They Are My Teachers

lightness of being day wednesday

They Are My Teachers
Poem by Charles Bukowski
Video: Lorca & Her Brood” by Shawn MacKenzie
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Post Started on 6th August 2013
Posted On Wednesday 25th September 2013

Lightness of Being

Kittens Born to Lorca on Wednesday 18th September 2013
“Scottie”- “Nicke” – “Whitman” – “Ryder”

Kittens Nursing with Lorca Night They Were Born — Wednesday 18th September 2013

mirror_cat-500x500 “My Cats”
By Charles Bukowski

I know. I know.
they are limited, have different
needs and

But I watch and learn from them.
I like the little they know,
which is so

They complain but never
they walk with a surprising dignity.

They sleep with a direct simplicity that
humans just can’t

Their eyes are more
beautiful than our eyes.
and they can sleep 20 hours
a day
hesitation or

When I am feeling
all I have to do is
watch my cats
and my

I study these

They are my

Suitcase — Simon’s Cat

“A creative cat exceeds the baggage allowance.”

Why Do We Sleep?

tell me a story
Why Do We Sleep?
TED Talk: Russell Foster
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created 21st August 2013
Posted Thursday 19th September 2013
Russell Foster: Why Do We Sleep? TEDTalk

will this help u sleep anoes freddie

Freddy Kruger Nightmare on Elm Street

Point #1

We think of sleep as something we need a cure for
rather then treating it as something we all need.

Point #2

Lack of sleep causes weight gain.

Point #3

The body craves carbohydrates.

Point #4

Sustained stress due to lack of sleep.

Point #5

Glucose gets thrown into the mixture with sleep loss
which eventually leads to diabetes.

is this your face in nightmares  iotbs kevin mccarthy

Kevin McCarthy in Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #6

Try not to drink caffeine late in the day.
Preferably not after lunch.

Point #7

There are morning people and evening people.
I find that morning people are just horribly smug.

Point #8

Mental illness and sleep.
Sleep disruption is associated with mental problems.

Point #9

Sleep was irregular.
Stayed up late at night and slept during the day.

Point #10

Genes are connected to normal sleep.

don't sleep  tnotbs ds

Donald Sutherland in [newer version] Invasions of the Body Snatchers

Point #11

Genes connected to mental illness
smashes your sleep.

Point #12

High risk to develop Bipolar with sleep disruption.

Point #13

Lack of sleep exacerbates symptoms of mental illness.

Point #14

Take sleep seriously.

Point #15

We use to understand the importance of sleep.

Point #16

If you get enough sleep,
it improves your moods,
mental health.

Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one thinner

Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrations of Family Companion Animals
Photographs by Shawn MacKenzie
Post Created Wednesday 17th July 2013
Posted On Saturday 20th July 2013
X-Treme Haiku Saturday

Schroeder-the Jekyll & Hyde of Cats-kisses & snuggles switching instantaneously to bites & growls. And then there's Saki-our Amazon Parrot-my protector-she bites me when she thinks I am in danger. OUCH!!! One of her satisfactions is when she imitates Snoopy on his Sopwith Camel dive-bombing The Red Baron-in this instance replace TRB with Shawn-cannot get near me when Saki is sitting on my shoulder or near me in anyway. A true love/hate relationship with Shawn who gives her peanut treats whenever Saki asks. Now look at the love between S & S. It is a labour of love. In this photograph, Saki has only just started to fly over to us. Her life before us was trauma filled & neglect. Loved Shawn first but switched over to me. Now we are symbiotic & copacetic & share everything-Food & Love & Snuggles & I get a Heroic Protector who sleeps/sits on me when I write or doing anything at all. A Love Note for My Two Favorite Cuddlers.  1280x960

Schroeder-the Jekyll & Hyde of Cats-kisses & snuggles switching instantaneously to bites & growls. And then there’s Saki-our Amazon Parrot-my protector-she bites me when she thinks I am in danger. OUCH!!! One of her satisfactions is when she imitates Snoopy on his Sopwith Camel dive-bombing The Red Baron-in this instance replace TRB with Shawn-cannot get near me when Saki is sitting on my shoulder or near me in anyway. A true love/hate relationship with Shawn-who gives her peanut treats whenever Saki asks. Now look at the love between S & S. It is a labour of love. In this photograph-Saki has only just started to fly over to us. Her life before us was trauma filled & neglect. Loved Shawn first but switched over to me. Now we are symbiotic & copacetic. We share everything-Food-Love & Snuggles. I get an Heroic Protector who sleeps/eats/sits/snuggles/dances on me when I write or do anything. A Love Note for My Two Favorite Cuddlers. Kisses-Jk [One of Their Two Mums] ps. I am not Invisible to them. They need me as I need them & want me in their lives.

Sometimes You Just Feel Invisible
By Jennifer Kiley
17th July 2013

Sometimes you just feel
Invisible no sight no
Depth of shape no dimensions

Vision forward moves
Past forgotten locked in lost
Memories committed done

Frozen locked in time
Tripping tricking psyche deep
Confusion delusions thoughts

Trapping murderers
Vanquish shadows’ reflection
Innocence stolen destroyed

Perversion alive
Evil plans continue then
New images prevailing

Subconscious nightmares
Dreams retold when awakened
Bulldozers crashing breaking

Home protects safe place
Breathe panic out with symptoms
Expand light growing healing

© Jk 2013

Lakme-Delibes: Flower Duet — Joan Sutherland
Combining Art With Love
— Music Video — All Digital Art Created by Jennifer Kiley

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one thinner

Myths of Fixed Personalities: Violent Rebellion Part 1

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one

Myths of Fixed Personalities
Violent Rebellion Part 1
Against the Myths of Fixed Personality
Written by Anais Nin in 4 Parts
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Created Friday 12th July 2013
Illustrated by j. Kiley
Posted on Sunday 14th July 2013

myths of fixed personalities by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

Remember-Remember V for Vendetta Soundtrack — Dario Marianelli


“…it’s just another one of those things I don’t understand: everyone impresses upon you how unique you are, encouraging you to cultivate your individuality while at the same time trying to squish you and everyone else into the same ridiculous mould. It’s an artist’s right to rebel against the world’s stupidity.” ― E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly

a divider for post no. 5 love fav new one

Haiku: Nightmares To Dreams

Haiku: Nightmares To Dreams
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created on 5.14.13
Posted on 5.15.13silver divider between paragraphs

Nightmares To Dreams by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013   827x2623

Nightmares To Dreams by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

silver divider between paragraphs
yin/yang of dark & light by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013  719x418

yin/yang of dark & light by j. kiley © jennifer kiley 2013

silver divider between paragraphs

River Phoenix — I Still Crysilver divider between paragraphs

James Dean — I Still Crysilver divider between paragraphs

James Dean — Forever Youngsilver divider between paragraphs

“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” ― John Lennon

“I don’t paint dreams or nightmares, I paint my own reality.” ― Frida Kahlo

“I still get nightmares. In fact, I get them so often I should be used to them by now. I’m not. No one ever really gets used to nightmares.” ― Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves

“There are many who don’t wish to sleep for fear of nightmares. Sadly, there are many who don’t wish to wake for the same fear.” ― Richelle E. Goodrich, Dandelions: The Disappearance of Annabelle Fancher

“You learned to run from what you feel, and that’s why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control.” ― Megan Chance, The Spiritualist

“My sleep wasn’t peaceful, though. I have the sense of emerging from a world of dark, haunted places where I traveled alone.” ― Suzanne Collins, Mockingjaysilver divider between paragraphs

“I like the night. Without the dark, we’d never see the stars.” ― Stephenie Meyer, Twilight

“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” ― Eleanor Roosevelt

“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.” ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

“People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.” ― Neil Gaiman

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” ― Arthur O’Shaughnessy, Poems of Arthur O’Shaughnessy

“A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.” ― John Lennon

“You know that place between sleeping and awake, that place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always think of you.” ― J.M. Barriesilver divider between paragraphs

The Great Gatsby

The Great Gatsby
Film Review
Character Analysis
Film Trailer
Post Created by j.kiley
Posted May 10th 2013
silver divider between paragraphsgreat gatsby gifsilver divider between paragraphsTHE-GREAT-GATSBY-Postersilver divider between paragraphsPassages
“When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more of the riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction–Gatsby who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life…This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of “creative temperament”–it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such that I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No–Gatsby turned out all right in the end; it was what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elation’s of men” (Fitzgerald 6-7).

This passage, located in the first chapter, is a reflection of Nick’s feelings after the summer of 1922. The unique organization of the book placed this reflection before the actual events, so that it serves to foreshadow what will come. After his summer of parties, decadence and intrigue Nick is disgusted by the modern culture and society. After only one summer, he is prepared to return to the comfort of routine and familiarity that he associates with his home. The only person who has not diminished in his sight is Jay Gatsby, because, in spite of Gatsby’s lavish lifestyle, there was a vitality and enthusiasm about him that impressed Nick. This passage summarizes the final phase of Nick’s emotional and intellectual transformation. Nick experienced interest, involvement and finally disgust. This feeling of disgust and disillusionment with the roaring twenties is a strong sentiment throughout the book.
“They had forgotten me but Daisy glanced up and held out her hand; Gatsby didn’t know me now at all. I looked once more at them and they looked back at me, remotely, possessed by intense life. Then I went out of the room and down the marble steps into the rain, leaving them there together” (Fitzgerald 101-102).

This passage presents a scene in which Nick visits with Gatsby and Daisy, but is completely eclipsed by their love for each other. They see nothing beyond themselves and their own love. Nick leaves unnoticed and un-missed. This self-absorption is apparent in many of the characters throughout the book and contributes to the confusion and sorrow that ultimately occurs. Everyone is working for themselves, with little to no consideration for the feelings or needs of others. In this scene, Nick notes the vitality of the two lovers. It is Gatsby’s passion and enthusiasm for life that particularly impresses Nick, but it is this vitality that ultimately destroys his relationship with Daisy. Both these elements of passion and selfishness create an atmosphere that allows for the careless destruction of lives and people.silver divider between paragraphsCharacters
The narrator of the story, Nick Carraway, is a self-described “tolerant” and “open-minded” man. From a wealthy and long-established midwestern family, Nick was educated at Yale and is an astute and perceptive individual. Quiet and a good listener, Nick frequently plays the role of confidante, and unwilling witness to the secrets and ambitions of his acquaintances. His own actions and ambitions are insignificant when contrasted with the observations of Gatsby and the Buchanan’s. The reader’s sense and understanding of Nick’s character comes largely from his reactions to the actions of his friends. He is not an impartial judge, and makes his sentiments known. Like Scout in To Kill a Mockingbird, Nick’s experiences alter his perspective on the world. He observes the actions of those around him, and is not unmoved by them. Like Scout, he finds much to repulse him and disappoint him in his fellow humans. Where Scout was repulsed by racism, Nick is sickened by the vices and excesses of the Roaring Twenties. Nick, unlike Scout, is an educated adult, but this does little to prepare him for the atmosphere of wild abandon he finds in New York society.

Daisy Buchanan is a distant cousin of Nick’s, who enchants and attracts people with her sensual personality as well as her beauty. On the exterior, Daisy seems to have achieved complete success with her marriage to the wealthy Tom Buchanan, and her popularity within the higher social circles. In reality, Daisy is stuck in a faltering marriage with an adulterous husband, and little true enjoyment. With the arrival of Gatsby, her former love, Daisy experiences a short period of passionate happiness and feeling. This only serves to heighten her internal confusion, as she struggles to determine what type of life she wants to lead and with whom she wishes to spend that life. This struggle demonstrates Daisy’s weakness of character and her malleability. Daisy is supposedly based on Fitzgerald’s wife Zelda. Like Zelda Daisy is a winsome and attractive woman, but she has a love for the material things of life. She is fairly superficial, and her outward graces cover a love of money and position.

Tom Buchanan, Daisy’s husband, is a domineering and determined fellow. Defined by strong and stubborn opinions and feelings that are often ill-founded, Tom’s character is a destructive one. He marches recklessly and heedlessly forward without consideration to the trouble he causes for others. Engaged in an affair, he is unfaithful in marriage and makes Daisy’s life terribly unhappy. He shares many characteristics with Stanley from A Streetcar Named Desire. Both men demonstrate primitive qualities and a propensity for anger and aggression. They are physical and bestial men. Unconcerned with the destruction they create, both hurt the women that they love and offend those with whom they interact.

Jay Gatsby is the mysterious and wealthy neighbor who becomes the subject of Nick’s attention all summer. A self-made man from a poor background, Gatsby is brimming with life and enthusiasm. His passion and energy amaze Nick as well as his other acquaintances. He is the constant subject of speculation and gossip because of his intense nature, odd habits, and lack of established history. As Nick discovers, the driving force behind Gatsby’s actions is his love for Daisy. In his mind Gatsby has transformed Daisy into an angel, and his love for her has fueled his drive to be successful. Gatsby is much like the Rhett Butler figure in Gone with the Wind, because like Rhett, he is mysterious and constantly confounding convention. He has worked hard to establish his fortune, and his reputation has grown to extreme proportions. His love of Daisy motivates him, in much the same way that Rhett’s love of Scarlet dictates his actions. By admitting this love, both of these characters are demonstrating a vulnerability uncharacteristic of them, or at least of their reputation. Gatsby, the tragic lover, remains a mystery throughout, even when confiding in Nick.silver divider between paragraphs

Carey Mulligan & Leonardo Dicaprio

Carey Mulligan & Leonardo Dicaprio

silver divider between paragraphs The Great Gatsby
A grandiose, colorful, pleasure-drenched night at the movies.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
By Dana Stevens|Posted Thursday, May 9, 2013, at 6:34 PM
Leonardo DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan in The Great Gatsby.

As Nick Carraway, the mild-mannered but eagle-eyed narrator of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, observes in the book’s early pages, “Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope.” So it was with a Zen mind that I tried to approach Baz Luhrmann’s adaptation of the book, which, intelligent debunkings aside, I really do regard as one of the great American novels of the 20th century—and probably inherently unfilmable. Literary adaptations of books in which the language is all—particularly the work of high-modern prose stylists like Fitzgerald, Proust, Nabokov, Woolf—seem doomed to either plodding literalism or airy insubstantiality. (Stanley Kubrick’s Lolita had a nasty sense of humor all its own, but the script, written by Nabokov himself, dispensed almost entirely with the narrative voice that makes the novel so perversely seductive.)

Then there was the fact that Baz Luhrmann, the Australian director of such grand-scale entertainments as Romeo + Juliet, Moulin Rouge, and Australia, was the one who would be turning Fitzgerald’s economic tone poem of a novel into a big, glitzy 3-D spectacle. I’ve never been fond of Luhrmann’s films, and have only been able to tolerate a couple. (I think I walked out of Moulin Rouge, back when I wasn’t a film critic and could indulge in such luxuries.) His mania for heaping one visual excess atop another—look at this! No, look at this!— strikes me as a form of directorial ADD, an inability to let himself or the audience rest. And as a member of that winded audience, I sense an implicit condescension in Luhrmann’s tendency to flag and then re-flag a film’s major themes as his films go on—themes that were not introduced subtly the first time around. In Baz Luhrmann movies, ideas arrive with an ensemble.

But of course, The Great Gatsby is the story of a supremely unsubtle man given to bold gestures and flashy set pieces, so maybe Luhrmann was born to adapt it. At any rate, his Great Gatsby was nowhere near as terrible as I feared. It is, as I suspected, a gargantuan hunk of over-art-directed kitsch, but it makes for a grandiose, colorful, pleasure-drenched night at the movies. And far from betraying the spirit of Fitzgerald’s novel, Luhrmann (along with his co-screenwriter Craig Pearce) treats the book with a loving mix of straight-ahead reverence and postmodern playfulness. During the huge, highly choreographed party sequences that structure the story (this isn’t a musical, but the recurring music- and dance-heavy sequences make it feel like one), you’re more likely to hear Jay-Z, Kanye West, and Lana Del Rey than you are a tinny vintage recording of “Ain’t We Got Fun?”, the flapper-age standard that figures in a scene in the novel and that played at the end of the stillborn 1974 Robert Redford version. Luhrmann’s use of contemporary pop may spring mainly from a desire to sell soundtrack albums, but the notion of using hip-hop as a backdrop for Jazz Age euphoria makes sense: With his new wealth, loud pink suit, and impossibly sweet crib, Gatsby is a rap star before his time.

Dance-floor playlists aside, this Gatsby unfolds in a fairly conventional period setting (though this is the ’20s as seen through a distorting kaleidoscope, everything a little bigger and louder and lusher than life). In a klutzy frame story that’s absent from the novel, we meet Nick Carraway (Tobey Maguire) at a sanatorium where he’s recovering from “morbid alcoholism” and assorted mental maladies. He begins to tell his story to a benevolent, Santa Claus-like shrink, who provides him with a pen and paper with which to write it down. Later Nick will trade these tools in for a typewriter; whatever writing tool he uses, the words will occasionally drift up around him on the screen, then break apart and drift around him in a cloud of floating 3-D letters. It’s a hokey device, but the Nick-as-author conceit gives us an excuse to listen some choice passages of Fitzgerald’s prose, which Maguire, giving a surprisingly quiet performance at this chaotic movie’s heart, delivers beautifully. Thematically, though, it does seem a mistake to turn The Great Gatsby into a self-referential bildungsroman about a young man’s journey to healing through authorship. When Nick finally pens in “The Great” over his manuscript’s original title Gatsby, we don’t so much feel pride in his accomplishment as annoyance at his smugness—he’s supposed to be telling us this story out of necessity, not ambition.

The story Nick has to tell is one that anyone who’s graduated high school in the United States surely knows, at least in Cliffs Notes form: The mysterious tycoon Jay Gatsby (Leonardo DiCaprio) owns a gaudy estate next door to Nick’s rented cottage in the fictional Long Island village of West Egg. At one of his extravagant all-night flapper blowouts, Gatsby asks Nick to arrange a meeting with Nick’s cousin Daisy (Carey Mulligan), a dazzling former debutante whom Gatsby once loved and lost as a younger, poorer man. Daisy lives directly across the sound in old-money East Egg with her rich brute of a husband, Tom Buchanan (Joel Edgerton), and is constantly flanked by her best friend Jordan Baker (Elizabeth Debicki), an icy-cool golf champion. Over the course of a summer, Nick is drawn into the orbit of these wealthy, powerful, lost people, whom he recognizes as a “rotten crowd” only after their unthinking cruelty has already caused irreparable harm.

Every image and set piece you remember from the novel—the crumbling oculist’s billboard that looms over the action with judging eyes; Gatsby flinging his collection of custom-made shirts at an overcome, weeping Daisy (and, thanks to the 3-D format, directly at us); the hot afternoon at the Plaza Hotel when the rivalry for Daisy’s affections comes to a head—is rendered in broad, operatic gestures. There were many moments when that broadness made me cringe: Does the CGI-aided camera always have to race at jet-ski speed across the water toward the symbolic green light on Daisy’s dock? Must Gatsby’s face really be seen for the first time against a backdrop of fireworks, as the climax of Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” surges on the soundtrack? And yet for every slab of processed cheese, there’s another moment whose visual inventiveness pays off. In an early scene, Luhrmann turns one image in the novel—Nick looking out the window at a party, “simultaneously enchanted and repelled by the inexhaustible variety of life”—into a clever Rear Window-style tableau of a Manhattan apartment building bursting with untold stories.

Leonardo DiCaprio makes as good a Jay Gatsby as any living actor I can think of—he captures the character’s fixed-in-time boyishness as well as his innocent hucksterism, and he looks like a (dubiously ethical) million bucks in the splendiferous costumes by Catherine Martin, the director’s wife (who also designed the dizzyingly lavish, champagne-and-confetti-drenched production—she must have been one tired woman by the time shooting ended). But DiCaprio’s physical presence seems almost superfluous in some key scenes, as Maguire’s voice-over narrates the idealistic striver’s actions faster than he can complete them. Our first glimpse of Gatsby, before even the Gershwin-accompanied debut described above, is a shot of his be-ringed hand reaching toward that oft-revisited green light as Nick describes watching his enigmatic neighbor … reach for a green light off a dock. Luhrmann doesn’t just gild the lily, he spray-paints it with glow-in-the-dark sparkles.

Somehow the connection that’s established between Gatsby and Nick—the charismatic gangster and the shy young banker he dubs “old sport”—feels more vital and convincing than the illicit love between Daisy and Gatsby, which, despite Carey Mulligan’s sensitive performance, remains more of a narrative conceit. Perhaps the sweet-faced Mulligan is a little too sensitive for this part—there’s a hard, narcissistic edge to Daisy that we don’t glimpse until very late in the film (which also, disappointingly given Luhrmann’s literalness, misses the chance to work in Gatsby’s observation that “her voice is full of money”). Many of the actors in smaller roles—especially Isla Fisher and Jason Clarke as Tom Buchanan’s working-class mistress and her duped mechanic husband—seem to be straining to fill their limited screen time with the most theatrical, Punch-and-Judy style performances possible. If there’s a discovery in the cast, it’s the Australian actress Elizabeth Debicki, who plays Daisy’s enabling pal Jordan. In the novel, Nick describes the implacable Jordan as looking “like a good illustration, her chin raised a little jauntily, her hair the color of an autumn leaf.” Debicki’s cool, reserved performance captures the stillness of that description—when she’s onscreen there’s a moment of respite from the noise, a sigh of relief that there’s someone in this feverishly over-self-explaining movie we may never understand.silver divider between paragraphs

The Great Gatsby — Leonardo DeCaprio and Carey Mulligansilver divider between paragraphsQUOTATIONS on CLASS:

“Class is an aura of confidence that is being sure without being cocky. Class has nothing to do with money. Class never runs scared. It is self-discipline and self-knowledge. It’s the sure-footedness that comes with having proved you can meet life.” ― Ann Landers

“It’s okay. We aren’t in the same class. Just don’t forget that some of us watch the sunset too.” ― S.E. Hinton, The Outsiders

“Thus did a handful of rapacious citizens come to control all that was worth controlling in America. Thus was the savage and stupid and entirely inappropriate and unnecessary and humorless American class system created. Honest, industrious, peaceful citizens were classed as bloodsuckers, if they asked to be paid a living wage. And they saw that praise was reserved henceforth for those who devised means of getting paid enormously for committing crimes against which no laws had been passed. Thus the American dream turned belly up, turned green, bobbed to the scummy surface of cupidity unlimited, filled with gas, went bang in the noonday sun.” ― Kurt Vonnegut, God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater

“The few own the many because they possess the means of livelihood of all … The country is governed for the richest, for the corporations, the bankers, the land speculators, and for the exploiters of labor. The majority of mankind are working people. So long as their fair demands – the ownership and control of their livelihoods – are set at naught, we can have neither men’s rights nor women’s rights. The majority of mankind is ground down by industrial oppression in order that the small remnant may live in ease.” ― Helen Keller, Rebel Lives: Helen Keller

“History is written by the rich, and so the poor get blamed for everything.” ― Jeffrey D. Sachs
silver divider between paragraphs

DreamWeaver’s Corner: Imagine the Psyche is like a House.

the secret keeper:

Absolutely brilliant material. Learning so much from reading your DreamWeaver’s Corner. I am reblogging. Going to take my mini dissertation with me. Thank you for your insight and for sharing it with all of us. Love this post especially. The House is kind of scary but it is worth the journey into the collective unconscious. Very Cool. jk the secret keeper
I add this as something that I wrote on the blog site where I follow On The Plum Tree & DreamWeaver’s Corner & all the other special creative treats one finds there…DreamWeaver’s Corner: Imagine the Psyche is like a House What is hiding in the cavern of dusty decaying remnants of the unconscious? We join with the collective which must have been around since the beginning of time. So the wisdom that is contained within the darkness must be infinite also. Our life must have added to the collective, bringing in a freshness to mix amongst the remnants of the infinite. All our lives are connected to this place in the farthest reaches of this ancient enclosure. Is it where the dark feeds and re-energizes? And when nightmares frighten us. They resurrect from this darkness and feed our sleeping minds with their collective pieces of memory or symbols.

This may seem like a strange question. The collective is the unconscious and is joined as one unconscious. Then theoretically my nightmares or life experiences that are stored away in my unconscious join the collective unconscious. Blending all unconsciousness into the one, the collective. So when I dream, my soul is drawing on the symbols accumulated form everyone’s unconscious. Does this mean the collective unconscious assimilates all perceptions? That they are converted into symbols so that all can draw from the collective unconscious contributed to by all in the conscious world? All experience is eventually converted and stored in the unconscious and filtered back into the collective unconscious.

So, I conclude this dialectic that we are all connected through the collective unconscious. All experience that is stored away eventually ends up as symbols of the collective unconscious. The symbols in our dreams which our souls bring forth to the conscious mind which we can choose to analyze, will enable us to communicate with the soul. By doing this it enables us to communicate with the collective unconscious. Is this too convoluted or have I understood how this tentatively works?

If I have gone too far or seem too out there just say so. My mind gets way too analytical. The point is to connect to the collective unconscious and the symbols stored there in order that we may communicate with the soul and, also, to release the darkness that haunts us. Lastly, to be able to release the mess that has accumulated and is preventing us from releasing our emotions through feelings. When this is done we will be freeing our self to experience life more fully and actually feel life.

I do not expect you to answer this but i think I wrote my way through understanding some of what you have been writing in your DreamWeaver’s Corner.

Thank you for such a profound way of describing how one should see the layers that lead to the collective unconscious. Absolutely Brilliant Niamh. I think I am getting it. Now I just need to allow my soul to bring to me the symbols. I feel she is beginning to do that. I want to understand and be able to release my emotions through my feeling them. It would be such a freedom to be able to express them freely again, the way I did as a child before those around me shut me down along with my emotions.

That was a catharsis of sorts, more mental than emotional but a little of that also. Once again, TY Niamh. Mine blowing material. :-) jk

Originally posted on Plum Tree Books Blog:

Imagine the Psyche is like a house…  

Photo By Petit Tiago ©

Photo By Petit Tiago ©


The upper story is modern, bright. This is home to our consciousness and day-to-day reality. But wait! There is more. Descend the stairs with me to the ground floor to an older, darker floor. Imagine it furnished in medieval style. In these rooms, the personal unconscious is connected to cultural, mythic images that still influence today’s thinking and social mores. For example, the medieval Grail myth inspires the Hero’s journey, the personal quest – a recurrent theme classically expounded in much of our religion, film, art, and music.

Imagine a heavy door in the far wall, ornately carved with symbolism. Open it to discover a hidden room with walls that are made of stone. These are roman walls, dating back to when the house was originally constructed. Examining them, we discover how our collective memory is…

View original 218 more words

One Must Be A Seer

One Must Be A Seer
Created By Jennifer Kiley
Rewritten Material by J. Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
Created 04.20.13
Posted 04.20.13

I am borrowing the following poem by Arthur Rimbaud from a post I reblogged from on the plum tree. The following is an excerpt from the first post of the series, written by Niamh Clune: “Each Wednesday, I want to feature a rotation of different poets/writers writing about poetry…why they like a particular poem, new discoveries, (could be you) a little analysis.” Something to look forward to every Wednesday.

Now I present the poem that I could not resist. And I include a revised version of my comment. If you wish to see the post and comments in full go to Wednesday On The Plum Tree: In the Sandbox with Dr. Ampat Koshy. The post is brilliant and there is much to learn. I have added a few more intriguing aspects of Arthur Rimbaud’s life and something he wrote in a letter which should captivate your interest, I hope. This started out being a short posting of a poem from a poet I did not know very well but knew of and I had no idea what I would uncover from investigating his life. Find out what I discovered. I really would have enjoyed his company even during those difficult years or should I say especially during those difficult years.

one must be a seer 1 by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

one must be a seer 2 by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley 2013

First written on: April 17, 2013 (rewritten April 19th, 2013)

What a beautiful poem with what appears to me as a solemn ending. Such description, so alive and flowing smoothly off the tongue in the reading of them out loud. Rimbaud has conveyed to us such a peaceful image surrounded by natures beauty. Fully expecting the tranquility to be a story told of the living, for that is what surrounds the soldier. But as I stated, the ending is sad. The napping is permanent. The feelings elicited from the poem are delightful until the reader approaches toward the end. Then one is overcome with the unexpected and brought into a reality not predicted at the start.

This is a perfect choice to begin instructions. To be able to write in this way one needs to hone one’s ability of perceiving more closely one’s surroundings and be able to describe them in a more than ordinary way. I am impressed. To write like Arthur Rimbaud would be a great feat. Adjectives are not always my strongest area. This poem by Rimbaud has been revealing and given me something to work on. I am moved by the words of Arthur Rimbaud.

I am into writing for the purpose of making films but of another kind, not that of using poetry but of the use of a written script of dialogue. But I can only see using poetry in a film if one were doing what some would call a poetry slam and wanted to engage the body in the rhythm of the words as they were being created and spoken simultaneously.

But that is a different medium than the art of writing the words down for the purpose of an individual experience that you may or may not share in a reading or posting where other can observe and read your works. I like to hear what poetry I have written out loud, usually to myself, to hear how it sounds and to pick up on the rhythms and sometimes rhymes of the lines as they are spoken.

But I like writing of most any kind. Using words to express what I have ruminating in my mind. It is important to me to convey those words onto a surface so they can be read. Hopefully, the words will mean something and carry some significance, if only to myself. I encourage anyone to write who feels it in their soul or to express their soul through any form of art they feel most drawn into. Just express yourself. It is essential. It is LIFE. jk the secret keeper

Light and Shadow — Philip Wesley


“When you walk to the edge of all the light you have and take that first step into the darkness of the unknown, you must believe that one of two things will happen. There will be something solid for you to stand upon or you will be taught to fly.” ― Patrick Overton

“One is never afraid of the unknown; one is afraid of the known coming to an end.” ― Jiddu Krishnamurti

“A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

“The dark dangerous forest is still there, my friends. Beyond the space of the astronauts and the astronomers, beyond the dark, tangled regions of Freudian and Jungian psychiatry, beyond the dubious psi-realms of Dr. Rhine, beyond the areas policed by the commissars and priests and motivations-research men, far, far beyond the mad, beat, half-hysterical laughter… the utterly unknown still is and the eerie and ghostly lurk, as much wrapped in mystery as ever.” ― Fritz Leiber

“That illusion of a world so shaped that it echoes every groan, of human beings so tied together by common needs and fears that a twitch at one wrist jerks another, where however strange your experience other people have had it too, where however far you travel in your own mind someone has been there before you – – is all an illusion. We do not know our own souls, let alone the souls of others. Human beings do not go hand in hand the whole stretch of the way. There is a virgin forest in each; a snowfield where even the print of birds’ feet is unknown. Here we go alone, and like it better so. Always to have sympathy, always to be accompanied, always to be understood would be intolerable.” ― Virginia Woolf, On Being Ill

“Progress had not invaded, science had not enlightened, the little hamlet of Pieuvrot, in Brittany. They were a simple, ignorant, superstitious set who lived there, and the luxuries of civilization were known to them as little as its learning. They toiled hard all the week on the ungrateful soil that yielded them but a bare subsistence in return; they went regularly to mass in the little rock-set chapel on Sundays and saint’s days; believed implicitly all that monsieur le cure said to them, and many things which he did not say; and they took all the unknown, not as magnificent but as diabolical” ― Eliza Lynn Linton

“Even just seconds ahead is unknown; even just seconds after is open to infinite possibilities.” ― Mehmet Murat ildan

Writing Is Life Itself

Writing Is Life Itself
TED Talk: Roger Ebert: Remaking My Voice
Post Created by jk the secret keeper
Post Created 04.07.13
Posted 04.08.13

writer---film critic---thinker---roger ebert 1942---2013

writer—film critic—thinker—roger ebert 1942—2013

TED Talk — Roger Ebert — Remaking My Voice

When film critic Roger Ebert lost his lower jaw to cancer, he lost the ability to eat and speak. But he did not lose his voice. In this moving talk from TED2011, Roger Ebert and his wife, Chaz, with friends Dean Ornish and John Hunter, come together to tell his remarkable story.

“Life Itself: A Memoir” Excerpts from Roger Ebert’s Book:

“I was born inside the movie of my life. The visuals were before me, the audio surrounded me, the plot unfolded inevitably but not necessarily. I don’t remember how I got into the movie, but it continues to entertain me.”

“I got the feeling I sometimes have when reality realigns itself. It’s a tingling sensation moving like a wave through my body. I know the feeling precisely.”

“I read endlessly…one book led randomly to another. The great influence was Thomas Wolfe, who burned with the need to be a great novelist, and I burned in sympathy. I felt that if I could write like him, I would have nothing more to learn.”

“…the most useful advice I have ever received as a writer: ‘One, don’t wait for inspiration, just start the damn thing. Two, once you begin, keep on until the end. How do you know how the story should begin until you find out where it’s going?”

…the writing process is mostly an unconscious act of mesmerism by finding the purpose and doing it because you love it: “When I write, I fall into the zone many writers, painters, musicians, athletes, and craftsmen of all sorts seem to share: In doing something I enjoy and am expert at, deliberate thought falls aside and it is all just there. I think of the next word no more than the composer thinks of the next note.”

“My blog became my voice, my outlet, my ‘social media’ in a way I couldn’t have dreamed of. Into it I poured my regrets, desires, and memories…I didn’t intend for it to drift into autobiography, but in blogging there is a tidal drift that pushes you that way…first-person writing, and I’ve always written that way. How can a movie review be written in the third person…If it isn’t subjective, there’s something false about it.”

“The blog let loose the flood of memories…told…I should write my memoirs…It was the blog that taught me how. It pushed me into first-person confession, it insisted on the personal…Some of these words…first appeared in blog forms… They come pouring forth in a flood of relief.”

“…Movies are hardly ever about what they seem to be about. Look at a movie that a lot of people love, and you will find something profound…”

“…as a young boy I am awed by people who take the risks of performance. I become their advocate and find myself in sympathy.”

“What’s sad about not eating is the experience…The loss of dining, not the loss of food…The jokes, gossip, laughs, arguments, and memories I miss. I ran in crowds where anyone was likely to start reciting poetry on a moment’s notice. Me too. But not me anymore. So yes, it’s sad. Maybe that’s why writing has become so important to me. You don’t realize it, but we’re at dinner right now.”

Relationship with mortality: “We’re all dying in increments.”


“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou

“You have to write the book that wants to be written. And if the book will be too difficult for grown-ups, then you write it for children.” ― Madeleine L’Engle

“We write to taste life twice, in the moment and in retrospect.” ― Anaïs Nin

“No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader.” ― Robert Frost

“How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.”
― Henry David Thoreau

“Tomorrow may be hell, but today was a good writing day, and on the good writing days nothing else matters.” ― Neil Gaiman

“We live and breathe words. …. It was books that made me feel that perhaps I was not completely alone. They could be honest with me, and I with them. Reading your words, what you wrote, how you were lonely sometimes and afraid, but always brave; the way you saw the world, its colors and textures and sounds, I felt–I felt the way you thought, hoped, felt, dreamt. I felt I was dreaming and thinking and feeling with you. I dreamed what you dreamed, wanted what you wanted–and then I realized that truly I just wanted you.” ― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Writing is like sex. First you do it for love, then you do it for your friends, and then you do it for money.” ― Virginia Woolf

“Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

“You can make anything by writing.” ― C.S. Lewis

“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It’s that easy, and that hard.” ― Neil Gaiman

“Make up a story… For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don’t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief’s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear’s caul.” ― Toni Morrison, The Nobel Lecture In Literature, 1993

“If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don’t write, because our culture has no use for it.” ― Anaïs Nin

“Ideas are like rabbits. You get a couple and learn how to handle them, and pretty soon you have a dozen.” ― John Steinbeck

“I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.” ― James A. Michener

“Write what should not be forgotten.” ― Isabel Allende

“Writing is a way of talking without being interrupted.” ― Jules Renard

“Words do not express thoughts very well. They always become a little different immediately after they are expressed, a little distorted, a little foolish.” ― Hermann Hesse

“A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.” ― Dylan Thomas

“A book is made from a tree. It is an assemblage of flat, flexible parts (still called “leaves”) imprinted with dark pigmented squiggles. One glance at it and you hear the voice of another person, perhaps someone dead for thousands of years. Across the millennia, the author is speaking, clearly and silently, inside your head, directly to you. Writing is perhaps the greatest of human inventions, binding together people, citizens of distant epochs, who never knew one another. Books break the shackles of time ― proof that humans can work magic.” ― Carl Sagan

“There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.” ― Frank Herbert