sure dear sister sure

I love you too!

John Q. Hejduk: The Wall House #2

 

Cafe "CX 32 Radiomundo"

 

The Unruly Winds favorite Radio & Coffee Station Stop

  Daniel, Ricardo & Mono 

Thank You

Primer Museo Viviente de la Radio y las Comunicaciones del Uruguay "Gral. Artigas"

Antonio Tormo

 Thank you

At the Bauhaus with all The Masters, Mondrian & Kuroda

 

Masters

Without Borders

Beyond Time

THANK YOU

Unspoken Strategy

 

At the Cafe Aubette with Theo

 

Long Overdue

Because it's never too late

Et voila! :)

The Day Gringolet Stole The Stage

 

indeed now...

i who am DUST & ASHES

have taken it upon myself

to speak to the LORD...

"suppose just two should be found there...?"

Genesis 18 (June 7th)

Friends Talk

 

Spinetta

 

Conversations with my Father

 

His Kingdom

Concrete, my favorite ink

 

El Lapicito de Dios

Hawthorne's Thanksgiving Day

. . .

    This is Thanksgiving Day--a good old festival; and my wife and I have kept it with our hearts, and besides have made good cheer upon our turkey, and pudding, and pies, and custards, although none sat at our board but our two selves. There was a new and livelier sense, I think, that we have at least found a home, and that a new family has been gathered since the last Thanksgiving Day.

  There have been many bright, cold days, latterly--so cold that it has required a pretty rapid pace to keep the warm in walking. Day before yesterday, I saw a party of boys skating on a pond of water that has overflowed a neighboring meadow. Running water has not yet frozen. Vegetation has quite come to a stand, except in a few sheltered spots. In a deep ditch, my wife and I found a tall plant of the freshest and healthiest green, which looked as is if it must have grown within the last few weeks. We wander among the wood-paths, which are very pleasant in the sunshine of the afternoons--the trees looking rich and warm, such of them, I mean, as have retained their russet leaves, and where the leaves are strewn along the paths, or heaped plentifully into some hollow of the hills, the effect is not without a charm. To-day, the morning rose with rain, which has since changed to snow and sleet; and now the landscape is a dreary as can well be imagined--white, with the brownness of the soil and withered grass everywhere peeping out. The swollen river, of a leaden hue, drags itself sullenly along; and this may be termed the first winter's day.

     

 

From Great Writings by Nathaniel Hawthorne

L. James Morgan Jr (Compiler)

The World Around Us

Published 1971 by Hallmark Editions

Hawthorne in Salem

Rumi

The real work belongs to someone who desires God

and has severed himself from any other work.

The rest are like children who play together until it gets dark

for these few short days.

Or like someone who awakes and springs up, still drowsy,

and then is lulled back to sleep

by the suggestion of an evil nurse:

"Go to sleep, my darling, I won't let anyone disturb you."

Andres Jorge Gebhardt & Trenes Argentinos: "Poema Rodante"

 

Hugo Baracchini: Historia de las Comunicaciones en el Uruguay

 

Arq. Hugo Baracchini "Historia de las Comunicaciones en el Uruguay"

Facultad de Arquitectura, Montevideo - Uruguay  Instituto de Historia IH

Anáforas  Facultad de Informacion y Comunicacion - Uruguay

Poets of the Fall: "Choir of Cicadas"

It's the season of dust trailing old pick up trucks

Seashells washed ashore down by the docks

So baby pull on your blue jeans turn the radio loud

Don't wait for the hour to give birth to doubt.

In the peak harvest of snakebites and wasted hindsight

When trivial truths sit next to the taillights

When fenders of chrome they rattle and hum

All carved in the shape of freedom

...

So I'll be your lover now, brazen & bright

Like the flare of a match you struck in the night

Though what does a stray know 'bout holy & true

But I'll always come to your rescue.

Oh Lord won't you hear your children cry

Singing their praise & their hallelujahs

I have no more words to describe

An empty sky of hollow blue, yeah

So where is my lover, my firelight

The line on the edge of truth & rumour

We took our vows in the heart of the night

We were brazen & bright, when we were brazen & bright

Poets of the Fall 

Emily, clover & bees

 

Belongings [Love Song]

 

my belongings...

Jesus' Tears

His Broken Heart

Tribute

 

Oh my soul do not be greedy for heavenly songs.

Kahlil Gibran

Divino Designio

 

Divine Teaching

Bosch's

Christ Being Mocked 

The National Gallery

Charles Belle & Francois Royet: "Confiés à la Forêt"

Confiés à la Forêt

Charles Belle 

Francois Royet

Mies Van Der Rohe: Building Words, Building Materials, Building Humanity

Reflections

Mies Van Der Rohe and Lilly Reich

The Barcelona Pavilion, Spain 1929

Video by Arq. Fernando Ayuso

Danke Herr Professor ✏️📐  :)

Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr: "The Height of The Ridiculous"

 

Don Quixote

Ladran Sancho, señal que cabalgamos.

"Tfilat Tal" - The Blessing of Dew - The Jewish Prayer

 

To King Richard I of England, Thank You! God bless you.

May dew fall upon the blessed land.

Fill us with heaven's finest blessings.

May a light come out of the darkness to draw Israel

to You as a root finds water from dew.

May you bless our food with dew.

May we enjoy plenty with nothing lacking.

Grant the wish of the people - that followed You

through the desert like sheep - with dew.

You are Adonai our God,

who causes the wind to blow and the dew to fall.

For blessing and not for course.

Amen.

For life and not for death.

Amen.

For plenty and not for lack.

Amen.

One For Israel: The Blessing of Dew

Anne Loève : "L' Arbre à Palabres"

 

Dante: Paradiso, Canto I

 

La gloria di colui che tutto move
per l’universo penetra, e risplende
in una parte più e meno altrove.

Nel ciel che più de la sua luce prende
fu’ io, e vidi cose che ridire
né sa né può chi di là sù discende;

perché appressando sé al suo disire,
nostro intelletto si profonda tanto,
che dietro la memoria non può ire.

Veramente quant’ io del regno santo
ne la mia mente potei far tesoro,
sarà ora materia del mio canto.

O buono Appollo, a l’ultimo lavoro
fammi del tuo valor sì fatto vaso,
come dimandi a dar l’amato alloro.

Infino a qui l’un giogo di Parnaso
assai mi fu; ma or con amendue
m’è uopo intrar ne l’aringo rimaso.

Entra nel petto mio, e spira tue
sì come quando Marsïa traesti
de la vagina de le membra sue.

O divina virtù, se mi ti presti
tanto che l’ombra del beato regno
segnata nel mio capo io manifesti,

vedra’mi al piè del tuo diletto legno
venire, e coronarmi de le foglie
che la materia e tu mi farai degno.

Sì rade volte, padre, se ne coglie
per trïunfare o cesare o poeta,
colpa e vergogna de l’umane voglie,

che parturir letizia in su la lieta
delfica deïtà dovria la fronda
peneia, quando alcun di sé asseta.

Poca favilla gran fiamma seconda:
forse di retro a me con miglior voci
si pregherà perché Cirra risponda.

Surge ai mortali per diverse foci
la lucerna del mondo; ma da quella
che quattro cerchi giugne con tre croci,

con miglior corso e con migliore stella
esce congiunta, e la mondana cera
più a suo modo tempera e suggella.

Fatto avea di là mane e di qua sera
tal foce, e quasi tutto era là bianco
quello emisperio, e l’altra parte nera,

quando Beatrice in sul sinistro fianco
vidi rivolta e riguardar nel sole:
aguglia sì non li s’affisse unquanco.

E sì come secondo raggio suole
uscir del primo e risalire in suso,
pur come pelegrin che tornar vuole,

così de l’atto suo, per li occhi infuso
ne l’imagine mia, il mio si fece,
e fissi li occhi al sole oltre nostr’ uso.

Molto è licito là, che qui non lece
a le nostre virtù, mercé del loco
fatto per proprio de l’umana spece.

Io nol soffersi molto, né sì poco,
ch’io nol vedessi sfavillar dintorno,
com’ ferro che bogliente esce del foco;

e di sùbito parve giorno a giorno
essere aggiunto, come quei che puote
avesse il ciel d’un altro sole addorno.

Beatrice tutta ne l’etterne rote
fissa con li occhi stava; e io in lei
le luci fissi, di là sù rimote.

Nel suo aspetto tal dentro mi fei,
qual si fé Glauco nel gustar de l’erba
che ’l fé consorto in mar de li altri dèi.

Trasumanar significar per verba
non si poria; però l’essemplo basti
a cui esperïenza grazia serba.

S’i’ era sol di me quel che creasti
novellamente, amor che ’l ciel governi,
tu ’l sai, che col tuo lume mi levasti.

Quando la rota che tu sempiterni
desiderato, a sé mi fece atteso
con l’armonia che temperi e discerni,

parvemi tanto allor del cielo acceso
de la fiamma del sol, che pioggia o fiume
lago non fece alcun tanto disteso.

La novità del suono e ’l grande lume
di lor cagion m’accesero un disio
mai non sentito di cotanto acume.

Ond’ ella, che vedea me sì com’ io,
a quïetarmi l’animo commosso,
pria ch’io a dimandar, la bocca aprio

e cominciò: «Tu stesso ti fai grosso
col falso imaginar, sì che non vedi
ciò che vedresti se l’avessi scosso.

Tu non se’ in terra, sì come tu credi;
ma folgore, fuggendo il proprio sito,
non corse come tu ch’ad esso riedi».

S’io fui del primo dubbio disvestito
per le sorrise parolette brevi,
dentro ad un nuovo più fu’ inretito

e dissi: «Già contento requïevi
di grande ammirazion; ma ora ammiro
com’ io trascenda questi corpi levi».

Ond’ ella, appresso d’un pïo sospiro,
li occhi drizzò ver’ me con quel sembiante
che madre fa sovra figlio deliro,

e cominciò: «Le cose tutte quante
hanno ordine tra loro, e questo è forma
che l’universo a Dio fa simigliante.

Qui veggion l’alte creature l’orma
de l’etterno valore, il qual è fine
al quale è fatta la toccata norma.

Ne l’ordine ch’io dico sono accline
tutte nature, per diverse sorti,
più al principio loro e men vicine;

onde si muovono a diversi porti
per lo gran mar de l’essere, e ciascuna
con istinto a lei dato che la porti.

Questi ne porta il foco inver’ la luna;
questi ne’ cor mortali è permotore;
questi la terra in sé stringe e aduna;

né pur le creature che son fore
d’intelligenza quest’ arco saetta,
ma quelle c’hanno intelletto e amore.

La provedenza, che cotanto assetta,
del suo lume fa ’l ciel sempre quïeto
nel qual si volge quel c’ha maggior fretta;

e ora lì, come a sito decreto,
cen porta la virtù di quella corda
che ciò che scocca drizza in segno lieto.

Vero è che, come forma non s’accorda
molte fïate a l’intenzion de l’arte,
perch’ a risponder la materia è sorda,

così da questo corso si diparte
talor la creatura, c’ha podere
di piegar, così pinta, in altra parte;

e sì come veder si può cadere
foco di nube, sì l’impeto primo
l’atterra torto da falso piacere.

Non dei più ammirar, se bene stimo,
lo tuo salir, se non come d’un rivo
se d’alto monte scende giuso ad imo.

Maraviglia sarebbe in te se, privo
d’impedimento, giù ti fossi assiso,
com’ a terra quïete in foco vivo».

Quinci rivolse inver’ lo cielo il viso.

THE PROJECT GUTENBERG

The Living Flame

Gracious Words

Gracious words are a honeycomb. Sweet to the soul and healing to the bones. 

Proverbs 16:24

Daniel Nepveux: "Original Sin"

 

Abraham & The Most Holy Trinity

So he lifted his eyes and looked

and  behold

three men were standing by him;

and  when he saw them

he ran from the tent door to meet them,

and  bowed himself to the ground.

And said, "My Lord, if I have now 

found favor in Your sight,

do not pass on by Your servant...

"Please let a little water be brought

and  wash your feet

and  rest yourselves under the tree.

"And  I will bring a morsel of bread

that you may refresh your hearts.

After that You may pass by

inasmuch as You have come to Your servant."

They said, "Do as you have said."

Tudo Joia Com Meus Irmãos Deusmar, Ailton e você

Dave Shaw: "A Bluebell Forest Walk"

 

Poem on Film format

John Bunyan, R. Vaughan Williams & The Holy Childhood Schola Cantorum

"The Pilgrim's Progress" by John Bunyan (gutenberg.org)

Daniel Nepveux: "Winter Rainbows"

 

Sonnet XVIII

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day ?

Thou are more lovely and more temperate ,

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May ,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date :

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines ,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd :

And every fair from fair sometime declines ,

By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade ,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest ;

Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade

When in eternal lines to time thou growest.

   So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see

   So long lives this, and this give life to thee.

Sonnet LXXXIII

 I never saw that you did painting need,

And therefore to your fair no painting set;

I found (or thought I found) you did exceed

The barren tender of a poet's debt;

And therefore have I slept in your report,

That you yourself, being extant, well might show

How far a modern quill doth come to short, 

Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.

This silence for my sin you did impute,

Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;

For I impair not beauty, being mute,

When others would give life, and bring a tomb.

     

        There lives more life in one of you fair eyes

        Than both your poets can in praise devise.

The Portable SHAKESPEARE

William Wadsworth: "Upon Westminster Bridge"

                                                    Sept. 3, 1802

Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty:

This City now doth like a garment wear

The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,

Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie

Open unto the fields, and to the sky,

All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.

Never did the sun more beautifully steep

In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!

The river glideth at his own sweet will:

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;

And all that mighty heart is lying still!

 

Classic fM " One Hundred Favourite Poems"

Hodder & Stoughton, 2000

Emily Dickinson: "I Died for Beauty"

I died for Beauty, but was scarce

adjusted in the tomb,

when one who died for Truth was lain

in an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?

"For Beauty", I replied.

"And I for Truth, - the two are one;

we brethren are", he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,

we talked between the rooms,

until the moss has reached our lips,

and covered up our names.

E.B. : "A Threnodia"

A stone more than the Ebenezer famed:

Stone, splendent diamond, right orient named;

A cordial stone, that often cheered hearts

With pleasant wit, with Gospel reach imparts;

Whetstone, that edgified the obtusest mind--

Loadstone, that drew the iron heart unkind--

A ponderous stone, that would the bottom sound

Of scripture depths, and bring out arcans found;

A stone for kingly David's use so fit

As would not fail Goliath's front to hit;

A stone, an antidote, that brake the course

Of gangrene error by convincing force;

A stone acute, fit to divide and square;

A squared stone became Christ's building rare.

[... In 1663 Samuel Stone, Hooker's colleague in the Hartford pulpit, died, much loved and lamented. One "E.B." wrote a threnody upon "our church's second dark eclipse" which was later printed in a history of the colonies. "E.B." was probably Edward Bulkeley, son of Peter of Concord, but this is not certain. Whoever wrote it took a leaping the metaphysical wilderness, and wrought upon the name "Stone" as elaborate a conceit as any court wit of the century ever devised.]

THE AMERICAN PURITANS - Their Prose and Poetry

Edited by Perry Miller

Doubleday Anchor Publishers, 1956

Presente mi General!

 

Circe Maia : "Otra Voz Canta"

 

Divine Thought

 

Shakespeare: Sonnet LXXVIII

 

So often I have invok'd thee for my Muse

And found such fair in my verse

As very alien pen hath got my use

And under thee their poesy disperse.

Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to sing

And heavy ignorance aloft to fly,

Have added feathers to the learned's wing

And given grace a double majesty. 

Yet be most proud of that which I compile,

Whose influence is thine, and borne of thee.

In others' work though dost but mend the style,

And arts with thy sweet graces graced be; 

        

        But thou are all my art and dost advance

        As high as learning my rude ignorance.

The Portable SHAKESPEARE

Marco Paolo Pavese: "Martin Pescatore 1985 - 2005"

 

Mr. Copper

 

arms wide open always

music lover

styling of course

together forever

<> Photography

Arturo Pérez-Reverte: "The Seville Communion" (excerpt)

 . . . 

"He looked through the eyepiece. He turned the wheels, and slowly the tube of the telescope moved up and left. "When you look at the sky", he (Father Ferro) said, "things occupy a different place in the universe. Did you know that our little Earth is only a hundred and fifty million kilometers from the Sun, whereas Pluto is almost six billion kilometers away? And that the Sun is a tiny dot compared to an average star like Arcturus? Not to mention Aldebaran, which is thirty-six million kilometers across, or Betelgeuse, which is ten times the size of that."  He moved the telescope to the right.  He pointed out a star to Quart. "Look. That's Altair. At three hundred thousand kilometers per second, its light takes sixteen years to reach us. It might have exploded in the meantime, and we could be seeing light from a star that no longer exists. Sometimes, when I look toward Rome, I feel as if I'm looking at Altair. Are you sure everything will be there when you get back?"

  At Father Ferro's invitation, Quart looked through the eyepiece. As he moved away from the brightness of the moon, between the stars appeared myriad points of light, clusters and nebulae that were red, blue, white, flickering or still. One of them gradually moved and then disappeared in the glare of another - a shooting star or maybe a man-made satellite. Quart looked for the Great Bear following the line through Merak and Dubhe upward, four times the distance, if he remembered correctly.  There was the Pole Star, large, bright, confident.

   "That's Polaris",  said Father Ferro, who had followed the movement of the telescope. "The tip of the Little Bear, which always indicates the Earth's zero latitude. Always but not immutably."  He told Quart to point the telescope to his left. "Five thousand years ago the Egyptians venerated another one, the Dragon, as the guardian of the north. It has a 25,800-year cycle, of which only three thousand have passed. So in another two hundred and twenty-eight centuries the Dragon will be the pole star again." He drummed his fingers on the brass tube. "I wonder if there will be anyone on Earth then to notice."

Arturo Perez-Reverte, "The Seville Communion" 

Translation by Sonia Soto, 

Harcourt Brace & Co. 1998 

Arturo Perez-Reverte, "La Piel del Tambor" 1995,  Ed. Alfaguara

Astronomy Picture of the Day

Salto da Chousa

 

Dawn

 

On The Crocus Prayer

With Christian (over the iphone),

... I know I know... I know exactly what you're thinking... 

"what's up now???"... with your hand on your forehead, the other on your phone, and thinking "O no, here we go again!,  What have I done to deserve this?" :(  -  I know, I know... If you're standing, please sit down and fast your seat belt ... just kidding! Now, only after getting your permission to interrupt for a brief moment whatever you were doing, I'll talk: 

Last night  I couldn't stop thinking..... about the horrific experience of being under the land mower blades........ We agree that she was spared... She could have been shred to pieces... (I like to call it "she")

What you beautifully (difficult to read too) described about the little mermaid "endurings", made me go back to the crocus and spend some more time there. What a story/photograph of love and hope... You can't find a trace of terror on her all giving being... 

From there it was very easy to end up at Slayed Humanity Boulevard... whether by blades or other means, bloody or not exactly, there are a lot of people breathing terror (in all its varieties),  despair and loneliness, all across the world. As I go through my daily duties, your photograph, carefully saved in my heart, masterfully illustrates my prayer for today,

"Slayed Humanity" - (oppressed, killed and the kind), with God's beautiful promise that every trace of terror, horror, wound or hurt will disappear, it will not be possible even to remember any of it. 

One more thing: One of the things I did today was to look for undetected holes in my pocket, I don't want to lose the moon you so kindly and unexpectedly put inside it. I'll never forgive myself if I do that!

Bye now :)

PS:  Christian if I "bug" you with my thoughts/comments/talk/interruptions/unauthorized scriblings on your work/etc ... please - I beg you!!!  let me know. It looks like the system's firewalls are not working properly!

Somewhere at Google+ Square, 2014

From Joseph Pearce's "Summer Theologiae"

Deep in the dark night of the soul

something stirs;

And bleary eyes,

depart from dream's dreary hole

as morning stars

in summer skies.

And ere sun rises

from sleep to slumber

and dawning of dawn, 

alone one rises

in Lazarene lumber

to meet the morn.

And the world sleeps .  .  .

As gloaming fades 

to stray and wander 

in gladdening glades

to pray and ponder;

a voyeur visitor,

impertinent impostor,

inquisitive inquisitor,

mumbling Pater Noster.

In stillness to stare

at solitary hare

that accompanies the prayer.

Does it know?

Is it waiting?

Is it, as I,

anticipating?

It knows,

though what it knows,

it knows not:

distinctive

but instinctive,

and oblivious 

of oblivion.

Subconscious friar

in Franciscan fraternity;

the hare's breath

is the hair's breadth

from here to eternity.

And the world sleeps . . .

And as the hare 

grassward grazes,

without a care

for heavenward gazes,

something stirs . . .

. . .

From "Flowers of Heaven - 1000 Years of Christian Verse", compiled by Joseph Pearce - Hodder & Stoughton 1999

Joseph Pearce

St Austin Review (StAR)

 

From Walt Whitman's "Miracles"

Why, who makes much of a miracle?

As to me I know of nothing else but miracles.

Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,

Or dart my sight over the roof of houses toward the sky,

Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water,

Or stand under trees in the woods,

Or talk by day with anyone I love, or sleep in the bed at night with anyone I love

Or sit at table with the rest,

Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car

Or watch honey bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon,

Or animals feeding in the fields,

Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air,

Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of the stars shining so quiet and bright,

Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring;

These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles

The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place ...

Project Gutenberg - Walt Whitman

The Walt Whitman Archive

George Santayana (1863-1952) : "O World Thou Choosest Not The Better Part"

O world, thou choosest not the better part!

It is not wisdom to be only wise,

And on the inward vision close the eyes,

But it is wisdom to believe the heart.

Columbus found a world, and had no chart,

Save one that faith deciphered in the skies;

To trust the soul's invincible surmise

Was all his science and his only art.

Our knowledge is a torch of smoky pine

That lights the pathway but one step ahead

Across a void of mystery and dread.

Bid, then, the tender light of faith to shine

By which alone the mortal heart is led

Unto the thinking of the thought divine.

Dante

I had risen from flesh to spirit

. . .

 

Emily Dickinson

 

Jeff Lynne

 

The God of Glory Thunders

 Psalm 29

Rose Fyleman

 

Reginald Heber