The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

Memento Mori - Photography and Loss in the 19th century
22:19 Apr 25 2008
Times Read: 953

I want this warning to be very clear for those of you who might be disturbed by the link that follows. It contains postmortem photographs of loved ones, often young children and babies.

"Blessed be the inventor of photography! I set him above even the inventor of chloroform! It has given more positive pleasure to poor suffering humanity than anything else that has cast up in my time or is like to -- this art by which even the poor can possess themselves of tolerable likenesses of their absent dear ones."



from a letter by Jane Welsh Carlyle, 1860



The images are haunting and tragically beautiful to me, while also being, as my friend worded it, "disquieting." I agree, I am disquieted, but imagine living in a time when photography was available but expensive and inconvenient. You might well put off such an endeavor in favor of more pressing life needs.



Now imagine the loss of someone you love, perhaps someone you have no image of. For grieving families, this was often their only way to hold onto that child or beloved family member. They were still able to gaze on a dear face, no matter the sad circumstances.



If you find that you can click on the link, that can look, you may find it difficult to look away. The faces of those left behind and the objects in the photographs are as gripping to me as the intended subjects. There is no denying the human response to these images. I am, in my way, glad that this is not really "in fashion" any longer. But that these are left to us and that they have a story to tell is undeniable. I'd love your thoughts on the topic.



Caution! You may find these images to be disquieting. They are the respectfully clothed and posed dead, photographed for the sake of remembering them. There are children and infants pictured.



Images of the Dead ca. 1800

"Let your gentleness be evident to all."
22:14 Apr 22 2008
Times Read: 1,010






"...Finally, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things."

Phil:4

Sublime Night
05:50 Apr 18 2008
Times Read: 1,077

The other night, we read poems from India...vedic to modern. It was beautiful and peaceful to share that time with someone who cares about the beauty of language and mankind's everlasting quest to capture the indescribable with words.



This one was my favorite of the night. It is by Sri Chinmoy Kumar Ghose who died last year at the age of 76. Spiritual themes, especially the concept of transcendental consciousness, are common to the poetry of India.

The Absolute



No mind, no form, I only exist;

Now ceased all will and thought;

The final end of Nature's dance,

I am it whom I have sought.



A realm of Bliss bare, ultimate;

Beyond both knower and known;

A rest immense I enjoy at last;

I face the One alone.



By: Sri Chinmoy

The Face of Humility
21:05 Apr 14 2008
Times Read: 1,110

I received this today after confirming that a donation to the Center had reached us. This is a VR member who had asked me if they could make a donation. We did receive it and I said thank you.



Simple, heartfelt sentiments like this inspire me. I WILL thank you, over and over, because you make a difference. That good feeling you describe...that's the result of grace...giving freely, not requiring someone to earn it, loving people, and being merciful. I'm grateful for you.



"Oh, ok great.:)

And you are more than welcome Joli...keep going with this good thing you do.



I will send when I can what I can..it will never be all that much I'm afraid.

And please,it isn't generous of me, it's selfish..because it has made me feel very good inside..Thank you for that.



Ok,well, you take care ...I was just checkin.

Talk again perhaps one day. :)"

PRIVATE ENTRY
05:46 Apr 10 2008
Times Read: 1,136


• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •

Snark snarketty snark snark
21:04 Apr 09 2008
Times Read: 1,180

My goofy friend messaged me, citing from the web site what we are unable to use at the Center as far as donations, and then pushed my buttons (in a funny way.) Honestly, you wouldn't believe how bad this gets. People actually "donate" dirty underwear, broken glass, and things you'd think I made up. Remind me some day to share the day we received the donated snake:



goofy friend: What We Are Unable To Use:

Mattresses. Furniture. Computer equipment. Cellphones. Broken items. Out of season clothing. VHS tapes. Damaged/stained clothing and linens. Mismatched shoes.



goofy friend: Sure.. so I'm sending you computer equipment... can I send you my old mismatched shoes too?



Joli: Sure everyone else does. In fact, if you could put them right UNDER the sign saying we don't accept them...wait, hold the presses...even better...make sure they are both for the same foot. We get so VERY excited by the donation of ONE shoe...We think, "thank you, unknown donor...surely we will get in a one-legged client and miracle of miracles, he will need the LEFT shoe in a size 9 1/2"



goofy friend: *laughing emoticon* crazy world we live in

PRIVATE ENTRY
23:03 Apr 05 2008
Times Read: 1,229


• • • • PRIVATE JOURNAL ENTRY • • • •

"t'is an unweeded garden grown to seed..."
20:18 Apr 05 2008
Times Read: 1,268

Last January/February, a long-term relationship in my life ended. I wasn't very public about it, but when I look through my journal, I feel again all the pulling places that had me in their grips during that time.



It may surprise a few of you to know that it is difficult for me to be openly personal here. I am more likely in the event of a cut to wipe up the blood and then write about what cleaning means to me. (That admission made me laugh a little at myself, which is always good.)



When he left, I doubted Universal Constants. The world was not the same world I had awakened to every day before; it had become something of a stranger to me. So sure of his character I was, that the laws of nature even came under suspect.



I had a lot of work before me. I had to re-nurture myself. Fortunately, I had cultivated a beautiful life over the course of a lifetime. I had the job of my dreams, friends, a crazy-supportive family, church, and community. My feet were at least on solid, fertile ground.



And I had this journal...and so, I had you. You were the outlet for my struggles and the vehicle for my creativity. You continue to be. Never underestimate your value to me. And where you invest yourself with passion, seedlings of hope unfailingly appear. I made a few dear friends.



The garden metaphor is on my mind now. Because I could not bear the task of working my garden last year through my aches and struggles, it has become overgrown. I watched through the window while it deteriortated from my own neglect, and while it made me sad, I did nothing. I think it reflected back to me my own pain.



I knew my sun...I am a woman of faith. I knew the source of my rain...my children, friends, family, and solid, honest hard work. But I felt like a beautiful garden, choking with weeds, and expected to grow and bloom anyway, dammit.



I walked through my garden this morning and remembered that while he may have mowed the grass and handed me a rake, I was the gardener all along. It was I who layed the garden hose out and marked where my rows would be. I was the one who chose the flowers, fruit trees, herbs, and perrenials, then carefully dug the home for their roots, and planted them in the earth with my own hands.



This was my sanctuary, just as I had been the refuge he once delighted in. I tended the soil, watered, and mulched. I even planted my own whimsy there...hidden fairies, brightly painted Mexican pot, squirrel ferris wheel, bird bath, things I hand-painted, etc... I love surprises in my life, and if you look carefully in any direction in my garden, you will find them there.



I'm going out there right now to begin the hard sweet labor of reclaiming my garden. I don't know why the tears are hot and stinging now. I think I feel a sense of exhaled relief. We both have permission to be beautiful and bloom again.



Nobody who ever looks at my garden and appreciates its lazy lovliness or how I planted it for fragrance with roses, sweet olive, gardenia, and jasmine will ever know it and love it like I do. I have been in its dirt, killed its bugs, protected its fruit, and sung to it at dusk. We are going to be fine.

Through Tears and Sadness... Hope
22:26 Apr 02 2008
Times Read: 1,397

To Birra



"It is just... sad... the world we live in is just... sad."



And also beautiful and poignant. Our world is made up of both. The people who lost their lives were moms, dads, daughters, and sons. They are remembered by loving people who make that memorial a living testimony. There are hearts like yours which care. It's our job to be the best people we can, to stand up where wickedness rears up and not to lose heart or fail to see the great potential that also lives inside of humanity where it is nurtured.



As much as I worry for our world, I am heartened by the people of great heart who also populate it. In my line of work, I see every day the people who make it their business to step up where there is iniquity, harm, poverty, neglect, and suffering. I have seen YOU be one of these people, not only with your eyes, words, and camera lens, but with your hands, heart, and wallet.



When the world makes me cry, I think of you, Birra. I think of all the people who ask, "What can I do? How can I help?" You help me wake up in the morning. You help me work through another day without feeling that it is all too big...too hard. I need to know that you are all out there, walking on the same earth as me, that I'm never alone in wanting to instill a little hope and peace where I can. We're a team...and we are "the world we live in."



** This is a response to a journal entry made by Birra, one of the most awesome people here and my very dear friend. You can read it here: April 2 - Tales From Gate 6