Sing Sing Sing
Every once in a while, I get a comment that changes my entire day.This time, after my most recent post, there he was...
Art James always leaves the absolutely most BEAUTIFUL and interesting prose in comments. It is as if he is putting his arm around my shoulders and saying "everything is going to be alright". His comments sing.
Gads. That a first read. What Gifts seem to proceed.
alexis james said it so eloquently. She's sweet. Lucky.
I nickname that chow-wow-wow. Lucky Cute Puppy.
`
I read slow. I saw your drawers, dog chewing legs,
and always love your musical selections you share.
It's best just to affirm. You're eloquent Life's Story.
HerStory.
HisStory.
Your Gift.
None ever get "it" together - as in we tell all. Sigh.
I agree we must write. Diary. Novel. Song. Paint.
Whatever.
I remember an Encounter that was wonderful.
In the eighties I was invited to Santa Barbara.
Gene Knudson Hoffman paid my air fare.
She is worth Googling. She read of me.
Before Internet I was Outspoken.
I was front page in USA TODAY.
I find it kind of sad. Not funny.
I've had a few 'death threats'`
My war medals gathered dust.
I retuned war-medals. Sighs.
I knew S. Brain Wilson too.
I casually knew Pelican too.
He drum - Jefferson Airplane.
He was a drummer for a bit.
He "fell-out" and was glum.
`
You help me recall memories:
In California that cute Monk?
He didn't need to hear sadness.
He smiled and sang a brief song.
There was No need to confess.
I wanted to tell and apologize.
`
Thich Nhat Hanh sang to me:
`
*
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
Nothing to worry about or say.
*
`
The cute big ear Monk said more.
He's speak softly this to you too.
Folk like you are helping others.
You are a Light at a candle wick.
Your Life is LIGHT (keys stuck).
Your a Guide holding a candle.
You smell like sweet beeswax.
`
There are some Life events to:
Hold gently within. Treasures.
You etc., can also be shushed.
Confess some 'stuff' quietly.
Cherish some secrets. Bless.
WE don't need to share all.
Awe
Heals
Bless
I've met people like you.
Different. Similar. You.
They endured hardship.
I've listened ref clutter.
Drawers were emptied.
`
You transformed yourself.
You don't need to die young.
You confess others wrongs.
`
W. B. Yeats loved Maud MacBride.
Fellow Dublins may listen and say:
`
Ah, sure. What does S/he know?'
`
Out of great sadness came insights.
`
The Pity of Love - W. B. Yeats - (Beauty)
`
A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart that loves;
The folks who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above,
The cold winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,
Threaten the head that I love.
`
It's an "unfortunate poem" if it's what?
The poem was "anthologized" so much?
I love that short poem on a topic - Love.
We all can spiel, rant, vent, and ` Love.
We/you/me never need be apologetic.
I hope I conveyed a truth made Real.
Real. You helped me affirm. Love.
We can be Silent. We also 'Speak'`
Love. WE can speak much. Silent.
You have a inner 'rich' a`tempo`
I sense refined temperament.
We can say too much. Silent.
We may obfuscate. Lucid?
I read You. Affirm. Love.
I tried to write lucid slow.
I am saying You help us.
There is a time to speak.
Also - A time to refrain.
Whatever . . . .
Thanks for your gifts.
You share. We benefit.
I gonna hush and read.
I read Yahoo! bah news,
'Democracy Now' and:
Browse the blogosphere.
Amy Goodman - etcetera.
This flowed from wounds.
Thanks. Nothing to say,
Nowhere to go - Love.
That word says it - Awe.
on and on ... Good day.
It will be a wild day too. 
alexis james said it so eloquently. She's sweet. Lucky.
I nickname that chow-wow-wow. Lucky Cute Puppy.
`
I read slow. I saw your drawers, dog chewing legs,
and always love your musical selections you share.
It's best just to affirm. You're eloquent Life's Story.
HerStory.
HisStory.
Your Gift.
None ever get "it" together - as in we tell all. Sigh.
I agree we must write. Diary. Novel. Song. Paint.
Whatever.
I remember an Encounter that was wonderful.
In the eighties I was invited to Santa Barbara.
Gene Knudson Hoffman paid my air fare.
She is worth Googling. She read of me.
Before Internet I was Outspoken.
I was front page in USA TODAY.
I find it kind of sad. Not funny.
I've had a few 'death threats'`
My war medals gathered dust.
I retuned war-medals. Sighs.
I knew S. Brain Wilson too.
I casually knew Pelican too.
He drum - Jefferson Airplane.
He was a drummer for a bit.
He "fell-out" and was glum.
`
You help me recall memories:
In California that cute Monk?
He didn't need to hear sadness.
He smiled and sang a brief song.
There was No need to confess.
I wanted to tell and apologize.
`
Thich Nhat Hanh sang to me:
`
*
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
Nothing to worry about or say.
*
`
The cute big ear Monk said more.
He's speak softly this to you too.
Folk like you are helping others.
You are a Light at a candle wick.
Your Life is LIGHT (keys stuck).
Your a Guide holding a candle.
You smell like sweet beeswax.
`
There are some Life events to:
Hold gently within. Treasures.
You etc., can also be shushed.
Confess some 'stuff' quietly.
Cherish some secrets. Bless.
WE don't need to share all.
Awe
Heals
Bless
I've met people like you.
Different. Similar. You.
They endured hardship.
I've listened ref clutter.
Drawers were emptied.
`
You transformed yourself.
You don't need to die young.
You confess others wrongs.
`
W. B. Yeats loved Maud MacBride.
Fellow Dublins may listen and say:
`
Ah, sure. What does S/he know?'
`
Out of great sadness came insights.
`
The Pity of Love - W. B. Yeats - (Beauty)
`
A pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart that loves;
The folks who are buying and selling,
The clouds on their journey above,
The cold winds ever blowing,
And the shadowy hazel grove
Where mouse-grey waters are flowing,
Threaten the head that I love.
`
It's an "unfortunate poem" if it's what?
The poem was "anthologized" so much?
I love that short poem on a topic - Love.
We all can spiel, rant, vent, and ` Love.
We/you/me never need be apologetic.
I hope I conveyed a truth made Real.
Real. You helped me affirm. Love.
We can be Silent. We also 'Speak'`
Love. WE can speak much. Silent.
You have a inner 'rich' a`tempo`
I sense refined temperament.
We can say too much. Silent.
We may obfuscate. Lucid?
I read You. Affirm. Love.
I tried to write lucid slow.
I am saying You help us.
There is a time to speak.
Also - A time to refrain.
Whatever . . . .
Thanks for your gifts.
You share. We benefit.
I gonna hush and read.
I read Yahoo! bah news,
'Democracy Now' and:
Browse the blogosphere.
Amy Goodman - etcetera.
This flowed from wounds.
Thanks. Nothing to say,
Nowhere to go - Love.
That word says it - Awe.
on and on ... Good day.
It will be a wild day too.
The irony here is, I was out with my friend Jerry Atwood. We talked of how all our years together we stayed "closeted". Why? You can be fired in Houston, or at that time you could, for being gay. And I was fired from two companies just for that reason. I also wanted to protect my family, unsuccessfully. I do not look gay, but you can only bring another woman to so many functions before someone pulls a Where's Waldo.
"You need to write a book."
But that was inconceivable. To share my life's experiences, being a bible belt married woman, turning away from all that I knew at age 33 to find myself strangly attracted to another woman, my struggles and successes in my career along the way, and a horrific outcome.
Jerry wanted to know where this desire of my life being an open book has come from. Well, it's either write or drink. Writing is cheaper.
I was a very private person. My family realized a presitigous reputation. Often in my teenage years, after some wild haired teenage indiscretion, it was not uncommon for my father to say
"How can I show my face in church?"
or
"I have to read from the pulpit, what are people gonna think?"
Probably nothing more than what they think of you cleaning your teeth with a ten dollar bill during mass.
I had respected that privacy - until the worst happened and my ONLY recourse, and therapy, was to write. It has been cathartic. This open seeping wound heals with each post.
When the worst happened, and sadly,I found the reality of family and friends to be far different than I had always envisioned.
I was told "Oh, you don't need any help, you will come out shining, you always do."
That was their way of saying "I don't want to get involved"
The people that did come through were the ones I would NEVER have projected. With the internet, folks need to rethink their actions, especially if they are witnessed.
(The Truth Has Witnesses© ) .
It is far better -in the long run, to face up to your indiscretions before someone forces you to. Someone may choose to write a "short biography to get even" (Vivian Bell Desert Hearts.) And in the end, I had nothing to lose. I had already lost EVERYTHING. The only thing someone can take from me now is my life.
Each post takes several hours. Formatting the text, adding music, which alone takes over an hour until I find the exact song. Then, keeping up the Blog directory to make the read more seamless, and keeping the index on the left up to date.
After each post I have to go into the previous to update the link "Next Page" which is at the end of the post, and finally, the If It Seems Too Good To Be True mix of all the blog's songs on YouTube But it is worth it if even ONE person can gain.
.
I do this for you and me. So please HONEST critique. And if a song does not work for whatever reason, please tell me, same for the links etc. I appreciate it.
I look forward to each and every comment. We all want ratings, but I treasure the comments. They are a daily gift. Like a shot of Xanax!
So, here it is, my shining.
And Art, what a gift!
ALL OF YOU - yes indeed, what a gift.
Page 1 Why did you try to kill yourself
Music: Travis/Sing
By the way IISTG means If It Seems Too Good to be True
By the way IISTG means If It Seems Too Good to be True
Yes, this is absolutely positively true. If you lived this wouldn't you write about it? Some of the names of characters in this blog are fictitious. This is an account of actual events. Some of the events have been compiled together for the flow of the story. Even when I read my own work, I wonder how it could be so. But if you study your own life and compartmentalize it into less than 200 pages, you would be surprised how interesting it really is!
TRUTH HAS WITNESSES (DIanne Lindsey) ©
This material is the copyright Dianne Schuch Lindsey and cannot be duplicated in any fashion withoutthe express permission of the Author. All rights reserved ©
are following the book If It Seems too Good to be True, it Probably is.
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Gene Knudsen Hoffman—Quaker peace activist, pastoral counselor, workshop facilitator, poet, columnist, author, actress, and mother of seven children—was born in Los Angeles, California, on January 3, 1919, to Valley (née Filtzer, from the Midwest), and Thorkild (“Tom”) Knudsen, who emigrated from Denmark in 1909 to found a successful dairy business.
On July 19, 2010, Gene died peacefully at Villa Alamar in Santa Barbara, California, where she had lived for six years.
Gene explored peace activism and various psychological and spiritual therapies in the 1970s. She was deeply involved in re-evaluation counseling, and she was instrumental in founding the Night Counseling Center in Santa Barbara. She also hosted the Peace Resource Center in her house, and created the Gathering Place there, a space where people who worked toward bettering the world could meet free of charge.
She taught poetry for personal growth and healing for many years in various venues around Santa Barbara, including at La Casa de Maria and the psych ward at Cottage Hospital.
Gene studied the philosophy of Martin Buber, was fascinated by the life of Muriel Lester, met with David Reynolds to study Morita Therapy in Japan, and went on retreats with Thich Nhat Hanh, buddhist monk and peace activist. She organized a retreat for Vietnam vets with Thich Nhat Hanh, and based the international program she founded, Compassionate Listening, on his teaching that " we must listen to both sides of any conflict before we take actions."
The Compassionate Listening Project's motto is, "An enemy is one whose story we have not heard." Leah Green, executive director of the Compassionate Listening Project, and others continue Gene's work in the world.
Gene received a master's degree in pastoral counseling from Goddard College. She traveled the world to study the peace movement and spent a year as a student at Pendle Hill, a Quaker adult study center near Philadelphia.
A member of the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR) for over fifty years, Gene traveled many times to the Middle East and the former Soviet Union during the 1980s and 1990s to do reconciliation work. She worked with the FOR on the Forbidden Faces and the Seeds for Hope projects in the former U.S.S.R.
Gene has published articles, books, and pamphlets about her experiences in Israel and Palestine, including Pieces of the Mideast Puzzle (1991) and No Royal Road to Reconciliation (1995).
When Alaskan hunters and fishers and indigenous people came into conflict over hunting and fishing rights, Gene helped to arrange Compassionate Listening sessions through the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC).
A Sorcebook of Compassionate Listening is available free online here.
I reread comments about banker. Oy!
Then -
My server pop-up read - Warning:
Something went wrong - "sympatico"
Someone pretends to be my friend.
But -
Popup says my confidential are at risk.
I swear it just happened. I hug people.
If I can't walk to their home barefoot?
I pretend.
O, lovely.
I think it.
I stop by.
Imagine.
`
I sometimes yell-out-loud` Oh Crap. Carp!
I never hurt a flea. Tink makes me giggles.
I wake up and hesitate reading some folks.
`
When a chld the neighbors fished for bass,
crappies, sunfish, bluegill, and big carps.
They have big lips that are puffy and cute.
The Carp is a bottom feeder. It stays low.
We fished for sport. We bragged ref fish.
I recoiled if a carp swallowed my # 6- hook.
I loathed to watch a menace brat gouge eyes.
Then -
War's draft # called. I was drafted to war.
I eye-witnessed carnage, guts spilt, and:
`
I heard B- 52 bombs rumbling. Earth shook!
Later during the night I heard bamboo flute!
I never heard such a sad eulogy again so sad!
`
!
`
In 1993 I went to India to help bury babies.
A rumor was there was underground test!
Arms merchants were testing killing bomb.
If I type a `!' it's because I am feeling it.
I am at a loss to understand these rages.
Depraved beast in human form murder.
They do worst than gouge a fish eye out.
Why I recall a carp fish from youth? huh.
Maybe I'm trying to say "I love always, you.
Some days I sense darkness. Eyes blur shut.
They mist up. I sense the nation as crazed.
`
I am at a loss what to think. I thank you.
It's to assimilate what beauty I can see.
Your Life Story enriches. So - I love you.
`
Shame on self-loathers who shed blood.
I sense misery, insanity, and woe abounds.
If I go on and on I am simply eating you up.
(not literally. let's hold back. let's care/love)
Thanks.
Such a nice thing to say!
BBD, I need to do a search and see how many people have tributed him, I'll bet there are quite a few.
Tink; what a good idea, pass it by Kerry and wait a year for an answer.
Jacob: ????
Alges: Thanks for seeing that personal view.
Jonathan, as always....
And finally
Art:
Your comment prose is a bit heavier than I see from you. Is it something I said? Or is it just the right time of year where sounds and smells, something in the air, that dredged up all that pain.
You are truly remarkable.
Love Much D
Your honest and open posts are always a joy to read and I love your hooks to keep us anticipating the next chapter.
rated with love
This is the first time I got a complaint, and then I get TWO.
I get dozens of emails and PM's asking how to autoplay.
I will move the videos to the top of the post that way all one has to do is immediately click on it before it starts.
That should work for everyone. I do not want to loose any readers because they are not comfortable with the music playing. It has a 15 second pause at the beginning, so that should work for everyone.
Also when I find myself in a situation where the music or ANY noise from the computer could cause problems for those around me, I mute my sound. Most computers have an icon on the bottom right to do so. Or plugging in headphones stopps the extraneous noise.
The internet is always full of surprises. I could remove the music, which would be a shame, but that cannot guarantee that the next site you visit after mine does not have music or automatic showings of one sort or another. It's like Youtube. The songs automatically play, but then again, with youtube you are prepared.
I hope I have solved this for all involved.
Any story should carry enough merit for continued readership if interesting enough. It hurts me to admit this, but if you won't come back because of the music, the story probably wasn't interesting enough for you.
Hopefully this will rectify the situation.
Also my work is in Red Room without the music
Love to all @->-->
D
*are you blushing, Art?*
Some good
Some sad
Suffering
In the woods walking
not at Penn Station
suffering flashbacks
recalling encounters
Auschwitz survivors
Viet ' Nam veterans
`
Life is pain/joy
`
You help sooth
I open my heart
tend my hearth
splits oak wood
sometime sighs
I no go to a war
I wander alone
`
on & on. Thanks
I'll go chop wood
no chop toe offs
I hope I do nots
`
Jacob Freeze etc.,
I bow and heehaw
and honk my nose.
`
How could I be upset Dianne at You/anyone here?
So are you.
I think I got a hernia laffing at the video.
And another wonderful commentor comments
Joan:
I am jealous
Art:
It is not that you would be upset by me Art. just perhaps lost in memories that another could cause one to recollect. But still, I love all you say and do. it rolls out of your mind through your hand and onto the screen with a liquidity few can replicate.
loveuallmuchD
he is a good good egg, maybe
the best in the egg-carton. he tells
me about goats & the benefit of drinking
their milk, and even advised me to go straight
to the goat &...go under the goat...and..well, u get
the idea. i have NOT done that, for art was
funning me. as u say, tis like getting an
arm around the shoulder, and a kind
loving squeeze of the shoulder,
and also a poem in & of itself
from art. he sure loves his
yeats. "pity beyond all telling
Is hid in the heart that loves",
and he loves well, art does.
u say: "in the end, I had
nothing to lose. I had already lost EVERYTHING.
The only thing someone can take from me now is my life."
Not 100 percent true..they can take away your faith
in humanity, which is a dire awful loss i have
suffered much & recovered from..but
as art says, "None ever get "it" together - as in we tell all. Sigh.
I agree we must write. Diary. Novel. Song. Paint.
Whatever.
I remember an Encounter that was wonderful..."
You were the first to see the video as I did.
Con, of course it is a given
James you are very much the conjoined, but not, twin of Art, and art. My father always said, they can take everything from you but your faith and education. If you lose faith, it is because you surrendered it.
He never said anything about love, but I feel love cannot be taken from you, but it can be stolen.
I agree, you cannot predict what ANY page is going to do. If I am in a setting where there may be a problem from sound coming from my computer, i just pickthe sound ICON and mute it.
Far easier than asking the web masters of these pages to change the environment.
And the music goes so well with the posts!
I had an incident where I was invited to a club for a party. I think "Riches". I went to the site and OMG!!!!! It had the loudest most obnoxious club disco. I was at work. I learned to turn off the sound very quickly.
And Art, he is a wonderful soul, I must go visit his site. I will confess I have only read his work here and I agree, his comments are like posts in and of themselves.
And now there is Mr. Ermeling as well.
Going...see ya!
I did hug Joan and Nikki. Free hugs.
Joan H. Hugs. Then - I kissed her.
I wake up at night remembering.
Nikki hugs, dances, cha cha, Ah!
We met in DC's Georgetown.
We went to The Salon. Yep.
The was the real bar name.
Blue stocking Babe sang.
They are great humans.
Invite us over sometimes.
We can play horseshoes.
If it's cold we play inside.
We play in a living room.
I just feel like a goof. Ay!
Your all just projecting.
I sense your very lovely.
We might hop on a sofa.
We can hop up and down.
We sit on whoopy cushion.
Invite all OS commenters.
No forget CHERYL CHE.
She wrote she follow me.
Smile. She is so huggable.
I hope She's no Kerry, huh.
First, it's a lot longer than the ones I get.
Second, he didn't misspell anything.
(I suspect he drinking his Fat Tire (?) beer in
vast quantities when he be writing to me...either that,
or he just stuck his hands in the bee cage to get some honey...)
Third, I suspect he loves you more than he loves me...
:)
Write or drink! How well I can relate...
We are creating a new art form here, one that is simultaneously
individualistic and communal.
Voices in the Wilderness of a World Gone Wrong
shouting or weeping or cajoling or arguing from the rooftops
of a burning Rome.
Thank Gads for our art, and our Art, and you !
Certainly you know size doesn't count!
No Wonder Folks Go stub toes.
I put earplugs in Nose to read.
`
It's easier to be Poked in Belly.
I Hope We can Poke Belly Butt?
No.
Aye, We Tummy Poke Belly Button.
That's not Amoral. It's to Be Touched.
I am Lucky to have Two Belly Buttons.
War Scares. Scars. I Take P.T. Today.
I Get a VAMC Trained Physiologist.
I Ride a Bike that Drive Nowhere.
No Wonder People Get so Loco.
I meant to say just this:
`
I feel like Crab Dancing.
It be Fun to Toss Beans.
We could Sups on Soup.
`
Cook Bean Soup With:
`
248- Red Beans - Rice.
If You use 240- Beans?
It Be 2-,- Forty - Farts.
Can you believe this has resurfaced?