Wednesday, June 30, 2021
Tuesday, June 29, 2021
The Labyrinth
Dave Lucas,
Founder of The Ordinary Office
has a Dream.
Some of my Labyrinth Memories:
https://traveloguefortheuniverse.blogspot.com/search?q=Labyrinth+
My Celtic friend told me the difference between a Labyrinth and a Maze.
I walked the Labyrinth and felt a psychic cleansing of sorts.
A Maze is full of frustration, dead ends, no guided pathway.
I visited the Labyrinth at All Saints Church in South Burlington Vermont.
The sign at the beginning of the path says much
Monday, June 28, 2021
Sunday, June 27, 2021
Cannabis Legalized in Virginia, Well, Sort of 🤔
After I read this Great article:
https://www.virginiamercury.com/blog-va/what-virginias-marijuana-legalization-bill-actually-says/
I sent this letter to the Newspaper Reporter 📰 😎
A Bill with What a lot of Crazy Details!
I’ll check FAQ’s later or probably just go to a head shop and find out their interpretation.
I have a few issues already just skimming through the laws.
1. They should Not have referred to Cannabis as “Marijuana “ or “Mary Jane” or other Reefer Madness terms.
2. I have pleaded with legislators to legalize Medical Cannabis which I had access to when we lived in Vermont. https://traveloguefortheuniverse.blogspot.com/search?q=Cannabis+
3. The Legislation is not kind to patients with severe pain like myself, living with Multiple Sclerosis. I had to renew my useless Patient “low THC Oil “ card again. Fee plus I paid Dr Jordan Tishler to certify me because UVA Doctors we’re not ready for this. For 2 years, I’ve had a card: $300, no product. They said, oh, I have a defense if I get busted. Wot?
I thought I wouldn’t need a card anymore but found out I can’t access Medical Cannabis at an outlet without the card.
4. GLeaf is a dispensary in Richmond. Nice products!
Prices untouchable to me. I could use up a $50 cartridge (on sale) in no time.
Access will not be easy nor cheap.
Add A Few More Regulations in LawyerSpeak!
Saturday, June 26, 2021
Friday, June 25, 2021
Friday Night Musik
Turn off the Squawk Box MSM & Social Media for a Healing.
Close your eyes, Deep Breathe.
Now have a listen.
“Believe it if you need it, if you don’t just pass it on…”
The Grateful Dead 💀
Thursday, June 24, 2021
Wednesday, June 23, 2021
Tuesday, June 22, 2021
Mom and Dad… Father’s Day Sunday June 20th.. Bittersweet Memories ❤️
Dad and Mom have left the Material Plane but they are always inside of us and I do miss them so. Write down your memories about your memories of your parents and appreciate how much work they did ❤️😎https://t.co/z4vxdCEatW #FathersDay https://t.co/kwZfDJbHyb pic.twitter.com/XCAn4LOJ6e
— Mary Gerdt Parler:Alvarita1 (@marygerdt) June 20, 2021
Monday, June 21, 2021
(A Not So) Ordinary Office To the Passerby, Perhaps better understood as Virtual Church ⛪️
I’m not sure how I got here, to the Ordinary Office.
Once here, I am Grateful to Dave and Rebecca and Jarvis for their
Dedication and Devotion to Reaching out to every corner of the World We live in.
Join us if You like.
Sunday, June 20, 2021
Saturday, June 19, 2021
Friday, June 18, 2021
Friday Night Musik
Some weeks are easier to find just the right song 🎶
Not so this week,
John Mayall and Carolyn Wonderland et al YouTube link. Enjoy ❤️🙏🏼😎
Thursday, June 17, 2021
#TBT
I had a Dream…originally posted in 2010
“Wake up” He said.
Thomas Jefferson put it this way: "...a wise and frugal government, which shall restrain men from injuring one another, which shall leave them otherwise free to regulate their own pursuits of industry and improvement, and shall not take from the mouth of labor the bread it has earned. This is the sum of good government."
My eyes wouldn't open, I did not want to wake up. This was a dream I told myself.
Of all the people I would like to dream about, he would be in the top 5.
I felt like of all the people I have told my stories to, Thomas Jefferson would probably sit down with me and politely say, can my girl get you something to drink?
Take your time,
now tell me your story.
And I would relax back enjoying the mountain breeze, gazing at his gardens, and I would tell him.
If it was a real dream, he would just google me or tweet or FB or something.
What would he say? Would he think women should own anything? Would he ask me where my husband was and he would just ask him what happened?
Would he let me ask him why he has a girl? What does the girl want? What does she dream?
Maybe he would ask me the same thing.
Dreams are funny things. I still remember some dreams like postcards, or short action clips.
Thomas Jefferson had a dream and yearned to create the best government possible.
Perfection, unfortunately is not possible.
Reality is always a little Off Balance, tending towards entropy, with unsustainable perfection.
So when he woke me up,
I said,
Can I get you something to drink?
Wow, I cannot believe it is you.
I have been to your house and paid to see inside several times and I was impressed.
Your writing, inventions, gardens and philosophy in and out of government is incredible.
Tell me,
how did we do with carrying out your dreams?
Do you want to hear my story?
Then I woke up
My eyes wouldn't open, I did not want to wake up. This was a dream I told myself.
Of all the people I would like to dream about, he would be in the top 5.
I felt like of all the people I have told my stories to, Thomas Jefferson would probably sit down with me and politely say, can my girl get you something to drink?
Take your time,
now tell me your story.
And I would relax back enjoying the mountain breeze, gazing at his gardens, and I would tell him.
If it was a real dream, he would just google me or tweet or FB or something.
What would he say? Would he think women should own anything? Would he ask me where my husband was and he would just ask him what happened?
Would he let me ask him why he has a girl? What does the girl want? What does she dream?
Maybe he would ask me the same thing.
Dreams are funny things. I still remember some dreams like postcards, or short action clips.
Thomas Jefferson had a dream and yearned to create the best government possible.
Perfection, unfortunately is not possible.
Reality is always a little Off Balance, tending towards entropy, with unsustainable perfection.
So when he woke me up,
I said,
Can I get you something to drink?
Wow, I cannot believe it is you.
I have been to your house and paid to see inside several times and I was impressed.
Your writing, inventions, gardens and philosophy in and out of government is incredible.
Tell me,
how did we do with carrying out your dreams?
Do you want to hear my story?
Then I woke up
Wednesday, June 16, 2021
#Gadolinium theories ➡️ connections
MRI Contrast needs to be studied in depth.
Posting a few thoughts about Magnetic effects on gadolinium
Tuesday, June 15, 2021
Monday, June 14, 2021
Sunday, June 13, 2021
I Hope You’re Taking Notes 📝
Wrote for my Mom many years ago ❤️
I Hope You’re Taking Notes 📝
[i wrote this 4 years ago about the time i started blogging. I sent to a friend and lost it. today she sent me the file and i wanted it in my blog memories, multicolored moments, some stinging, some sweet, all good.. this is for mom]
“I hope you’re taking notes”, my mother exclaimed as we settled into a long overdue visit.
“Oh, I am”, I replied.
We have never had too much trouble communicating with each other. No time to beat around the bush, skirt the issue, wallow in subtleties.
I quickly discovered she was mad about “having” to be “placed” in an apartment with my father. But she always said it was OK if we had to place her in a nursing home and this is just an apartment. The light bulb went off in my head. “But this is the nicest senior housing I have ever been in.” I tried to recover from feeling like I had forgotten something. I guess I had. Does she remember when we talked…they had a choice…everyone thought it was for the best. Now I sat across from My Mom, a mad senior, one with nothing to lose, one with a mission to educate her health care professional daughter about the real world.
I remember when I was 5 and going to kindergarten. 3 doors down. So far away. My mother told me then about the real world. You will come here every day. They don’t have your name tag. You are in the wrong classroom. But I liked the other teacher. You will get used to it. You will have to take naps. I thought to myself, what’s a nap?
We often begin thinking things are one way and discover our perception is only that.
My viewpoint. My reality. Seen through My eyes and filtered through My experiences and My learning.
Some will never get to the point of seeing how their experiences shape their reality.
These are the my way or the highway types.
Some are willing to work through the experiences and consider their perceptions may be influenced by past events.
These are people like you and I who are trying to learn all we can in this life.
Then there is my Mom.
Deceptively quiet at times. Deep down a true warrior. Anti-war warrior, shaman princess, student of metaphysics, Esperanto, Rosicrucian, mother of seven assertive “Gerdt” children, Modern thinker, lover of ancient times, Atlantis aficionado, Lover of Omar Khayyam, opera and anything mystical, mindreader, painter, dreamer.
Now do you understand my dilemma?
She is always right (but staunchly left).
She is powerful but gentle.
She is outspoken but reserved.
The conversation turns as it always does (to my relief) to death and plans.
“I want to be cremated” my mother says plainly as she has done since I was a little one.
“I know, Mom.” How could I forget. After all these years hearing it over and over as if I would suddenly forget when the time comes and slip to the mortician. “Embalm her now, I would say. The purple fluid. “
I decide to change the subject.
“I have made a decision too, Mom. I want to be cremated and Fred knows where I want my ashes spread.” There, the conversation has been successfully diverted. Mom can’t say anything to that one. Now she knows how I feel. Or maybe she still doesn’t.
So we go on trying to make conversation about old days and pictures from the past and what they had for lunch or doctor’s appointments to come. Where is your pain today?
Or silence as the 24 hour news channel stirs up the elders. War, gas prices, political failures, government conspiracies, snafu’s. The golf channel with it eternal 18 hole game. The food channel.
Is it time to eat again?
We take a ride up the river road. One of my favorite places on the planet. The bluffs north of Alton remind me of a day this was all under water. When the planet was covered with water and we were all sea creatures.
We stop at the Wilton Hotel, an old family style restaurant/hotel with fresh fried chicken, homemade sausages and pickles. We get a pound of asparagus at a roadside stand. I envy the woman who sells it to us. She lives out here in the middle of nowhere and makes her living working the land. She has a peace on her face that farmers have. No money, maybe, but that extraordinary peacefulness. She may not even know I am looking at her like that. She may not think her life is so special. "Maybe I could take a vacation sometime", she thinks as we drive away. "Instead of picking this damn asparagus every day."
We get on the Brussels ferry, a 10 minute ride across the Illinois River. I get out to smell the river air. I close my eyes. Feel the motion of the ferry underfoot. Hang onto the railing. I envision the days when people rode the riverboats and played cards and traded and traveled these rivers. A short little trip but I try to prolong it. Hold on to the memory. Can’t I stay forever?
Before you know it we are on the other side.
Before you know it we are back on the plane to go home.
Short visit. So short.
I mindlessly chew the handful of peanuts they gave me and try not to cry on the plane. When I left home years ago, I was eager to find my own way, a new world, a place where no one knew me, or had preconceived ideas about me. It was a bittersweet memory like now. Leaving my parents, wondering if this was the last time, wondering why Vermont was where I landed. Why so different after all than Illinois.
But when the green mountains appeared on the horizon it was as if they said,
“Welcome back, we missed you”, just like the first time.
10 minutes to ground I pulled out my paper and started writing. I heard my mother’s voices say ”I hope you’re taking notes…”
“I hope you’re taking notes”, my mother exclaimed as we settled into a long overdue visit.
“Oh, I am”, I replied.
We have never had too much trouble communicating with each other. No time to beat around the bush, skirt the issue, wallow in subtleties.
I quickly discovered she was mad about “having” to be “placed” in an apartment with my father. But she always said it was OK if we had to place her in a nursing home and this is just an apartment. The light bulb went off in my head. “But this is the nicest senior housing I have ever been in.” I tried to recover from feeling like I had forgotten something. I guess I had. Does she remember when we talked…they had a choice…everyone thought it was for the best. Now I sat across from My Mom, a mad senior, one with nothing to lose, one with a mission to educate her health care professional daughter about the real world.
I remember when I was 5 and going to kindergarten. 3 doors down. So far away. My mother told me then about the real world. You will come here every day. They don’t have your name tag. You are in the wrong classroom. But I liked the other teacher. You will get used to it. You will have to take naps. I thought to myself, what’s a nap?
We often begin thinking things are one way and discover our perception is only that.
My viewpoint. My reality. Seen through My eyes and filtered through My experiences and My learning.
Some will never get to the point of seeing how their experiences shape their reality.
These are the my way or the highway types.
Some are willing to work through the experiences and consider their perceptions may be influenced by past events.
These are people like you and I who are trying to learn all we can in this life.
Then there is my Mom.
Deceptively quiet at times. Deep down a true warrior. Anti-war warrior, shaman princess, student of metaphysics, Esperanto, Rosicrucian, mother of seven assertive “Gerdt” children, Modern thinker, lover of ancient times, Atlantis aficionado, Lover of Omar Khayyam, opera and anything mystical, mindreader, painter, dreamer.
Now do you understand my dilemma?
She is always right (but staunchly left).
She is powerful but gentle.
She is outspoken but reserved.
The conversation turns as it always does (to my relief) to death and plans.
“I want to be cremated” my mother says plainly as she has done since I was a little one.
“I know, Mom.” How could I forget. After all these years hearing it over and over as if I would suddenly forget when the time comes and slip to the mortician. “Embalm her now, I would say. The purple fluid. “
I decide to change the subject.
“I have made a decision too, Mom. I want to be cremated and Fred knows where I want my ashes spread.” There, the conversation has been successfully diverted. Mom can’t say anything to that one. Now she knows how I feel. Or maybe she still doesn’t.
So we go on trying to make conversation about old days and pictures from the past and what they had for lunch or doctor’s appointments to come. Where is your pain today?
Or silence as the 24 hour news channel stirs up the elders. War, gas prices, political failures, government conspiracies, snafu’s. The golf channel with it eternal 18 hole game. The food channel.
Is it time to eat again?
We take a ride up the river road. One of my favorite places on the planet. The bluffs north of Alton remind me of a day this was all under water. When the planet was covered with water and we were all sea creatures.
We stop at the Wilton Hotel, an old family style restaurant/hotel with fresh fried chicken, homemade sausages and pickles. We get a pound of asparagus at a roadside stand. I envy the woman who sells it to us. She lives out here in the middle of nowhere and makes her living working the land. She has a peace on her face that farmers have. No money, maybe, but that extraordinary peacefulness. She may not even know I am looking at her like that. She may not think her life is so special. "Maybe I could take a vacation sometime", she thinks as we drive away. "Instead of picking this damn asparagus every day."
We get on the Brussels ferry, a 10 minute ride across the Illinois River. I get out to smell the river air. I close my eyes. Feel the motion of the ferry underfoot. Hang onto the railing. I envision the days when people rode the riverboats and played cards and traded and traveled these rivers. A short little trip but I try to prolong it. Hold on to the memory. Can’t I stay forever?
Before you know it we are on the other side.
Before you know it we are back on the plane to go home.
Short visit. So short.
I mindlessly chew the handful of peanuts they gave me and try not to cry on the plane. When I left home years ago, I was eager to find my own way, a new world, a place where no one knew me, or had preconceived ideas about me. It was a bittersweet memory like now. Leaving my parents, wondering if this was the last time, wondering why Vermont was where I landed. Why so different after all than Illinois.
But when the green mountains appeared on the horizon it was as if they said,
“Welcome back, we missed you”, just like the first time.
10 minutes to ground I pulled out my paper and started writing. I heard my mother’s voices say ”I hope you’re taking notes…”
Saturday, June 12, 2021
Friday, June 11, 2021
Friday Night Musik
This Week a Very Special YouTube Link.
Every Thursday I search for music I want to showcase on Friday.
This week, the music found me. A Facebook person posted this one.
Enjoy 😉
Buy her new album!
Thursday, June 10, 2021
Wednesday, June 9, 2021
Tuesday, June 8, 2021
Monday, June 7, 2021
Pride Month Service
Our Church is a Virtual Church.
This week a special theme of Pride and Welcoming to worship with us, virtually, online.
Sunday, June 6, 2021
Saturday, June 5, 2021
Friday, June 4, 2021
Friday Night Musik
This week a special tune from YouTube The Weight Band 😎🥁🎸👍🏼 🎹 🎤
Thursday, June 3, 2021
Wednesday, June 2, 2021
Tuesday, June 1, 2021
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