Awareness

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.

Introduction by Phil

I fell in love with what a GPS could do, the first time I saw an article about one in Popular Science. This song celebrates whoever invented them.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.

Response by John:

The last GEM you listened by Phil was entitled, A Married State of Mind.

I love the opera, a musical called Les Meserable.

In Les Meserable, there is a love story between Marius and Quisette.

And the song, these lyrics, while falling in love, says “I am lost’ and she says, “I am found.”

And that reminds me of the love between a man and a woman.

Introduction by Philip:

We all have a box or a bag of trinkets, pictures and memories of our lives somewhere.
This song celebrates how precious these memories are.

   The actual song itself is available only in spoken form, as requested by Philip.

“Hi hon. How was golf?”
“I was lousy, as always.”
“But how did it feel?”
“It was fabulous being out in this gorgeous weather.”

Sound like a familiar conversation?

We often allow feelings of hopelessness to become our predominant emotion.

She stared at me with her oh so serious and piercing eyes, chin resting on her hand, and said in a most sincere voice: “I love talking to old people.”

There she was, one of a gaggle of elementary school girls at the first meeting of our new workshop, and these were the first words I heard out of her mouth.

Well, I responded, "I love talking to young people, so we’re going to have a great time together – sharing and learning from each other."

Suppose earth itself can help make peace on earth, in your lifetime, starting right now – the end of violence – the end of the barbaric age.

Consider the oppressor.

Suppose our thoughts can help make peace on earth, in your lifetime, starting right now – the end of violence – the end of the barbaric age.

Consider the people being oppressed.

I picture them wandering now in a grove of trees, tall and pungent, with the ground moist and soft. I picture them happily stepping on stones to cross a brook, trickling, soothing.

I picture them walking thru an open meadow of tall grasses with a sun umbrella, sparrows appearing and disappearing.

Overwhelmed? Too many things to do? Like an endless list, with things that put themselves back on the list every month, every week, every day?

I did.

Then one day, I said that from now on I would honor this list all morning, but come lunch, I am free for the rest of the day to do what I want. Sort of “give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” And to me what is mine: peace of mind.

I need to honor my own needs, not just the needs the modern world places upon me.

There is something about winter which I really love.

It feels sleepy, resting, in a sense meditating.

It seems to give an upspoken permission to just relax – to have some time for yourself.

All the colors are muted - grays and washed-out browns. And the trees are laid bare, to show a visual essence language written by their shapes, their intricate and poetic lines, all outlined with lacy fine twigs around the edges. At sunset, they glow orange.

The sun is hazy, diffuse behind a gray sky – you may even think it’s the moon.