Alan Levine has made a request for “openness stories”. Here is my comment, not a rejection but more a recognition of my desire for openness and my failure to achieve it.
Don’t take this wrong, but if anybody was interested in my voice and stories I would have thought I might know it by now. There are so many worthy stories available from everyone that I can’t really justify telling one more of mine. Face it, folks just ain’t that into me. And I guess I would be lying if I said it didn’t bother me. OK, I’m over it. Friday is grandparent’s day for my granddaughter in Kindergarten. And that will be enough for me.
Here’s a story well worth sharing and watching–the virtuoso banjo picker, Bela Fleck, playing “Rhapsody in Blue”– beyond any words I can manage.
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I tune into your blog often and am always rewarded with something special, like this video. If I were not watching, but just listening, I’d think I was hearing someone playing the piano.
I’m sure many of your #clmooc friends (and others) know your story, and where to find you. No need to find other places to share them.
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This is always the story. How can you say it’s a failure to achieve openness from your long history here and where you share beyond? And you calling me and Daniel nobody? 😉
Yes I understand and I have likely went back to this venture too many times. Nearly every time the stories came from direct asks, but I do not want to keep badgering folks.
And so the story I can tell is that stories are not here (they need not be in my site) but widely distributed. Enjoy the grandparents day and just keep on doing and sharing in your own space.
This is appreciated trust me.
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First, I trust you.
Second, stories, like the future, are widely distributed.
Third, keep on rewinding. We really can’t walk in the same river twice.
Fourth, I mistook this for a repeat moment instead of what it really was (and is) and ichigo ichie moment where the truth is simple: what we are experiencing right now will never happen again. I need to be reminded of this on the regular.
Fifth,
anyone lived in a pretty how town
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
Last, your well is deep, keep drinking, keep badgering, keep re-minding and re-wilding.
And keep forgiving:
“If we shadows have offended,
Think but this, and all is mended,
That you have but slumbered here
While these visions did appear.
And this weak and idle theme,
No more yielding but a dream,
Gentles, do not reprehend:
If you pardon, we will mend:
And, as I am an honest Puck,
If we have unearned luck
Now to ‘scape the serpent’s tongue,
We will make amends ere long;
Else the Puck a liar call;
So, good night unto you all.
Give me your hands, if we be friends,
And Robin shall restore amends.”
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Room here for another? I’m here.
🙂
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always, dogtrax, and bring Kevin with you.