the poetic life
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In her no longer singing words
I miss singing every day. I can’t sing anymore. My voice doesn’t work. I have Parkinson’s disease, and it sometimes takes my words away from me. Linda Ronstadt— born this day in 1946
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The Frida Celebration Continues — 4 hours and going…
https://www.clubhouse.com/room/MwW9X8KW
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Frida, in words
“I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.” “They are so damn ‘intellectual’ and rotten that I can’t stand them anymore….I [would] rather sit on the floor in the market of Toluca and sell tortillas, than have anything to do with those ‘artistic’ bitches of Paris.” “I wish I could do whatever…
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A Mortar Animal-Noble Perspective
Our intrinsic drive for growth, understanding and preservation requires neither talent nor inspiration. It is rather an organically flowing existential process. Just as heart and lungs pump, it is our natural automatism. This is the animal us – quotidian, ordinary, simple. It may remain that simple, as we hunt, multiply and rest, with which we…
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Saffron
Song of Solomon (4) 13 Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard, 14 Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon…
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She says she is really detaching herself from earthly pleasures for a bit.
Are earthly pleasures not the very thing which life provides us with so our souls may roam a world in our bodies with joy and curiosity? I wonder.
Sila Blume 