BUILDING THE HUT

I BUILT it 1973-1975.. My dad walked up to it with me some years before he died. And he died in 1978. I was going to build it north of Highway 63 and north of the train tracks, then he said: “Why don’t you build it on family land?” I was saying to him, “I’m not interested in business.” That must have annoyed him, for he sold the “family land” to a company about to be formed. So I had to get involved in the company and bought a share. Then I restricted the number of other shareholders involved, so I still had some control. I lived in the hut through two winters, stoking the woodstove – with no electricity or media.

"A STORMY NIGHT IN A PLACE CALLED HOME" and "TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE"

nope ---- UP UP UP

OUTPOST IN THE DEEP NORTH

HANK'S TALE Half my family died in a bomb blast LAst week. So I took this job here - only to discover that my boss, the editor of the Paper had died - in what seems a very strange manner. The newspaper has closed it's doors, I'm not sure why... The stories I'm hearing are too bizarre, so I'm renting a window and desk space upstairs at Artie's bar, which I'm told never closes. My window looks out over the Main Lane, which is rarely busy. The inhabitants of this place hit the bar at any hour. I hear shouts, racous laughter from the bar below...and the occasional shotgun blast - the only sounds in this village above the great McKenzie River. All else is silence. And the cawing of ravens and crows... Then more silence.

TAKE YOUR JAM OFF THE TABLE

Take your jam off the table And that foreign marmalade Take it all, if you are able And lay it in a lonesome grave * Lay it with the pictures You always used to save The pictures of your boyfriend And the faces that he made * I LEFT my door wide open Out into the ran I thought I could close it long ago But I've never been the same * Your eyes are young and lovely Yor rivers are shining blue Lately I've heard the stories They've been telling on you * None of them are true (these stories) None of them are true They're not sories of you * Take your eyes off the sunset That screams into the night Take your mind off those cigarettes You smoke with all your might * What the priest in the churches didn't tell you Or the headlines in the smoke Amid rumours of gossip and war From minds that have lost their hope * There's a place that's for you On that further shore You can end your lonesome journey to the truth Right by your kitchen door * Take your jam off the table Keep it set for two I'll put a light in your window I'll wait there for you. * (C)1990 by William Milne

THERE IS ONE TIME BEYOND ALL TIME

There is one time beyond all time      that contains this history;
There is one mind beyond reason
      or rhyme
      that tastes this mystery:

"I am he who is beyond all names,
      who sees beyond time or place;
"I am He who is of the same
The Same attained to me, and I          realized it:
My own Identity, beyond names.
I am He who was before my
       forefathers came to be."

SPECIES CAN DREAM

HOWEVER MUCH you pay us - a dollar or a dime With mountains above us or with a stream, We're the ony species who can stand And laugh and cry at the same time ...And dream. (C)2021 by W.G. Milne

Bob Dylan - Changing of the Guards (Audio) EDEN IS BURNING...iMAGES AND SYMBOLS--- DIRECT POETRY AND SPEECH

THE MEANING OF LIFE

Because I mentioned I passed thru the ENLIGHTENMENT experience... people ask me questions... There are angels and powers all around us.. and if you do your sitting,you'll meet mind masters from around the globe. All you have to do is prepare a space within you - a space where Grace may enter - and learn to listen in depth. Wonders with come once your heart-mind opens.

Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety. (Wordsworth, "My Heart Leaps Up") There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, The earth, and every common sight, To me did seem Apparelled in celestial light, The glory and the freshness of a dream. It is not now as it hath been of yore;— Turn wheresoe'er I may, By night or day. The things which I have seen I now can see no more. The Rainbow comes and goes, And lovely is the Rose, The Moon doth with delight Look round her when the heavens are bare, Waters on a starry night Are beautiful and fair; The sunshine is a glorious birth; But yet I know, where'er I go, That there hath past away a glory from the earth. Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, And while the young lambs bound As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong: The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, And all the earth is gay; Land and sea Give themselves up to jollity, And with the heart of May Doth every Beast keep holiday;— Thou Child of Joy, Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy. Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call Ye to each other make; I see The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; My heart is at your festival, My head hath its coronal, The fulness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all. Oh evil day! if I were sullen While Earth herself is adorning, This sweet May-morning, And the Children are culling On every side, In a thousand valleys far and wide, Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm:— I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! —But there's a Tree, of many, one, A single field which I have looked upon, Both of them speak of something that is gone; The Pansy at my feet Doth the same tale repeat: Whither is fled the visionary gleam? Where is it now, the glory and the dream? Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close Upon the growing Boy, But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day. Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, And, even with something of a Mother's mind, And no unworthy aim, The homely Nurse doth all she can To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, Forget the glories he hath known, And that imperial palace whence he came. Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, A six years' Darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learn{e}d art A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral; And this hath now his heart, And unto this he frames his song: Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little Actor cons another part; Filling from time to time his "humorous stage" With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, That Life brings with her in her equipage; As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation. Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,— Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! On whom those truths do rest, Which we are toiling all our lives to find, In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; Thou, over whom thy Immortality Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, A Presence which is not to be put by; Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke The years to bring the inevitable yoke, Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, And custom lie upon thee with a weight, Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That Nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction: not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest; Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:— Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realised, High instincts before which our mortal Nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised: But for those first affections, Those shadowy recollections, Which, be they what they may Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make Our noisy years seem moments in the being Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, To perish never; Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, Nor Man nor Boy, Nor all that is at enmity with joy, Can utterly abolish or destroy! Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song! And let the young Lambs bound As to the tabor's sound! We in thought will join your throng, Ye that pipe and ye that play, Ye that through your hearts to-day Feel the gladness of the May! What though the radiance which was once so bright Be now for ever taken from my sight, Though nothing can bring back the hour Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; We will grieve not, rather find Strength in what remains behind; In the primal sympathy Which having been must ever be; In the soothing thoughts that spring Out of human suffering; In the faith that looks through death, In years that bring the philosophic mind. And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, Forebode not any severing of our loves! Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; I only have relinquished one delight To live beneath your more habitual sway. I love the Brooks which down their channels fret, Even more than when I tripped lightly as they; The innocent brightness of a new-born Day Is lovely yet; The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

White Dress EROS WITH TIFFANY

Tiffany Preston in White Dress

In this world though everything must change, "YOU KNOW THAT ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME." I wrote this on a ship going around the world. I did two concerts on the ship, this paid for half my fare. I fell in love with the ship's nurse. She was leaving the ship in the bay of Naples - to go back to Denmark. This song's about our last night together. She was asleep in the bed of my cabin ( cabin U2). I watched her dreaming as I sat at my desk, her face coloured in the light of a coloured lantern hanging from above. I could feel the movement of the ship as she slept. "And they say pain will defeat us But I I just can't see it I'm too happy to believe it... IN this world though everything must change, YOU KNOW THAT ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME." (C)1980-2017 by W.G. Milne and John Rock Corporation. All rights reserved. Hope you like this song as much as I do!

ONLY LOVE MAY STAY THE SAME

Rebel Music (3 O' Clock Roadblock) (Live At The Rainbow Theatre, London ...

ROSEMARY with band..JOHNNY ROCK returning from JAMAICA

THE BELLY OF THE BEAST AND HEAVEN'S DOOR - A DISCUSSION OF MANIC DEPRESSIVE ILLNESS------------ HOW TO PREDICT YOUR DANGEROUS TIMES

THE BELLY OF THE BEAST AND HEAVEN'S DOOR - A DISCUSSION OF MANIC DEPRESSIVE ILLNESS------------ HOW TO PREDICT YOUR DANGEROUS TIMES The following article may seem not to apply to tennis. But if something like one out of ten people are affected by this illness, then it becomes significant, RE: "Managing the Mental Part of the Game" - What this Blog is all about. THE BELLY OF THE BEAST AND HEAVEN'S DOOR - A DISCUSSION OF MANIC-DEPRESSIVE ILLNESS;----------HOW TO PREDICT YOUR DANGEROUS TIMES One out of between ten to twenty players will be affected. I've been in the belly of the beast for three weeks now, underwater, in the tunnel. And the worst part of it - I didn't know it. I thought the Doom that I was feeling was permanent: feeling doom was simply reality, just the way it things are. Learn to live with it. Right! That is horrible advice! I feel just fine now. The cycle is moving along in its inexorable way and I don't worry about a thing. I can organize twelve things at once that's what I think in the manic part of my life. And the problem is, at that particular time, I really can do it! So I get twelve projects started, and people agreeing to work with me. I can make million dollar deals. I once put a bid in for a gravel pit. I put in a call to the owner at 7:30 A.M. and he was up. I asked him how much he wanted for his pit trucks, conveyers and loaders. He said 7 million. We phoned each other back and forth. By breakfast I had him down to 4 million.I'm good at that kind of bargaining. Problem was I had about three dollars in the bank. There was the fact that I didn't really want or need a gravel pit to begin with. You might say, "How crazy can you get? Buying something you don't even want." Well I can get a lot crazier than this. Once I get an IDEA and I'm manic, well, I'll follow the idea through rapidly It's all this manic energy running through me. You can make deals that you think you can manage. And maybe you would be able to manage a major enterprise, if you stayed in that manic state. Problem is, next comes depression. And when you are in deep clinical depression, all your ability to follow through is gone and all urges to follow through are extinguished. You are immobilized. And you can be in serious trouble. In deep and ongoing depression, the only creative urge you might have, is the urge to end the utter misery of your worthless life...(you are saying this to yourself. The negative script is a component of depression - and the voice(s) in your head telling yourself how stupid and useless you are, how lazy... And on top of these things, what a prick you are! This continuing script, in my view, has to be attacked. One quarter to one third of manic depressives kill themselves. So obviously it's a dangerous disease. I hadn't been taking my diagnosis seriously. I just thought I was way, way out there. I started plotting out my cycle for the depressed period, way before I knew about any diagnosis, I knew I was subject to a disturbing cycle. There's a short period of time during your depression, I call it "the depressive peak." That's when you have to really watch yourself. You can really go over the top, during the peak ( which might be 3 days or thee hours or three weeks). You have to counter the negative self-talk with positive images, which you have prepared repeatedly. There are ways to train yourself to picture one scene of a place you love, or a person you love with whom you feel grounded, or tender moments with a dog or cat. You find these moments of joy within yourself (And sometimes it takes a week to think up even one such image. Don't worry. Just don't stop. You need the positive image to counteract the ravening beast who is calling you names, deep in your own mind. Press one index finger on one hand against the index finger of the other hand. This becomes a trigger for you. Every time you press the two fingers together, you imagine your beautiful scene. When you have a horrible suicidal thought, you trigger the scene to offset the doom and gloom of the thought , and it helps...truly it does help. But it takes a while and it takes practice. You have to practice. The non-medicinal cure takes work. It works better if you can borrow a hypnotist to help you with your "imagining sessions" and to help you embed your image into your mind so you can call up the scenes of joy and happiness quickly, when you are in desperate straits. When you are under attack... We all get in desperate straits. I used to hit the depressive peak every thirty-four days. I'd map the times of my cycle. I had to, to protect my life, it was a lot better when I knew the timing of each phase my cycle time map. I used to call it my 'psyche map'. At least when you are attacked, when this dark curtain is pulled across your heart and mind, you know when it's coming. You have a calendar of days. You have a map of your own psyche. By writing down notes on each stage of your cycle, as you pass through each cycle, you can nail the time frames down. It will take about three times through, to get a somewhat accurate cycle time map. You know when your depressive peak is coming And more important you know when it's leaving, and you know it IS GOING TO LEAVE. You know this dark beast is leaving. And you have a projection as to how soon it will leave. So you know this terrible darkness will stay for just so long. This way you are dealing with a finite situation. You are no longer facing infinite misery. The feeling of Doom will NOT stay with you for the rest of your life. Just this one little step can make a huge improvement in your life. You are going from passive to active. And that always feels good and helps relieve the feeling of "helpless" and "hopeless" Of course , there are exceptions! I've just come out of a 2 or 3 month depression and I didn't even know I was depressed! Sometimes it comes up on you from behind... And creeps into your being slowly, oh so slowly that you don't feel its presence or it's growing power over you, until you're in a situation that seems impossible to change. (This is starting to sound like a sci-fi movie) . The weird stuff happens. There's no denying this fact. But I'd say the 'psyche cycle',the timing of your cycle, which enables you to project your dangerous time... I'd say this works and will help you 8/10ths of the time. Good luck and happy hunting. Respectfully submitted, R.R.R. (C)2014 by William G. Milne Posted by WILLIAM MILNE at 3:27 PM Email This BlogThis! Share to Twitter Share to Facebook Share to Pinterest

On The Way: The Daily Zen Journal Nov 15 2020 The Sermon of No Words Takashina Rōsen (1876-1968) There is an ancient saying: “Better an inch of practice than a foot of preaching.” It refers to the sermon preached by the body itself, through action and without speaking. The sermon of words and phrases is the finger pointing to the moon, the fist knocking at the door. The object is to see the moon not the finger, to get the door open and not the knocking itself; so far as these things do achieve their objects they are fine. The object of the Buddha's life of preaching was not to turn words and phrases. The Diamond Sutra compares his sermons to a raft, which is only an instrument for reaching the far shore. The sermon which is an instrument can be discarded after a time, but the real preaching---which is not discarded—is the preaching by the body itself. As to what that preaching may be, the truth of it is very profound, but in simple language it means that others receive right inspiration from that person. It is said that when a Bodhisattva has continued his or her spiritual practice for three kalpa-ages s/he is qualified to be a Buddha. After a hundred ages, their appearance becomes majestic. This does not mean anything outwardly magnificent, but it means that in helping others the manner in which the things are done is of first importance, and through the force of wisdom and compassion there manifests in them a peculiar dignity and tenderness. By contemplating the form of Bodhisattvas like Kannon and Jizo, one's heart becomes somehow softened, but along with that there is something awe-inspiring which cannot be easily expressed. When a person feels it within all the time, it is naturally reflected in his or her outward appearance, and love and respect are attracted to them from others. What gives us inspiration is the sermon of action of the Bodhisattvas. They have the power to do it without uttering a word. But it is not to be confined to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. For religious and other teachers, for all who stand in authority whether over many, as head of a household with many dependents, or as employer of a single man or woman, it is all-important. A sermon is not something said by the Buddha long ago, or prated nowadays from a pulpit. The sermon of words is like a sort of advertising puff; but the real sermon is when the employer acts as a right employer, the worker as a right worker, and so on with the merchant and official. All things, dogs and cats, trees and grass, things animate and inanimate, have also to express their right path, and, so far as they keep to it without faltering, it is the sermon of action. A poem of Sontoku expresses it: “Without voice or incense, heaven and earth are ever repeating the unwritten scripture.” The man called Reiun was realised when he saw the peach blossoms; Kyogen when he heard a stone strike against bamboo. There are instances of people who having matured their spiritual training were then enlightened on seeing the flying petals and falling leaves of autumn. The Buddha himself had great realization on seeing the brilliance of the morning star. In the same way the mountains and rivers and sun and moon and stars, every morning and night, are preaching the sermon to bring us to realization. We should understand that it is never effective merely to rebuke others harshly. Let each of us keep to our own role and play it properly; then a beauty will manifest spontaneously; high and low will be affected, and their conduct will change to harmony and virtue. Since the self is a creation of the mind and good and bad too are from the mind or, rather, correspond to the spiritual beauty or ugliness of the person, the first thing is to train the mind. Training produces a charm and power which appears externally and affects others. There are various ways and means in spiritual training, but the first thing is faith. One's faith may be true or false, right or mistaken, shallow or deep, high or low and so on. When this reverent faith bubbles up in us, our everyday limited nature of itself begins to shine with the light of compassion, and the beauty and power of the true heart break forth, and we move in harmony with the Buddha-light. When this happens the virtues of the Buddha-body are ever in our breast, and from head to foot our action is prompted by the Buddha. Such is the life of faith, and in it every incident preaches the sermon of action. Those who have not light in their hearts are always in darkness, a darkness in which a hundred demons come and go. Under their sway, life goes from darkness to darkness, ordinances of heaven are broken, and there is much suffering. Faith is all important to people, and it is given to us by religion. There are different religions also, but in Japan Buddhism has come down in an unbroken stream for well over a thousand years and has deeply penetrated the life of the people. If we live with faith in the Way and in the Bodhisattva spirit preach the sermon of action, we ... demonstrate the sermon of no words to the people of the world, and this is the supreme task today. Takashina Rōsen (1876-1968) Source: A Second Zen Reader By: Trevor P Leggett 2020

Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah (Live In London)

WHEN I SAW YOU new

GOING DOWN, GOING DOWN TO THE LOWER SIDE OF TOWN MILNE LYRICS, VOCALS...

Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding - with lyrics

Try A Little Tenderness - Otis Redding - with lyrics