Takeaway:
Stepping into
This
Unknown
(Saskia’s words during round-circle)
Saturday, October 15, 2016
Friday, October 14, 2016
ok, its autumn
Exactly 1500.0 miles on trip odometer as we pull into dooryard.
Now, back in maine.
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| monastery, ns |
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| monastery ns |
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| approaching woodstock nb |
Thursday, October 13, 2016
finally, good news
BREAKING NEWS
Lyrics
You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out the saints are comin' through
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out the saints are comin' through
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
This sky, too, is folding under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home
Your empty handed armies, are all going home
Your lover who just walked out the door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Your empty handed armies, are all going home
Your lover who just walked out the door
Has taken all his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start a new
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start a new
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
Songwriters: Bob Dylan
It's All Over Now, Baby Blue lyrics © Bob Dylan Music Co.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Tuesday, October 11, 2016
fiddle player
Nice to hear Colin Grant back to Celtic Colors at Dorymen Pub in Cheticamp live streaming tonight.
His playing has something to it.
His playing has something to it.
Monday, October 10, 2016
hunting debate
Concerning the debate Sunday night: What a shame-ing!
Trump, for the good of the country, (a reasonable person might say), must lose.
But not before he tries to destroy and shame this woman who dares to make him
a loser.
It is a sorry spectacle.
We feel ashamed watching the hunt.
Trump, for the good of the country, (a reasonable person might say), must lose.
But not before he tries to destroy and shame this woman who dares to make him
a loser.
It is a sorry spectacle.
We feel ashamed watching the hunt.
not the opposite
Enough about politics.
It is about suffering.
How everyone suffers.
And no one really knows how to diminish, much less eliminate, suffering in their own life or the larger world.
Visiting St Peters' church in Ingonesh after hike on Middle Head for two hours, we sat in silent emptiness.
Like Thay's meditation bell's sudden sounding, we stop to breathe and allow the presence of what is itself-present to visit the passing presence of our sitting in silence during and beyond.
Grave markers and large cross in cemetery with backdrop of North Atlantic expounded our participation in the unfolding folding-in of an existence not yet complete not yet seen not yet spoken nor heard clearly.
So we listen.
So we clear our throats to open our mouths to breathe the silence needed to discern what listening to the sound of what is being said reveals about bodies belonging where words are.
Not the opposite.
It is about suffering.
How everyone suffers.
And no one really knows how to diminish, much less eliminate, suffering in their own life or the larger world.
Visiting St Peters' church in Ingonesh after hike on Middle Head for two hours, we sat in silent emptiness.
Like Thay's meditation bell's sudden sounding, we stop to breathe and allow the presence of what is itself-present to visit the passing presence of our sitting in silence during and beyond.
Grave markers and large cross in cemetery with backdrop of North Atlantic expounded our participation in the unfolding folding-in of an existence not yet complete not yet seen not yet spoken nor heard clearly.
So we listen.
So we clear our throats to open our mouths to breathe the silence needed to discern what listening to the sound of what is being said reveals about bodies belonging where words are.
Not the opposite.
Sunday, October 09, 2016
eh? yeah, eh!
These two, Mr Trump and Mrs Clinton, are the choices for US presidency.
Glad to be in Canada tonight.
Glad to be in Canada tonight.
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