<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rdf:RDF xmlns="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:sy="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/syndication/" xmlns:rdf="http://www.w3.org/1999/02/22-rdf-syntax-ns#"><channel rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/BlogRss.aspx/marimari"><title>mari singing - Blogit</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/</link><description>poetry is easy...or is it?  Seems simple...the words just happen...or do they?  </description><sy:updatePeriod>hourly</sy:updatePeriod><sy:updateFrequency>1</sy:updateFrequency><sy:updateBase>2000-01-01T12:00+00:00</sy:updateBase><items><rdf:Seq><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/508079" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/505246" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/503940" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/502686" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/501232" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/499697" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/499210" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/497710" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/496174" /><rdf:li resource="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/496173" /></rdf:Seq></items></channel><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/508079"><title>Avatura</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/508079</link><description>What do you do when your sky is falling? Fall into the Spiritual Sky. That is wise, sensible, will save your life. It is hard to do when one's mind is so troubled...Hard to trust so far. Is it there? Is it real? Yes, both. If you cannot trust Krisna, then no one is to be trusted. That would be...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/505246"><title>Morning Song</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/505246</link><description>The Great Mother has brought me and mine safely thru the dark. While we slept safely in her womb she breathed Her own life into our lungs. Because She watched us, we slept in safety. We wake to beauty, birdsong, earth, sea, sand and sky...yes, there is evil and yes, there are enemies, but we are...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/503940"><title>It's Only Love</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/503940</link><description>She writes in longhand, in shorthand, in Theban. He writes in Gaelic. She can cook anything. He can barely boil water. She can repair almost anything. He can change a lightbulb, with difficulty. She is shrewd. He is innocent. She is fire. He is water. They are mutually exclusive. Yet, yet...some...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/502686"><title>Thoughts on Ghandhi et al</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/502686</link><description>When I think of nonviolent activists, I'm almost unable to comprehend so much restraint. For the natural reaction to being struck is to strike back. One's pride is affronted. It takes a superhuman effort towalk away or stay one's hands and have to burn under the taunt of "coward" if you can walk...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/501232"><title>Outlaw Emotions</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/501232</link><description>All during my childhood I was forced to suppress my feelings...certain behaviors, feelings, ideas, were not allowed...they were "outlawed." "Act like a lady", "a lady doesn't lose her temper" (which later metamorphed to "Never lose your cool"). The nuns, who truly meant well, taught us girls to...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/499697"><title>The Tao of Peace</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/499697</link><description>Sometimes in life one has to draw threads...unravel the garment to restructure it, repair it, make it fit properly. I learned embroidery from my grandmother. My mother lacked time/patience with little, unskilled hands. It fell to my grandmother to tenderly teach. What I learned from her is with...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/499210"><title>Speak Softly</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/499210</link><description>Last week a package arrived for me all the way from Beijing. I read the declaration made to Customs and smiled at the fascinating Chinese characters delicate as miniature spiders' webs. A bracelet I'd bought had arrived, massive, silver, a dragon with ruby eyes. But what is this silver ring set...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/497710"><title>Tattos</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/497710</link><description>Tatoos are Interesting Artistic Concealing/revealing Say nothing, say everything Are obscure/are obvious Colorful, dull, precise, imprecise, expensive, cheap at the price Coveted by adrenaline junkies, trendies, rebels, shallow people... I loved the tattooed feet of Barbara Hershey in the "Last...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/496174"><title>Tommy Makem</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/496174</link><description>Last night, I listened to a recording put out in perhaps the late 50s, still in excellent condition, no scratches, the music clear and true. Pete Seeger was singing, and also Tommy Makem and the Clancys. The last time I saw Tommy Makem, it seemed to me it was probably the last time. He seemed, to...</description></item><item rdf:about="https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/496173"><title>Promises</title><link>https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/marimari/496173</link><description>He came into this world with no fanfare and so he left it, solitary. No memorial and few sighs or tears. Only I remain to remember him. I promised him he would always have music and never be left alone in the dark. I've kept my promise. After I'm gone, well...there isn't anybody left even to...</description></item></rdf:RDF>