A Drawer of Black Bras
Thursday, June 9, 2011
We call it death, but it is liberty.
Life is much more than the life of the body; it is an infinite expanse of energy, a continuum of love in countless dimensions, a psychological and spiritual experience independent of physical form. We have been alive forever. We will be alive forever more. But the life of the body is an important classroom. It is our opportunity to deliver the world from Hell. "Dear God, may your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven."
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Monday, May 9, 2011
Adventurous hearts
"We laughed and laughed, together and separately, out loud and silently, we were determined to ignore whatever needed to be ignored, to build a new world from nothing if nothing in our world could be salvaged, it was one of the best days of my life, a day during which I lived my life and didn’t think about my life at all."
-Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
The Pathway of Roses
Monday, April 11, 2011
Nothing is big or small for the Universe.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Monday, April 4, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
our inherent oneness with all life
Saturday, March 19, 2011
What is your Love language?
Thursday, March 17, 2011
United in unconditional love, we see a world that is whole and perfect for all.
"Channel your abundance through me in a way that serves the word."
There are 16 days left until my Birthday, and I know we can all pull together and raise $15,000! [that's $10 per every FB friend!] It is an attainable goal.
Check out this amazingggg act of love [from a child!]
And if you have questioned why Haiti still needs our help, it was estimated that a Haiti Cholera epidemic could sicken over 779,000 people between March and November of this year - that's about the population of San Francisco! [according to researchers at the University of California, San Francisco and Harvard Medical School.] - You can read the USNews article here: http://ht.ly/4fYbv
Donate $10 to Partners in Health today & help bring health care to those in need, so that they too may see another birthday!
Donation page is here: http://act.pih.org/page/outreach/view/birthday/AliRoseBDay
xoxo, Ali Rose
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
"Tout moun se moun" [Every person is a person, every life matters]
For my 21st Birthday [April 2nd], I am asking that all of my family & friends - yes YOU - to make a donation of just $10 [or what'ever you can afford... even $1.00 can make a difference!] towards Partners In Health - an organization I so deeply believe in and support. [Last year I donated $118 of my own money to PIH] I would not ask you to make a sacrifice that I am not willing to make, and have kick started the donation pool with my own $10. I am specifically supportive of the initiative PIH took in Haiti starting in 1985 to provide health care in one of the World's most impoverished countries by building not only medical facilities, but training and teaching the community how to help one another and prevent disease. After the devastating earthquake in January 2010, PIH has also designed a 3 year plan PIH to help rebuild Haiti.
Friday, March 11, 2011
My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.
"Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books; | |
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks." |
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
I always have art on my hands
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
i've known it from the moment that we met, no doubt in my mind where you belong.
the only person standing in your way is you
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
"February is thirteen months long in Michigan..."
A PRIMER
by Bob HicokMAY 19, 2008
I remember Michigan fondly as the place I go
to be in Michigan. The right hand of America
waving from maps or the left
pressing into clay a mold to take home
from kindergarten to Mother. I lived in Michigan
forty-three years. The state bird
is a chained factory gate. The state flower
is Lake Superior, which sounds egotistical
though it is merely cold and deep as truth.
A Midwesterner can use the word “truth,”
can sincerely use the word “sincere.”
In truth the Midwest is not mid or west.
When I go back to Michigan I drive through Ohio.
There is off I-75 in Ohio a mosque, so life
goes corn corn corn mosque, I wave at Islam,
which we’re not getting along with
on account of the Towers as I pass.
Then Ohio goes corn corn corn
billboard, goodbye, Islam. You never forget
how to be from Michigan when you’re from Michigan.
It’s like riding a bike of ice and fly fishing.
The Upper Peninsula is a spare state
in case Michigan goes flat. I live now
in Virginia, which has no backup plan
but is named the same as my mother,
I live in my mother again, which is creepy
but so is what the skin under my chin is doing,
suddenly there’s a pouch like marsupials
are needed. The state joy is spring.
“Osiris, we beseech thee, rise and give us baseball”
is how we might sound were we Egyptian in April,
when February hasn’t ended. February
is thirteen months long in Michigan.
We are a people who by February
want to kill the sky for being so gray
and angry at us. “What did we do?”
is the state motto. There’s a day in May
when we’re all tumblers, gymnastics
is everywhere, and daffodils are asked
by young men to be their wives. When a man elopes
with a daffodil, you know where he’s from.
In this way I have given you a primer.
Let us all be from somewhere.
Let us tell each other everything we can.
Read more http://www.newyorker.com/fiction/poetry/2008/05/19/080519po_poem_hicok#ixzz1EAXknLYo
Somewhere in his body--perhaps in the marrow of his bones--he would continue to feel her absence." -Haruki Murakami
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
IN ANY MOMENT, I CAN BEGIN AGAIN.
ALL ENDINGS ARE INEXORABLY TIED TO NEW BEGINNINGS.
Monday, February 7, 2011
Freedom is what you've done, with what has been done to you.
There's a house for sale. An old woman still lives there. She's dying inside. And her children are already selling her things. And it's sad. Not because "things" matter, but because the old woman doesn't know it's happening, and all she feels is pain, and nostalgia, but she's not sure for what because she can't remember anymore. She doesn't remember the names of her children anymore either, or what is so special, or not so special, about all the "things" that they are selling to strangers who keep coming to the house. She doesn't even know that these people are strangers, because her children are strangers to her now too, so it doesn't really make a difference. All she knows is that there are faces: some the same, some different, she can't remember their names, or if she's seen them before - they all seem new, so it doesn't really matter who they are, or what their names are, or where they came from, or if they are her children, because in two minutes she won't remember anyways. And it's sad. Not because she can't remember, but because her children have grown apathetic, and never bother to explain to their mother what is going on, or why she is in pain, or why she is loosing her hair -or what hair is for that matter- and why her hands no longer look like her own, and why they don't want to work like they use to. All she knows is there's an old woman in a house [it is her house, but she doesn't remember that], laying in a bed [it's her bed, but she doesn't remember that], wearing a stained nightgown [it is her nightgown, but she does not remember that either], this old woman has taken her hostage and is hurting her, and no one will explain -that this woman, is her.
Mathematics assume the model is correct
There's a man, he's riding the C-train, headed downtown toward Brooklyn, after a long day playing with numbers on the upper west side. He's reading a book, about consciousness and metaphysics, and all that crap that seems to be oddly trendy right now in New York City, and other cities where it's never quiet outside, and even harder to keep quiet inside. He looks like he's reading this book, but he's really thinking about how much he hates his job, and misses his family, and feels guilty for never being present. Even when he takes them on vacations to places where the skies are blue and the air is moist, and you can breathe real deep, he's still doing work, or thinking about work, and numbers and money, or on his computer, or phone, answering emails about numbers. He's there on the beach, his family is playing at the shore line, they are laughing, they are calling his name and he doesn't hear them. He's never present. He's always playing with those numbers in his head, instead of playing with his children. And even when he is playing with his children he's still playing with numbers in his head. He doesn't hear them calling. His eyes are scanning those words on the page, he looks like he's reading, but he's really just seeing family portraits, and he's not in them, and no one is smiling, and his wife is sleeping with another man, and he convinces himself it is okay, because he feels guilty, but he misses her, he misses them, he misses who he use to be, but now he's just another number riding downtown.
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