Wednesday, April 30, 2014

All my life’s a struggle with water and wind








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All my life’s a struggle with water and wind.
two against one must be my story—
as I make my way into the earth
under the waves. There’s no country
I can call my own. But I’ve learned
to grow strong by being still. I know
if I fail I’ll be broken, and all
that’s part of me will be torn from me.
Let me find my place
among the stones, and be held.



–Lawrence Raab
from The Word Exchange
Anglo-Saxon Poems in Translation








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thebeautywelove
Claudiu Tarziu
vivre !


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Tuesday, April 29, 2014

on presence and absence







 
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VIETNAM. A Vietcong graveyard where slain fighters of the front lie buried beneath headstones with five-pointed stars. 
Villagers make sure the warriors’ souls will not “wander through eternity” by feeding their cows (later to be eaten) on the grass that grows over the graves.

















Monday, April 28, 2014

days breaking








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Each day is a little life: every waking and rising a little birth, every fresh morning a little youth, every going to rest and sleep a little death.

–Arthur Schopenhauer






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Thursday, April 24, 2014

Helpless









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Wednesday, April 23, 2014

no escape







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And I knew that the Spirit that had gone forth to shape the world and make it live was still alive in it. I just had no doubt. I could see that I lived in the created world, and it was still being created. I would be part of it forever. There was no escape. The Spirit that made it was in it, shaping it and reshaping it, sometimes lying at rest, sometimes standing up and shaking itself, like a muddy horse, and letting the pieces fly.

–Wendell Berry







Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Friendship , excerpt



 
 
 
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The only element that introduces existence in the universe is death.


–Georges Bataille
Hager Weslati translation






 
 
 
 
 
 






Monday, April 21, 2014

the promise






 
 
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Resurrection means that the worst thing is never the last thing.


–Frederick Buechner

Sunday, April 20, 2014

consolation








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You now have sorrow;
but I shall see you again
and your heart shall rejoice
and your joy no one shall take from you.

Behold me:
I have had for a little time toil and torment,
and now have found great consolation.

I will console you,
as one is consoled by his mother.
 
 
 


 
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 wait - what? 
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Saturday, April 19, 2014

The Dead








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The dead are always looking down on us, they say.

While we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich,

they are looking down through the glass bottom boats of heaven

as they row themselves slowly through eternity.

They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,

and when we lie down in a field or on a couch,

drugged perhaps by the hum of a long afternoon,

they think we are looking back at them,

which makes them lift their oars and fall silent

and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.

 

–Billy Collins






 
 














Friday, April 18, 2014

Lie Still, Sleep Becalmed








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Lie still, sleep becalmed, sufferer with the wound
In the throat, burning and turning. All night afloat
On the silent sea we have heard the sound
That came from the wound wrapped in the salt sheet.

Under the mile off moon we trembled listening
To the sea sound flowing like blood from the loud wound
And when the salt sheet broke in a storm of singing
The voices of all the drowned swam on the wind.

Open a pathway through the slow sad sail,
Throw wide to the wind the gates of the wandering boat
For my voyage to begin to the end of my wound,
We heard the sea sound sing, we saw the salt sheet tell.
Lie still, sleep becalmed, hide the mouth in the throat,
Or we shall obey, and ride with you through the drowned.


–Dylan Thomas







 

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

There is more to death than funeral homes

  


Apr 13, 2014


Death educator Rochelle Martin compares a home funeral to a home birth, except there are no risks because the person is already dead.

In an afternoon workshop, she spoke about the resurgence in home-based, end-of-life care.

Loved ones are cared for in surroundings that are familiar to friends and family, lying in a place of honour for three days — usually, before they are transferred for a funeral service, burial or cremation.

"It's pretty intimidating to walk up to a coffin in a funeral parlour, just the anxiety — there is something about just having it happen naturally around you, for children and adults that makes it less scary," Martin said.

The registered nurse and certified end-of-life and home funeral care guide was at Homegrown Hamilton Sunday afternoon. The café was filled with about 30 people who came to learn more about after-death care.

She listed the benefits of being cared for in your own home rather than being whisked away and not seen again until the funeral. It allows for more visitation time and flexibility, creates a natural flow of events and emotions and can diminish fears about death and dying.

"It teaches kids about the life cycle and the reality of death, to embrace grief and loss as a part of life," Martin said.

It's non-invasive to the deceased, can be eco-friendly and it's a heck of a lot cheaper.

Martin broke down the cost of a basic, conventional funeral. After $2,295 for a metal casket, $250 for removal transfer and $1,817 for basic service fees among several other costs, a cheap funeral costs about $8,000.

With a home funeral, if you splurged on a cardboard coffin for $125 (the biggest cost), add $15 for the death certificate and another $15 for three sheets of Techni-Ice (dry ice packaged in a flexible polymer), you're looking at under $200.

"Saving the costs to me is important, I don't want people to inherit big bills," said Michel Proulx, 75.

Proulx always hated the cold and the idea of cremation appealed to him over being buried in a cold plot. But after Sunday's workshop, the financial details may have swayed him.

"I think the do-it-yourself has more dignity and respect, it's more personal," said retired palliative nurse Samantha Emmerson, who is considering a home funeral.

She already knew quite a bit about the topic, including the fact that it's legal in Canada, but wanted to know more.

The second half of the discussion was a demonstration in which Martin offered tips to make the experience easy and enjoyable, including how to transport the body, keep it cool, wash and present it for visitation.

"If you cared for a loved one before death, you can care for them after death — it's the same thing."



Stacey Escott 







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 thespec












Tuesday, April 15, 2014




















Sunday, April 13, 2014

I never went away







 
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I stood by your bed last night, I came to have a peep.
I could see that you were crying, You found it hard to sleep.
I whined to you softly as you brushed away a tear,
"It’s me, I haven’t left you, I’m well, I’m fine, I’m here."

I was close to you at breakfast, I watched you pour the tea,
You were thinking of the many times, your hands reached down to me.
I was with you at the shops today, Your arms were getting sore.
I longed to take your parcels, I wish I could do more.

I was with you at my grave today, You tend it with such care.
I want to re-assure you, that I’m not lying there.
I walked with you towards the house, as you fumbled for your key.
I gently put my paw on you, I smiled and said ” it’s me.”

You looked so very tired, and sank into a chair.
I tried so hard to let you know, that I was standing there.
It’s possible for me, to be so near you everyday.
To say to you with certainty, “I never went away.”

You sat there very quietly, then smiled, I think you knew…
In the stillness of that evening, I was very close to you.
The day is over… I smile and watch you yawning
and say “good-night, God bless, I’ll see you in the morning.”

And when the time is right for you to cross the brief divide,
I’ll rush across to greet you and we’ll stand, side by side.
I have so many things to show you, there is so much for you to see.
Be patient, live your journey out…then come home to be with me.

–Author Unknown









Saturday, April 12, 2014

peonies








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This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open —
pools of lace,
white and pink —
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities —
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again —
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?


–Mary Oliver









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Thursday, April 10, 2014

my father moved through dooms of love








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my father moved through dooms of love
through sames of am through haves of give,
singing each morning out of each night
my father moved through depths of height

this motionless forgetful where
turned at his glance to shining here;
that if(so timid air is firm)
under his eyes would stir and squirm

newly as from unburied which
floats the first who,his april touch
drove sleeping selves to swarm their fates
woke dreamers to their ghostly roots

and should some why completely weep
my father's fingers brought her sleep:
vainly no smallest voice might cry
for he could feel the mountains grow.

Lifting the valleys of the sea
my father moved through griefs of joy;
praising a forehead he called the moon
singing desire into begin

joy was his song and joy so pure
a heart of star by him could steer
and pure so now and now so yes
the wrists of twilight would rejoice

keen as midsummer's keen beyond
conceiving mind of sun will stand,
so strictly(over utmost him
so hugely)stood my father's dream

his flesh was flesh his blood was blood:
no hungry man but wished him food;
no cripple wouldn't creep one mile
uphill to only see him smile.

Scorning the pomp of must and shall
my father moved through dooms of feel;
his anger was as right as rain
his pity was as green as grain

septembering arms of year extend
less humbly wealth to foe and friend
than he to foolish and to wise
offered immeasurable is

proudly and(by octobering flame
beckoned)as earth will downward climb,
so naked for immortal work
his shoulders marched against the dark

his sorrow was as true as bread:
no liar looked him in the head;
if every friend became his foe
he'd laugh and build a world with snow.

My father moved through theys of we,
singing each new leaf out of each tree
(and every child was sure that spring
danced when she heard my father sing)

then let men kill which cannot share,
let blood and flesh be mud and mire,
scheming imagine,passion willed,
freedom a drug that's bought and sold

giving to steal and cruel kind,
a heart to fear,to doubt a mind,
to differ a disease of same,
conform the pinnacle of am

though dull were all we taste as bright,
bitter all utterly things sweet,
maggoty minus and dumb death
all we inherit,all bequeath

and nothing quite so least as truth
—i say though hate were why man breathe—
because my father lived his soul
love is the whole and more than all


–E. E. Cummings








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not to worry



 
 



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There is no death in nature. Just a reshuffling of atoms.
 
—Gj
Top of the Lake
 


 
 
 
 
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Wednesday, April 9, 2014

how should it know?


 



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And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the desert, running toward the Gulf, below sea level, to murmur its lullaby, and see the Imperial Valley rise out of burning sand with cotton blossoms, wheat, watermelons, roses, how should it know? 

—Carl Sandburg
Good Morning America, 1928
 
















Tuesday, April 8, 2014

now i lay me down to sleep












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Monday, April 7, 2014

the place of rest











Unto the deep the deep heart goes,
It lays its sadness nigh the breast:
Only the Mighty Mother knows
The wounds that quiver unconfessed.
It seeks a deeper silence still;
It folds itself around with peace,
Where thoughts alike of good or ill
In quietness unfostered cease.

It feels in the unwounding vast
For comfort for its hopes and fears:
The Mighty Mother bows at last;
She listens to her children's tears.

Where the last anguish deepens -- there
The fire of beauty smites through pain:
A glory moves amid despair,
The Mother takes her child again. 


–A. E. (George William Russell)





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Sunday, April 6, 2014

what happens to people who die with no next of kin







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'Unblinking and unsettling, this documentary lays bare a mysterious process that goes on all around us - what happens to people who die with no next of kin.

Dead bodies in various stages of decomposition are seen, but not played for shock factor. Instead, you learn a little about each person, both what they were before death and what will happen to them afterward. They are followed from the discovery of the body to the final disposition of the remains, and each step in between.'











Saturday, April 5, 2014

I live my life in growing orbits








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I live my life in growing orbits
which move out over the things of this world,
Perhaps I can never achieve the last,
but that will be my attempt.

I am circling around God,
around the ancient tower,
and I have been circling for a thousand years,

And I still don't know if I am a falcon,
or a storm,
or a great song.


Rainer Maria Rilke









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no regrets











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Friday, April 4, 2014

At Galway Races







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HERE where the course is,
Delight makes all of the one mind,
The riders upon the galloping horses,
The crowd that closes in behind: 

We, too, had good attendance once, 
Hearers and hearteners of the work;
Aye, horsemen for companions, 

Before the merchant and the clerk
Breathed on the world with timid breath.


Sing on: somewhere at some new moon, 
We'll learn that sleeping is not death, 
Hearing the whole earth change its tune, 
Its flesh being wild, and it again 
Crying aloud as the racecourse is,
And we find hearteners among men 

That ride upon horses.

–W. B. Yeats
(1865-1939)
       
       
       
       
       
       
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Thursday, April 3, 2014

Bringing End-of-Life Care Back Home







  
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A generation ago the baby boomers brought back home births. Recently there has been a resurgence in home-based end-of-life care.  As a natural extension of home hospice care, families are choosing to care for the body of their deceased loved one themselves, at home.


Meaningful, personalized home funeral care allows family and friends to say good-bye to their loved one in a more familiar and natural setting, and in their own way and time.  Slowing down the process allows all involved to absorb the loss at their own pace.  Home funeral care can be a profound final expression of love for someone who has died.

read more at: funeral alternatives








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thank you,
buffleheadcabin

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Wednesday, April 2, 2014

not to worry












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Tuesday, April 1, 2014

The Wish to Be Generous



 




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All that I serve will die, all my delights,
the flesh kindled from my flesh, garden and field,
the silent lilies standing in the woods,
the woods, the hill, the whole earth, all
will burn in man's evil, or dwindle
in its own age. Let the world bring on me
the sleep of darkness without stars, so I may know
my little light taken from me into the seed
of the beginning and the end, so I may bow
to mystery, and take my stand on the earth
like a tree in a field, passing without haste
or regret toward what will be, my life
a patient willing descent into the grass.

–Wendell Berry
 








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