You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘love’ category.


And so many ways to say it.

398112_10101708209092101_945525235_n

(*The three pictures that look alike in this post were taken in Japan and include my daughter who lives there.)

Thing is, we have millions of quotes from history that hit their intended mark.  Shakespeare’s works contain a lifetime of reading filled with spot on observations when it comes to Man’s nature. All of that is good; our history of triumphs filled with magnificent people like those buried at Notre Dame creates a wonderful spring-board for us to better understand the present. Still, I’d like to go back, just a bit, though it might land in a time when many of you weren’t yet born…

(About 1963…)

I started singing on stage during school productions when I was about 12, if that’s about sixth grade. My first big ,’hit,’ was the singing of, Sixteen Tons…and what do you get,….How hot those stage lights were.

Before I knew it, I was wearing turtle necks and black felt boots thinking I’d become Beatle-like. My friend, Pete Einhorn, and I sang in to microphones at home made of pull down TV room ceiling lamps. Later on, we’d stand in fields of flowers, sit on railroad tracks and perform in friend’s up stair bedrooms.

guitar players of the corn

We made tracks to Goshen, NY.

We wrote plenty of songs to sing, but none of them made it big.

No, maybe our biggest moments came when performing for producers in New York city’s 666 building or out on Long island in producer’s homes. They about all said the same thing after listening to our music… “You (me) can really sing, kid! And you (Pete) can really play well.” Unfortunately, I think that also meant that I couldn’t play well and Pete couldn’t sing much”-not back then. Ha! Once, a gal picked Pete and me up at a park as we sat around stone out of our gourds and singing our hearts out.  She took us to her home and had us play there…. in walks her dad, Perry Como, who said about the same words to us as had most producers, then he walked out.

Me, around 1970… still rockin’ and singing.

Why did I sing, play and write songs? Really not so much for any money, but for an inner sense that I wanted to help people with the ideas our music expressed. Make it,’ Big?’ No, but we were lucky to be a part of a huge movement soon to come.

This was the start of a movement in time much bigger than any success Pete or I hoped to have. People started flashing the Peace sign where ever they went, like they still do in Japan when pictures are being taken.

284111_10150736234110548_4695602_n

Reefer and acid started flowing around like wind-blown thistles.  There was talk of ending not just the Nam War but all war. Free love was, and any bad outcome from that could be solved with a doctor visit. No worries…we just kept on,’Trucking’

It can sometimes take years to understand the value of any Generation. Has enough time past to allow for a fair assessment of the Baby Boomers? Free Love? Equal Rights? The End of War? Freedom to be yourself and look how you like? A pot—head in every home? Legalized Pot? Throw the bras out? Grow your hair long? Impeach Nixon?  Food for Peace? These were some of the slogans carried by many of the Baby Boomers. So, how have we done as a generation that called for so much societal change?

Some things may never change or haven’t.

You have to admit, after 50 years the Pot laws are starting to turn around! Nixon is long gone while wars go on and on.  The Food for Peace program, an idea that seemed a no Brianer, actually bankrupt farmers in South America and turned them to growing pot for money which subsequently lead to their fields and lives being sprayed with Paraquat. Bra’s now-a-days come off and go on as styles change. Unfortunately, many of us who once marched for Peace and sang at Woodstock have become representatives and leaders , CEO’s and whatnot who are much like the same old sexist, short-sighted individuals we have had in the past doing those same jobs.

But, there IS one thing my generation gave to the next and hopefully to all that follow: the right to look like you want to look. After being spit upon by laughing adults back in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s for my long hair, it gives me great joy to see the various ways people choose to look, and without scorn from most of our society. This is the one thing our generation accomplished for certain. Go ahead, dye your hair five different colors; tattoo your body from head to toe; dig those body piercings; flashy clothes, large or small glasses; ties or not; shorts, skirts, pants—just do it. No worries.

Peace on how you look. And, whether we achieved it or not,  much of our Generation’s message was filled with the notion of Peace.

603451_10152049420405548_783803003_n

From our Generation to yours, you’re welcome. I’m hoping following Generations can get that notion of World- Peace we longed for down pat.

“All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” Shakespeare.

So hit the stage and sing it out and look the part! Good luck.

Fanque23; still truckin’ after all these years.

A family line-up last year:

995607_10153477534183538_7076463509754292383_n

 

 

 

Advertisements

 

55658729_10214098286546353_3366272637914316800_n

Can you find Aunt Donna in this picture with three smiling sons?

A bulletin board must catch the eye but be cerebral as well. They should take the person viewing them to a magical memory, a fascinating thought or place to rest. Film, pictures, paintings and people can be windows for our minds to pass through to find a whole new place to dwell as well. Aunt Donna was that window. She had the smile of an angel. Even today, her smile is my first recollection of her when she visited us on Long Island—her bending down to me with a smile so large and comforting. She wore bright red lipstick that her sparkling eyes nearly dulled from sight. I’d felt her presence immediately and noted that she was an adult who’d come to listen to my cause.  I may have been five when it occurred to me that Aunt Donna was an advocate for my life..

31262_397862009725_1354948_n

Always with the smile.( pay no attention to the ranger photo-bomb)

314

Aunt Donna fit like a flower.

28612_393891234725_3382824_n

She could spark up any picture…(look to the light on the far right:-)…)

Seldom within my view but never far from mind, this is how I shared my time with Aunt Donna. In all of my failings as a teenager, I never once felt let down by Aunt Donna. She was always busy about life; she was here and there and about so much it was hard to keep pace.  She was into Edgar Casey, her years in Kenya, Africa, her work at the Zoo in Asheboro N. C  and her update on politics and contact to our other world of spirits. She taught by example. She advocated for all Life, for all reason, compassion, understanding, promotion, and for loving and acceptance.  There’s no complete way to sum up her presence here, what she meant to those who knew her. I was so lucky to have her as my Aunt. I’d call her a miracle.15894934_10154868412969254_4751720165878425805_n

Aunt Donna loved Nature.

14877830_10210192834432915_1328104766_n

Aunt Donna loved to read.

299559_10150321840373198_52863910_n

And she was devoted to promoting our family bonds.

I’d been planning this year’s Spring bulletin board for over two years, but then something happened.  This spring had a knock of a different stroke. It was one I wished to never answer, but had to.

My Aunt Donna died this Spring. She was 95. If only I’d spent more time resting with Aunt Donna, hanging out, sharing ideas, our hopes and dreams. Not seeing my Aunt Donna often enough was a huge mistake and it was mine to make; a choice that didn’t seem like one over the course of my past so many years. I was busy, right? Thing is, our time is unknown, but people are here to get to know.

Maybe, most seasons roll off my back as tasks to do with the garden—when to uproot the old plants, turn over the soil, row the dirt and plant with mulching soon to follow. It’s an ongoing process and even the harvesting, preparing and storing can’t be left out. The birds sing as the hawks cry above the hooting of an owl. Clouds above flow by reminding me that the weather will change as life does, with no next-day ever promised.

So, as I worked on this year’s Spring display, a mysterious force, call it a familiar voice, took over me and notion-ed that the display should be somewhat mysterious, ethereal. I’d saved these reflective circular cut-outs for over two years…. then it all happened.  I fell into thinking about Aunt Donna and even wondered if she was watching this bulletin board take shape. I hoped it was true.IMG_1183

Something was missing. My mascot, of course. I’ve a squirrel mascot in every bulletin board. In a way, I guess  this squirrel is me, a question I ask by way of the animal….do you love me? Isn’t that the question we all ask everyday?

Love isn’t just the answer; it’s the question.  Guess who taught me that? Aunt Donna, of course. If only you could have known her. I’m so proud of Aunt Donna. I’ll miss her every day for the rest of my life.

(Click on  these last two for larger view)

The Disks of glitter hanging about are to resemble our universal connection to the ethereal. The reflective background is to bring us into Spring and deeper yet, into ourselves. Spring is about us. This one, for me, is about Aunt Donna, maybe forever.

I needed Spring to help me see it’s all in front of us…just as Aunt Donna said. She was bigger than life; maybe that’s how to say it. I just don’t know. Of course, I’ll never see Aunt Donna surrounded by her three sons again—that time is over. I’ll just find her in my heart. This has to be enough.

Franque23

 

 

 

 

 

p

 


My father loved flowers; I’ve never left his shade.

There’s so much to write about this week—it’s completely mind-blowing!!!! So rather than grouse about cover-up DOJ reports, constant injustices in our tax codes, rampant, illogical behavior by large groups of Americans, I thought taking a quick look at the ‘Spring’ in Life’s force might do us all wonders! Thanks to my good friend and editor of this glob for ten years-Barbara. ( She’s responsible for corrections; I get the credit for errors.)

Meanwhile, please take a moment to view the incredible strength of the living force we all belong to on our planet. Truly, life is a wonder.

Cheers, and happy Spring! Keep blooming!

Franque23


(please click the pic for a larger view)

Goldfinch are dazzling to the eye, a 1/2 oz blaze of chirping, yellow color in the male, soothing greenish beige in the female. How, ever in the name of sanity, do these birds, no more that seven inches long, make the trip from southern Canada to Mexico or South Florida and back each year?!?!? They just do; it’s a wonder.

It started at my feeders about two weeks ago, around March 1st, with one or two Goldfinch standing on  my sunflower feeder. They’ll eat sunflower seeds, along with a diet of various wildflower seeds and even tree sap for energy, but they vastly prefer the taste of thistle.

I quickly ran out and bought several hanging socks and put four of them up.

Boom! A flock started to arrive over the course of the next few days. At first, I had four, then twelve at one time. Now? I have eight sock feeders up and about 38 to count at a time feeding on them. I suspect we have about 60 goldfinch hanging around in our yard.

20190314_143907

( These are pineapple plants in the background.) Goldfinch make a most pleasant sounding, high-pitched racket as they rest in trees before making their approach to eat. And their presence often attracts other birds we rarely see….

This is a Red-Bellied Woodpecker. I’ve seen the Downy and the Pileated* woodpeckers for years, and when they hit the feeder it’s quite a mess with sunflower seeds flying every-which-way, but this is my first sighting of the Red-Bellied woodpecker…. here’s a clipped photo so you can see much better how the bird looks.

Recently, I’ve gone to buying large bags of thistle to re-fill the store bought thistle full hangers they sell for about 5 bucks each. A twenty dollar bag of thistle will re-fill about 15 hanging socks…so it’s quite a savings.  Of course, the Goldfinch hang around for only about three weeks tops on most occasions , then they are off headed south or back up north as they are now for summer in southern Canada or the northern U.S.  This means you have to time your purchases just right or it’s easy to get stuck with thistle. These birds most likely will not eat any saved, old thistle during their next flew-through. Goldfinch are picky; they like the thistle seeds to be fresh.

 

I sit and watch the carnival of Goldfinch feed most mornings while they’re here.  But this shot is also to picture a super African violet growing right now by the window… neat.

Another sighting of a Catahoula being hypnotized by the Goldfinch. These windows are Shadow’s ‘TV’ and he loves it when the finch come to town.

.

Shadow suffered  severe lacerations on his body on two occasions this year and both were at night in our fenced in yard. First, a foot long razor cut slit his chest through three layers of skin and then a longer, more severe laceration along his forehead and back the second time to the tune of 3200 dollars in vet bills-he’s lucky to have survived the second attack.

43788434_10216447410113398_5982761431827742720_n

I figured it was a large wild cat of some kind, and a similar attack happened to a larger dog living down the road from us two months ago. Both dogs were well confined inside fenced in yards and in each case the dogs did not even bark, but returned home with these massive injuries….the amazing night tripped photo below brings up another possibility.

Really? Just wow. I still lean to the large wild cat idea.

I’m thinking they’re about 18 finch in this picture.

It’s great to let go, relax, and watch these little birds bulk up for their up coming journey. At this point, the eight socks need to be re-filled every other day!!

Cheers from Spring in Florida, I hope. It can freeze even in April here in Northern Florida during some weird years. I think it was around 1980 when it snowed clear down to the Bahamas…so there’s that. I’m not looking that up, just winging the date from memory:-)

Franque23

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


(click the pic for a larger view)

Dogs are spirit given to our lives…. they know us, help us and protect us… There’s nothing like a dame was once a famous song…(Ha! Now-a-days it might get the deep six, thumbs down action I suspect)… Well yes, I say, there’s nothing like a woman, but there’s nothing like a dog as well:-) Not to equate the two!)

This is my dog, Shadow, smiling bright.

Try dog ownership if you haven’t; your heart-felt energy will enlarge and your life will be a richer experience. Although there are studies that find people who own and love dogs live longer, better, happier lives than those who don’t, there are also similar findings when people who associate with horses or pets of all kinds are compared to those who don’t.

My daughter on her horse, Toby.

Just a guess, but I’m thinking people who open themselves up to loving any or all kinds of life around them find fulfillment in their lives, while those who don’t short-change the scope and breadth of what their own lives might be.

I float better with Shadow in the pool…maybe.

34 “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another.” John 13: 3 (NIV)

It’s interesting that this idea be termed , ‘A new command,’ at the time of Jesus, as though the thought had never been expressed before.

The American Zen teacher John Daido Loori shows us that Zen practice should include not only meditation, the study of Zen literature and liturgy, and moral and ethical action, but should also manifest in work, artistic, and everyday activities….

Basically, you could pick any major religion throughout the world and find the same advice: love one another. But, to expand this thought, Jesus never said it’s okay to kick the dog as you’re busy loving people. No, everyone and everything is included in, “Love one another…” Of course, Native Americans understood that all of creation is sacred.

What about wars? Wars happen; people are far from perfect.

Empathy is a one to one ratio. The more we notice the life around us and it’s living condition, the more empathy we feel. Turning a blind eye to the suffering of our human condition and our Earth’s situation does nothing but blind us. None of us can solve the world’s problems alone, but the pebble thrown into a lake analogy certainly applies. Every good or bad action we do is that pebble, and the ripples that spread out from its splash may reach shorelines, people and places, we can’t even see as we throw that little stone.

My advice? Be kind to yourself: be as good a person as you can be. If you do this, you will sleep easier at night. I’m thinking if we do manage to strive to do our best (hey-I think that’s a Boy Scout motto?) then we are less inclined to worry about the future. That future will come as it may but when it does we will know we’ve done our best. No worries; you’ve done everything you could’ve to improve life.

Take that leap of faith in love.

Alfred E Neuman: what me worry? I loved Mad magazine as a boy (like now) and my Southern Baptist upbringing aligned my understanding of these words with the church teachings to not worry. Thing is, in truth, the history of Alfred E Neuman’s face and its historical meaning  is something different altogether. In fact, Neuman’s face has been used at least since 1883…and to sell mince Plum pudding.

And, later on…

Worse, another version of Alfred E Neuman’s face was used by the Germans during world War II and captioned, “Kill the Jews.” Honest. (Not the picture above.)

So, my interpretation of Neuman’s, ‘What me worry,’ illustrates how what we think about things is related to our preconceived notions, and those notions are usually based upon what we’ve been taught to think. Self realization derived from observation and deduction is a bit skewed now in the human experience. We are taught to be who we think we are. Often, this is not the case at all.  Most often, we are people just like most, people with needs, wants, hopes, dreams and empathy but we’ve been subtly taught to turn off this understanding. We’ve been encouraged to turn a blind eye to the condition of humanity and our earth.

It’s time to turn ourselves back on.

It’s time to be joyful.

My sister, Sharon Franquemont, published a book, “You Already know What To Do.” * This book, published in nine languages throughout the world, makes many points but my favorite is the concept that intuition should be taught in schools as a subject. This way, we might help our children get in touch with themselves, their inner sense of life’s order and magnitude, and how their lives relate to all growth. The world would be a better place if society expressed a true interest in our inner selves and how that inner self relates to the world around us. Point: Dogs help people do this.

Having a dog, or any pet, helps us express love for something other than ourselves and, in turn, that pet loves us back. This way, people learn how love flows from us and back to us. We learn how good this exchange of love feels. Soon, and not depending on the amount of LSD or pot you’ve smoked in the 70’s, the notion that loving the people, the animals , the trees or even the rocks we pass returns love to us becomes less remote and, in fact, a real life experience.

securedownload-511

Let’s put a bow on this. Yes, try loving your neighbor, but it might be mastering that process is easier done if you start with loving a doggie, or pet of any kind…. good luck.

Cheers, and I hope the ripples from my pebble reach you at a most fortuitous time and in the best of light. Namaste; to your light.

Franque23

 

*https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/0874779464/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0


(Click the pic for a larger view…)

Hi, Shadow’s here to help me tell you about my year gardening since August 2018

It’s one thing to plant citrus and a garden on your property; it’s another to harvest. Of course, I love it all—I love to be in touch with the changing seasons, the sun angle, the forecast and amount of rainfall. Yep, I love it all. Why? I can’t exactly say. It’s work, that’s for sure. The ins and outs of gardening and growing fruit trees takes time, attention and execution at the right time. These are things that don’t wait for me to be ready but, rather, they have ways of telling me when they are. A farmer has to ,’snap-to,’ when it comes to planting and harvest time.

Case in point, this first picture above. Thing is, it was a mild winter, but one day they put out a 28 degree forecast for extended hours(never came to be at all) So, I raced out after work (I work til about 9:15 PM)with flashlight held in my mouth as I picked a hundred plus tomatoes before they froze. I also picked the lemons, large and small, eggplant, sage and basil….it was a hard night that ended about at midnight. I put these green ones into large super market brown paper bags, about twenty or so in each, and they ripen in them….Some will rot, but if you check every few days and pull out the ripening ones to put on a counter, you’ll get most of them ripe.

But that wasn’t the start of the season, a planting that was made in mid August.

I got a soft(small) crop of bush green beans this fall(why? When I’ve yielded twenty-three pounds recently-that’s farming) but the foot long Asian beans took off. Cheers for my one yellow squash! This was around Oct, 2018

 

The tomatoes starting coming in as well

I started an outside fence line of marigolds early on,,,and they might be part of the reason my tomato plants ended up nine feet tall with up to 25 tomatoes on them per bush in January..I’m not sure,, it may have been more due to this year’s endless growing season.

About this season…from August 2018 until now, Feb. 2019…I’ve never seen anything like it…The garden is still producing lettuce, collard greens, kale , and eggplant and a tomato or three here and there.

BTW– have you ever looked at an eggplant flower? Here’s one. I say hello.

Another gift of the weather is a robust growing season for the pineapples,,,.. I’ve about 40 plants growing here and there around the property,, and all from cutting off the tops of one’s I bought, or from a box full from Ward’s who gave me their top cutting on the day they cored their selection of pineapples for the public (you can call them to find out when they might have a box of cut-off tops)….do it.

To a great satisfaction, the pineapples may have done well so far this winter. They take two years to fruit, so getting thru a winter is a must for them… BTW– if you have never eaten a hand-picked ripe pineapple that’s truly golden  deep yellow, you’ve never really tasted one. That’s another thing that gardeners get back: the taste of fresh food ,, like the taste of food picked that day or a couple of days before eating is AMAZING…..much different than even from most farmer’s markets….

and oh, the Camellias—how wonderful. We’ve red and white. We need a blue, right?

Herbs are easy to grow, and don’t take much space. Pots on balconies work well, even. I do use mine fresh-that’s best, but you can dry them on tin foil in the sun to keep year round… just get them totally dried, and crunch them up into old spice bottles..so far, after several years, I haven’t had a problem with this method.

(Basil and a bit of Thyme)

Shadow follows me everywhere I go during the year,, whether I’m working the soil, picking oranges, or smelling flowers.. he is my, Shadow! How could I be so lucky to have gotten him?

Of course, when I read how much nutrients levels drop off from food so many days out of picking, or read about roundup being in our food chain, or any other added chemicals, it spurs me on to get the soil ready without chemical to plant, and then harvest. All of us in Florida, at least, should have a range of food planted around their dwellings—it really doesn’t take much space; just work, patients and some hand done bug squashing.

There’s nothing like listening to the birds chatter as hawks cry from above while being out there working the soil.

Greening is a major problem throughout much of the world now for citrus, and my small 2 acres or less is no exception.*  This means more work for me, and not only in that about 500 hundred citrus won’t ripen this year, but guess who has to pick up all that fruit off the ground? Oh yeah, full-time job now. What had been a 1500 piece citrus crop two years ago is now about 1000, and it will only get worse until the trees only bear blooms(which are heavenly) and sour fruit. But this is what it is.

I bring fruit to work for my workmates several times per week, Nov 1st thru about March 1st;…My grandchildren and their parents get more than they can eat, I think.  My neighbors all get fruit and my doctors do as well! Even my Tax guy gets some:-)  The mail guys and garbage technicians do as well….this makes it all worth the effort.

Lately, I’ve been thinking of planting a pecan tree…seems reasonable. Yes, there are blue berries and pears and apples as an option but, so far, I’ve found the squirrels like those options as well…and they clean out the pickin’s on them.

We recently put in Avocados and have two papayas growing that I hope make it.

Go ahead,,, look into planting this spring. Write me, if you like. Growth is a miracle; join in the effort.

Cheers, and keep growing.

Franque23

 

see you later…

*https://www.orlandoweekly.com/Blogs/archives/2016/10/12/citrus-production-continues-to-decline-in-florida


I’d split from work ready to let loose and let my freak flag fly! I’d a foxy old lady hanging at home; it was gonna be a gas(we’re pretty old…). I was sure she’d give me some skin. Can you dig it? Far out.

I’m not sure many of you know the phrase: “A spankin’ good time!” Yep, we used to say it and mean it in a fun way. So much has changed now-a-days, but this here tickle monster rumbles on!

I got home late last night after work to find my five grandsons sleeping over. You know what this meant! It was,’spanking time,’ for everyone! The mad scramble to escape ensued. I’m usually a tickle monster like my dad had been as I grew up, but, no, tonight these good kids needed the spankin’ of their lives to control the silence!!!

“Ah-run for your lives!” I heard their attack call loud and clear.

I saw their strategy immediately. They decided to form one huge pile of boys whereby only one would be left on top to get a pop on the butt! Even Shadow realized he’d better get in that pile, pronto!

It was an out of control battle, perfect for bedtime calm down moments—the kind my wife loves me to start. She doesn’t have to tell me this, I just know by using my secret, ‘Manly,’ instincts. Once she has read to the boys, snuggled them down to soft thoughts and music, it’s time for me to start an all-out rumble!!! Butt why does she always yell, “I’m calling a lawyer! I’m calling a lawyer!!”, at times like this?  Ha! That’s a funny thing to say, don’t you think? I never understand how this fits in to a rumble but as I always say, “To Each their own.”

Anyway…

I roared, I blew air out of my nostrils-that was horrible to do during pollen season-I approached with hands clapping with delight!

“But honey,” my wife explained,” They’ve been good all night!”

“Ha, ahaha, ah,,,,” Said the mean ol’ man, me, “All the more reason for the spankin!” (This is the best way to teach logic 101. I bet they do well in the subject).

More wiggling and screaming went on…butt not a one would get away from the tickle monster now gone raving, spankin’ mad!

At last, it ended as I knew it would from the ,’Daddy’s home,’ get-go. Arron, the youngest, known as the, ‘Padded one,’ was to be sacrificed. Bottom’s up!

Of course, this could only mean one thing of many. The fun-time rumble was over and now it was time to brush our teeth and begin the get-under-the-blanket wiggles, to begin the, no, don’t go into the kitchen, no, get off the floor, no, we aren’t watching t.v., no, we can’t go out, nope, this is not a time to draw!, we’re done eating—we’re completely done with food of any kind!  Yep, a new phase was upon us, the who’s sleeping where, in what room, on the floor or bed and with which brother or two ordeal of an hour longer had begun!

Then something happened…Me, as the last man standing as my wife snuggled on the couch, the house got spooky quiet. The quiet aliens had landed, slithered in the house and stolen all sound. The silence was loud, or maybe my ears were still ringing, yes, that was it. But none of that explained the aliens. I thought of waking my wife to consult about the quiet but I preferred to live.

The night had ended…sob.

Somehow, with the help of beer(s), I forgot about the aliens and went to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to two-year old, Aaron, standing in my doorway. “Goo morrring,” he beamed a smile.

The breakfast was basically the sound of morning children-birds who’d become a herd of munching faces. A pound of bacon, a dozen eggs and quart of home squeezed OJ consumed and heck, look!, we had room in our frig!?!?!

Then, the children went home; the sky cleared. I looked to my faithful buddy, Shadow, as he rested by the window, peacefully collecting himself after being roughed up the previous day  by the Bell gang of five. I looked at him lovingly; he looked at me.

I held up my arms and proclaimed it: ” It’s time for…..a doggie spanking!!!!”

“Wait! Did you say, “Doggie spanking?”

Cheers….nothin’ like having a, ‘spankin’ good time!’Please send any complaints about spanking to Santa Claus—but don’t mention my name.  I’m still waiting on the Lamborghini. Thanks.

Franque23

 

 

 

 


Sometimes, we might hear an idea and it just feels right.  We might go to a place, see a work of art, listen to music or experience a thought and our gut cries out for joy.  We’ve all had these moments and they always feel good; refreshing.

(This was done by my Niece, Megan Carlock. I used this as the background to the cover of my first book on kindle, Avatar Magic. Why? It feels right.)

Thing is, it’s not every day that we have these types of experiences; we don’t feel good every day, but could we?

Those who meditate often express a profound sense of peace when they do. But through many years now, only once did I ever meditate and feel a rod of energy sink from my stomach through my sitting butt while also stretching thru my head up beyond the sun and stars until my mind remained suspended in speeding air full of white clouds. It was  miraculous! Seven hours slipped by as though it were a minute. The last I remembered before awakening was the sun had warmed my face, the hard ground I sat upon softened, the wind blew and the waves were lapping the shore before me. I’d done it!

I stood up after that moment of seven hours keenly aware that I’d just experienced the most amazing moment of my life. So, did I go on to meditate daily, or most often? Of course not!  No. Not at all!

I went on to play music surrounded by clouds of pot smoke, to eat gobs of ice cream, cakes, candies, to slurp down drinks, step in dog poop, to laugh my ass off regularly with friends, to sit in ant piles, to become a man, have jobs, raise a family and be a dad, to hit my fingers with hammers, and, more importantly, seldom , if ever, did I mention my, ‘meditation moment.’ It’s interesting what can get left behind during the consumption of half gallons of ice cream and a busy life of waiting in lines, seeing doctors and having traffic accidents.

.

So what?  Sure, I need new flip-flops, but what does any of this mean now? It’s all about grounding, a sphere of thought perhaps old- hat to many but new to me. See, in 1960 sneaker manufacturers started using synthetic rubber souls in a major way* and people were no longer,’grounded,’ to the earth as they walked as zombies through life. Maybe if I hadn’t read Wilhelm Reich’s** theory of, Orgone, in my mid-twenties I’d not be so keen on this theory of grounding now-I don’t know. Thing is, it’s a fact that Wilhelm Reich studies of the life force fields that surround our bodies and travel throughout our atmosphere and the entire universe were Earth shaking rattling! His ideas were so novel when compared to our basic understandings of life that the results of his work and his findings were sealed for 100 years! Let’s face it, the man was so threatening, especially his ability to make it rain which annoyed more than few neighbors, that he was jailed.

Then again, there’s this: so many say they don’t sleep well, or don’t  eat well, or have no energy during the day, or just can’t seem to focus, to thrive, to survive our environment’s one zillion pollutants or put up with so many different kinds of joint pains or people like me that it just might be there is one or a few underlining causes for all of our chronic conditions. Curious.

Could  what we wear on our feet or the asphalt we often walk on keep our bodies from experiencing the recharging effect the universes’ flowing electricity could give us on a daily basis? Are we short circuited from the recharging, magnetic flow of the earth’s electricity simply by what we wear on our feet? There are reports from studies that show merely walking barefoot for as little as one half an hour per day might alleviate many chronic symptoms so many people live through today.  Like that special place, special tune, the face you love, this idea feels right, and a bit like coming home after a long day at the office.

I used to run barefoot through the clover in the grass as a child.  Looking back, that all seemed to be about bee stings. Maybe, though, that was about one of the best things? My mom would ask as she dressed the sting, “Why do you run barefoot through the grass?”

All I could say is, “It feels right.”

Children say the darnedest( or darndest) things, but what do they know?

Here’s a link to an article about being grounded, the studies, and hypothesis.

*https://www.collective-evolution.com/2017/08/24/studies-show-what-happens-to-the-human-body-when-we-walk-barefoot-on-earth/

Cheers

Franque23

** Read about Wilhelm Reich,,,https://www.famousphilosophers.org/wilhelm-reich/

bye for now. ( View from our lake house in the Adirondacks.)

 


I’d found this note in a most unusual place.

Dusty and draped by a cobweb or two, the note obviously hadn’t been read in some time. How long would that be? We’d moved into our house over eighteen years ago and others had enjoyed the house before us-how could it have been in place for so long without being noticed? I think it all a miracle!

It wasn’t even a full piece of paper but just a part of a larger whole. Folded, yellowed and without line, it seemed marked, creased on its outside, by someones’ firm handwriting.

There was no reason to not unfold the paper and read the note; curiosity would clutter my head until I did-I knew. Scanning the words gave me pause.

I fell in love with you at first sight. I knew it then. Nothing was going to keep me from being at your door until you opened it so I might stand by your side. Our faces remained lip-locked for most of that first year, and when we laughed we could feel each others warm breath.

We had no guarantees but for us. Still, that was enough. 

We began our journey into space without boundaries and time no clock could keep. We held hands in super markets-remember? We both loved the beach, the waves, sky and wind in our hair. We ran for miles together almost daily without fail; so much young energy poured from our souls, tingled our fingers and itched our legs that we just had to move. And, all the while, a love for you grew inside me that could never be moved.

You became my home.

Nothing much mattered when it came to things, whether we rented or eventually bought a house remained trappings to the core of us that I held on to so tightly. That soft, core place of love within me burned a fire that warmed each day and night. I worked with you in mind and slept easy with you by my side. 

Years, so many, have passed, and though we’ll eventually leave here and find a new place I wanted to take this moment to thank you for being you. I want to thank you for those smiles you flash, that small laugh you often sport, for that all-seeing way you guide us to better places, and for your touch that means so much. And, I should mention the chocolate-chip cookies. 

I’m so glad I wrote you this note; now, if I can just keep track of it until I give it to you!

There was no signature…

I marveled at the words in this note. Who knows how many years it took this person to finally write them down? Had the other person ever read them? It’s amazing how something this large in meaning might rest for so long inside a person. So much can be buried beneath a life-time of obligation, jobs, bills, some call it progress, beneath all those words that must be said on a daily basis. It seemed I understood it all; life has a way of moving people around their true meaning, the things that really drive them on.

I turned to bring this found treasure to share with my wife but realized that, of course, she was in Japan-a zillion miles away helping and visiting family. I had just me, my dog, and this note.  I began to fold the note for safe keeping to share later but the note had vanished! I looked everywhere! It hadn’t fallen to the floor, slid under the kitchen table or scooted under a nearby tattered chair. No, the note had disappeared.

That’s when I found the note in a most unusual place: the one place I hadn’t thought to look.

Of course, the note was back deep inside of me.

Dale, I’ve loved you for forty-five years.

Happy New Year to all of you. Maybe, write a note this New Year’s Day, and never put it away.

Peace and Love

Franque23

 

 

 

 


Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays…this is my seasonal bulletin board and seasonal card to you!

I remember too well the moment I entered my parents Christmas party to sing, Jingle Balls, Jingle balls, to a fit of laughing cocktail holding adults. This was to be my big debut (but why is this spelled like what it was for me?) Anyway, I was too young to take anything to heart, and I left knowing I sang the heck out of that song.

There were so many warm Christmas mornings at the Franquemont household on Long Island. I never lacked for anything; my eyes only looked out with hope, curiosity and with acceptance that I was given by my parents and siblings.  It was an easy breezy life as I ran down the stairs first in line ahead of my brother and sister to race to a present laden Christmas tree. Blocks, coloring books and rocket launchers were the stuff of Christmas. The stockings were stuffed with candy but for that one stupid apple Mom always put in the bottom. Then, I never understood that Mom had been raised on her father’s mission in Recife, Brazil,  and an apple was a treasure to hoard for her. Of course, I’d give anything to find an apple put there by Mom in my stocking now, but she is seven years gone. She’s a smile in the clouds, the rolling waves at any beach, the diamond stars up north at Lake Bonaparte on a clear, crisp night and the warmth of the beach sand that conforms to my body as seagulls call from above. She is so much of every Christmas.

I remember Dad torturing me by making my ten-year old hands shovel three feet deep to start a new garden. It seemed so wrong to be digging around Christmas, but now I’ve had gardens here in Florida for the past 40 years. And when I dig dad’s eyes are looking through mine and his voice rings my ears with, “That a boy.” I hear the eagle call from high above and I know he is there gliding, swooping, free.

Part of getting older is hording a ton of memories. Thoughts of years gone by and the people who stayed with them and left as well are a treasure chest buried deep within, one locked for safety by the heart. I’ve still journeys ahead, and so many behind. I’d like to think that I’ve grown wiser with the passing years–certainly I know Jingle Bells now. But, for whatever reason this Christmas day, I found myself walking through our garden and thinking about all the division the world over is experiencing today.

It may surprise you to know that I am several things beyond a library worker, a neighbor, a father, grandfather,gardener, writer of this glob and books on Kindle,a fisherman, builder, but also a minister who was lucky enough to perform the marriage of my niece.  I have a favorite passage in the Bible I try to follow,

Proverbs 3:6 Living Bible (TLB)

In everything you do, put God first, and he will direct you and crown your efforts with success.

If all of humanity were to take this message to heart the world would change. I’m certain it is in every  kind religious teachings; if only we could listen. I try to never forget these words as I thank God for every little thing I take time to notice as I go about my day.* Of course, I’ve fallen as short of this instruction as any could many times, but I try.

So this Christmas, the fertile garden, Mom’s gentle smile and Father’s certain voice led me to consider what my personal message might be this Christmas.

Here it is:

Being whatever gender or preference you are is a part of the natural passage of humans throughout our existence. We need to stop this fight of exclusion. This is Christmas, and it’s a great time for everyone to come to this realization. The stars remind us that the light is within us-if we’d only let it shine. Acceptance feels good; expressing hate or rejection is bad for the soul. We need to let people be.

Sometimes I think the worst word in our language is, ‘No.’ Using no is quick and sometimes needed, but often it is used when taking the time to teach proactively why whatever is being asked or done is not a good idea would otherwise move the mind forward. The best word in our language is, ‘Yes.’ I’m going to try to use it more in 2019. I hope you join me. Cast aside hate. Raise hope and acceptance.

Cheers… hugs, and Merry Christmas!

Franque23

  • I most concur with the, ‘God however known,’ concept.

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

August 2019
M T W T F S S
« Jul    
 1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
262728293031  

Categories

Advertisements