There is some kiss we want with

our whole lives, the touch of

spirit on the body. Seawater

begs the pearl to break its shell.

And the lily, how passionately

it needs some wild darling! At

night, I open the window and ask

the moon to come and press its

face against mine. Breathe into

me. Close the language- door and

open the love window. The moon

won't use the door, only the window.

--Rumi

They call it " 3½ lbs " here because that is what the brain weighs.

What's the title in the U.K / U.S .. anyone know ?

Stanley Tucci stars in this medical drama about a team of top New York City neurosurgeons who explore the brain – the core of intelligence, the centre of emotion and spirit and the last great medical frontier.

http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0001804/

Stanley Tucci
Birthplace: Peekskill, New York
Birthday: November 11, 1960

He's a Scorpio

This week it's become more obvious that the good doctor surgeon has been hallucinating. I wonder what is going on that brain of his. Three guesses as to what is going ón in Mira's brain

Night night .. early night for once
Happy full moon day !

Subtly nutty ,nutritious , chewy and full of flavour
Mine are encased in a yellow-white husk which, I have found , I can remove skilfully with my teeth and eath just the inside. Fiddly yes , but great while watching T.V. member of the Cucurbitaceae family...... PUMPKIN SEEDS

http://www.whfoods.org/genpage.php?tname=foodspice&dbid=82

So where's the sun ? It's wild and windy and changeable. A malleable sort of day, methinks. A day is what you make it to be.

Started by reading a bit from " Among the Bohemians " by Virginia Nicholson . The Subtitle is " Experiments in living 1900-1939". It's a book that was given to me by Penny , who has majored in English Literature. For the gourmet of readers. It's in small print too , so I can only eat savour and read in small doses. It is most enjoyable and opens my mind up to areas that I wouldn't ordinarily visit.

A little snippet from page 70

" Few people could recollect quite how many children Sanger was supposed to have got, but here always seemed to be a good many. and they were most shockingly brought up . They were, in their own orbit , known collectively as 'Sangers's Circus' , a nickname earned for them by their wandering existance , their vulgarity,their conspicuous brilliance , the noise they made, and the kind of naphtha-flare genius which illuminated everything they said or did. Their father had given them a good sound musical education and nothing else. They had received no sort of regular education , but the course of their travels had picked up a good deal of mental furniture , and could abuse each other most profanely in the argot of four languages ."

I went on to read about Jean-Jacques Rousseas's ideas on child raising; Nature being the teacher .. of innocence and of children allowed to play naked in the garden, left very much to their own devices with the minimum of adult interference . Rouseau thought that most teaching distorted and denatured the child's inner sense of what was good.

Fascinating . The Bohemian child in me still lives despite well- meaning efforts of my parents to tame her and civilise her.

Oh yes, I know .. you can take these theories to extremes . The children in this book went into town and bought gunpowder to play with and experiment with ... and yes .. there were explosions heard from the garden shed and bits of stuff flying , but miraculously noone was hurt or killed. Proof yet again of the presence of guardian angels, I feel .