Read the rest of this entry »‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening.
‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.
‘And I can’t come.’
‘No, Sam. Not yet, anyway, not further than the Havens ….’
….
… and so they rode down at last to Mithlond, to the Grey Havens in the long Firth of Lune ….
J. R. R. Tolkien, The Return of the King (The Lord of the Rings, Part 3)
It’s taken me a few weeks to get back into gear, what with coping with current situations, and Diana’s temporary leaving. But I’m back in harness, and should be able to keep going with some careful juggling of money.
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You’ll find several churches in the Ville de Coeur regions, and one cathedral, which I discovered through the Destination Guide. (Yeah, we’re spending a lot of time in the Mediterranean lately. That’s how it’s working out.) This church (which holds services most Sundays at 11:00 a. m. SLT, as I understand) is a fairly faithful recreation of the Real World’s Amalfi Cathedral, also called Il Cattedrale di Sant’Andrea (dedicated to Saint Andrew).
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It’s as good a time as any for a holiday trip, as the Europeans would call it, down to the Mediterranean coast.
Never start a morning without caffeine of some kind. (That is, if you can handle the buzz.) Fortunately, this mobile coffee shop was handy.
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Sometimes you just gotta go an’ have a beer. When you haven’t had a client in weeks, though … well, the cheaper the beer, the better it tastes.
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And a woman spoke, saying, “Tell us of Pain.”
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, “On Pain”
And he said: Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.
Even as the stone of the fruit must break, that its heart may stand in the sun, so must you know pain.
And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy;
And you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields.
And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.
Much of your pain is self-chosen.
It is the bitter potion by which the physician within you heals your sick self.
Therefore trust the physician, and drink his remedy in silence and tranquillity:
For his hand, though heavy and hard, is guided by the tender hand of the Unseen,
And the cup he brings, though it burn your lips, has been fashioned of the clay which the
Potter has moistened with His own sacred tears.
Total ARC: 60,463
Poses by PosESioN
Teleport to Tokyo-Windhill City (SSOC region). You will not land in the park, as this is a sim with a dedicated landing point! Exit the arcade you land in, then open the Map and change the Location numbers to 133 / 209 / 33, so you will get a beacon to walk toward (no flying allowed in the sim). The park will lie northeast of your landing point, 1-2 minutes’ walk.)
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.”
William Butler Yeats
Great grandfather’s farm is still there
Judy Collins, “Secret Gardens”
But it isn’t the same ….
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Some of my fondest memories are of a barn, such as the one you can just make out behind me here. After all, I may be much a product of cities and college these days, but I started out as a country girl in rural Michigan.
Read more about the secret gardens of my heart ….“Mardi Gras, baby. Mardi Gras. Time when all manner of weird shit cuts loose and parties down.”
— Sherrilyn Kenyon, No Mercy
We were walking down Bourbon Street the other night, and came across this sign outside the Absinthe Cafe. Can’t think of a better argument in favor of bacon, can you …?
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I am that woman who would wait for dawn,
Nor slept while the slow moon rode into sight;
Who, fighting weariness, gazed full upon
The starry circle drawn around the night.
I saw the Milky Way fade like a cloud,
And, drowsy-lidded, watched the distance grow
Between me and the Pleiades, nor bowed
To heavy hands of sleep upon my brow.
Then, when night grew more stilly palpitate
Listening for the faint birth-cry of morn,
And the cock crew, I, at the very gate,
Fell into cloddish slumber, all out-worn.
Even as I slept, soft as a look or sigh,
The Dawn with Love beside her passed me by.
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Sara Bard Field, “Could You Not Watch With Me One Little Hour.” Poetry, vol. 25, no. 4, 1925, p. 191.
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I’m wearing:
Total ARC: 43,900
Photographed at The Four Seasons (Orinoco Valley region)
It appears that I’m doomed to frustration whenever I encounter the Tokyo transportation system. The best I can figure out, I’ve missed my train.
The good thing is that someone stops by and notices my problem, and she helps me work out when the next train in the right direction will come along.
I’m wearing:
Diana wears:
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My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Sister Gatling Gun of Love and Mercy.
My Johari window -- visit and offer your ideas on my personality
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