Libro de Arena

Teresa ha escrito:

Hoy he recibido este correo, quizá explique algunas cosas... y aunque al ponerlo aquí me esté saltando su principal mensaje... ahí va:

"Usted tiene el hábito de juntar objetos inútiles en este momento, creyendo que un día (no sabe cuando) podrá precisar de ellos.

Usted tiene el hábito de juntar dinero sólo para no gastarlo, pues piensa en el futuro podrá hacer falta.

Usted tiene hábito de guardar ropa, zapatos, muebles, utensilios domésticos y otras cosas del hogar que ya no usa hace bastante tiempo.

..Y dentro suyo?...Usted tiene el hábito de guardar broncas, resentimientos, tristezas, miedos, etc.

No haga eso. Es anti-prosperidad.

Es preciso crear un espacio, un vacío, para que las cosas nuevas lleguen a su vida.

Es preciso eliminar lo que es inútil en usted y en su vida, para que la prosperidad venga.

Es la fuerza de ese vacío que absorberá y atraerá todo lo que usted desea.

Mientras usted está material o emocionalmente cargando cosas viejas e inútiles, no habrá espacio abierto para nuevas oportunidades.

Los bienes precisan circular. Limpie los cajones, los armarios, el cuarto del fondo, el garaje.

Dé lo que usted no usa más.

La actitud de guardar un montón de cosas inútiles amarra su vida.

No son los objetos guardados que estancan su vida, sino el significado de la actitud de guardar.

Cuando se guarda, se considera la posibilidad de falta, de carencia.

Es creer que mañana podrá faltar, y usted no tendrá medios de proveer sus necesidades.

Con esa postura, usted está enviando dos mensajes para su cerebro y para su vida:

1º... usted no confía en el mañana

2º... usted cree que lo nuevo y lo mejor NO son para usted, ya que se alegra con guardar cosas viejas e inútiles.

Deshágase de lo que perdió el color y el brillo y deje entrar lo nuevo en su casa... y dentro de si mismo...

Amigos queridos, después de leer esto, no lo guarden".

http://www.librodearena.com/materiaoscura/post/2008/02/23/el-principio-del-vacio-

New Yorker Gnome

I have long made staying at the Algonquin one of the highlights of my visits to Manhattan. Last week, Galway Kinnell's visit with Lee Quinn embellished my experience. Among many clever things, he said that "to tell the truth, I was getting sick of rhymes and meter, just plain sick of it, and I quit writing rhyme and meter forever." He is a memorizer and recited Yeats' Innisfree poem; later he recited Dylan Thomas' work. To answer another of Lee's questions he said he was influenced by Edgar Allan Poe, and that he felt, as a young man, that no one had written poetry after Poe. Then, and this one went over most people's heads, that he "fell upon Emily Dickinson with great joy." Upon saying that, he looked out into the audience with a grin, a mischevious grin that prompted people to laugh. He told about the time he was asked to teach a year of Walt Whitman's work. The book they sent him lay "around the house for a while and then picked it up and read it and realized why he [Whitman] was so unpopular. His poems were awful." But the sixteenth poem he read was beautiful." He added that "Whitman is appealing because of the music in his poetry" and "Whitman had shown himself to be an adventurer close to Dickinson" an observation that echoes remarks I've heard my dear professor of poetry say during lecture. Lee asked him if there was a poet he considered risky. I do not know what she meant by "risky," but Kinnell thought for a moment and began to say Dylan Thomas, but folks in the audience had to remind him of the name. He said Thomas's work was so beautiful that he read him only once per week to give himself time to forget his style. Hold on and don't follow someone else's music, he implied. It was at this point that he began to recite one of Dylan's poems. Afterwards, he said he "felt thrilled when one of my students wrote a great poem . . . and properly morose when they did not." What is something to tell an emerging poet asked Lee: Keep your senses alert; maintain sense power and facilities, the alertness that you were born with.

Gnome in Diner

Love diners. Do not love the pain in my belly after eating the food. Sally said the oil they use to cook affects her belly, too. I adore the romantic notions now behind Route 66, its diners, and all that they imply: A part of Americana that is cherished by many people; a part of Americana that entices some folks to hop in car and drive to other states down Route 66, stopping at diners for a friendly experience while they rest from the images flashing past as they roll down the highways.

Slideshow

Evelyn sent me a slideshow of beautiful photographs. Don't know who took them to thank her/him. I began to wonder about what she had to do to put herself in the position to take these wonderful photos. There is a clue in the mention in one of the captions of a snowmobile. Click on link above to watch the slideshow.

At Photo Club

We practiced Black & White photography this evening at our local photography club. Indy explained that for digital we can fiddle with the contrast during post processing on the computer. This is my fave photo, black & and white or color.

Sunset and Clouds

Gnome at Sunset

I went out to the lake to photograph the sunset when a fisherman appeared with his net. I told him that if he stopped by the Wild Bird Rescue Center nearby, he would find some of the photos I took of him. I like to share my photos with my subjects.


A nice man brought an injured pigeon to Wild Bird Rescue Center. I had just finished practicing photography. While chatting with BirdManBob the man drove up in a Cadillac. "Maybe he'll donate some money," I said to BirdManBob. The man handed us a pet carrier containing a white pigeon. He said his dog had caught her and that he'd chased the dog around for a while. BirdManBob lead him inside the center. When folks bring injured birds, they fill out a form with information on the bird's situation, such as where they found it, what more or less occurred to cause its injuries, and then if they wish they include their address. Sometimes they leave a donation. Inside the nursing room in the center, I held the pigeon while BirdManBob checked her for injuries, then dabbed antibiotic ointment on her wound, after which he weighed her, and then tucked her in her cage. Aside from looking frightened, I think she'll do okay.

Bird Doo on Gnome's Car

Someone buy my T-bird so that I can park my station wagon in the garage again.

Gnome's Afternoon with Hodge

Time spent as a blur: Time goes by fast when you are having fun.

Gnome Downtown with Soos and Ellen

Good Grief, Goes Gnome

This is a photo of one of the fellows with whom I share my crop of pecans every year. Since we had a bumper crop this year, we had enough to take to Jean and Jack, who nibble on pecans every day for breakfast.


A large monument marks the original resting place of long gone -- but never forgotten -- cousin William.


The marker for an unknown departed seemed especially thought-provoking.


Good Grief! Not sellable, and so I remain the proud owner of this thing. No one wanted it as much as I do, and it reflected in the final amount at the auction: Not even close to its Blue Book value, which is the least I expected. Fine, I'll keep it in my garage and I will do so gladly, for surely I have better business sense than to let go of this car for a pittance.

Gnome on a Sunday

My Dachsund often looks sweet, or I could think he looks guilty. I think it depends on my perceptions.


Kisses kept me company while I read Harold Bloom's "The Art of Reading Poetry."


Hodge, though, felt much more interested in Seamus Heaney's translation of "Beowulf."


I was instructed by my squirrel-chasing spaniel to look up this tree at a squirrel. The squirrel hid well. I don't see him: Do you? I see it helps to have a good nose.


I'm dabbling more in abstract and thought this image would work okay.


Off Hodge traipsed for more squirrel chasing.


This leaf all by itself reflected the beauty of nature.


My Mr. Mallory and I drove my '63 Thunderbird for the last time today. It goes into auction on New Year's Day. Hate, just hate to see it go, but I need someone who will give it more TLC to own it. As it is, it just sits in my garage while I drive the vehicle I prefer to drive, the Jaguar.

Speechless Gnome

Bhenazir Bhutto (1953-2007)

Photo from Reuters

Gnome under Mistletoe

My Mr. Mallory got a kiss from me under the mistletoe pictured here.

Gnome in Tune

I tagged along with the choir and took photographs.


My friend lays her head back as she sings, beautifully, "Silent Night" while Helen and her family listen from inside her home.


Forster leads the group while ringing the bells.


Father looks surprised.


This is my favorite photograph.

Woman Having Fun: Un-muzzled and Indomitable Yoani

www.desdecuba.com/generaciony

Gnome at Beaks End

I photographed BirdManBob medicating a female Great Horned Owl. He and Marty made sure that she can fly now, after spending a few days at Wild Bird Rescue recuperating from her injuries.

The Great Horned Owl was found caught in barbed wire. A lady rescued her and brought her to us. Today she will release the owl in the same place she found her. Remarkable looking creature.

Gnome in the Garden

I sat outside this evening and admired the colors of the leaves enhanced by the rays of the setting sun.

Hodge romped but stood still, momentarily, for a snapshot.

My fellow gnome, shown here sitting on a gazebo, is also a birdwatcher and one who looks after them. Here I show him as he looks through a pair of binoculars at the bird feeders near the back door.

I took pictures as Mr. Mallory grilled a swordfish steak for our supper this evening. Before darkness, I noted the sunset looked remarkable, as it does often in Texas. I could see some of the colors through the branches of the trees that surround me. After the sun set, the lights lit up the trees.

Gnome Will Meet with Fellow Wufflers

"Is our town 'guerrillarized' enough in the arts?" You've heard of the "Guerrilla Girls" or is it the "Gorilla Girls?" Not sure about the spelling in spite of their strong and cherished message; I do feel sure, though, that Schnauzer seems one of the most enthusiastic aritistic editors I may every know. He has a cover for our issue, out in June I hope, already. My fellow Wufflers Schnauzer, Badger and Larkspur will gather with me on Thursday for what I predict will be a delightful banter about our work. I will update them on the groundwork Badger and I have done recently and then settle in to sip tea and enjoy listening to their plans. What a grand group has come together for the benefit of our artists, authors and community members!

Another Woman Having Fun

Image from wpra.com.


Image from cowgirl.net.


Image from bbhc.org.

"Dad says, 'Babe, you better watch him, he's a little stout.' Well, that should have warned me because dad never warned me of anything. You just get on and take your bumps," she said. "Holy moly, old Bashful Boy popped me back off my rigging and took my heels and he threw me so hard I plowed a furrow you could have planted potatoes in. Dad's version of it was, 'That horse threw her so high the birds planted a nest in her pocket before she hit the ground.' -- said Jan Youren, who retired from rodeoing at age 64, a six-time Rodeo Champion.