<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573</id><updated>2011-07-07T15:49:08.389-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Stilwell Reflections</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>6</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573.post-4569141108438374111</id><published>2011-06-23T03:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-23T03:09:59.521-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New Eyes?</title><content type='html'>I listened to a  Show on NPR talking about seeing and not seeing.  “They do research on something called inattentional blindness, or how people fail to see things that are directly in front of them when they're focused on something else.”  Here are results of their study. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I’m discussing is something a little different.  I’m talking about seeing something so often you no longer “see” it.  I’m speaking of the blindness that comes from familiarity.  Losing sight of what you’ve become so used to seeing that it no longer presses against you and captures your attentiveness.  When we first moved to these mountains of Western North Carolina, I remember driving up from our home near Atlanta and coaching myself.  “Don’t ever take this for granted, I’d say.”  “Don’t ever fail to see how glorious, how awesome, how spectacular this is.”  That was 10 years or so ago.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I had a visit from a dear friend from Wisconsin.  Since they were unfamiliar with the area and we live pretty far off the main road, I went to meet them and have them follow me in to our home.  On that drive back in, I imagined what it must look like to them and realized I have slipped into the syndrome.  I have become blind to my surroundings.  The fire tower of Albert Mountain is visible as one drives into our valley.  It sits atop the mountain peak every single day yet, I confess, there are many days I miss it.  And in the surrounding fields and woods, there are many more treasures I fail to take note of because I’m so used to them being there.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, how does one address this issue of blindness?  This deadening of the wonder that lies right in front of our eyes every single day?  The loss of appreciation that goes along with the consistent presence of someone or something?  How does this happen?  A long time ago, I learned from a Psychology class that human beings are taking in such vast amounts of data from the world around them that the only way to cope is to develop automatic pigeon holing techniques.  Some would call this stereotyping.  You see something or someone for a fleeting moment and decide where it or they belong in the storehouse of your brain.  We do this so we no longer have to deal with it.  We do this because it is simply not possible for us to be attentive to every single detail we are encountering.  It is necessary on one level to do so.  But, what happens when we do it with everyone and everything?  It’s as if we shut off life.  Bar the doors and batten down the hatches, here comes life!!  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have no answer for this.  Its something I am currently contemplating and grappling with.  I’ve been married to the same man for 25 years and I confess, I no longer see him a major part of the time.  I have “pigeon-holed” him into a spot I’m familiar with.  I am a photographer who loves to take pictures of the flowers blooming in my garden and the landscapes I see around me.  The problem is, once I’ve taken the photo, it feels as if there’s no longer any need to explore it further.  I’ve pigeon-holed the image and essentially abandoned it.  “Been there, done that, is the creed.”  In an attempt to change this, I am focusing on myself and my thoughts and feelings more actively than I have in the past as a roadmap to being more here more of the time.  Seeing someone or something involves so much more than eyes.  It has to do with connection and presence and being in the present moment with all your faculties.  It has to do with developing “new eyes”, I believe.  As a photographer, I realize that the reason so many pros take trips to “exotic” lands is for the purpose of seeing things with fresh eyes. I completely understand that.  But how does one develop “new eyes” for seeing what’s right in front of them? I'd love to hear what you have to say about this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3946150634919642573-4569141108438374111?l=stilwellreflections.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/4569141108438374111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3946150634919642573&amp;postID=4569141108438374111' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/4569141108438374111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/4569141108438374111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/2011/06/new-eyes.html' title='New Eyes?'/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573.post-6290981913988911620</id><published>2010-01-27T05:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-27T05:41:27.444-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter sparkle</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCLMYu__I/AAAAAAAAAgA/kuCxcfX52as/s1600-h/blog%201%20fire%20and%20ice%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="fire and ice" border="0" alt="fire and ice" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCOCgLm4I/AAAAAAAAAgE/twM3ob0cXnY/blog%201%20fire%20and%20ice_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCSzeVHLI/AAAAAAAAAgI/8jtynWRr3Ao/s1600-h/blog%202%20fire%20and%20ice%5B5%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="fire and ice" border="0" alt="fire and ice" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCV_UBwSI/AAAAAAAAAgM/ELElsKdr7CY/blog%202%20fire%20and%20ice_thumb%5B3%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="265" height="173" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCZmKuZLI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/eo7fa5P887Y/s1600-h/blog%203%20fire%20and%20ice%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="fire and ice" border="0" alt="fire and ice" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCcK-3MUI/AAAAAAAAAgU/6FNTC39k1cY/blog%203%20fire%20and%20ice_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="184" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCesuo-pI/AAAAAAAAAgY/944ik6a4V4s/s1600-h/fire%20and%20ice%2004%5B2%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="fire and ice 04" border="0" alt="fire and ice 04" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCg-j71CI/AAAAAAAAAgc/3sI4AstoIkI/fire%20and%20ice%2004_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="244" height="225" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3946150634919642573-6290981913988911620?l=stilwellreflections.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/6290981913988911620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3946150634919642573&amp;postID=6290981913988911620' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/6290981913988911620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/6290981913988911620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/2010/01/winter-sparkle.html' title='Winter sparkle'/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/_MSKd5wzbPBo/S2BCOCgLm4I/AAAAAAAAAgE/twM3ob0cXnY/s72-c/blog%201%20fire%20and%20ice_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573.post-3633155492156423494</id><published>2009-10-27T10:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T10:36:44.639-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It´s coming</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid #4F81BD 1.0pt;  mso-border-bottom-themecolor:accent1;padding:0in 0in 2.0pt 0in"&gt;&lt;p class="underline"&gt;It approaches on nearly silent feet &lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Coming constantly closer &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;without regard for health or wealth&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;color or creed, age or wage.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step by step it closes the gap&lt;br /&gt;Between you and what's to be –&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Total darkness without reprieve,&lt;br /&gt;Heavens choirs and dancing angels or&lt;br /&gt;Floating in an invisible cloud&lt;br /&gt;As cellular material. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It doesn't matter because its still coming&lt;br /&gt;Closer and closer for you and your loved ones.&lt;br /&gt;No one—&lt;br /&gt;No one&lt;br /&gt;Escapes. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Some are there already, some are fast asleep&lt;br /&gt;Some run away like silly nillies, some stand steadfast listening.&lt;br /&gt;Some party, some knit, some ride wild horses or hot cars &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;none of it matters to the one who comes…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;none of it!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Its still coming.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;You can cry for what is lost or let the rain do it for you&lt;br /&gt;It won't bring it back, it can't bring it back. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Poems on discs long abandoned or disposed of…gone&lt;br /&gt;Dreams of riding wild horses or dancing on stage…gone&lt;br /&gt;Hugs and kisses for children, paying attention to them…gone&lt;br /&gt;Hot, wild passionate lovemaking with athletic movements…gone. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Now is what I have and now is what I use for the steps are approaching and I can hear them.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Do they scare me? Yes!, Into being committed to what I leave behind into LIVING here and now, in this place at this time.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Love is who I worship now.  There is no other god.  It is not love of lust and sex but love that remains when the sparkle is gone, &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;love that remembers what was and could have been, love that hopes itself into existence, love is the warm smile, the open arms, &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;the forgiving and forgetting of petty differences and unkind happenings.  Love focuses on beauty, turns its back on hatred, attends to discord and never gives up.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Love remains when you're unable to care for yourself.  Your deep apologies for being a burden go unheard.  The hands that help you, the arms that carry you--love is their name.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Love is what reminds you who you are when you've forgotten.  It is who won't let you sacrifice yourself for your fears.  It is who listens when you talk nonsense and cries for you when you wail.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;It is the one who watches as you choose unwisely and yet remains at your side.  Love stands horrified at your rude behavior yet rejoices when your true self returns.  It sees your true self behind the rough façade that you have built to hide behind.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Love is what calls you and keeps calling until you answer even if you don't know what to say or do.  Love won't leave you when you choose to be alone even though it grieves your distance and your separation.  &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.2in;text-indent:.2in;line-height:200%"&gt;Yes, love is what I worship now…in all its intricate glory. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3946150634919642573-3633155492156423494?l=stilwellreflections.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/3633155492156423494/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3946150634919642573&amp;postID=3633155492156423494' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/3633155492156423494'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/3633155492156423494'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/2009/10/its-coming.html' title='It´s coming'/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573.post-2438340035364378919</id><published>2009-09-18T04:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-09-18T04:45:25.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Words Can Change Your World</title><content type='html'>Most of us are familiar with the idea that thoughts carry energy which, when given enough "weight" acquire "mass" and impact the physical world.  Dan Brown's new book revolves around this very subject.  &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In reading some of my earlier blogs, I am reminded how important this concept is to me as a liver (someone who is alive, not an organ!) and a writer.  The words I say to myself are defining the world I'm existing within.  I realize I need an inner editor who will gently and firmly clean up the language I'm using in my head as well as on the paper.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I want my home to be a place of comfort, nourishment and inspiration.  I want it to be somewhere I feel rejuvenated and encouraged.  I want it to be a place of beauty and serenity.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I realized some time ago that in order to make my outside home fit that bill means starting with my inside home. Upon considering this, I was horrified at the state of my inner dwelling because it was dominated by an orge.  It was not a friendly place to be, let me assure it.  The critical voices residing there were shredding me to ribbons.  I made a vow that day to make my inner house friendlier and more supportive.  I respectfully told the ogre those services were no longer needed and invited him and his crew to depart.  They wanted to stay, don't get me wrong!  They had it good living there in my head.  If I'm not vigilant, they find they're way back in.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Isn't it amazing that dramatic changes can be made simply by shifting some words around?  These markings appearing on this page before me where there was formerly nothing are changing my world!  They are a vivid example of how a tiny spark of invisible energy is manifested into a physical and visible thing!  All I can say is wow!  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3946150634919642573-2438340035364378919?l=stilwellreflections.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/2438340035364378919/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3946150634919642573&amp;postID=2438340035364378919' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/2438340035364378919'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/2438340035364378919'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/2009/09/thinking-is-key.html' title='Words Can Change Your World'/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573.post-6379905357190934964</id><published>2009-07-02T10:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-07-02T11:10:01.326-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" color: rgb(1, 30, 1); font-family:'arial narrow';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Discovered &lt;a href="http://www.merritmalloy.com/"&gt;a wonderful poet&lt;/a&gt;, Merrit Malloy this morning and just had to pass one of her poems along.  Her website is worth a visit in my opinion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Epitaph&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I die&lt;br /&gt;Give what's left of me away&lt;br /&gt;To children&lt;br /&gt;And old men that wait to die.&lt;br /&gt;And if you need to cry,&lt;br /&gt;Cry for your brother&lt;br /&gt;Walking the street beside you.&lt;br /&gt;And when you need me,&lt;br /&gt;Put your arms&lt;br /&gt;Around anyone&lt;br /&gt;And give them&lt;br /&gt;What you need to give to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to leave you something,&lt;br /&gt;Something better&lt;br /&gt;Than words&lt;br /&gt;Or sounds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look for me&lt;br /&gt;In the people I've known&lt;br /&gt;Or loved,&lt;br /&gt;And if you cannot give me away,&lt;br /&gt;At least let me live on your eyes&lt;br /&gt;And not on your mind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can love me most&lt;br /&gt;By letting&lt;br /&gt;Hands touch hands,&lt;br /&gt;By letting&lt;br /&gt;Bodies touch bodies,&lt;br /&gt;And by letting go&lt;br /&gt;Of children&lt;br /&gt;That need to be free.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love doesn't die,&lt;br /&gt;People do.&lt;br /&gt;So, when all that's left of me&lt;br /&gt;Is love,&lt;br /&gt;Give me away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3946150634919642573-6379905357190934964?l=stilwellreflections.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/6379905357190934964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3946150634919642573&amp;postID=6379905357190934964' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/6379905357190934964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/6379905357190934964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/2009/07/discovered-wonderful-poet-merrit-malloy.html' title=''/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3946150634919642573.post-3841466941804098769</id><published>2008-09-16T07:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T07:34:12.199-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You See I Want Alot</title><content type='html'>You see, I want a lot.&lt;br /&gt;Perhaps I want everything:&lt;br /&gt;the darkness that comes with every infinite fall&lt;br /&gt;and the shivering blaze of every step up.&lt;br /&gt;So many live on and want nothing,&lt;br /&gt;And are raised to the rank of prince&lt;br /&gt;by the slippery ease of their light judgments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what you love to see are faces&lt;br /&gt;that do work and feel thirst.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You love most of all those who need you&lt;br /&gt;As they need a crowbar or a hoe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You have not grown old, and it is not too late&lt;br /&gt;To dive into your increasing depths&lt;br /&gt;where life calmly gives out its own secret.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rainer Maria Rilke, from Das Studenbuch, translated by Robert Bly&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3946150634919642573-3841466941804098769?l=stilwellreflections.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/feeds/3841466941804098769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3946150634919642573&amp;postID=3841466941804098769' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/3841466941804098769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3946150634919642573/posts/default/3841466941804098769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://stilwellreflections.blogspot.com/2008/09/you-see-i-want-alot.html' title='You See I Want Alot'/><author><name>Kathy Stilwell</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04311655635360054017</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pb2RhnF6RBA/TZhKBNDV7MI/AAAAAAAABCA/h-i6MZVV5ig/s220/photographer%2Bfixed.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
