Selamat Hari Raya everyone
yogasuji on Today is gone Tomorrow whytheheckdoesshewri… on Today is gone Tomorrow Ellen on Just as it is Tor Snyder on Malaysia Flight 370 – me…
Selamat Hari Raya everyone
“Whistling girls and crowing hens always come to some bad ends,” my grandma used to say, just before she would tell me that while I was a gracious loser (she was right; I am), I was a “very poor winner.” By that, my grandma meant that I loved winning too much and that, when I did win, I wasn’t good at pretending not to care. And, she was right; I do and I’m not; it’s made me a hell of a lawyer. My grandma loved me and she was just trying to prepare me for what she called “the real world.”
One of the almost unconscious (and completely unpaid) jobs that women are doing all the damn time is managing their own behavior in order to manage men’s emotions. We do it so much that we’re often not even aware that we’re doing it. While the Jungian projection is that…
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I didn’t want to let April pass by without a new poem. This is what it sounds like when doves cry.
Today I feel the
Heavy unwanted ache again
Be happy my heart.
Tomorrow I move
An inviting fresh clean space
With Ivy I have a home
My new Life awaits
Full of beauty and possibilities
Why then do I weep?
Fear creeps in
I long for the comfort
Of the familiar
Of what used to be
Be happy my heart.
Where Does Oprah Live on Maui? Aloha! No matter what I post on any topic, it seems the thing people really most want to know is: where the heck does Oprah live on Maui? So, I will tell you. I direc…
Source: Where Does Oprah Live on Maui?
by Sujatha Raman
inspired by the poem Nothing Twice by Wislawa Szymborska
I was one of the many that first heard of the Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska when she was awarded the Noble prize in 1996, 20 years ago. Something in one of the press articles caught my attention and I bought her book.
I read the poem, Nothing Twice, and felt my heart. Here were my innermost feelings on a page. Feelings and yearnings locked away in the deepest recesses of my heart, that I had not really understood myself and had never articulated. No rehearsal. You move through life and deal with whatever is flung at you by the seat of your pants. No second chances. Get it right the first time. Make the right choices at six or ten or twelve because you will live with those choices till eighty.
Perhaps that is why I clung to theatre for so many years. Here you are given rehearsal time and you are given scripts. Ahh scripts! What is better than to have a script? You read a script and read it again and again before you stand up and speak. And then you spend days repeating the words until you have it the way you want it. Safety, structure and security. And perhaps even more important, I knew who would be in the room and what they would say. It was a world where your today was not gone tomorrow.
Because in life, what was bliss yesterday is anger and pain tomorrow. So enjoy who is in your day today. Because tomorrow, his smiles and kisses do not melt your heart. He is not enough to build the life you want. He reads a different script, needs a different script.
Nothing can ever happen twice.
In consequence, the sorry fact is
that we arrive here improvised
and leave without the chance to practice.
Even if there is no one dumber,
if you’re the planet’s biggest dunce,
you can’t repeat the class in summer:
this course is only offered once.
No day copies yesterday,
no two nights will teach what bliss is
in precisely the same way,
with precisely the same kisses.
One day, perhaps some idle tongue
mentions your name by accident:
I feel as if a rose were flung
into the room, all hue and scent.
The next day, though you’re here with me,
I can’t help looking at the clock:
A rose? A rose? What could that be?
Is it a flower or a rock?
Why do we treat the fleeting day
with so much needless fear and sorrow?
It’s in its nature not to stay:
Today is always gone tomorrow.
With smiles and kisses, we prefer
to seek accord beneath our star,
although we’re different (we concur)
just as two drops of water are.
translated by Clare Cavanagh and Stanislaw Baranczak
Poems by Wislawa Szymborska
i wantto re red this review of this fascinating book. set in Hawaii. How cool
What makes a good detective novel memorable? Engaging detectives? A mystifying plot which manages to pull the carpet from under your feet at the end of the novel? A vivid and unusual setting? Well Sheridan’s The Mamo Murders (1952) has all three in her third Lily Wu and Janice Cameron novel. Like the second novel, The Kahuna Killer (1951), this novel is set in Hawaii; Honolulu and Maui to be specific. Both Lily, who is Chinese and Janice, who is a Caucasian American, are good at representing the diverse nationalities of Hawaii, which was becoming increasingly multi-cultural after WW2. Lily and Janice were both born in Hawaii, with the latter having learnt to speak Hawaiian from her father who was an expert and preserver of Hawaiian history and traditions. But they met in the first novel The Chinese Chop (1949) in New York. Janice is the series’ Watson and she…
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