When you analyse your own dreams in order to see the reflection of your psychical condition and of your entire life, you enter into contact with the wise unconscious mind - the mind that produces your dreams and regulates the functioning of your body. The unconscious is perfect and knows everything about you, your past, your traumas, plans, dreams, and your future.

You are going to be guided in your dreams and learn how to develop your intelligence. This is an experience completely different from the experience of going to a psychotherapist, but it has the same or even better results, because your doctor is the wise unconscious mind whose wisdom is beyond any doubt. This is the part of the human psyche which is responsible for the existence of religiosity, as well as artistic and philosophical manifestations.

Dream therapy is the most inexpensive existing psychotherapy - you only need a guide in order to learn how to interpret your dreams according to the absolutely unique and correct scientific method for life.

Having in hand this guide, you'll be in contact with the wise unconscious mind that produces your dreams, which will not only help you in every way, but will answer all your questions. The fantastic communication that you can have with this part of your psyche is a comfort that you have never imagined before!

The unconscious mind is saintly and speaks like an angel. When you ask it if you will succeed in your plans, for example, the unconscious will tell you, through a personalisation in your dream, that you must forgive sinners.

What does it mean? It means that you'll have many obstacles, provoked by your enemies.

Or, you may receive a pleasant answer when you ask this question; seeing bright sunlight in your dream, for example, represents the light of truth.

You'll be immensely helped by this knowledge! A common psychologist cannot give you this guidance.

You will only gain advantages using this method of psychotherapy, instead of trusting a common, ignorant human psychologist, who may have the good intention to help you, but will not be able to.

The guarantee that the scientific method of dream interpretation can give you, cannot be given by any other method of therapy, since this method enlightens your mind, develops your intelligence, and makes you wiser.

When you examine your dream messages you never have frustrations, you never feel you are wasting your time, and you never become confused and feeling worse than before. This is a safe method that can only give you peace of mind and health, without the risks of methods based on human ignorance.

Prevent Depression and Craziness through the scientific method of Dream Interpretation discovered by Carl Jung and simplified by Christina Sponias, a writer who continued Jung's research in the unknown region of the human psychic sphere.

Learn more at: http://www.scientificdreaminterpretation.com and http://www.booksirecommend.com

Click below to download your copy of the Free ebook
Beating Depression and Craziness

Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/?expert=Christina_Sponias

Have you submitted Your own dreams for Free professional dream translation?

Don’t waste time!

Go to http://www.scientificdreaminterpretation.com now and learn more!

The clearest New Testament outline of this cure of the sickness of religion is to be found in St. Paul 1 Cor. 12-15:11. Here we have the key to his epistles which become clear only within this context. St. Paul was a Pharisee who stemmed from the same tradition as the Hasidim whereas Christ and His apostles evidently belonged to a parallel tradition with the same Old Testament foundations which makes the New Testament intelligible.

If you've got time, and you're willing to go very deep... read Fr John.

But all of the things of which I've read in old romances have happened to me in meetings and partings with men who had no claim on me nor I on them. When I read, as a girl, of people wasting away for love, I never believed it. Yet when I was twenty, three days after parting with the man who didn't love me, I rose up from my couch and found all my ribs cowering, exposed, under my gaze. I'd lost twenty pounds. Those were dark days and it is partly due to them that I finally decided to marry the man who would heal me rather than waiting for the man who would excite me. I don't regret my choice, the more so since the man who is healing me has also proven to be the man who leads me to God and His Church.

This past weekend I experienced something that I hardly know how to understand except in terms of courtly love; or better, of gallantry such as I had thought obsolete. Not all that goes on between men and women can be named in terms of animal desire. Not all that is sexual has to do with sex.

But still, how did I come to learn of this - how me? How did it come about that three modern men could sit sighing around a modern girl, pressing their hearts with their hands, playing the guitar for her by turn, calling her endearing names, refraining from rough language and modern liberties of behavior, waiting on her, asking her to sing, and seizing her hands, weeping, when she did? Was it really me, who was never counted skilled in music, never courted by anyone but my husband, never pursued or sought out in any of my native circles?

How did I spend five hours in the guise of a lady? I have been many other persons - arrogant little girl, awkward and despised teenager, dependable big sister, depressed college student, grateful wife, weary Mama, aspiring writer, and always so much, so very much less than I wanted to be. How did it come about that one enchanted night, the night of my bosom friend's wedding, I found myself surrounded by a few eccentric and very real men who made me feel adorable in some sense that has far more to do with what I share of feminine nature than with my dubious personal accomplishments?

Begone, bourgeois hopes. I will not seek to be commended to God or man by any of your measures. Something will crown me that is not mere achievement. I do not know what. But I don't think that what happened last weekend was meant to leave me in my erstwhile course of individual, sexless, lonely ambition.

I type this as I procrastinate packing to get out of town this weekend, while I wish we were already gone, while I wish my stepson was already gone, while I just wish. Sometimes wishing feels pointless but I have wishes anyway because there's always the hope that things will pan out.

I had an odd conversation via text today with a friend - he's given up hope on his current relationship, and to be honest, I am in the position of trying to be supportive but almost standoffish because he's the type of guy prone to reminiscing about the good old days (which weren't always good, as Billy Joel said), and prone to getting his head in the clouds about shit that he can't have. It's a tough position to be in, supporting someone at arm's length, but I do it because I need to keep distance and I do it because I don't know how to turn away from people who need me. Which sucks. Sometimes I want nothing more than to turn away and can't. Sometimes it's not so bad feeling needed, but then I quickly get overwhelmed with it. I don't do "needy" well.

In the midst of all that hoo-ha, my husband was acting like a prick, I had a funeral to go to, my daughter had to go to the doctor for a mosquito bite that had swollen to the size of her ankle bone, and my stepson and my oldest kid both had friends over which meant that there were too many fucking kids in my house. It was a mad house, but I could tolerate the little things. The funeral was almost a respite from the chaos in the house - I deftly avoided my white trash mother- and father-in-law, I didn't vomit from the fumes of Aqua Net oozing off the woman sitting next to me, and I didn't tell the man in front of me that deoderant is a fantastic invention and that if he tried some he wouldn't smell like ass.

The hardest part of all that was my husband's mood which has taken me all day to sort out. He went out with friends last night (for the plus column, getting to be social with friends with no complaints from me), he got to sleep in this morning (another plus), I did the run to the doctor's office (plus), the youngest went down for her  nap easily without giving him drama (BIG plus). Yet, he was just radiating this pissed-offness (not a word, but you'll get over it) and I was walking in wide circles to avoid him. What the hell? We hadn't fought, there wasn't anything bubbling beneath the surface, and he'd been fine up until now.

Oh. That's it. And it hit me like a ton of bricks when I was talking to my mom. My stepson came over last Friday for the week, but he'd been at a friend's house for the past several nights - it was my stepson coming home that tipped my husband's mood into the negative zone - and it's not the first time that's happened. I noticed it Sunday afternoon too. His son had gone to watch a  movie with his friend - my husband was pissy before then and after then, but not during. Hm.

My husband gets very upset that I don't totally love his son's presence - and it's not that I'm the wicked witch or evil stepmother. It's just that my stepson is a special needs kid with lots of issues, and requires an eagle eye trained on him at all times - and honestly, it's wearing. Despite anything he might say, it's wearing on my husband too. He'll never admit it - I'm sure he feels guilty about it, but it's like this house has two distinct auras - when he's here and when he's not. It was like a gray cloud hovering over head all day. It's hard to take. It's hard to know what to do.

I hope that this weekend recharges us. My stepson goes home to his mother bright and early, my girls will go get spoiled by my mom for a few days - and my husband and I will be sans kids for two nights and THREE FULL days. Holy shit, right? The mood is pretty heavy in my house right now - so if this lifts it at all, it would be so worth it.

Place i've been but shall not return to

This is the first time I'm gonna admit this,

Too vex to sing, so I'm gonna spit this

Ive let myself slip, be disrespected, in the name of love... love what! love ain't this.

Yet still i cant shift, I love him...i hate this!

Why i am i here with myself tryna reason, when i know i have really got to leave him.

Its not I'm scared to be on my own, its just I'm scared of letting go.

He may change, i don't know.

We live separate lives and seem to only share the painful side,

The arguments, the tears, the fights, the fights and the fights,

We don't chill no more, we barely kiss and we hardly talk.

We used to make love all day, sleep, wake, make love all day,

We shared secrets, talked nights away, spoke of marriage and how are kids would be.

How did we get here it doesn't make sense, from so deep in love to so distant..

( Get a grip )

Is Lets face it, this is hopeless.

I need to regain my focus.

I've been so caught up in making sure your cosha, i neglected my own needs and watch that women i said I'd never be, become the reflection of me.

You stand here talking about happy days, how we used to be backer day..

Yo all those smiles in the picture frames were fake, cause all that remains in my mind, are the constant times i used to cry, from the pain of being torn inside.

How you'd stupidly proceed as I'd stupidly compete with those dirty loose women that you'd put before me.

Yep sweet memories, like the time you bought me shades to cover up my blackened eyes, the threats you made to keep me by your side and the countless times id protect with my lies.

I recall the time you told me i was beautiful and in the same sentence said i would nothing without you..

Its amazing what reflecting on a situation can do..

This ain't the place for me, i have to cut loose

You made one to many wrong moves.

Now you loose and see who needs who.

Samantha

There is no doubt that in his own country, their family, their own culture, the first traitor and the most similar welcome from the people, because of his defiance of conventional words and deeds, hacked the World Customs panic, all stick to the traditional, conservative People feel the world is approaching the end, all the careful Contentment Gou of the people Danchanxinjing. Therefore, the traitor has become rotten to the core of the first, the target of public criticism. Rentier succession of generations, are Deshi power and the power, diverse enough to live comfortably, preaching, to his statement of interest to him Wishing official closure, and then to his abusive, he framed, shot him……

Therefore, treason life is likely to be short-lived; traitor could easily be tried and slander, was on fire, was shot dead, or were deported to remote, exotic.

However, the traitor is always difficult to change their character, they are inherently "anti-bone". they have been sucking their host of that society, that culture, that class of "milk". He wrote. "This kind of fighter," perhaps the real treason is life: He walked into nothing of the RUF, in the face of all kinds of nod,a variety of weapons, has unwaveringly He also encountered a variety of Kind of figures and all sorts of tricks, philanthropists, scholars and scribes, the elderly, youth,gentlemen, science, ethics, public opinion, national essence, logic, justice, Eastern civilization…"but he still As always, the vote raised sharp gun…… This is the traitor's life. Foresight, burdened by heavy responsibility, lonely stubborn, more than fighting.

However, not all of the times require treason life. In particular, is a happy mediocrity of the times, people have to get their point bounty complacent, they do not like to hear the thunderous sky, Swallow's call, and willing to Chanmian melodious immersed in the Serenade, to enjoy the narrow space of Mai Mai and the warmth and quiet. At this time, there is a traitor sound of police vehicles. Of course, maybe I would like to wrong. At this time, more needs traitor fell Zhenbi a call. History, who can predict?

...when Billy says "T.W.", he's speaking to my granddad (He actually called him "T").

I adored my grandfather.

He used to say, "You know, Angie, you're my first love..."

I miss him terribly...

Peace.

Have you seen my kid's artwork? If not then take a visit to the artwork page that I have placed on this blog. I really do not have any problems getting my kid to work on one of the things that she likes most - drawing, but I have problems getting her interested in other areas.

I decided to find out how I can put her interest into schoolwork that she likes least. I realized that some of these practices are the ones that I've been doing to her all along:

1. Keep study time away from distractions. Contrary to what my mother believe, TV sets, videos, computer and even seeing other kids playing keeps the child from absorbing information. It is better to have her in a quiet place - maybe a place in the bedroom or a corner rather than having the distractions all around.
2. Schedule study time. Just like other commitments a specific study time is a must. My kid adapts well to a fixed study time: I find it easier for me to get her to study that way rather than getting flexi-time schedules. As an added benefit, fixed study time reinforces discipline.
3. Get her to write a schedule - of course it is better to do a schedule with the help of a parent.
4. Help the child on homework as much as you can. My kid appreciates when she got a companion to the homework. Treat this as a special bonding time with the kid.
5. Get things organized. Keeping an organized workplace instills discipline in the child, and it is important to do this after a study session.

There can be other effective ways too, but this list is the ones that I find most effective in instilling effective study habits of my child.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question...
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair -
(They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin -
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all -
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all -
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all -
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet - and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all" -
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all."
That is not it, at all.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor -
And this, and so much more? -
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous -
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old ... I grow old...
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

YESSSSSSSS.  the day we celebrate the birth of this oh-so-special dog! so, here are some of cody's moments on film.  i have always felt, as great as cody bear's photos are, they don't BEGIN to communicate his unbelievable lovableness!

so, imagine these pictures times 1000!

him napping at about 4 months old:

when my mom saw that shot she said, "ohhh, my little cinnamon bun!"

cody bear recently, on his morning chicken run....

his favorite activity is running very, very fast....

one of his less brilliant moments...

doesn't he look peeved?

as you have all learned, he loves having his photo taken....

and he loves playing....

at nine weeks he weighed nine pounds.  he was a shelter puppy....

so, let's review: i love love LOVE this dog.  he is cute, intellegent, cuddly, protective, well-behaved, loves people, silly, fun, inquisitive, determined, playful, comforting, expressive and engaging.

and did i impart to you that i love him?  cuz i do.

I grew up in a way that I spent a lot of time alone or around people that really could have cared less about my best interest. All of the experiences that I have had throughout my life has really made me appreciate the true friends that I have now. I think that friendship is one thing that most people take for granted. Relationships are work regardless of they type of relationship it is. Sometimes getting to know and understand all of your girlfriends may take some time and effort. Women are finicky and sensitive, but a good friend will always be aware of the things that affect her... in a good or bad way.

You should always treat people the way that you want to be treated but with friends you have to take it a step further. For me it has always been the little things that matter so much... the random calls to say I love you, the girls nights out where there is no cattiness or drama, the honest shopping ventures when they say "oh no hunny!", lol but mostly the fact that they let me be who I am and love me unconditionally regardless of my crazy life. I have always said I am who I am and I refuse to change for anyone but me and they accept me for me as I accept them for who they are and love them regardless of their most major flaw.

It seems that people really don't understand the term unconditional love. Most people have some type of standard or criteria that you have to meet before you're "in". I don't know about you but I have never been good a being able to keep up with who I "should be" from one person to the next so I just stay true to form. Unconditional is defined as follows: Without conditions or limitations; absolute. Just the word "absolute" sums it up for me cause when it comes to people that I love that's exactly how I feel. I would gladly step in front of a bullet if it meant saving them or sacrificing something that I want just to make them a little happier, it's worth it to me!

In closing, it may be because I am a Scorpio, but I am very supportive and am even more protective of people hold close to my heart! Real friends are few and far between so cherish them like they are a part of you. To my friends, thank you... because of you I'm such a lucky girl and to you I say this...

Hate you... Let 'em! Hurt you... They can't! Try to... I wish they would! Love you... I do! Be you... They wish! Envy you... They should! Defend you... I would!

Friendship is more than a word... it's a commitment.

LOVE YOU AGAIN

I was speedin’ through the dark
I didn’t know how far
It can all run away with you sometimes
In an empty box car
You were trying to tell me something
I wasn’t listening to you
There was nothin’ but confusion
Everytime that train come blowin’ through
Then you wrote me in a letter
I don’t know how your courage came
You told me what you wanted
Every word in tears and pain
How you loved me more than ever
In spite of all the hurt inside
And it cracked my heart wide open
‘till there was no place left to hide

And I want to thank you babe
For lettin’ me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again
I want to thank you baby
For lettin’ me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again

I’ve forgotten how to be patient
I’ve forgotten how to caress
I’ve forgotten how to ask for help
And how to struggle for my best

I was harder than those iron wheels
Rollin’ down the track
And every trip I took
I never looked to get any feelings back

And I want to thank you babe
For lettin’ me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again
I want to thank you baby
For letting me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again

When you met me at the station
With a promise and a kiss
You said my love for you will always be true
But you must remember this
Respect me and protect me
But don’t expect me not to fall
And I will do the same for you
Until the final call

And I want to thank you babe
For lettin’ me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again
I want to thank you baby
For letting me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again

Thank you baby for lettin’ me back in
I wanna thank you for asking me to love you again

When Lily enters the money and completes the transaction, the machine speaks.  Many of the men try to 'tag' at that point, and it says "no points available."  They look puzzled.  Then, not half a second LATER, the female voice says, "Now get your points." 

Lily says to the men, "Well, it's a woman, you know ... timing is everything" and she says you should see the looks on the men's faces.  This ... they know all too well.

At other times men look frustrated and say, "Just like a woman.  You can't get it right."

Timing is everything - with women, with relationships, with everything else.

Let me help you with your timing so you can get the woman you want!

sdunn@susandunn.cc, the Dating Coach

The energy in the pit was incredible. To get there was a bit of a struggle of course - I had a seated ticket for the 30th May show, but spoke to the hardcore Bruce fans (mostly Italian or German) in the front of the queue and asked them how they had got there because I wanted to be there tomorrow with my General Admission ticket, and they told me to "meet us after the show tonight (the 30th), so you can get a number in the queue for the pit on the 31st."

So after the 30th show, I stayed on and looked for the group of Italians I had spoken to - and got a nice pit queue number, 54 out of a potential 2000! This whole "pit queue/roll call" system was independently organised by hardcore, serious Bruce fans, who felt the need to organise the pit queue so fans wouldn't necessarily have to sleep overnight. There were a lot of politics that arose while people were assigned their pit queue number by the Dutch Bruce fan assigned to be the leader at this point (i.e.: "I want to go first! Why am I second in the queue?!"), but I missed all that out here for the sake of clarity. All you need to know is that I helped vote that everyone be given an equal chance to queue in the numerical order they were initially given, but our majority vote was of course ignored by the people who wanted to be first in the queue... again. So much for democracy!

Anyway, so us pit-queuers stayed on until 11:30pm for out first "roll call" - and predictably I missed the last train back home. But while I was pacing up and down the area outside the Emirates Stadium and worrying about a taxi home (I had no cash and it was past 1am at this point), suddenly, Max Weinberg walks out of the stadium doors where all the pit queuers were based and ah! It was worth the worry. He is just a little more handsome in real life, of course. Although he was clearly very tired, he still made a nice effort to take photos and write autographs for the 10 or so people there (including myself) - I didn't manage to get anything from him, but I did take a picture of him and Bruce's setlist! :D

Ah. So after meeting part of the E Street and finally getting into a warm cab and getting home by 3am, I woke up again at 4:30am to make my way to the pit queue "roll call" at 6:30am - where everyone got into their numerical position in the queue to prove they were still there to see Bruce - and then again every 2 hours from then.

Very limited sleep, lost appetites, bowel problems and sore bums on concrete floors while we sat in the queue until 5pm. But during all this, I met a load of interesting Springsteen fans - but mostly the type that were also into John Mellencamp and beer - but mostly all very friendly and open. One very tanned and American guy was from San Diego, and kept telling us about how he was an attorney and went to 129 Bruce shows, his first being in 1978 during the Darkness tour, and owned a charity music organisation that Bruce had visited and taught his son how to play some piano (he even carried the photographs in his jacket pocket) - very endearing and worth all the queue pains to meet crazy people like that.

Ah, but once the pit gates opened - crash! Everyone ran in. All our energy was restored - but of the ruthless, competitive, and "I'm not taking any chances" variety. This is what I initially expected from the pit queue - a sense of ruthlessness and urgency - and when I got through the gates and started to run to the pit, my shoe broke, I slipped, and was beaten in a running race by a 58 year-old!

Once I secured my cosy place in a second row, just left off centre area, there was another 2 hour wait till the show began.

Then the show began. My first show actually in the pit with Bruce and the E Streets.

And now, I will stick to my word and not review the show any longer, because it really will overwhelm my already overwhelmed and overly happy concert/music/Bruce head apart, into a million shining pieces that will be hard to pick up again.

Second best night in my whole entire life, alongside that Neil Young night. Now there is also "that Springsteen night".

This has happened with my friend - a very dear friend - in fact, probably one of the closest friends I ever had. And because she and I were so close, we knew exactly the right things to say, exactly the right buttons to push to hurt each other. And we did so.

Repeatedly.

At this point, on this day, that friendship is shattered. Utterly, totally fractured.

And yet... like the scorched landscape at Mt. St. Helens, I still believe that between us the ground is still fertile to rebuild, to replant, to regrow...

It will take time. It will take risks (after all, we both still know how to hurt each other). And it will not be the same as before (that was my biggest mistake this time around - not recognizing that change is inevitable).

But how to start?

I am admittedly very much into the idea of The Secret, of manifesting your desires, of the Universe responding to us. And I know now that I was so worried about losing this friend that the Universe gave me exactly what I was thinking about - I lost this friend.

So now, it's all about intention. Neale Donald Walsch, in his Conversations with God book, states that the creative process isn't Have - Do - Be  - you have to "have" a thing in order to "do" what you want, so that you can "be" a certain way.

Rather, it's Be - Do - Have.
Rather than having to have something to be a certain way, be that way right from the start. The have will follow naturally.

So... since I wish to be at peace with my friend, I will be at peace with my friend- and having the friendship with her will follow naturally with time.

The question, of course, is how do you be? Or maybe better, Shakespeare had it right - to be or not to be?

In my case, I banish all thoughts of hurts, slights, anger, pain, loss and guilt regarding our past relationship. I forgive myself, and I forgive her as well.

And I just act as a friend. Not a sycophant, not a toady, not a craven, jealous person... just as a friend.

When I see something funny, I share it - through e-mail, text or on-line...
When I hear something interesting or thought provoking, I pass it on, and invite her comment.
When I read something she's done on her Internet site and I don't agree, I'll either post a comment there or post a reply here...

In all cases, I will do this again from a loving place.

I have always felt the same way about her at the core of my being. It's four sentences, ten words, which define everything.

I LOVE YOU. ALWAYS HAVE. ALWAYS WILL. NO MATTER WHAT.

I may get upset... we may be working at cross purposes... but no matter what pains happen, I know these ten words are true - and I live through them and by them.

More tomorrow, I'm sure.

As for this friend - she's visible on the net somewhere around here...

The question at hand is not, therefore, whom God loves and saves. God loves all and God saves all. Even human doctors are morally obliged to cure all patients regardless of who and what they are. From this viewpoint hell is indeed salvation, but the lowest form of it. One either chooses or one does not choose to be cured from the short-circuit which makes one religious. The one who chooses cure exercises himself like an athlete who follows the Lord of Glory's directions for purifying his heart. "Blessed are the pure in heart for they shall see God." One cooperates with Christ in the purification of one's heart and in acquiring the illumination of the unceasing prayer in the heart. This allows love to do away with self-centeredness and selfishness, but at the same time increases one's dedication to destroying the work of the Devil. When God sees that one is ready to follow the cure which will make him selfless He guides him into the courtyard of glorification and takes him from being a child to manhood, i.e. prophethood (1 Cor. 13:11). One begins with sick love concerned with one's own salvation and graduates into selfless Love which, like Saint Paul, would forego one's own salvation for that of others.  In other words one either chooses cure or refuses cure. Christ is the Doctor who cures all His patients to that degree of cure they accept, even that of hell.

Compassion = selfless Love...  You are on the right track.  I think you know that.

tangled there, thorns and bramble

there hung a moment, and instant a

hateful thought borne of anger

pain and a tinkling sadness I thought

left behind in that

sinking ship I like to call a past.

It cannot be borne, nor

retrieved and I, in my

blinding Alexander like pique

don't hear the air crack and seize, don't hear the

whiplash of a heart break.

Caught up am I. Seething am I.

Oblivious, wrapped in caustic am I.

From my rage my eyes, the broad bridge

of a nose, my thin lips arise, my ears

uncover, I pierce the skin of my madness

only to peer through the corners and feel that

all have left me.

Something changed.

Like the wind between summer and winter, that

warm biting edge on a breeze that smells like sleep something

shifted, softened, sighed and released.

I have smothered this love, coated it in wax and

walked the other way, my work sinking

deeper, festering. I have

brought down the walls and

collapsed the cellars.

My hands holding the dirt

of what once was between us.