Francina asks, “Why don’t we all share the light as a sign of hope? We can do this by posting for instance an image of a candle, a lamp, the light of a lighthouse etc. etc. in a blog post with the heading: Share the Light.”
Many of our blog pals have posted a “Share the Light” and Francina has reblogged them. I hope more join in with a post, and don’t forget to link to Francina’s blog!
She quotes the refrain from Leonard Cohen’s ANTHEM (1982) For those who don’t know it, here is the poet, himself. His opening statement also applies today.
ANTHEM
The birds they sang At the break of day Start again I heard them say Don’t dwell on what Has passed away Or…
A time it was, and what a time it was, it was A time of innocence A time of confidencesLong ago it must be I have a photograph Preserve your memories They’re all that’s left you
These words are really a masterwork; those days Al and me, we were crazy about these two, and we have swallowed all their works like this one but I understand it now as I myself, getting aged and working with many old peoples, especially in these moments in which they might all feel lonely and scary.
This album actually was not so popular, because, there comes an old-friends talk in between; in a senior institution; we must just to listen to.
therefore, I would like to present this old but forever album to our old friends.
The poems are fascinating; Sharing a park bench quietly? How terribly strange to be seventy”. it is an imagination of the Arts: it means for me a creation.
You might be surprised to see I’ve titled this with three Exclamation Marks instead of Nombre 3. I just wanted to show how I feel! 😁
I have mentioned, as I had a look back on the latest two chapters, that I have really a problem to write this story, my life story. I have known it as I read them, again and again, I’ve just thought: “what the hell; this man has a problem!! ” 😛
You know, I have learned in my life to get out of me, stay beside and look at myself as another person, I think it helps to get knowing oneself better and here I found this memorandum somehow poor. Here I must really thank you, dearest and adorable friends, despite all these poorness did support them. I am deeply grateful and appreciated.
As I might take the advantage of your kindness, let me analyse why I have such a problem with this story; since I got known psychology through Sigmund Freud, I have found out that I have many complexes in my life; When our mother lied us about father’s death, my unconsciousness knew there’s something wrong as I remember Al, who somehow got it clearly, tried to help mother’s secret on one side and to stop me not putting so many questions there all about, dear brother. I have found it out after some months later when I looked into the old magazine and saw the memorial ceremonies of the funeral which took place after father died (he was a famous writer in his time) and I asked her about the matter, her answer was just “get out and let me alone!” I went out, and of course, she came after me and we’ve taken us in arms wept together.
But these all have remained in my inner soul like deep tracks which I had to work with them, as I am still working on.
It’s surely a big problem but to this comes my inexperiences on writing too and also, two foreign languages which I have to struggle with; English and German. You know, I have learned both by myself; Al and I have learned English at home in Iran when we both began to work as a journalist and when we came in Germany, I’ve noticed that no matter if I can live and communicate in English with people I must learn German to better understand and be understood, therefore, bought some grammar books and did it myself! Now when I begin to think or write in English, both languages mixed up together; I am living here in Germany since 1985 and I speak, think, dream in German and when I want to switch into English, the conversant words for me are mostly German words; I have to translate them in English in my head! If you might notice in the last chapter, I’d written in the title; “Fufty” + Loneliness (2) It is just a mixed-up Fifty in English and Fünfzig in German!!
Here is an example by Master Dr Freud 😉😄
4 in German, is vier (sounds fear) and 6 sounds sex!
You might ask why I don’t write in German, and I might answer; I have the English language almost in my blood, maybe because since my childhood I’m listening to the English music and to be honest; writing in German is not so easy as the German believe in by themselves. 😉
Anyway, I wondered how many mistakes I’ve made, not only because of the languages but also my extremely humbleness plus a lot of excitement cause of lack of self-confidence.
Therefore, I dicided to make a stop to write about my life, I am sure I will back on this soon, thank you all again and again for your wounderful, inspiring suports and kind words. Blessing 💖🙏💖🙏
I just can’t go by any posts about this Queen without rush on to it and swallow every cell of this wonderful Goddess. Honestly, in my youth, I fell in love with some famous characters; the first one as I clearly can remember was Angela Cartwright; who got famous as Brigitta von Trapp in The Sound of Music and surely was known as Penny in the TV-series Lost in Space. And there it happened. I have fallen in love with her….
Anyway, the next one as still remains in my memory was Brigitte Bardot (I think that my old male friends can well have understanding!) though our love has a short time and with no success.
Now, I tell you that I have all forgotten and left all my old lovers behind but; this Goddess of painting is unforgettable (I still believe that my male friends all are agreed!)
So, now let’s enjoy this wonderful post by the very agreeable culture site http://www.openculture.com/ Thanks and,,, I love you all 💖💖🥰😘
What the Iconic Painting, “The Two Fridas,” Actually Tells Us About Frida Kahlo
I never painted dreams. I painted my own reality. —Frida Kahlo
You may be forgiven for assuming you already know everything there is to know about Frida Kahlo.
The subject of a high profile bio-pic, a bilingual opera, and numerous books for children and adults, her image is nearly as ubiquitous as Marilyn Monroe’s, though Frida exercised a great deal of control over hers by painting dozens of unsmiling self-portraits in which her unplucked unibrow and her traditional Tehuana garb feature prominently.
(Whether she would appreciate having her image splashed across shower curtains, light switch covers, yoga mats, and t-shirts is another matter, and one even a force as formidable as she would be hard pressed to control from beyond the grave. Her immediately recognizable countenance powers every souvenir stall in Mexico City’s Coyoacán neighborhood, where Casa Azul, the home in which she both was born and died, attracts some 25,000 visitors monthly.)
A recent episode of PBS’ digital series The Art Assignment, above, examines the duality at Frida’s core by using her double self-portrait,The Two Fridas(Las Dos Fridas), as a jumping off place.
Kahlo herself explained that the traditionally dressed figure on the right is the one her just-divorced ex-husband, muralist Diego Rivera had loved, while the unloved one on the left fails to keep the untethered vein uniting them from soiling her Victorian wedding gown. (The vein, originates on the right, rising from a small childhood portrait of Rivera, that was among Kahlo’s personal effects when she died.)
It’s an expression of loneliness and yet, the twin-like figures are depicted tenderly clasping each other’s hands:
Bereft but comforted
Fractured but intact
Lonely but not isolated
Broken but beautiful
Humiliated but proud
Kahlo’s boundaries, it suggests, are highly permeable, in life, as in art, drawing from such influences as Bronzino, El Greco, Modigliani, Surrealism, and Catholic iconography in both European religious painting and Mexican folk art.
As for the new thing learned, this writer was unaware that when Kahlo married Rivera—her elder by 22 years—in a 1929 civil ceremony, she did so in skirt and blouse borrowed from her indigenous maid… a fact which speaks to the end of her popularity in certain quarters.
Hi, my dear friends. I must apologize for my failures in the last post, as I noticed them in the night in bed!! Anyway, I have a serious situation this time as I have to work and coordinate my household; my wife is a woman of the world. Just let’s begin.
As I mentioned in the first part, it’s not easy to be born and grow up by sensible parents; a writer as a father with a lot of wishes and dreams and a bookworm as a mother whose biggest wish was to be left alone in a room fulfil with books and glass water and a loaf of bread would be enough for her!
Mother in everlasting position, Dreaming.
Here, man can say that God saves the soul! And yes, my childhood was based on a lot of trauma. Especially after my father died, it became much more complicated, but the very beginning;
It is, of course, not so much to explain; I have written there about in my some memories a time of love, happiness, a time of also, strike, strife, discord and again love and forgiveness.
You might read my post, “A CHARACTERISTIC LOVE STORY.” There, I have described the crazy beginning of this family’s foundation, which can result in mostly chaotic high-spiritual tensions in our lives.
Let’s begin after the father’s death because I can remember better. I don’t know why; maybe because I had to work on this. My father died the night after we returned from a wedding ceremony very late at night, and both “Al and I” knew nothing about what happened. In the morning, Mother told us he had travelled (He did travel often, but surely not after a party where he was almost drunk!). This wrong announcement was acceptable to me, but for Al, it wasn’t enough. He was a thinker even 9 at age ( I was 7 when my father left this Earth.), but of course, we both took it as a fact and, according to the mother’s order, went to the uncle’s house with a pool a big garden and so on and on. It was an offer which no child could refuse.
Those were the days, I’d bet! 😉
The main tension began after this time because Al was almost sure there was something wrong with this and me, the bloody child; I might have mentioned something but surely wanted rather ignore it! Therefore, it began a funny, and it might be better to say a tragic play between us three: Mother, Al and Me, and it was and still remains a trauma, which I will try to tell you about next. Thank you to all who read this, and forgive me for my failure. Take care and be safe. 🙏💖🙏
To view Francina’s post, click on pic! 
lampmagician 
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