Many years ago when I was till a little kid, my mother had an opal ring. It fascinated me, because every time I looked into it, it seemed to reveal more and more hidden depths of mysterious great beauty. The image of this unimaginably huge part of the landscape of Outer Space is remarkably like my mother's opal ring. One of them tremendous beyond what we could hope to imagine, the other infinitely minuscule in comparison, and yet on the pictorial level they appear to members of the same family.Could it be that what we-think-of-as The Universe might be little more than a precious gem set in a ring belonging to an enormous species of greatly Superior Beings that fascinates them as they contemplate the the mysteries of Existence in their own fashion just as we do in ours?I always get goose bumps whenever I start to think about the possible meanings of Eternity and Infinity. I have little talent for Science and even less ability in matters Scientific, technological or mathematical, but as someone who loves poetry with a limited understanding of mysticism I believe the "visionaries" among us have many shortcuts to Understanding the Meaning and Purpose of Life.
I never saw a Moor;I never saw the Sea,Yet know I how the Heather looksAnd what a Wave may be.I never spoke with God,Nor visited in Heaven.Yet certain am I of the spotAs if the Chart were given.~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) In Emily's relatively short life she left her birthplace in Amherst, Massachusetts only two or three times. After her parents died, she lived with her sister, Lavinia, in a large brick house her father had built for his family. She had a few friends whom she loved, but none of them really understood her for what she was.She was an Old Maid, and many would assume her life must have been bleak, sorrowful and unrewarding, but Emily lived largely within the confines of her own remarkable mind. Much of what she experienced there was recorded in the approximately two-thousand poems she left behind. Though much of writing remains cryptic her poetry reveals that she lived a rich, rewarding interior life. She experienced much joy and solace in the peace of private meditation and contemplation in her elegant, but sparsely furnished bedroom.Modern Man has pretty well convinced himself, that matters relating to the Spirit, ancient revealed Truths, and received Wisdom form the past is poppycock, although that relatively polite term has regrettably fallen into disuse. Today in all likelihood we'd rudely dismiss such things as "bullshit," which tells me how far off course twentieth-century materialism and faddism generated by increasing commercialism, the dehumanizing and depersonalizing effects of Mass Production, and the foolish, misleading claims of modern advertising and popular culture have led us.We'd all do well to revive the custom of taking time each day to defog our beleaguered, bedeviled minds with quiet contemplation of what Mary Baker Eddy called The Sustaining Infinite.
I can't believe that after 24 hours no one other than myself has said even a single word about this beautiful, inspiring post! I think it most distinguished.Clear proof that God is the source of all creativity and the Master Artist whose ever-changing, ever-expanding work will never be surpassed.I wish I'd kept my mother's opal ring.Oh well! We get too soon old and too late smart, don't we?
Arcturus his other name,—I’d rather call him Star!It’s so unkind of ScienceTo go and interfere!I pull a flower from the woods,—A monster with a glassComputes the stamens in a breath,And has her in a class.Whereas I took the butterflyAforetime in my hat,He sits erect in cabinets,The clover-bells forgot.What once was Heaven, is Zenith now.Where I proposed to goWhen Time’s brief masquerade was done,Is mapped, and charted too!What if the poles should frisk aboutAnd stand upon their heads!I hope I’m ready for the worst,Whatever prank betides! Perhaps the kingdom of Heaven’s changed!I hope the children thereWon’t be new-fashioned when I come,And laugh at me, and stare! I hope the Father in the SkiesWill lift his little girl,—Old-fashioned, naughty, everything,—Over the stile of pearl!~ Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)
FT Too soon old and too late smart. Yes. Same as it ever was.People today are uneducated and lazy. They are left to the whims of the imbeciles such as the obamas who are certified by the media imbeciles as geniuses. That's all they gotta know is that the great wolfey blitzkreig as vetted them.The beauty is infinite. Yes, if Emily had gotten married, we may have never known about her. She may have spent her time cooking, cleaning, child rearing. I maintain it becomes harder every day that goes by for genius to appear because of the avalanche of outside information overload - most of it false and/or useless.
"The great are rarely famous, the famous rarely great."~ An Anonymous Purveyor of Truth
Another Great Line !
Here's a poem..If you're buying what they're sellinga cardboard box will be your dwelling
You might like this---I don't know about you, but I have been saying this a while ago; after the big tidal wave that killed 200,000 in Indonesia. Sun Comes Up Where?
TS/WS. Heh, Yes this was caused by democrats as well.
Well, I hate to say anything mundane as this here, but THAT IS GORGEOUS!! Extrapolate what we will, it's beautiful just on its own....
Yes, it is Z, We don't need to know any more.
Well, we're going to have to communicate with the boy in there. He does have a cosmically beautiful bubble.
Cube, I am the boy in the bubble. It's wonderful in here. I invite you all if and when.
I'm Here Cube ! Can you hear me?
Beautiful!! andthanks to Free Thinker- I am going to get my Opal jewelry out of the safe and touch -hold to the light and see the inner light that they have andstart writing poetry again--Thank you Kid and Free Thinker!!Carol-CS
Thank YOU very kindly, CS.
Carol-CS, May you write some poetry to inspire tomorrow's thinkers and wonderers. :-)
will do and thank you for your encouragement! :-) Carol-CS
Would anyone like to explain the difference between poetry and rhyme? I might be able to, but don't feel like taking the time. Besides, I'd rather get someone esle's thoughts on the subject.Let me just say this for your edification: All rhyme is not poetry, and all poetry is not necessarily written in rhyme.
FT, I'll take a shot at it. Rhyming is what Aerosmith does. Poetry is what one reads that opens entirely new realms into one's consciousness and elevates us to levels we never thought we would have a visual vantage point.I'm not a poet and I know it. Then again...