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diff --git a/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn b/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn
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--- a/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn
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 I am visiting with family these next couple days, so Nature gave me gifts to share.
 
-[[!img DSCF1657.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
-[[!img DSCF1663.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2557.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2563.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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+++ b/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn
@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
 I am visiting with family these next couple days, so Nature gave me gifts to share.
 
-[[!img DSCF1657.JPG align="right" size="" alt=""]]
-[[!img DSCF1663.JPG align="right" size="" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF1657.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF1663.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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+++ b/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,4 @@
+I am visiting with family these next couple days, so Nature gave me gifts to share.
+
+[[!img DSCF1657.JPG align="right" size="" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF1663.JPG align="right" size="" alt=""]]

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-I am visiting with family in these next few days, so nature blessed me with gifts to share.
-[[!img DSCF1557.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
-[[!img DSCF1563.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

diff --git a/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn b/posts/Indian_Oyster_Mushroom_Lunch_and_Still_Alive.mdwn
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+I am visiting with family in these next few days, so nature blessed me with gifts to share.
+[[!img DSCF1557.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF1563.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/As_my_Audible_books_become_available.mdwn b/posts/As_my_Audible_books_become_available.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/As_my_Audible_books_become_available.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+...it sure would be good to have some reviews for my books!  No matter who you are, if you write me an email at maggiemargarethess@gmail.com with the subject line "HappyJoy!" or contact me any other way you know how, I will return you with a promotional code that can be used to listen to my book for free, while supplies last.  This is the link to my 3 books.  I would be thrilled if you could write me a review, no matter what you say.  I am intrigued at your words regarding my words, and I am interested to know what you think about the actors I chose to read the books.  My books are short, as in under 10 minutes.  So grab a cup of coffee or tea, sit back, and enjoy the read.  Then be sure to rate my work!

diff --git a/posts/Working_to_Work__44___Vocational_Fruitfulness__44___and_Disability_Guilt.mdwn b/posts/Working_to_Work__44___Vocational_Fruitfulness__44___and_Disability_Guilt.mdwn
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+Growing into activism in my 20's I realized activism is every day, every step.  As a person who gets a disability check, I hear harsh reactions from myriad people.  I must be lazy because I am not working.  I got a degree, clearly I am capable of work, but cheating the system instead.  I could go on and on with these comments I have heard, but I have learned to turn the other cheek, focus on something else, and move on.  
+
+I spoke with someone who professionally works with developmentally disabled students, and he said ALL of the kids he works with misuse some or all of their disability checks, or rather their parents do or the guardian who manages it.  I manage my own money.  My disability is mental illness, a whole other can of worms.  
+
+The lawyer who helped me get disability told me I am very different from all of her other clients.  Her views on most things reflect mine, we both are Quakers, and I wondered why she was so cynical about how so many use their checks. 
+
+I am not a perfect person.  I have had a bankruptcy.  It took me 12 years to complete college, and my supportive family and friends had to endure that.  But I don't think it is healthy to presume misuse, when referring to disabled people and our benefits.  It is a tangled issue. 
+
+I have been using my disability to enjoy peace of mind and to feel the liberty of time, as something I am in charge of, that doesn't own me.  I have friends who work all the time and take care of piles of children (all the time) and barely have a second to care for themselves.  
+
+My disability is a mental illness called schizoaffective disorder type bipolar.  I withdraw when I get over stimulated, which can be from just meeting a new person or doing something new.  Or I get really high energy, and my thoughts go wild.   Sometimes I am aware of being socially different, other times, I let it go.  
+
+Lately, not working, just pursing my life as I do, I have felt more and more well, more and more able to work.  But it is the shifts towards new activities, such as working a new job, that throws me off course.
+
+Earlier in my illness I had to be hospitalized for treatment.  That was 14 years ago.  Now I take medicine and therapy, and am fine.  Medical examiners routinely check up on me to make certain I am not cheating the system.  They always say I am still disabled.  
+
+I do so many things with my life.  I feel I am letting my life speak, as Parker Palmer says.  I am proud of the works and writing and art and swimming and discussions I have had.  I work part time sometimes.  I am trying to quit aspiring to work on over-drive and instead enjoy life.
+
+Sometimes I, while keeping busy, just self care for months at a time, like a retired senior citizen would do.  There is not a big stigma on grandparents, but so many people seem critical of my kind.  
+
+I am one wholesome girl saying not everybody misuses disability income.  Also, if you are disabled, I challenge you to let yourself not listen to the critics you will hear.  Find happiness in the flow of life and be your own guide!
+
+
+
+[[!img eclipes.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Feeling_at_Home_in_an_Old_Church.mdwn b/posts/Feeling_at_Home_in_an_Old_Church.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/Feeling_at_Home_in_an_Old_Church.mdwn
@@ -10,3 +10,6 @@ I had went for a while to an African American church in town.  I had this great
 Before I had attended Quaker Meeting (religiously) at Berea Kentucky.  But it has been so long since I went there, and I want something in my town.  So Sing Emanuel! 
 
 It helps that my Mom makes me proud in church.  She is such a great person for leading new people from the back pews, (me included) in terms of when to sit and stand.  (It gets kind of complicated to know what page all of the service is on!)  Also Mom is great at keeping her tune in tune so I am glad for that because my voice...  varies.
+
+
+[[!img pentacostroses.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Ephemoral_All.mdwn b/posts/Ephemoral_All.mdwn
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+<br>First a little boy skate boards down our street</br>
+<br>then an older brother kind walks down</br>
+<br>hollering to the small last boy to watch for a car.</br>
+<br>Is there a first?  Is there a next?</br>
+<br>Is everything just now?</br>
+
+<br>When examined closely</br>
+<br>I am certain of nothing,</br>
+<br>the closer I look,</br>
+<br>the deeper I dig,</br>
+<br>the less and less I know.</br>
+
+<br>I mourned for life before when I was in college</br>
+<br>after college I mourned for college.</br>
+<br>Now I mourn for the mourning after college.</br>
+<br>Or I look back contemplatively</br>
+<br>realizing I am happier now, just aware.</br>
+
+<br>I have no prescription to lift pain off.</br>
+<br>I must watch not to make offers</br>
+<br>since I am without possessions.</br>
+<br>I remember fearing I would be homeless;</br>
+<br>many times I worry about the evicted.</br>
+
+<br>Maybe.</br>
+<br>Maybe I am just a skater, with a rush</br> 
+<br>of world against my senses.</br>
+<br>Maybe I am just a boy,</br>
+<br>wind chaser, soarer, scabby knees.</br>
+
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2074.JPG align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Feeling_at_Home_in_an_Old_Church.mdwn b/posts/Feeling_at_Home_in_an_Old_Church.mdwn
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+Gazing through stained glass the sun meets my eyes.  Angelic voices float over the pews.
+Two women from the choir part from their seats, serenade us for communion.  I notice that just after the Great Thanksgiving, niceness just gleans from people.  People politely and patiently wait for others to get back to their seat before we file back in.  Something about today at Church lifts any form of existential resistance right away, evaporates any part of my ego that is not complying, and encourages such celebration.  
+
+I put roses in my hair today because I didn't have any red, and it has been a tradition in this church for 5 years for everyone to wear red on Pentacost.  I don't notice during the Sermon really.  I don't know during the picnic afterwards.  But when I am swimming my half mile in the following hours, I realize I have been carrying the resistance of summer humidity.  I have been at odds with going to the pool or doing what is good for myself, until this moment, when I was in church kneeling and praying and thanking goodness.  It started there.  
+
+So maybe I will become one of these "Come to our Episcopal Church Sunday" type people.  Maybe I will read the Bible some day!  LOL  May I if it means this hope and peace extends.
+
+I had went for a while to an African American church in town.  I had this great realization in that service of what God means to me.  I awakened to the fact that the great metaphors of the scripture are best when interpreted inwardly.  That was how I convinced myself to return for the parts of the service I liked best, despite of some feeling of this not being "my" church.  
+
+Before I had attended Quaker Meeting (religiously) at Berea Kentucky.  But it has been so long since I went there, and I want something in my town.  So Sing Emanuel! 
+
+It helps that my Mom makes me proud in church.  She is such a great person for leading new people from the back pews, (me included) in terms of when to sit and stand.  (It gets kind of complicated to know what page all of the service is on!)  Also Mom is great at keeping her tune in tune so I am glad for that because my voice...  varies.

diff --git a/posts/Dreaming_for_Better_Words.mdwn b/posts/Dreaming_for_Better_Words.mdwn
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+A dream can be an ambition or an image of the night and this fact frustrates me because I think each idea needs a separate word.  I know it sounds picky, but it bugs me that the same word, dream, is used to talk about the hopes people have and the night visioning processes that occur.  
+[[!img mt16.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+I guess part of my qualm comes with the fact that I want to talk about my dreams, but most people think, from reading that declaration, that my desire is to talk about aspirations.  What I really want to talk about is the illusion that occurs in the mind at night.  
+[[!img mt7.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+It is not really considered very normal to talk about night dreams.  Goal dreams are fair game, even rewarded conversation matter, but because dreams of the night are such open windows into our mind, many people would rather not bring their personal dreams up in social media or public conversation.  
+[[!img mt10.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+But I am fascinated with my night images and the night images of my friends.  People talk about Trump nightmares, but I think that they only feel liberty to talk about that because they feel a large group of people also are having these same subconscious thoughts.  I wish we didn't have to be so self conscious about these important insightful night dreams.

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diff --git a/posts/Tell_me_WHY_the_US_is_funding_20__37___of_Israel__39__s_Military_budget_while_Gaza_runs_out_of_Water__63____63__.mdwn b/posts/Tell_me_WHY_the_US_is_funding_20__37___of_Israel__39__s_Military_budget_while_Gaza_runs_out_of_Water__63____63__.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,15 @@
+My title asks why the US is funding 20% of Israel's military budget, but the truth is, I have the answer.  
+
+The US is outsourcing military might to Israel, so the Israel killing machine can refine their tools of death, and send what they have learned back to the United States (so the States can take over the world.)
+
+What Trump has been doing lately in Gaza, the escalation of violence, is part of a master scheme by Trump, not only to destroy justice and peace in Gaza, it is a sharpening of weapons for his intent to destroy much of the rest of the world.
+
+The Israeli/Palestinian Conflict seems to be a never ending dispute over a shrinking Gaza strip.  The Palestinians in Gaza strip are locked there, much like a concentration camp.  While doing their laundry, Palestinian people get struck by missiles and tank shards by Israelis, often women and children.  
+
+
+This is my simplified expression of a complicated issue of international conflict, but I think our mutual education is important and the media blackout on Gaza means that ordinary people need to be the ones discussing these issues of Peace and War.
+
+#Speakupforgaza #Gaza
+
+[[!img 2000px-Gaza_Strip_map2.svg.png align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+

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diff --git a/posts/Nursed_Along_Pine_Sapling_and_Other_Dreams.mdwn b/posts/Nursed_Along_Pine_Sapling_and_Other_Dreams.mdwn
index f82aaba..1b4ee83 100644
--- a/posts/Nursed_Along_Pine_Sapling_and_Other_Dreams.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Nursed_Along_Pine_Sapling_and_Other_Dreams.mdwn
@@ -11,7 +11,10 @@ Man gliding on a bike, ringing a bell at me.
 lyric poetry needing a place in yard.
 
 
-[[!img DSCF2452.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
 
 
 [[!img DSCF2457.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2472.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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--- a/posts/Nursed_Along_Pine_Sapling_and_Other_Dreams.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Nursed_Along_Pine_Sapling_and_Other_Dreams.mdwn
@@ -9,3 +9,9 @@ Man gliding on a bike, ringing a bell at me.
 <br>Dreams have vines of plot and character</br>
 <br>tangling up through their petals,</br>
 lyric poetry needing a place in yard.
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2452.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2457.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+<br>Maybe dreams are impressions of times</br>
+<br>that should not be overlooked,</br>
+but planted deep, perennials, Dianthus.  
+
+<br>An exchange of gifts with which</br>
+<br>someone new brings something new into my life.</br>
+Man gliding on a bike, ringing a bell at me.
+
+<br>Dreams have vines of plot and character</br>
+<br>tangling up through their petals,</br>
+lyric poetry needing a place in yard.

diff --git a/posts/Transplants.mdwn b/posts/Transplants.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/Transplants.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,3 @@
+Plants perceive, plants know, plants have great intellect.  Today I began providing temporary harbor to about 20 fugitive plants, thirsty, needing care, though well beloved.  A neighbor is being asked to move and needed a place with a more permanent yard.  I can't imagine how he is finding energy to do all that I have seen this neighbor do, from digging up all of his yard plants, to biking where he has gone.  He has been working for a landscaping business from time to time and picks up otherwise forgotten trace remains of stems without leaves or roots, and nurses them miraculously back to life.  It really is incredible.  So when I took in these 20 undocumented plants resting and waiting in my lawn, I watered them moderately, and my Mother says they reacted happily.  Right now, I am praying these thunderstorms that could possibly happen tomorrow, happen.  Plants give and receive simultaneously.  So in intellect and generosity, plants are just like everybody else.
+
+The neighbor with the plants, I gave him a bike.  It wasn't even mine, I was given the right to give my brother's old bike away.  But seeing my neighbor glide over the street and hearing him ding the bell brought me some joy.  I think that is how all gifts are.  True gifts are equally given and received, in a manner that magnifies the benevolence.  I am so happy now to be more aware of the plant world.  It makes me think about the growing need for rain and equilibrium, as this is what plants need.  They also are just really pretty and unique plants.  I am glad to hold onto them for a while.  

diff --git a/posts/On_the_First_Fifth_of_The_China_Study.mdwn b/posts/On_the_First_Fifth_of_The_China_Study.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/On_the_First_Fifth_of_The_China_Study.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,4 @@
+The leading cause of death in the US  is heart disease.  Cancer comes second.  
+(According to..  science, 47% of men in this country and 38% of women will in their lifetime get cancer.)  The peculiar third place winner is termed Medical care.    Our health care system is the third leading cause of death in the US.    
+
+The book is hugely convincing, but I am kind of tired, and will write more on it later.  

diff --git a/posts/The_China_Study.mdwn b/posts/The_China_Study.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/The_China_Study.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,5 @@
+This afternoon I realized something.  I have been really confused lately regarding what is and what isn't good and healthy to eat.  The narrative of diet and nutrition in this world and especially plentiful, overweight America presents so many opposing stories as truth.  So I went to the book store today with the idea that I can start to correct my education on nutrition.  I have been following my version of the ketogenic diet, and I wanted a book on it, so I didn't need to make stuff up based on a compelling documentary.  No dice.  There were no books on the keto diet, but what attracted my eyes was The China Study by Colin Campbell, a PhD who directed the most comprehensive study of diet, lifestyle, and disease ever done with humans in the history of biomedical research.  
+
+I have read up through the introduction and I gather that the thesis is going to be the following:  major diseases can be prevented and reversed and longevity increased by massively reducing animal protein intake and increasing plant based foods.  
+
+I will keep you updated as I go along.  It is a perfect season for fresh vegetables and fruits...

diff --git a/posts/__34__My_Sister__39__s_Never_Started_a_Mower__34__.mdwn b/posts/__34__My_Sister__39__s_Never_Started_a_Mower__34__.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,7 @@
+My brother says I have never started a mower in my whole life, but actually I used to start our problem mower for my Mom who always mowed with it, until the mower died of old age.
+
+Now I use a "reel" lawn mower, one with neither gas nor electricity.  All the power that goes into this mower comes from brute force.  
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2415.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2429.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/So_Many_Good_Things_Are_Happening__33__.mdwn b/posts/So_Many_Good_Things_Are_Happening__33__.mdwn
new file mode 100644
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/So_Many_Good_Things_Are_Happening__33__.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,18 @@
+I am applying for a Foundation's Grant Money for a local nonprofit!  (I think!  If they still want me to!)  :)
+
+I am selling crafts on ETSY (and Farmers Market upcoming)!
+
+My best ever former Berea College Professor, Libby Falk Jones, English Department, is coming to visit around my birthday to give a photography presentation from her voyage to Antarctica!  Her wonderful quixotic husband Roger will come!
+
+I have adopted an adapted writing technique where I use way too many exclamation points!
+
+I am writing a fiction about a really bad idea that I almost did!  It is turning into a novel, and I am glad it is fiction and not my life!
+
+I am still on this Ketogenic diet, and have lost 5 pounds in 5 days, eating tons of fatty foods like meat and whole milk!
+
+PS  Don't Forget Mother's Day!
+
+
+
+
+[[!img crazyhair.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/I__39__m_Selling_Earrings_on_Etsy.mdwn b/posts/I__39__m_Selling_Earrings_on_Etsy.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/I__39__m_Selling_Earrings_on_Etsy.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,11 @@
+https://www.etsy.com/shop/CrackedNutPress?ref=search_shop_redirect
+
+I am stoked to announce my new shop opening up on Etsy.  So far the earrings are each $20 because they are worth more!  They literally are Hand Crafted Bead Earrings from 2 types of Hundred Year Old Coral: Victorian and Rare Pink.  
+
+Here is one of the nine pairs.
+
+[[!img ear.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+Some day I might list other cheaper earrings, too.  But I am starting with this Victorian line of coral heirloom ones.
+
+To find the website either follow the above link or search "CrackedNutPress" at Etsy.com !!!!

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diff --git a/posts/What_is_something_that_gives_your_life_meaning__44___that_you_can__39__t_imagine_your_life_without_it__63__.mdwn b/posts/What_is_something_that_gives_your_life_meaning__44___that_you_can__39__t_imagine_your_life_without_it__63__.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,33 @@
+Dear Adam and Wren,
+
+<br>I have been writing you both</br>
+taking turns digging into the bedrock
+
+<br>of my Spirit</br>
+through these letters.
+
+<br>Knowing Adam's ears were there</br>
+helped me reflect on being settled
+
+<br>and I needed that wake up</br>
+more than anything.
+
+<br>With Wren I have been loving</br>
+the difficult emotions in myself.
+
+<br>And now, I read a book by Kelly McGonigal</br>
+and I find myself answering the most important questions ever:
+
+<br>"What makes you, you?"</br>
+For me it is my struggle.
+
+<br>Then, "What is something that gives your life meaning,</br>
+that you can't imagine your life without it?"
+
+<br>For me the answer</br>
+is telling my story. 
+
+<br>Thank you for being</br>
+good listeners!
+
+[[!img tobinspirit.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/I_see_so_many_things_no_one_else_can_see_some_of_which_are_even_real..mdwn b/posts/I_see_so_many_things_no_one_else_can_see_some_of_which_are_even_real..mdwn
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+<br>The locust branches</br>
+<br>have always been little men</br>
+<br>that only wear their clothes</br>
+<br>in warmer months.</br>
+
+<br>I see so many things</br>
+<br>no one else can see</br>
+<br>some of which</br>
+<br>are even real.</br>
+
+<br>I wonder about the doves</br>
+<br>descending from above</br>
+<br>a couple I will let</br>
+<br>land so near me as a couplet.</br>
+
+<br>I see so many things</br>
+<br>no one else can see</br>
+<br>some of which</br>
+<br>are even real.</br>
+
+<br>I see poems</br>
+<br>in the rain</br>
+<br>I hear words</br>
+<br>as it falls.</br>
+
+<br>I see so many things</br>
+<br>no one else can see</br>
+<br>some of which</br>
+<br>are even real.</br>
+
+<br>Do you know of something</br> 
+<br>like the wind</br>
+<br>that we can't see</br>
+<br>that might be real?</br>

Added a comment: that means a lot! thank you!
diff --git a/posts/On_the_Fleeting_Nature_of_Rain/comment_2_4ea5811a56ef76e65aee5726eb0f5775._comment b/posts/On_the_Fleeting_Nature_of_Rain/comment_2_4ea5811a56ef76e65aee5726eb0f5775._comment
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@@ -0,0 +1,9 @@
+[[!comment format=mdwn
+ username="maggiemargarethess@78015320cd96dc052b86f45ba7a77ac2c0aaa5a7"
+ nickname="maggiemargarethess"
+ avatar="http://cdn.libravatar.org/avatar/61b9ea3a9064e12dbcc6ed88724c1640"
+ subject="that means a lot!  thank you!"
+ date="2018-05-07T11:44:58Z"
+ content="""
+Probably would have made my ramblings on the telephone more understandable if I had let you read this prior to talking!
+"""]]

diff --git a/posts/Five_things_I_Forgive.mdwn b/posts/Five_things_I_Forgive.mdwn
index bddd5bd..d8b6ea4 100644
--- a/posts/Five_things_I_Forgive.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Five_things_I_Forgive.mdwn
@@ -13,7 +13,7 @@ I went to the Episcopal church today and cried when the passing of George Bunn w
 
 4
 
-[[!img silhouettemancropped.jpg align="right" size="" alt=""]]
+[[!img silhouettemancropped.jpg align="right" size="x300" alt=""]]
 I forgave those who see things differently from how I do.  I used to think I could teach and change everyone into seeing the world the way I do.  No longer do I want to do that.  It can be hard with confederate flag wavers to not be angry with them.  So maybe I am still working on this somewhat.  But I have forgiven a lot of them.
 
 
@@ -24,4 +24,4 @@ I forgave impatient people though I find them challenging.  They are forgiven.
 
 
 
-[[!img thegalumpdt.JPG align="right" size="" alt=""]]
+[[!img thegalumpdt.JPG align="right" size="x300" alt=""]]

diff --git a/posts/Five_things_I_Forgive.mdwn b/posts/Five_things_I_Forgive.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,27 @@
+1
+[[!img maggie.jpg align="right" size="x300" alt=""]]
+I forgave myself.  I forgave myself for not following the instructions this time.  This is not a list just about myself.  I forgave myself radically.  Today I am listing five whom I have forgiven, one of them myself.  I forgave myself because the truth of my spirit is not always what I speak.  Too often I find I am speaking and it is not of the spirit at all.  Enunciations to impress others or convince myself that I am worthy are instead what I find myself making.  But what I have been trying in this blog and in my life is to speak the truth of spirit in what I do.  The more I try, the better I get at it.  
+
+2
+[[!img 1974momanddaddy.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+I forgave my parents for divorcing.  That is past tense.  Right when they divorced my decision was to never blame them for having to split.  That decision likely came with the help of therapy and sibling guidance.  They were better off apart because they were not happy together.  That simple.
+
+3
+[[!img cardinalpair.jpeg align="right" size="250x" alt=""]]
+I forgave the dead.  Maybe this seems a nonsubject, but people do harbor anger for the dead.  But deep in me I have a decree of forgiveness for those who have passed.  I have heard of perfect angels dying and people can't get over their loss, so they blame the person.  I lost someone recently and he was the most kind loving acquaintance I have ever known.  But I would never blame Reverend Bunn for dying.
+I went to the Episcopal church today and cried when the passing of George Bunn was referenced.  I sang off key so I tried to balance my desire to express with the need for proper notes that others might feel.  I forgive.  The sermon said that in order to be a good Christian "we" must accept the kindness of others that are different from us.  So across cultures, despite differences, because of the differences, we are to accept others.  We must be welcomed into the homes of strangers, and welcome in the strangers, and eat the keto diet if we end up in that home, or go vegan if that is the home we land.  So my heart - if I listen for it - says I need to take this kindness of strangers.  That is true, and it is an interesting truth.  Going into the home of someone different from you, their custom might be poverty or grief.  They might offer you a hug or their last bread, and it is right to take it.  That taking can be just as tremendous an act of kindness as the giving. 
+
+4
+
+[[!img silhouettemancropped.jpg align="right" size="" alt=""]]
+I forgave those who see things differently from how I do.  I used to think I could teach and change everyone into seeing the world the way I do.  No longer do I want to do that.  It can be hard with confederate flag wavers to not be angry with them.  So maybe I am still working on this somewhat.  But I have forgiven a lot of them.
+
+
+5 
+
+I forgave impatient people though I find them challenging.  They are forgiven.
+
+
+
+
+[[!img thegalumpdt.JPG align="right" size="" alt=""]]

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Added a comment: Such a powerful poem!
diff --git a/posts/On_the_Fleeting_Nature_of_Rain/comment_1_185e9fcaf3e6cab96633094bf1cc3147._comment b/posts/On_the_Fleeting_Nature_of_Rain/comment_1_185e9fcaf3e6cab96633094bf1cc3147._comment
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@@ -0,0 +1,8 @@
+[[!comment format=mdwn
+ username="Anna"
+ avatar="http://cdn.libravatar.org/avatar/d5b69064a44ce4ff049393141d328632"
+ subject="Such a powerful poem!"
+ date="2018-05-06T14:24:14Z"
+ content="""
+I really enjoyed this one.
+"""]]

diff --git a/posts/Dear_Kim_Jong_Un_and_Donald_Trump__44__.mdwn b/posts/Dear_Kim_Jong_Un_and_Donald_Trump__44__.mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,8 @@
+When the headline reads "North Korea Says US Pressure Was Not The Reason For Its Denuclearization Promise" it just reminds me of children fighting on a playground.  One child owns fifty percent of the military might in the whole world and he is a bully.  The other child has that thing that the other child wants, the ability to also blow up all Earth's life with one press of a button.  Give or take.  It doesn't really matter that the one child has all the might since he is no more powerful than this crazy child who also has all the power, maybe, if the technology functions for him that day.  So the children finally "agree to disagree" or to hold off on mass annihilation.  Neither of the boys seem mentally clear thinking because it is not toy cars they play with.  It's the life of people. 
+
+If they were adults, and clear thinking, and doing the right thing, they wouldn't have to torment each other and prove they were more powerful than the other.  There is something bigger than this argument you are having together:  the world.  The world needs you to turn the other cheek.  Being able to walk away, whoever can do that first and not return to the argument, makes the real winner.
+
+Think of this, if you become a peace candidate, you will perhaps even be more able to win another election, like to be mayor of a small right wing town.
+
+
+[[!img ogresarereal.JPG align="right" size="x300" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/I_am_Alive__33____33____Heightened_Awareness_After_a_Fall..mdwn b/posts/I_am_Alive__33____33____Heightened_Awareness_After_a_Fall..mdwn
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@@ -0,0 +1,17 @@
+<br>Humpty dumpty sat on a wall</br>
+<br>Humpty dumpty had a great fall.</br>
+<br>All the King's horses </br>
+<br>and all the King's men</br>
+<br>couldn't put Humpty together again.</br>
+
+<br>But we humans are not eggs</br>
+<br>we with names like Meg and Peg</br>
+<br>hold in our names a different story</br>
+<br>That frankly</br>
+<br>harbors higher glory.</br>
+
+<br>It is our falls</br>
+<br>off human walls</br>
+<br>for people</br>
+<br>that makes us resilient</br>
+<br>which is why we're so brilliant.</br>

diff --git a/posts/What_is_Compassion__44___again__63__.mdwn b/posts/What_is_Compassion__44___again__63__.mdwn
new file mode 100644
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/What_is_Compassion__44___again__63__.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,35 @@
+When we diet or alter our nutritional intake from what we used to consider normal, our body feels a change, but our mind and spirit also feels different.  So I find myself having a wakeful period at a time when I ordinarily would be deep in slumber.    I am not sure if my body is in ketosis yet, which is where the majority of the metabolizing is of fat instead of carbohydrates.  And it could be this abundant night energy is partially coming just from eaten too much unsweetened chocolate which can stimulate me.  Either way, it is not the ordinary for my body and it is not what my mind and spirit is used to.
+
+So I find myself thinking back to college, which by coincidence I graduated six years ago today.  At first I was thinking about Autobiography class and how when I took that class I felt some of the students and a professor I ended up adoring seemed to be judging me.  Of all confusing and concerning things, a few of the students who didn't know me well asked me outright if I am a "sociopath" and they were being sincere.  I was in the process of writing about going to a mental ward and being diagnosed as bipolar, which then was my diagnosis.  These students wanted to hear about my memoir, and then asked me if I am a sociopath.  
+
+Back then, and in part now, I have had this thing about that label.  I find it to be one that casts people out, and I don't always see the redeeming value of applying it to someone, even if it may be true.  For me it definitely isn't, but I will get to that.  So then I had asked the professor if I could stay in her empty basement because I was borderline without a home at that point.  And she said sure.  Then she was the professor of that class, Autobiography, and she wanted me to explain a little more in response to the students who were stigmatizing me with that untrue definition.  
+
+The thing about the sociopath definition is I feel people cringe when it is said, and I know people hurt one another all the time.  Yes, it is true, there is a reason to fear strangers and sociopaths, I guess, and yes, as my home care nurse informed me on the only visit she ever made, I guess about 15 percent of all people are classified this way, and yes, sure, maybe it is a useful classification for diagnosticians.
+
+But the diagnosticians all know I like people, I am kind to people, I try to be.  I fail miserably sometimes.  I can be very insensitive, and possibly because I might have some autism, and then there is the schizoaffective type bipolar disorder, that I used to call bipolar because that was then the diagnosis.  But people who really study this stuff know I am good at heart and big hearted.  Nice to animals.  All that.  
+
+So here I was feeling quite burdened in Autobiography class, and I tried to hold my own.  I felt so many of those questions just came to me because I was talking so openly about my mental illness, my time in the mental ward, so on.  And that felt like stigma, though in part, maybe it was just curiosity.  Or not knowing.
+
+So flash forward a bit.  Still at college, my last semester, another professor was my acting advisor, Kate Egerton.  I remember exactly what she said in one of our meetings.  I forget how it came up but she said "There can never be too much compassion."  And it stuck with me.
+
+Then the next time I had an advising session, I came in with something heavy on my mind.  And I guess she could see it.  So Kate asked what was up, after we decreed that it was okay that I didn't have any real plans after graduation other than to graduate.  
+
+I go "I am not sure I know what compassion really is."  It felt tricky to admit, like I had been ignoring the most important thing in the world, I could have looked deeper into it, but I just was not ready or interested yet.
+
+So Kate turns on her monitor, and I watch her across the desk.  She reads this brilliant manifesto sentence, that I am certain must come from her favorite guru or the Dali Lama's blog or something.  "Compassion motivates people to go out of their way to help the physical, mental or emotional pains of another and themselves."  Of course, the source is wikipedia.  
+
+The next time I see Kate, I'm worried because I am not sure I really know the difference between empathy and compassion.  I am not sure if all of her advising appointments go this way, but I ask, and she says I am really digging into a question she posed to all her students.  
+
+"Compassion involves "feeling for another" and is a precursor to empathy, the "feeling as another" capacity for better person centered acts of active compassion; in common parlance active compassion is the desire to alleviate another's suffering."  I found that language a little clunky.  I don't think that the difference between compassion and empathy could be as simple as the distinction between "for" and "as" especially considering all of the recent hub hub about self compassion.
+
+I really resonated with this sentence on compassion.  "Compassion involves allowing ourselves to be moved by suffering, and experiencing the motivation to help alleviate and prevent it."  
+
+So then six years passed and I read a whole lot about self compassion.  And I thought a lot about self compassion.  You even could buy my Amazon book and upcoming Audible book on compassion (Heart Whispering).  
+
+Part of what I am trying to understand tonight is how to be more compassionate in my daily life.  I think it almost takes an extracurricular activity, personally.  I thought about volunteering for one of 2 possibly nonprofits, but I haven't figured out how to start that yet.  The other major thing is just being as compassionate as I can be inwardly and outwardly in every course of my life, to remember to be sensitive and to invest my action in kindness.  
+
+Right now, for all parties, that means getting back to bed as soon as I can.  
+
+
+
+

diff --git a/posts/On_the_Fleeting_Nature_of_Rain.mdwn b/posts/On_the_Fleeting_Nature_of_Rain.mdwn
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+<br>I am experiencing</br>
+<br>the ebbs and flows of</br>
+<br>a thunder storm.</br>
+<br>A body</br>
+<br>of water</br>
+<br>dripping and plopping</br>
+<br>down.</br>
+
+<br>I am witnessing this storm</br>
+<br>with my</br> 
+<br>two ears.</br>
+<br>The rumbling thunder,</br>
+<br>the cars passing</br>
+<br>through puddles,</br>
+<br>the cheerful birds.</br>
+
+<br>It has been raining</br> 
+<br>in spurts.</br>
+<br>The last one wet the grass,</br>
+<br>made muddy</br>
+<br>patches in the side yard.</br>
+<br>I know.</br>  
+<br>I dived down the side yard</br>
+<br>on my way from there</br>
+<br>to here.</br>
+
+<br>And when I found myself alive</br>
+<br>though in pain</br>
+<br>and bloody</br>
+<br>I found myself laughing</br>
+<br>before I could think of anything</br>
+<br>as trivial as blood.</br>
+
+<br>Falling on my nose,</br>
+<br>doing a graceful,</br>
+<br>though quite accidental</br> 
+<br>swan dive</br> 
+<br>down the bank in the side yard</br>
+<br>reminded me</br> 
+<br>more than anything else</br>
+<br>of my age.</br>
+
+<br>Age really is something.</br>
+<br>I know because</br>
+<br>recently I asked my brother</br>
+<br>what happened to make</br> 
+<br>him so kind lately.</br>
+<br>Is there something new?</br>
+<br>Or newsworthy?</br>
+<br>He just said he is older.</br>
+
+<br>I know the feeling.</br>
+<br>I know how it was</br>
+<br>when I could catch a fall</br>
+<br>and turn it into a gymnastics stunt</br>
+<br>or thud on my butt with great intention.</br>
+
+<br>Rain is so fleeting.</br>
+<br>Everything passes with time.</br>
+<br>There is not a single thing that is permanent.</br>
+<br>So I don't go praying for dry land.</br>
+<br>I just re-pot my peppers and tomatoes</br>
+<br>and if I pray</br>
+<br>I let that planting motion be my prayer.</br>
+
+
+
+[[!img rainscarce.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/What_Makes_You__44___You__63__.mdwn b/posts/What_Makes_You__44___You__63__.mdwn
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+I dug deep into this question and thought about the unique thing that makes me me.  The first ideas I came up with were not very deep.  I came to gratitude early too, and though gratitude is a super purposeful venture, it is not what I am trying to burrow into today.  These positive emotions like wonder or courage or gratitude are great to nourish.  But today I want to think more about the most negative feeling we have because when I think hard - I realize it our suffering is what shapes us.  We all suffer in different ways, whether you suffer most with an external issue like trying to provide income for a household, or if the majority of you suffering is internal such as feeling worried all the time.  Maybe you don't know how to recognize your suffering, but if you look at yourself and think about the forest of your life story you might be able to see past the trees of this moment.  
+
+What makes me me is that I have been through what I have been through.  Let your darkest moments nourish those roots.
+
+[[!img waxingcat.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Killing_Jealousy_with_Love.mdwn b/posts/Killing_Jealousy_with_Love.mdwn
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+I haven't shared this with you, I don't think.  But I have been feeling very deep spite towards so many of the people in my life for such a long time, I have trouble finding the origin.  I have had some periods of not hating everybody important to me (and everyone else) but the fact is, those periods fell off.  So where I find myself now is...  today.
+
+Today I started the ketogenic diet and am reading Choose to Change by Kelly McGonigal PhD.  Today I pinned the nose on that spite with another word that seems to define the feeling most intricately - jealousy.  See, my feelings about other people have been a mix - an ambivalent fire of extremes, love and hate.  The jealousy has been so strong,  I have been skipping social occasions.  I skipped a birthday of a family friend largely because many of the people I know who would have been there bring up this feeling of jealousy in me.    The jealousy made me not want to go to my family beach trip or hold a job or interact with animals that also talk more than a passing neighborly "hello". 
+
+Jealousy is a terribly hard emotion for me because I have a different life path than every other person I know.  I am not a career person or a homesteader, I don't have kids, I have little to show for myself if it comes to measuring up and adding up and holding myself against the other people in the line up. 
+
+So I am trying to figure out how to love my jealousy now that I have named it.  I think it would be good to talk about it with the people, really everyone I encounter, because it is part of all my relationships.  But I am not sure how that would go over.  My jealousy is around because it wants me to feel like I am seen and heard.  It wants me to feel important and respected.  Somehow, it is here for the greater good.  I can't go around hating everybody, especially not the people closest to me.  Maybe the ketogenic diet will help.  It is supposed to kill cancer and diabetes.  Maybe it will also, with love, kill my jealousy.

diff --git a/posts/Ketogenic_Diet.mdwn b/posts/Ketogenic_Diet.mdwn
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+The “keto” in a ketogenic diet comes from the fact that it makes the body produce small fuel molecules called “ketones”.2
+This is an alternative fuel for the body, used when blood sugar (glucose) is in short supply.
+
+Ketones are produced if you eat very few carbs (that are quickly broken down into blood sugar) and only moderate amounts of protein (excess protein can also be converted to blood sugar).
+
+Ketones are produced in the liver, from fat. They are then used as fuel throughout the body, including the brain. The brain is a hungry organ that consumes lots of energy every day, and it can’t run on fat directly. It can only run on glucose… or ketones.3
+
+On a ketogenic diet, your entire body switches its fuel supply to run almost entirely on fat. Insulin levels become very low, and fat burning increases dramatically. It becomes easy to access your fat stores to burn them off. This is great if you’re trying to lose weight, but there are also other less obvious benefits, such as less hunger and a steady supply of energy, keeping you alert and focused.
+
+When the body produces ketones, it’s said to be in ketosis. The fastest way to get there is by fasting – not eating anything – but nobody can fast forever.
+
+A keto diet, on the other hand, can be eaten indefinitely and also results in ketosis. It has many of the benefits of fasting – including weight loss – without having to fast.
+
+https://www.dietdoctor.com/low-carb/keto for more information.

diff --git a/posts/A_Sunday_in_the_Country.mdwn b/posts/A_Sunday_in_the_Country.mdwn
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+<br>Don't stop for the freight train parked,</br>
+<br>where tourists take pictures on the state line,</br>
+<br>instead turn right.</br>
+
+<br>Let yourself be surprised by the flight</br>
+<br>of a great blue heron, gliding beside us</br>
+<br>or following the track to another stream.</br>
+
+<br>Crossing the bridge,</br>
+<br>bump on uneven pavement,</br>
+<br>embody leaving the city.</br>
+
+<br>Meander out into the country,</br>
+<br>make an unplanned visit to an old neighbor</br>
+<br>couple's grave, pink flower and cross.</br>
+
+<br>Pass through unknown wild flowers</br>
+<br>on road rutted on either side</br>
+<br>some island.</br>
+
+<br>Feel the flowers.</br>
+<br>Smell them, a green scent -</br>
+<br>soft.  Proclaim it.</br>
+
+<br>Let your dog run where there </br>
+<br>used to be a trestle bridge.</br>
+<br>Pick remarkable flat rock treasures.  Buckeye sapling.</br>
+
+<br>Now the road will have forks many.</br>
+<br>Park at the old store and let your dog find water</br>
+<br>in the creek by the wedding catalpa.</br>
+
+<br>Here is a fork.</br>
+<br>Go towards the nearest stray barn cat.</br>
+<br>Hope she has a home.</br>
+
+<br>Black kitty disappears into grasses.</br>
+<br>Realize perspective.</br>
+<br>Realizing you too disappear, around bends.</br>
+
+<br>Pass a woman walking two black dogs</br>
+<br>and imagine who she is.  Guess.</br>
+<br>Park by the river, Holston.</br>
+
+<br>Walk and tune in to what you hear, flowing water.</br>
+<br>There is a field of buttercups.</br>
+<br>What is that a reishi mushroom?</br>
+
+<br>Err on the side of caution, but smell that?</br>
+<br>If a scent could be a miracle, it is.</br>
+<br>A mixture of fresh air, humus, and something deeper.</br>
+
+<br>Now let your dog know</br>
+<br>you are going home</br>
+<br>where your memory holds on to a phlox perfume.</br>

diff --git a/posts/One_Reply_from_a_Geography_Professor.mdwn b/posts/One_Reply_from_a_Geography_Professor.mdwn
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+A sinkhole is quite possible. There are many hundreds in the Bristol area. Let me note that some sinkholes are stable for centuries and no threat to the buildings in and around them, because water is no longer significantly dissolving the rocks below.  A sinkhole can therefore be lived with. One part of a sinkhole May be active, in fact, while another is stable, in the time scale we humans have to work with.
+But other sinkholes are a serious problem, and weter than average weather over a period of years can make the surface unstable at a rapid rate.
+Also, I should ask you to broaden your view about the changing surface. There is much limestone in Bristol, and some of it is dissolving in ways fast enough that you can see as an observant resident, so that causes some walls to fall in some places. But it does not necessarily mean there is a sinkhole there. It still might damage your house! So you don’t need a sinkhole to have a geological problem.
+I would bring in an expert, if you know one or know someone who knows one. I am afraid I am not an expert, and I do not know any.
+I do hope this helps some!
+Ed

diff --git a/posts/Sinkhole_Home.mdwn b/posts/Sinkhole_Home.mdwn
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+This morning I noticed that some new cracks appeared in the basketball court in back of my mother's house.  The court is just off of State Street, McDowell St is parallel, and our home and yard and a dog yard are in the bottom land between the higher up State Street and the elevated McDowell St.  Many times I have looked at our back yard and thought, well we are very low down, I wonder if a sink hole could be possible?  Now on the Virginia side, nearby, there is a rock wall that has fallen to pieces rather suddenly and is actually blockading a small alley near the East Hill Cemetery.  Our house is cinder brick and has some cracks in the brick.  But I am not worried about cosmetic cracks, just major issues like sinkhole potential. 
+
+Do you think there is reason for concern?

diff --git a/posts/The_Revolution__33__.mdwn b/posts/The_Revolution__33__.mdwn
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+Not sure if you know that my Mom was in the strike at Columbia 50 years ago?  Democracy Now recently did some interesting coverage of that momentous civil disobedience.  I was so proud to watch it with my Mom, who kept thinking she might recognize people in the crowd of protesting students.  She didn't know Mark Rudd too personally but was very close with other resisters.  It occurred to me that I wanted to talk about this with you, when I watched the piece on Democracy Now.  Also, Juan Gonzalez, Amy Goodman's co-anchor, began his career in justice there at Columbia, and there was footage of that.  I am fascinated by that time that my Mom lived through.  She was a pretty privileged white woman in it, and a graduate student, which meant that she was not locked in the building.  But she was on the sidewalk during the protest.  She says she came home the first day to Mary Larsen and Ruth Sheriff - other graduate students who she was living with - and remembers saying what she saw, and Ruth goes "It's the Revolution!"  I think that is intriguing because on Democracy they talked about the white black issues on campus and how much of the protest was for the black and brown students who did not think of it as a revolution at all, very specifically they said.  Of course if your life depends on a protest, you don't have the privilege to think of it so casually.  But this time did also change Mom's life.  She didn't complete her degree at Columbia, and rather moved South with another striker, Geoff Green, and a few other people with the back to the land movement.  She moved to Mendota Virginia, of all places, in pursuit of real people in their natural habitat, or something like that. 
+
+
+My life has had some similar nearness to civil disobedience, and some of the people in parts of my life were like my versions of Mom's friends.  Specifically, when I was involved in early meetings of Mountain Justice, I did one thing that might have made a ripple effect and convinced some of its people to keep that movement nonviolent.    Both Mom and I were marginal cast outs in our social groups and that interests me too, as I read social scientists say all people feel cast out in the early parts of socializations.  

diff --git a/posts/Think_Global__44___Vote_Local.mdwn b/posts/Think_Global__44___Vote_Local.mdwn
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+Sullivan County, Tennessee
+
+“Think Global, Act Local.” It is much more than a bumper sticker, it is a methodology for making the world better, much like Gandhi's “Be the change.” These little axioms exist for a reason. It is beneficial that they lodge so easily in the minds of idealistic youths as they are ideas worth having and thinking and mulling over.
+
+
+Lately I have been increasingly opposed to seeing the world through a black and white lens. Most things and people have something good and something bad about them. I used to be more extremely focused on doing the right thing until the Puritanism approach about killed me with guilt for things that really don’t matter. I still vote though. I think sometimes the most powerful act can be just to vote local, and very few people vote in local elections, so you have more impact than you might think.
+
+
+This time around, I am voting for a list of Republicans. Most people who know me know I loved Bernie Sanders when he ran, though not many know me intimately enough to know I harbor no self hatred for the fact Trump got in. Anyway, I mention Bernie, so you will know I am pro-environment, pro-working person, in favor of local policies that help poor people with property tax relief, and will always vote against gun toting kinds.
+
+
+So here is the ballot I have decided on. There are no Democrats in contention this time, so why should Democrats kill their own votes? Democrats need to vote Republican in certain situations, as do people who identify as Green and Libertarian.
+
+
+Don’t lose your local vote! Vote Venable, Whitaker, Ramsey, Austin, Forgety, Jacobs, Bilgari, Hutton, Akard. 

diff --git a/posts/An_Enthusiasm_for_couchsurfing.com.mdwn b/posts/An_Enthusiasm_for_couchsurfing.com.mdwn
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+Lately I have been rekindling and cultivating an enthusiasm for couchsurfing.com  My experience with couchsurfing is that it is the antithesis of airbnb.  I had an amazingly bad experience at my one airbnb site.  Well, it wasn't _that_ bad.  It could have been much worse.  I was in Costa Rica so it really was a worthwhile bad experience.  The host depended on tourists for his whole income and seemed super burnt out on us.  I reviewed him highly though I found him horrible because I felt sorry for him and because I had sat on a flimsy chair in my room and it had broken and I hadn't tried anything to mend the situation.  So I was in the wrong.  But he responded with a terrible one star review siting the chair, which really should have been sturdier!  It was the only chair and I didn't feel comfortable using the main part of his house, though it was on limits, because he was irate and rude the whole time!!!  (This is not you average Tico or Costa Rican native.  They mostly are incredibly kind, polite, and friendly!)  I feel bad that he was spread so thin and I did break the chair and not offer to repair or refund for it.  And I feel sorry for that.
+
+Anyway, go back in time even more.  My first and only time I ever stayed on a formally couchsurfing hook up was entirely different.  It was my first time visiting Berea College where I got my degree.  I thought it would be a neat thing to stay there the first time as a couchsurfer, and noticed that Erin Finsel happened to have the SENS (sustainability) house up for possible couchsurfers.  I was treated with so much love and respect on that trip, welcomed into her group of friends almost at once, and that same strand of friends ended up being my own friends in school.  It was incredible.  
+
+[[!img berea_sens_house.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+Those are memories though.  In reality I was like a deer in the headlights looking at all these new things and people with bewilderment and over-stimulation.  By then I knew that is how I respond to new circumstances.  But it was a challenge.  
+
+I have always thought of robins as a totem animal and on that trip, I saw a dead one in the SENS parking lot.  Robin is also a middle name, one of my two names in the middle.  It penetrated my heart so deeply to see the dead robin, but I was glad to be in the company of people who seemed to "get" the deep kinship with the Earth.  They probably got it more than I do to be honest.
+
+So having the comfort of a good night's sleep allowed me the ability to have a good stay in Berea, Kentucky, and that visit ultimately transformed my life because graduating college was the best thing I have done so far.
+
+I remember eating breakfast at BCand T.  My favorite biscuit with egg and cheese and sausage.  I am positive it was Paul Scott who served me that biscuit.  Probably one of my first other Berea friendships.  
+
+The people I find on couchsurfing are more of a niche of people that I am likely to like.  They open their homes with generosity wanting nothing but comrades, even knowing chairs might break.  It is the generosity in the interaction that makes me write this plug for couchsurfing.  Plus I really love the niche of people it draws.  If you haven't looked into it, I hope you will consider adding an account there.  It can be a great way to travel or to feel the life of the big world from the safeness of your home.

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diff --git a/posts/How_to_Love___40____63____41___Self__44___Others__44___Generally.mdwn b/posts/How_to_Love___40____63____41___Self__44___Others__44___Generally.mdwn
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+Wren was the one who put the bee in my bonnet to love that which hurts me, even if it is a component of my own mind that seems to rest in hardness, find sanctuary in suffering.  
+
+Thing is, that brings something up for me.  I tend to be specific and want definitions of terms.  Well what is it to love?  I ask.
+
+I mean how do you love?  I suppose we do what comes natural to us.  For me, children and babies are the easiest people to love in the world.  So cradle the self hatred in your arms as you would a child and you will be loving the hatred.  True.  But what are other ways to love?
+
+Thinking can be loving.  Like my mother is notorious for caring about suffering of others in terms of national and international news.  It drives me crazy, because I am in a nonjudgement phase.  I am in a phase that doesn't want to see black or white, and to instead just see gray shades.
+
+Love can be looking out for others, their emotions, and in turn, looking in for yourself.  
+
+It is an interesting question that I am just beginning to think over.
+
+
+I swam my third mile this week, well three consecutive days.  I swam the third one moments ago, hair still wet.
+
+I would love comments from authorities on love, people who don't know how to love, or professional trainers, or any combination of those.

diff --git a/posts/Responding_to_The_Process___64___taramandala.org.mdwn b/posts/Responding_to_The_Process___64___taramandala.org.mdwn
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+Wren suggested a website for me:  https://taramandala.org/about-kapala-training/the-process/
+
+I am eating The Process website piece by piece like the beginning of a candy addiction for a young child who has never before had sugar or chocolate, but gets them both together this Easter season.
+
+So I am savoring it very slowly and have just read the first bit, but I am coming back to often, to read another sentence or section.  Amazing!
+
+The most interesting thing I ever read was also about demons.  I think it was in a book by Tara Brach but I never relocated it. 
+
+I once had this vivid dream that there was a demon standing over my head, a gnarly little black man.  I screamed and my Mom actually came in, turned on the light and woke me up, and the man was not there.
+
+I then eventually would read this thing about how in some other ethnic tradition we all have four demons who watch over us and protect us.  I loved the turn in that, thinking that my little black man might have been fending off enemies.
+
+I love incorporating The Process in these thoughts I have on demons.

diff --git a/posts/Day_2__44___Mile_2.mdwn b/posts/Day_2__44___Mile_2.mdwn
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+I wrote one of the best things I have ever written in my head while swimming a mile this morning.  When I emerged, I got to put it down on paper, though it always comes out in varied form from "the original".  It will hopefully be my 3rd part in the Hoodwinked Vignettes series to come out in Dead Mule School of Southern Literature.  The second airs in September and the first is here:  http://www.deadmule.com/maggie-hess-hoodwinked-vignettes-fiction/  I love that my fiction is coming out in chapter series, like Charles Dickens did in the publication of some of his works.  And it is one of the most fun things I have ever written.  Actually, writing it is making me want to read fiction, which I used to do a lot more than I do now.  Writing can be a gateway drug to "high"er literacy.  (How's that for some 420 punnery?)
+
+Anyway, in the water I began a strange realization.  I have spent a long time studying the impermanence of one country dirt road near a waterfall, and in those reflections, I see my own changing person, the individual evolution of who I am.  But strangely, I had not done much thinking around the idea that others are changing every second too.  I knew it was true, naturally, but I never really delved into it as a concept.  
+
+I am not going to be able to put all of my thoughts on this in this entry, but as I lapped, I saw not only the lanes change in terms of who was swimming, but I think I saw a young boy sitting on a bench grow a half an inch while a large man in the center lap lane lost four pounds!  Then in an instant, it wasn't me who saw it, it was a part of us, we were all unified in our fleeting nature.  The voice of one laughed itself into oblivion.  There was no more "I" just the collective "we".

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@@ -0,0 +1,4 @@
+Anna said she tries to walk until her brain goes still.  She asked me a really good question about whether my mile swim was comparable to a 45 minute walk.  I know there are all kinds of quantitative measurements that can be made from calories burned to heart beat per minute over time.  But qualitatively, the land leaves something to be desired.  In the water, the mind becomes another animal entirely.  Maybe I become a fish brain, but that is all right with me.  Yes, more stillness enters as the swim continues.  But the slowing of thoughts comes immediately for me, because of variables like less oxygen and the fact I am surrounded by depth.  Some argue that the thoughts are not slower but more clear.  I think they are slow and clear too.  
+
+A lot of people are not fish people.  When I went to Berea, I realized that many people don't even know how to swim, because it was a requirement to swim the length of the pool there before graduating, and many people were intimidated by it.  Swimming is a privilege to know how to do yet it seems the most natural activity a person can possibly achieve.  I hope today's enthusiasm carries over into many upcoming miles.
+

diff --git a/posts/Settle_in_and_Settle.mdwn b/posts/Settle_in_and_Settle.mdwn
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+I have been enjoying Alix Generous, an outspoken woman with Aspergers, and advocate for neurodiversity, science, and unique minds.  She has an incredible sense of humor and I split a gut laughing at her TED talk.  I went to her website and found other videos and have been taking them one by one, slowly.  As I watch, I am certain I too am on the Autism spectrum.  It is interesting because I know that many women especially are misdiagnosed with another mental illness, like bipolar, when they possibly just have Aspergers.  I think in my case I probably do have a dual diagnosis, because medications have worked for me, or at least they keep me from the worst of the suffering. 
+
+But I am still feeling the disabling nature of mental illness.  I live in a world where I push myself to be like others, and that often means I pursue something outside of myself, like trying to go to graduate school or wanting to do something that I can tell others I have done, like taking a surfing workshop in San Diego.  The thing is, I really am just barely getting along/by much of the time.  I am just holding my head above water.  These attempts "out" or at proving myself are really self defeating.  Looking into intentional communities in Missouri, planning to intern with my friend in her homestead in the Ozarks, no matter how noble the cause, my plans are too much.  I am best if I just "am disabled" and stay in Bristol.  The best thing I can do for me is to swim every day at the YMCA, do my chores religiously, be sure and walk the dogs each day, and relax on the front porch as a meditative ritual. 
+
+If I stretch my pennies, I almost can make it work out with the pennies that I stretch.  The disability check is not much, but all of these pursuits that I conventionally have been trying for to try to be more worthy are making me less happy.  I am the same person no matter what I do.  I could climb Kilimanjaro but I would still be me.  I could not climb anything and I would once again be the same person I was when I started.  Proving myself, living up to a standard I have in my mind of success based on able bodied people I know is not worth my time. 
+
+I can write.  I write.  I can meditate.  I mediate.  I can swim.  I swim.  I can do silly art that rare kind people adore.  I do art.  I also can do art that sits in a folder and collects dust.  I do. 
+
+This that I am telling you is what I need to tell myself.  You are the kind of person who draws that out of someone, so you should be proud.  I am going to write a version of this and post it all over my house, in front of my computer where I often "surf" plane tickets and get away plans. 
+
+I'll put one on my mirror too.  Here is the whole point.  We don't escape here.  If we dig our heals into what and who we are, into where we are, if we settle in and sometimes just settle, we stop fighting and peace wins.  If peace wins in us than we do become the joyful person we really wanted in the first place.

diff --git a/posts/Swimming_Uphill.mdwn b/posts/Swimming_Uphill.mdwn
index 1ef6dff..a8a6d96 100644
--- a/posts/Swimming_Uphill.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Swimming_Uphill.mdwn
@@ -8,3 +8,8 @@ I start thinking about my mile in terms of a familiar walk, the dog walk I like
 also feel the wonderful water, and see the world that actually surrounds me.  
 
 I will try the water aquatics class another day.  Today I am pumped just to move my legs and arms, and do my own thing for an hour in this pool.  In the dressing room, I talk to a woman who works with a disabled, mobility challenged woman in a wheelchair.  She is glad to have a job that forces her into the pool each day.  I don't work, I am disabled too.  I should think of this time as something I need to do, as if it were my job, just as this woman does.  Health is everything.
+
+
+
+
+[[!img theswimmerstipple.JPG align="right" size="450x" alt=""]]

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+In common waters we come, kicking and spitting through waves we will always share.  I like the way the couple in the lane next to me swims.  They pass through the pool with a quick grace.  He leads in the start of their routine, she follows swiftly catching up measured lengths.  My glasses off, I am wondering who she is, who he is, who they are.  I probably don't know in the first place.  I saw a lifeguard I have spoken to, but other than a few people, I pass inconspicuous so far.  The intention was to do water aquatics but I arrived a half hour early wanting to escape conversation at home.  Maybe today is not the day to socialize, I decide after lap 9, a turning point for my swim routine as it has been this year.  As the guards change places, and my acquaintance goes to teach the next class, I part the waters with a clear commitment to swim 36 laps, my first consecutive mile this year.  
+
+I had chosen to do a shorter routine before.  I had aimed at about 9 laps per swim, just enough to get some buoyancy, to pump a little blood, and have done something good for me.  But now I realize I have been bored with that plan.  It was a hope to get me to the pool but the joy of the swim was frankly falling asleep.  My blood wasn't pumping much at all after 9 laps, which was why I wasn't swimming often enough either.  My hope today becomes to push my limits and challenge myself with swimming again, that itself I hope to be the lure that calls me back to the pool, which happens to be my favorite place to be, so it shouldn't be so difficult.  
+
+A note on bathing suits.  Some people might wonder, I am a heavy lady, is it the suiting up that keeps me from swimming.  The answer has always been no.  I am a heavy lady, and a bit of a naturist.  I am glad to get my clothes off and put on the scant article that shows most of my flesh.  It's just my nature.  The issue is motivation and temperament.  Sometimes I think about the pool a bit too much.  Water goes in my nose and I think, ah yes, what a unique mix of semen, excrement, detritus, snot, and spit.  You get the picture.  But this pool is the hallowed place.  This pool is where we all come together and become just human.  This disabled woman swims beside the doctor and nobody knows or cares.  Lapping along, nobody even thinks about the barriers that separate us.  We all are trying to do something, our own goal, our own triumph, our mile or 9 laps, or hour - whatever.
+
+I start thinking about my mile in terms of a familiar walk, the dog walk I like to do in the morning with Tobin and Brazen.  I am swimming along, visualizing the walk I take through the cemetery and my back yard.  I'll inform you, the swim is much slower than the walk.  I can't speak for everyone, but it take me an hour at least to swim the mile.  It's been a while, and I am slowing down as I imagine myself walking up the hill of the cemetery.  I see the same birds in my mind's eye who circled this morning, near the two pine trees just past the catalpa tree.  I rejoice all over again when Brazen pees and poops, as indoor dog parents like to let our animals do their thing.  In my mind, I pass the time reading grave stones I recall from this morning.  I know each passing leaf and the feel of the gravel under my feet.  Then of course, I open my goggles, rinse out the scummy coating, and 
+also feel the wonderful water, and see the world that actually surrounds me.  
+
+I will try the water aquatics class another day.  Today I am pumped just to move my legs and arms, and do my own thing for an hour in this pool.  In the dressing room, I talk to a woman who works with a disabled, mobility challenged woman in a wheelchair.  She is glad to have a job that forces her into the pool each day.  I don't work, I am disabled too.  I should think of this time as something I need to do, as if it were my job, just as this woman does.  Health is everything.

diff --git a/posts/Water_Aquatics.mdwn b/posts/Water_Aquatics.mdwn
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+This morning, after a period of waking "aspergers self diagnosis", I mentioned to my Mom that I wish I had a social group like her book group where there was a common interest whether or not we saw eye to eye on everything.
+
+I apparently had drunk too much coffee, because I don't recall her response, and only remember my retort to it.  
+
+I decided to try to join a water aquatics class in the mornings at the YMCA here in town.  
+
+I am thinking if I can keep with it, and go at least once a week, but hopefully 5 times, it could be the open door and way into healthiness that I need.
+
+So I am stoked to say I am giving it a try this morning!  Wish me luck!

diff --git a/posts/Pen_Pal_for_Hire.mdwn b/posts/Pen_Pal_for_Hire.mdwn
index 8bef2ec..6b92ad0 100644
--- a/posts/Pen_Pal_for_Hire.mdwn
+++ b/posts/Pen_Pal_for_Hire.mdwn
@@ -14,3 +14,6 @@ I know a dollar is a lot for some Americans and 5 dollars is an incredible lot o
 
 If you know me, I am no longer using facebook, as so many of us have left there.  Whether you know me or not, it is a worthwhile idea to evolve to deeper meaning through postal mail exchange.  Isn't it?
 1 Like
+
+
+[[!img 16.17.jpg align="right" size="350x" alt=""]]

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+https://www.patreon.com/posts/18212671
+
+Evolution to a Deeper Meaning
+Apr 16 at 9:16am
+What is the source of all human suffering?  Attachment maybe.  What is the reason for life?  Connection or beauty maybe.  
+
+In my latest effort, I am combining these deeply dug themes simply by sending art enclosed letters to whomever pays for basic postage (or more is acceptable.)  
+
+When you pay one dollar for instance, I will send you not only a meaning rich piece of writing.  I will send you an original sketch such as this one above.  
+
+I know a lot about suffering, and the human condition, and I would love to receive return mail from anyone around the world.  
+
+I know a dollar is a lot for some Americans and 5 dollars is an incredible lot of postage for some international citizens.  But I promise to make this worth your while.
+
+If you know me, I am no longer using facebook, as so many of us have left there.  Whether you know me or not, it is a worthwhile idea to evolve to deeper meaning through postal mail exchange.  Isn't it?
+1 Like

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+My art is so unique.  :)  
+lol
+[[!img yogaanimal.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img animalswithchairs.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Loving_Thin_Skin_Heals.mdwn b/posts/Loving_Thin_Skin_Heals.mdwn
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+I think one of the reasons my last post, a repost of Wren of MountainJewel steemit blog, means so much to me and my current condition is I have given her idea time for it to incubate.  This idea Wren has, that we should love our difficult emotions came to me first when I lived with Wren in 2009.  In 2009 Wren was spreading the same kind of philosophy, but it didn't penetrate entirely then.  I was and maybe always will be thin skinned, vulnerable, volatile, and having a hard time living with Wren in a new environment of The Mountain Retreat and Learning Center in Highlands, North Carolina.  So I took her ideas abrasively.  They were too loud and in my face, her LOVE concept!  It was all capital letters.  I wish I could say I came back to her idea somehow, before watching it on a Dtube video from her blog but I cannot.  It took between 2009 and 2017 for me to say that is a darned awesome spiritual path for you to take, Wren.  Wren was the girl at the Mountain whose ice cream I ate, Hagan Dass.  And boy did that propel a fight.  We both were fierce and had big ideas - I have hardly ever met anyone with the kind of energy she has.  In fact I would add she is one of these rare people who never had to take psychological medication for a rambunctious nature I would say excels my wild side.  I guess she is fortunate not to have lived this life I know with the diagnosis and medicine.  But I do think Wren has her emotional struggles like all of us do.  Well I saw her just January on Homestead Rescue living in a mildew ridden yurt in the Ozarks.  So I guess what I am getting at is if she doesn't have her breakdowns she would be a super hero.  But what she was saying on the video is, love the anxiety.  Love the fear.  Love the sorrow.  Love the sadness.  Honor and welcome the negative emotions in to your heart with love.  Sure it ironically means they tend to turn around more quickly, when you do that.  Also you are accepting and acknowledging parts of yourself that are necessary indicators.  Also, it is just who you are right then so you should not deny that.  Unless if denial is what you are working on loving.  
+
+So I have been thinking of this all day and now it is noon and I am having a real awakening to the way to deal with moments when the words of others get under our skin.  This is something that happens for me a lot, and why I self identify as thin skinned, though who knows, maybe this will be my turning point on that.  
+
+I love my Mother.  She is probably my best friend.  I love being around her.  But I do get jealous of relationships of others with her.  I don't want to be her one and only person in the world by any means.  I want her to love and be around all kinds of people, but I get thin skinned with her because there is no avoiding hearing her talk on the phone and it often gets under my skin what she often says.  Those are the facts.  But just today I started loving my thin skin, and it started to heal.  I started realizing in a bold way that a lot of my problem with Mom is that she retells shared experiences in ways that leave me out or talk about what I really was quite sure did not happen.  Now I am just thinking everyone does this.  I do this.  We all see the world in our own way.  And that is how we talk about the world.  I used to worry that my Mom regrets me because when she talked about what happened, big highlights with a few people, including me, she frequently avoids mentioning me or brags about everyone else, neglecting me.  But by gum, I am a big girl, and I am learning to love that worry.  I am nurturing the worry and recognizing it as a real true thing that has bothered me.  But then almost instantly, I realize also that I don't need to worry about it.  We all see the world in our own special way, and Mom sees it through her lens.  I could guess around the reason for her speech all day, but the real good idea is I wonder what I can be like if I get a little thicker skin, like a callous for playing an instrument.  
+
+I am looking forward to a new confidence.  

diff --git a/posts/repost.mdwn b/posts/repost.mdwn
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+https://d.tube/#!/v/mountainjewel/jsyjpkzn
+
+This is a repost of a friend of mine, Wren, who I knew at the Mountain.  I adore what she says here about painful emotions, so much, that I just had to put it down again.

diff --git a/posts/Want_Art__63__.mdwn b/posts/Want_Art__63__.mdwn
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+Joey integrated my art into his home.  see picture  
+
+[[!img myartatjoeyswall.jpeg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+I would love to mail anyone else some art.  Just comment and I'll get your postal address.  While supplies last.

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diff --git a/posts/Yesterday_Evicted_Depression.mdwn b/posts/Yesterday_Evicted_Depression.mdwn
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+Poor depression, moving in with someone else, someone else paying its utility bill.  Yesterday left so many beautiful images in me.  My inner imagery is generally sketchy and gray scales.  But there is a more tactile part of me that carries a more colorful imagery.  I still feel the mud as it splattered high on my leg and the cold water of the creek as I crossed it.  And there are calls of birds that I recall keenly, one sound as we entered the cars at the very end, three "ya's" like a very emphatic blue heron.  
+
+By the way, I have migrated off of facebook.  Maybe the world is changing in a terrific backpedal, where blogs are more important than that machine of intentional terror (see story on facebook's implications in Burma violence.)
+
+I have decided that while the stream of thought is flowing freely in writing form, I should keep the spigot on, no matter if it seems meaningful or not.  
+
+I am feeling grateful this morning for the inquiry my family always placed on wild things.  I hear birds out my window, and I know I hear a pileated woodpecker and a chicken.  Before I heard geese certainly.  There is a chattering of birds I am not familiar with but I would be delighted to learn their names.  I wonder about people who just coexist with our bird friends, or try to ignore them, or curse their morning songs.  I would hope those people get a chance to learn about them individually as I have started to.  
+
+So I am glad for Anna, the sibling with the farm who is a bird expert and knowledgeable on most wild things.  She gave our family compost before most people understood why.  And her farm, the one in Virginia that's still for sale, helped me to a better place yesterday.  So I am grateful.  
+
+But really how it must be to hear a woodpecker laugh and not want to know the type.  Of course, my brother Joey is inclined to call all green vegetation "plants" without any distinction.  So maybe it is not a family thing.

diff --git a/posts/Maybe_someone_can_fix_the_darkness__63__.mdwn b/posts/Maybe_someone_can_fix_the_darkness__63__.mdwn
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+<br>Under this mud</br>
+<br>deep in the Earth</br>
+<br>a core keeps some apple seed</br>
+<br>and in me.</br>
+
+Mom says Ruth Sheriff wrote better at night with strange little snacks like these to keep her stoked.  Our refrigerator harbors abundant cabbage, kale, and raddichio.  I chose the raddichio feeling sorry for the head, left behind by time, almost forgotten.  Peel off the outer layers until it stops being miserable, then I find some perky parts.  Cut up the innards.  Sizzle the olive oil.  Drop in the red plant, add the salt.  First time I cooked with raddichio, this same head, left something to be desired.  A food best cooked, I left out that part.  My slap dash cooking style reflects my inspiration.  I am blessed when I find people who appreciate it, my art, my writing.  Well, my writing is a bit more measured sometimes, not always.  Everything is an exertion of exuberance.  Let's say that is the currency of life.  Cooking an evening mini meal might take 44 exuberance rupees.  They can multiply and grow.  They can come depleted.  The exact same activity, cooking, can rob you or grow your exuberance rupees.  The first time I prepared raddichio, I put it in a salad, then picked it out of the salad.  Reading helps.  Reading about ingredients that are new to us.  So tonight, Mom was right, something in this chicory raddichio amplified my inspiration.  These are the facts.  As bitter as it tasted, it has the same effects as coffee.  Some hippies don't know the difference, but it is this cabbage like Italian plant that has the spike, not the little blue late summer flowers.
+
+For a while my writing was zapped.  I wondered why, but I figured it was depression.  Probably true.  Writing is just like cooking.  A poem could take 31 exuberance rupees, but it can just make you more inclined to write.  Or it can make you want to stick your head under a pillow and hide from words and letters.  Sketching and painting, I guess that will be 41 and 53 rupees respectively.  The thing about the money of inspiration, of life, it is so elastic.  So few are maybe aware of the currency in the first place perhaps because when you think about the same thing having either negative or positive effects for no good reason explainable, none of it makes much sense.  Ruth Sheriff was this incredible journalist friend of my mother's.  Probably worth iconizing and I have this incredible belt she wore.  So I can put it on when I write at night when my mind turns on with ideas spurred by some cabbage looking vegetable.  My head has been doing little sketches for a long time.   My head has a way of raining when it rains and droughts are available as anything, but more related to my mental wellness than anything else.  I guess things are looking up.  This is my breakthrough.  Let it rain!
+
+The way forward through darkness is often more darkness.  The light doesn't turn on when you realize it would be nice to have a light.  Sometimes that moment might be realizing gratitude is the key.  But that realization is not enough.  You must wake thinking this I am grateful for this life.  You must think these thoughts even when there is just a flicker of truth in any of it.  Or maybe it just hurts.  You convince the pain away.  You convince the truth to ignite in beauty.  You bend and shift the truth.  The truth becomes your friend.  You hold its little hand and walk together up the sunny shore.
+
+So this is what has been happening in more plot heavy terms.  I officially decided no grad school this year.  I am thinking I just will never go.  The costs seem crazy for the fact I am not much of a work person.  I mean my work lately has been relaxing as hard as I can.  I really believe in relaxing.  I am reading an Audio book to learn more about it as a science.  My peers wear themselves thin with their work, but I have a real disability and I should have the right to enjoy its peace.  So I attempt to live as essentially as possible and end up living over my means the beginning of each paycheck, like many.  I think it would be nice to stretch the disability check a little more, a goal worthy, though I am not beating myself up because it really is not much.  
+
+<br>Can someone fix the darkness?</br>
+<br>I don't know.</br>
+<br>You wait through it.</br>
+<br>Then in the darkest moment, it dawns.</br>

diff --git a/posts/A_Treck_thru_the_Aligator_Swamp.mdwn b/posts/A_Treck_thru_the_Aligator_Swamp.mdwn
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+If I had known the photographs taken on this day would be overexposed, I would have taken more care at sketching.  I usually don't say much about my ratty little sketches, but that one guy in the foreground is Joey working on the rose bush and that is his head poking up over the table on porch of the single wide, looking kind of like a skull cake.
+
+[[!img singlewideforsale.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img joeyatwork.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img waldeneffectgarden.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+Still I thought someone might like looking them over.  Maybe someone can fix the darkness?
+
+Getting outdoors so much today was vital therapy for me.  It helped that I went into the mud pretty deep.  The biological benefit of dirt exposure is well documented.
+
+Anna and Mark are still selling their farm.  If you act quick you could get a working organic strawberry crop in front of the weeds season.
+
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2298.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2299.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2300.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2296.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
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+[[!img DSCF2302.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
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+[[!img DSCF2304.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2305.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2306.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2307.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
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+[[!img DSCF2312.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2313.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF2314.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Finding_a_good_Surf.mdwn b/posts/Finding_a_good_Surf.mdwn
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+Sand scuff spraying, board wax melting off in an Equator tide.
+[[!img surf1.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+"Surf" marred by internet, yet on Netflix I find  The Endless Summer.
+[[!img surf2.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Commas connecting sentence fragments, long stretches riding a cress.
+[[!img surf3.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Hilarious documentary narrator making up facts.
+[[!img surf4.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Cape St. Francis, South Africa worth long dune exploration.
+[[!img surf5.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Somewhere in all these surf movies, Fish People, Resurface, I realize.
+[[!img surf6.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+I want to ride on top a wave!
+[[!img surf7.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+I always would hang out just past the crest.
+[[!img surf8.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+There I sang to the dolphins, and sometimes they returned.
+[[!img surf9.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Swimming long hours in the ocean.
+[[!img surf10.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+But I looked disdainfully at boards, they impeded my style.
+[[!img surf11.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Maybe I would have gone without the suit.  
+[[!img surf12.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+All the accessories bummed my bum.
+[[!img surf13.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+I finally am really getting the point of surfing.
+[[!img surf14.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Even the crash has a purpose.  
+[[!img surf15.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+So I am hatching a dream to someday stand on a board and catch a perfect wave.
+[[!img surf16.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+This summer at Ocracoke I hope to start with body surfing.
+[[!img surf17.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+I've been building my own buoyancy, a flotation device of sorts.
+[[!img surf18.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Won't you come?

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diff --git a/posts/__34__Those_who_say_don__39__t_know_and_those_who_know_don__39__t_say__34__.mdwn b/posts/__34__Those_who_say_don__39__t_know_and_those_who_know_don__39__t_say__34__.mdwn
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+
+[[!img game.JPG align="right" size="450x" alt=""]]

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-<br>Shag-bark Hickory</br>
-
-<br>These are all of the words I do not share with you.</br>
-<br>These are all the poems I don't write you.</br>
-<br>I have such warmth for you I want to share</br>
-<br>but to grow the tree needs space</br>
-<br>so I walk away from it.</br>
-
-<br>I don't swing on its branches.</br>
-<br>I don't reach out beneath it.</br>
-<br>I don't collect all the leaves as they fall.</br>
-<br>I don't even look up the species.</br>
-<br>I don't water the tree when the rain stops so long.</br>
-
-<br>I just put my faith in her strength and walk away.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Today__39__s_Sketch.mdwn b/posts/Today__39__s_Sketch.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/Today__39__s_Sketch.mdwn
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+
+[[!img drought.JPG align="right" size="450x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/March_for_Our_Lives_Revisited.mdwn b/posts/March_for_Our_Lives_Revisited.mdwn
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+This is just one sketcher's attempt to honor the great activists speaking out against gun violence, many of them young and personally impacted.  It is a horribly incomplete first edition of an attempt, leaves out many important figure heads.  Really I just drew until I got tired one day.
+
+These may be reused.  Artist credit Maggie Hess.
+
+[[!img amygoodman.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img zion.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img christopher.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img speak.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img cameron.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img naomi.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img david.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img edna.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img delaney.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img march.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Sweet__39__s_Eats.mdwn b/posts/Sweet__39__s_Eats.mdwn
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+In the beginning, Wendy worked at Sweet’s Eats, a greasy Tennessee diner at the corner of Main and Pennsylvania.  Before she started managing the restaurant her Mom ran it, when the big ice cream cone stood above the other signs, attracting customers.  Before her Mom ran the diner, her grandmother ran the diner.  Wendy knew when she graduated high school that she could do anything with her life.  Her grades were better than average, and until she got hooked on pills, she probably could have done anything.  She thought she could be a writer then.  She thought or maybe an actress or a singer or a doctor.  Then one evening at the end of high school, her sister took her out to a club and a man drugged her drink which she had left unwatched for a minute.  
+
+That was years ago when that fateful night got her hooked in a shameful spiral of pills, ultimately leaving her homeless and living in a car that wasn’t really even hers.  It was the mental hospital where she started finding herself again.  First off, it was the first place where she was off addictive substances since the drugging.  Second, she started meeting people and seeing herself in others.   She needed her alone time, but Wendy was a people person through and through.  Her human environment made the mental water she was swimming in, and the hospital was an improvement over the streets.  There were some genuine, generous people on the streets, she would tell you, but the hospital was chock full of empathetic individuals.  
+
+So she got out of the hospital, heartbroken because she had hit rock bottom, but resilient, because she had survived.  She had a plan, which she had run by the case worker for approval.  Wendy was going to knock on her mother’s door and ask for a job at the cafe.  She never thought her Mom would retire that night and leave her the whole business.  Wendy was 27 years old.  She remember ten years ago, the end of high school, clearer than many of the years in between.  It was a time for her of bitter sweet regrets, but a buoyancy of spirit that lifted up her customers.  In the cafe, she spoke openly about her experiences on the street, and most of the customers came in because of that fact, and the hand scooped ice cream tradition she carried from her mother.  Wendy was blind to the fact that she herself was lifting up many in the community.  Little old Episcopalian couples would come in, who never would admit aloud that their child had a mental illness, and listen to her stories.  They’d slowly nibble their mint chip, savoring her words of hope and faith and resilience.  To her customers, Wendy brought the diner this almost edible flavor of courage.  She was just a chubby young lady, who dressed in scanty shorts and too much make up, with a tendency to talk with every person who walked in.  If they didn’t bare their soul to her, she talked about her experiences.  Hearing about her time in the hospital and living in the car might seem like a rugged conversation piece for a place where children also came, but the adults brought their kids their for good life lessons, and occasional extra gravy.  
+
+Once a month some local artists decided to put together an open mic night.  One night there were only about four customers, so Wendy got up and read her piece.  “So that is how I ended up in a psych ward.  I spent a whole entire month there suffering alone.”
+
+In walked a fancy dressed young man with a long mustache.  He set down a drum at the end of the stage, and caught Wendy’s gaze.  For a long time she continued, just looking at him.
+
+“Someone is still trapped on the other side of the hospital glass, unable to watch the swallows and bats sweep into old chimneys, unable to crunch leaves under her feet, someone else is experiencing suffering of mental illness like I did.   Bone chattering anxiety.  Someone can’t find their breath because anxiety has taken over.  Someone is making up stories that sound more true than reality.  Someone is feeling the physical pain of their inner suffering.  But it doesn’t have to be that way.  We could prop each other up.  We could be there for one another.”
+
+Coming off the stage, Wendy was greeted by the mustached young man.  “Peter Finn at your service.”
+
+“Finn.  That is a strange last name.  It rings a bell for me.  Oh, I know where I heard of it.  That is really funny that I didn’t know that from the start.  My own Massachusetts grandmother’s maiden name was Fynn, a variation of Finn.”
+
+“I guess that is a variation.  There is a lot going on here.”  Peter responded so softly, she dipped her head towards his and caught the flavor of his breath.
+
+“Yes, there is.  We could be long lost relatives.”
+
+“And your name is Wendy, there is something about that too.  Since elementary school I always have been a fan of Wendy.”
+
+“Oh, that’s right.  Your name is Peter.  Peter Pan,” said Wendy. 
+
+“Exactly,”  Peter said.
+  
+Wendy walked over to a table in front of the stage and for a second she wonders if this new friend was gone forever, but Peter followed her.  He sat beside her.”
+
+Wendy remembered something saying, “I have something at home I think you would like to see.  Let me bring it back here.”
+
+“OK” was all Peter responded.
+“My mother has this heirloom book about the names of ancient relatives.  It’s called the Finn, Fynn, Fin book.”
+
+Peter smiled, “How interesting!”
+
+Five minutes later, Wendy reentered the diner with a large book.  She returned to where Peter is writing calligraphy with ink on heavy paper.  He was like someone from another era.  
+
+“Here is the Finn Fynn Fin book.”
+
+“Wow this is very interesting since I am adopted.  Actually, I do want to look at this book very much, but I am unsure of where to go in it, since I am adopted.”  His little mustache reminded her of a fox.  It twitched as he spoke.
+
+“I didn’t know you were adopted,” Wendy said as more of a question than a statement.
+  
+Peter smiled saying, “well we just met, so that is ok.  
+
+She had fought her mother to borrow it, but Wendy responded, “Take the time you need.”  
+
+“Do you mind if I step out with the book and call my Dad to ask a couple family questions?”  Peter asked.
+
+Wendy knew her mother would murder her if the book got lost, but responded, “I don’t mind at all, just keep in mine it is my Mom’s heirloom book.”  
+“Where are your family members from anyway?”  Peter wanted to know.
+
+“Massachusetts, originally, “ said Wendy, wiping down the table. 
+
+“I remember my people were supposed to be some of the early Mayflower people.”  Peter still spoke in that low way that drew Wendy near.  
+
+“Odd.  Maybe we are cousins!  That is my family story too.”  Wendy responded in a more exuberant exultation.
+
+“Well I will be back with the book in a minute.  This is all pretty emotional to me.”  Peter did look deeply moved.
+
+About ten minutes later. Peter returned.  A band was up on the stage with two women playing from Massachusetts.  They are folk musicians and Wendy was clapping and seems to be really thrilled.
+
+Peter gestured to the Massachusetts band.  “This is kind of crazy”.
+
+“I know!”  Wendy had resumed waiting on tables though she kept talking to Peter.
+
+Peter raised his voice a little so Wendy could hear him over the band, “I spoke with my father and learned a little about my family members.”
+
+“Cool!  I am glad you got to do that,” Wendy picked up some dirty dishes and brought them to the sink.  
+
+Wendy looked up at the clock, “I think I should go home actually.  My shift is well over.”
+
+“Let me give you my phone number,” Peter suggested.  
+
+“I am horrible with phones.  I’ll give you my number,” Wendy responded with usual truthfulness.  
+
+“Expect a call!”  Peter exclaimed as Wendy exited the diner.   
+
+Three mornings later, Wendy was working with the other waitress, June.  “The message came to my phone when I had it off three days later.  It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever said to me.  It stroked my ego and made me feel so loved yet conflicted.  Something about it made me wonder if it was a lie.”
+
+“What did it say?”  Wondered June.
+
+“I still have it.  Listen,” said Wendy, pressing play on her answering machine.
+
+“Hey Wendy.  This is Peter from the other night.  I want you to know that I go to the open mic every week.  You should come to it too and let me sit close to you and I’ll call you cousin, and we’ll let the people think whatever they chose to think.”
+
+“Girl, is he sexy as he sounds?  What are you doing not calling him back?”  June asked.
+
+“Yeah, but I don’t think it’s real,” responded Wendy.  Then she deleted the message.
+
+A month passed.   Wendy worked every day at the diner, and barely realized when open mic night came around again, until there again was Peter walking through her doors.  The pair exchanged a look soon after he entered the door.  He came over and sat down next to her and started stringing an old acoustic guitar.
+
+Wendy couldn’t help smiling to see him, and she was blushing, “Am I going to get to hear you play this time?”
+
+Peter smiled and Wendy kept trying to engage him in conversation.  His response was even quieter than the first night or coy.  
+
+“I am sorry I never called you back.  To be honest I doubted if you would want to hear from me,”  Wendy said to a sad seeming Peter.
+
+“I actually am just nervous to ask you something,” Peter grinned back to her.
+
+Since hospitalization, Wendy had never felt such a deep connection.   In hospital, the connection was generalized towards all the people.  Everyone around her was suffering something.  Today, she witnessed this sad man with a foxy mustache suffering a scar she had unintentionally invoked herself.  
+
+This was the turning point of her life, though she did not know it.  Peter had returned to the diner to ask her to elope with him to Massachusetts.  He wanted to see it, the place their ancestors were both from.  There was a real romantic connection they clearly both felt, and a strangeness that they could be distant relatives.  
+
+It was right then, when Peter pulled out two bus tickets and asked her to go north, Wendy began having her first panic attack.  She sat down on the counter stool as dishes piled up and Peter began to worry for her.  
+
+But this was a woman who had learned more about herself than most people ever would know.  She called over June from the back room and introduced her to Peter.  
+
+“This is that sexy man I told you about,” Wendy found breath to say.  She was shaking and June started fanning her with a napkin.  
+
+“I’m fine,” promised Wendy.  “Do me a favor and go together to Massachusetts.”  
+
+Both June and Peter looked kind of hurt.  They didn’t like the plan, but somehow Wendy convinced them.  This was the defining moment in Wendy’s life because it was when she saw the purpose of her mother’s life, tending the dinner, and herself following in her footsteps, and she looked at her customers and realized she had quite a devoted following.  She had earned a stability and was not willing to risk it for a thrill or a fling.  
+
+As Wendy quite literally pushed June and Peter out the door, she felt a pride beyond anything she had ever experienced.  She had caught the symptom of her body and mind saying no.  No.  That is not going to work for me.  That is what the panic attack was.  And it ended quickly, because she was listening to her own needs, and not the script of someone else’s movie.

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diff --git a/posts/Rethinking_Retail_Arbitrage.mdwn b/posts/Rethinking_Retail_Arbitrage.mdwn
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-I am not certain I can do retail arbitrage.  It seems to be something that you have to invest a long period of time in to make any money on at all.  For example, the revenue you earn does not come to you until after the first or second month.  The videos I watched were misleading and did not mention that but I am glad I kept researching into it.  So there is a good chance I will not do retail arbitrage unless if I decide to commit at least a year to it to see if it is worthwhile.

diff --git a/posts/Figure_Drawing___64___Bloom_Cafe.mdwn b/posts/Figure_Drawing___64___Bloom_Cafe.mdwn
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+The figure drawing class was a great opportunity, but most of the time, my eyes were drawn to the artists themselves.  So I sketched them too.  Everyone produced brilliant unique pieces each so different from their neighbors.
+
+
+
+[[!img figure1.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure2.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure3.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure4.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure5.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure6.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure7.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure8.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure9.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure9.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure10.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure11.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img fugure12.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure13.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure14.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure15.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img figure16.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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+<br>Shag-bark Hickory</br>
+
+<br>These are all of the words I do not share with you.</br>
+<br>These are all the poems I don't write you.</br>
+<br>I have such warmth for you I want to share</br>
+<br>but to grow the tree needs space</br>
+<br>so I walk away from it.</br>
+
+<br>I don't swing on its branches.</br>
+<br>I don't reach out beneath it.</br>
+<br>I don't collect all the leaves as they fall.</br>
+<br>I don't even look up the species.</br>
+<br>I don't water the tree when the rain stops so long.</br>
+
+<br>I just put my faith in her strength and walk away.</br>

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+When my sister sent me a blank sketchbook, with it came instructions.  "Sketch one picture a day, of something that makes you joyful, grief, angry, or afraid."  I took the first three days off.  On the third day I sketched ten pictures of my cat.  On the fourth day I sketched ten more pictures of my cat.  
+
+Cats intrigue me because their movement has abundant fluidity like ocean water.
+
+
+
+[[!img mt1.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt2.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt3.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt4.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt5.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt6.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt7.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt8.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt9.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt10.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt11.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt12.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt13.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt14.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt15.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt16.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt17.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt18.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt19.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt20.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt21.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt22.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+[[!img mt23.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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-In case if people are wondering my facebook status, or what is going on with me and facebook, I want to never return to using it.  I am still on messenger, I think.  I need to download that to my phone, so might have backed up messages.  And yes, I am angry at the corporation facebook for political reasons, and human reasons, but it isn't really news or new.  Facebook has been evil for as long as it has been.  I guess part of the initiative that is helping me ditch it is that I am noticing other people are leaving it, and that empowered me to just step back.  So hoping I never go on it again.
-
-This is not my last entry today tho...  Should get personal...

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-One day might have been all it really was.  It might have been a week.  I’m a little hazy.  But I felt a connection with someone recently that was real to me.  It felt like love.  It is interesting because in all of my days, I have never felt this intense of a connection.  Maybe it was brief, yes it was deemed impossible due to various barriers I was willing to cross but he was not.  
-
-So to be honest, that is what was happening when I experienced the low that came after.  Stress was what I was undergoing.  Thank goodness for my resilient response.  So the learning of my response?  I picked myself up, and the sun came out, and when I got past the sad thoughts, I realized this inspiring wonderful thing my life has never allowed.
-
-I realized love is the whole reason.  Life’s whole purpose is love.  And these connections that we get in our lives, romantic love, love as the lovers may describe it, is the whole reason.  
-
-For a long time, I denied that the purpose of life is to be in love.  Once I had a relationship with a man that probably could have been the most sensible, perfect union.  And I do love this friend of mine.  It’s funny the play of insanity with love.  It is like, oh sensible, that’s too bad.  Because often sensibility is at odds with the wild craziness of love, or it seems that for me.  
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-Not many people who are mentally ill allow themselves or are allowed to go over the deep end together over love.  Or when mentally ill people (everyone) fall in love, there is often this question of what is going on?  Like you might be in a relationship with someone who is entirely wrong for you.  Or maybe you are the wrong person.  
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-I think my heart is wide open this year.  This is not even the first time this year I have felt similarly, to be honest.  And now that I know love is my intention, maybe something else will happen?