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The Art Of Living Journal
Scribbling mostly for myself...sharing some of it with you
Scribbling mostly for myself...sharing some of it with you


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Drop by and say hello at my new address...I’m home most of the time. If not, leave me a note...Doc
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Journal Entry: 12/06/18
A goodbye to my virtual friends

I have been trying to decide what to do with my virtual friends circle on Google Plus. There are about three hundred of you that fit that description and as I decide how to depart my loyal Google family, I must honor that friendship in someway.

We have shown each other our weaknesses, shared our sorrows and difficulties, and along the way we celebrated our humanness. You have been reassuring, and at times made me laugh at myself when I may have been inclined to self pity.

I'm not sure what we mean when we call each other friends on G+? I can't meet you for lunch or call you up to just see how you are doing, but we greet each other with the same robust greetings and salutations as we do our reality friends. So it is only fitting we make our parting special in some way.

Through it all you have made me smile, read my quirky thoughts and given me affirmation. The affirmation, that humans with like interest, passion and desires will always find each other.

You have shown me lessons about humanity and created your essence for me to admire. Seems we all have an essence, and just so happens that your essence matched a like perception in my brain and that formed a relationship between two and then many.

Yes, we want human contact and attention, we want our goodness exposed, our happiness pursued. We want to be noticed and feel important. The pure excitement of knowing you can reach to the other side of the world and find a friend. Does that not make for a great conversation of possibilities about our humanity?

Many lessons I have learned from you my friend. I don't look at things with as much certainty. I try to see the humanness in every person I meet, the beauty in nature, the goodness in all, the hope in children as I try harder to hear what they have to say. I better understand the dark sides of humanity and yes, respect their thoughts. I sense kindness more and try to extend my hand more often.
I know friendship is the discovery of your ownself in others and such delight in that enduring recognition. That is a reason to be happy.

I finally understand there are no secrets, no answers to support our yearning to understand... No one has the answers and it's my own responsibility for deciding which ones are worth while and which ones are malignant...just life and how well we adjust and live, with a little intention thrown in.

Kindness was prevalent, and your goodness was exposed. The quality of your gentle and compassionate nature always gave me pause. Everyone different, but really all the same...

The one distinction that stands out about you is your intention to share your sense of beauty, your expressions of gratitude and your experience of forgiveness... all in an effort to just make it thru the day so you can get up and do it again...for that my dear friends I am grateful.

There are points in all our lives when we will move beyond the search for our self and realize we are all "The Self". Just a common humanity that we all share.

Great friends from all over the world...I loved your creations, your being and our shared effort just to be noticed. You have helped me make many new distinctions. For that I am grateful...It is time to change my latitude for a spell, thanks to Google. I wish you well and much ease in this life...always make peace with yourself and just get along with it all.

Farewell but not good bye. Catch my post on I will post occasionally when I think I have something to say...

Now I give back the keys to my door
I have my leave. I bid you farewell, my brothers, my sisters.
I bow to you all and take my departure,
and I give up all claims to this house.

I only hope for kind thoughts from you,
As the kindness I see in you.
We were neighbors for long,
and I received more than I could give.

Now the day has dawned
and the lamp that lit my dark corner is out.
A summons has come and I am ready for another journey...Doc
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Sending you my warm wishes from heart to heart and wish you a very Happy Thanksgiving! May this day be a beautiful reminder of the wonderful things in life...see you after the holidays. Hope you will drop by...Doc

”The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.” Dalai Lama
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From The Road Series...The Maestro

It's strange the people we pass and yet not experience...if only we look in their silence we might hear the echoes of their life. Such was a time on this cold and gray autumn day...

As I passed his fingers were pressing the silent keys with loving art, and the flute he was caressing with the silence of his heart. "Play something for me maestro"...

in his fading eyes was a story of life that was written fair.
The morning sun glowing and warmed the winter in his hair.
There was a glow of un extinguished embers deep in his eyes,
as he nodded and begin to smile.

A youthful smile. Strange how all the silver marrows still have a golden yesterday.

Now the flutist, bowed and slender no longer marks the time to the baton's lead, but he begin to breathe a message tender through his mind and that mellow reed.

The melody came with the wisdom of the ages,
pulsing with the ebb and flow.
It was a sages from a land so long ago.

His fading eyes were a story of a glowing sun that warmed the winter... in his sanctified days of yore, and yes, tender reverence of a glorious score.

The sound strolled down the street through the flute's narrow ally, as he pressed the silent keys with loving art and the silence of his heart...
melody laden with the lore of a life that was written fair, as the hair..every movement he rendered and the slender instrument echoed again
where love and youth once strolled, breathing out his soul and his fingers and the flute he was caressing... a silence from the heart.

May you and the silence of your heart never part...Doc

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Journal Entry: 11/15/18
Red sky by morning...

I am often asked; “What you been up to?
"Oh not much. Just trying to be present.”

Sometimes, in the sweet spot where day meets night, you catch cloud formations drifting in off the gulf. I have seen thousands of them and they are all intriguing and unique in their own way. They remind me that we are constantly traveling in a much larger space, on this spaceship called Earth.

Sometimes, probably depending on my state of mind, or state of being, I see an unusual formation that makes me stop, contemplate. In my mind, it may be a succubus, a giant squid, a stray nebula, a wraith seeking shelter before the full light arrives. Or, it could be a civet, gently pawing a dangling bergamot as a parade passes on the Champs-Élysées in the 8th arrondissement—with the aroma of baking bread, street crepes, and cigarettes.

Much like any new day, clouds can be anything we want them to be. If we use our imaginations, and ignore the noise, we can begin to shape our own reality. We are free to do this. It is part of what makes us human.

If your day is cloudy, I hope you find a way to enjoy it. Be a trapeze artist, a shoemaker with a puppet, or just sing something, even if only you can hear it.
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The Christopher Bryson Series

Abraham Lincoln carried a harmonica in his pocket, and harmonicas were played by soldiers on both sides of the American Civil War. Frontiersmen Wyatt Earp and Billy the Kid played. In the mid-1920s DeFord Bailey made mouth harp recordings, and duo recordings with guitarists Hammie Nixon, Walter Horton, and Sonny Terry. In 1925 there were 50 harmonicas on the White House Christmas tree.

These tears fall from my eyes,
as the rain falls from the sky.

I walk through the rain,
so you can't see me cry.

But only when the rain drops fall from the sky,
so you can't see the things that I hide.

Robert Louis DiTullio, Jr.
Harmonica Player
Faubourg Tremé
New Orleans, Louisiana
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Your guess is good as mine...

They say, or at least some say, that development of neural patterns in our outer layer of the brain, has allowed for better processing of vision and auditory patterns. It’s that spacial awareness, for example, we use on our morning walks, remembering the songs of birds, and sensing any pattern of uneasiness that something may be going array. All these patterns reside there, just to increase our chances of survival.

The most basic approach to human pattern recognition. is a theory that assumes that everything we see is stored as a “template” into some long-term crevice in our brain. Then, all this incoming stuff we receive is compared to these templates to find an exact match, and if not, something similar in pattern. It seems to do this little number just to scare the carp out of us at times. Funny as it seems, that’s what the brain does. It regulates our inner stuff to match the incoming stuff.

In other words, all the stuff we see is compared to multiple template cartoons in our brain so we can form one single conceptual picture of what the hell is going on. Our own little movie, in a sense.

Now if this theory is true, it assumes that everything we see, we understand only through past exposure, which then informs our future perception of the external world. Would it not?... Now, how screwed up is that? And we call ourselves Sane...:)

On a more positive note...our wisdom is derived from these patterns of recognition called...knowledge templates. The more you “knowledge” from your experiences, the more at ease you will be with Living life. You have wisdom stored like temples in the form of background information. It answers the question of Happiness from a different perspective. We should explore happiness not as a pleasurable feeling but as a way of being that gives you the resources to deal with the ups and downs of life. And that encompasses many emotional states, including sadness.

So it appears your brain always begins with your previous knowledge, and makes predictions due to this already acquired knowledge. It is estimated however, that about 90% of the information is lost between the time it takes to go from the eye to brain and that is why the brain must guess what the person sees based on past experiences. (who in the hell ever came up with that?) ;) You guessed it...your guess is good as mine.

I observe these little ones on my morning walk...not sure why, but that behavior of standing on one leg seems to be a pattern, as I see it often...enjoy your day, my virtual friends...Doc
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Journal Entry:11/1/18
A new day...a new month...a new thought, perhaps.

Just being there, she was a sort of music, perhaps a garden canticle. Half-painted and never moving, she gripped her urn like a victory cup, waiting. Watching the garden forever, for the entirety of her life, the ancient South American staghorns, magnolia, jasmine, sweet olive, the iron gate, and masonry of the place were always safe. But she never went inside the garden itself. I never saw her inside. That is how it was for her, for me.

"Walked for half an hour in the garden. A fine rain was falling, and the landscape was that of autumn. The sky was hung with various shades of gray, and mists hovered about the distant green of a melancholy nature. The leaves were falling on all sides like the last illusions of youth under the tears of irremediable grief. A brood of chattering birds were chasing each other through the shrubberies, and playing games among the branches, like a knot of hiding schoolboys. Every landscape is, as it were, a state of the soul, and whoever penetrates into both is astonished to find how much likeness there is in each detail."
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“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.” —Shakespeare, Macbeth

Ms. Joanne, window shopping
Halloween morning
French Quarter
New Orleans
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The Christopher Bryson Series

I have been engaged in a project for a couple of years which involves making pictures of people in the morning, working, on their way to work, coming home from work. This happens mostly in the French Quarter of New Orleans. I try to get a picture every day, sometimes more than one.

The people I meet make my days better—they deepen my connection with other people and make my constellation of experience more broad. My life has become richer for it. They inspire me in a way that is difficult to describe with words. I am not certain about the 'why' of it, but I think I make pictures of them so that I can carry them forever to remember that it was real, and it was good. It was honest.

The women who do domestic work in hotels are paid to be invisible. When they are out on the street, they are anything but. I'm glad about that.

PLUS, Hotel Maiden
Canal Street
New Orleans, LA

From The Labor Suite: How We Work
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