Celebrating the possible . . .

In the mailbox: a moon-day celebration two days ahead of a full one . . .

What does it mean when men stop trusting their own intuition . . . [when they stop] trusting other men with their spiritual questions and visions? . . . Everyone suffers when men doubt other men's intuitive dreams. What if dreaming of plants wasn't just a passing fantasy but a mythical, masculine birthright? How powerful would it be if our brothers didn't laugh at their vulnerable brothers and sisters? – after Sophie Strand

Another poetry month poem:

See how I wrote those words and survived,

how you read them and lived? You and I,

we just keep getting smaller, more hardened.

Whatever hope we have left is crouched

within us, waiting to germinate. Are we not

also children being taught to hide until

we’re told we’re safe and pretend to believe it? – Abby E. Murray

Don't be afraid of tears . . . “Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.” — Charlotte Brontë
It’s an honor when a friend cries in front of you and wants to be held and comforted by you. It’s a gift to have a friend hold emotions for you—no, not handle them for you, but make space for them and for you. – Maria Shriver.

Here's the deal: Fear not letting go. Letting go doesn't mean you won't continue being surprised with memories you've buried deep in the Abattoir of the rabbit-hole at the bottom of the bloody lake. Letting go allows for those surprises to come up so that they can be released. This is the purchase price of freedom. It's why writing seems difficult, and forgiveness nigh to impossible.

What's not impossible is celebrating the birthday of Dr. Jane Goodall born 89 years ago today in 1934 London and still on tour.

Livin' Loud . . .

In the mailbox as the sun rises . . .

Sun's up, mmhmm (uh huh), looks okay

The world survives into another day

And I'm thinking about eternity

Some kind of ecstasy got a hold on me . . .

– Bruce Cockburn, Wondering Where the Lions Are.

Yesterday was the 150th anniversary of Sergei Rachmaninoff's birth. The pianist and composer weas born in 1873 Novgorod, Russia. He remains among the titans of 20th Century classical music, particularly note for his Symphony #2 (1907), Piano Concerto #2 and #3, and his tone poem Rhapsody on a Theme by Paganini. (1934).

Today in 2005, John Paul II, died at his home in the Vatican. The well-traveled pope was the first non-Italian to hold the position since the 16th century. Over two million people attended his funeral service.

298 years ago today, in 1725 Venice, Giacomo Casanova was born; Hans Christian Andersen was born on this date in 1805 Odense, Denmark – he gave us over 150 fairy tales and novels; and today is the 183rd anniversary of Émile Zola's birth. The prolific French realist-novelist, journalist and national icon was born on this date in 1840 Paris.

Today in 1917, President Woodrow Wilson asked Congress to send U.S. troops into battle against Germany in World War I. Four days later, Congress obliged.

In 1977 Fleetwood Mac's "Rumors" album arrived at No. 1 to stay atop charts for 31 weeks and win the Grammy Award for best album of the year.

"If you ask me what I came into this life to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud." – Émile Zola

Hummming into Spring

In the mailbox this first day of April named after a Satyr . . . which seems appropriate for an “April Fool”.

As April is Poetry Month, I'll be sharing some of my own and some of my faves each day.

Introducing Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. Check out her TED presentation.

There are moments when chaos coalesces into a synchronized, relational pattern of an utterly unpredictable assemblage of differing entities. This is the birth of an emergent system without pretense or planning. Ex: the murmurations of starlings, fish schooling, tornadoes, fractal patterns in snowflakes, the ongoing integration of Yin and Yang … and Dyonisus. We need individuated “emergent” escape routes from the patriarchal mindset we've each lived with — a new cultural legacy.

— after Sophie Strand. Check out her poem “I will not be purified” in a performance with Amanda Palmer.

Compared to many,

reared gentled,

still

finding things

to complain about.

The repetitiousness of life is not really repetition. It is composed of constant happenings, situations constantly evolving, all the time. That is the path. – Chögyam Trungpa

. . .thank you for the humming

that rises out of the morning as if mornings

are simply reasons to hum. – Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer