November 21st, 2007

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Good Morning!!

Happy Thanksgiving Eve!!

I was up late baking pies and already have a pie in the oven for this morning.  I realize how much I enjoy baking pies and because of the calories, it can't be a daily thing, unless I work for a bakery, I suppose, and that is hardly the same.  I like making one pie at a time, no assembly line for me.

Enjoy today, and remember:

    Joy is the feeling of grinning inside.

                - Dr. Melba Colgrove

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Poem by Mary Oliver -


    by Mary Oliver

What is the vitality and necessity
       of clean water?

Ask the man who is ill, and who is lifting
       his lips to the cup.

Ask the forest.

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Morning Musings -

Morning Musings on Thanksgiving Eve, 2007


My Journey, I say,

my journey to becoming a community,

an individual, and back and forth I go,

as the path widens and narrows,

with room for many,

and space

just for myself.  


Maureen Dowd’s column is nasty on Hillary today,

affirming she hasn’t gotten anywhere on her own.


Is that so?

She has been senator of New York.

The goal of presidency has been hers,

since she and Bill first held hands and ambition. 


Does she care about the job?

Does she know what she desires

as she starches her ironed face

each morning for the day.


I look for softness

and see anger and pain.


I don’t have the need to lead,

the hubris, perhaps, to say I know what is right for you,

and so, I swim like a swan on a lake

and when I look down

I see sky and clouds

at play,

with rocks and fish.   


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Jane's poem for this morning -

The crux

The place where paths cross
or where skin meets skin
and the friction
either makes a spark
or softens each until they melt into each other
is what the body does
and is different from what the seer takes
no negotiation of the edge
bright judgment
is not.


     - Jane Flint

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Evening -

The moon is shining brightly, as are the stars,  and it is cold outside.   We all gather tomorrow to feast.

It is such a blessing, a day to give Thanks.   What could be more wonderfully blessed than that.

Gratitude.   Thanks!

Here is another poem  by Mary Oliver


Nor anything,
not the eastern wind whose other name
    is rain,
nor the burning heat of the dunes
    at the crown of summer,
nor the ticks, that new, ferocious populace,

not the president who loves blood,
nor the governmental agencies that love money,

will alter

my love for you, my friends and my beloved,
or for you, oh ghosts of Emerson and Whitman,

or for you, oh blue sky of a summer morning,
that makes me roll in a barrel of gratitude
    down hills,

or for you, oldest of friends:   hope;
or for you,  newest of friends:  faith;

or for you, silliest and dearest of surprises, my
own life. 

    - Mary Oliver