Sophie the wonder dog enjoys getting wet. Usually.
Sophia is thirteen today. Celebration consisted of a road trip, pack time and howling with the Prowlers at NKT.
Charlottesville’s Freedom of Speech wall. Someone wrote down their hopes/aspirations for 2013.
I’m thinking that Maggie the Jack Russell bears some responsibility.
I found comfort thinking my dog saw only in black and white.
Begin civil twilight 6:57 a.m.
Sunrise 7:27 a.m.
Sun transit 12:12 p.m.
Sunset 4:58 p.m.
End civil twilight 5:28 p.m.
Sophia is fine.
But there is a sadness as we approach the still point. Pack members gone. Life changing. Loss of familiar voices. Old ones going going. Dance and sing. Pause, remember, mourn.
At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance.–T.S.Eliot
Cayce was born on a farm in Hopkinsville, Kentucky, in 1877, and his psychic abilities began to appear as early as his childhood. He was able to see and talk to his late grandfather’s spirit, and often played with “imaginary friends” whom he said were spirits on the other side. He also displayed an uncanny ability to memorize the pages of a book simply by sleeping on it.–Association for Research and Enlightenment