Thoughts and visions during the night; sights and sounds in slumber. These supposed imaginings and horrors- why do we call them dreams? In doing so, have we made them less real? Do we diminish their significance in considering them mere involuntary manifestations?
I often wonder if indeed they are vibratory remnants of cosmic memories, having more substance than we care to permit ourselves to accept.
Upon waking, they are already imprinted in our own memory. Their existence is real and actual, even should they be only visual representations of unconscious thoughts and ideas.
Rachelle LeCount
[I may be reworking this at a later date, as is sometimes the case. Or perhaps adding to it later. Maybe. We'll see.]
I'll close this post with some thoughts from Evelyn Underhill (I love reading her).
“All men, at one time or another, have fallen in love with the veiled Isis whom they call Truth. With most, this has been a passing passion: they have early seen its hopelessness and turned to more practical things. But others remain all their lives the devout lovers of reality: though the manner of their love, the vision which they make to themselves of the beloved object varies enormously. Some see Truth as Dante saw Beatrice: an adorable yet intangible figure, found in this world yet revealing the next. To others she seems rather an evil but an irresistible enchantress: enticing, demanding payment and betraying her lover at the last. Some have seen her in a test tube, and some in a poet’s dream: some before the altar, others in the slime. The extreme pragmatists have even sought her in the kitchen; declaring that she may best be recognized by her utility. Last stage of all, the philosophic sceptic has comforted an unsuccessful courtship by assuring himself that his mistress is not really there.”
- Evelyn Underhill, Mysticism
Other posts:
Pegs & Holes
Wishing for Sidewalks
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
Dust Bowl
Joe Bonamassa... what can I say. He's an excellent guitarist and blues artist. His "Dust Bown" release of March 2011 is pretty good. I don't think I've posted any tunes from that album yet. Excellent stuff.
Take me away, Joe... :)
"The Last Matador of Bayonne"
(track 7)
"Pioneer"
(track 12)
So... I wonder what was I up to this time last year?
February 2011 posts
Or 2 years ago?
February 2010 posts
How about 3 years ago? Just for the heck of it.
February 2009 posts
Now. On with my day. It's going to be a long one.
Take me away, Joe... :)
"The Last Matador of Bayonne"
(track 7)
"Pioneer"
(track 12)
So... I wonder what was I up to this time last year?
February 2011 posts
Or 2 years ago?
February 2010 posts
How about 3 years ago? Just for the heck of it.
February 2009 posts
Now. On with my day. It's going to be a long one.
Secrets at Dawn
This morning I feel like sharing a poem by Rumi. It was one of the first of his poems that I read many years ago. It's short but sweet and deep. Or at least, to me it is.
---------------------------------------------------
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
---------------------------------------------------
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don't go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don't go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don't go back to sleep.
From Essential Rumi
Monday, February 6, 2012
Crafts & Things
So far, for the most part, this blog has just been a place to periodically share things I've written over the years, or things I've rewritten from old ideas, along with the occasional reporting of vacation escapades or note here and there on different topics that have my interest on a given day. However, I might consider sharing more of my journeys as I try new projects.
Right now I'm attempting to learn to knit on a loom. It's not quite as simple as making a rug. And I have little-to-no previous knitting experience in the traditional sense. But the loom knitting looks like it might be fun and a change from having to sit at the sewing machine or at a table.
I recently became interested in a site called Pinterest. There are tons of ideas for all types of craft and sewing projects, techniques, gift making ideas and even recipes.
I do plan to try some of the things I've seen and 'pinned' to my 'boards.
We'll see how it all goes.
Right now I'm attempting to learn to knit on a loom. It's not quite as simple as making a rug. And I have little-to-no previous knitting experience in the traditional sense. But the loom knitting looks like it might be fun and a change from having to sit at the sewing machine or at a table.
I recently became interested in a site called Pinterest. There are tons of ideas for all types of craft and sewing projects, techniques, gift making ideas and even recipes.
I do plan to try some of the things I've seen and 'pinned' to my 'boards.
We'll see how it all goes.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Here's a very nice article on natural ways to get rid of pests. Or at least discourage them. From moles to deer to snails. Lots of helpful solutions for the yard and garden.
35 Pest and Disease Remedies
35 Pest and Disease Remedies
Another Rug
I finally finished my 2nd rug project. I got a lot of satisfaction out of making this. However, the next time, I'll know to make my beginning chain a lot longer, as I was going for something more oblong.
You can see part of my braided rug project HERE
You can see part of my braided rug project HERE
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Abstractions
This goes along with something I posted a few days ago.
[Words of My Heart]
What are words anyway, if they are not abstract in themselves? For this they are.
My words, to the analytical mind, are not impossible to understand. The meaning is hidden in plain sight. Yet not hidden. They are seen by the eyes of the soul and heard with the ears of the heart. The reason for this, is because that is the place from which they arise. It is their true home.
So, as we ourselves might understand the term 'earth bound misfit', this is also true of the stirrings within my heart and spirit. Their aches and pains. Their triumphs and pleasures.
If my spirit is of another place and time, why not so with the words of that spirit that is within me. Or no... not within me, but that which I am?
Rachelle LeCount
January 2012
You might also like:
My Name is Diaphanous
Outside My Window
[Words of My Heart]
What are words anyway, if they are not abstract in themselves? For this they are.
My words, to the analytical mind, are not impossible to understand. The meaning is hidden in plain sight. Yet not hidden. They are seen by the eyes of the soul and heard with the ears of the heart. The reason for this, is because that is the place from which they arise. It is their true home.
So, as we ourselves might understand the term 'earth bound misfit', this is also true of the stirrings within my heart and spirit. Their aches and pains. Their triumphs and pleasures.
If my spirit is of another place and time, why not so with the words of that spirit that is within me. Or no... not within me, but that which I am?
Rachelle LeCount
January 2012
You might also like:
My Name is Diaphanous
Outside My Window
Pregnant Onion & Ginseng Root
I was showing a friend some snapshots of a few of my favorite houseplants and figured I'd post a few here.
The above is Ginseng Root. I'm supposing it's a sort of miniature or bonsai, but I'm not entirely sure. I found it at Walmart, nearly dead, marked down to around a dollar. Or it might have been less. I put it in a fresh pot of soil and nursed it back to health. I think it's pretty cool.
This next shot if of a very old Pregnant Onion. There are two in the picture but one (the larger of the two) was part of a potted arrangement of mixed succulents from something like 15-16 years ago. Or more. A long time anyway. It almost died on several occasions but I managed to revive it and finally one of its babies took root and has been growing alongside it.
I'm definitely no expert when it comes to houseplants but I do very much enjoy having them around. I've never quite felt like home is home without some houseplants and at least one of something living in water - fish or turtles.
Now, I'll share a song by Dan Fogelberg. It doesn't have to do with houseplants in a direct sort of way but it's a tender song about the earth and living creatures.
"A Cry in the Forest"
(About Mother Earth and all of it's gentle creatures)
There`s a cry in the forest, it`s feathered and brown
And it echoes off of nothing as the trees come down
It`s the sound of a sparrow hittin` the ground
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
There`s a cry in the oceans, it`s plaintive and blue
And it rises from the depths, breaks my heart in two
It`s the dreams of the great whales running aground
For they know that they`re eternity bound
For they know that they`re eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once they`ve passed into the timeless, they can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
There`s a cry in the heart of every woman and man
We`ve been crying in the darkness since the world began
Will we ever seek forgiveness, will we ever earn the crown
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once we`ve past into the timeless, we can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
The above is Ginseng Root. I'm supposing it's a sort of miniature or bonsai, but I'm not entirely sure. I found it at Walmart, nearly dead, marked down to around a dollar. Or it might have been less. I put it in a fresh pot of soil and nursed it back to health. I think it's pretty cool.
This next shot if of a very old Pregnant Onion. There are two in the picture but one (the larger of the two) was part of a potted arrangement of mixed succulents from something like 15-16 years ago. Or more. A long time anyway. It almost died on several occasions but I managed to revive it and finally one of its babies took root and has been growing alongside it.
I'm definitely no expert when it comes to houseplants but I do very much enjoy having them around. I've never quite felt like home is home without some houseplants and at least one of something living in water - fish or turtles.
Now, I'll share a song by Dan Fogelberg. It doesn't have to do with houseplants in a direct sort of way but it's a tender song about the earth and living creatures.
"A Cry in the Forest"
(About Mother Earth and all of it's gentle creatures)
There`s a cry in the forest, it`s feathered and brown
And it echoes off of nothing as the trees come down
It`s the sound of a sparrow hittin` the ground
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
It`s the sound of one eternity bound
There`s a cry in the oceans, it`s plaintive and blue
And it rises from the depths, breaks my heart in two
It`s the dreams of the great whales running aground
For they know that they`re eternity bound
For they know that they`re eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once they`ve passed into the timeless, they can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
Of the gentle ones eternity bound
There`s a cry in the heart of every woman and man
We`ve been crying in the darkness since the world began
Will we ever seek forgiveness, will we ever earn the crown
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Or are we in turn eternity bound
Whoa eternity bound
Once we`ve past into the timeless, we can never more be found
Is there anybody listening, tell me can you hear the sound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Of the lonely ones eternity bound
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
The Words of My Heart
The words of my heart, are droplets that fall upon linen.
They are the tears of rainbows and the twinkling eyes of the stars.
They are splashes of pleas and dotted lines that connect my soul with eternity.
They are love, splattered across a canvas wall.
They are questions that melt like wax crayons heated by the sun.
They are photographs, framed slightly askew.
They are as a cork released from the bottle it seals.
They are the colors of an artists pallet, swirled together, not yet one.
They are the chiseling of the sculptor, revealing what is hidden beneath.
They are the scents in a garden of many flowers.
They are blood and breath. They are water against stone.
These are the words of my heart.
Rachelle LeCount
January 16, 2012
You also might like these posts:
Know
Leala's Refuge
Mystics & Watchers
The Reader
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Braided Rug Project
I decided to teach myself how to make a hand braided rag rug. Here it is so far. I still have a good bit to go, but it's looking nice for a first try.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Beware of Maya
Music should never be listened to with the ears only. You have to feel it with your spirit and take it into your heart. Carlos Santana once said some songs are like tattoos. Once you hear them they're a part of you.
This is nice song. Nice music. Gentle and slow. The lyrics are good too. But do you know what they mean? That's the question.
Written by George Harrison. Also popularized by Leon Russell. Here's Clapton's version.
There's a line in the song "Beware of Maya"
Maya has multiple meanings and is believed by some to be good and necessary. By others Maya is believed to keep us bound to an illusion and to earth, keeping us from fully awakening to the universe. That it represents the purely physical and mental reality in which our conscious selves have become entangled.
Just some food for thought, if you're so inclined.
This is nice song. Nice music. Gentle and slow. The lyrics are good too. But do you know what they mean? That's the question.
Written by George Harrison. Also popularized by Leon Russell. Here's Clapton's version.
There's a line in the song "Beware of Maya"
Maya has multiple meanings and is believed by some to be good and necessary. By others Maya is believed to keep us bound to an illusion and to earth, keeping us from fully awakening to the universe. That it represents the purely physical and mental reality in which our conscious selves have become entangled.
Just some food for thought, if you're so inclined.
Juxtapositions
There are so many things to say, yet I lack the ability (or perhaps it's the fortitude) to express them. Somewhere along the line, it seems the confidence to communicate the assorted thoughts and dispositions has all been diminished. A considerably afflicting state in which and with which to exist. One for which I have yet to find clear recourse or remedy.
To grant the freedom to speak as one will is a simple matter when one does not directly experience the resulting dejection, rejection or vacant response, nor suffers from the same affective vulnerabilities.
Against all that, there is the question of what thoughts to make known - which sentiments to reveal? Lamentations and jubilation, indignation and appeals all abound. They collide and mix in a swirling pools, as one has spilling liquid color in meandering stream. Red into yellow, blue into green, spinning themselves into shades of gold and aqua and purple. How can one distinguish the point at which one begins and the other ends? A mingling of emotions. The breaking apart and piecing together of heart and mind, body and soul.
Hope and despondency, expectancy and cold reality. It's an issue of juxtaposition. It creates a disarray that, as a result, produces and induces yet more to be spoken that, in turn, cannot be spoken. But I digress, so it seems the very matter which I strive to approach will have to wait for another day.
By Rachelle LeCount
Written some time ago
Other entries you might like: March 2009
To grant the freedom to speak as one will is a simple matter when one does not directly experience the resulting dejection, rejection or vacant response, nor suffers from the same affective vulnerabilities.
Against all that, there is the question of what thoughts to make known - which sentiments to reveal? Lamentations and jubilation, indignation and appeals all abound. They collide and mix in a swirling pools, as one has spilling liquid color in meandering stream. Red into yellow, blue into green, spinning themselves into shades of gold and aqua and purple. How can one distinguish the point at which one begins and the other ends? A mingling of emotions. The breaking apart and piecing together of heart and mind, body and soul.
Hope and despondency, expectancy and cold reality. It's an issue of juxtaposition. It creates a disarray that, as a result, produces and induces yet more to be spoken that, in turn, cannot be spoken. But I digress, so it seems the very matter which I strive to approach will have to wait for another day.
By Rachelle LeCount
Written some time ago
Other entries you might like: March 2009
Saturday, December 17, 2011
The Wizard
Wow. I hadn't listened to this song in a long time. Reminds me of those years a long long time ago. Good stuff. I saw them live once, by the way. Great times.
Uriah Heep
The Wizard
He was the wizard
Of a thousand kings
And I chanced to meet him
One night wandering
He told me tales
And he drank my wine
Me and my magic man
Kinda feeling fine
He had a cloak of gold
And eyes of fire
And as he spoke
I felt a deep desire
To free the world
Of its fear and pain
And help the people
To feel free again
Why don't we listen to
The voices in our hearts
‘Cause then I know we'd find
We're not so far apart
Everybody's got to be happy
Everyone should sing
For we know the joy of life
The peace that love can bring
So spoke the wizard
In his mountain home
The vision of his wisdom
Means we'll never be alone
And I will dream of my magic night
And a million silver stars
That guide me with their light
Uriah Heep
The Wizard
He was the wizard
Of a thousand kings
And I chanced to meet him
One night wandering
He told me tales
And he drank my wine
Me and my magic man
Kinda feeling fine
He had a cloak of gold
And eyes of fire
And as he spoke
I felt a deep desire
To free the world
Of its fear and pain
And help the people
To feel free again
Why don't we listen to
The voices in our hearts
‘Cause then I know we'd find
We're not so far apart
Everybody's got to be happy
Everyone should sing
For we know the joy of life
The peace that love can bring
So spoke the wizard
In his mountain home
The vision of his wisdom
Means we'll never be alone
And I will dream of my magic night
And a million silver stars
That guide me with their light
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Septarian Nodule
I never got around to posting a picture of this back during the summer. It's a pretty piece I purchased at Zuzu's Petals Rock Shop, in Helen GA. I keep thinking I should make a day trip up there soon. It's off season but that doesn't matter I don't think.
This one is roughly 7 inches by 8 inches.
Septarian's formed between 50 to 70 million years ago. As a result of volcanic eruptions, dead sea life was chemically attracted to the sediment around them, forming mud balls. As the ocean receded, the balls dried and cracked. Due to their bentonite content they also shrank in size, creating the cracks inside. As decomposed shells seeped down into the cracks in the mud balls, calcite crystals formed. The outer thin walls of calcite then transformed into aragonite. The name Septarian comes from the Latin word "septem", meaning seven, because the mud balls had a tendency to crack in 7 points in every direction, thereby creating the distinctive pattern these nodules exhibit. Septarians are composed of Calcite (The Yellow Centers), Aragonite (The Brown Lines), and the outer grey rock is Limestone.
You can read more about them HERE and HERE.
This one is roughly 7 inches by 8 inches.
Septarian's formed between 50 to 70 million years ago. As a result of volcanic eruptions, dead sea life was chemically attracted to the sediment around them, forming mud balls. As the ocean receded, the balls dried and cracked. Due to their bentonite content they also shrank in size, creating the cracks inside. As decomposed shells seeped down into the cracks in the mud balls, calcite crystals formed. The outer thin walls of calcite then transformed into aragonite. The name Septarian comes from the Latin word "septem", meaning seven, because the mud balls had a tendency to crack in 7 points in every direction, thereby creating the distinctive pattern these nodules exhibit. Septarians are composed of Calcite (The Yellow Centers), Aragonite (The Brown Lines), and the outer grey rock is Limestone.
You can read more about them HERE and HERE.
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