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Dane Allred examines the "Abundance" of the universe in his list of "1001 Thanks"
Episodes
Saturday Dec 10, 2011
Saturday Dec 10, 2011
This is the complete episode of Abundance from December 4th.
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SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
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Friday Dec 09, 2011
Friday Dec 09, 2011
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Sonnet LXXV
by William Shakespeare
So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found;
Now proud as an enjoyer and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure,
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure;
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.
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Sonnet 75
Friday Dec 09, 2011
Friday Dec 09, 2011
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Sonnet LXXVIV
by William Shakespeare
But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest this, thou dost review
The very part was consecrate to thee:
The earth can have but earth, which is his due;
My spirit is thine, the better part of me:
So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,
The prey of worms, my body being dead,
The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,
Too base of thee to be remembered.
The worth of that is that which it contains,
And that is this, and this with thee remains.
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Sonnet 74
Friday Dec 09, 2011
Friday Dec 09, 2011
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Sonnet LXXIII
by William Shakespeare
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
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Sonnet 73
Friday Dec 09, 2011
Friday Dec 09, 2011
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Sonnet LXXII
by William Shakespeare
O, lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me, that you should love
After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceased I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart:
O, lest your true love may seem false in this,
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,
And so should you, to love things nothing worth.
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Sonnet 72
Thursday Dec 08, 2011
Thursday Dec 08, 2011
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Sonnet LXXI
by William Shakespeare
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
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Sonnet 71
Wednesday Dec 07, 2011
Wednesday Dec 07, 2011
Us Just Is
by Dane Allred
Is justice
A miscellany of difference
Our assortment of diversity
The variegated variety
A medley of similarity?
The jumbled multi-mixture
This hodge-podge or concoction
The fusion of division
The blending combination
-- is just us.
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Wednesday Dec 07, 2011
Wednesday Dec 07, 2011
Bright Space
Diversity
by Dane Allred
When the universe wanted to find out all there was to know
It created you and me.
In the Bright Space we all enjoyed each other’s company,
Celebrating the unlimited number of ways
This universe wanted to discover
All there was to know.
Even when you and I
Experience the same thing,
We experience it in completely different ways.
We can try to explain to someone else
What we have seen and felt
And another person would explain
The same experience
In a completely different way.
But the opposite is also true.
When we are gathered together
United for a purpose
With hundreds or thousands
Of different people
All desiring the same goal,
The same unity,
We are feeling a part of that oneness
We once felt in the Bright Space.
Though we are diverse individuals
With different backgrounds,
Preferences, desires and goals,
At that one moment,
During that one time we are gathered
Together
We feel as one
We shout as one
We act as one.
What a great mystery to be contemplated.
We are apart
And yet we can be one.
It’s that same feeling we get
When we meet someone new,
But they really aren’t new to us
Because we were together before
In the Bright Space.
There is that spark of recognition
That feeling of familiarity
That feeling of oneness
Even though we are quite different
From one another.
While we spin in our own spheres
On this world
Spinning through space
At unbelievable speeds,
We take the time to know others
To help others
To seek that purpose for which
We were sent here.
To experience what this life will offer us,
And experience all the others we will ever meet
As we travel on our voyage.
Someday, when we have experienced
All this life has to offer,
We will return to the Bright Space
The place that is no place
Where there is no here and then
But only now
And we celebrate our oneness and diversity.
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The Complete Collection of
SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
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Wednesday Dec 07, 2011
Wednesday Dec 07, 2011
MORE HIKING STUPIDITY
My journey up the mountain behind our home wasn’t just about bees and wasps.
Another surprise of the hike was on one of the crags that line the ridgeline. It was one of the topmost and had a large flat area where you could stand and look out over the entire Utah Valley, and even see some of Juab County. Just next to the edge of the outcropping I noticed a small brown circle which looked out of place in the natural setting.
After I looked closer, I could see that it was a penny. I picked it up and looked closely at the date. It was from the 1940's, and for all I knew, had been left there by some past hiker fifty years before me. I thought a second about leaving it there for some future hiker, but it was too irresistible to pass by. I only wished I had a new penny in my pocket to replace it.
To tell you how unprepared I was, I had taken a baggie full of ice and drank the water as it melted, and soon was out of water. Fortunately this was June, and as I climbed higher I found patches of snow where I could renew my water supply.
The really idiotic thing about this whole adventure is that no one knew where I was going. I hadn't left a note saying where I was, so if I got hurt there would be no rescue party. I had on the wrong shoes, and I hadn't brought enough water. But still I climbed on, because “it was there”.
I have always wondered about that phrase and mountains. We climb it because it is there. But I can tell you that it really is true. I kept climbing because there was more mountain in front of me.
Farther up the mountain I finally came to the first of the ridge tops of the mountains. From here it would be easy walking across the ridges from mountain to mountain, and at the top of each mountain there seemed to be another mountain which was just a little higher. If you are going to climb that far, you might as well reach the mountaintop. I knew I had to start down pretty soon to beat darkness before I got to the bottom. So I went to the second tallest mountain which was next to Buckley, I think. It probably would have taken another thirty minutes to go to that other peak, but I decided not to press my luck and started down.
The hike down was not the same path I followed up, since I had climbed a few small cliffs which were not higher than ten feet. I had fallen ten feet enough to not worry about falling that far, but I didn't want to be falling down then on purpose.
So, on at least two of the parts of the downhill journey I found myself faced with two decisions. Slide down the rock slide or walk through the thick underbrush.
My shoes had almost completely fallen apart by this time. The soles were flapping from the uppers, and they threatened to come completely apart at any minute. When I got home later that day I simply threw them away. They were totally thrashed.
Sliding down a rock slide on purpose is very fun, but I strongly caution anyone who hasn't survived at least twenty-five mishaps like I have, not to try this at home. The loose rocks had made a five- foot slope of small pebbles and stones. They were loose enough that as you stepped onto them, they would slide under your feet and you would actually be surfing the rocks. I had to be careful I didn't get going too fast, and from my skiing experience, I knew when and how to slow up and then when to stop. My ankles did get banged up by a couple of larger rocks, but I have never experienced anything like that since.
I made it back and immediately collapsed into bed. I had been hiking for seven hours, and had gone from about forty-five hundred feet elevation where my house is to about eleven thousand feet at the top of the mountain and then back down again. I don't know how many miles I hiked that day, but I had hiked over two miles straight up and down. I once tried to figure it out on a topographical map, and it seemed like it was about eleven miles total.
I slept for about fifteen hours straight and woke up about noon the next day. The family was away, so there was no one around to complain about how foolish I had been or how late I was sleeping.
Stupid? Yes. A great adventure? Absolutely.
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Tuesday Dec 06, 2011
Tuesday Dec 06, 2011
Click here for a complete INDEX
Stave Two
The First of the
Three Spirits
When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that, looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber, until suddenly the church clock tolled a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy ONE.
Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the curtains of his bed were drawn aside by a strange figure -- like a child: yet not so like a child as like an old man, viewed through some supernatural medium, which gave him the appearance of having receded from the view, and being diminished to a child's proportions. Its hair, which hung about its neck and down its back, was white as if with age; and yet the face had not a wrinkle in it, and the tenderest bloom was on the skin. It held a branch of fresh green holly in its hand; and, in singular contradiction of that wintry emblem, had its dress trimmed with summer flowers. But the strangest thing about it was, that from the crown of its head there sprung a bright clear jet of light, by which all this was visible; and which was doubtless the occasion of its using, in its duller moments, a great extinguisher for a cap, which it now held under its arm.
"Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?"
"I am!"
"Who and what are you?"
"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"Long past?"
"No. Your past. The things that you will see with me are shadows of the things that have been; they will have no consciousness of us."
Scrooge then made bold to inquire what business brought him there.
"Your welfare. Rise, and walk with me!"
It would have been in vain for Scrooge to plead that the weather and the hour were not adapted to pedestrian purposes; that bed was warm, and the thermometer a long way below freezing; that he was clad but lightly in his slippers, dressing-gown, and nightcap; and that he had a cold upon him at that time. The grasp, though gentle as a woman's hand, was not to be resisted. He rose; but finding that the Spirit made towards the window, clasped its robe in supplication.
"I am a mortal, and liable to fall."
"Bear but a touch of my hand there," said the Spirit, laying it upon his heart, "and you shall be upheld in more than this!"
As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood in the busy thoroughfares of a city. It was made plain enough by the dressing of the shops that here, too, it was Christmas time.
The Ghost stopped at a certain warehouse door, and asked Scrooge if he knew it.
"Know it! Was I apprenticed here?"
They went in. At sight of an old gentleman in a Welsh wig, sitting behind such a high desk that, if he had been two inches taller, he must have knocked his head against the ceiling, Scrooge cried in great excitement: "Why, it's old Fezziwig! Bless his heart, it's Fezziwig, alive again!"
Old Fezziwig laid down his pen, and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his capacious waistcoat; laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich, fat, jovial voice: "Yo ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"
A living and moving picture of Scrooge's former self, a young man, came briskly in, accompanied by his fellow-prentice.
"Dick Wilkins, to be sure!" said Scrooge to the Ghost. "My old fellow-prentice, bless me, yes. There he is. He was very much attached to me, was Dick. Poor Dick! Dear, dear!"
"Yo ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work tonight. Christmas Eve, Dick. Christmas, Ebenezer! Let's have the shutters up, before a man can say Jack Robinson! Clear away, my lads, and let's have lots of room here!"
Clear away! There was nothing they wouldn't have cleared away, or couldn't have cleared away, with old Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public life forevermore; the floor was swept and watered, the lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and the warehouse was as snug and warm and dry and bright a ball-room as you would desire to see upon a winter's night.
In came a fiddler with a music-book, and went up to the lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it, and tuned like fifty stomach-aches. In came Mrs. Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all the young men and women employed in the business. In came the housemaid, with her cousin the baker. In came the cook, with her brother's particular friend the milkman. In they all came one after another; some shyly, some boldly, some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some pulling; in they all came, anyhow and everyhow. Away they all went, twenty couple at once; hands half round and back again the other way; down the middle and up again; round and round in various stages of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again, as soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a bottom one to help them. When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig, clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well done!" and the fiddler plunged his hot face into a pot of porter especially provided for that purpose.
There were more dances, and there were forfeits, and more dances, and there was cake, and there was negus, and there was a great piece of Cold Roast, and there was a great piece of Cold Boiled, and there were mince-pies, and plenty of beer. But the great effect of the evening came after the Roast and Boiled, when the fiddler struck up "Sir Roger de Coverley." Then old Fezziwig stood out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too; with a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to be trifled with; people who would dance, and had no notion of walking.
But if they had been twice as many -- four times -- old Fezziwig would have been a match for them and so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to her, she was worthy to be his partner in every sense of the term. A positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig's calves. They shone in every part of the dance.
You couldn't have predicted, at any given time, what would become of 'em next. And when old Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the dance -- advance and retire, turn your partner, bow and courtesy, corkscrew, thread the needle, and back again to your place -- Fezziwig "cut" -- cut so deftly, that he appeared to wink with his legs.
When the clock struck eleven this domestic ball broke up. Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations, one on either side of the door, and, shaking hands with every person individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the two 'prentices, they did the same to them; and thus the cheerful voices died away, and the lads were left to their beds which were under a counter in the back shop.
"A small matter," said the Ghost, "to make these silly folks so full of gratitude. He has spent but a few pounds of your mortal money -- three or four perhaps. Is that so much that he deserves this praise?"
"It isn't that," said Scrooge, heated by the remark, and speaking unconsciously like his former, not his latter self -- "it isn't that, Spirit. He has the power to render us happy or unhappy; to make our service light or burdensome; a pleasure or a toil. Say that his power lies in words and looks; in things so slight and insignificant that it is impossible to add and count 'em up: what then? The happiness he gives is quite as great as if it cost a fortune."
He felt the Spirit's glance, and stopped.
"What is the matter?"
"Nothing particular."
"Something, I think?"
"No, no. I should like to be able to say a word or two to my clerk just now. That's all."
"My time grows short," observed the Spirit. "Quick!"
This was not addressed to Scrooge, or to any one whom he could see, but it produced an immediate effect. For again he saw himself. He was older now; a man in the prime of life.
He was not alone, but sat by the side of a fair young girl in a black dress, in whose eyes there were tears.
"It matters little," she said softly to Scrooge's former self. "To you, very little. Another idol has displaced me; and if it can comfort you in time to come, as I would have tried to do, I have no just cause to grieve."
"What Idol has displaced you?"
"A golden one. You fear the world too much. I have seen your nobler aspirations fall off one by one, until the master-passion, Gain, engrosses you. Have I not?"
"What then? Even if I have grown so much wiser, what then? I am not changed towards you. Have I ever sought release from our engagement?"
"In words, no. Never."
"In what, then?"
In a changed nature; in an altered spirit; in another atmosphere of life; another Hope as its great end. If you were free to-day, tomorrow, yesterday, can even I believe that you would choose a dowerless girl; or, choosing her, do I not know that your repentance and regret would surely follow? I do; and I release you. With a full heart, for the love of him you once were."
"Spirit! Remove me from this place."
"I told you these were shadows of the things that have been," said the Ghost. "That they are what they are, do not blame me!"
"Remove me!" Scrooge exclaimed. "I cannot bear it! Leave me! Take me back. Haunt me no longer!"
As he struggled with the Spirit he was conscious of being exhausted, and overcome by an irresistible drowsiness; and, further, of being in his own bed-room. He had barely time to reel to bed before he sank into a heavy sleep.
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SHAKESPEARE'S SONNETS
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