The main element of this image in rapport with the subject is the singing bowl, but each of the objects present has a story, evokes sounds, sounds of friends and children laughing, loving, living.
Sound therapy is a beneficial complementary method of treatment. Personally I enjoy blending my voice with the bowl and also with others, in addition to playing the piano. Sometimes I even sing along with the vacuum cleaner.
Pronouncing the Creator’s Word in order to accomplish it, prayer as defined in The Revelation of Arès, uses the element of sound to harness our whole being, not just reading with our mind and eyes, but using the mouth and ears, the physical vibrations, to reach our heart, like a spiritual alarm clock, not one of those irritating buzzers, but a nice harmonious one, helping us create our self as it was meant to be.
For more entries on the theme of sound, go to Picture Perfect.
(Bonus sound: rain and hail.)
Here is a view of “my world” (the north side of our house and roadside bed) where I also find expressed my world view. With effort we can cultivate beauty and encourage life, be creative. Opportunities to forgive abound, my neighbour’s maple tree seeds itself freely—I hate to pull out trees but don’t want a forest here. I hope he has forgiven me for the shrubs that creep over the fence. Crabgrass gets in there but I remain constant in pulling it out. There is hope as seen by the forsythia about to bloom and the buds on the rose bushes (those brown sticks). This is my garden, yet the work I do there has an influence on others, those that pass by, the neighbours who see it from their windows. The same is true of the world in general—the efforts we make to be and do good flow out, contributing our part to reality. Cultivating the inner and the outer garden of Earth—my world – and yours.
For more entries on the theme of Welcome to My World, go to Picture Perfect.
Please give any other answer in a comment or comment on these.
This week I once more found myself relegated to the isolation cell of « nobody ». It’s not the first time and I really find it difficult to believe I am alone there.
Several years ago when we were shopping for a kitchen sink, I knew I wanted a double sink with double drain boards. “Nobody wants those,” the saleslady informed me. At another store, we were able to order one, but we were told we would have to wait 3 weeks for delivery. The salesman seemed to be saying nobody wants to wait that long, but that is short when one thinks about how often the sink is used daily and for so many years, it’s worth waiting 3 weeks to get what one wants.
A frozen foods company used to stop by regularly and from time to time I would get some of their “American” ice cream. Then one day, they no longer carried it—nobody wants it, the salesman said. Nowadays, I don’t seem to need so much ice cream and there are a few pizza places that carry Ben and Jerry’s, so if I really want some, I can get it without shelling out for a trans-Atlantic flight.
This week I found my jaw dropping when I read that nobody believes Abraham existed as a real person. It never even occurred to me to ask such a question. I found myself thinking everybody I know “believes” in Abraham. I may have to do a poll just to be sure. Abraham is one of my great-great-…great grandfathers. Genetically a piece of me would be missing without him. Spiritually he plays an even greater role. He was a prophet, one to whom God spoke and who then gave the Message to those around him. There is an incident recounted in the Qur’an where Abraham breaks all the idols except one, then the people are wondering who did that. Abraham says maybe that big one there. That cracks me up.
Today we have a living prophet and many may be missing out on something of historical importance since almost nobody believes such a thing could happen. Before I read The Revelation of Arès, it never occurred to me that it could, so I guess on some level I do consider the prophets to be somewhat mythological, but all that is changing for me.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that when that somebody said nobody, he really was only speaking for himself.
Here is the work I finished yesterday in my watercolour class:
This is pen and ink and watercolour on a half sheet. François Hippolyte Lalaisse was commissioned by a publisher in Nantes, mid 1800’s, to depict the traditional costumes. We each chose a few and arranged them as we wished on the page.
A message of incitement to live in joy was coming to me from several angles so I painted this watercolour to have a reminder everyday on the wall.
The joy of life (the universe), living, colours, light, sight, love, expressing our creativity, being penitent (striving to change so as to be good), all with joy.
“The penitent is not the sinner who sits in dirt and wraps himself up in a sack,
but the man who stops sinning, even though he wears festive clothes and scent and (even though he) sings to the music of flutes and trumpets; besides, do joy and finery not suit to him who has changed his life?”
For the story explaining the origin of the expression “des colores” and for more entries on this theme, go to Picture Perfect.
I used the tripod and zoomed to get this framed and composed the way I wanted, no flash, and waited until the sun came out (briefly…).
I try to keep my house clean enough so people are comfortable. I try to leave it dirty enough so people are comfortable. I hope everyone’s comfort zone is fairly wide.
With family spread over great distance, I don’t travel much just for pleasure. Most trips are for visiting family. Maybe people who travel the world live near their families? I live in what to half the family would be a foreign country, in the French countryside. Many would find that “so romantic”. I have lived in the same house for over 20 years now whereas when I was younger we moved about every 3 years. Nevertheless, maybe I should consider my everyday life to be a trip.
I heard some “music” on the radio the other day; it sounded like he was drumming on the piano. I wasn’t allowed to do that when I was little.
I couldn’t figure out why the colours of my clothes are fading when I so carefully wash and dry them inside out. Then I realized I wear them right-side out.
Muttering to myself about a phrase I saw in a comment—“I foregoed it.” That doesn’t seem right but would you say “I forewent it”? That doesn’t seem right either. One does say it was a foregone conclusion, but I foregone it? No, I think not. Perhaps the problem is with the fore part. The opposite would be aft. I aftgoed it? No, no, no………. This is getting daft. Maybe it’s one of those verbs with bits missing and one should just stick to the infinitive. I have decided to forego it.
Pursuing my interest in learning Arabic, I have been watching lessons on Youtube, posted by a very nice couple named Maha and Luca. Maha is the teacher who speaks Arabic and Hebrew as her maternal languages and has learned several others. Luca is her husband and has been playing the role of student. Recently they did two videos on making Arabic bread which inspired me to imitate it with my own dough. It turned out good!
I don’t have the nifty oven they show so I had to improvise and my first idea didn’t get off the ground so I further improvised, but the proof is that they were all eaten in short time. I wanted to use the bottom heat (that worked) and then the top heat with the grill function of the oven, but it wouldn’t light, so I just finished them in the regular oven. This called “mannaquiche”; that is my own phonetic spelling.
Here are links to the videos which inspired this experiment: