My designs. My enjoyment. My place.
My designs. My enjoyment. My place.
Baffin night time
This is my 210 published works. And to me the most important.
I was a product of the 60s. And we were full of hope and love and community. We shared all we have for peace and love. We had children early. Not for taxes or prestige. But for the product of love and innocence. We were pure, uncorrupt.
We were not individual hero but a community of caring with out fanfare. We did not get our names or faces broadcast on television as person of the week. Or elevated as a hero. We were unsung as the volunteers who work everyday for the betterment of society. The ones behind the scenes. The ones who does the smallest deed that makes a difference.
We are those who makes a difference in life by saying good morning to everyone and not look for rewards. We are those whom people wonders why are doing that and given a warning of “What he or she is up to.” “What do they want?” “What are they looking for in return?” We are not those who plaster their good deeds in public so they can receive accolades.
We are only there for the reward of a smile; a tear; a hug; and maybe a thank you. Nothing else. We may look odd, strange, pathetic to society. Yet, we are the glue that keeps the community together.
Let us move from the hatred, the distrust and move to the caring and love of humanity. Let us be like the flower children of the 60s instead of the money hoarding of the 21st century.
Where are we going? Look at the faces that symbolizes the community of caring and strangely dress. Let us bring back trust, love, caring, and selflessness back to not only our nation but to the world.
These are pictures from the play about the Fool on the hill. The clown Jesus Christ. He may come in many ways. But you never know what he will look like. Might be a homeless bum or a panhandler. He or she may be a heavy set woman in multiple color and layers of garments. And that is all she may have. May just be asking for a dollar for food. Give her two instead. You never know when you may be asking on the streets for that precious dollar that might be the one life saver.
Think about it. The next time you treat someone like trash on the bottom of your shoe. You may be the someone who is kicked to the ground by that shoe.
Remember, we are all children of God.
We must always return back to our roots. Our Maker. Our God. In what ever name He may go by.
Today politicians are taking the lead in lying all the time for their own gains. And sadly it is not limited to politicians. Now it is assumed that if the politicians lies why can’t the common people do that.
Yesterday I was only asking a question about a picture I saw that was posted on Instagram. Little I would find out it shook the person up and they resorted to lying on the identity of the two people. I recheck and it was the people I thought I saw. I may be old but I am not blind. And sadly I was just complimenting the picture and video as being cute. Nothing harmful. So this was a beautiful compliment turned into a bad experience. Lying does not help. If they were honest this would not have turned bad.
What is it with people hiding behind lies. And to their own friends. I felt sorry for the person I asked. They felt they were put in the middle of an unseen battle. To this day I do not know the bases of this battle. Only because lies are used to hide the true feelings.
To conclude, why don’t people be honest with their feelings. It will save embarrassment and anxiety by telling the truth and not using the excuse that they don’t want to hurt the other person. In the end of lying only damage any possible reconcilement. And it makes an irreversible unneeded animosity and eventually pure stupid hatred.
La casa sembra così vuota di notte. Maria è addormentata e nell’altra stanza è vuota. Come un buco nero che risucchia la vita fuori da questa vita. È così solo. L’amore di Maria e della mia vita sono stati portati via.
Solo Dio può riempire quel vuoto. Per favore prega per la nostra sanità mentale e la nostra anima.
Buonanotte a tutti. Sogni d’oro.