Recent changes to this wiki:

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+Only having gotten up to 251 dollars with 16 days left yesterday, it would have been humanly possible to launch the Kickstarter with success, but doubt was weighing a heavy stress upon me.  I just got to a point of impatience, where I realized I could not endure the stress anymore.  And I gave into it and took the Kickstarter down.  
+
+I am extremely glad I ran the first 2 weeks of the campaign, because it helped me clarify that I perceive a need for me to write and illustrate a children's book about Hojoki, and that I think the world needs that book more than anything!  Where there is a will, there is a way, and now I know what I want to happen.  
+
+But it is a big disappointment to have had to take it down, and that I could not raise the funds needed for a sure first printing.
+
+If you read this and didn't know I was making the book please comment if you decide you want one.  Or if you are disappointed - fear not, just tell me and I will sell you the finished book - when it is complete.  
+
+Sorry I put you through this and thanks to the many people who did pledge.  

diff --git a/posts/Skinny_Dipping_in_the_Penas_Blancas_River__44___2001.mdwn b/posts/Skinny_Dipping_in_the_Penas_Blancas_River__44___2001.mdwn
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+I am glad we took a picture
+
+in 2001 of the biological reserve casa
+
+where Anna and I had hiked
+
+so far down hill from the Monteverde 
+
+cloud forest reserve
+
+but so many things were not in that picture.
+
+[[!img penas_blancas_valley_costa_rica_painting.JPG align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]
+
+
+When we got to the bottom of the mountain
+
+and found ourselves in the Penas Blancas valley
+
+Anna went to draw some rare plant
+
+and I told her I would be right back
+
+then I skinny dipped in that clear river
+
+unaware and brazen 
+
+in the face of 500 foot waterfalls.  
+
+[[!img ddd.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+So I returned to the hut shouting to Anna
+
+"hey I went skinny dipping and it was wonderf..."
+
+before I noticed a bunch of Tico forest workers
+
+who laughed so hard at me saying
+
+in Spanish that ended in piranhas.  
+
+The thing is, in this world of possible nuclear annihilation, I really would prefer to choose ignorant bliss, like I did in Costa Rica, so long ago.

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diff --git a/posts/What_is_an_Artist__63__.mdwn b/posts/What_is_an_Artist__63__.mdwn
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+I guess it was a former student of mine, a friend named Ashley who I recently asked a question of why she friended me back on facebook.  I frankly asked her that because I had forgotten who she was, but her response was she liked my art now...  Well, she said it better.  But it made me wonder about my artist identity that has changed through my lifetime.
+
+[[!img wortroot_painting_hill_2001ish.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+The question came to me what is an artist?  I began wondering how I as someone who paints a lot or draws changes me and transforms me.  Form fitting function, what is happening to me when I try on these paint spattered shoes?  
+
+[[!img yard.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+What comes to mind is a discussion I once had with an artist, Tessa, who told me she used to have cruddy art supplies, but then she started taking care of things and how that changed for her.  
+
+I am going through something similar with my art supplies and all things art.  
+
+For example, I rephotographed this picture of my art, with dried paint.  It is so much better this way.  Amazing what a little care can do.
+
+
+[[!img bolder_bike_hojoki_picture_with_river_clinch_by_joey_photo.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+
+
+One thing about that is my life has been this constant transformation, and in matters of change, I am feeling hesitant in terms of what I can control, yet it seems art is thrusting itself into me, and I cannot control that at all, so I must embrace it.  
+
+When I climbed Quaker Mountain (Monteverde) to ask Lucky Guindon the meaning of life, she said "yes, fate is real, but it is a choice."
+
+
+[[!img bolder_dry_paint_version_clinchhojokijoeybike.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+My art has never been finished or very polished.  Maybe I am noticing that it could use a second layer of paint more than I ever did before.
+
+What I haven't said is this is my whole person.  I am defending my argument more than I ever used to, though I meditate and and am not sacrificing everything for trying to be right.  Something is changing though.
+
+Once there was a Quaker bookstore worker in Berea, I think.  He had a young girl on the back of his bike after school a lot and ultimately died of cancer.  I think I am getting some of those details confused.  Maybe I just met him in a bookstore.  Maybe he was Mr Robie himself.  But I had a very deep conversation with him about transience as the true nature of all people.  I think that is not said enough to be honest.  
+
+Maybe that is a big part of why I love the story of impermanence that Hojoki tells.  I am not worried about my personality change.  It really seems to be a step in the right direction.  
+
+Art was always this thing I left for someone else.  Now, I guess, I am that person.  
+
+[[!img DSCF1937.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/What_will_happen_if_I_am_not_fully_funded_on_Kickstarter__63__.mdwn b/posts/What_will_happen_if_I_am_not_fully_funded_on_Kickstarter__63__.mdwn
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+
+
+1.  I will go forward with the book making process. 
+
+2.  I will publish it on CreateSpace so it is available on Amazon.
+
+3.  It will be ok. 
+
+4.  But I don't really want this to happen, and if you don't either, you can back a second copy to give to someone!  :)

diff --git a/posts/My_New_Blog_Lives_Here.mdwn b/posts/My_New_Blog_Lives_Here.mdwn
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+I am parking my new blog right in this spot...  
+
+[[!img secondclinchriverjoeyinspiredpaintinghojokistyle.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+This morning when I woke, I guess it was a little bit quieter, and I looked outside knowing it had snowed.  
+
+I am glad my blog is in this new place now.  There really is something to be said about trusting the blog host, and I really don't think Steemit is for everybody, meaning most of their money still deceptively goes to a few individuals.  With branchable I know exactly what kind of people run the blog, since my brother is one of them.  And since he fixed a bug in my computer that was making me not write as much poetry last month, I am eternally grateful.  
+
+Start a Poem
+
+Knowing it could just as soon be a war or a fire
+as a peace or just a place to inspire.
+
+Finish it, too soon, abrupt
+snow flakes splashing as rain on a glad windshield.  
+
+
+
+I recently reread a children's book about Basho and another also about Issa.  So I got something rad from each book that is informing my haiku writing.  According to the Issa book, _Cool Melons Turn to Frogs!_, Issa wrote his emotions into his haikus.  This might surprise you but I usually put more empathy tied to natural things than outright personal emotion into my haiku writing, which is kind of what _Grass Sandals_ the Basho book portrayed.
+
+Day ahead, mud stained snow.
+
+Long path lit up, as under
+
+quilt. Secretly reading.
+
+-MERH
+
+So when I write a haiku, I often just talk about how I think the world around seems to feel, where Issa might say how he actually felt inserted into natural things.  
+
+
+This Issa reminds me of the slow process.  And I surely have felt a snail's pace...
+
+
+    O snail
+    Climb Mount Fuji,
+    But slowly, slowly!
+
+(Katatsumuri sorosoro nobore Fuji no yama 蝸牛そろそろ登れ富士の山)
+
+One of Basho's poems seems quoted more than any other, and yet...
+
+古池や蛙飛びこむ水の音 furu ike ya / kawazu tobikomu / mizu no oto
+   an ancient pond / a frog jumps in / the splash of water [1686]
+
+From what I gathered on Basho, I felt more similar in writing styles, as I said, but it is worth mentioning that my haiku are in a collection of about 400 at most.  (Mostly unpublished and NOT ready.)
+
+Basho and Issa each wrote 1,000 haikus in their life.  
+
+I rarely write more than one haiku a day, though once I wrote 30 in a long intensive spell with memories of a natural place fresh.  
+Basho once wrote 100 haikus in one sitting, so I have a ways to come.
+
+Here are 17 syllables I once pulled together on the subject of a haiku:  Haiku is a person.  I am writing an essay about her/him/it. 
+
+I used to think American haiku was just an attempt at writing short poetry modeled after an untranslatable form of Japanese poetry. I remember going around Berea College, when I was getting my undergraduate English degree there, and I would think things like, must write haiku, but also that that was just some obligatory random Westernized attempt. Haiku was an obligatory attempt at the impossible. Yet I was so drawn to it. I deeply believed it was a lost cause though, and that there was no real reason to celebrate haiku. 
+
+I am but cleaning
+maid. But this moment eyes the
+oak leaf hypnotist. 
+
+All through my time at Berea College, I walked around staring at the beautiful chestnut tree and the amazing ginkgo both of which nourish the contemplative practice of students and professors and other squirrels. I’d say, this is stupid, but I am going to write a haiku about these beautiful things. The beauty was real. I believed in the beauty. I’m talking career beauty appreciation, like a real artist which I might have done if I realized my talent. Do I hear my words?
+
+Back in college I knew publishing was something I could do if I tried enough. I never said publishing took being good, and I didn’t really believe that either. Humility though, can be a little bit like too many apologies, and though you might feel humbled, maybe you just need to thank. So this essay is meant to be a gratitude essay, meant to get real with the haiku, to thank it for being alive and real and vibrant and a song that I want to sing, a party, a celebration I want to go to. And boy does it take talent for a girl to believe in herself, for a person to embrace poetry, for an egg to decide to hatch.
+
+In college I wrote 5, 7, 5 in my syllable count. I would mark the digits of my fingers as I thought syllables. Just a tap on the table where I did not focus on the study of Christianity, just a tap to indicate a syllable, and most of the time it was ignored as one of my eccentricities.
+
+Publication can be a sign that a person really is invested in their work, and it can be a result of writing good stuff. I like to look in the publications where I have poems now and I order the poets based on how short they have written their poems, and often I come in first place.
+
+I believe Haiku. I have learned from the poem itself, of its worth. I am not saying that I believe in it. I would be a nut to even consider not believing in haiku. When you write a form, The form becomes a friend. Haiku becomes a proper noun. It responds to you. You don’t have to do 5,7,5. You can do short long short. You can learn Japanese. You could travel a long road north with only Haiku to keep you company. You can learn Chinese. You can translate Basho, Issa, and others.
+
+The paradox is good. The humility is good. It is just a poem, the most simple, tiny trivial, skilled, transforming, uplifting, violent, good, expressive, of things. Like one of those chestnuts, a seed forward. A seed forward.
+
+I believe Haiku.
+Professor arrange chestnuts
+phallic. Squirrels too.
+
+Lately in spurts I might write up to 30 haiku in a sitting. Writing Haiku is an exercise like swimming laps. Though it might not be called a motor skill entirely, it takes a training that builds with focus. Observing the world is a big part of it. I know some early poets who think they are collecting words for poems only some of their lives. Like they can turn it off. I know the whole life collects poems. So I can sit here and write about my college memories, see? Some of those Haikus have not made it out yet. It is important they get born; they can handle life.
+
+The photo’s mother,
+chubby woman, snaps ginkgo.
+Golden day falling.

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blog
diff --git a/index.mdwn b/index.mdwn
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--- a/index.mdwn
+++ b/index.mdwn
@@ -1,42 +1,8 @@
-Here is a link to my kickstarter project, which if I am funded, I will be able to proceed with the first printing of my upcoming children's book. But are the metaphorical girls in this picture really smiling full smiles yet? No. This is unfinished art. Let me explain further.
-
-https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mugword/year-of-writing-and-illustrating-my-first-children
-
-So I am going to feature at least 5 main concepts for the children's book, all of which are stirring in my head, and production will be possible for any of them. And I am going to let you - my reader - vote on which one you think is best.
-
-Hojoki for Children is the second possible.  I already have some of it's early version sketched out.  What would I change?  I had told this story from an Appalachian perspective in this edition.  I think I would stick to Japanese in the polished final draft.  Be sure to vote for the concept you like the best!  
-
-One way to do that is as a note after backing my kickstarter!  :)
-
-[[!img kaisangochildrenants.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-A whirlwind, earthquake, and fire in twelfth century Japan, and a man who disassembled his house, threw it in the river, and reassembled it downstream... many times, until he was left with Hojoki, a ten by ten foot hut he wrote about in his happy last years.
-
-[[!img hojoki1__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-
-
-[[!img 2__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 3__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 4__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 5__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 6__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 7__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 8__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 9__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 10__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 11__40__2__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 13__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
-[[!img 12__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
-
+[[!if test="enabled(sidebar)" then="""
+[[!sidebar]]
+""" else="""
+[[!inline pages=sidebar raw=yes]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="page(./posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show="10"
+actions=yes rootpage="posts"]]
diff --git a/posts/kickstarter.mdwn b/posts/kickstarter.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
+Here is a link to my kickstarter project, which if I am funded, I will be able to proceed with the first printing of my upcoming children's book. But are the metaphorical girls in this picture really smiling full smiles yet? No. This is unfinished art. Let me explain further.
+
+https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mugword/year-of-writing-and-illustrating-my-first-children
+
+So I am going to feature at least 5 main concepts for the children's book, all of which are stirring in my head, and production will be possible for any of them. And I am going to let you - my reader - vote on which one you think is best.
+
+Hojoki for Children is the second possible.  I already have some of it's early version sketched out.  What would I change?  I had told this story from an Appalachian perspective in this edition.  I think I would stick to Japanese in the polished final draft.  Be sure to vote for the concept you like the best!  
+
+One way to do that is as a note after backing my kickstarter!  :)
+
+[[!img kaisangochildrenants.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+A whirlwind, earthquake, and fire in twelfth century Japan, and a man who disassembled his house, threw it in the river, and reassembled it downstream... many times, until he was left with Hojoki, a ten by ten foot hut he wrote about in his happy last years.
+
+[[!img hojoki1__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+
+
+[[!img 2__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 3__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 4__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 5__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 6__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 7__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 8__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 9__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 10__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 11__40__2__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 13__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 12__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+

diff --git a/index.mdwn b/index.mdwn
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--- a/index.mdwn
+++ b/index.mdwn
@@ -36,7 +36,6 @@ A whirlwind, earthquake, and fire in twelfth century Japan, and a man who disass
 
 [[!img 11__40__2__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
 
-
 [[!img 13__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
 
 [[!img 12__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]

diff --git a/index.mdwn b/index.mdwn
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--- /dev/null
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+Here is a link to my kickstarter project, which if I am funded, I will be able to proceed with the first printing of my upcoming children's book. But are the metaphorical girls in this picture really smiling full smiles yet? No. This is unfinished art. Let me explain further.
+
+https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/mugword/year-of-writing-and-illustrating-my-first-children
+
+So I am going to feature at least 5 main concepts for the children's book, all of which are stirring in my head, and production will be possible for any of them. And I am going to let you - my reader - vote on which one you think is best.
+
+Hojoki for Children is the second possible.  I already have some of it's early version sketched out.  What would I change?  I had told this story from an Appalachian perspective in this edition.  I think I would stick to Japanese in the polished final draft.  Be sure to vote for the concept you like the best!  
+
+One way to do that is as a note after backing my kickstarter!  :)
+
+[[!img kaisangochildrenants.JPG align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+A whirlwind, earthquake, and fire in twelfth century Japan, and a man who disassembled his house, threw it in the river, and reassembled it downstream... many times, until he was left with Hojoki, a ten by ten foot hut he wrote about in his happy last years.
+
+[[!img hojoki1__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+
+
+[[!img 2__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 3__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 4__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 5__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 6__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 7__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 8__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 9__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 10__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 11__40__2__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img 13__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img 12__40__1__41__.jpg align="right" size="x500" alt=""]]
+

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diff --git a/posts/Peace_is_Power_and_We_Must_Remain_Peaceful.mdwn b/posts/Peace_is_Power_and_We_Must_Remain_Peaceful.mdwn
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+I watched Democracy Now this morning, images of confederate statues being taken down and in North Carolina, anti-racist activists kicking the fallen statue.  I hear people I know in Eastern Tennessee discussing Nazi punching on Facebook, and in person at the Peace Vigil I organize someone speaks openly that she is tired of the "peace" and that we need to show our "anger."  Even Cornell West, one of the most incredible scholars of our time, admits he is not a pacifist.  
+
+In Charlottesville this weekend, the violence was stark and deadly.  Heather Heyer, a 32 year old paralegal committed to social justice, was murdered as a white supremacist Nazi ran her over, and many too many other activists were beaten, struck, and run into by the same Nazis.  
+
+Now is the time to remember the pacifism of Martin Luther King.  Activists who oppose white supremacy need to realize that to be violent against anyone (or even to kick a statue) is not the best constructive response to the fire of hatred and violence seen in racism.  When one act of violence is returned with another act of violence then we are still in the cycle of violence, the violence will never end until leaders and activists start leading in purely peaceful ways.  When people kick a symbol of oppression, the result is a symbol of violence as the model of behavior with which the behavior is replaced.  We have to use symbols of peace when reacting to violence, hatred, and bigotry.  We have to be the role models for how the behavior needs to be.  

diff --git a/posts/Grateful_to_live_in_this_historically_black_neighborhood.mdwn b/posts/Grateful_to_live_in_this_historically_black_neighborhood.mdwn
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+There is a lot of disinformation spreading through ignorant and bigoted news sources so that many general public people, not aware that they are wrong, don't know up from down.  When you grew up listening to Fox News or Nazi propaganda in your home, you are likely to think it is the truth, and you might not know what the truth actually is.  So after talking to one of these bigoted people at a diner this morning, and after being told things that just aren't true by a man who wants to believe he is level headed and right, I feel I should set some things straight.  The main thing he said was that Ferguson was a violent racist rally that black people conducted, and that therefore Obama was held at a double standard when he "didn't condemn" the Black Lives Matter protests then.  So now it's 2017 and I am thinking it really matters where people get there news, and this man in the diner was so far gone with racism he didn't even know existed.
+
+But I came into this blog today to write something of gratitude.  I am so so so grateful that because I live in a beautiful, full, diverse, quiet, historically black neighborhood, there absolutely never is anyone here on my street with any of that hate going on.  We are a street of many kinds, but none of us would put up with confederate flags or anything fascist.  So as part of self care, I wake with gratitude, and every day I have the great fortune that my street has so many kind wonderful people.  There are black and white people on this street and we all look out for each other.  If someone needs a cup of milk or sugar or eggs, they don't have to look very far, they just reach over their fence and call out to a neighbor, and we take care of each other.  Over the years, I have gotten to know almost everyone who lives on my street.  Some people are more introverted than others, and they can keep to themselves in our peaceful neighborhood.  Others are outside every day gardening and sitting on the front porch.  The people of this neighborhood have become my people.  We have something that other communities don't.  It is like stepping back into the 80's or 90's because of how we still relate to one another rather than just using facebook and phones.  So my home-street is rich, wealthy beyond any place or area where I have lived, because of this thing we have called community.  
+
+Maybe you have a street kind of like mine, or maybe you have to watch out a little more because of the escalating conflict in our world with 45 teaching hate.  Our street wasn't always this way.  The thing is, our street used to be a little more volatile.  In the early 80's when my family moved to this place in this town, there were a lot of drunks who would sling their bottles down in the back behind our houses where there now is a park.  We all wanted the drunks to clear out (even maybe some of the drunks wanted it).  But the person who was integral in the cleaning up of our street was a man called Jackson.  Jackson was one of the earliest people on this street I think.  He used to live away for a while, but he did move back to the street of his childhood here eventually.  My mother was a big part of shooing away the drunks with a broom!  But Jackson visioned what the neighborhood could be.  It happens that Jackson is African American, and the reason I mention it is to show one example of the fact that we all are human beings and that the color of our skin is just a shade, one or the other, or many.  
+
+Another important person to our street was Tommy.  Tommy also is African American, and he also was the first black police officer in our town.  He has looked out for the security of our street after hours, and made our street feel safe since before I remember.  Of course, Charlie is a big part of what makes our street what it is, and she happens to be German with African American family members.  
+
+Every person on this street, in some way, made this street a better place for us, even the drunks who reformed.
+
+May our responses to 45's terrorism be peaceful and respectful.  
+
+Amen.

diff --git a/posts/Poem_for_Coleman_Barks_because_you_so_like_Rumi.mdwn b/posts/Poem_for_Coleman_Barks_because_you_so_like_Rumi.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+<br>Eclipse II</br>
+<br></br>
+<br>We measure the distance between celestial objects in angles.</br>
+<br>The clenched fist is ten degrees above the horizon.</br>
+<br>The stars of Orion measure three degrees.</br>
+<br></br>
+<br>You need to breathe in a way that's good for you.</br>
+<br>Maybe your breath is thick and fills the night as solid against the sky.</br>
+<br>Or you're staring at the sun about the only time it's safe, wondering the at nebulous.</br>
+<br></br>
+<br>There are two words like sun and Earth, you and I.</br>
+<br>There are so many other bodies.</br>
+<br>Few moments can I feel so close to eternity in broad daylight.</br>
+<br></br>
+<br>Visions keep us firm, our balance holds.</br>
+<br>Maybe you catch my breath for a moment.</br>
+<br>A brush so close I can almost touch.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Part_6:__Sisterhood_-_being_able.mdwn b/posts/Part_6:__Sisterhood_-_being_able.mdwn
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+Mountain Meditations
+
+I.  Lunar Phases 
+I had my period with the full moon, the light bleeding through my bedroom window waking my ovaries with a fever. You might have too, a woman in a dorm room above me.  Nothing is deeper down than the sub-basement. Kaleigh, a new transfer and friend of a friend of a friend, stuck her head out the window to alert me earlier today. "Hey, Maggie! I can see you from the pot." 
+Kaleigh reminds me of Lauren, a woman who I lived with and love. We lived like sisters on a Mountain, isolated and giggling. We drew out the line between friend and sister on the floor of Emerson House, then ripped the tape. Three of us opened up our shirts and felt the breasts of our sisters. Those same three sisters took off our clothes in a public building, after hours, and danced like wild hyenas to "Obsessed with You" Orion Experience. We three projected our bisexual feelings that we felt on our straight but not narrow boss. Tessa, the happily heterosexual sister, but not narrow, was a little annoyed with our explorations at time. But once when the entire nonprofit was off the top of the mountain, except for the boss in bed early, we all four went out to Meditation Rock, a holy, spiritually grounding place. 
+It was a full moon, and we all stripped down to our scant layers, or beyond. We moon bathed on the highest location in hundreds of miles. We all were sure to let both sides of our body, all sides actually, be shined on by the holy light. Back in our house, there was this time when we all grew bitter towards one another. Moon to moon, we ran back to Emerson House. I do not remember the season or the feeling of the air. Part of me thinks it must have been cold out. 
+I wish I was more of a mentor for us then. Of Dylan, Tessa, Lauren and I, I was the oldest. Why was I not stronger? That time was my time of coming out into the world. 
+I took a risk then and moved from being in a condition of disability and identity in disability to pure empowerment.  But it is constant work.  I say this because if the world caves in, I am the one who needs to prop it up. I am my healer. I am my enabler. I am the one who must love me before you will. I am the one who must say "I can" when I go to climb a mountain and all I hear is "I can't". I said once and I repeat, "A girl climbed a mountain. “I can't” said the girl. “I can't, I can't,” said the girl. “Can't,” said the mountain and the valleys below. Later, a woman climbed a mountain. I can - said the girl. “I can,” said the woman. “Can,” said the mountain and the valleys below." 
+I am following the waters up and down the mountains. Some day, I will sail away into the ocean. For now, I think I will skinny dip in memories. I will skip through the shallows. Float downstream, bumping the algae covered moss.
+
+
+
+II.  Run, My Blood
+
+An outdoors walk at the mountain, though it exhausts the physical body, is the medicine needed for deepening the consciousness and soul. And because this forest has not been cut for hundreds of years, it makes me think of a human retirement home, of vibrant people, who have had years to work on their personal perfection.
+
+It was one of those downhill walks to the point where I turned around and came back. I walked slowly down the hill, taking pictures, aware that my feet were walking on slippery soil. Walking back up the hill my knees and back began to hurt. I stopped to rest on a nice granite rock. Then resuming my walk, I noticed that my uphill struggle at least was firmer on my footing.
+
+I can watch a million natural things looking out a window or sitting on a rocky cliff. But walking my blood is as fluid as my body is, navigating through the world.
+
+Right now I feel I have been allowed to absorb the peace that is here in nature. It is so important that I feel this way now and then, for my mental and physical health. It is a feeling called exhilaration and a place of deep connection with space.
+
+My window here faces the North and the sun hits my eyes. My whole body is warm as I write this, with an emphasis on my blood, which can become stagnant. I watched a squirrel and a bird out the window with a feeling that this is how wildlife always feels.
+
+I often have sat in a city scene counting down the days before I can exit those cubicles and walk in the light with nature.
+
+Now it seems less important that I am struggling for space or to feel content with the people I know on The Mountain. More important to me is that my blood is pumping. I am alive and excited for life. And I am living in an ecosystem of old growth trees, and wildlife that enjoys the benefits.
+
+When I came here I looked at the view. When I was here for a while my camera zoomed in to capture the image of my feet. Finally I am looking at a bigger picture, and since the picture is so big, and to allow each creature a moment to blow in the wind in its own way, I finally realize that I don't have time on this earth for complaining about others, when I could use my time to feel my blood pump in the beauty of the day.
+
+
+
+III. Feelings on the Mountain
+
+I was not certain why I felt so wretched but I did. I have been on this mountain for four days now. My initial reaction was utter joy, exhilaration, and gratitude. Why would an organization have an opportunity like this for a place like me? What wonderful thing have I done to find myself here with the gods up on this mountain?
+
+Last night I began to worry about things. My mood pendulum began to swing in the direction of sadness. By noon today I was fully aware of my concerns, my emotional vulnerability. It was rooted in my concern that my identity is not being properly represented here because it is a new environment. The first impression I make is always a bit off, or drastically different from my actual self.
+
+Two of the other interns were bold and mature and lead enough to reach out to me and ask me if I needed support simply because they saw me withdrawing. They talked with me and it worked!
+
+I am starting to believe now that just through their open listening and genuine understanding, maybe, just maybe, I can learn to be even more genuine here than I ever have been able.
+
+
+
+IV.  Mediation Rock
+
+Here I sit on Meditation Rock.  I write this in my head, an attempt to describe the view into the valley. My eyes fill with tears; I am thankful for this life this beauty, this peace that roles here with the hills. Instantly I feel an answer to my thanks, a feeling that gushes through me. Nature is not saying "you are welcome," but "con mucho gusto," a Spanish expression.  "With much pleasure." This is the first time I have not needed a translator.
+
+How can I paint a landscape with words?
+
+My eyes, my gloved hands, my moist tongue, my damp nose, and my ears come together to find the beginnings of an image. It is the dee dee dee my mother and sister say is the song of the chickadee. It is the drip of the melting snow and the simultaneous soft drop of the falling snow.
+
+Exterior to interior senses work backwards. We use sight more than any other sense unless we are blind. But our vision is the least connected to our core. Feeling, the neglected sense, the sense that is evolving out of us, rises up on an occasion like this, not wanting to be left behind.
+
+And so it is not the long visual distance between me and the lake at the bottom, the tree, the winding road. Instead it is the sound of this distance, impossible for sound to carry between the mountain top and bottom. The sound and the feeling of stillness in the air ignite.  Peace enters in to my body's home.
+
+Suddenly now my tongue feels moist on arriving but soon is dry and parched with the mountain air. I am always prepared to consume water. My nose smells the damp crisp smell of snow on the ground, contrasting with the cold liquid snow that falls on my forehead crowning me, or making me a unicorn.
+
+And finally my eyes are clear of the tears of gratefulness enough to notice the 400 year old to dwarf oak tree to my left, and the 500 year old oak on the slope. My eyes avail themselves to dart over the valley, to cross the hills of this Little Scaly Mountain.
+
+I breathe it in for a long time the feeling of communion with nature. I feel her gracefulness, her with much pleasure.  Dee dee dee.  “Con mucho gusto”.   Then I rise and step away.

diff --git a/posts/Part_4:__Monteverde_-_life__39__s_higher_purpose.mdwn b/posts/Part_4:__Monteverde_-_life__39__s_higher_purpose.mdwn
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+Over 15 years ago, I spent hours every day for months, in the rainforest of Costa Rica, walking with my sister in the Busque Nubosa or cloud forest preserve, learning the important lesson of why environmentalists fight to preserve nature.  
+I lived with my sister, a botanical artist who was determined to add meaning to my life. She encouraged me to pick up fallen epiphyte flowers, scattered on the path from fifty feet above the canopy. I was her assistant. I ended up in her artwork, sometimes posing, other times unexpectedly, gazing over the edge of the continental divide. There were places where we could stand and visibly see the Pacific Ocean to our left and the Atlantic Ocean to our right. The beauty of places such as that harbor a home in the human soul. My identity is composed of scenes like those: reasons for fighting, for gripping onto nature, grappling with factors that make the environment unhealthy.
+Everyone who ever has spent a week in Monteverde seems to have seen the Howler Monkeys there. But Anna and I experienced a deeper wilderness. We spent all day wandering paths that Anna navigated like an expert. At one point hundreds of migrating white faced monkeys converged with our path. Anna told me to sit tight, knowing the wild animals could grow defensive if they felt threatened. I sat tight. They swung through the forest for almost an hour. They left me shaking, quaking quite literally, and trembling at their power.
+This trip changed my life, my world view, and my experience of nature.  I walked so much, I spent every waking moment in the woods, spotting flocks of parrots and rare animals, I learned so many plant names, I became so familiar with the wilderness and these things are so distant for me today.
+One special day Anna and I walked down a different road from our rental house. We walked in silence. Anna, usual set on educating me about biology and rarely quiet, seemed somber. I trailed behind her observing trailers where people lived and farms of cows. We got to a point where the trail met a view. Because of the lay of the land in Costa Rica, views can be stunning beyond words. I remember making a promise to the land in the height of my consciousness. I said I would return to that mountainside overlooking San Luis and ultimately the Atlantic Ocean. I promised to protect that view, to use my American privilege for good, to return for the land.
+The world is larger than me. It craves justice and liberty. The environment needs respect and attention. I am needed. The mountains from Costa Rica to Appalachia need a voice; they need someone who will sacrifice a lot for them. They need a person devoted and committed to their preservation. The environment needs a steward, a advocate who will fight for the beauty in it.  It is important to remember why we give ourselves to stewardship.

diff --git a/posts/The_Cracked_Nut:_A_Progression_of_Essays_and_Poems_by_Maggie_Hess.mdwn b/posts/The_Cracked_Nut:_A_Progression_of_Essays_and_Poems_by_Maggie_Hess.mdwn
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/The_Cracked_Nut:_A_Progression_of_Essays_and_Poems_by_Maggie_Hess.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,64 @@
+The Cracked Nut:  A Progression of Essays and Poems
+
+1.          Childhood - 
+2.          High School - 
+3.          Mental Illness – a pit of challenges
+4.          Monteverde – life's higher purpose
+5.          Activism - 
+6.          Sisterhood – being able
+7.          Berea College – sticking to it
+8.          Abrams Creek – revisiting a spot
+9.          Loss/grief -
+10. Swimming – the hydrostatic benefit of moving forward
+11. Art -
+12. Now -
+
+ONE
+Childhood
+
+When I was in high school, I stuck the old cassette in hoping for memories.  Anna and Joey had graduated on to college and a career but I missed them.  I was troubled by the thought of losing our childhood, so I put in that cassette tape to hear Mom's antique voice reading we children a story.  The cassette stuck in that reel jerking way tapes do, the reoccurring glitch snagging her melodic voice.
+
+I was heartbroken and felt lonesome for the days the tape conjured up for me.  I felt so lonely.  Daddy had moved to DC for a job and Mom was at work.  My Calculus homework usually quelled my nerves, but I had run out of homework. I reached for my diary but reverted to thinking about family away.  In 1999 email meant something different than what it does today.  My friend Audrey was my only high school friend with whom I exchanged emails.  
+
+So I opened up a word processor.  In the next few months, I wrote a fictional memoir about my childhood.  I recorded nearly every memory I had, turning them into beautiful stones my mind can return to even now at age 32.  Today, after that computer and hard drive ironically have gone the way of all flesh, those words now are gone.  
+
+Last night I dreamed of the calm voice my Mom used with us children and in my sleep she called me a griot.  A griot, not the griot, and that article was mattered to me because Anna has always cast a long shadow with especially her recent writing.  I even for a year lost sight of my core identity belief that I am a a writer too, like my sister, and a writer is a griot.  
+
+When the story gets deleted by time with nobody to read it, it is the griot's duty to tell it again somehow to a wider audience.  My stepmother suggested I write it again and because of that suggestion and because Florence Nightengail would allow no excuses, I will begin my story with a sense of love and admiration.
+
+
+
+
+
+The White Coats are Coming!!  The White Coats are Coming!!
+
+Mom would not let us forget.  Instead she instilled that feeling into us, riding in the country quite illegally but slowly, carefully, the back of the station wagon high and proud, and our dirt shoes bouncing gently on the gravel ground.  We liked watching the berry roads pass by us.  I imagined flying.  Anna was already deciphering the different names of twigs and branches.  Joey said funny things, his face smudged with berries and if we weren't careful, his hand in the cut down milk jug.  Jerry would stick out his torso out a window screaming “the white coats are coming!!”  It was one of many inside jokes we had, jokes that we made funnier than they might really seem.  
+
+We were deep in the Country.  We'd made it past several baffled farmers, past Silas and Oney's farm who were our neighbors in older days.  We would stop in on the way home because in those days it was rude to pass such a close friend without a visit.  Silas waved from the tobacco field and Oney swatted her broom at one of her husband's kittens and lifted her hand high.   
+
+
+
+
+
+Bambi
+
+I breathed through a stuffed Bambi held under my chin as if it was a tracheal chord and vital organ.  The deer had been my totem before any other.  Since neighbor Silas offered me raisins and when I ate them he said the raisins were tobacco.  He farmed and loved to shoot deer;  he hung their heads on his wall.   Oney told me to come in, and I'd help myself to the toys of their grown children.  I was 3 when Bambi came into my life.  I was always absentmindedly misplacing the toy and because I felt a deep connection with it, I still feel an affinity with deer when I come across them on path or road.  
+
+
+
+Tin Roof
+
+I do not have to look at the picture.  I remember reaching out to feel the cold October raindrops fall on my hand.  I remember picking out that red sweater thinking I'd look like a young teenage actress from a show I liked.  Standing under that tin roofed porch on the old white house in the holler at the farm, the rain reminded me of music and now George Winston's piano recital reminds me of that cold October rain.  
+
+
+Talent
+
+Daddy says his one talent is he can wiggle his ears.  I add “you can do all sorts of things!”  I'm eight and walking through the tobacco field beside Silas's house.   “Name one.”  He says.  “You always stick out your tongue when I twist your ears.”  He bends over and lets me.  But he insists that is not a talent.  
+
+Mom is inside listening to Silas and Oney banter back and forth with each other.  Mom never told me her talent but I might make a guess.  She spends all her energy helping other people.  She cares little for herself.  Only a little less than the basic necessities.  Mom offers Oney some homemade Daniel Boone Apple Pie.  Mom's not a very good cook, so she comes up with names to perk our interest.  
+
+Silas is talking about a neighbor who hangs his tobacco before most people cut their tobacco.  On the other end of the table, Oney is recanting a tale about the troubled marriage of one of her daughters.  
+
+Out in the pasture, near where Daddy and I walk,  Anna and Joey are barefoot.  Joey jumps the fence followed by rosy cheeked Anna.  They grab sticks and poke the watering troughs where frogs have laid their eggs.  I over hear their laughter but I am consumed with the exuberant feeling of nature and its effect on me.  Mom comes out and hollers “children, it's time to go back home!”  Anna abets Joey to hid behind the trough.  Anna never wanted to leave our farm, which was next door to this one.  I think she hatched from an egg herself, a puddle of slimy water, much like the tadpoles.  
+
+Joey was there to calmly convince Anna they could not live there forever hunkered up by the troughs.  Joey came along to reassure me all was well.  People notice his brain when they first see Joey because it's so great.  But after a long time I realized it is his sensitivity that is his talent. 

rename posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn to posts/jig.mdwn
diff --git a/posts/jig.mdwn b/posts/jig.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5fbead
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/jig.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,7 @@
+<br>Preparation</br>
+<br>soothing jitters</br>
+<br>quelling unwanted notions</br>
+<br>that keep cropping up</br>
+<br>like a garden</br>
+<br>of nibbling</br>
+<br>creatures.</br>
diff --git a/posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn b/posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn
deleted file mode 100644
index e5fbead..0000000
--- a/posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,7 +0,0 @@
-<br>Preparation</br>
-<br>soothing jitters</br>
-<br>quelling unwanted notions</br>
-<br>that keep cropping up</br>
-<br>like a garden</br>
-<br>of nibbling</br>
-<br>creatures.</br>

diff --git a/posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn b/posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e5fbead
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/maggiemargarethess__64__gmail.com.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,7 @@
+<br>Preparation</br>
+<br>soothing jitters</br>
+<br>quelling unwanted notions</br>
+<br>that keep cropping up</br>
+<br>like a garden</br>
+<br>of nibbling</br>
+<br>creatures.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn b/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn
index 1293fea..f185c25 100644
--- a/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn
@@ -1,26 +1,51 @@
 Permanent.
+
 My body in the rear view mirror strong as waves.
+
 An eight year old kissing my nose.
+
 Nothing mattering other than 
+
 I'd do anything for
+
 I'd part the ocean, knead it as dough,
+
 for this beautiful, smart person.
+
 He knew the riddles written in the stars.
+
 He played with me to add buoyancy I needed.
 
+
+
 That was before the break.
+
 That was before years of gaining so much weight 
+
 my knees could not carry my body 
+
 up the dunes.
+
 That was before the sea knocked the breath out of me.
 
+
+
 In my falling you were hurting too and I could not help you then.
 
+
+
 The year the dolphins chose me
+
 will always be with me.
+
 The look in your eyes 
+
 left behind
+
 a child whose mother feared sharks.
 
+
+
 I would have taught you to drive then.
+
 Aren't we glad I didn't?

diff --git a/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn b/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..1293fea
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Impressions_of_Trout.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,26 @@
+Permanent.
+My body in the rear view mirror strong as waves.
+An eight year old kissing my nose.
+Nothing mattering other than 
+I'd do anything for
+I'd part the ocean, knead it as dough,
+for this beautiful, smart person.
+He knew the riddles written in the stars.
+He played with me to add buoyancy I needed.
+
+That was before the break.
+That was before years of gaining so much weight 
+my knees could not carry my body 
+up the dunes.
+That was before the sea knocked the breath out of me.
+
+In my falling you were hurting too and I could not help you then.
+
+The year the dolphins chose me
+will always be with me.
+The look in your eyes 
+left behind
+a child whose mother feared sharks.
+
+I would have taught you to drive then.
+Aren't we glad I didn't?

diff --git a/posts/there_is_no_difference.mdwn b/posts/there_is_no_difference.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eb561b6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/there_is_no_difference.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,36 @@
+Same, same.
+The flower begs for sun, the sun rises for the flower.
+Therapists listen to their patients -
+successful lunatics practice empathy.
+Relationships go round.
+Grey is every shade.
+That black is blacker than this black.
+Aqui esta la pina.  
+Alli es la pina.
+La pina es alta.
+In proximity oriented around me, crickets are nearby.
+Rhymes simmer under my first layer of thoughts.
+Sometimes they snag against me.
+Sometimes we meet minds like us.
+Sometimes we have a herd that walks beside us.
+Other times we stand solo.
+For a long time I had no close friends.
+Then there was Joy and learning a little about respect.
+What did Joy learn from a stunted porcupine?
+I grabbed onto some amazing caring concerned activists.
+I saw something beautiful in the fact that they wanted to make change.
+I wanted to make some of the same changes.
+I had some friends.  I had a loose knit group to interact with sometimes.
+My activism was never constant so I was sometimes unsure about the friendships.
+I made friends with gray.  
+I didn't make friends with Dominion coal.
+I didn't make friends with George Dubya Bush.
+I didn't approve of the fact my land trust plastered the Dominion logo on a pamphlet.
+But the friends I made were homo sapiens.
+The were human.
+They were blended colors.
+And today I make a new friend I hope as other older friends grow wisdom hair.
+This all might sound random.
+But that's because that is what it is today.  
+
+If you don't like it, why did you read to the last line?  

diff --git a/posts/Passing_Strangers.mdwn b/posts/Passing_Strangers.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c81ec3e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Passing_Strangers.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+I meet strangers
+passing and wonder how the 
+world has changed.

diff --git a/posts/Bristol_Comprehensive_Planning_asks_for_jobs.mdwn b/posts/Bristol_Comprehensive_Planning_asks_for_jobs.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..dbc4eff
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Bristol_Comprehensive_Planning_asks_for_jobs.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,19 @@
+When the Comprehensive Planning group met at Slater Center on July 27, many of the participants expressed a unified concern about the fact that young adults have a hard time remaining in Bristol due to lack of jobs.  So how can we be sure that children can grow up to stay in Bristol?  The issue really comes down to if they can have a good job that is not just in retail.  
+
+You might think retail is a sure thing that is not going anywhere, and that is probably true from the consumer end, but from the viewpoint of the jobs, the future of employment in retail is diving.  According to the World Economic Forum, sensors and digital devices are going to create “hyper-personalized” customer experiences which with technology serving us, the retail jobs will fall significantly, checkout will be done remotely when you leave the store with your product, so no need for baggers, there will be automatic household deliveries that could be done by driver less cars and drones,  and all of these point to less jobs in retail.
+
+The cost that has been poured into the Pinnacle seems problematic because it is not sustainable and all the money spent in these big box stores is funneled out of small private businesses.  
+
+In the past couple years, Bristol Virginia and Tennessee have invested heavily in retail oriented job development such as that in the Pinnacle and Cabella shopping areas.  But what happens when retail goes bust?  As our community builds a comprehensive plan for the next 30 years, 
+
+Between 1993 and 2009 Ponca City Oclahoma lost the single industry that had been providing the majority of the jobs for the town.  According to a 2010 study by the International Economic Development Council, “Ponca City, Oklahoma was not only a one-company town but a one-industry town, with the local economy 80 percent oil-dependent and totally invested in the success of Conoco.” 
+
+Yet Ponca was not passive in its response to the busting local economy, it formed an economic development advisory board, started an aggressive business retention program, a workforce training program, a business incubator and a business accelerator.  3,000 new jobs have been created in Ponca due to these efforts.  
+
+Maybe you don't want Bristol to look so barren as it currently does in parts, but if you are like the people who so far have been polled at a Comprehensive Plan Meeting, you know the need to be careful as we build our town that we do not build for a boom that does not last.  That is what people mean by sustainable economics.  
+
+One area that already seems super strong is our region's health care jobs which are on the influx.  How can we bring more of those jobs into our city?
+
+I have no doubt that Bristol's sustainable future lies in the hands of the participants of the upcoming comprehensive plan meetings.  It would be good to see a packed room of young people at that meeting.  
+
+Next Community meeting for the comprehensive plan will be in October.

diff --git a/posts/Shop_Keeper.mdwn b/posts/Shop_Keeper.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2fd6c98
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Shop_Keeper.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,19 @@
+Shop Keeper
+
+
+The definition of a shop keeper is a good listener.
+
+Like some dude named Patrick.
+
+It doesn't matter that he's worn out his ear buds with loud music.
+
+Music is meant to be loud, he says.
+
+Then he can listen to you.
+
+And this is not clinically proven but there's 
+
+something therapeutic happening here.
+
+There is something shared.
+

diff --git a/posts/deep_summer_lethargy.mdwn b/posts/deep_summer_lethargy.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4cff035
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/deep_summer_lethargy.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,31 @@
+Deep in the summer, even yesterday's cricket seems to have left the scene.  This would be a good time to think about what made me.  Not my mother, not my father, but loneliness extended over long stretches of time.  
+
+Am I alone in wondering if the world would come differently if I was paired in the world?  Alone?  When a person dies surrounded by love and family is it possible they don't still die alone?  How is it humanly possibly to be anything but single in the world?  
+
+These are some questions I have experienced deep in my summer lethargy, in a time when by myself it seems no one looks for me anymore.  All my friends are gone.  I am 34 and the world is moving on.  I have apparently moved past hope for dying in a crowded room.  I spend every day by myself so why would any stranger seek me for friendship again?  
+
+How could I possibly build from this strange loss to a good place again?  
+
+Life is avoidance.  Interactions never come with a serious extension of connection.
+
+It's been a long time since I felt.
+
+I live with my mother and she does her best to love me despite me.  I don't regret anyone or anything.  But it feels I am trudging nowhere, deeper and deeper into lonesomeness.  
+
+I was a cast out for many years of my life.  I found friends who meant something a time or two.  And they dissipated both times.  
+
+Moving is not my answer.  There is no special place for me in the whole world where I am better with people.  I love and I lose.  I loved and I lost.    I feel there were so many missed opportunities.  I almost would have had friends.  I almost would have had my best favorite person love me deeply.  
+
+I wish there was a job where I could have a society again.  I wish there was a church like me here.  
+
+It is the end of the month and I have about a dollar for each day this month.  There are very few answers.  
+
+I know I need to go swimming and I will.  These thoughts will dissolve into the world happening around me.  The blessings counting.  
+
+Life marches on whether we are stuck or fluidly enjoying the motion.  
+
+I guess the answer really is that I need to change the question.  I am solitary, so I shall entertain myself with what I have.  In these stuck times, I will pour into my poems.  I will dance like Billy Elliot until there is nothing else but joy.
+
+It is possible to be alone and not lonesome.  
+
+My standards don't have to blend.

diff --git a/posts/you_can__39__t_swim_without_sinking.mdwn b/posts/you_can__39__t_swim_without_sinking.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2efac77
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/you_can__39__t_swim_without_sinking.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,14 @@
+<p>this is the cry of the falling bird</p>
+<p>this is the death wail of new efforts</p>
+<p>plummet a little with me</p>
+<p>towards the ground</p>
+
+<p>your mother</p>
+<p>builds your nest</p> 
+<p>above a pond</p>
+<p>to save you</p>
+
+<p>fall with me</p>
+<p>but flap your wings</p>
+<p>an effort for life</p>
+<p>high above you're circling!</p>

diff --git a/posts/I_am_so_lucky__33__.mdwn b/posts/I_am_so_lucky__33__.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..c83bc9e
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/I_am_so_lucky__33__.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,9 @@
+<p>
+float like labs in water
+</p>
+<p>
+sailing on their backs
+</p>
+<p>
+sinking you learn to swim
+</p>

diff --git a/posts/Everyone_is_a_Writer.mdwn b/posts/Everyone_is_a_Writer.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..45ad966
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Everyone_is_a_Writer.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,34 @@
+It is human to want to write
+to be published
+to say something witty
+and wait to be heard
+we mark the walls with buffalo
+everyone a writer.
+
+A puzzle in the mix
+we sometimes wonder
+over talent
+something innate 
+and hard covered
+born in some of us.
+
+All of us have some 
+innate talent,
+inmates writing 
+on the back of soup wrappers
+it always develops
+improving with time.
+
+There is something about 
+freshness
+the nut cracked 
+still green
+pistachio hued 
+scattered against the seat.
+
+Writing evolves
+fish with feet
+fish without feet
+fish laying eggs
+fish squirting sperm on eggs
+reading same chances.

diff --git a/posts/A_Break_in_the_Heat.mdwn b/posts/A_Break_in_the_Heat.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6170f79
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/A_Break_in_the_Heat.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+It is one of those breaks in the heat wave and I am so grateful.  I have become less tolerant of melting with age.  Yesterday I got very interested in getting a small above ground swimming pool just big enough to lie in, and researched into resistance belts for swimming.  The landlady doesn't like the optics of swimming pools in backyards though, so I am going to have to make do with what I have.
+
+As for the walk through Tennessee, I find that it is too hot for me to survive.  So I am giving up on that venture.  
+
+I saw a hummingbird yesterday which I think is a good omen for things to come.  

diff --git a/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn b/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
index 6e8aa23..bcf4cc0 100644
--- a/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
+++ b/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
@@ -10,6 +10,6 @@ It is funny, for every part of her story, my story has a parallel.  But she deci
 
 I had this wonderful friend Scott who was an ecofeminist and a huge part of the mountain justice movement.  All he really did was cook and read these feminist books, then he died way too young like before turning 40.  Very sad. 
 
-I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in the Teacher's College, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
+I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in the New York City Public School Teacher's Strike, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
 
 If you have any reactions I would love to hear them.

diff --git a/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn b/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
index 01cb9cd..6e8aa23 100644
--- a/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
+++ b/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
@@ -10,6 +10,6 @@ It is funny, for every part of her story, my story has a parallel.  But she deci
 
 I had this wonderful friend Scott who was an ecofeminist and a huge part of the mountain justice movement.  All he really did was cook and read these feminist books, then he died way too young like before turning 40.  Very sad. 
 
-I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in Columbia, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
+I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in the Teacher's College, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
 
 If you have any reactions I would love to hear them.

diff --git a/posts/Poverty_and_Winning.mdwn b/posts/Poverty_and_Winning.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..ee50440
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Poverty_and_Winning.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,9 @@
+<p> I admit I have chosen to submit my manuscripts sometimes at the expense of important things like rent or food.  My monthly budget is 741 dollars which is already at the poverty level for this region of the United States.  The objective of having a full manuscript of poems published by a noteworthy publishing house is more difficult when the Poet is poor.  Period.  End of story. </p>
+
+<p>Sure you can just submit to chapbook contests that have no submission fee, but when you do that you are limiting your options by 90%.  Just being seen by publishers is something that takes money.  Due to the cost of submittable, the new submissions manager used by more and more publishers and writers, some magazines even charge general submission fees around three dollars.  I never submit to them, but that's lowering my chances.  </p>
+
+<p>Between the years 2006 (my first college class in poetry) and 2016, I was recognized with the publication of 20 poems in journals and magazines such as Friends Journal, Tule, Alehouse, Postcard Poems and Prose, and Blue Fifth Review.  This year that number has shot up to 35 poems.  I also already received an Honorable Mention by Ron Rash for the Wild Leak Poetry Contest.  I know that some day I will have a chapbook of my poetry published by one of these recognized publishing houses.    <p/>
+
+<p>So onward!  I am pursuing in poetry whether or not it is what is best for me.  Maybe someday I will regret pouring so much of my life into poetry.  Surfing was always a hobby I kind of wished I had pursued.  <p/>
+
+<p>The world certainly is not fair to low income poets or publishers for that matter.  <p/>

diff --git a/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn b/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
index 662ce82..858f25b 100644
--- a/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
 <br> Rain skips umbrella <br/>
-silences other sounds
-mute raindrops falling.
+<br> silences other sounds<br/>
+<br> mute raindrops falling.<br/>
 

diff --git a/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn b/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
index 49ec792..662ce82 100644
--- a/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-Rain skips umbrella
+<br> Rain skips umbrella <br/>
 silences other sounds
 mute raindrops falling.
 

diff --git a/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn b/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..49ec792
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Less_Visceral_.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,4 @@
+Rain skips umbrella
+silences other sounds
+mute raindrops falling.
+

diff --git a/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn b/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn
index 5cc6c38..31d9316 100644
--- a/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn
+++ b/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn
@@ -1 +1,38 @@
-This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.
+This morning I wake 
+grog headed
+critical of dreams -
+
+who in earth's abundance
+would dream of disease?
+
+I don't know 
+where dreams come from
+or where they go.
+
+Maybe Mary Oliver
+writes them in dust.
+
+Maybe dreams 
+are the promises
+of soft poetry.
+
+Maybe alien poetry 
+comes down in our dreams.
+
+Or the warped mirrors
+of mentally patients
+reflect the truth of dreams.
+
+By the time I stumble 
+to the bathroom, 
+
+I realize I am healthy
+though I dream 
+of disease.
+
+So I stop everything
+on the toilet
+
+and make myself 
+think a grateful thought.
+Thankful for bird songs.

rename posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn to posts/disease_dreams.mdwn
diff --git a/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn b/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5cc6c38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/disease_dreams.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.
diff --git a/posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn b/posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn
deleted file mode 100644
index 5cc6c38..0000000
--- a/posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1 +0,0 @@
-This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.

rename posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn to posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn
diff --git a/posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn b/posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5cc6c38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/pregnant_dreams.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.
diff --git a/posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn b/posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn
deleted file mode 100644
index 5cc6c38..0000000
--- a/posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1 +0,0 @@
-This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.

rename posts/second_post.mdwn to posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn
diff --git a/posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn b/posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5cc6c38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/pregnant_earth.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.
diff --git a/posts/second_post.mdwn b/posts/second_post.mdwn
deleted file mode 100644
index 5cc6c38..0000000
--- a/posts/second_post.mdwn
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1 +0,0 @@
-This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.

rename posts/first_post.mdwn to posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
diff --git a/posts/first_post.mdwn b/posts/first_post.mdwn
deleted file mode 100644
index 01cb9cd..0000000
--- a/posts/first_post.mdwn
+++ /dev/null
@@ -1,15 +0,0 @@
-This morning Mom was in one of her orating modes, so I decided to start taking notes.  I had her rewind a bit and go chronologically from age 17 when she started at Pembroke to 1973 when she met my father at age 30ish.  (Born in 43.)
-
-The part of her time-line that sung out to me were two conflicting layers. 
-
-One@ Age 25 she moved from New Bedford Massachusetts to NYC in pursuit of a boyfriend, though that was not what she might have said at the time, and also said her heart was with her "real friends" then. 
-
-Two@ Also in 1968 she remarked men were too dominating in the movements going on around her at the time, like the strike at Columbia.  In terms of what is similar, men still dominate parts of movements, and there still are huge exceptions.
-
-It is funny, for every part of her story, my story has a parallel.  But she decided to get married to a man.  I didn't.  
-
-I had this wonderful friend Scott who was an ecofeminist and a huge part of the mountain justice movement.  All he really did was cook and read these feminist books, then he died way too young like before turning 40.  Very sad. 
-
-I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in Columbia, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
-
-If you have any reactions I would love to hear them.
diff --git a/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn b/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..01cb9cd
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/women_and_men_in_1968.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,15 @@
+This morning Mom was in one of her orating modes, so I decided to start taking notes.  I had her rewind a bit and go chronologically from age 17 when she started at Pembroke to 1973 when she met my father at age 30ish.  (Born in 43.)
+
+The part of her time-line that sung out to me were two conflicting layers. 
+
+One@ Age 25 she moved from New Bedford Massachusetts to NYC in pursuit of a boyfriend, though that was not what she might have said at the time, and also said her heart was with her "real friends" then. 
+
+Two@ Also in 1968 she remarked men were too dominating in the movements going on around her at the time, like the strike at Columbia.  In terms of what is similar, men still dominate parts of movements, and there still are huge exceptions.
+
+It is funny, for every part of her story, my story has a parallel.  But she decided to get married to a man.  I didn't.  
+
+I had this wonderful friend Scott who was an ecofeminist and a huge part of the mountain justice movement.  All he really did was cook and read these feminist books, then he died way too young like before turning 40.  Very sad. 
+
+I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in Columbia, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
+
+If you have any reactions I would love to hear them.

diff --git a/posts/first_post.mdwn b/posts/first_post.mdwn
index bd4c803..01cb9cd 100644
--- a/posts/first_post.mdwn
+++ b/posts/first_post.mdwn
@@ -1 +1,15 @@
-This is my first post.
+This morning Mom was in one of her orating modes, so I decided to start taking notes.  I had her rewind a bit and go chronologically from age 17 when she started at Pembroke to 1973 when she met my father at age 30ish.  (Born in 43.)
+
+The part of her time-line that sung out to me were two conflicting layers. 
+
+One@ Age 25 she moved from New Bedford Massachusetts to NYC in pursuit of a boyfriend, though that was not what she might have said at the time, and also said her heart was with her "real friends" then. 
+
+Two@ Also in 1968 she remarked men were too dominating in the movements going on around her at the time, like the strike at Columbia.  In terms of what is similar, men still dominate parts of movements, and there still are huge exceptions.
+
+It is funny, for every part of her story, my story has a parallel.  But she decided to get married to a man.  I didn't.  
+
+I had this wonderful friend Scott who was an ecofeminist and a huge part of the mountain justice movement.  All he really did was cook and read these feminist books, then he died way too young like before turning 40.  Very sad. 
+
+I don't know if you were ever part of movements like any of these that me and my Mom tagged onto, which we always were generally just on the outskirts of the movements.  Actually Mom broke the strike in Columbia, and I was pretty anti-group in Mountain Justice most of the time. 
+
+If you have any reactions I would love to hear them.

calendar update
diff --git a/archives/2017.mdwn b/archives/2017.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..592399b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+[[!calendar type=year year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/01.mdwn b/archives/2017/01.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2441b7a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/01.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=01 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(01) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/02.mdwn b/archives/2017/02.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e295fbe
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/02.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=02 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(02) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/03.mdwn b/archives/2017/03.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..6c05242
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/03.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=03 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(03) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/04.mdwn b/archives/2017/04.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..76e7c08
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/04.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=04 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(04) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/05.mdwn b/archives/2017/05.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..678f63a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/05.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=05 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(05) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/06.mdwn b/archives/2017/06.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2887ab6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/06.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=06 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(06) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/07.mdwn b/archives/2017/07.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..0f746b9
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/07.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=07 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(07) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/08.mdwn b/archives/2017/08.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4da2722
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/08.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=08 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(08) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/09.mdwn b/archives/2017/09.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..70f5e1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/09.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=09 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(09) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/10.mdwn b/archives/2017/10.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..04f5435
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/10.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=10 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(10) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/11.mdwn b/archives/2017/11.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..fe53f8d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/11.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=11 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(11) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]
diff --git a/archives/2017/12.mdwn b/archives/2017/12.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bb4a435
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives/2017/12.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!calendar type=month month=12 year=2017 pages="page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="creation_month(12) and creation_year(2017) and page(posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show=0 feeds=no reverse=yes]]

initial commit
diff --git a/.gitignore b/.gitignore
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..eecda60
--- /dev/null
+++ b/.gitignore
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+/.ikiwiki
diff --git a/archives.mdwn b/archives.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d07b73b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/archives.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,8 @@
+[[!if test="archives/*" then="""
+Browse through blog archives by year:
+[[!map pages="./archives/* and !./archives/*/* and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""
+else="""
+You need to use the `ikiwiki-calendar` program to generate calendar-based
+archive pages.
+"""]]
diff --git a/comments.mdwn b/comments.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e22b50a
--- /dev/null
+++ b/comments.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+[[!sidebar content="""
+[[!inline pages="comment_pending(./posts/*)" feedfile=pendingmoderation
+description="comments pending moderation" show=-1]]
+Comments in the [[!commentmoderation desc="moderation queue"]]:
+[[!pagecount pages="comment_pending(./posts/*)"]]
+"""]]
+
+Recent comments on posts in the [[blog|index]]:
+[[!inline pages="./posts/*/Discussion or comment(./posts/*)"
+template="comment"]]
diff --git a/index.mdwn b/index.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..d08446d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/index.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,8 @@
+[[!if test="enabled(sidebar)" then="""
+[[!sidebar]]
+""" else="""
+[[!inline pages=sidebar raw=yes]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="page(./posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show="10"
+actions=yes rootpage="posts"]]
diff --git a/posts.mdwn b/posts.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..2bd0f1d
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+Here is a full list of posts to the [[blog|index]].
+
+[[!inline pages="page(./posts/*) and !*/Discussion" archive=yes feedshow=10 quick=yes trail=yes]]
diff --git a/posts/first_post.mdwn b/posts/first_post.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..bd4c803
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/first_post.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+This is my first post.
diff --git a/posts/second_post.mdwn b/posts/second_post.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..5cc6c38
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/second_post.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+This is the second post to this example blog. To add new posts, just add files to the posts/ subdirectory, or use the web form.
diff --git a/sidebar.mdwn b/sidebar.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..e0895f6
--- /dev/null
+++ b/sidebar.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,10 @@
+[[!if test="enabled(calendar)" then="""
+[[!calendar pages="page(./posts/*) and !*/Discussion"]]
+"""]]
+
+[[Recent Comments|comments]]
+
+[[Archives]]
+
+[[Tags]]:
+[[!pagestats style="list" pages="./tags/*" among="./posts/*"]]
diff --git a/tags.mdwn b/tags.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..b5eca5b
--- /dev/null
+++ b/tags.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+[[!pagestats pages="./tags/*" among="./posts/*"]]
+
+On the right you can see the tag cloud for this blog.