<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534</id><updated>2012-02-07T20:37:31.878-08:00</updated><title type='text'>What sustains you?</title><subtitle type='html'>Here are those things that sustain me through the dark times. What about you?</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-1891632813781727374</id><published>2008-08-26T19:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T19:42:12.182-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Answer #3</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;A lover's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A knowing smile across the room.&lt;br /&gt;That gentle touch a the forearm as we share laughter.&lt;br /&gt;Legs like wet noodles on a Sunday afternoon.&lt;br /&gt;Notes.&lt;br /&gt;Shared memories, the good, the bad, the sad.&lt;br /&gt;Funerals, weddings, birthdays.&lt;br /&gt;Late night popcorn.&lt;br /&gt;Passion fully expressed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-1891632813781727374?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/1891632813781727374/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=1891632813781727374' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/1891632813781727374'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/1891632813781727374'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2008/08/answer-3.html' title='Answer #3'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-7960778868687840367</id><published>2008-04-30T20:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-30T20:33:31.835-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Answer #2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Art.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.allemanphoto.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;Tom Alleman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.getty.edu/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;The Getty&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.huntington.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;The Huntington &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.metmuseum.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;The Met&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lacma.org/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;LACMA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.louvre.fr/louvrea.htm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;The Louvre&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.louvre.fr/louvrea.htm"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-7960778868687840367?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/7960778868687840367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=7960778868687840367' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/7960778868687840367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/7960778868687840367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2008/04/answer-2.html' title='Answer #2'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-3612298240851841078</id><published>2008-04-25T19:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T20:14:46.028-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Answer #1</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I see people fight for their life everyday. Literally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Sometimes, in the darkest moments, they wonder and ask simply- Why? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;First answer-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Nature.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s1600-h/Hawaii+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKa_HLItWI/AAAAAAAAAAg/EqH-RzMAi74/s1600-h/hawaii+1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193383729359795554" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKa_HLItWI/AAAAAAAAAAg/EqH-RzMAi74/s320/hawaii+1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKaW3LItVI/AAAAAAAAAAY/WShmavF55fY/s1600-h/Bston+grounds.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193383037870060882" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKaW3LItVI/AAAAAAAAAAY/WShmavF55fY/s320/Bston+grounds.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s1600-h/Hawaii+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s1600-h/Hawaii+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s1600-h/Hawaii+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SCEdZHLItXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hT5smDTrGag/s1600-h/mts+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197467762221954418" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SCEdZHLItXI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hT5smDTrGag/s320/mts+1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SCEdtnLItYI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xqk0lXHp_p8/s1600-h/valley.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5197468114409272706" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SCEdtnLItYI/AAAAAAAAAA0/xqk0lXHp_p8/s320/valley.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s1600-h/Hawaii+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5193381710725166402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s320/Hawaii+3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKZJnLItUI/AAAAAAAAAAQ/P8nyDs2IxnQ/s1600-h/Hawaii+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-3612298240851841078?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/3612298240851841078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=3612298240851841078' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/3612298240851841078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/3612298240851841078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2008/04/answer-1.html' title='Answer #1'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_6yBJrhD8QNs/SBKa_HLItWI/AAAAAAAAAAg/EqH-RzMAi74/s72-c/hawaii+1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-6227474325692658646</id><published>2007-03-11T12:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T08:30:43.025-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Reminder</title><content type='html'>I am frequently reminded that I am but a passenger. Sometimes, you see, I begin to think that I am the leader of the pack, in charge. And that, inevitably, leads to my getting smacked around a few times...often left bloodied, dazed and disoriented. That is my great reminder, I am just here to to enjoy the ride. I have but one other job. Granted, it is a very difficult job, but it the only one. And only I can complete it. So, when my grandiosity grabs hold, I can always be reassured that I will end up in a deep, soggy, muddy ditch somewhere. My only real concern is to just not take too many folks into that ditch with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-6227474325692658646?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/6227474325692658646/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=6227474325692658646' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/6227474325692658646'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/6227474325692658646'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2007/03/reminder.html' title='The Reminder'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-1141934942525982044</id><published>2007-01-21T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T08:31:45.160-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Life Created</title><content type='html'>I have finally realized that I cannot continue to project what my life should look like or how it should be. I am realizing that my life must be allowed to be created, by small acts of honesty and integrity. What comes will come. But, to decide I want to be rich, or smart, or whatever other projections I may have swallowed- and then work my life to become that...is that not antithesis of how one makes a life? A life to be woven, from small, inconspicous moments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It must simply be created through acts of courage, grace and generosity. From this a life will be made. My hope is to erase all notions of what it should or must or supposed to be. Let life create itself. Trusting as I can to allow my life to unfold, to be created, to develop- And, to not be artificially manufactured from blueprints written in another time, by another soul.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-1141934942525982044?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/1141934942525982044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=1141934942525982044' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/1141934942525982044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/1141934942525982044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2007/01/life-created.html' title='A Life Created'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-2766319713298991195</id><published>2006-11-13T19:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:58:05.857-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Words cannot express...</title><content type='html'>Congratulations, Dr. Alkema.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-2766319713298991195?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/2766319713298991195/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=2766319713298991195' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/2766319713298991195'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/2766319713298991195'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/11/words-cannot-express.html' title='Words cannot express...'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-116032326762721762</id><published>2006-10-08T08:46:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-03-25T08:32:37.207-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10 Years</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Your laugh&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You in lose fitting, low hung, soft, well worn levi's; panty strap showing in the back &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;The excitment of the cats as you pull into the driveway&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Your propensity to start every written sentence with a preposition&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;YOU are a sore loser&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Your ability to still make me laugh so hard that I cannot breath, talk, or stop&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That I still gasp when you wear that sweater&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That you are still the first one I MUST call when I read a great op-ed, hear a funny story, or embarrass myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That you make up words&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You and your brother talking on the phone for hours &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Fainting when you see your own blood- but not others', mind you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;That your weather is sunshine, your climate is stormy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;How you love me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You sustain me...Happy 10 years, baby.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-116032326762721762?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/116032326762721762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=116032326762721762' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/116032326762721762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/116032326762721762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/10/10-years.html' title='10 Years'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-115026026778081888</id><published>2006-06-13T21:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:18.253-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Second Wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color:#990000;"&gt;"&lt;em&gt;I'm not ready to make nice, I'm not ready to back down, I'm mad as hell and don't have time to 'round and 'round and 'round&lt;/em&gt;."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~dixie chicks~&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-115026026778081888?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/115026026778081888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=115026026778081888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/115026026778081888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/115026026778081888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/06/second-wind.html' title='A Second Wind'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-115004385807637081</id><published>2006-06-11T09:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:17.462-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When?</title><content type='html'>"And if not now, when?"--The Talmud&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#660000;"&gt;It's so easy to put things off. "I will start tomorrow", whether it be train for a 1/2 marathon, apply to school, getting organized...But is there always a tomorrow? If we live too many of our days counting on tomorrows, we may find ourselves putting off achievements and growth now. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if tomorrow never came? What if all of our time to do what we wanted was put in the hours left in today? We'd be scurrying around like mice trying to cram as much as we could into this short period of time. But today, not having such a deadline, we believe our time is endless and no goal or task is so important that it can't be put off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time to achieve is now. The time to live is now. For as long as we believe tomorrow will come, we'll be living for tomorrow. If we don't believe today is the greatest gift we could receive, we'll never know how to live for today. Everything we want to achieve, to learn, to share can begin today. If we don't live the best we can right now, then when?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-115004385807637081?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/115004385807637081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=115004385807637081' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/115004385807637081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/115004385807637081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/06/when.html' title='When?'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-114124002478769799</id><published>2006-03-01T11:06:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:16.152-08:00</updated><title type='text'>For the daughters...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#000000;"&gt;I first posted an abridged version of this on &lt;a href="http://www.dooce.com" target="_blank"&gt;Dooce.com&lt;/a&gt; in response to a question presented by Heather B. Armstrong. She asked, in part, "what do you want for your daughters...?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;color:#660000;"&gt;I want my daughters to be free from the bondage of greed and the feelings that they 'never have enough'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish for them to realize the satisfaction and joy of service to others, and to remember these words (as I remember my father so frequently saying to me): &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"For all I have, I owe".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope they can spend more time than not, letting it slide off their backs, finding the humor in other peoples' idiosyncrasies, laughing at themselves (because, you know, if you can't laugh at yourself, you're not paying close enough attention). I wish for them to set their interpersonal barometer too low to fluster over others' mistakes, but not so low that they lose compassion and mercy for the pain and suffering of others.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish for them to realize that, sometimes, just making it through the day is enough...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want them to experience reverence and humility when witnessing the incredible human talent of others; in the art, the architecture, music, literature and poetry that is around us each and every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pray that they fall in love with this great American experiment called Democracy. And that they demand of themselves only full engagement in the process. That is- to study, to vote, to struggle with, to get angry at our governmental systems- all the while embracing and maintaining their devotion in the individual's participation in governance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want them to NEVER stop being shocked, disappointed and becoming down-hearted by mankind's indifference, cruelty and inhumanity towards one another.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I hope my daughters learn that saying 'I don't know', 'tell me more about that', or asking 'what do you think'; brings them one of the greatest freedoms.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I want them to lose their breath, and feel their heart tug when a small child grabs hold of their leg for reassurance and security. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I hope they allow their heart to be broken, to laugh so hard they pee, to cry from reading a book or seeing their team win, to get so angry they cannot NOT walk that picket line, or write that letter to the editor or call their senator.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I want them to remember- it is better to die on your feet than live on your knees. While at the same time- remembering that sometimes it is better to live another day in order to fight another day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I hope that they realize, through their actions, that one person &lt;em&gt;can&lt;/em&gt; make a difference. And to realize what the greatest leaders know: always strive to recognize, encourage and the develop best in others- while overlooking their weaknesses and flaws.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;During the darkest of times, I want my daughters to immediately remember and hear a gentle voice saying:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; For Thou art with me...My cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life".&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I want my daughters to feel that incredible physical rush of falling deep in love with a child; that love where you would, without hesitation, give your life to save theirs. I want them to experinece that love and curiosity I felt when I just wanted to ask my 16 year old a million questions; just for the shear entertainment of her thoughts. While, at the very same moment, you want to just rip out my ovaries at the very thought of having another teenager in the house.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I want them to experience the joy, pride and pleasure of having daughters like them...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;But most of all, I want them to live their entire lives walking their momments, knowing they are loved unconditionally, always and forever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-114124002478769799?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/114124002478769799/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=114124002478769799' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/114124002478769799'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/114124002478769799'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/03/for-daughters.html' title='For the daughters...'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-114109535021571748</id><published>2006-02-27T18:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:15.681-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Our deepest fear...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/rose.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/200/rose.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous and talented?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Actually, who are we not to be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;You are child of God. Your playing small does not serve the would.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;There is nothing enlightening about shrinking so the other people won't feel unsure around you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;We are born to manifest the glory of God that is within us.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;It isn't in just some of us, it is in all of everyone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;As we let out light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;~&lt;em&gt;written for nelson mandella, (for his inauguration, I believe).&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-114109535021571748?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/114109535021571748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=114109535021571748' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/114109535021571748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/114109535021571748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/our-deepest-fear.html' title='Our deepest fear...'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-114013974430849804</id><published>2006-02-16T17:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:14.358-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fine-Tuning</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;"No one can set sail and expect to forget the wind. First you stand in the open air, feel the wind touch your face, take note of its direction and force. Then you set your sail to carry your boat towards your goal. In addition, you continue to recheck the wind because it is ever changing".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"We might wish we could nail down our achievements when we finally reach them, stop the march of time, or keep our loved ones safe where they are. Just when we think we have everything together, something changes. Children grow up, jobs change, new neighbors move in next door. Like a sailor, we must continually fine-tune our life bearings. Whether change is welcome or not, we must respond. Our main choice is not what will change but how we respond. If we hold too tightly to willful thinking, we are not attuned. However, if we make peace with change, we grow. We will be transformed into more than we could have imagined".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;~&lt;em&gt;adapted from online daily inspiration.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Every overnight success was 20 years in the making...&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-114013974430849804?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/114013974430849804/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=114013974430849804' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/114013974430849804'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/114013974430849804'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/fine-tuning.html' title='Fine-Tuning'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-113987600617865051</id><published>2006-02-13T14:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:14.084-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everyone needs an Aunt Marilyn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/ferris%20wheel.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/200/ferris%20wheel.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Marilyn and Jim were a young, hip- good looking married couple from New York. Jim was dashing and big hearted, Marilyn ethnic Italian, catholic and a sense of humor that was contagious. They introduced Sam and Joan. He was smart, distinguished- somewhat pompous, smoked a pipe with a nice jacket to match. She was clever funny, an hourglass figure (Someone barbie was modeled after) and an artist no less. They soon married.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Joan and Sam were Marilyn and Jim's best friends from college. The men at private engineering colleges- Joan and Marilyn- SUNY Buffalo. I was Joan and Sam's third child- a painfully shy, brown eyed, sweet kid...didn't talk much. Marilyn and Jim were my Godparents, being the good Jew that my mother was, and how catholic her friend was- having her be my godmother was most fitting...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Joan and Sam, and Jim and Marilyn set up homesteads, with nice looking, well mannered kids, good jobs in the city and bright futures on the horizon. Big houses on long island, each weekend with fresh oysters and lobsters; martinis for the men, bloodymarys for the gals, tennis lessons and the country club on Sunday...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;Jim got a good offer in a city out west, Denver, Colorado. For city folk like them- practically the wild, wild west. I was still in diapers when they left with their young son, new car and high hopes for adventure and prosperity. My mother got the call. Jim was ill, they couldn't do much...he died of cancer within 18 months. Marilyn, heartbroken- young son in tow, returned to long island a widow barely two years after leaving. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;I have no memory of my uncle Jim,,just my uncle Dan, who my aunt married a few years later. I remember uncle Dan as quiet, kind, pipe smoking- he would take me to his workshop and show my all the wood carving he was doing...Great stuff- lots of frames for my aunts many wonderful paintings. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;When I was 7, my family moved to sunny California, where I have stayed ever since. When I was little, my mom always tucked me in, and she'd say that I had a guardian angel that watched out for me- that we all did. In my mind's eye, it was Aunt Marilyn. I saw her twice from the time I was 7 until I was 40 years old. But, I always knew she loved me unconditionally, and would be there no matter what. She was funny, kind, smart and creative- laughed always and every one loved her. And, I knew she thought I was the best thing since apple pie. So, all my life, I always had my Aunt Marilyn. Perhaps as much as a faith and inner voice, as much as a reality. But, I carried her with me, and always knew I had her to fall back on-even though I never actually did- in the sense of turning to her in any time of need. Just knowig I always could made a huge difference in my life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;My uncle Dan became ill with Alzheimers.  When I turned 40, we went to visit my aunt on the east coast (Florida) where my uncle was in a beautiful care facility, and my aunt lived near by in a nice home. My aunt cautioned us that he recognized no one, not her- and certainly not me after all these years. The moment I saw him, tears began streaming down my face. She took him by the hand and we all went out to a patio where we sat in the warm sunlight; it was Christmas Day. She fed him sweet, soft donut holes.  He slowly ate them, no teeth, just very tough gums.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I will forever remember the look in her eyes. This unconditional love, warmth and compassion- for someone who does not really know she exits- or who she was. He has no memory of their history- they have a grown son together.  Anothr artist.  The love and sparkle in her eyes as she looked at him was uncundiitonal, joyful and pure.  She searched deeply in his eyes- perhaps hoping he could feel a momentary glimpse of her undying love for him.  She reminded me that love can be a one way street. She loves him with receiving nothing in return- not even his recognition. I just quietly cried.  She just stroked his hand, softly repeating his name. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;The love that she expressed to me, inside me always, and the pure love she has for my uncle- just knowing that exists in my world...sustains me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Everyone needs an Aunt Marilyn...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#000099;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-113987600617865051?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/113987600617865051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=113987600617865051' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113987600617865051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113987600617865051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/everyone-needs-aunt-marilyn.html' title='Everyone needs an Aunt Marilyn'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-113969706216585388</id><published>2006-02-11T14:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:13.824-08:00</updated><title type='text'>These Times</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I came across this. I do not know who is the author. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;It reminds me that I am not alone, I can perservere, and we can help sustain us...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;We were made for these times.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have heard so many recently that they are deeply and properly bewildered, saddened and fatigued. We are all concerned about the state of affairs in our world right now...Ours is a time of almost daily astonishment and righteous rage over the latest degradations of what matters most to all civilized, visionary, merciful people. You are right in your assessments. The luster and hubris some have aspired to while endorsing acts so heinous against children, elders, the poor, the unguarded, the helpless, is breathtaking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet, I ask you, urge you- my gentle soul, to please not spend your spirit dry by bewailing these difficult times. And especially do not lose hope. Most particularly because, the fact is, we were made for these times. Yes. For years, we have been learning, practicing, been in training for and just waiting to meet on this exact plain of engagement... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I recognize a sea worthy vessel, and I see them all around. Regarding awakened souls, there have never been more able crafts in thewaters than there are right now across the world. And they are fully provisioned and able to signal one another as never before in the history of humankind. Look out over the prow; there are millions of boats of righteous souls on the waters with you. Even though your veneers may shiver from every wave in this stormy roil, I assure you that the long timbers composing your prow and rudder come from a greater forest. That long-grained lumber is known to withstand storms, to hold together, to hold its own, andto advance, regardless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been in training for a dark time such as this, since the day weassented to come to Earth. For many decades, worldwide, souls just like us have been felled and left for dead in so many ways over and over broughtdown by naivete, by lack of love, by being ambushed and assaulted by various cultural and personal shocks in the extreme. We have a history of being gutted, and yet remember this especially - we have also, of necessity, perfected the knack of resurrection. Over and over again we have been the living proof that that which has been exiled, lost, or foundered can berestored to life again. We were once strangers in a strange land, but no longer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In any dark time, there is a tendency to veer toward fainting over how much is wrong or unhealed in the world. Do not focus on that. There is a tendency, too, to fall into being weakened from perseverance on what is outside yourreach, by what cannot yet be. Do not focus there. That is spending the windwithout raising the sails. We are needed, that is all we can know. And though we meet resistance, we more so will meet great souls who will hail us, love us and guide us, and we will know them when they appear. Didn't you say you were a believer? Didn't you say you pledged to seek devine will? Didn't you ask for grace? Don't you remember that to be in grace means to be of service to a greater cause, to the greater voice?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but ofstretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist someportion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts, by whom, will cause the critical mass to tiptoward an enduring good. What is needed for dramatic change is an accumulation of acts, adding, adding to, adding more, continuing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We know that it does not take "everyone on Earth" to bring justice, mercy and then peace, butonly a small, determined group who will not give up during the first, second, or hundredth gale.One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in astormy world is to stand up and show your soul. Soul on deck shines likegold in dark times. The light of the soul throws sparks, can send up flares,builds signal fires, cause proper matters to catch fire. To display thelantern of soul in shadowy times like these - to be fierce and to show mercytoward others, both, are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity. Struggling souls catch light from other souls who are fully lit and willingto show it. If you would help to calm the tumult, this is one of the strongest things you can do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There will always be times when you feel discouraged. I, too, have felt despair many times in my life, but I do not keep a chair for it; I will not entertain it. It is not allowed to eat from my plate, nor rent space in my soul. The reason is this: In my uttermost bones I know something, as do you. There can be no despair when you remember why you came to Earth, who you serve, and who sent you here. The good words we say and the good deeds we do are not ours: They are the words and deeds of the One who brought us here. When a great ship is in harbor and moored, it is safe, there can be no doubt. But that is not what great ships are built for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by what you did not do than what you did. Sail away from the safe harbor and catch the trade winds in your sail".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;~Mark Twain&lt;/em&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-113969706216585388?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/113969706216585388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=113969706216585388' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113969706216585388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113969706216585388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/these-times.html' title='These Times'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-113967089304932642</id><published>2006-02-11T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:13.207-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Peace, Justice and Mercy</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/windows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/200/windows.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;There can be no peace without justice, and there can be no justice without mercy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Peace is a daily, a weekly, and monthly process, gradually changing opinions, slowly eroding old barriers, and quietly building new structures". ~jf kennedy&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-113967089304932642?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/113967089304932642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=113967089304932642' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113967089304932642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113967089304932642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/peace-justice-and-mercy.html' title='Peace, Justice and Mercy'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-113952859791938886</id><published>2006-02-09T15:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:12.652-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Vermont</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/barn.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/320/barn.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;My Grandpa Al used to take me out around the Green mountains in his blue Catalina station wagon; that kind of car that floated down the road and you only one finger to drive. I was about 16 and he'd take me to all the old barns in and around the Arlington area. Of course, all the barns were old, if not in appearance only. Weathered is perhaps a more appropriate term.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I left and did not return to Vermont for 10 years. I love the fact that, upon my return, driving up from Albany, I could still make my way to the cabin by way of barn, tree and stump. Nothing changed. Not one more house built, no apartments or condos, at least as I understand them, being from Southern California.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/barn%202.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/320/barn%202.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Vermont has an aroma that is so sweet, so clean, so crisp it makes my lungs ache and my head light (probably has to a little to so with growing up in LA smog). The soil is so dark and rich, you'd swear it's shredded extra dark chocolate. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I took these photos in 1998, the year my grandpa Al passed away. I still can smell his cigars, and hear him call me by his nick name for me, 'kid'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;"Listen, Kid", he'd say, "You don't let them tell you nothin...You live your life, be who you are- you answer to none of those bastards".&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Vermont, and memories of my Grandpa Al, sustain me through the low times...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/grandpa%20al.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/320/grandpa%20al.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-113952859791938886?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/113952859791938886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=113952859791938886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113952859791938886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113952859791938886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/vermont.html' title='Vermont'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-113916978399049722</id><published>2006-02-05T11:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:10.658-08:00</updated><title type='text'>With every sunset, a new dawn</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;I was in Key West 2 years ago, during the winter break. Everyone was pouring into the roof top bar, where she and I were having coffee and reading. There was a buzz in there air; the anticipation palliable. It was around 4:30 pm, so we guessed that a ship was going to be pulling in soon, or something of the like. Finally, I turned and asked the tourist standing behind my chair, what all the clamoring was about- what were we waiting for? 'Oh, the sun will be setting on the ocean soon!!', he responded gleefully.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Well, I have lived in Southern California for the last 30 years. My home is within 5 miles of the ocean. A bike ride on the beach is a 30 minute excursion. She grew up in a home where the master bedroom and front porch have stunning ocean views. It was not &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/1600/sunset%20for%20cathy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 245px" height="320" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/4340/1493/320/sunset%20for%20cathy.jpg" width="196" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;until she was ten did she actually realized the whole world did not live within walking distance of an ocean. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;So, on that roof top bar that evening two years ago, I turned to her and asked, "They've never seen a sunset? What gives?" "Not into the ocean, honey", she replied. Oh. I see it every day. I make the effort to check out the sunset every evening. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;I do this for a few reasons. First and foremost; to replenish my soul. My soul has that propensity towards melancholia. I get discouraged. Disappointed. The simple beauty and infinite uniqueness of every sunset expand my heart. I do believe that I was meant to stay in the battle, so I sometimes tune into more of the underbelly of our world and culture than the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;beauty. So, a daily does of nature's beauty replenishes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;Another purpose for me to seek the sunset is as a reminder that I, too, get a new day, every day. Life is cyclical, and all things live, flourish and die. This too shall pass...As it is darkest before the dawn, it is most radiant before the darkness comes. Only to be followed by a new dawn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;And, finally, I watch the sunset fall below the horizon because it is one of the answers to the question of why. Some other answers are art, beauty, literature, music, nature, love, fellowship, the human body. Ripe fruit. Good wine. Love making.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="color:#660000;"&gt;This sustains me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-113916978399049722?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/113916978399049722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=113916978399049722' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113916978399049722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113916978399049722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/with-every-sunset-new-dawn.html' title='With every sunset, a new dawn'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21739534.post-113911629238042245</id><published>2006-02-04T20:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2006-11-13T19:54:09.441-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;Your warm breath on the back of my neck at 3 am. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;That look on your face when you spot me in the crowd at the airport, picking you up from one more business trip. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;Your laugh.&lt;br /&gt;Your drool on my pillow.&lt;span style="color:#000000;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;That I give you strength, and you give me mine.&lt;br /&gt;That I know deep in my soul that I will wake up to you every day for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;The way in which you love your brother.&lt;br /&gt;Your beef stroganoff. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;That I am the one you call first...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;Waking up entangled.&lt;br /&gt;Calling in the pizza order because you hate to 'deal with stuff like that'. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;The way you swear when you stub your toe on my shoes at 4 am, coming back from the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;The way in which you treat my mother, and sister, and brother...&lt;br /&gt;Your taste; sweet and salty.&lt;br /&gt;GEA Sunday Night Cake with lemon. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;When you reach out and caress my arm at 1 am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;Laughing together.&lt;br /&gt;Sunday mornings.&lt;br /&gt;Us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We sustain me...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;color:#660000;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/21739534-113911629238042245?l=mysustenance.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/feeds/113911629238042245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=21739534&amp;postID=113911629238042245' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113911629238042245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/21739534/posts/default/113911629238042245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysustenance.blogspot.com/2006/02/you.html' title='You'/><author><name>jlf</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
