More Lucy pics and Daisy giving me the stink eye :

Lucy and Daisy are wearing clothing made by my friend Laura who with her partner helps create lovely doggy and kitty clothes. I just love them! Lucy likes them but Daisy isn’t as sure. (but she sure does look cute…) Shes giving me real attitude in the 3rd picture. An expression I’m deeply familiar with! lol. Laura sells some of these beautiful clothes on Facebook…Look up : ‘Beaus Beautique’!

something to aspire to on a personal level. I do find it hard to embrace this ideology for others though, as I will never understand the evils that are done in this world, in the name of religion , in ignorance and just through smallness, tyranny, apathy and hate….its still a beautiful poem (even though I cannot see it as a ‘reason’ for terrible things being ok. Though I do love this poem (as I do most of Rumis work, for its sheer beauty and insight,) It does give me pause…maybe it was intended to do so-

I love this poem by Emily Dickinson:

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes —
I wonder if It weighs like Mine —
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long —
Or did it just begin —
I could not tell the Date of Mine —
It feels so old a pain —

I wonder if it hurts to live —
And if they have to try —
And whether — could They choose between —
It would not be — to die —

I note that Some — gone patient long —
At length, renew their smile —
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil —

I wonder if when Years have piled —
Some Thousands — on the Harm —
That hurt them early — such a lapse
Could give them any Balm —

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve —
Enlightened to a larger Pain —
In Contrast with the Love —

The Grieved — are many — I am told —
There is the various Cause —
Death — is but one — and comes but once —
And only nails the eyes —

There’s Grief of Want — and Grief of Cold —
A sort they call “Despair” —
There’s Banishment from native Eyes —
In sight of Native Air —

And though I may not guess the kind —
Correctly — yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary —

To note the fashions — of the Cross —
And how they’re mostly worn —
Still fascinated to presume
That Some — are like My Own —