My family brings JOY!

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photo by Quenby of Jeanne

May 11, 2024

sometimes I am the Queen of Cups…

So, what does Jesus do in Heaven? He continually shows our humanity to His Father and what He suffered. His Father is moved by the price of redemption…

TUESDAY, MAY 21, 2024
“So, what does Jesus do in heaven? He is there for us before the Father, continually showing our humanity to him — showing him his wounds. I like to think that Jesus, prays like this in front of the Father — showing him his wounds. “This is what I suffered for humanity: Do something!” He shows him the price of redemption and the Father is moved.” Pope Francis

When the Spirit comes in breathe and prahna…

CalligPrahna.GoKo

We breathe in Him

and Christ

and the Creator Father!

We are the body of Christ!

My favorite poet, Khalil Gibran on Fear…

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It is said that before entering the sea
a river trembles with fear.
She looks back at the path she has traveled,
from the peaks of the mountains,
the long winding road crossing forests and villages.
And in front of her,
she sees an ocean so vast,
that to enter
there seems nothing more than to disappear forever.
But there is no other way.
The river can not go back.
Nobody can go back.
To go back is impossible in existence.
The river needs to take the risk
of entering the ocean
because only then will fear disappear,
because that’s where the river will know
it’s not about disappearing into the ocean,
but of becoming the ocean.
~ Khalil Gibran

KhalilGibran #EnglishLiterature

philosophy #philosophyquotes

Literature #Wisdom #quotestoliveby

5/11/24

All of me loves olive oil and this is why:

GarrisonKeillor

I wanted to share this with you because I also love olive oil. It makes me thrive. I hope you like Garrison’s description and it makes you laugh.

I am now putting olive oil on my pancakes, in my coffee, sipping it from a wine glass, after reading that it is beneficial in holding dementia at bay. Don’t ask for proof, I believe what I want to believe, like most other people my age. I don’t want to spend my last years babbling in a seniors’ warehouse; I plan to do stand-up comedy until I’m 97 and then be shot cleanly by a jealous husband whose wife told him she wished he were more like me. A Republican husband — these guys can shoot straight — will aim his .44 and send me instantly, no mouth-to-mouth, to whatever paradise God keeps for us Episcopalian liberals. Probably a dorm where we’ll sit around and read the same copy of the New York Times over and over. No bliss, just boredom.

Do I sound demented to you, dear reader? Tell me if I do.

Meanwhile I’m alone in a New York apartment; my sweetie’s back in Minnesota, hanging out with artsy people, engaged in witty conversation over glasses of exquisite sauvignon blanc, discussing the merits of Messiaen vs. Saint-Saëns, while her pathetic pal sits worrying about going gaga while sipping olive oil.Is this how I imagined my life would be back when I was your age, kiddos?No, I thought I would grow up and be distinguished — I got an honorary doctorate long long ago, and okay, it was from a little Lutheran school in Minnesota, but still. I looked good in the gown and a professor with a genuine doctorate read the citation, which made me sound like a combination of Jonas Salk, Will Rogers, and St. Julia the Uncomplaining. I never won a literary award but Stephen Sondheim once walked up and told me he enjoyed my limericks. Modest man that I am, I didn’t even snap a selfie of us. I was interviewed once on the BBC and I don’t mean the Boston Boys Club, I mean the one in London with the ladies and gentlemen with the excellent accents, accents unavailable to the son of a postal clerk in Anoka, Minnesota.

I was forced into hard labor when I was ten years old, sent to the cruel Fred Peterson, a farmer just west of us, where I slaved in his cornfields, hoeing endless rows in the blazing sun, and then picking the corn, and then picking his potatoes, a heavy burlap bag over my skinny shoulders. My back is still stooped from the weight, and when I go over to someone’s house for dinner, I notify them that if corn or potatoes are served, I am likely to be violently ill. As a result, guess what: I’m never invited. I long for a cheeseburger but I pull up under the Golden Arches and smell the french fries and I am blinded by tears and have to lie down with a cold compress on my forehead.

It happened back in the Fifties, long before young people were allowed to choose their gender, and I was forced to be a man even though I didn’t understand football, didn’t care for dirty jokes, had no interest in cars or guns or poker, had no taste for beer, and I have been stuck in this gender ever since. Men avoid me, and I try to be friends with women and they mistake it for flirtation and turn away in disgust. It’s a sad story and do I complain? No, I feel gratitude. I was forced to be grateful when I was a kid. I was fed wretched food and Mother said, “Children in China would be grateful to have that macaroni and cheese.” And look at what happened to those Chinese children. They’re grown up and prosperous and have advanced electronics and it’s not a democracy so they don’t have to deal with politicians.

No, it’s been a hard life and I didn’t mention the time I was kidnapped by coyotes. But I’m grateful. I tell myself, “It could be worse. I could get old and lose my mind.” The other day, I forgot the word “cognitive” for hours, I thought, “Alert? Informed? Awake? Attentive? Cerebral? Incognito?” The very word for the skills I’m scared of losing. And then I made a salad with olive oil and vinegar dressing and the word came back. It wasn’t the vinegar. It was the olive oil. I read that somewhere. Maybe a newspaper, maybe online.

Jesus took his Body to Heaven so the Holy Spirit could come to earth and love us with grace…all humans are called to Joy!

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Annika at 3 years of age performs for Dad…

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“Jesus himself is the way to follow to live in truth and to have life in abundance. He is the way and therefore faith in him is not a “package of ideas” in which to believe, but rather a road to be travelled, a journey to undertake, a path with him. It is following Jesus, because he is the way that leads to unfailing happiness.”

Annika’s last track meet in 2024

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One who goes to the Eucharist with compassion is at ease with Jesus…

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FRIDAY, MAY 3, 2024
“In the Eucharist Jesus does not give just any bread, but the bread of eternal life, he gives Himself, offering Himself to the Father out of love for us. But we must go to the Eucharist with those sentiments of Jesus, which are compassion and the will to share. One who goes to the Eucharist without having compassion for the needy and without sharing, is not at ease with Jesus.
Pope Francis

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