At 05:40 PM 2/10/2008, you wrote: > With gratitude, Marsha, something creative is >happening.
SA, And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. :-) I like your bridge musing. Very much! There a quiet kind of tension, a suspense, because I don't know what will happen next. It's interesting. Marsha > I've also noticed that I remember my dreams. For >the past year or more, that I worked at the very >stressful patterned place, I couldn't remember my >dreams. I couldn't even remember if I dreamed at all. > Some people say you still dream every night/sleep, >but I couldn't even remember if I did or not, except >for every once in a while. Ever since I left that >place, my dreams have returned. I remember them >often. Sometimes my dreams involve where I used to >work at, but even those are dreams I remember. For as >long as I worked at that place, I don't ever remember >dreaming about it. Now that I've left, I'm dreaming >about it. It's not so much what the dreams are about, >for now, though they are indeed interesting. It is >that I'm dreaming and I remember the dreams. I'm >still involved with other events, but I find, at least >for now, some input on this forum is fun. I may be >able to respond and discuss, but I feel I need to >limit my time, for balances sake, to how much I >involve myself on this forum. I'm going to try to >keep other efforts that I'm currently involved with >supported by a motivation that isn't too finely >focused. I'm trying to keep time open for the other >activities. This *bridge* is something that still >stirs, and I would like to share this story with >everybody. > I'll call this story "bridge musing" to further >spin from what is on-going in this discussion. Maybe >it takes some time, a little patience, and then this >happens... > > > > > > bridge musing > > - by SA (now) > > > An ordinary bridge stands erected over the >flowing water. It is wooden with stone foundations. >Arched in such a way, that in this region when the >rains come or the mountain snow melts, the high waters >do not reach over the wooden walk way. Along comes a >bird, a black-capped chickadee to be more exact, and >flying straight in to land upon the middle of this >lovely bridge. Who's hands have built this bridge are >not known, for it is very old. > The chickadee sings a tune, one so beautiful, >fish jump in joy of this splendid song. Slowly, the >chickadee quietens. The song disappears and the fish >go about their ordinary business. > A turtle rises to the surface of the water and >calls up to the black-capped chickadee, "Which side of >the bridge do you live?" > The bird answers, "I don't know." > "What do you mean you don't know? Where do you >eat?" inquisitively asks the turtle. > "I have fed on both sides of this bridge," >answers the bird. > "Where is your nest?" asks the turtle. > "I don't know. I flew so high into the clouds >that I couldn't see the earth anymore, and when I >returned through the clouds all that I could see below >was this bridge. Thus, I landed here," the bird >ruffles feathers and flaps the wings in order to >stretch. > "Where will you go from here?" the turtle struck >by answers that lead nowhere, continues to ask again. > "I don't know. The view from this bridge is >excellent." > "I know how we can figure this out!" a brilliant >idea comes to the turtle. > "Figure what out?" asks the bird. > "Where to go from here silly. We can figured out >what side of the bridge you are standing upon, and >connect that side of the bridge with the land in which >it is closest to," with excitement the turtle swims >closer to the bridge and looks underneath the bird to >judge which side the bird stands closest to. > "Do what you must," says the bird, "I'm going to >sing another song." > "Ok," says the brown with red stripes and dots >including yellow as well in the same pattern - turtle. > The turtle peers up and can't find which side the >feet and claws stand most upon. So the turtle looks >for a feather that might be dangling further upon one >side of the bridge more than the other. > "seeeee, teetle, teetle, sweet, sweet," and on >goes the bird, singing away. > The fish jump again, lovely is this song, "I >wonder were it comes from," all the fish say in >unison. > The turtle shouts to the fish, "The bird on the >bridge is singing this beautiful song, and I'm helping >this bird figure out what side of the bridge the bird >is on." > The fish stop jumping and curiously ask the >turtle, "What bird?" > The turtle simply states, "That bird on the >bridge." > The music has disappeared and the turtle turns >back to the bridge. The bird is gone. It must of >flown away. > The fish look at each other and wonder amongst >themselves, "Hmmm, I wonder what side of this bridge >the turtle is from. HShe's quite odd," and the fish >go on debating until all is dark and nobody can see >each other anymore, unless up very close for no moon >is around tonight. > And the bridge says, "Hmmm, what side am I. What >of the air I arch into? What of the land I arch into? > What of this water that flows under me, and on me as >the rain? I seem to be in all places, not one more >than another. So, what can I be called? This land >has a name, that land has a name, this water has a >name, maybe I am simply bridge." > > > >woods, >SA > > > >____________________________________________________________________________________ >Never miss a thing. Make Yahoo your home page. >http://www.yahoo.com/r/hs >Moq_Discuss mailing list >Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. >http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org >Archives: >http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ >http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/ ********* The universe is uncaused, like a net of jewels in which each is only the reflection of all the others in a fantastic interrelated harmony without end. Moq_Discuss mailing list Listinfo, Unsubscribing etc. http://lists.moqtalk.org/listinfo.cgi/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org Archives: http://lists.moqtalk.org/pipermail/moq_discuss-moqtalk.org/ http://moq.org.uk/pipermail/moq_discuss_archive/
