Melody's Musings

Stuff that catches my fancy and random, sorted thoughts from the inner scrambles of my mind.

What you may expect to find here are what I consider good taste and some of the best in photography, philosophy, humor, art, architecture, food, music, poetry, literature and dance. I hope you like some of the things I enjoy.

I like anything to do with good design such as interior design, architecture, photography, and art. I enjoy philosophy and psychology. I love to figure out what makes individuals tick. Music of most all types but particularly classical, world, pop, acoustic guitar is a big part of my life and add some dance to the music and my day is great! I like to write and occasionally I will write poetry and I really love to read it out loud and I even record it sometimes.

I'm a Myers-Briggs type ENFJ which means I love people and have a great interest in them.

I guess you could say I'm a humanities kind of person. :)







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    Happy Mother’s Day to all my mom followers!

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    Values and CrapshootsMelody Hopkins 2010Why does your image constantly invade my head?And why do I hear the intonation of your spoken words?What is this magic power you seem to have over my daily thoughts?A power you neither recognize nor want.It is both a source of amazing joy and fearful consternation.Joy because it makes my dayConsternation because I fear the loss of such joy.Rare to find such friendshipsRarer still to keep them.Did I seal my own fate when I let youImprint upon my heart? I even helped you steal it. Others in the past have abandoned me.But what about life without this unfathomable bond?I have no choice but to take the chance. One cannot find a most precious stone and walk by itWithout wondering where its value could lead.Isn’t the true value of the stone in the possession of itBecause it is a thing of rare beauty?So now you know it — my secretYou are both my joy and my sorrowYou could be either a purloiner or a heroBut I’m going to take my chances and roll the diceSpin the wheel, bet the farm.Up the ante on my faith because life is a crapshoot.Then cross all my fingers and all my toesAnd one day I believe the love I feel for you, my friendWill be understood with the same singular mind.



    Values and Crapshoots

    Melody Hopkins
    2010

    Why does your image constantly invade my head?
    And why do I hear the intonation of your spoken words?
    What is this magic power you seem to have over my daily thoughts?
    A power you neither recognize nor want.
    It is both a source of amazing joy and fearful consternation.
    Joy because it makes my day
    Consternation because I fear the loss of such joy.
    Rare to find such friendships
    Rarer still to keep them.

    Did I seal my own fate when I let you
    Imprint upon my heart? I even helped you steal it.
    Others in the past have abandoned me.
    But what about life without this unfathomable bond?
    I have no choice but to take the chance.
    One cannot find a most precious stone and walk by it
    Without wondering where its value could lead.
    Isn’t the true value of the stone in the possession of it
    Because it is a thing of rare beauty?

    So now you know it — my secret
    You are both my joy and my sorrow
    You could be either a purloiner or a hero
    But I’m going to take my chances and roll the dice
    Spin the wheel, bet the farm.
    Up the ante on my faith because life is a crapshoot.
    Then cross all my fingers and all my toes
    And one day I believe the love I feel for you, my friend
    Will be understood with the same singular mind.

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    My recording and video of Andrea Gibson’s poem, “Maybe I Need You”

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    My poem, “Hanging the Moon”.   A poem about a special friendship

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    Nima Youshij (1896-1960):
I told my heart is broken from your cruel frown, Lover you are unkind, may your house break down! She laughed and laughed and said my house is your heart.  Mind you- your wish, your ill wish, that your heart falls apart? Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, 2013. Artwork: Abbas Katouzian. Nima Youshij: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nima_Yooshij -.-.-.-.- In Persian: • گفتم که مرا خانه شد اندر تک و تاب  از عشق خراب، خانه اش باد خراب  خندید و بگفت خانه ی من دل توست  کس با دل خود به کینه ننشست و عتاب.


    Nima Youshij (1896-1960):

    I told my heart is broken from your cruel frown,
    Lover you are unkind, may your house break down!

    She laughed and laughed and said my house is your heart.
    Mind you- your wish, your ill wish, that your heart falls apart?


    Translation: Maryam Dilmaghani, 2013.
    Artwork: Abbas Katouzian.
    Nima Youshij: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nima_Yooshij
    -.-.-.-.-

    In Persian:
    • گفتم که مرا خانه شد اندر تک و تاب
    از عشق خراب، خانه اش باد خراب

    خندید و بگفت خانه ی من دل توست
    کس با دل خود به کینه ننشست و عتاب.

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    Learn to love yourself

    How To Be Alone by Tanya Davis

    If you are at first lonely, be patient.

    If you’ve not been alone much, or if when you were, you weren’t okay with it, then just wait. You’ll find it’s fine to be alone once you’re embracing it.

    We can start with the acceptable places, the bathroom, the coffee shop, the library, where you can stall and read the paper, where you can get your caffeine fix and sit and stay there. Where you can browse the stacks and smell the books; you’re not supposed to talk much anyway so it’s safe there.

    There is also the gym, if you’re shy, you can hang out with yourself and mirrors, you can put headphones in.

    Then there’s public transportation, because we all gotta go places.

    And there’s prayer and mediation, no one will think less if your hanging with your breath seeking peace and salvation.

    Start simple. Things you may have previously avoided based on your avoid being alone principles.

    The lunch counter, where you will be surrounded by chow downers, employees who only have an hour and their spouses work across town, and they, like you, will be alone.

    Resist the urge to hang out with your cell phone.

    When you are comfortable with eat lunch and run, take yourself out for dinner; a restaurant with linen and Silverware. You’re no less an intriguing a person when you are eating solo desert and cleaning the whip cream from the dish with your finger. In fact, some people at full tables will wish they were where you were.

    Go to the movies. Where it’s dark and soothing, alone in your seat amidst a fleeting community.

    And then take yourself out dancing, to a club where no one knows you, stand on the outside of the floor until the lights convince you more and more and the music shows you. Dance like no one’s watching because they’re probably not. And if they are, assume it is with best human intentions. The way bodies move genuinely to beats, is after-all, gorgeous and affecting. Dance until you’re sweating. And beads of perspiration remind you of life’s best things. Down your back, like a book of blessings.

    Go to the woods alone, and the trees and squirrels will watch for you. Go to an unfamiliar city, roam the streets, they are always statues to talk to, and benches made for sitting gives strangers a shared existence if only for a minute, and these moments can be so uplifting and the conversation you get in by sitting alone on benches, might have never happened had you not been there by yourself.

    Society is afraid of alone though. Like lonely hearts are wasting away in basements. Like people must have problems if after awhile nobody is dating them.

    But lonely is a freedom that breathes easy and weightless, and lonely is healing if you make it.

    You can stand swathed by groups and mobs or hands with your partner, look both further and farther in the endless quest for company.

    But no one is in your head. And by the time you translate your thoughts an essence of them maybe lost or perhaps it is just kept. Perhaps in the interest of loving oneself, perhaps all those “sappy slogans” from pre-school over to high school groaning, we’re tokens for holding the lonely at bay.

    Cause if you’re happy in your head, then solitude is blessed, and alone is okay.

    It’s okay if no one believes like you, all experience is unique, no one has the same synapses, can’t think like you, for this be relieved, keeps things interesting, life’s magic things in reach, and it doesn’t mean you aren’t connected, and the community is not present, just take the perspective you get from being one person in one head and feel the effects of it.

    Take silence and respect it.

    If you have an art that needs a practice, stop neglecting it, if your family doesn’t get you or a religious sect is not meant for you, don’t obsess about it.

    You could be in an instant surrounded if you need it.

    If your heart is bleeding, make the best of it.

    There is heat in freezing, be a testament.

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    Maybe I Need You, a very emotional breakup poem by Andrea Gibson and recorded by me.

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    92 year-old former North Dakota District Judge and WWII veteran, Ralph Maxwell, recites the lyrics from his song “Wherefore Art Thou, Mitt Romney-O”.

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    The Guest House

    This being human is a guest house.
    Every morning a new arrival.

    A joy, a depression, a meanness,
    some momentary awareness comes
    as an unexpected visitor.

    Welcome and entertain them all!
    Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
    who violently sweep your house
    empty of its furniture,
    still, treat each guest honorably.
    He may be clearing you out
    for some new delight.

    The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
    meet them at the door laughing,
    and invite them in.

    Be grateful for whoever comes,
    because each has been sent
    as a guide from beyond.

    Rumi ~        
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    Reblogged from amandaonwriting
    amandaonwriting:

“so I wait for you like a lonely housetill you will see me again and live in me.Till then my windows ache.” 
~Pablo Neruda

    amandaonwriting:

    “so I wait for you like a lonely house
    till you will see me again and live in me.
    Till then my windows ache.” 

    ~Pablo Neruda

    (via effyeahpabloneruda)

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    Reblogged from seeyoulateraggregator
    My doing nothing as I walk the streets lives on
    and is released into the night’s multiplicity.
    The night is a long and lonely celebration.
    In my secret heart I justify and glorify myself.
    I have witnessed the world; I have confessed to the
    strangeness of the world.
    I’ve sung the eternal: the bright returning moon and the faces craved by love.
    I’ve recorded in poems the city that surrounds me
    and the outlying neighborhoods tearing themselves apart.
    I’ve said astonishment where others said only custom.
    Faced with the song of the tepid, I ignited my voice in sunsets.
    I’ve exalted and sung my blood’s ancestors and the ancestors of my dreams.
    I have been and I am.
    I’ve fixed my feelings into durable words
    when they could have been spent on tenderness.
    The memory of an old infamy returns to my heart.
    Like a dead horse flung up on the beach by the tide, it returns
    to my heart.
    And yet, the streets and the moon are still at my side.
    Water keeps flowing freely in my mouth and poems don’t
    deny me their music.
    I feel the terror of beauty; who will dare condemn me when
    this great moon of my solitude forgives me?
    Jorge Luis Borges. Almost A Last Judgement.  (via seeyoulateraggregator)
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    Pablo Neruda’s Poem, If you forget me

    All Photos are by Photographer Reinfried Marass, www.reinfriedmarass.tumblr.com or www.reinfriedmarass.com

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    “If You Forget Me” by Pablo Neruda   ~~recorded by me.  :)   
    Photograph by Reinfried Marass at www.reinfriedmarass.tumblr.com




    If You Forget Me

    I want you to know
    one thing.

    You know how this is:
    if I look
    at the crystal moon, at the red branch
    of the slow autumn at my window,
    if I touch
    near the fire
    the impalpable ash
    or the wrinkled body of the log,
    everything carries me to you,
    as if everything that exists,
    aromas, light, metals,
    were little boats
    that sail
    toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

    Well, now,
    if little by little you stop loving me
    I shall stop loving you little by little.

    If suddenly
    you forget me
    do not look for me,
    for I shall already have forgotten you.

    If you think it long and mad,
    the wind of banners
    that passes through my life,
    and you decide
    to leave me at the shore
    of the heart where I have roots,
    remember
    that on that day,
    at that hour,
    I shall lift my arms
    and my roots will set off
    to seek another land.

    But
    if each day,
    each hour,
    you feel that you are destined for me
    with implacable sweetness,
    if each day a flower
    climbs up to your lips to seek me,
    ah my love, ah my own,
    in me all that fire is repeated,
    in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
    my love feeds on your love, beloved,
    and as long as you live it will be in your arms
    without leaving mine.

    Pablo Neruda

    (Source: poemhunter.com)

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    Heath Ledger & Julia Stiles in “10 Things I Hate About You.”

    I hate the way you talk to me,
    and the way you cut your hair.
    I hate the way you drive my car,
    I hate it when you stare.

    I hate your big dumb combat boots
    and the way you read my mind.
    I hate you so much it makes me sick,
    it even makes me rhyme.

    I hate it… I hate the way you’re always right,
    I hate it when you lie.
    I hate it when you make me laugh,
    even worse when you make me cry.

    I hate it when you’re not around,
    and the fact that you didn’t call.
    But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you,
    not even close
    not even a little bit,
    not even at all.

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    Reblogged from aseaofquotes
    aseaofquotes:

— Pablo Neruda
Submitted by jaimectw.

    aseaofquotes:

    — Pablo Neruda

    Submitted by jaimectw.

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