“These, believe it or not, are the very best years of my life.” _ Mike Fremont
Mike Fremont is a 100-year-old runner. When he was 69, he was diagnosed with colon cancer and given three months to live. In response to that diagnosis and his research, he went “cold turkey” becoming100% vegan on a whole foods diet. I hope you’ll watch as much as you can of the inspiring interview below. Plus there’s an article from People here.
“Monumental gimmers” Hint at possibility fleeting yet never ending.
It’s been well over a year, maybe two, since I read the words, “monumental glimmers” on Trini Lind’s blog and apparently added the next two lines. I wish I could remember which of Trini’s posts they came from. Her words spoke to me of glimpses we get of something big and beautiful beyond our understanding, one of those magical things waiting for our wits to grow sharper.
We learn that we are neither devils nor divines….”
This quote is from Dr. Maya Angelou’s powerful poem, “A Brave and Startling Truth.”
We, this people, on a small and lonely planet Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns To a destination where all signs tell us It is possible and imperative that we learn A brave and startling truth
And when we come to it To the day of peacemaking When we release our fingers From fists of hostility And allow the pure air to cool our palms
When we come to it When the curtain falls on the minstrel show of hate And faces sooted with scorn are scrubbed clean When battlefields and coliseum No longer rake our unique and particular sons and daughters Up with the bruised and bloody grass To lie in identical plots in foreign soil
When the rapacious storming of the churches The screaming racket in the temples have ceased When the pennants are waving gaily When the banners of the world tremble Stoutly in the good, clean breeze
When we come to it When we let the rifles fall from our shoulders And children dress their dolls in flags of truce When land mines of death have been removed And the aged can walk into evenings of peace When religious ritual is not perfumed By the incense of burning flesh And childhood dreams are not kicked awake By nightmares of abuse
When we come to it Then we will confess that not the Pyramids With their stones set in mysterious perfection Nor the Gardens of Babylon Hanging as eternal beauty In our collective memory Not the Grand Canyon Kindled into delicious color By Western sunsets
Nor the Danube, flowing its blue soul into Europe Not the sacred peak of Mount Fuji Stretching to the Rising Sun Neither Father Amazon nor Mother Mississippi who, without favor, Nurture all creatures in the depths and on the shores These are not the only wonders of the world
When we come to it We, this people, on this minuscule and kithless globe Who reach daily for the bomb, the blade and the dagger Yet who petition in the dark for tokens of peace We, this people on this mote of matter In whose mouths abide cankerous words Which challenge our very existence Yet out of those same mouths Come songs of such exquisite sweetness That the heart falters in its labor And the body is quieted into awe
We, this people, on this small and drifting planet Whose hands can strike with such abandon That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness That the haughty neck is happy to bow And the proud back is glad to bend Out of such chaos, of such contradiction We learn that we are neither devils nor divines
When we come to it We, this people, on this wayward, floating body Created on this earth, of this earth Have the power to fashion for this earth A climate where every man and every woman Can live freely without sanctimonious piety Without crippling fear
When we come to it We must confess that we are the possible We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world That is when, and only when We come to it.”
I might have shared this before, but when I saw Linda’s One-Liner Wednesday topic of art, I couldn’t resist. Not that we have to stick to a topic. I just like the idea of being “dangerous” through art and mixing with all classes. I have seen this quote attributed to Queen Victoria.
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When I read the title of Linda’s post containing todays’ prompt, “Icy fingers,” I read it as “joy fingers,” because of the fancy font. Maybe that’s what I wanted to see – joy instead of icy. I do get icy fingers sometimes in the winter – a circulation issue perhaps or low thyroid, whatever. Joy fingers would be better. Joy fingers makes me think of massage for which I am way overdue.
Looking back over my drafted One-liner drafts, If found this quote on joy attributed to Hafiz, the poet of ancient wisdom.
“You carry within your soul every ingredient necessary to turn your existence into joy.”
Icy green fingers of hope
With joy from their souls.
JoAnna of the Forest
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