<?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-8731673393193072185</id><updated>2012-01-05T19:07:12.286-08:00</updated><category term='song'/><category term='spring'/><title type='text'>Through the Mist</title><subtitle type='html'>"We don't yet see things clearly. We're squinting in a fog, peering through a mist. But it won't be long before the weather clears and the sun shines bright! We'll see it all then, see it all as clearly as God sees us, knowing him directly just as he knows us!"</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.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-8731673393193072185.post-7478240452918243338</id><published>2008-07-24T23:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T01:32:14.125-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Grumpy Old Hecklers</title><content type='html'>If you grew up in the seventies like I did, you'll remember The Muppet Show, starring the dashing and debonair "Froggie!" (as Miss Piggy would wail).  Well, I was 12 by then, and on the verge of womanhood.  So this made the love aspect between Kermit and Miss Piggy amusing. And there was also Animal, whom we all loved. But there was another aspect that kept us glued to the telly, or at least made us come back to it at the end of every episode.  And that would be Statler and Waldorf, the two old men sitting in the box seat, acting as critics rating every show at the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a sampling of their show-enders...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7h15xIoVwWw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7h15xIoVwWw&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, does anyone also remember the movie "Trading Places" starring Dan Akyroyd and Eddie Murphy?  The antagonists in the movie was a couple of extremely wealthy old men, a conniving brother team: Mortimer and Randolph Duke. The plot was extremely hilarious to us at the time, and the presence of these two know-it-all's reminiscent of the ornery muppet duo. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/s74qrOyJJv4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/s74qrOyJJv4&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, after all these years, I still find these sketches so amusing.  Actually they sort of caricature the actual conversations we secretly form in our minds.  Some of us are too polite to say them out loud. But as our legendary undercover cops would quip: &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SImOZAU2mGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/YdMXZi05H8Q/s1600-h/white_chicks,0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SImOZAU2mGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/YdMXZi05H8Q/s200/white_chicks,0.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226865402775509090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"You said it!"... "Yeah, but you were thinking it!"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More Statler and Waldorf Clips:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/SK6TVqbsKVk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/SK6TVqbsKVk&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they are doing movie cameos!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/kqKBcNteSc0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/kqKBcNteSc0&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here they are in a movie with Michael Caine!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/VsiKOJOXMJU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/VsiKOJOXMJU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8731673393193072185-7478240452918243338?l=idahenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/7478240452918243338/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8731673393193072185&amp;postID=7478240452918243338' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/7478240452918243338'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/7478240452918243338'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/2008/07/grumpy-old-hecklers.html' title='Grumpy Old Hecklers'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SImOZAU2mGI/AAAAAAAAADQ/YdMXZi05H8Q/s72-c/white_chicks,0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8731673393193072185.post-1433298313865138253</id><published>2008-07-22T20:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T21:25:56.116-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The GoodFather</title><content type='html'>I got to see the "Dark Knight" last night, and heard for the first time Joker's sad story about his facial scars.  He apparently has several versions of that story: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIarXtqfDFI/AAAAAAAAADA/VaxOEhDOnnc/s1600-h/heathledger-joker.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIarXtqfDFI/AAAAAAAAADA/VaxOEhDOnnc/s320/heathledger-joker.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226052841493171282" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Sometimes I remember it one way, sometimes another... if I'm going to have a past, I prefer it to be multiple choice!"&lt;/i&gt; [Moore, Alan. "Batman: The Killing Joke" (1988)  DC Comics. 1401209270]&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIaqLNSik4I/AAAAAAAAAC4/1IndNzrfweg/s1600-h/250px-Killingjoke.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIaqLNSik4I/AAAAAAAAAC4/1IndNzrfweg/s320/250px-Killingjoke.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226051527132746626" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever his past may be, the one we tend to believe the most is the one he relates in the movie about his father.  No spoilers here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sad...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I received this video in my subscription mail today. I first saw it at my friend, Nancy Polston's house in Phoenix in 2006.  It's about a father and son triathlon team.  They're Dick and Rick Hoyt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;i&gt;"Rick Hoyt was born with his umbilical cord around his neck, which cut off necessary oxygen to his brain. Doctors said Rick was going to be in a vegetable state the rest of his life and that his parents, Dick and Judy, should put him in an institution. Despite this obviously upsetting news, Dick and Judy chose to raise Rick as a normal child, taking him swimming and allowing him to play hockey with the neighbors. Their strong will and perseverance paid off when Rick was ten and his family raised five thousand dollars to purchase a computer that he could navigate with his head to spell words and write sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In high school Rick heard about another boy in his town who became paralyzed. There was a five-mile benefit run and Rick asked his dad to run it with him. So Dick, a self-proclaimed "porker," ran the race, pushing Rick every step of the way. When they got home Rick told his dad, "When we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore." That was all it took to motivate Dick to give his son that feeling as often as possible."&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.myhero.com/myhero/hero.asp?hero=Dick_Hoyt_whitworth_07"&gt;FAMILY HERO: DICK HOYT by Jay from Spokane&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And although everyone must have seen it by now, I thought I'd re-blog about it as a reminder to all of us that there may be "Joker dads" out there, but there are those from the opposite side of the spectrum that serve as beacons pointing us all to the Father's love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.godtube.com/view_video.php?viewkey=8cf08faca5dd9ea45513"&gt;Click to watch:&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIar6z4qsRI/AAAAAAAAADI/xNAuau0GGIM/s1600-h/g156099_u43854_RickHoyt_930.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIar6z4qsRI/AAAAAAAAADI/xNAuau0GGIM/s320/g156099_u43854_RickHoyt_930.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5226053444458688786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8731673393193072185-1433298313865138253?l=idahenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/1433298313865138253/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8731673393193072185&amp;postID=1433298313865138253' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/1433298313865138253'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/1433298313865138253'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/2008/07/goodfather.html' title='The GoodFather'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/SIarXtqfDFI/AAAAAAAAADA/VaxOEhDOnnc/s72-c/heathledger-joker.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8731673393193072185.post-842934594672004850</id><published>2007-08-16T02:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-16T03:02:09.556-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a Muse story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/RsQfl9ADzNI/AAAAAAAAABs/7iwxwRLTVhA/s1600-h/Ida_0025b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/RsQfl9ADzNI/AAAAAAAAABs/7iwxwRLTVhA/s320/Ida_0025b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5099235414980676818" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Qotd&lt;/span&gt; [Reblogged from &lt;a href="http://jewelrie.vox.com/library/post/qotd-my-musical-influence.html"&gt;My Musical Influence&lt;/a&gt;]: "&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Which friend or acquaintance most influenced your taste in music?&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;That would be my Papa, Dennis Jose Dario.  Not only in taste, but also in listening habits.  I remember watching him get ready for office in the morning, with Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass blaring out "Tequilla" on his [semi] built-in speakers in the bedroom.  He had a collection of 8-track cartridges in the bedroom.  Then in his office-cum-den in the basement, he kept his collection of vinyls: Sergio Mendez and Brasil '88, Ray Conniff, Burt Bacharach, Carpenters...  Finally, he had his cassettes in the car: Donna Summer, plus the kids' choices.  Sundays were spent browsing music stores to buy "one" (more like four) more for his library.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what?  I married someone just like my dad... Music is here to stay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love you, Pop!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8731673393193072185-842934594672004850?l=idahenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/842934594672004850/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8731673393193072185&amp;postID=842934594672004850' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/842934594672004850'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/842934594672004850'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/2007/08/muse-histories.html' title='a Muse story'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/RsQfl9ADzNI/AAAAAAAAABs/7iwxwRLTVhA/s72-c/Ida_0025b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8731673393193072185.post-1503634308303525806</id><published>2007-07-02T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-02T11:01:48.759-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Sunset Season of Goodbyes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/Rokc-Eod32I/AAAAAAAAAAc/Fyp7oOZuInE/s1600-h/CIMG4570c.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/Rokc-Eod32I/AAAAAAAAAAc/Fyp7oOZuInE/s320/CIMG4570c.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5082625507185254242" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="flickr-frame"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeweled/520249026/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/232/520249026_0812dc0816_t.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="sunset 2" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/jeweled/520249026/"&gt;sunset 2&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/jeweled/"&gt;jeweled&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's mystifying that each day ends with a sunset, the visual tail of an ongoing spiral of time.  And although we do expect to see that same view the next day, each dusk brings a nostalgia.  “Love makes us poets, and the approach of death makes us philosophers.”  And what is sunset, but the death of a day... the passing of time we will not encounter again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8731673393193072185-1503634308303525806?l=idahenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/1503634308303525806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8731673393193072185&amp;postID=1503634308303525806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/1503634308303525806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/1503634308303525806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/2007/07/sunset-season-of-goodbyes.html' title='A Sunset Season of Goodbyes'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/Rokc-Eod32I/AAAAAAAAAAc/Fyp7oOZuInE/s72-c/CIMG4570c.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8731673393193072185.post-226140263223322864</id><published>2007-06-26T22:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T00:55:23.516-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Salawikain</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1168/547792886_09fa7c3367_m.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1168/547792886_09fa7c3367_m.jpg" border="0" alt="" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a famous Filipino proverb that goes "Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan [ay] hindi makakarating sa paruruonan." Roughly translated, it says that those who do not know how, or are unwilling, to look back to where they came from will not reach their destination.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our friends like to joke about it too, changing the ending to make "patama" (barbs). So we've heard: "Ang hindi marunong lumingon sa pinanggalingan [ay] may istip neck" (stiff neck).  Funny, yet equally true, bringing to mind images of people we know (our past selves maybe?) who keep going "like flint", rail-roading all who would get in the way for fear of opposition or dissuading voices. Sadly, many relationships are ruined, and good-meaning people lay by the roadside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess, that's what I'll be blogging about till the memories run out. I think this journey back in time will be informative and hopefully therapeutic.  Coming out of a fog means we need to gather our bearings.  It takes courage because, many times, we need to face old ghosts.  These wandering souls need to rest in peace. Ghosts, souls, shattered persona, whatever the term, they're always lurking beneath our skin, needing attention and oftentimes, healing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8731673393193072185-226140263223322864?l=idahenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/226140263223322864/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8731673393193072185&amp;postID=226140263223322864' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/226140263223322864'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/226140263223322864'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/2007/06/salawikain.html' title='Salawikain'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1168/547792886_09fa7c3367_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8731673393193072185.post-3374015625717336433</id><published>2007-04-18T03:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-07-04T09:32:53.808-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='spring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='song'/><title type='text'>Re-awakened</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/RovKAkod33I/AAAAAAAAAAk/StBtqZk3Hpw/s1600-h/CIMG8337.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/RovKAkod33I/AAAAAAAAAAk/StBtqZk3Hpw/s320/CIMG8337.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083378715599953778" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="flickr-frame"&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tanned/499272186/" title="photo sharing"&gt;&lt;img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/197/499272186_d2c74fd594_t.jpg" class="flickr-photo" alt="run" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="flickr-caption"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/tanned/499272186/"&gt;run&lt;/a&gt;, originally uploaded by &lt;a href="http://www.flickr.com/people/tanned/"&gt;tanned&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There’s a stir&lt;br /&gt;A rustle of life&lt;br /&gt;A fluttering ‘neath the rubble of my heart&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s faint, it’s near&lt;br /&gt;Yet quite undaunted &lt;br /&gt;Rising, urgent&lt;br /&gt;The surface crinkling&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winking, squinting&lt;br /&gt;Through the haze&lt;br /&gt;Vision forming&lt;br /&gt;Word –transforming my soul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Out of time&lt;br /&gt;Done with waiting &lt;br /&gt;Time has come&lt;br /&gt;Weathered-crust broken&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve made it &lt;br /&gt;Here&lt;br /&gt;You’ve made me&lt;br /&gt;Here&lt;br /&gt;[Written to accompany Jon's garageBand composition, 10/17/06]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8731673393193072185-3374015625717336433?l=idahenson.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/feeds/3374015625717336433/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8731673393193072185&amp;postID=3374015625717336433' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/3374015625717336433'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8731673393193072185/posts/default/3374015625717336433'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://idahenson.blogspot.com/2007/04/re-awakened.html' title='Re-awakened'/><author><name>Jewel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08561159395127570380</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://i22.photobucket.com/albums/b348/idahenson/Photo_6b.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/__Q5xNDO4-9k/RovKAkod33I/AAAAAAAAAAk/StBtqZk3Hpw/s72-c/CIMG8337.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
