Amy & Travis dance to James Vincent McMorrow’s rendition of “Wicked Games” in “So You Think You Can Dance.”
Credits: Thank you Susan for sharing her favorite dance of the season.
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Smile to the world – The movie from e-keep on Vimeo.
…55 filmmakers from 31 different countries on 5 continents all shooting a smiling woman and man in each country…The official website : thesmilebook.org
Related Posts: 30 Gifts to 30 Strangers…
One word. Beautiful.
If I could stay just for a minute more
Then I could say all the things I’ve been saving up for
Never enough time in the day & moments like this
come a moment too late
And, there’s so many things that I don’t understand
And I’m standing in line with my open hand
Waiting for some explanation
Something to hold onto
And the minutes of the day turn to hours of the week
And time’s slippin’ away & we don’t hardly speak
And I’m feeling so lost deep in my soul…
Source: Lyrics. Video. Music: Terra Naomi – If I Could Stay.
“Sift the debris of a young writer’s education, and you find dreadful things — strictures, prohibitions, dos, don’ts, an unnatural and nearly neurotic obsession with style, argument and transition. Yet in that debris you find no traces of a fundamental question: where do sentences come from? This is a philosophical question, as valuable in the asking as in the answering. But it’s a practical question, too. Think about it long enough, and you begin to realize that many, if not most, of the things we believe about writing are false…”
The Gentlest and Greatest Friend of Moon and Winds. Basho, 1644 – 1694
Many years ago there went wandering through Japan, sometimes on the back of a horse, sometimes afoot, in poor pilgrim’s clothes, the kindest, most simple hearted of men…Basho, friend of moon and winds. Though Basho was born of one of the noblest classes in Japan, and might have been welcome in palaces, he chose to wander, and to be comrade and teacher of men and women, boys and girls in all different stations of life, from the lowest to the highest. Basho bathed in the running brooks, rested in shady valleys, sought shelter from sudden rains under some tree on the moor, and sighed with the country folk as he watched the cherry blossoms in their last pink shower, fluttering down from the trees. Now he slept at some country inn, 
stumbling in at its door at nightfall, wearied from long hours of travelling, yet never too tired to note the lovely wisteria vine, drooping its delicate lavender blossoms over the veranda. Sometimes he slept in the poor hut of a peasant, but most often his bed was out-of-doors, and his pillow a stone.
When Basho came upon a little violet hiding shyly in the grass on a mountain pathway, it whispered its secret to him. “Modesty, gentleness, and simplicity!” it said. “These are the truly beautiful things.”
Glistening drops of dew on the petal of a flower had voice and a song for him likewise. “Purity,” they sang, “is the loveliest thing in life.
The pine tree, fresh and ever green amid winter’s harshest storms, spoke staunchly of hardy manhood; the mountains had their message of patience, the moon its song of glory! Rivers, forests, waterfalls, all told their secrets to Basho, and these secrets that Nature revealed to him, he loved to show to others, for the whole of living of life was to him one great poem, as of some holy service in the shadow of a temple.
“Real poetry,” said Basho, “is to lead a beautiful life. To live poetry is better than to write it.” And whenever he saw one of his young students being rude, in a fit of anger, or otherwise acting unworthily, he would gently lay his hand on the arm of the youth and say; “But this is not poetry! This is not poetry.”
~ Olive Beaupré Miller, A children’s book titled Little Pictures of Japan originally published in 1925
Source: artemisdreaming via madamescherzo
There is a season for everything, and we do not notice a given phenomenon except at that season, if, indeed, it can be called the same phenomenon at any other season. There is a time to watch the ripples on Ripple Lake, to look for arrowheads, to study the rocks and lichens, a time to walk on sandy deserts; and the observer of nature must improve these seasons as much as the farmer his. So boys fly kites and play ball or hawkie at particular times all over the State. A wise man will know what game to play to-day, and play it. We must not be governed by rigid rules, as by the almanac, but let the season rule us. The moods and thoughts of man are revolving just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s. Nothing must be postponed. Take time by the forelock. Now or never! You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land; there is no other life but this, or the like of this. Where the good husbandman is, there is the good soil. Take any other course, and life will be a succession of regrets. Let us see vessels sailing prosperously before the wind, and not simply stranded barks. There is no world for the penitent and regretful.
~ Henry David Thoreau (July 12, 1817 – May 6, 1862)
Thank you Rob Firchau @ The Hammock Papers for quote. Thank you madamescherzo for the Joaquim Mir (Barcelona 1873-1940) painting titled Paisatge.
Source: gene-how
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Check out Kurt Harden’s blog @ Cultural Offering for great posts including:
Source: Kurt Harden @ Cultural Offering
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When It Comes
Any time. Now. The next minute.
Years from today. You lean forward
and wait. You relax, but you don’t forget.
Someone plans an elaborate party
with a banquet, dancing, even fireworks
when feasting is over. You look at them:
All those years when you searched the world
like a ferret, these never happened – your marriage,
your family, prayers, curses. Only dreams.
A vacuum has opened everywhere. Cities,
armies, those chairs ranked in the great
hall for the audience – there isn’t anyone.
Like a shutter the sky opens and closes
and the show is over. The next act
will deny that anything ever happened.
Your hand falls open. It is empty. It never
held a knife, a flower, gold,
or love, or now. Lean closer –
Listen to me: there isn’t any hand.
Thank you Whiskey River for sharing William Stafford poetry: The Answers Are Inside the Mountains
Thank you Anake Goodall for sharing Artist: Tanha, Iran
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Love the soothing music and the landscapes…as I ease into Sunday morning. Here’s Ola Gjeilo with “Madison.” Good morning…
Thank you Rob Firchau @ the Hammock Papers for sharing another great post. This one…Lindsey Buckingham’s rendition of the Beatles’ classic: “Here Comes The Sun.” Amazing guitar and vocals. You can hear, see and feel Fleetwood Mac coursing throughout…
Can there be a better way to start your day! Two minutes of Ansel Adams’ black and whites with his shots wrapped in terrific background music by Alexander Perls. The song is titled “Holiday (High).” Inspiring…
Source: Thank you God Bless Karma
I first watched this video 2 weeks ago. I found it a bit weird. (OK, maybe a lot wierd.) A bit quirky. Yet, I couldn’t shake it from my mind. I went back once. Then twice. On to 4, 5, 6 times. Perhaps it was the cadence of her voice. Perhaps it was her accent. (Purely Canadian.) Should I share? Hmmmm. I’ll be the weird-non-manly man sharing his bizarre poetry video. I checked the number of views: 4.2 million and counting. (Wow!) So, I’m not alone. Runway is clear. OK for me to share. Tanya Davis – BRAVO!
Tanya Davis
If you are at first lonely, be patient.If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.
Live & Learn 