RSS Feed

Tag Archives: character

Jean Jacques Goldman Un Tour Ensemble 2002 (Amazing live concert)


Jean Jacques Goldman is a brilliant artist. A singer, song writer, composer & exceptional musician. He started singing because he couldn’t find anyone to sing his songs the way he wanted. He was thrown onstage MalgrĂ© lui. (despite himself)
He is an artist that counts his blessings which is very rare & a free one with that… he’s responsible for his shows, his songs are non-commercial & his lyrics broaches all topics, he rarely speaks about love, is very poetical & dares to write what other would not.

Even though it’s a long video (taking space) I thought it worthwhile to share this artist with all of you 🙂

Courtesy of Wikipedia… Jean-Jacques Goldman (French pronunciation: ​[ʒɑ̃.ʒak ɡɔldˈman]; born 11 October 1951) is a Grammy Award-winning French singer-songwriter. He is hugely popular in the French-speaking world, and since 2003 has been the second-highest-grossing French living pop-rock singer, after Johnny Hallyday. In the 1990s, he was part of the trio Fredericks Goldman Jones with a string of hits.

“Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favour of fair use.”

Published on 12 Nov 2013
no description available
Category
People & Blogs
Licence
Standard YouTube Licence

The incredible story of how leopard Diabolo became Spirit – Anna Breytenbach, “animal communicator”.


This is an amazing video which brings me on to completely unfamiliar grounds which I found on
http://ladybluerose.wordpress.com/2014/02/06/his-name-is-spirit/ At first I was very skeptical but the story is so dramatic it pulls you into this new concept… animal communication.

“Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favour of fair use.”

Published on 19 Nov 2013
I just want to share this message as much as possible without any commercial intent, personal benefit or whatsoever. All used materials and therefore copyrights do not belong to me. I hope you enjoy discovering and watching this story and skill as much as I did.

I found the source of this amazing documentary on the following neat cultural site:

http://www.cultureunplugged.com/docum…

—————————————-­—————-

What if you could talk to animals and have them talk back to you? Anna Breytenbach has dedicated her life to what she calls interspecies communication. She sends detailed messages to animals through pictures and thoughts. She then receives messages of remarkable clarity back from the animals. In this section, Anna transforms a deadly snarling leopard into a relaxed content cat.The amazing story of how leopard Diabolo became Spirit…

This is the first full length documentary film on the art of animal communication. Nominated for Best Long Documentary, Best Director of “Jade Kunlun” Awards of 2012 World Mountain Documentary Festival of Qinghai China.

Want to learn more about Anna and the science of animal communication? Buy her DVD at: http://www.kalahari.com/Film/The-Anim…

Director: Craig Foster | Producer: Vyv Simson | Narrator: Swati Thiyagarajan
Genre: Documentary | Produced In: 2012 | Story Teller’s Country: South Africa
Category
Pets & Animals
Licence
Standard YouTube Licence

Families… April 2010


©copyright2013owpp

©copyright2013owpp

Families…
———

Families are intricate unities that assemble fragments of love, which they could easily discard if ego steps in.
Usually in a situation fabricated by their own imagination.
Families weave their own history, gluing it together with the substance called love hoping it will withstand the hazards of time.
Some families withhold the pressures of life by staying even closer. Practicing compassion, tolerance and love as a shining example for the world to witness.
Interacting with noble qualities as, finesse, integrity, virtue, righteousness, purity and above all a desire for true cohabitation.
They let their ego aside, seek and invite truth in, practicing patience and understanding in situations, others would have long buckled under.

Bursting as an olive seed, under the weight of a millstone. Grinding to its last drop.
How many of these “torches” illuminate our planet?
I wonder. Are they one percent? If they are, they should be standing high and proud. As the lighter of an Olympic flame.
Given a medal.
Instead, they are kept in the quiet. They tiptoe in the labyrinths of life and succeed to find a way out of this maze and convert it to beautiful alleys.
Some of them, growing an orchard on their way, with the promises of sweetness as a perquisite for having played a role in the grandeur of a king’s quarters.
Their children’s devotion, are their pride and badges. They take no heed in titles or honors.
They cherish the warmth of past memories and amuse themselves at keeping them alive by recalling them to their grandchildren, on long winter nights, a twinkle in their eyes, a spark in their heart and a smile on their lips.
Then, go on, feeding, on their children’s silent recognition, translated by small tokens. A gesture, a look, a hug and most of all, loving respect.
Are we aware of the importance of our each and every move?
As situations reveal themselves before our eyes, we are given a mind and heart to consult. The gift of introspection.
Do we use them wisely?
We have the freedom and dignity of choice. We could make an everlasting impression for generations to come. Leave our “trade mark“.
Is that not worth its weight in gold? Should it not give us a rush to strive toward that goal?
We could give up our self-made miseries and feed the younger generation with tender care.

Behave with consistency and rationality in order to provide them with the much needed security and balance in their lives so, as to prepare them on THEIR journey and pack their suitcases for the long road, with, stability, strength and joy. All vital tools in their jobs to shape a few generations to come.

And so it goes


Building a non-ending chain of character, beauty and light.
In the hope, it will brighten the world and eradicate any dark shades left by the person


Who thought he had no choice.

Authentic Holland-The port of my wandering 1989 Adjusted January 2013 with French original text. La Hollande authentique- Le port de mon errance.


Enkhuizen2010 ©copyright2013owpp

Enkhuizen2010
©copyright2013owpp

Enkhuizen ©copyright2013owpp

Enkhuizen
©copyright2013owpp

This poem was the result of an enchanting and memorable trip on Holland’s thin roads running along its canals. It obviously had to be adjusted but the words, emotion and kernel were kept. The photos are fairly recent.
Enjoy it!

Authentic Holland
——————

Earth and paradise
In this country
Peace in its nature
Green, blue so pure

Narrow roads
Water on all sides
Line of earth
Precarious but salutary

Solitude and tranquility
Propitious pleasures
Picture perfect
Grandiose and magnificent

Landing
From time to time
In small quaint villages
Reminiscing a fairy tale

One final flight
Grazing the ground
Ethereal scenery
Coasting the imaginary

Euphoria and sadness
Contradictory feelings
Belonging to an evening
Of nature in triumph

On the highway, tired
Feeling purified
Of buried anxieties
Hitherto asleep

Furrowing this beautiful country
Its character dazzles us

And we regain


The Holland of our youth
The port of our wandering.

________________

La Hollande authentique
————————-

Terre et paradis
Dans ce pays
Paix en sa nature
Vert, bleu si pur

Routes Ă©troites
L’eau de toute part
Ligne de terre
Précaire mais salutaire

Solitude et tranquillité
Plaisirs propices
Tableau parfait
Grandiose et magnifique

Atterrissant
De temps en temps
Dans de petits villages coquets
Rappelant un conte de fée

Un dernier envol
FrĂŽlant le sol
Paysage irréel
Cîtoyant l’imaginaire

Euphorie et tristesse
Sensations contradictoires
N’appartenant qu’un soir
A une nature en allégresse

Sur l’autoroute, fatiguĂ©
Se sentant purifié
Des angoisses enfouies
Jusqu’ici endormies

Sillonnant ce beau pays
Son caractĂšre nous Ă©bloui

Et nous regagnons


La Hollande de notre enfance
Le port de notre errance.

Bill Moyers interview with Ursula K. LeGuin about “Lathe of Heaven”


There are interviews where you immediately shut off when the interviewer
starts asking his questions to the interviewee.

Others where you feel the chemistry running and are hooked till
the last word is said. This is how I felt when I saw this one with Bill
Moyers interviewing Ursula K. Leguin.

He managed to bring out her rich personality, listening to her is captivating.
She reaches out to the listener and makes them feel a kinship to her ideas about
writing a book, her characters, her peaceful way of thinking about life, growth,
wisdom…

I could go on and on… In short it’s a very interesting video to watch for
those curious about the literate world and professionals.

Enjoy and let me know what YOU think about it 🙂

——————-

Published on May 2, 2012
Bill Moyers intertview with Ursula K. LeGuin concerning the PBS
movie adaptation of her novel “Lathe of Heaven”.

Ruth stone Follow up of Elizabeth Gilbert


Three posts ago I gave you a video of Elizabeth Gilbert on TED
where she mentioned the genius of a certain Ruth Stone which
I obviously looked up on you tube out of curiosity.

What I found was a rare gem in the world of poetry.

She is a unique pearl where words magically pour out from her mouth.
There is a book on Amazon called What love comes to.
One can leaf through the first few pages.
A writer Sharon Olds describes her talent beautifully so I will
elaborate no further.

Meanwhile, enjoy this piece of heaven 🙂

———–

Uploaded on May 21, 2009
Ruth Stone is a true American original. Now aged 93, she is still writing poetry of extraordinary variety and radiance. Pamela Robertson-Pearce filmed her in Vermont in September 2008. Ruth is almost blind but knows many of her poems by heart, and recites (or sings) several poems in this short film (prompted occasionally by editor Neil Astley). Born in Virginia in 1915, she has lived in rural Vermont for much of her life. In 1959, after her husband committed suicide, she had to raise three daughters alone, all the time writing what she called her love poems, all written to a dead man who forced her to ‘reside in limbo’ with her daughters. The poems are all from her recent retrospective WHAT LOVE COMES TO: NEW & SELECTED POEMS: ‘In an Iridescent Time’, ‘Orchard’, ‘The Talking Fish’, ‘The Excuse’, ‘Advice’, ‘I Have Three Daughters’ (which she sings), ‘Mantra’ and ‘The Season’. The poems are included here by permission of her publishers Copper Canyon Press in the US and Bloodaxe Books in the UK. For more details, see: http://www.bloodaxebooks.com/titlepage.asp?isbn=1852248416

And there was silence! Fiat Silentium! 2010


Noisy family

Hello everyone!

First and foremost I’d like to thank you all for your support.
For a new blogger it’s very encouraging. I hope you’ll forgive occasional mistakes, as you can see, it’s still unfamiliar terrain.
I’d like today to give over to you an essay I wrote two years ago for an assignment.
There are some times in writing, when ones thoughts meet the pen with such easiness it takes you by surprise, but you know, the main reason
is, because it came straight from within, unto the paper. ( Keep in mind that my works are mostly fictional )
This is exactly what happened this time, I truly had pleasure creating it, enjoy!

And there was silence!
————————

Four forty five pm and I open my eyes with difficulty after a short nap which I seldom indulge into.

Five or ten minutes go by and I’m still struggling with the sensation of deep relaxation pulling me back into the fuzziness of slumber.
I was aware that something was unusual but I couldn’t define the exactitude of it’s source.
The impression of being in synchronization with the universe, was so overpowering, I allowed myself the luxury to absorb the uniqueness of the
moment however ephemeral it was to be.

The clock inevitably ticked by for another fifteen minutes,when it suddenly dawn unto me… THERE WAS SILENCE!

Now. If you would ever dare to adventure into our abode, you’d be quickly swept into the swirl of laughter, vociferous vocals, musical sounds being practiced
in the background, phones ringing, machines humming as a washer, dryer, ovens, friends visiting and we, seemingly comfortable with our noisy style of life.
Being accustomed to the frenzy we experience as a daily occurrence, you’d probably have the sensation of stepping into a cyclone or a hurricane, never to
come back again.
Which I would appreciate and infer that you come from quieter settings and upbringing.

We have amazing children ranging in the ages of teens to over twenties and we tried our best to educate them to feel and express themselves with no inhibitions.
To love and to live in it’s true sense. We sometimes enjoy indulging in vespertinal behavior but mainly, daily life quickly wins over.
I would fain admit that I’m the culprit of this boisterous lot.

Hence,my disorientation when silence tread-ed in unabated.
Having dragged myself out of my torpor, I became aware of the pulsating sounds of a world within my own, piercing my cocoon.
I could perceive the heartbeat of a vibrating town.
Cars and lorries, following the course of their traced paths… The echoes of someone dropping brusquely a metal object in their balcony…
How silence can be treacherous!
Primarily, I could cut through silence as I would a birthday cake.
It predominated and invaded the small space I found myself in. It was total and complete. Yet, as consciousness seeped in my pores, there was the recognition that,
quietude, always vibrates with sound.

It throbs and pulsates as the heart of a newborn.

Had you climbed the highest mountain, in the hope of escaping the hubbub of the so-called civilized world, you would still be encumbered by the winds resonating through the stillness,
if you wouldn’t be in the right mindset.

Silence, is noise. Forasmuch as, without it, this” testimony of life ” would’ve gone undetected.

And without the pandemonium of our big cities, we wouldn’t have encountered or experienced, fleeting moments of nirvana.

Silence is alive.

If it would be as absolute as we’d wish it to be, long would we be gone to a dimension, where sound is, but a distant memory ( If we have one! ) Where living in the present
is not a choice but a way of being.
Where we would have fallen astern in our appreciation of the cock-crow in a barnyard or, the wail of a capricious child. We would be, confronted to a world of unmitigated stillness.
Where the soul is wrapped up in clouds of spirituality. Where,regret doesn’t have a place. Or philosophy a name. Habits and thoughts are belated pilgrims. We’d be with the knowledge that we’d
been transients unto territories that FELT familiar and convinced we were affiliated to it’s structures.

Blessed be, the occasional forays of silent resemblances, or smothered din intruding our intended worldly peace.

After pondering on that thought, I nonetheless, savored and relished every parcel of blissful, imperfect tranquility given to me. But, not-withstanding, vowed to go out for a stroll in our
beautiful town and absorb every bit of sound surrounding me!

The dense traffic, the tramways screeching on the rails, the wailing sirens of an ambulances saving in extremis lives of it’s dwellers and even my portable, blaring a cacophonous tune, as a devilish choice of my dear children who had gone unanswered too many a time.
I did all that with gladness in my step and providence’s wink ( or nod of approval ) which I interpreted by the rays of sunshine coming out after a long and freezing winter.

We live on a main artery which leads to highways conducting to many countries. The contrast between the ethereal and peaceful experience I had just encountered in my Utopian Elysium, the bedlam
created by our civilization felt like an uproar and aggression to my eardrums. But the gilded heavenly rays of warmth temptingly invite and tease me into hazarding myself into the year 2010.
We have a beautiful park running alongside our boulevard which always makes the walk thither a treat we all look forward too.

At present, I walk along the border of the park, the sounds of birds chirping, merging, with those of today’s means of transportation and find myself enjoying the quality and best of the two worlds.
The beauty of ( nearly! ) untouched nature and the luxury of our highly developed environment.
The park ends, and I saunter further and see the facades of antique houses. I admire the beauty of it’s architecture. The carving of it’s stones polished and renovated today as a token of appreciation to a rich historical past.

I see, time, effort and amounts of money we could never fathom, invested, to make every inhabitant, proud and privileged to belong to this infrastructure.
I wander straight on, sensing gratitude engulf my entire being, finding myself guided toward a museum nearby which, only it’s frontage, is a pleasure to the eyes.From there, my steps lead me, to what I call ” my ” bookstore, my treasure-cave. Rows after rows, filled with books, all sizes, colors and ages. Allowing me to blot out the ” palpitations ” of our era and soak up the tidal-wave of passions for the beauty of words, shaped, molded, carved and chiseled painstakingly by writers who’s love for perfection, overcame the tribulations that accompanied such a profession.

Book shop

Calmness descended upon me and I picked up a book on John Keats works.

Movement and noises, faded in the background and I found myself enthralled and swirled into a precarious, distant past…

But as usual, life always wins over imagination and I felt impelled back to the forces of the current moment.
The hustle and bustle of the outdoors yanks me to the verisimilitude of today’s frenzy.
I squint at the unusually persistent glare of sunlight flooding the square and opt for an empty bench inviting me to ensconce and bask in the pleasure of my new purchase.

I permeate and infuse every second of this impromptu escapade, Which brings a flavor of voyage. A wish for celebration. As a furlough from a superior to his subordinate.Prompting him to the thrill and anticipation that comes with unforeseen festivities.

I then, trace back my trajectory as if drawn by a magnet towards the confine of my own element, my fount, my shield and shelter. In the hope of basking sometime, very soon, again, in a few gifted minutes of blissful, ecstatic… SILENCE!

Thank you for taking your time to read this!