Derruídas

Para poder morrer

Visto as cambraias

E apascento os olhos

Para novas vidas

Para poder morrer apetecida

Me cubro de promessas

Da memória.

Porque assim é preciso

Para que tu vivas.

HILDA HILST

IMAGES

FLIP DIAZ

...

JERRY UELSMANN

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-17T11:22:00.000+10:00

THE SOURCE OF REAL POWER:

KNOWLEGE

THE TRUE KNOWLEDGE

Thou knowest all— I seek in vain

What lands to till or sow with seed—

The land is black with

briar and weed,

Nor cares for falling tears or rain.

Thou knowest all— I sit and wait

With blinded eyes and hands that fail,

Till the last lifting of the veil,

And the first opening of the gate.

Thou knowest all— I cannot see.

I trust I shall not live in vain,

I know that we shall meet again,

In some divine eternity.

Oscar Wilde

No Egipto, as bibliotecas eram chamadas ''Tesouro dos remédios da alma''. De facto é nelas que se cura a ignorância, a mais perigosa das enfermidades e a origem de todas as outras.

Jacques bossuet

IMAGES

M.C.ESCHER

...

M.C.ESCHER

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-09T09:05:00.000+10:00

TWIN SOULS

…
5

[ms.] [1910?]

I was a poet animated by philosophy, not a philosopher with poetic faculties. I loved to admire the beauty of things, to trace in the imperceptible through the minute the poetic soul of the universe. The poetry of the earth is never dead. We may say that ages gone have been more poetic, but we can say (...) Poetry is in everything—in land and in sea, in lake and in riverside. It is in the city too-deny it not—it is evident to me here as I sit: there is poetry in this table, in this paper, in this inkstand; there is poetry in the rattling of the cars on the streets, in each minute, common, ridiculous motion of a workman, who the other side of the street is painting the sign-board of a butcher’s shop. Mine inner sense predominates in such a way over my five senses that I see things in this life—I do believe it—in a way different from other men. There is for me—there was—a wealth of meaning in a thing so ridiculous as a door-key, a nail on a wall, a cat’s whiskers. There is to me a fulness of spiritual suggestion in a fowl with its chickens strutting across the road. There is to me a meaning deeper than human tears in the smell of sandalwood, in the old tins on a dirt heap, in a match box lying in the gutter, in two dirty papers which, on a windy day, will roll and chase each other down the street. For poetry is astonishment, admiration, as of a being fallen from the skies taking full consciousness of his fall, astonished about things. As of one who knew things in their souls, striving to remember this knowledge, remembering that it was not thus he knew them, not under these forms and these conditions, but remembering nothing more.

Eu era um poeta impulsionado pela filosofia, nâo um filósofo dotado de faculdades poéticas. Adorava admirar a beleza das coisas, descortinar no imperceptivel, através do que é diminuto, a alma poética do universo. A poesia da terra nunca rnorre. E possfvel dizermos que as eras transactas foram mais poeticas, mas podemos dizer (...) Ha poesia em tudo—na terra e no mar, nos lagos e nas margens dos rios. Ha-a também na cidade — não o neguemos—facto evidente para mim enquanto aqui estou sentado: ha poesia nesta mesa, neste papel, neste tinteiro; ha poesia na trepidação dos carros nas ruas; em cada movimento Infimo, vulgar, ridiculo, de um operário que, do outro lado da rua, pinta a tabuleta de um talho.
O meu sentido interior de tal modo predomina sobre os meus cinco sentidos que—estou convencido—vejo as coisas desta vida de modo diferente do dos outros homens. Existe para mim — existia — urn tesouro de significado numa coisa tao ridicula como uma chave, um prego na parede, os bigodes de um gato. Encontro toda uma plenitude de sugestão espiritual no espectáculo de uma ave doméstica com os seus pintainhos que, com ar pimpão, atravessam a rua. Encontro um significado mais profundo do que as lágrimas humanas no aroma do sândalo, nas latas velhas jazendo numa montureira, numa caixa de fósforos calda na valeta, em dois papéis sujos que, num dia ventoso, rolam e se perseguem rua abaixo. E que poesia e espanto, admiraçào, como de um ser tombado dos céus em plena consciência da sua queda, atónito com as coisas. Como de alguem que conhecesse a alma das coisas e se esforçasse por rememorar esse conhecimento, lembrando-se de que não era assim que as conhecia, não com estas formas e nestas condiçoes, mas de nada mais se recordando.

...
FERNANDO PESSOA
Paginas intimas e de auto-interpretacao

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-04T22:59:00.000+10:00

PERSONAL COMFORTS

Os simples prazeres satisfazem o corpo e a alma

e os prazeres simples satisfazem todos os sentidos

That sweet word

Running though my body
Enveloping my soul
Breaking down all barriers
Resistance is futile
This wonderful feeling
That Intense passion

All resolutions dethroned
My emotions run wild
Is it love, is it delusion
Maybe even madness
This wonderful feeling
That Intense passion

This ambiguous language
Clouds my senses
Erases my reason
Such a burden, such a misery
This wonderful feeling
That Intense passion

I unwrap slowly, softly
A gift from the land afar
Still resisting, still striving
All my senses came to be
This wonderful feeling
That Intense passion

In Unison, body and mind
I realize the moment
I surrender
This wonderful feeling
That Intense passion

That piece of heaven,
That sweet word
Chocolate
This wonderful feeling
This Intense passion

SOULAN LIARG

IMAGES
Unidentified artist

...

Malou

SOUND

Mediterranean sundance

john Mclaughlin, Paco de Lucia, Al di Meola

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-06-01T10:12:00.000+10:00

We are our thoughts , courage and choices.

Every day we lay it all in front of us ,tread on it and capture the moment.

And with every moment our intentions and expressions

change us and the world.

EVEN THE STARS LOOK LONESOME

...
were stolen and sold from the African continent together we crouched together in the barracoons, without enough to share between us. We lay, back to belly, in the filthy hatches of slave ships in one another’s excrement, menstrual blood and urine. We were hosed down and oiled to give sheen to our skin, then stood on the auction blocks and were sold together. We rose before sunrise from the cold ground were driven into the cane field and the cotton field together We each took the lash that pulled the skin from our backs. Each of us singled out for the sexual enjoyment and exploitation of those who desired our bodies but hated us.
…

MAYA ANGELOU

JOURNEY TO BELOVED

...
TURDAY, JUNE 21, 1997

[In order to research her role, Oprah participated in a reenactment of the Underground Railroad. In costume, with a new identity, she literally escapes from a plantation; and endures running and hiding to avoid capture. It was grueling, painful, and authentic.]

The Underground Railroad experience allowed me to go inside to feel the grief of losing control of your destiny. The meditation process to transition from 1997 to 1861, being blindfolded and vulnerable, having no power over when you can even speak. Amazing. Amazing Grace. Look at where I come from. Look at where I am. My God from Zion! It’s incredible. The realization of the depth and Truth of it. Slavery was about having no power whatsoever. That’s what became so real to me yesterday. More than a concept of no freedom. Freedom, I felt with such clarity, is the ability to think your own thoughts and do with them what you will. Choice. ¶1 briefly glimpsed the reality of NO choice. It was deadening. It was so painful. T didn’t want to feel it. Not even in that controlled, contrived space. So deep. So real. So much pain.

...
OPRAH WINFREY

O Navio Negreiro
...
IV
Era um sonho dantesco... o tombadilho

Que das luzernas avermelha o brilho.

Em sangue a se banhar.

Tinir de ferros... estalar de açoite...

Legiões de homens negros como a noite,

Horrendos a dançar...

Negras mulheres, suspendendo às tetas

Magras crianças, cujas bocas pretas

Rega o sangue das mães:

Outras moças, mas nuas e espantadas,

No turbilhão de espectros arrastadas,

Em ânsia e mágoa vãs!

E ri-se a orquestra irônica, estridente...

E da ronda fantástica a serpente

Faz doudas espirais ...

Se o velho arqueja, se no chão resvala,

Ouvem-se gritos... o chicote estala.

E voam mais e mais...

Presa nos elos de uma só cadeia,

A multidão faminta cambaleia,

E chora e dança ali!

Um de raiva delira, outro enlouquece,

Outro, que martírios embrutece,

Cantando, geme e ri!

No entanto o capitão manda a manobra,

E após fitando o céu que se desdobra,

Tão puro sobre o mar,

Diz do fumo entre os densos nevoeiros:

"Vibrai rijo o chicote, marinheiros!

Fazei-os mais dançar!..."

E ri-se a orquestra irônica, estridente. . .

E da ronda fantástica a serpente

Faz doudas espirais...

Qual um sonho dantesco as sombras voam!...

Gritos, ais, maldições, preces ressoam!

E ri-se Satanás!

...

CASTRO ALVES

(1847 - 1871)

IMAGES

From the book:

JOURNEY TO BELOVED

...

From the book :

JOURNEY TO BELOVED

...

Unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-30T10:46:00.000+10:00

TAKE A GOOD LOOK...

Your vision will become clear only when you can look into your heart.

Who looks outside, dreams.

Who looks inside, awakes.

CARL JUNG

A Desordem da Minha Natureza
(...) enfrentei pela primeira vez o meu ser natural enquanto decorriam os meus noventa anos. Descobri que a minha obsessão de que cada coisa estivesse no seu lugar, cada assunto no seu tempo, cada palavra no seu estilo, não era o prémio merecido de uma mente ordenada mas, pelo contrário, um sistema completo de simulação inventado por mim para ocultar a desordem da minha natureza. Descobri que não sou disciplinado por virtude, mas como reacção contra a minha negligência; que pareço generoso para encobrir a minha mesquinhez, que passo por prudente por ser pessimista, que sou conciliador para não sucumbir às minhas cóleras reprimidas, que só sou pontual para que não se saiba que pouco me importa o tempo alheio. Descobri, por fim, que o amor não é um estado de alma mas um signo do Zodíaco.

Gabriel García Marquez,

'Memória das Minhas Putas Tristes'

IMAGES
Roxanne Swentzell
...
Roxanne Swentzell

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-29T10:51:00.000+10:00

RETALHOS

Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci
...

506.

PAINTING.

The mind of the painter must resemble a mirror, which always takes
the colour of the object it reflects and is completely occupied by
the images of as many objects as are in front of it. Therefore you
must know, Oh Painter! that you cannot be a good one if you are not
the universal master of representing by your art every kind of form
produced by nature. And this you will not know how to do if you do
not see them, and retain them in your mind. Hence as you go through
the fields, turn your attention to various objects, and, in turn
look now at this thing and now at that, collecting a store of divers
facts selected and chosen from those of less value. But do not do
like some painters who, when they are wearied with exercising their
fancy dismiss their work from their thoughts and take exercise in
walking for relaxation, but still keep fatigue in their mind which,
though they see various objects [around them], does not apprehend
them; but, even when they meet friends or relations and are saluted
by them, although they see and hear them, take no more cognisance of
them than if they had met so much empty air.

...

Leonardo Da Vinci

CONVERSAS COM SARAH AFFONSO

...

Um dia a minha filha trouxe-me um dos Códices do Leornardo da Vinci, que era a compilaçao das últimas obras dele. 0 Leonardo da Vinci morreu com uns 90 e tal. Quando corneçou a ficar muito veiho foi viver para casa dum discípulo querido, onde fez uma série de desenhos. Punha debaixo do braço uma resrna de papel e ia para o campo desenhar. Ficava por fora todo o dia e só vinha á noite. Quando morreu toda essa obra ficou em casa do discípulo, que com uma grande admiração, guardou tudo.Por sua vez o discípulo morreu e ficou o filho, que começou a vender e a dispersar todos os desenhos, uns para aqui outros para acolá.Uns foram parar a Inglaterra, outros a Espanha e outros ainda ficararn em Itália. Foi um espanhol que conseguiu reunir tudo de novo e fazer o tal códice. Eu vi o livro e passados uns dias sou operada.Com aquelas drogas que dão para anestesiar tive alucinaçöes e sonhos.Muitas vezes nesses sonhos via o Leonardo da Vinci a fazer desenhos de flores e ervinhas selvagens. Depois da operação passada, fui-me restabelecer para Bicesse e ia cheia de vontade de desenhar. Os sonhos com o Leonardo da Vinci tinharn-me aberto o apetite para aquelas flores e folhas... Desenhei, desenhei e mais tarde quando voltei para Lisboa encontro o Códice e com muita curiosidade peguei nele para o desfolhar. Não havia praticarnente desenhos de flores, eramn de máquinas, coisas de engenharia! Como ele ia para o carnpo, entendi que ia desenhar e ervas, mas no fmn quem queria desenhar plantas e ervas era eu!

...
Maria José de Almada Negreiros

ARCADIA ,1882

IMAGES

LEONARDO DA VINCI
...

Rigth:Primeiro desenho, 1911

Left:SARAH AFFONSO,Paris

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-23T15:01:00.000+10:00

ILUSIONS

…
THE FAST MIRROR AND THE SLOW

One spring Princess Ateh said: “I have grown accustomed to my thoughts, as to my dresses. They always have the same waistline, and I see them everywhere, even at the crossroads .Worst of all they make it impossible to see the crossroads any more.” One day, hoping to amuse her, the princess’s servants brought her two mirrors. They were much like other Khazar mirrors. Both were made of shiny salt, but one was fast and the other slow. Whatever the fast mirror picked up, reflecting the world like an advance on the future, the slow mirror returned, settling the debt of the former, because it was as slow in relation to the present as the other was fast. When they brought the mirrors to Princess Ateh, she was still in bed and the letters had not yet been washed off her eyelids. She saw herself in the mirrors with closed lids and died instantly. She vanished between two blinks of the eye, or better paid, for the first time she read the lethal letters on her eyelids, because she had blinked the moment before and the moment after, and the mirrors had reflected it. She died, killed simultaneously by letters from both the past and the future.
...
From: DICTIONARY OF THE KHAZARS

MILORAD PAVIĆ

Morta
Morta,
Como és clara,
Que frescura ficou entre os teus dedos...
És uma fonte,
Com pedras brancas no fundo,
És uma fonte que de noite canta
E silenciosamente
Vêm peixes de prata à tona de água.
Morta como és clara,
E florida ...
És a brisa
Que num gesto de adeus passa nas folhas,
És a brisa que leva os perfumes e os entorna,
És os passos leves da brisa
Quando nas ruas não passa mais ninguém!
És um ramo de tília onde o silêncio floresce,
És um lago onde as imagens se inquietam,
És a secreta nostalgia duma festa
Que nos jardins murmura.
Cantando
Com as mãos deslizando pelos muros
Passas colhendo
O sangue vermelho e maduro das amoras
Vais e vens
Solitária e transparente
E a memória das coisas te acompanha.
Morta como és clara,
E perdida!
És a meia-noite da noite,
És a varanda voltada para o vento,
És uma pena solitária e lisa,
As sombras recomeçam a dançar,
O perfume das algas enche o ar
E as ramagens encostam-se às janelas:
Suaves cabelos de pena tem a brisa.
Sozinha passas no fim das avenidas.
Não mostras o teu rosto,
Passas de costas com um vestido branco.
Como tu és leve e doce como um sono!
O sopro da noite enche-se de angústia
E de mim sobem palavras solitárias:
És o perfume de infância que há nas rochas,
És o vestido de infância que há nos campos,
És a pena de infância que há na noite.
Subitamente
Agarro perco a forma do teu rosto:
Como tu és fresca!
Passas e dos teus dedos correm fontes.
Como tu és leve,
Mais leve que uma dança!
Mal chegaste, mal voltaste, mal te vi
Já no fundo dos caminhos te extinguiste:
Areia lisa e branca que nenhum passo pisa
Pena lisa
Angústia fonte fresca e brisa.

Sophia de Mello Breyner Andresen

IMAGES
1,2,
UNIDENTIFIED ARTISTS

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-20T10:36:00.000+10:00

EVERY STEP YOU TAKE

EVERY MOVE YOU MAKE...

Deste Modo ou Daquele Modo

Deste modo ou daquele modo.
Conforme calha ou não calha.
Podendo às vezes dizer o que penso,
E outras vezes dizendo-o mal e com misturas,
Vou escrevendo os meus versos sem querer,
Como se escrever não fosse uma cousa feita de gestos,
Como se escrever fosse uma cousa que me acontecesse
Como dar-me o sol de fora.
Procuro dizer o que sinto
Sem pensar em que o sinto.
Procuro encostar as palavras à idéia
E não precisar dum corredor
Do pensamento para as palavras

Nem sempre consigo sentir o que sei que devo sentir.
O meu pensamento só muito devagar atravessa o rio a nado
Porque lhe pesa o fato que os homens o fizeram usar.

Procuro despir-me do que aprendi,
Procuro esquecer-me do modo de lembrar que me ensinaram,
E raspar a tinta com que me pintaram os sentidos,
Desencaixotar as minhas emoções verdadeiras,
Desembrulhar-me e ser eu, não Alberto Caeiro,
Mas um animal humano que a Natureza produziu.

E assim escrevo, querendo sentir a Natureza, nem sequer como um homem,
Mas como quem sente a Natureza, e mais nada.
E assim escrevo, ora bem ora mal,
Ora acertando com o que quero dizer ora errando,
Caindo aqui, levantando-me acolá,
Mas indo sempre no meu caminho como um cego teimoso.

Ainda assim, sou alguém.
Sou o Descobridor da Natureza.
Sou o Argonauta das sensações verdadeiras.
Trago ao Universo um novo Universo
Porque trago ao Universo ele-próprio.

Isto sinto e isto escrevo
Perfeitamente sabedor e sem que não veja
Que são cinco horas do amanhecer
E que o sol, que ainda não mostrou a cabeça
Por cima do muro do horizonte,
Ainda assim já se lhe vêem as pontas dos dedos
Agarrando o cimo do muro
Do horizonte cheio de montes baixos.

Alberto Caeiro

The Madman
His Parables and Poems

You ask me how I became a madman. It happened thus: One day, long before many gods were born, I woke from a deep sleep and found all my masks were stolen,—the seven masks I have fashioned an worn in seven lives,—I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting, “Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.” Men and women laughed at me and some ran to their houses in fear of me. And when I reached the market place, a youth standing on a house-top cried, “He is a madman.” I looked up to behold him; the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time. For the first time the sun kissed my own naked face and my soul was inflamed with love for the sun, and I wanted my masks no more. And as if in a trance I cried, “Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.” Thus I became a madman. And I have found both freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us. But let me not be too proud of my safety. Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

Kahlil Gibran

SOUND
Mutiny on the bounty
VANGELIS

IMAGES
MALOU

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-19T07:56:00.000+10:00

HOPE FOR THE TRUTH

A verdade foi me revelada

há uma dezena de anos.

Quando se procura a verdade ela

tem sempre um jeito de nos encontrar .

A UM LIVRO

No silêncio de cinzas do meu Ser

Agita-se uma sombra de cypreste.

Sombra roubada ao livro que ando a ler,

A esse livro de máguas que me deste.

Extranho livro aquele que escreveste

Artista da saudade e do sofrer!

Extranho livro aquele em que puzéste

Tudo o que eu sinto, sem poder dizer!

Leio-o e folhêio, assim, toda a minh'alma!

O livro que me déste é meu e psalma

As orações que choro e rio e canto!...

Poeta egual a mim, ai quem me déra

Dizer o que tu dizes!... Quem soubéra

Velar a minha Dôr desse teu manto!...

Florbela Espanca

For Our Lady of the Rocks

by Leonardo Da Vinci

Mother, is this the darkness of the end,
The Shadow of Death? and is that outer sea
Infinite imminent Eternity?
And does the death-pang by man's seed sustained
In Time's each instant cause thy face to bend
Its silent prayer upon the Son, while He
Blesses the dead with His hand silently
To His long day which hours no more offend?

Mother of grace, the pass is difficult,
Keen are these rocks, and the bewildered souls
Throng it like echoes, blindly shuddering through.
Thy name, O Lord, each spirit's voice extols,
Whose peace abides in the dark avenue
Amid the bitterness of things occult.

by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

IMAGES
BOOK COVER: "BLOODLINE OF THE HOLY GRAIL"

OUR LADY OF THE ROCKS: LEONARDO DAVINCI

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-16T10:28:00.000+10:00

JOY

The dualities of JOY

JOY; The feeling of happiness, extreme cheerfulness.

ALEGRIA ;s.f, contentamento; regozijo; satisfação;
prazer; festa divertimento; júbilo; jovialidade;
acontecimento feliz.

IN:
Albanian: gaz m
Catalan: alegria f, joia f
Croatian: radost f
Finnish: ilo, riemu
French: joie f
German: Freude f
Hebrew: שמחה (simkhá) f.
Hungarian: öröm
Icelandic: gleði f.
Italian: gioia f.
Old English: wynn f, drēam m, ġefēa m
Slovene: radost f
Turkish: haz

Joy and Sorrow

Then a woman said, 'Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow.'
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, 'Joy is greater than sorrow,' and others say, 'Nay, sorrow is the greater.'
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.
Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.
Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.
When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

Kahlil Gibran

Alegrial Alegrial

Alegria, bela centelha dos deuses,
filha do Eliseu,
ardentes de ebriedade penetramos
no teu santuário, Ó celestial!
Os teus encantos voltam a unir
o que o rigor da moda desuniu;
todos os homens ficam irmãos,
lá onde a tua doce asa plana.

Quem teve a fortuna de encontrar
num amigo um amigo,
quem conquistou uma nobre esposa,
venha juntar o seu contentamento ao nosso!
Sim!, quem pode chamar sua
a uma alma sobre a Terral
Mas a quem nunca isso foi dado,
que se afaste, chorando, do nosso grupo!

Todos os seres bebem a alegria
dos peitos da Natureza,
bons e maus,
seguem todos o seu rasto de rosas.
Deu-nos ela os beijos e a vinha,
um amigo fiel até morte;
ao verme foi dada a volúpia,
e o Querubim está plantado diante de Deus.

Alegres! Alegres!

Alegres, como os sóis que voam
pela planície esplêndida do céu,
fazei, irmãos, a vossa caminhada,
jubilosos como um herói que corre para a vitória!

Abraçai-vos, milhões de seres!
Este beijo ao mundo inteiro!
acima da abóbada estrelada
necessário é que habite um bom pai.

Prosternai-vos, milhões de seres?
Mundo, pressentes tu o Criador?
Busca para lá da abóbada estrelada
Para além das estrelas deve ele morar.

Friederich Schiller

SOUND
Ode to joy
BEETHOVAN

IMAGES
Claude Theberge
Malou

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-15T07:53:00.000+10:00

PIONEERS

The Diary of Anais Nin

What I like best about myself ..is my audacity,

my courage. The ways I have found to be true to

myself without causing too much pain or damage..

What I hate so much is my vanity, my need to shine,

my need of applause and my sentimentality. I would

like to be harder. I cannot make a joke, make fun

of anyone, without feeling regrets.

The diary was once a disease. I do not take it up

now for the same reasons. Before it was because

I was lonely , or because I did not know how to

communicate with others. I needed the communion.

Now it is to write , not for solace but for the pleasure

of describing others, out of abundance.

I have not been unaware of the political drama

going on, but I have not taken any sides because

politics to me, all of them seem rotten to the core

and all based on economics , not humanitarianism.

The suffering of the word seemed to me without

remedy except by what we could give individually.

I did not trust any movement or system...

...nothing changes the nature of man. I know too

well that man can only change himself psychologically,

and that fear and greed make him inhuman, and it

is only a change of roles we attain with each revolution,

just a change of men in power, that is all, the evil remains.
The personal life deeply lived always expands into truths beyond itself.

Anais Nin
Volume Two

(1934-1939)

O erotismo é uma das bases do conhecimento de nós próprios,

tão indispensável como a poesia.

Anais Nin

IMAGES

ANAIS NIN

Unidentified artists

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-14T08:29:00.000+10:00

WEARING RED

Amanhã vou comprar umas calças vermelhas

Amanhã vou comprar umas calças vermelhas
porque não tenho rigorosamente nada a perder:
contei, um a um, todos os degraus
sei quantas voltas dei à chave,
sublinhei as frases importantes,
aparei os cedros,
fechei em código toda a escrita.

Amanhã comprarei calças vermelhas
fixarei o calendário agrícola
afiarei as facas
ensaiarei um número
abrirei o livro na mesma página
descobrirei alguma pista.

Ana Paula Inácio

Mary Wore a Red Dress

Mary wore a red dress,

red dress, red dress,

Mary wore red dress all day long.

Mary wore a red hat, red hat, red hat,

Mary wore a red hat all day long.

Mary wore her red shoes, red shoes, red shoes,

Mary wore red shoes all day long.

Mary wore her red gloves, red gloves, red gloves,

Mary wore her red gloves all day long.

Mary was a red bird, red bird, red bird,

Mary was a red bird all day long

Child's rhyme

SOUND

Tom Waits

Red Shoes

IMAGES
Howard sokol
Unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-13T20:25:00.000+10:00

QUOTES

O passaro nao canta porque tem uma resposta
Canta porque tem uma cancao

-Maya Angelo

IMAGE

unidentified artist

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-12T11:03:00.000+10:00

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

Laughter

I Laugh at Life: its antics make for me a giddy games,
Where only foolish fellows take themselves with solemn aim.
I laugh at pomp and vanity, at riches, rank and pride;
At social inanity, at swager, swank and side.
At poets, pastry-cooks and kings, at folk sublime and small,
Who fuss about a thousand things that matter not at all;
At those who dream of name and fame, at those who scheme for pelf. . . .
But best of all the laughing game—is laughing at myself.

Some poet chap had labelled man the noblest work of God:
I see myself a charlatan, a humbug and a fraud.
Yea, ’spite of show and shallow wit, an sentimental drool,
I know myself a hypocrite, a coward and a fool.
And though I kick myself with glee profoundly on the pants,
I’m little worse, it seems to me, than other human ants.
For if you probe your private mind, impervious to shame,
Oh, Gentle Reader, you may find you’re much about the same.

Then let us mock with ancient mirth this comic, cosmic plan;
The stars are laughing at the earth; God’s greatest joke is man.
For laughter is a buckler bright, and scorn a shining spear;
So let us laugh with all our might at folly, fraud and fear.
Yet on our sorry selves be spent our most sardonic glee.
Oh don’t pay life a compliment to take is seriously.
For he who can himself despise, be surgeon to the bone,
May win to worth in others’ eyes, to wisdom in his own.

Robert Service

Soneto

Arda de raiva contra mim a intriga,
Morra de dor a inveja insaciável;
Destile seu veneno detestável
A vil calúnia, pérfida inimiga.
Una-se todo, em traiçoeira liga,
Contra mim só, o mundo miserável.
Alimente por mim ódio entranhável
O coração da terra que me abriga.

Sei rir-me da vaidade dos humanos;
Sei desprezar um nome não preciso;
Sei insultar uns cálculos insanos.

Durmo feliz sobre o suave riso
De uns lábios de mulher gentis, ufanos;
E o mais que os homens são, desprezo e piso.

Junqueira Freire

IMAGES
Olivier follmi
Unidentified author

This is just one of my favorite things

2006-05-11T10:30:00.000+10:00

REDESCOBRIR O SOM DO BRASIL

AS MULHERES OCAS

NÓS SOMOS as inorgânicas

Frias estátuas de talco

Com hálito de champanhe

E pernas de salto alto

Nossa pele fluorescente

É doce e refrigerada

E em nossa conversa ausente

Tudo não quer dizer nada.

Nós somos as longilíneas

Lentas madonas de boate

Iluminamos as pistas

Com os nossos rostos de opala.

Vamos em câmara lenta

Sem sorrir demasiado

E olharnos como sem ver

Com nossos olhos cromados.

Nós somos as sonolentas

Monjas do tédio inconsútil

Em nosso escuro convento

A ordem mandia ser fútil

Fomos alunas bilíngues

De <> e <>

Mas adorar, só adoramos

A imagem do deus Mamon.

Nós somos as esotéricas

Filhas do Ouro com a Miséria o gênio nos enfastia

E a estupidez nos diverte.

Amamos a vida fria

E tudo o que nos espelha

Na ascéptica companhia

Do nosso machos-de-abelha.

Nós somos as bailarinas

Pressagas do cataclismo

Dançando a dança da moda

Na corda bamba do abismo

Mas nada nos incomoda

De vez que ha sempre quem paga o luxo de entrar na roda

Em Arpels ou Balenciaga.

Nós somos as granfunestas

As onézimas letais

Dormimos a nossa sesta

Em ataúdes de cristal

E só tiramos do rosto

Nossa máscara de cal

Para o drinque do sol posto

Com o cronista social.

Vinicius de Moraes

To——
Oh! well I know your subtle Sex,
Frail daughters of the wanton Eve,—
While jealous pangs our Souls perplex,
No passion prompts you to relieve.

From Love, or Pity ne’er you fall,
By you, no mutual Flame is felt,
“Tis Vanity, which rules you all,
Desire alone which makes you melt.

I will not say no souls are yours,
Aye, ye have Souls, and dark ones too,
Souls to contrive those smiling lures,
To snare our simple hearts for you.

Yet shall you never bind me fast,
Long to adore such brittle toys,
I’ll rove along, from first to last,
And change whene’er my fancy cloys.

Oh! I should be a baby fool,
To sigh the dupe of female art—
Woman! perhaps thou hast a Soul,
But where have Demons hid thy Heart?

George Gordon Lord Byron

SOUND
Garota de Ipanema
Gal Costa, Tom Jobim

IMAGES
Unidentified author
Unidentified author