Fairy horses - have YOU seen them?

There is a lovely old folk tradition in lovely old Central Europe that if a fern seed inadvertently falls into your shoe on Midsummer night - that would be about now - you will be able to understand the language of animals.


But that's nothing compared with the claim by Herbie Brennan - an author who has been mentioned a lot on our sister blog - that he actually saw a herd of fairy horses when he was a child. (Yes, fairy horses. Yes, a herd of them.)


Read all about it here:

Do Fairy Horses Exist?

Please note that it happened on Halloween.
Maybe they were plain old ordinary horses in disguise. :-)

Saint John's Day

Today is the perfect day for gathering St John's Wort - Hypericum perforatum - unless it rains.
(You should never gather plants when it rains. Not because of your hairdo, but because the plants will rot.)
It is good against depression. Even if you don't ingest it. :)

Funny, isn't it, that nature would produce a powerful antidepressant at the time when it is needed the most?
Well, some would say it's exactly six months later that it is needed - and after six months, your concoctions should be just perfect.
But I don't need an antidepressant on December 21 - 23.
To me, those are the happiest days of the year.

It is NOW that it's the saddest time of the year.

Goodbye, Redjellyfish?

Has Redjellyfish gone off-line permanently?
I have nobody to ask, so I am asking it here.
For the past three days I've been unable to access it.

Redjellyfish was the first website that I started visiting daily, to click for the chimps and for the rainforest. That was eleven years ago.
I took my first webmail address there: Planet-save.
Every email you sent contributed a little towards a fund intended for rainforest preservation.
I never saw it used by anyone else; I wonder why.

I loved Redjellyfish. I loved its concept, and I loved its appearance - all red and green and nice - I loved its puzzles (even though they hadn't been updated in years).
I loved everything about it, because I loved what it represented: the early days of my internet experience, more than eleven years ago now, when my world was coming into its fullness; when everything was good and kind and fun, and appeared to be becoming ever better.

That's why I would miss Redjellyfish so much.
I actually have tears in my eyes as I write this. Tears for everything that I thought would be, for the promise of yesteryear. It never really materialised, or it did so differently than I thought it would; but that doesn't even matter. The promise itself was enough to rest easily at night and wake up with stars in one's eyes.

I want Redjellyfish back.
I want my yesterday's future back.

ADDENDUM: On June 21st, Redjellyfish came back. :)
Now I want the rest of my life back, too.


YET ANOTHER ADDENDUM (December 26th, 2012): 
About a fortnight ago, Redjellyfish disappeared from the web again.
I fear - and I hope I am wrong - it is for good this time.


AND THE FINAL (?) ADDENDUM (September 22th, 2014):
It's been almost a month since I've last clicked successfully on the DONATE buttons. I also sent an email - twice - to the email addresses indicated on the website, but they came back as undeliverable.
I fear this really is the end of my beloved Redjellyfish.
And to me it is also the end of an era. A happy era, the likes of which, I am afraid, I shall never see again.

Why cathedrals matter

By Hayu.

Borrowed from here.

P.S. Yes, the photo is lovely, and independent thinking is very much encouraged here.

But there is a more literal pathway to other people's thoughts somewhere within that photo. :)

Who cares about the transit of Venus? See THIS!

Well, you can't, actually. See the event itself, that is. No special glasses will help. Not even the telescopes at Mount Palomar would help.
But you can see the probable consequences of it - and, most exciting of all, you can ponder on just what it was.


I am talking about the "vast cosmic event" that appears to have happened around 774 A.D. that left a durable imprint on trees, those natural custodians of once-living history.


Here is the original article:

Vast cosmic event leaves record in ancient trees

Was it a supernova?
Was it a solar flare?
Was it a ...


This really sparked my imagination and appetite for research. But of course, not having the expertise - being a passionate lover of dendrochronology isn't enough - there's little I can do on my own.


Still, I can think and imagine... That in itself kicks butt in ways that the paltry transit of tiny Venus, parading as an unsightly pimple on the huge face of the Sun, never could.


(But Venus the Morning star, and especially Venus the Evening star, will forever remain my favourite sky sight. I love you, Venus. I just prefer you when you're transiting the twilight skies in my eyes, lighting them, instead of humbling yourself in the face of the unappreciative glare of the Sun.)

The Day I Became a Bitch (a rant)

Well, not really.
But I have been becoming rapidly sick and tired of babying and spoonfeeding my "friends" throughout all my life, and recently have stopped doing it... Well, almost. Certainly I don't do it to the point of overextending myself, wasting (much) of my time, anymore.
After all, I do like to help.
But the babying days are GONE.
Today I am only writing about it, that's all.
(But the written word has a special power, so we'll see what comes out of it, in the long run.)

What do I mean by spoonfeeding and babying others?
Trying to make them think things through, and do so from their perspective, from what they want for themselves, and helping them find practical data for their advancement. (Because some of them - all adult, mature people - are too stupid, or lazy, or scared of actual advancement, or all of the above - to search the internet efficiently on their own.)
It's one big psychotherapy session, complete with actual problem-solving for them (when they seem unable or too scared or something to do it on their own).

I have been doing that all my life.
I like to help. And I have a LOT to offer.
In truth, I have inordinate amounts of goodies to offer.
(Well, yes, even if I say so myself. Nobody else will; it's taken for granted.)
And I've always believed that from those who have been given a lot, a lot is expected.

But even though I never - consciously - expected any "reward" from them (I can honestly say that the satisfaction of seeing a problem go away, or just a person cheer up, was enough of a "reward" to me), the time came when I needed help. I didn't even know it myself, but it was evident to everyone else. Or it should have been. 
But none came.

So I started thinking very thoroughly about my own life, and discovered all the instances of "mismanagement" - of sheer and criminal neglect - that I and my sibling were subjected to, by parents who did love us very much, but were simply incompetent as parents. (They did teach us, particularly my dear mother, to be good people, pure and simple, and that is hugely important. Then again, perhaps they only didn't spoil it entirely, if you know what I mean.)  I - and my sibling - could be the poster children of laissez-faire victims. 

And then I started thinking of all the mistakes and errors - my mistakes and my errors - that accumulated over the years, partly as a result of those earlier parental errors, and realized that never EVER did I have a single friendly presence in my life who would invest in me not half, not one third, but one tenth or less of what I invested in other people, most of whom I don't even love - heck, most of them I don't even LIKE! But that doesn't prevent me from helping them in any way I can if needed.

Someone - some one - once told me that I was an ocean of Being and talent.
Very nice; but oceans have no power, unless there is a force, a wind, directing their waves. They are forever folded into themselves, static, their waves - the talents - consumed by each other, with only the occasional wave hitting the shores with any force and perhaps, with the persistence that soft power needs, carving on some rock a weak memento of what could have been.


Not one person, not one adult - or peer - ever tried to see the world through my eyes and help me find the right direction from my own perspective and according to my own wishes, like I do, with special care not to impose my views on what is good in life. 
Not one person did ever force me, in a friendly and warm but effective way, to think through what I was doing or not doing, to even ask me what I wanted to do in life! let alone to help me figure out how exactly was I going to get it.
Nobody ever invested in me a fraction of the time and genuine thoughtfulness and effort that I have been investing in others since childhood - while also trying to be my own friend, seeing that I had no other friends. (I don't mean people to play with. You know what I mean.)

And for the first time in my life, I felt truly and deeply SORRY for myself.

People who don't think too deeply will blurt out that feeling sorry for oneself isn't helpful.
Poppycock!
It all depends on the circumstances and the quality of the "sorrow" you feel, and on what you do as a result of that feeling.
It all depends, as all does, on the context.
I only wish it had happened much, much earlier!
Because as a result of that I felt charity - agape, the love towards the Other - for myself.

What prompted me to write this?
The fact that I spent time prodding a "friend" to think what she really wanted in a certain situation, and finding helpful data for her... while she sat on the other side, too scared (you won't believe this, but it's true) to even click on the links I sent her, because - I suppose - she prefers to dream on and not face reality.
(Eventually she did click on them and started researching, but not before I made her see that she was afraid of success, of making her wishes come true. And I'll bet you anything that tomorrow this new-found momentum will be gone... Because it's happened many times before.)

That prompted me, today of all days.
The anger that I felt - towards myself - for dragging her dead weight (not for the first time - or the tenth, or the twentieth - but for the last time).

Well, I am done dragging dead weight.
It can drag itself, or remain dead, for all I care.
I will still help, but I will NOT drag anyone's weight across their vital bridges.

Will they learn?
I don't know.
I don't really care.
Because what that life-long haul of dead weight dragging did to me was to drain me of the last shred of affection I may have had for others. All I have left is resentment and/or contempt for them, depending on the moment.
That's not what I want for my heart and my mind.

Don't wait until it happens to you, too.
Shed the weight, let them walk on their own feet - or drown.
Don't drown with them. You'll be doing a favour to no one.

I for one am sick and tired of takers, and I am done dragging dead weight.
And for the first time in years I feel as light as a bird.
And ready to take flight.