We're all in this together (it's alright, and I put myself in his hands)

Everything is crying out for me to really put things into action. Every inspiring quote and bible verse that has come my way lately. So that's what I'm doing. It's funny how much one can deceive oneself. I mean, I thought I was putting stuf into action, but I wasn't as much as I could, and I knew and and I didn't. Anyway, I'm ever so slightly less scared now, so I am ready to do whatever I may do.

I graduate next Thurday! OMG! Now I'm a big almost uni person I realise they're not so big after all, hehe. Busyily preparing for Lip Sync (doing fantabluous dances from Oliver and High School Musical, hoorah), and writing fuzzy wuzzies, and going to 18ths. Too busy to study. But the HSC is in only a month! HAHAHAHA! Speaking of the HSC, I shan't be posting here much until after I finish and then spend a few weeks in a drunken haze. After that, I shall REVOLUTIONALISE this blog. Until then, fare thee well chickies

(and guess what I just found out...this is post number 200)

"The real woman acts spontaneously. If you ask her a question, your question gets a response, not a reaction. She opens her heart to your question, exposes herself to your question, responds to it..."

You Owe Me Nothing In Return

Alanis Morissette

I'll give you countless amounts of outright acceptance if you want it

I will give you encouragement to choose the path that you want if you need it

You can speak of anger and doubts your fears and freak outs and I'll hold it

You can share your so-called shame filled accounts of times in your life and I won't judge it

(and there are no strings attached to it)

You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give

You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have

I give you thanks for receiving it's my privilege

And you owe me nothing in return

You can ask for space for yourself and only yourself and I'll grant it

You can ask for freedom as well or time to travel and you'll have it

You can ask to live by yourself or love someone else and I'll support it

You can ask for anything you want anything at all and I'll understand it

(and there are no strings attached to it)

You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give

You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have

I give you thanks for receiving it's my privilege

And you owe me nothing in return

I bet you're wondering when the next payback shoe will eventually drop

I bet you're wondering when my conditional police will force you to cough up

I bet you wonder how far you have now danced you way back into debt

This is the only kind of love as I understand it that there really is

You can express your deepest of truths even if it means I'll lose you and I'll hear it

You can fall into the abyss on your way to your bliss I'll empathize with

You can say that you have to skip town to chase your passion and I'll hear it

You can even hit rock bottom have a mid-life crisis and I'll hold it

(and there are no strings attached)

You owe me nothing for giving the love that I give

You owe me nothing for caring the way that I have

I give you thanks for receiving it's my privilege

And you owe me nothing in return

Happy Birthday

All Is Truth
Walt Whitman

O me, man of slack faith so long,
Standing aloof, denying portions so long,
Only aware to-day of compact all-diffused truth,
Discovering to-day there is no lie or form of lie, and can be none,
but grows as inevitably upon itself as the truth does upon itself,
Or as any law of the earth or any natural production of the earth does.

(This is curious and may not be realized immediately, but it must be
realized,
I feel in myself that I represent falsehoods equally with the rest,
And that the universe does.)

Where has fail'd a perfect return indifferent of lies or the truth?
Is it upon the ground, or in water or fire? or in the spirit of man?
or in the meat and blood?

Meditating among liars and retreating sternly into myself, I see
that there are really no liars or lies after all,
And that nothing fails its perfect return, and that what are called
lies are perfect returns,
And that each thing exactly represents itself and what has preceded it,
And that the truth includes all, and is compact just as much as
space is compact,
And that there is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth--but
that all is truth without exception;
And henceforth I will go celebrate any thing I see or am,
And sing and laugh and deny nothing.

...there's a lot of love to go around...

I'm doing cartwheels

...I'm doing cartwheels...

You're really loving this aren't you dear

Now you've got me on the ropes out here

With nowhere else to run to now

Just stay and face the music

It'll all tie me up into knots

...It'll all tie me up into knots...

(Then straighten me out again, more beautiful than before)

Someone believes that Saint John of the Cross should be the patron saint of writers

:)

Father's Day today, and it was pleasant. No dramas, no issues. Dad let us just catch the train just to Burwood, and he picked us up from there and we went and had lunch at the hospital with Annelise. Nice food, pleasant chatting. And he dropped us back to Burwood only a couple of hours later.
I went for a walk and saw so many families having gatherings, and I spied on the next door neighbours who were having a gathering too. Like Christmas and Easter, I love these days where people get together and just hang out or whatever. It reminds me of loveliness. And the air reminded me of Paris and dreams of bliss I am relearning from childhood, although I didn't see them then. The bliss of my Personal Legend, perhaps, hehe. Going back to my roots, the things that always resonated so strongly with my heart, but I had to wander away to go back to them, like The Wizard of Oz. Of course, nothing's over yet, or anywhere near an absolution (I'm slowly coming to terms with that) so I cannot say. All I can say is that...phah, who knows

:)

Don't forget to heart your eyes and cross your teas

Inspired by Saint John of the Cross's writing love poetry to his captors, and also by The Alchemist by Paulo Coehlo, which I just read for about the sixth time or so (something new every time) I have begun a book which I call Love Poetry To The Shadow, For The Light: A Book of Alchemy, and have begun work on its first poem.

I'm scared.
I'm hopeful.

:)

How often has my spirit turned to thee!

Yesterday I heard a little story about Saint John of the Cross...that, while he was imprisoned during the Spanish Inquisition, tortured and all that, he wrote love poetry to his captors :)

*

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you.
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you.
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.
Strike another match, go start anew
And it's all over now, Baby Blue.
--Bob Dylan

*

Now, some lines from Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth (a fabulous name for a poet, I do believe!):

That time is past,
And all its aching joys are now no more,
And all it's dizzying raptures. Not for this
Faint I, nor mourn, nor murmur: other gifts
Have followed, for such loss, I would believe,
Abundant recompence...

And I have felt
A presence that disturbes me with the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime
Of something far more deeply interfused,
Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns,
And the round ocean, and the living air,
And the blue sky, and in the mind of man,
A motion and a spirit, that impels
All thinking things, all objects of thought,
And rolls through all things...

Therefore am I still
A lover of the meadows and the woods,
And mountains; and of all that we behold
From this green earth; of all the mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half create,
And what perceive...

And this prayer I make,
Knowing that Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her, 'tis her privilege,
Through all the years of this our life, to lead
From joy to joy: for she can so inform
The mind that is within us, so impress
With quietness and beauty, and so feed
With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues,
Rash judgements, nor the sneers of selfish men,
Nor greeting where no kindness is, nor all
The dreary intercourse of daily life,
Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb
Our cheerful faith that all we behold
Is full of blessings...