Thank You

I want to thank each of you who are responding to Many of you are responding by email; a few by posting on the blog, itself. Since I have not yet discovered how to make these comments visible (I have approved of them) I am going to post them today.
Also, I am getting notices that some of you are subscribing to the daily postings. I look forward to reading your comments as time goes by. If any of you have tips on how to use to its full advantage I would appreciate those comments as well. Though I am somewhat technically inept I am meeting the challenge of youth, learning however slowly to become a part of the Electronic Age. Again, If there is a post that strikes an emotion, a memory or a pleasant thought and you wish to share it with others, I encourage you to do so.

PS: For those who do not know who LB Gettings is, I am he. I have added my birth-mother’s maiden name to my own; an act of love for one whose life was one of torment. So,  I am Lee Broom aka LB Gettings. Again, I thank you all for your support.

The Next Thing: Now you see it, now you don’t.
by lbgettings on October 3, 2011
I have a friend who talks a lot about doing the next right thing. When he makes these kinds of statements I wonder how he knows whether the next thing is after all, the right thing. Personally, being a recovering perfectionist I suspect that he means the next Perfect thing, but then I ask myself, “Why am I bothered by this?” I often miss out on the fun of life, the adventures, the mistakes, the corrections and the successes that come (oh yeah) by taking the risks………
B Powers permalink

LEE, your post is helpful as I start this week procrastinating the many things I want or need to do. I will throw the excuses aside and do THE NEXT THING.

September 27, 2011
by lbgettings
Without Form there is confusion
Without Logic we must follow the crowd.
Without Love we have only ourselves.
Without Faith our options are limited

September 27, 2011 Comments.
Kamal Amin permalink
You do not need form if you have faith in the mother of all life, where everything eventually returns. Form is work in progress. It is constantly evolving
Morris Rulens Scott permalink
Poetry June 2010 | issue 414 Formlessness a study of
What About God
by Alison Luterman
The rabbi is coming to talk about the wedding. We lay out cookies, tamari almonds, stuffed grape leaves, hummus, crackers, and strips of sweet red peppers. I hide the magazines, pick up the clutter. The rabbi wouldn’t have noticed anyway. He is wearing a soft knit cap and looks like a poli-sci professor. He asks for an electrical outlet for his laptop, takes 2 percent milk in his tea, and tells us he won’t sign the certificates of straight couples until he can do the same for his gay congregants. Fine. Christopher and I sit on the sofa holding hands, and he asks us, in the most neutral way possible, about God. What do we believe?
His tone of voice, his face, his manner: all suggest it would be possible for us to say anything. It would be ok if one of us answered, “Blue,” and the other one said, “I saw God once in the Greyhound bus station in Chicago, bumming cigarettes off the loiterers who were stranded there, but I haven’t seen her since.” It would be ok to say, “God is dead. I sent flowers to the funeral,” or, “I danced on his grave.”
Christopher says, “God is beyond our knowing.”
I want to say, God is a cloud. Cloud of my ignorance. Humming and buzzing, like a swarm of bees or gnats — but it sounds too whimsical and fruity, so I say my conception of God has changed, is changing, from year to year.
The rabbi raises a mild-mannered eyebrow. “Really? That’s very stable of you. My concept of God changes from hour to hour, like the weather.”
Aha! I think, sitting back. I was right. A cloud


Morris Rulens Scott permalink

One of the original amorphologyologists, William Blake

To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.



2 thoughts on “Thank You

  1. One of the original amorphologyologist William Blake

    To see a world in a grain of sand,
    And a heaven in a wild flower,
    Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
    And eternity in an hour.

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