Thank you ๐Ÿ’™

Thank you
Honey๐Ÿ‘„


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โ€œTRY TO GET ALONG WITH EVERYTHING โ€“ THE IMPORTANT THING IS TRYING!โ€ ~ re-blog * Mystic Poet * The best ever House Poet ๐Ÿ’ฅ๐Ÿค“

Amazing Ireland ๐Ÿ’ฅ

SPIRITUAL ENLIGHTENMENT THROUGH DREAMS

โ€œHe who is happy within, who rejoices within, and who is illumined within, that Yogi
attains absolute freedom or Moksha, himself becoming Brahman.โ€œ (Gita: V-24.) The highest
spiritual knowledge is Knowledge of the Self. He who has known himself, rather his self, for him
nothing remains to be known. The wisest of the Western philosophers Socrates, gave the highest
and the best of his teachings to his disciples in the injunction โ€œKnow Thyselfโ€œ. The Indian saints
likewise gave their highest teaching in the form known as Adhyatma-Vidya or Self-Knowledge.
Knowledge of the Self, which has been called the supreme knowledge by the wise men of all
ages, has seldom been recognised as a mystery by the ordinary man. He seems to know himself so
well that he does not think it even necessary to reflect upon himself. Not only does the uneducated, illiterate person think it useless to reflect upon himself, but the highly cultured modern man also
thinks in the same way. The greater the advancement of science and learning, the less we find in the
modern man a desire to know himself.
PROPHETIC DREAMS
There are two opposite reasons that lead a man not to reflect upon himself: first, he thinks
that he knows the self too well, secondly he thinks it useless to think about himself, because the true
nature of the self can never be known. Some think that thinking about oneself is a morbid mentality.
This is a form of introversion from which one has to free oneself as soon as possible. The study of
dreams is corrective to such an erroneous view.
There was a time when psychologists thought, the less we thought about our dreams, the
better. The psychologists who take consciousness to be an epi-phenomenon still hold the same
view. Seashore, for instance, thinks that it is only abnormal people who think too much of their
dreams and that thinking too much about dreams leads to abnormalities. There is much in the
waking life to be attended to, and he who spends his time in thinking about his dreams is missing so
much of his waking life, and this contributes to his failure in life.
Now Psychology, however, has changed this point of view. It shows that deepest wisdom
comes through reflection on dreams. No one has known himself truly, who has not studied his
dreams. The study of dreams at once shows what a great mystery our soul is, and that this mystery is
not altogether insoluble, as some metaphysicians supposed. Dreams reveal to us that aspect of our
nature which transcends rational knowledge. That in the most rational and moral man there is an
aspect of his being which is absurd and immoral, one knows only through the study of oneโ€œs
dreams. All our pride of nationality and morality melts into nothingness as soon as we reflect upon
our dreams.
There is logic in our dreams or rather the logic of our waking consciousness is just like the
dream logic. The great philosopher Hegel constructed his logic without taking into account what
the dream logic has to reveal. Now logic, which at the same time claims to be a system of
Metaphysics, cannot be complete without taking into account the absurd constructions of dream
experience. Logic is only a tool of intellect, which enables it to deal with the waking experience
alone. This fact is revealed to us through the study of our dreams. The real must transcend all logical
categories; or the categories by which it can be comprehended have to be such as will not only
suffice to catch the waking experience but the dream experience too. This means that it
should be broad enough to comprehend both the conscious and the unconscious life of a man. To
conceive of such a category cannot be the work of waking consciousness. Such a category must
necessarily transcend both the waking and the dream consciousness. Thus, we are led to the
necessity of intuition or logical thought to comprehend Reality, when we begin reflecting upon
our dreams.
The modern study of dreams shows that they are not meaningless presentations. Every
dream presentation has a meaning. A dream is like a letter written in an unknown language. To a
man who does not know the Chinese, a letter written in that language is a meaningless scroll. But to
one who knows that language is full of the most valuable information. It may be the letter calls for
immediate action, or it may contain words of consultation to one suffering from dejection. It may be
a letter of threat, or it may speak of love. These meanings are there only to one who would care to
attend to the letter and would try to decipher it. But alas! How few of us try to understand these
messages from the deep unseen ocean of our Consciousness!
Why do we dream? Various answers have been given to this question. According to the
most popular scientific view, dreams are nothing but a repetition of our waking experiences in a
new form. A more thoughtful view regards them as productions of an organic disturbance
somewhere in the body, but more particularly in the stomach. To this view medical men stick more
tenaciously than any other people. Sometimes coming diseases appear in dreams. During an illness, dreams are generally more horrible than they are in the healthy condition of the body. These are all
scientific theories of dreams. We have here out of account the unscientific theories, e.g. that dreams
are premonitions or that gods or demons or spirits produce dreams, or that the soul goes out to a
sojourn in dreams etc.
The scientific theories have been very thoroughly exposed by Dr Sigmund Freud in his
Interpretation of Dreams. No physical stimulus, whether it is inside or outside the body, no
experience of the waking or sleeping state can explain the presentation of the actual dream content.
The same stimulus, namely the chime of an alarm timepiece produced three different kinds of
dreams to Hydrant at different times. Why should it be so if the physical stimulus alone is
responsible for the production of dreams?
According to Freud all dreams, without any exception, are wish fulfillment. The wishes are
actually of an immoral nature. They are revolting to the moral self, which exercises control on
their appearance. Hence, to evade this moral censor, the wishes appear in disguised forms. The
dream mechanism is very intricate. Very few dreams present the wishes as they are. Dreams
are partial gratification of the wishes. They relieve mental tension and thus enable us to enjoy
repose. They are safety valves to strong impulsion. Dreams do not disturb sleep but rather protect
it. The irrationality and the immorality of dreams make the morality and rationality of our waking
life possible.
The above statement of Freud shows that we know our animal self in a dream. But he does not
say anything about the spiritual life being expressed in a dream. This, it seems, has been done by
Jung. According to Jung, a dream is not causally determined as was supposed by Freud, but it is
teleological determined. Repressed wishes alone do not explain all our dreams. A dream
presents a demand to our waking consciousness. If rightly interpreted, it shows the way to be at
peace with ourselves. The dreams of the neurotics not only reveal the repressed contents, but they
also suggest remedies for the cure. A series of dreams sometimes occur to a patient, which reveal
the way to cure.
The dream consciousness is superior to the waking consciousness in many respects. Many
puzzles of life are solved through hints from dreams. All dreams, according to Adler, are
anticipatory. They show which way the spiritual life of a man is flowing. To know the
actual flow is necessary to correct possible errors. Dreams help us to discover the lifeline of the
individual and help us to give him proper advice for self-correction.
Thus, through dreams, one may know how one ought to act in a particular situation. The
dreams point out a path unknown to the waking consciousness. Saints and sages appear in dreams at
times of difficulty and show the way. The more one follows the dream intuitions, the clear they become.

Baby, you’re adorable

Been beat up and battered ’round
Been sent up, and I’ve been shot down
You’re the best thing that I’ve ever found
Handle me with care
Reputations changeable
Situations tolerable
Baby, you’re adorable
Handle me with care
I’m so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Won’t you show me that you really care?
Everybody’s got somebody to lean on
Put your body next to mine, and dream on
I’ve been fobbed off, and I’ve been fooled
I’ve been robbed and ridiculed
In daycare centers and night schools
Handle me with care
Been stuck in airports, terrorized
Sent to meetings, hypnotized
Overexposed, commercialized
Handle me with care
I’m so tired of being lonely
I still have some love to give
Won’t you show me that you really care?
Everybody’s got somebody to lean on
Put your body next to mine, and dream on
I’ve been uptight and made a mess
But I’ll clean it up myself, I guess
Oh, the sweet smell of success
Handle me with care
Songwriters: Bob Dylan / George Harrison / Jeff Lynne / Roy K Orbison / Tom Petty

Handle me with care

Thought of the day

a room,

There should be at least a room, or some corner where no one will find you and disturb you or notice you. You should be able to untether yourself from the world and set yourself free, loosing all the fine strings and strands of tension that bind you, by sight, by sound, by thought, to the presence of others”. … Thomas Merton

Silence
A seed grows with no sound
But
A tree falls with grand noise
But
Creation is silent
This is the Power of Silence ๐Ÿ•Š
Lord how sweet thou are ๐Ÿ•Š

Ghost Apple

So beautiful…..”Ghost Apples” in the Fruit Ridge area of Kent County, Michigan. An unusual phenomenon when freezing rain coats rotting apples before they fall, the apple turns mushy and eventually slips out, leaving the icy shell still hanging on the tree.

Angel ~ letter to my Husband ~

Kiss an Angel in the morning
Love her like a devil
When you get back home
I remember when you held me
You were my first
And last
Angel
Letter to my Husband ๐Ÿ‘„

Letter to my Husband

My husband loves me just the way I am ๐Ÿ‘„

DEAD POETS’ SOCIETY!”ย  a poemย ย  02/10/19 (SUNDAY)

DEAD POETS’ SOCIETY!” a poem 02/10/19 (SUNDAY)

THE MYSTIC POET HAS-BEEN DISCOVERED D E A D,
With a message carved into his head!
IN HIS HAND-WRITING, was “dug in:”
“I DID IT! ME!” (and he wore a big grin!)

And-when, in The Afterlife, The Poet arrived,
A million drunken angels! Each one he “high- < > -FiVed!”

THEY HAD A BIG, HOLY SUPPER, WITH BREAD &-A-LOTTA-WINE!
“At last,” They said, “The Master (pause)
Has-come-back-HERE to-dine!”

fin โค

Dead Poets Society ๐Ÿค—

My little Darlin ๐Ÿค—

MY DARLIN ๐Ÿ’™

“THE Heart ART of Compassion!”

“IN SEARCH OF THE SACRED HEART OF JESUS!”* a poem a.k.a.: “THE Heart ART of Compassion!” Feb. 10, 2019 (Sunday) for: Brian, after his Spanish Class!

COME LEARN; GET SMART! (pause)
“BUT!-I-want-a-‘GOOD’ HEART! So, tell me – What-can-I-do?”

WELL! THIS-IS-THE- O N L Y-ADVICE-I-CAN-OFFER!
IT’S ALL THAT I HAVE FOR YOU:
“Die WELL! just die – in-a-‘pauper’s’-grave,
With all the townsfolk! there – to rave,
ABOUT WHAT-A-WONDERFUL -AND-KIND-BLOKE YOU WERE,
As they’re throwing-flowers-and-crying- at-your-funeral-for-sure!”

So, I gave up all of-my considerable estate;
GAVE-IT-ALL TO-MY-NEIGHBORS, WHO TOLD ME I-WAS-GREAT,
And I lived as a pauper, ate water and bread;
I slept always outside, with rocks for my bed,
And I died and-went-to-Heaven, but no-one-came to grieve,
At my funeral site – ALONE! I-DID “LEAVE!?”
I-guess my-Heart-was-never-“GOOD,” since no one came to mourn;
WHAT-A-PITY IT-REALLY-WAS, THAT-I WAS EVER BORN,
Even though I gave-up my money – property – and estate!

“BUT YOUR INTENTION MUST BE PURE, for, a ‘GOOD’ heart ISN’T ‘GREAT,’
IF-you’re-‘TRYING’-to-have-‘a good heart!’ for SUCH-only-happens to,
Those who simply DO THEIR BEST – with no reward in view!
An-INTENTION TO-BE-GOOD for-the-sake of recognition,
Is never very “sacred!” You might as well go fishin’!
And IF you catch a fish – to eat for dinner time,
Apologize &-thank the fish, for that can be sublime!
Yet, IF-THE-FISH SAYS: “THROW ME BACK!” Do it right away,
And forget-dinner on that night! PERHAPS, ANOTHER DAY!
But, if the fish says: “OK! You’re welcome!” and “Have-a-real-good-meal,”
Then share fish dinner – with a stranger – one, for whom you feel,
COMPASSION! (pause)
Plus-the-compassion-you-showed, by-being-‘mindful’-of-your-food!
COMPASSION’S FOUND IN-A-GOOD-HEART, with A-KINDLY, HAPPY MOOD!”

fin โค

* – or The Buddha, Moses, Muhammad, Confucius, Zoroaster, Krishna, or your favorite!

COMPASSION
Miracle ๐Ÿ‘„

“J’s DILEMMA?” a poem dedicated to critical, scared tennis players Sun.: 10 Feb 2019

“J’s DILEMMA?” a poem dedicated to critical, scared tennis players Sun.: 10 Feb 2019

“T is coming!” say-eth J! “She’s-been-comin’-since-I-was-born!”
J sought out his mentor’s (?) advice, for he was truly (?) torn!?
NOT KNOWING WHAT TO DO – with-INSANE-T, you-might-say!
For T-is a terrible killer – a drugger! – and-SICK-as-long-as-is-The-Day!
“T’s INSANE! There! I said IT,” and-J could offer no more,
With silent tears and yearning, he waited at-His Master’s Door!

And THEN – from-behind-The-Curtain – THE WIZARD OF [ ] would explain:
“YES, MY SON – I-know-what-you-mean! T IS S O I N S A N E,
And – she might come to kill you – or, worse, get you ‘hooked on pot,’
Despite YOUR LOVING & CARING-ness, which has seen her through a lot!
So, YES, we are all-agreed – THAT GIRL IS DARNED INSANE,
And jealous – and-fundamentally-at-odds – with-ALL-that’s-decent-&-humane!”

“Oh, God; oh, God, what shall I do? for I AM NOT INSANE;
I’m REASONABLE! I-can-deal-with-this – but, I really feel her pain,
Her addiction(s)! Her angst! and her jealousy UNTOLD,
What-is-it-I-should-do? Master!? Please-give-me-SOLID-GOLD!”

“OK, then! SHE’S INSANE! (pause) On this we can agrEE,
BUT SO ARE YOU-and-YOUR-insanity!- is-‘MORE’-than-that-of-T!!”

“NO!” said J; “Not true! My Master – NO! (meekly?) Can-you-give-me-a-little-proof!”

“It is BECAUSE – you’re-so-concerned-about-her-coming! and, besid-eth;
Yes! forsooth:
THE MOST CRAZY CRAZIES – ARE ALWAYS THOSE Those WHO like to SPY,
ON-CRAZY! -IN-THE-LIVES-OF-OTHERS! CRITICS! ARE-CRAZY-HIGH!”

[So, Gentle Readers: That’s why Jesus-said: “Cut-off your sinning limb!
It is the one with a finger-pointing- at-the-faults – of HER-and-HIM!]

The-Moral?: Crazy-fingers-point-OUTWARD, whereas – ones-that-points-straight-in,
Identify THE-KOOKY-CRAZY-PEOPLE, with-their-haughty-nose and chin!*

fin โค

* – And if-that doesn’t-make sense to you, wait a little while – I think, in time, it-will-all-“ring true!” But-it-WON’T-“help”-our – CRAZY STYLE! ๐Ÿ™‚ – Yaw-za! Wow-za!

Oh my,
Peace ๐Ÿ•Š

“CAUGHT IN THE WORDS OF THE COSMIC WORD FIGHT!”

“CAUGHT IN THE WORDS OF THE COSMIC WORD FIGHT!” a poem February 10, 2019 (Sunday)

THOUGHTS ARE HERE AND GONE ALL THE TIME!!!
They-are from “THE DIVINE WORDER!” He might throw you a rhyme,
Or a sentence! or – a word or two,
Or-3-or-4-will-POP-outta-Him, and he’ll-throw-them-at-YOU!

They’ll-hit-you! RIGHT THERE! on-the-blackboard-o’-your-mind,
And it OFTEN depends upon what he has dined,
ON! For, if he ate fruit – or a few sips o’ juice,
What hits is a light and a sweet, little verse!
If the meal fare was heavy pork – or something with butter,
Weighty words like CARDAMOM are what he might mutter,

But HE JUST KEEPS TOSSING “for all that he’s worth,”
And, if you’re Shakespeare or Poe, what-is given birth,
Are stories and/or plays short-or-long-but-really-“DEEP,”
But it’s ALL THERE FOR YOU, unless-you-go-to-sleep,
In which case you dream – of castles and kings,
Of sweet romance – and other crazy things,
Like the future where cars fly – and women turn into men, (pause)
And then regret what they’ve done – for the words thrown at a HEN,
Are more about LOVE – little children – hair styles and shopping,
But onto men’s blackboards: t-t s – pus—s – cars & dirty hands will be “popping!”

The thoughts & the words & the stories are EVER TOURING,
UNTIL – one day – thoughts about DEATH! begin pouring,
On your screens OR lots-of-fear-and-concern-about-the-VALUE-of-Life,
So you might “take” a husband – or, maybe, a wife!

THE DIVINE-WORD-THROWER is OUTTA CONTROL!
So-you’ll go to The Doctors! for pills they will dole,
OUT-to-you – TO OBSCURE what you might see on The Board!
IF the pills wear off, the-words-are-stacked-up-&-messy, and you go: “Oh, Dear Lord,
Make-it-STOP-it’s-TOO-MUCH!” but-The-WORDER-don’t-care,
He just keeps on a-tossing, so The Board won’t be bare!

If you die in your sleep, and wake up again,
IN ANOTHER LIFE – THE BOARD! IT-IS ALL FILLED IN!!!
You try to “piece it all together!” What a terrible mess?!
Or you take a big hose-and-wash-it-off, more or less,
To have a CLEAN SLATE, but – The Divine-WORDER-will-just hate,
A vacuum or clean palette, so he won’t hesitate,
To do WHAT HE DOES! in rapid time NOW!
Maniacally tossing sentences – They hit and go POW,
UNTIL, maybe, one day, YOU somehow STOP – and you talk nice to HIM,
And-ask-Him-what-He-wants! and He’ll pause, with a grin,
Not knowing what to say, UNTIL – “these words” pop out: (pause)
“I wish someone would give ME some words, so I wouldn’t have to doubt,
What to do or say next, for I just keep-on a-throwing,
Words – because – What to do next in my life IS WHAT I’M NEVER KNOWING!

So, you suggest – a few words – like: “I LOVE YOU!” and “please,”
And “Thanks for the memories – ” and words-about-“the-birds-and-the-bees;”
You-all EXCHANGE THOUGHTS – or – You TOTALLY “take charge,”
To-where the barrage of words – becomes minimal – not so very large,
And things SLOWLY TURN, and time stills way down,
Past hurts are forgotten – and we all lose our frown,
And HEAVEN JUST SHINES! in loving, kind ways,
Everyone’s HAPPY – and nobody says,
Much of anything – We just smile – and nice thoughts we send,
In harmony and peace – no more dreadful “mind bend,”
Or words being thrown at us – to have to deal about!
WE ARE JUST BLANK SLATES, NO TEARS AND NO POUT! (long pause)

We breathe – We sigh – We move slowly, with CALM, (pause)
UNTIL – ONE DAY SOMEBODY UTTERS THIS BOMB:
“Hey! This is boring! Let’s do something fun!”
And someone yells: “FOOD FIGHT!” and we’re all “on the run,”
Tossing words in long sentences – pell-mell, all around;
WE’RE ALL “THE DIVINE WORDER!” and it’s “fever pitch” sound!!
The words, thoughts, expressions – are all out-of This World;
We’re back in FULL SWING! with dynamically whirled,
WORDS! words – words – words It’s a new season of THOUGHT,
And here we are AGAIN, My Friends – IN WORDS WE ARE CAUGHT!

fin โค

And, if that’s not fun enough for you, well, you know what we’ll do?
WE’LL TAKE TURNS WITH THE CHALK – AND-WE’LL DRAW PICTURES TOO!!

Words ๐Ÿค—
Peace on Earth ๐Ÿ•Š

“THE ZIPPERED GIRL!”ย 

“THE ZIPPERED GIRL!” a poem February 2019

I finally met – A ZIPPERED GIRL; she “zippered” in “the back!’
Her-hair?-EBONY Her-eyes?-DARK Her-lips-were-painted-BLACK!
She move-ED through the coffee shop, just-like a sleek, black cat,
A panther – or, perhaps, a-lynx – and-I-saw just-how she sat!! ๐Ÿ™‚ – ow – ee!
It wasn’t really sitting, I guess! It-was kinda-like-a-crouch!
I saw her from across the room, as-I-sat upon the couch,
And-watched! as she unzipped herself, so se-ductive-ly!
THE ZIPPERED-GIRL HAD-ME-AT-THE-1ST-ZIP, as-she-zipped-down, cas-u-‘ly!

Her skin then-just-simply – peeled-away, with zippers on each side!
The skin, it folded open(ly), until she was so wide,
And-I-nonchalantly gazed-right-in – It was a precious sight!
THE ZIPPERED GIRL RAD-I-ATED, WITH-AN-ARRAY-OF-GLORIOUS-LIGHT!
It blinded me (for just a moment) – until my eyes adjusted,
And, finally, I focused CLEAR – and-kinda-sorta – l – – – ed,
After all-that Divine Light; then-she-zipped-agin, again,
Back to her neck – She-shook-her-hair – and-that-is, I think, when:

She turned & said: “THE PRESSURE! – SOMETIMES GETS TO ME,
So I must let some light get out! Wouldn’t you agree,
THAT-TOO-MUCH-OF-ANYTHING’S-NOT-SO-GOOD;
EVEN-LIGHT, IT-MUST BE-‘WEIGHED,’
To balance with some darkness!? (pause) Do you need a maid?
For I can ‘clean’ quite well, I can – ‘specially in darkened spaces!!!!!
For-I’ve-got-The-Light – It’s-built-right-in! for-corners-and-other “dusty-places!”

fin โค

Zippered Girl
๐Ÿ‘„
Zipper๐ŸŽญ

~ The Old Gray Wall – Bliss Carman

Time out of mind I have stood
Fronting the frost and the sun,
That the dream of the world might endure,
And the goodly will be done.
Did the hand of the builder guess,
As he laid me stone by stone,
A heart in the granite lurked,
Patient and fond as his own?
Lovers have leaned on me
Under the summer moon,
And mowers laughed in my shade
In the harvest heat at noon.

Children roving the fields
With early flowers in spring,
Old men turning to look,
When they heard a blue-bird sing,

Have seen me a thousand times
Standing here in the sun,
Yet never a moment dreamed
Whose likeness they gazed upon.

Ah, when will ye understand,
Mortals who strive and plod,โ€”
Who rests on this old gray wall
Lays a hand on the shoulder of God!

~ The Old Gray Wall – Bliss Carman