I am traveling along with Leonardo - I'm told most ideas I come across will become part of the quest to be more of what I am . . .
You are invited - to become yourSelf, too.
I found a quote from poetry by Sir Stephen Spender - here's my version: lips touched with fire, tell of the spirit clothed head to foot in song . . .
This sounds a little like me - so, I'm going to embrace these ideas -
* remember * develop * apply *
them to my life.
Here's a Leonardo Quote (in English - i am not prepared to learn Italian . . . )
"People of peace, men and women of desire, such is the splendor of the Temple in which you will one day have the right to take your place. Such privilege should astonish you less, however, than your ability to commence building it down here, your ability, in fact, to adorn it at every moment of your existence. Remember the saying 'as above, so below', and contribute to this by making 'as below, so above'."
It was a quirky family of artists. Performing Artists, the colorful kind of folk. They lived a bit like 20th Century Gypsies, one motel after another, six weeks here, six weeks there, making very few outside friends, carrying their talent and accompanying secrets with them - everywhere they went.
My brother had the full taste of this life, while i was passed from family to family over the years. I got to visit them on occasion. Fall was an interesting time, it's a season full of magical inspiration.
Halloween was approaching and our mother was filled with ideas. She finally decided my brother should be a robot. She gathered boxes, Tape, markers, fuses (for eyes), springs, wires, anything that fit the idea of her creation. She worked in secret for days and on Halloween evening presented my brother with the robot costume and a trick or treat bag.
There were no breathing holes, no eye holes and, my brother was to tall for her creation. She had a quick remedy for the size issue, she merely taped more cardboard around the legs, once he was inside. The next problem came when he moved. With every movement tape popped and boxes came undone.
Our mother started to shriek about how ungrateful her children were, destroying her hard work.
She never understood he could not see, or breath, or move. She explained (as if we were simple-minded) that i was there, so i could guide my brother around from house to house.
We escaped the motel, my brother popping apart with every move, scared out of his wits. Finally we found our way around the back of the building and hid in a janitorial closet. We stayed there until it was safe to return to the room and get some sleep.
Linked to Mama Kat's pretty much world famous writer's workshop.