Once Again The Things That Inspire…

Come from my beloved. A few days before Thanksgiving he posted:


…likes. The fact is, sometimes we just click “like.” It does not actually mean we ‘like.’ It does not mean we actually have read. Still, it does mean something. We do this. We perform this action for each other–fellow bloggers. We do this, in part, because we hope that our blogger friends–as well, we hope that we–through the long chain of bloggers connected to other bloggers, will be connected with those who will appreciate their special brand of comment or insight.

Regardless of our art or position or our views on anything in particular, we seem to care for one another in our quest to be heard by those who would appreciate our work, or comments, or views. At least at this low level of notice, none of us seem to be concerned with whether or not we understand to relate to a message. We seem all to be friends regardless. On this day, which is a day of thanks in the United States, it seems appropriate.

Posted by David Emeron on November 22, 2012 

I am very thankful for David, my large and nerdy/scientific/artistic/musical/didIgetallofthat?!?,  household; and for the web of artistic and friendly support of these friends all over the world who loosely network with each other. I wouldn’t be writing on this blog without a couple of years training with TehSqueakyWheel and my dear friends over there who taught me to speak again and how to help run a website.I learned a world of courage from these people and they had no idea for the longest time that they were teaching me anything beyond website maintenance.  Web friends changed my life forever.

I am particularly interested in the phenomena of free association of people and what our resident mathematician tells me is emergent behavior.  I love watching this example of it working, it has great beauty.  David pins it down beautifully in his blog post about how We help each other with… “likes”.

“Shared pain is lessened; shared joy, increased — thus do we refute entropy.”

– Callahan’s Law

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Every Day Is Thanksgiving Day Around Here…

…although meals are usually simpler.  This afternoon my David is brining the turkey for tomorrow’s feast and the roommate’s dog is trying to help.  The dog is a boxer mix so he thinks being underfoot is helping.  He’s poetry in action – just ask him!

David is a wonderful cook.  I taught him to bake bread in my mother’s kitchen when we were children and he has far surpassed me in the culinary arts since.  I couldn’t be happier!  He and the roommies have big plans for the dinner tomorrow.  My task is to rest, comment, and provide music.  (Sadly, we don’t have any friends visiting for the holiday so no fiddlers-in-the-kitchen this year.)  I am without a settled mood today and don’t know what I really feel like hearing.  I guess I’ll start with tradition and play Silly Wizard.  That is what our daughter would have insisted on before she married and set up her own household.  Silly Wizard for cooking with Planxty afterward.   It still feels odd to not be working alongside David in the kitchen before a holiday but I can fill the house with music and candles – atmosphere – while he works.  That was always my forte anyway.  The special part that only I knew how to bring together at the end.  Anyway, no one but I know where the good linens are stored…bwahahaaaaa……
Tomorrow will be the easy choice for music,  David will play piano.  I never get enough of that.

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I Awakened To A Wonderful Gift!

Lady Day left this exquisite piece in my comment section.  It deserves a post and I am proud to give it one here.  Such kindness should never be taken lightly and I can assure you I haven’t.  The more I read this the more it touches me; and, if permission is granted by the author, I am going to ask my artist daughter make a copy of it to hang so I can see it every day. The Lady author shows a great talent for insight.

I don’t know what the conventions are for posting poetry but please remember that the piece posted here is sure to be copyrighted.

Such a love as this…
That floats above life
The trials
The jagged blades of knife…
Does touch…
so very deep, the soul.
That together
You’ve been made perfectly,

-Lady Day

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I Stand In Awe…

I stand in awe…

Once again my beloved has taken my simple words and used them to make a beautiful sonnet.  We often sit and talk of how my childhood saturation in the humanities spurred him to study poetry to understand my world. Now the shoe is on the other neuron and my illness has affected my brain to the extent that, while I appreciate his poetry, I am unable to critically address his work and discuss the various delights of rhyme scheme and sonnet form. This grieves me terribly. This  would be a much worse burden but for the modern wonder of the internet where he has people from all over the world to share the nuts and bolts of poetry creation with. From a copper merchant traveling the world to a physicist in Sweden, there are people finding time to make poetry and share it with each other. This eases my soul – for somehow I can’t help but feel a touch of sorrow and a hint of guilt that I am unable keep up.

On the other hand, I do get away with having Mad Punctuation Disease so I get to use punctuation in any ol’ way I want and no one can say anything. Hah@!!
I also don’t have to do dishes when I’m tired.

David Emeron: Sonnets

By any song, in night, that dost thou sing,
If with thy lips shalt sing, my dearest one;
Or make to sing my soul, thy touch doth bring;
Or strong thine arms surroundeth, sing my heart.

And when doth sing thy smile, to heal, to rest;
And sing to fret the tyme away, undone
By song; yet still the finer am I blest
By music, by thy words, and by thine art.

But only thus, thy song shouldst bid me sleep–
Thy song, my shelter, sweep away the sun,
I beg of thee thy promised song, and weep
That shouldst thou hold mee fast, and ne’r us part

Until thy quiet fight–when hast thou won–
Requite the day, that thou expressed:  Depart!

This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:


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Oh, look!! I stole the original that the sonnet below was made from…

Ok, that title made sense in my head.

In the blog portion of One Sonnet Each Day, David writes about the evolution of the sonnet that I blogged about before. The first iteration of the piece was written sometime in the last century and it is beautiful. Here it is:

Earthbound are my feet, although
they strive for starfields;
climb as they will a

staircase of air, the Earth
is all that they may
touch. But oh! how my

mind may soar! It takes
my feet where they may go
but not where it may fly.

An Island of dirt is all
they know. All they will
ever know.

But dirt may be kind and
beautiful, and may be built
upon and danced upon and

someday, may become a
a chariot, and take me to the

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I was on my favorite sonnet site and my comment about this beautiful piece became so long and personal it verged on literal blognapping so I brought it all back over here. It’s a wonderful sonnet.

To Earth are bound my feet, though still they strive
For starfields, climbing to complete, on high,
A staircase wrought of air, while wond’ring why
This heartless Earth’s, unfair. So I contrive
To sing of more; a tale of how alive
My mind may soar! That takes my feet where sky
May go. But not where they may someday fly.
Although such possibilities arrive,

This island’s all the ether they may know.
And Earth may fall, though lush and beautiful
And built upon in ways of which I’m fond.

Yet when, foregone, the Earth, they may outgrow–
They’ll make a chariot that, dutiful,
Will show my children’s children the beyond.
-David Emeron 2012

One Sonnet Each Day

I’ve been thinking all day about what comment to leave for you about this piece. It is such an emotional subject…remembering how we mused as children on how we would be able to “escape the bonds of earth” as adults — and how common the ability to know the universe was going to be when we were grown. We grew up with the Space Program and nourished our souls by reading lots of Heinlein and Asimov. I was sure that by the time I could no longer dance here on earth I would dance in the stars. Spider Robinson said so.

To see you write about this and know that as an adult you are able to carry our dreams to our children and beyond with your exquisite words is a gift to all of us who spent the long nights sneaking out of the house to talk about science and a future in space. We were a small, loose group of friends but we had such big plans. We were so sure of where science would take us. Farther, higher, and most importantly….with joy.

Because of the internet and blogging I now know that there were lots of groups of friends just like us.

While some gathered to smoke pot and plan revolution…

we were gathering to plan spaceships and hydroponics and new materials, and to solve the world’s problems by using science to enable plenty for all and empowering people to develop according to the needs of their own peoples and countries.

I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for writing this piece. It is beautiful and it moves me, not just as a sonnet but as a reminder — and as hope for the future.

I love you.

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It’s Complexicated!

This guy summed up my experiences in two beautifully crafted sentences.

You can actually go back through the blog, and even I bring them up and soon forget they ever existed. I FORGOT THERE WERE LESIONS. ON. MY. BRAIN.

I laughed until I cried — and not sad tears, either. This happens to me so often. I will turn to my beloved and say…why can’t I understand this wassname-thingie? I’ve become stupid! He’ll say, “you have MS and you’re tired. It’ll be better after you’ve slept a while.”
Sleep as a cure for stupid? Ok. buh.
But it works. Helps plaster over the stupid…
it’s just lesions in my brain.

I’m going to go to sleep now so I can wake up refreshed to read more at It’s Complexicated! http://diagnosismia.blogspot.com/
Thanks for sending me over there, Ocsy


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