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Sonnet Seven by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet VII

by William Shakespeare

Lo! In the orient when the gracious light

Lifts up his burning head, each under eye

Doth homage to his new-appearing sight,

Serving with looks his sacred majesty;

And having climb'd the steep-up heavenly hill,

Resembling strong youth in his middle age,

Yet mortal looks adore his beauty still,

Attending on his golden pilgrimage;

But when from highmost pitch, with weary car,

Like feeble age, he reeleth from the day,

The eyes, 'fore duteous, now converted are

From his low tract and look another way:

So thou, thyself out-going in thy noon,

Unlook'd on diest, unless thou get a son.

 

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Sonnet 7

Sonnet Six by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet VI

by William Shakespeare

Then let not winter's ragged hand deface

In thee thy summer, ere thou be distill'd:

Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place

With beauty's treasure, ere it be self-kill'd.

That use is not forbidden usury,

Which happies those that pay the willing loan;

That's for thyself to breed another thee,

Or ten times happier, be it ten for one;

Ten times thyself were happier than thou art,

If ten of thine ten times refigured thee:

Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,

Leaving thee living in posterity?

Be not self-will'd, for thou art much too fair

To be death's conquest and make worms thine heir.

 

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Sonnet 6

Obstacles by Dane Allred

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Bright Space

Obstacles

by Dane Allred

Why are there so many obstacles?

If life was easy, would we value all the experiences we have had in life?

We can only grow and achieve if we are challenged.

But there is a reason we are here.

There is something we are to do today,

This week,

This month,

This year.

This lifetime.

You may think you don’t know what it is,

But it floats in your mind and pesters you until you do what you know you need to do.

It’s not always what we want to do.

We are given a lifetime of opportunities to live purposefully.

When we choose one thing or another,

We are navigating our purpose here by our choices.

Some of us have many more opportunities than others,

But that shouldn’t stop us from making the difference we can make.

When we keep the positive uppermost in our thoughts and actions,

We will see results.

They may not be the results we want,

But we also learn every time we fail.

In this world of abundance,

We’ll know better how to accomplish what are striving for the next time we are given an opportunity.

We can have a purpose and also live on purpose.

When we live life on purpose, knowing what we want to achieve,

We have more than a goal.

We have massed the forces of the universe behind our intention

And we will reach it.

Or we won’t.

But then there will be another choice for us to make.

And when we listen to the cacophony of negativity

It is easy to get discouraged.

Are we looking to help those who need our help,

Or do we selfishly think only of ourselves?

Do we let the weight of trouble in the world

Stop us from accomplishing what we can

While we can?

Obstacles are put in our way to help us learn to navigate life.

We were all together once in the Bright Space,

And together, there is nothing we cannot achieve.

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Needlephobia

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Dane Allred's World of Hurt

Needlephobia

I am a baby when it comes to needles. I try to convince people I have an actual phobia by explaining how much longer it took for me to give blood than my bride to be. But my sister is the needle master. She has had a liver transplant, but the strangest thing she had to endure was a weekly gamma globulin shot when she was young. Her white blood cells were low, and she had to get this peanut butter thick shot every week.

This is where my fear of needles begins. When she would get the shot, I was usually in the waiting room listening to her scream. I was in the waiting room because I only got to see the needle once, and I must have looked like I was going to pass out, because I never saw her get another shot. But seeing that one shot was enough.

Imagine a turkey baster miniaturized. That's what the hypodermic and the needle looked like to an impressionable young boy. Then, after you’ve filled it with peanut butter, try to imagine getting that thick glop through the needle and into the skin of the victim, I mean, patient. It resides just under the skin as a huge bump of medicine waiting to be absorbed by the body. I have never had one and hope I never will. Anyone I have talked to about gamma globulin shots tells me it is one of the most painful shots you can get.

To make matters worse, now that I have this mental image of the torture device firmly etched into my feeble brain, I get to sit out in the waiting room and imagine what is going on in the next room. And I have a good imagination.

Each week, as she endured the torture of the shot, the needle got bigger and bigger in my mind. The concoction got thicker and thicker, until you have the quivering mass of flesh I am today with a genuine phobia of needles. The doctor knows better than to let me see the needle, and so does the dentist. They discreetly hide it, hoping the big baby sitting in their office won't faint dead away.

Another needle incident happened when I was probably nine or ten, and an incredibly painful sore appeared on my side next to my right hip. Technically it was high on my hip, but it would be correct to state that I had boil on my butt. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone for several days. I just thought I had stabbed myself with wire or something.

A boil is an accumulation of infection, pus and other impurities your body is trying to expel. This time it just happened to be my butt that my body chose as the site of the expulsion, but it could have been worse.

But (!) I finally had to tell my mom, and actually show her part of my butt. I was humiliated, and I think she could tell, since she sent Dad to the rescue.

What happens with all of these impurities your body wants out is that they accrete just below the skin in a painful mass that resembles a giant pimple. Some of the mass was hard and felt solid, but mostly the stuff crowded into this small space and pressed for escape. The pressure built and the pain increased as we all wondered what to do.

Dad tried squeezing it like a pimple, but that just made things worse - it hurt even more and didn't want to pop.

So of course, the only thing to do was to lance it. This will be my Dad's answer to a painful toenail later also. I have already detailed my fear of needles, but to watch my own father put a sewing needle into a hot flame just before he intends to stab it into me sent my heart racing so fast I'm surprised I didn't have a heart attack.

Now that the needle was sterilized by the flame, and also red hot, Dad decided it was time to take care of business. He lanced the boil without further ado, and squeezed all of the contents out with a large amount of blood. This is what I call true love. Until you have had a boil lanced by a parent you may question their sacrifice for you. After lancing a boil, there is no other demonstration necessary.

It immediately began to feel better, and I still have a small scar from the operation, it was one of Dr. Allred's many successes. He later branched out into giving shots to calves and horses, and I was happy to be spared the pain.

I know it’s silly, but just don’t let me see the needle.

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Love's Gentle Rain by Dane Allred

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Love’s Gentle Rain

by Dane Allred

The gentle rain of our love

Is no torrent to wash the earth bare

But it dots our lives with needed moisture

To see us through the glaring sun of life.

So light the gentle rain falls

We scarce can notice it.

Rather than annoy, it reminds us

With its soft caress of our true love.

When rain does fall into our life,

Let it always be

The gentle rain of love.

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Abundance Nature July 24

This is the complete episode of Abundance called Nature from July 24.

Sonnet Five by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet V

by William Shakespeare

Those hours, that with gentle work did frame

The lovely gaze where every eye doth dwell,

Will play the tyrants to the very same

And that unfair which fairly doth excel:

For never-resting time leads summer on

To hideous winter and confounds him there;

Sap cheque'd with frost and lusty leaves quite gone,

Beauty o'ersnow'd and bareness every where:

Then, were not summer's distillation left,

A liquid prisoner pent in walls of glass,

Beauty's effect with beauty were bereft,

Nor it nor no remembrance what it was:

But flowers distill'd though they with winter meet,

Leese but their show; their substance still lives sweet.

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Sonnet 5

Sonnet Four by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet IV

by William Shakespeare

 

Unthrifty loveliness, why dost thou spend

Upon thyself thy beauty's legacy?

Nature's bequest gives nothing but doth lend,

And being frank she lends to those are free.

Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse

The bounteous largess given thee to give?

Profitless usurer, why dost thou use

So great a sum of sums, yet canst not live?

For having traffic with thyself alone,

Thou of thyself thy sweet self dost deceive.

Then how, when nature calls thee to be gone,

What acceptable audit canst thou leave?

Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee,

Which, used, lives th' executor to be.

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Sonnet 4

Sonnet Three by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet III

by William Shakespeare

 

Look in thy glass, and tell the face thou viewest

Now is the time that face should form another;

Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,

Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.

For where is she so fair whose unear'd womb

Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?

Or who is he so fond will be the tomb

Of his self-love, to stop posterity?

Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee

Calls back the lovely April of her prime:

So thou through windows of thine age shall see

Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time.

But if thou live, remember'd not to be,

Die single, and thine image dies with thee.

 

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Sonnet 3

Sonnet Two by William Shakespeare

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Sonnet II

by William Shakespeare

 

When forty winters shall besiege thy brow,

And dig deep trenches in thy beauty's field,

Thy youth's proud livery, so gazed on now,

Will be a tatter'd weed, of small worth held:

Then being ask'd where all thy beauty lies,

Where all the treasure of thy lusty days,

To say, within thine own deep-sunken eyes,

Were an all-eating shame and thriftless praise.

How much more praise deserved thy beauty's use,

If thou couldst answer 'This fair child of mine

Shall sum my count and make my old excuse,'

Proving his beauty by succession thine!

This were to be new made when thou art old,

And see thy blood warm when thou feel'st it cold.

 

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