I am listening to one of A. Lincoln's biographies.
I think if they were to make another film about him, Lium Neilson should play him.
Truthfully I got a bit bored and have taken a break to listen to Stephen King's autobiography, but I realize what an important president Lincoln was and how interesting, so intend to finish this book however long, twenty-five to go to be exact.
President Obama said that he modeled himself after President Lincoln and President Reagan as well. It is interesting how back one-hundred years ago the Republicans were the good guys, and the Democrats were the bad guys who wanted slavery.
It is amazing how immoral some of our presidents have been, like Thomas Jefferson who wrote The Declaration of Independence,
they say sold his own daughters. I am not totally sure this is true, but when I was nine and visiting my aunt in New York City, I overheard her and my uncle talking about this at the dinner table with their guests. Well, if I was at the table I was not overhearing it, but of course what I mean is that I had nothing to contribute. I just remember eating artichoke dipping it in lemon butter sauce, leaf by leaf, the way I make it now.
Back to Lincoln, I find this tall man a very interesting person in history. He would get very depressed in the early days and say that if it could go around to everyone, everyone would be sad, at least in so many words.
Back to other presidents, I find it interesting that so many African Americans are named Washington, and I have never met a white person with that name. That says a lot. A close friend who is African American pointed out this to me, and Jefferson as well.
Some people do not believe Lincoln really freed the slaves. I used to be a history major a long time ago, and I am going to do the research and find out exactly what went on. Of course this is all the past, but still interesting. My brother told me that I look like Mary Lincoln, A. Lincoln's wife, so maybe I am the reincarnation. Just kidding.
It is the night when I feel you most near,
when the moon breaks through like one droplet your tear,
Not when the birds sing by dawn's light,
nor my empty insight,
from meditating in the hollowness of my soul.
It is by evening candle light that I am drawn to you,
the glare of the day evaporates all hope that is new,
As if it were vanished from my view.
Tell me Dear, when did I become so empty,
so careless, so fearless, so nothingness,
when sight came in to claim itself within and less without, losing sight of it all,
every star and every bird so lovely?
When did I become this way, intolerant,
raging wars, fighting love, warding off light?
Lord, You prepare a table in the presence of my enemies, and yet where are you now?
I will utter that prayer when life is turbulent,
and I will ask You for deeper insight,
For if I am unable to love, then teach me how.
Since my son returned from India Amartiti
2010, he has enjoyed cooking Indian food. I
usually just cook the rice, usually white rice,
because brown rice takes an hour and a lot
more water if you do not have a pressure
cooker.
These days major grocery stores like
BILO, have a paste for making curry chicken
as well as one for making curry lamb. I suppose if you were a vegetarian, you could
substitute meat with tofu and or vegetables.
I have always felt that eggplant makes a good
substitute for meat in some dishes, although
some Baba people say eggplant is something
Baba said was not good for you. It was not some kind of order, because there are no Baba food orders, but possibly being a night shade vegetable it may not be good for those with arthritis.
To make doll, cook lentils a long time, but not too much water and add cumin, curry, plain yogurt. Cilantra is a good additive as well when cooking Indian food, even though some do not like the taste.
To make the reita, just chop cucumber and or carrots very fine and add to yogurt with cumin, curry and cilantra.
Most major grocery stores carry Indian breads like delicious garlic naan now in the bakery deli section.
For chai, just brew tea with milk, sugar and cardimin. I think that just about somes it up. Bon apetit. If you really want to make a good impression, red carnations are a nice touch. And, remember to pick up mango or
garlic chutny or both in the Indian section of the international food section where the curry paste is near the kosher section usually.
If I could live in any place and
time, it would be Paris, the Left Bank in the twenties, like the Woody Allen movie, Midnight in
Paris.
I would like to hang out with
Gertrude Stein, Picasso, Picasso's mistress, Hemingway, etc.. I would like to drink red wine with
them and strong espresso in little white cups with a lemon peel and talk about art, music, writing and philosophy.
In this day and age many people do not value the artist. For instance, being legally blind and a stay at home person, people say to
me and I find it irritating, "so what do you do all day?"
I feel like giving a smart-ass comment like "I have the same number of hours in a day as everyone else" or maybe even, "nothing, just hang around and stare into space like a
total dead beat."
But, instead I say, "I am a musician and a writer." Sometimes I might add that I pay bills, clean the house, grocery shop, take care of my son who has an illness, socialize, etc.. Unfortunately, I am not a smart-ass. Recently a guy made a rude remark about my eyesight. I told my old mobility instructor's intern, who I am very good friends with way after being a student or his internship, but he said, "you should have said, thank you for showing your ignorance."
Many years ago, Baba informed Elizabeth Patterson that a man named Michael on the fourth plane, a dangerous place for the aspirant and intimidating to others, for the fourth plane person can do miracles, would be coming to the Meher Center, and that he could not stay very long, that she must see to that. Scary, huh?
Michael visited my parents who lived at the Baba Center. I do not recall him. I was very young, a small child. They said he was handsome, rich, charismatic and attractive to the women. He also wore beautiful clothing and carried a velvet money pouch.
He asked my father, "what do you do here?" My father was an artist, but that is not what he said.
My father replied, "I open the gate in the morning and I close it at night." Later that day or the next my father saw him opening the gate with a key for someone.
I thought this an amusing anecdote. I heard that he was giving discourses at the boat house and lots of women went, even my mother I think.
Jesus was present, His love poured down,
In the old church of my youth the gospel
singing held me in its heartfelt soulfulness,
As filled as the Holy Spirit I could e'er be,
I stared up at the ceiling high above me.
Hands in the air in devotion and prayer,
Praising Jesus without reservation,
And surrounded I was by His presence
through this worship and its earthy essence
without pretense.
I felt the Holy Spirit within and without as
every musical note strummed my soul's lament,
There in the church of my younger days baptized, of my sister's wedding,
where all memories complete themselves in the beauty of a violin's song, and heavenly gospel singing.
Praise Jesus, thank you Lord,
His presence is all around me now in the
singing, and I fall into oneness, unity and
love, bringing forth my own devotion to a
God that is not distant nor far, but here and
now within this church of my youth,
Where the gospel singing brings forth truth
and love and light.
Ever so often I feel I need to find something. Of course I will live if I do not
find it, but right now I am looking for a white open cardigan for summer, one just long enough but not too long with long sleeves and the just right material.
There are so many new fabric combinations that are so beautifully soft.
Have you noticed how soft the cotton modal is? Then there are rayon and viscose, natural
fibers as well, machine washable and incredibly soft and comfortable.
I would be happy with any or a combination of these fabrics. I am very touchy-feely. I like to run my fingers over soft material. One of my IQ tests at the Commission for the Blind was feeling and recognizing materials, not just fabrics but other more industrial material with a blindfold. I did really well on this and recognizing patterns blindfolded as well as motor skills. They call all this spacial relations.
I realize the subject of clothing and fabric is mundane, but I have to keep my writing upbeat and positive and not always incredibly deep.
Today I feel a little blue for a few reasons.
I had a bad dream after going back to sleep this morning. It was so intense. I dreamed I went to a party with some friends at some other friends' who are musicians, and no one would let me play or sing.
I was so mad and hurt that I was yelling at everyone. Then they would not take me
home, and since I do not drive I was stuck at
someone's house. They were telling me that
the reason was that I was drunk, although I did not recall drinking anything. Maybe I was a dry drunk.
So I fell asleep on a bed in one of their houses and actually was sleeping in my dream and really tired like a drugged sleep.
Then I awoke and threw off a blanket that had been put over me, still in the dream, not
really awake, dreaming awake, and said,
"I have an eight year old at home. He's all alone. I have to get home to my son!"
Still no one would drive me home, so I decided to walk, not knowing where I was, and there was highway 17 and I knew to go left, but I was so tired. She came out to ask me if I knew the right direction. I said, "yes", but it just seemed so far. I saw a hitch-hiker across the street, the side I needed to be on to hitch-hike, and although I knew it was dangerous, I felt it was the thing to do. All I could think about was, "I have to
get home to my boy. He is only eight years old. He's all alone. I've been gone so long. He is probably really scared and worried."
I woke up feeling relieved to be in my own bed and relieved to be home with my eight year old, and for a moment really believed I still had an eight year old, only ro remember that he is twenty-two and no longer living at home. I do have a son living at home, but he is the older one. It was my
baby I was dreaming about, my youngest.
I felt sad realizing this, that he was grown. Then I went about starting the day.
Someone close to me hurts my feelings from time to time, but I cannot get mad because he is sick. He has cancer. I walked to Goodwill and bought a kelly-green sweater that reminded me of vintage. Walking home the word forgiveness came to my mind and heart like a breath of fresh air, a drink of cool water in the parchment of the desert.
Lately I have felt saddened by small things. A friend who stayed with me for a weekend about a month ago left a stool in the living room. You never move furniture in a blind person's house. It is the only place where they can move confidently without fear of running into stuff or hurting themselves. I fell over the stool and busted my leg open bad in too places. I had large bandages, and then the skin began to renew itself on my shin, but it looks like it will scar. I am putting neosporin ointment on it regularly to prevent scarring. I was self-conscious at the concert, because I had a dress on and it was too hot to wear leggings, hosiery or tights. I thought of wearing boots, but it is May already today, late April then.
Somehow I do not feel the same about the individual that left that stool there, like I have a resentment, and just do not feel the same. Oh well. Being blind is a bitch to tell you the truth, from the lack of independent transportation, to the ignorant remarks, to the
times you hurt yourself because you were too vain to use your cane or someone thoughtlessly left something for you to fall all over.
