Tête-à-Tête

Royals & Tiara's

2007-08-05T00:06:00.000-07:00

Tiara's have been worn by Royal ladies for generations. Here is a look at many of them, some of which were orignally worn by the Russian Royal families and Nobility before the Revolution.

1: Princess Margaret

1: The first Tiara is known as the Poltimore Tiara which the English Royal family bought for Princess Margaret. After her death the children of Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon sold this spectacular Tiara.

2: The Second Tiara belongs to the present Queen and was originally bought by Queen Mary from the Russian Royal family. It is known as the Vladimir Tiara.

3: The Third Tiara is worn by Queen Paola of Belgium.

4: The fourth Tiara is worn bythe newly married Princess Mary of Denmark. The magnificent suite was once owned by Queen Ingrid of Denmark.

5: the fifth Tiara is worn by Queen Rania of Jordan.

6: The sixth Tiara is worn by the late Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother. It was made up of diamonds from Africa. Which were given to the Royal family as a gift.

Miranda

2007-08-04T23:49:00.000-07:00

The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet,

And laid him kneeling at thy feet.

But, -- guerdon rich for favor rare!

The wind hath all thy holy hair

To kiss and to sing through and to flare

Like torch-flames in the passionate air,

About thee, O Miranda.

Eyes in a blaze, eyes in a daze,

Bold with love, cold with amaze,

Chaste-thrilling eyes, fast-filling eyes

With daintiest tears of love's surprise,

Ye draw my soul unto your blue

As warm skies draw the exhaling dew,

Divine eyes of Miranda.

And if I were yon stolid stone,

Thy tender arm doth lean upon,

Thy touch would turn me to a heart,

And I would palpitate and start,

-- Content, when thou wert gone, to be

A dumb rock by the lonesome sea

Forever, O Miranda.

The Invitation

2007-07-23T03:37:00.000-07:00

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for

and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool

for love

for your dream

for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...

I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow

if you have been opened by life’s betrayals

or have become shrivelled and closed

from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain

mine or your own

without moving to hide it

or fade it

or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy

mine or your own

if you can dance with wildness

and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes

without cautioning us

to be careful

to be realistic

to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me

is true.

I want to know if you can

disappoint another

to be true to yourself.

If you can bear the accusation of betrayal

and not betray your own soul.

If you can be faithless

and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty

even when it is not pretty

every day.

And if you can source your own life

from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure

yours and mine

and still stand at the edge of the lake

and shout to the silver of the full moon,

“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me

to know where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up

after the night of grief and despair

weary and bruised to the bone

and do what needs to be done

to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know

or how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand

in the centre of the fire

with me

and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom

you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you

from the inside

when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone

with yourself

and if you truly like the company you keep

in the empty moments.

A Dream Within A Dream

2007-07-20T23:52:00.000-07:00

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow--

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand--

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep--while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

by Edgar Allan Poe

We

2007-07-20T23:47:00.000-07:00

The Holy Spirit will guide us and the powers of hell will not prevail against us. In this promise of Jesus, the Church, as a living community of believers, discovers its bearings and its hope as it marches through the ages. The mysterious movements of the Spirit make the Church holy; the faltering strivings of its members make the Church human. Together the Church is whole. The Body of Christ functions in ways too numerous to treat fairly in this article. We, however, are capable of rallying to its mission to proclaim the good news for the salvation of souls, to recognize its power to sanctify and to heal all who seek its graces, to support its efforts to serve those in need, and to accept its invitation to intimacy with Christ.

The liturgical seasons with its feasts and solemnities highlight the glories, the struggles, the pathways, and the pitfalls characterizing the journey of the faithful. Being a member of the Body of Christ is not for the weak and the variable. Ironically, it is material such as this that the Lord chooses and fills with the courage and strength of the Spirit. From this labor the great personages of the Church have arisen. These men and women have impressed on the pages of human history the mark of Christ still active. And from their efforts, an untold multitude of faithful have followed them giving to the world Christ's presence.

Everyone wants to feel a sense of accomplishment in life, an awareness of having contributed to some higher purpose. The world's models of success and achievement have their rightful place, but not the place. Someday, all of the laurels of victory will fade. It is then that, in all humility, we would like to be assured that we have done well in the eyes of God. We hope that we have given to life something that has mattered, that has eternal significance in the unfolding of God's plan. In our own small way, we would wish our life to be judged to have moved the Body of Christ along its destined path.

The double-edged swords of freedom and power are wielded by all throughout their lives. The ends for which these gifts are used either aid in realizing God's plan or result in frustrating it. The fruits of God's love are available to all. In total freedom of will, one must choose to possess it or to reject it. How risky and yet how wise is that divine strategy. One must own one's faith and take the responsibility for making that faith visible or to discard it and accept the consequences of a Godless existence. Love is the product of a freely disposed heart and mind. God bears the risk of not being given the love of His creation and His creation bears the effect of refusing that love.

Christ and the Church: If he were to apply for a divorce on the grounds of cruelty, adultery, and desertion, he probably would get one.

- Samuel Butler

In spite of the traitorous acts of some, the Church produces abundantly those who are truly heroic, sacrificial, and good. Holiness is a crown dearly won. People of a secular mind, lacking faith, are quickest to pick up stones to fling at the faithful who have stumbled in their moral lives. How odd that those who apply few or no moral norms to themselves demand perfection of others. In my opinion, they simply are attempting to validate the dead creeds of their lives by castigating those who are seeking the truths of a living faith. Warts and all, give me the devout believer every time.

The panoply of virtues and vices lies before us. These moral options in life are like colors from which we choose in creating our self-portrait. The Church is a vital community committed to choosing wisely. Yet, as members of that community, we often choose foolishly. Thus, the image of the Church as a great hospital to which the casualties of life may come to have their wounds bound and find healing is most apt. Credit must be given to those who have chosen correctly. For those, the image of the Church as a juggernaut smashing through all obstacles, sailing toward a holy port would suffice. Metaphors, notwithstanding, we thank God for the Church's presence - our presence - as a beacon in a world so often devoid of light.

We live in every land, we speak every language, we encompass all races, and we worship the One - as one people. Let us then cling tightly to the hand of the Holy Spirit and pray for the love and wisdom, the help and hope, the healing and assurance that only the living God can bestow on the living force that are His people, His Church. We!

By Rev. Raymond Petrucci

Vincent and Vincent

2007-07-16T23:29:00.000-07:00

This is so beautiful, a marriage of art and music. The paintings of Vincent Van Gough set to the song Vincent ( Starry Starry Night), as sung by Josh Groban.

I know why the caged bird sings

2007-07-16T23:24:00.000-07:00

A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.

Maya Angelou

Star Light, Star Bright

2007-07-16T23:23:00.000-07:00

Star, that gives a gracious dole,
What am I to choose?
Oh, will it be a shriven soul,
Or little buckled shoes?

Shall I wish a wedding-ring,
Bright and thin and round,
Or plead you send me covering-
A newly spaded mound?

Gentle beam, shall I implore
Gold, or sailing-ships,
Or beg I hate forevermore
A pair of lying lips?

Swing you low or high away,
Burn you hot or dim;
My only wish I dare not say-
Lest you should grant me him.

Dorothy Parker

A Peek into Clarence House

2007-07-08T22:43:00.001-07:00

The first room is the Garden room and the Second room is called the Morning Room.

Clarence House for many years was the home of H.M Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother. Upon her death her favourite grandchild HRH The Prince of Wales with his wife the Duchess of Cornwall now live there with Prince's William and Harry.

The pictures show the transformation after Prince Charles with the help of his wife renovated and redecorated Clarence House to their own taste.

My Wild Irish Rose

2007-07-04T03:14:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you a tale of old

a-fore when I

Was a rambling and a roaming then

Upon the heather way,

I was a searching for my one true love

To charm for ever and a day.

Where could I but find her

Those illusive flowing locks of raven hair,

A soft rosey cheek complexion

Of a tender skin so fair

For the brave to be a having.. but ne're do or dare.

But, I dreamt of her so

For I thought she would bear me up above

On angels wings

To a land of sadness never seen.

Well.. one evening I thought I had but spied her

A running wildly through the glen,

Her eyes all alight as diamonds

Her garment a-blowing in the wind

Then, the mist but up and shrouded her, afar,

fleeing from me then.

As the moonlight painted shadows

flickered 'neath the sighing tree

Eerie in luminous floating mist,

I struggled through the grasping bracken

Fearing of rocks below all dark and hallowed

Her footstep not to miss.

The fog did but lift as the clouds scudded by the moon

I saw the face of an angel glowing

tipped up toward the sky to croon

Not a moment too soon,

I discovered perfection delight

Casting a most wondrous silhouette

I gazed transfixed in that light,

Never had I been a feared

In the still of that vivid night.

My breath I now held and was about to cry out,

When the mist blew there across my sight

And I stumbled sharp and fell.

The moon smiled at my folly, as it sailed on it's way

For ne'er then could I find her once more

For be-sure, she vanished without trace

And I am but left,

with my story to tell

Of the sweetest touch of amazing grace.

My wild Irish Rose.

A Lighted Candle

2007-07-04T03:12:00.001-07:00

The lighted candle in the window is an Old Irish custom to show that Joseph and Mary, who found no room at the Inn in Bethlehem, would be welcome in the house. The large white Christmas Candle, known as "Coinneal na Nollaig" which is decorated with Holly and lit by the youngest child in the family at six o’clock on Christmas Eve.

Will You be There?

2007-07-03T00:25:00.000-07:00

Will you be there? my yearning heart has cried:

Ah me, my love, my love, shall I be there,

To sit down in your glory and to share

Your gladness, glowing as a virgin bride?

Or will another dearer, fairer-eyed,

Sit nigher to you in your j ubilee;

And mindful one of other will you be

Borne higher and higher on joy's ebbless tide?

Yea, if I love I will not grudge you this:

I too shall float upon that heavenly sea

And sing my joyful praises without ache;

Your overflow of joy shall gladden me,

My whole heart shall sing praises for your sake

And find its own fulfilment in your bliss.

Christina Rossetti

Mrs Beeton-A Life

2007-07-03T00:22:00.000-07:00

Isabella Mary Mayson (1836-1865), universally known as Mrs Beeton, was the author of Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management and is the most famous cookery writer in British history.

Isabella was born at 24 Milk Street, Cheapside, London. Her father Benjamin Mason died when she was young and her mother Elizabeth Jerram remarried a Henry Dorling. She was sent to school in Heidelberg in Germany and afterward returned to her stepfather's home in Epsom.

On a visit to London she was introduced to Samuel Orchard Beeton, a publisher of books and popular magazines, and on July 10, 1856 they were married. She began to write articles on cooking and household management for her husband's publications and between 1859 and 1861 she wrote a monthly supplement to The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine. The supplements were subsequently published in October 1861 as a single volume entitled - The Book of Household Management Comprising various information for the Mistress, Housekeeper, Cook, Kitchen-Maid, Butler etc, – also Sanitary, Medical, & Legal Memoranda: with a History of the Origin, Properties, and Uses of all Things Connected with Home Life and Comfort.

The book (usually referred to as Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management) was essentially a guide to running a Victorian era household. It contained advice on fashion, child-care, animal husbandry, poisons, the management of servants, science, religion, industrialism and a very large number of recipes (it is often called Mrs Beeton's Cookbook). Of the 1,112 pages over 900 contained recipes. Most of the recipes were illustrated with coloured engravings and it was the first book to show recipes in a format that is still used today.

After giving birth to her fourth child in January 1865, Isabella contracted puerperal fever and died a week later at age 28.

Sophies Choice-HRH. Countess of Wessex

2007-06-30T01:37:00.000-07:00

The introduction of Sophie Rhys Jones into the rather claustrophobic world of the Royal family may be the fresh air they need.

Sophie seems to have the common sense lacking in the previous Duchess of York and is not consumed by the vulnerabilities of the late Princess of Wales.

She also seems to have struck just the right chord with her rather austere mother in Law, Her Majesty the Queen, and also won the admiration of her caustic Father in Law the Duke of Edinburgh, quite an achievement for the girl from Brenchley.

One also has to admire Sophie's courage in her longing for a family even if it puts her own health at risk, which was the case with two of her pregnancies. One pregnancy unfortunately for both Sophie and Edward was an ecoptic pregnancy and the other nearly cost Sophie her life! Though all ended well with the birth of their beloved daughter, Lady Louise Mountbatten Windsor.

It seems out of the three Windsor men, it is Edward's marriage that may succeed where both Charles and Andrew failed. This is due to Sophie’s common sense factor and her willingness to embrace the Royal lifestyle without needing to be the centre of attention.

The Countess of Wessex is also not overly concerned with her image, though she dresses well, she also will not allow herself to be a slave to fashion. Sophie also hasn’t fallen into the 'perfect figure syndrome' that helped make both the Duchess of York and the Princess of Wales, so unhappy and open to neurosis.

Sophie seems to have the confidence that her former sister in laws lacked and that is probably due to her husbands love and acceptance of her as a unique woman who is essential to his happiness. Prince Edward may have learned some valuable lessons from his brother’s disastrous marriages and that of his sister Anne, in that he supports Sophie in all she does and the same goes for Sophie who supports Edward in his enterprises.

They seem to be a couple who are happy in their domestic arrangements and their daughter is the centre of their lives as they live out the domestic bliss that Charles and Andrew missed out on.

Unlike the failed marriage of Charles, Andrew and Anne, it seems Sophie and Edward are traveling the same path, and in the right direction.

Let us hope that all continues to go well for the future life of Their Royal Highnesses The Earl and Countess of Wessex.

Touched by An Angel

2007-06-30T01:28:00.000-07:00

We, unaccustomed to courage

exiles from delight

live coiled in shells of loneliness

until love leaves its high holy temple

and comes into our sight

to liberate us into life.

Love arrives

and in its train come ecstasies

old memories of pleasure

ancient histories of pain.

Yet if we are bold,

love strikes away the chains of fear

from our souls.

We are weaned from our timidity

In the flush of love's light

we dare be brave

And suddenly we see

that love costs all we are

and will ever be.

Yet it is only love

which sets us free.

Maya Angelou

Art by Akiane

2007-06-26T23:16:00.000-07:00

Found this video presentation of Akiane's artwork. Enjoy!

Akiane - Child Artist

2007-06-26T23:15:00.000-07:00

Akiane Kramarik is a young prodigy from Sandpoint, Idaho, who has been drawing and painting lifelike artwork since she was 4.

Mother's Love

On My Knees

To see more of Akiane's paintings click here.

The Haunting Diary of Rutka Laskier

2007-06-25T00:56:00.000-07:00

The diary of a 14-year-old Jewish girl dubbed the "Polish Anne Frank" was unveiled on Monday, chronicling the horrors she witnessed in a Jewish ghetto — at one point watching a Nazi soldier tear a Jewish baby away from his mother and kill him with his bare hands.

The diary, written by Rutka Laskier in 1943 shortly before she was deported to Auschwitz, was released by Israel's Holocaust museum more than 60 years after she recorded what is both a daily account of the horrors of the Holocaust in Bedzin, Poland and a memoir of the life of a teenager in extraordinary circumstances.

"The rope around us is getting tighter and tighter," the teenager wrote in 1943, shortly before she was deported to Auschwitz. "I'm turning into an animal waiting to die."

Within a few months Rutka was dead and, it seemed, her diary lost. But last year, a Polish friend who had saved the notebook finally came forth, exposing a riveting historical document.

Rutka's Notebook . The 60-page memoir includes innocent adolescent banter, concerns and first loves — combined with a cold analysis of the fate of European Jewry.

"I simply can't believe that one day I will be allowed to leave this house without the yellow star. Or even that this war will end one day. If this happens I will probably lose my mind from joy," she wrote on Feb. 5, 1943.

"The little faith I used to have has been completely shattered. If God existed, He would have certainly not permitted that human beings be thrown alive into furnaces, and the heads of little toddlers be smashed with gun butts or shoved into sacks and gassed to death."

Reports of the gassing of Jews, which were not common knowledge in the West by then, apparently had filtered into the Bedzin ghetto, which was near Auschwitz, Yad Vashem experts said.

The following day she opened her entry with a heated description of her hatred toward her Nazi tormentors. But then, in an effortless transition, she described her crush on a boy named Janek and the anticipation of a first kiss.

"I think my womanhood has awoken in me. That means, yesterday when I was taking a bath and the water stroked my body, I longed for someone's hands to stroke me," she wrote. "I didn't know what it was, I have never had such sensations until now."

Later that day, she shifted back to her harsh reality, describing how she watched as a Nazi soldier tore a Jewish baby away from his mother and killed him with his bare hands.

The diary chronicles Rutka's life from January to April 1943. She shared it with her friend Stanislawa Sapinska, who she met after Rutka's family moved into a home owned by Sapinska's family, which had been confiscated by the Nazis to be included in the Bedzin ghetto. Sapinska came to inspect the house and the girls — one Jewish, one Christian — formed a deep bond.

When Rutka feared she would not survive, she told her friend about the diary. Sapinska offered to hide it in the basement under the floorboards. After the war, she returned to reclaim it.

"She wanted me to save the diary," Sapinska, now in her 80s, recalled Monday. "She said 'I don't know if I will survive, but I want the diary to live on, so that everyone will know what happened to the Jews.'"

In 1943, Rutka was the same age as Anne Frank, the Dutch teenager whose Holocaust diary has become one of the most widely read books in the world. Yad Vashem said Rutka's newly discovered diary was authenticated by experts and Holocaust survivors.

Rutka's father, Yaakov, was the family's only survivor. He died in 1986. But unlike Anne Frank's father, he kept his painful past inside. After the war, he moved to Israel, where he started a new family. His Israeli daughter, Zahava Sherz, said her father never spoke of his other children, and the diary introduced her to the long-lost family she never knew.

"I was struck by this deep connection to Rutka," said Sherz, 57. "I was an only child, and now I suddenly have an older sister. This black hole was suddenly filled, and I immediately fell in love with her."

"I have a feeling that I am writing for the last time,There is an Aktion [a Nazi arrest operation] in town. I'm not allowed to go out and I'm going crazy, imprisoned in my own house. For a few days, something's in the air. The town is breathlessly waiting in anticipation, and this anticipation is the worst of all. I wish it would end already! This torment; this is hell." Rutka wrote on Feb. 20, 1943, as Nazi soldiers began gathering Jews outside her home for deportation.

"I wish it would end already! This torment; this is hell. I try to escape from these thoughts of the next day, but they keep haunting me like nagging flies. If only I could say, it's over, you only die once ... but I can't, because despite all these atrocities, I want to live, and wait for the following day.That means waiting for Auschwitz or labour camp. I must not think about this so now I'll start writing about private matters."However, Rutka would write again. Her last entry was dated April 24, 1943, and her last written words were: "I'm very bored. The entire day I'm walking around the room. I have nothing to do."

In August, she and her family were sent to Auschwitz, where she is believed to have been killed upon arrival.

As I Walked Out One Evening

2007-06-25T00:41:00.000-07:00

As I walked out one evening,

Walking down Bristol Street,

The crowds upon the pavement

Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river

I heard a lover sing

Under an arch of the railway:

“Love has no ending.

“I’ll love you, dear, I’ll love you

Till China and Africa meet,

And the river jumps over the mountain

And the salmon sing in the street,

“I’ll love you till the ocean

Is folded and hung up to dry

And the seven stars go squawking

Like geese about the sky.

“The years shall run like rabbits,

For in my arms I hold

The Flower of the Ages,

And the first love of the world.”

But all the clocks in the city

Began to whirr and chime:

“O let not Time deceive you,

You cannot conquer Time.

“In the burrows of the Nightmare

Where Justice naked is,

Time watches from the shadow

And coughs when you would kiss.

“In headaches and in worry

Vaguely life leaks away,

And Time will have his fancy

To-morrow or to-day.

“Into many a green valley

Drifts the appalling snow;

Time breaks the threaded dances

And the diver’s brilliant bow.

“O plunge your hands in water,

Plunge them in up to the wrist;

Stare, stare in the basin

And wonder what you’ve missed.

“The glacier knocks in the cupboard,

The desert sighs in the bed,

And the crack in the tea-cup opens

A lane to the land of the dead.

“Where the beggars raffle the banknotes

And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,

And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,

And Jill goes down on her back.

“O look, look in the mirror?

O look in your distress:

Life remains a blessing

Although you cannot bless.

“O stand, stand at the window

As the tears scald and start;

You shall love your crooked neighbour

With your crooked heart.”

It was late, late in the evening,

The lovers they were gone;

The clocks had ceased their chiming,

and the deep river ran on.

W.H. Auden

Idols or God? 2 Women 2 Choices

2007-06-24T00:04:00.000-07:00

Princess Diana was one of the most famous people of the twentieth century, and sadly one of the saddest. Her search to bring some meaning to her life in order for herself to feel validated was at times tragic, this is a case in point of choosing false idols in the vain hope of attaining happiness.

We all know that the princess had numerous affairs, should we judge her for this? No, she simply like most of us wanted to be loved for herself. She probably also felt an emptiness within her heart and soul, it is on record how many psychics and health gurus this poor lady relied upon. And I am sure she searched with sincerity to find the one thing that would make her happy and at peace, princess Diana simply chose the `false idols' of the world which so many magazines propagate, she chose the wrong path.

Even though Diana chose badly she still tried her best to spread happiness to all those she met, but the emptiness within herself never dissipated. Diana had the worlds adulation, she had beauty and spent many millions on maintaining that beauty, she also paid a fortune to self help gurus and psychics. All this money spent on `outside' superficialities and none invested where it mattered within her soul. God does not charge for His Love. This lovely Princess had all the things that the world says will bring great happiness, yet, she remained lost and lonely, I pray now that she has finally found the love and acceptance with our Lord in Heaven that she could not find here on earth.

Mother theresa was born in a small village in Yugoslavia, in allreasoning this lady should have lived in obscurity, she was not stunningly beautiful, she had no wealth, no power, no title.

Then she entered her religious order and was sent to Ireland where she still remained in relative obscurity, from there she was sent to India as a teaching Sister.

Then she heard the `call within the call' and after prayer, she consulted her superiors, then waited for their answer, she eventually gained permission to leave this order and start her own. Many thought her mad, some thought her prideful, but this sister maintained her focus on Jesus and Him Crucified, her order 'The Sisters of Charity' is now world famous.

Yes! This lady also had the love and respect of almost all people, but she did not choose to be of the world even though she remained very definitely in the world. Mother Theresa chose the right path and kept her focus on God, and trusted in Him, even If at times her very life was threatened.

Mother Theresa also recognised the false idols of this world, and tried to raise the awareness of those who suffered the most from the worlds obsession with itself. Mother Theresa spoke about the most dreaded disease prevalent, to be unloved, unneeded and unwanted. There is nothing in the world that will give what the heart yearns for, she understood, that only God can ease that longing, the thirst and the yearning to be truly Loved.

Two great and famous ladies of the twentieth century. God Loved both equally. One lady lived her life never recognising the `false idols'. The other lady lived her life, recognised it and chose God.

Faces of Modern Day Saints

2007-06-24T00:02:00.000-07:00

So inspiring!

She Walks in Beauty

2007-06-23T23:55:00.000-07:00

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Lord Byron

Idols Or God?

2007-06-23T04:10:00.000-07:00

I think I can say with a degree of accuracy that many of us long fora deeper relationship, even a yearning to love and grasp that which is beyond our `knowing', and that is God.

We fight and struggle so much too come close to the God whom we love, but I wonder if we are fighting the `wrong' fight and using the wrong tools, and more often than not we are left in deep frustration, and a sense of failure.

Perhaps things would be clearer if we could understand that which we battle, for the war was and always will be within ourselves. To seek to love God with all our heart, mind and soul, without recognising the need to let go of the `false idols' that distract us and draw us away from our ultimate goal. Do we recognise these idols?

There are many `idols' which seek to divert or even seduce us away from that which we seek with all our hearts. What are these idols? Only the individual can answer that, these idols can be so subtle that we may fail to even acknowledge let alone perceive them for what they are. So we settle for the lesser gods rather than continue on the arduous journey of discovering `self' and then letting ` the self' go.

We settle for the comfortable, the ordinary and to be asone with everyone. When we do this we fail to realise by becoming as everyone we lose ourselves and substitute a god for God. This will not only lead us away from God, but into dysfunction and disordered love, where we place our security on the opinions of others, and make the impossible demand to be loved exclusively, we then become a burden to ourselves and to others. By placing this 'god' above God, we easily become disappointed , discontented and enslaved, in a failure to identify the false `idol' of becoming as everyone.

There are also times in our journey where we face antagonism from others, and focus our attention on self, and allow our feelings to rule, instead of being in control of our feelings, they become a 'god', and we feed this god by embarking on a journey of `proving'ourselves to whom?

Another `idol' is to believe we have already arrived, and we `know' God and have received all we need, we then become seekers no more, but settle for ones limited intellect, the self has become 'god'.

These `idols' are in everything where we have placed THE greatest importance, within our own merit, albiet: knowledge, material comfort, popularity, achievements, self EGO, power, prestige, dominance and the most seductive the need to control.

Even our prayers can be a god, when the need to be 'seen' as `holy' substitutes for the reality of one's need of God's Grace which is needed so as to become Holy. In order to allow God to penetrate into our souls we must first recognise our own sins and acknowledge that we too have failed God. God cannot fill a vessel that is 'perceived' as full by the soul that relies on it's own distorted 'intuition'.

Religiosity can also become a 'god', when we rely on rituals and thelaw of the Church rather than seeking a relationship with God. All these false gods encourage a false self and a person becomes that which it loves.

In recognising these substitute gods, we then begin the journey of reorientation we are then liberated from these attatchments. It isnot the world that is the problem, but in how we relate to the world, it is a shift in perspectives.

Jesus did not sequester Himself away during His Mission, He was in the world but not of the world, our Lord kept His heart focussed on God the Father. So as in Jesus we are not being called to `cast' aside the world nor abandon the world, God created us to live in the world but not be of the world. In order to be fulfilled in our yearning of God who is Love, we need to identify what is motivating us? Do we seek a 'god', or do we seek God?

The God who transforms, heals, liberates and enlivens us. Or do we wish to remain `comfortable'? Are we seeking what we want or do we ask ourselves, what does God want?

The Rose

2007-06-23T04:02:00.000-07:00

The lily has a smooth stalk,

Will never hurt your hand;

But the rose upon her brier

Is lady of the land.

There's sweetness in an apple tree,

And profit in the corn;

But lady of all beauty

Is a rose upon a thorn.

When with moss and honey

She tips her bending brier,

And half unfolds her glowing heart,

She sets the world on fire.

Christina Rossetti

Musical Magic- East Meets West

2007-06-20T21:50:00.000-07:00

Sting a native of England and Algerian raï singer Cheb Mami
create musical magic when these two styles of music fuse.
Pure and timeless musical magic!!!