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Wednesday Weirdness..
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It’s Wednesday so here’s a weird little artsy selfie. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful. Hehe
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••• “Where is My Mind”

Oh - stop

With your feet on the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there’s nothing in it
And you’ll ask yourself

Where is my mind? [3x]

Way out in the water
See it swimmin’

I was swimmin’ in the Caribbean
Animals were hiding behind the rocks
Except the little fish
But they told me, he swears
Tryin’ to talk to me, to me, to me.

Where is my mind?
Where is my mind?
Where is my mind? ~ The Pixies

What’s the Matter LKN?
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There are people in your life who’ve come and gone
They let you down and hurt your pride
Better put it all behind you; life goes on
You keep carrin’ that anger, it’ll eat you inside

I’ve been tryin’ to get down to the Heart of the Matter
But my will gets weak
And my thoughts seem to scatter
But I think it’s about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don’t love me anymore…
~ Don Henley

"Eye Of The Needle"

Take me down
I’m feeling now
And if I move on
I admit you’re gone
And I ain’t ready
But I’ll hold steady
Yeah I’ll hold you
In my arms, in my arms
In my arms

And you’re locked inside my heart
And your melody’s an art
And I won’t let the terror in I’m stealing time
Through the eye of the needle

Step and repeat
Tears fall to the beat
Smile through the pain
Feel the acid rain
And I ain’t ready
But I’ll hold steady
Yeah I’ll hold you
In my arms, in my arms
In my arms…
~ Sia

I tremble
They’re going to eat me alive
If I stumble
They’re going to eat me alive

Can you hear my heart beating like a hammer?
Beating like a hammer? [x2]
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft
Tough to be tender

Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Beating like a hammer [x4]

If you’re still alive
My regrets are few
If my life is mine
What shouldn’t I do?
I get wherever I’m going
I get whatever I need
While my blood’s still flowing
And my heart still beats …
Beating like a hammer [x2]

Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps beating like a hammer
Hard to be soft
Tough to be tender

Come take my pulse, the pace is on a runaway train
Help, I’m alive, my heart keeps
Beating like a hammer…
-~ Metric

1 Mind
1 Mission..
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I discovered a new shop in Cornelius. It’s called the Marketplace. Everything is made by Christian free trade organizations throughout the world that support and help several causes. I purchased a necklace made by www.inkululeko.org survivors of human trafficking. A scarf made by http://saksaum.com .. These items are really beautiful. Affordable and a wonderful way towww.inkululeko.org survivors of human trafficking. A scarf made by http://saksaum.com .. These items are really beautiful. Affordable and a wonderful way to help a good cause. Check out these sites or goto the Marketplace site in my profile.

R E M E M B R A N C E •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
Reposting in memory of the lives lost, the love, the hate, the anger, the grief, the differences, the rifts, the violence, the calm, the hearts broken, the hearts healed, the survivors, the heroes, the brave, the scarred, the images, the lives ever changed, the tributes, the silence, the memories, the past, the future, the prayers, the hopes for peace love and understanding throughout the world. Not just for 9•1•1 but for every conflict, every life lost. Every child’s cry. Every act of violence and hate. Why? What is the point? No GOD wants this … No matter what your beliefs. No GOD would condone bloodshed in their name. GOD is LOVE.. Love one another🙏

Road Rage Haze..
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Traffic is the bane of my existence. I considered turning around and working for home at least threes times in the forty minutes it took me to travel three miles. But I persevered.. Looks like another long day ahead. But tomorrow is Friday! Yay!

Sir Walter Raleigh (1554?–1618). Poems. 1892.
XVIII.What is our life? The play of passion
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WHAT is our life? The play of passion. Our mirth? The music of division:
Our mothers’ wombs the tiring-houses be,
Where we are dressed for life’s short comedy.
The earth the stage; Heaven the spectator is,
Who sits and views whosoe’er doth act amiss.
The graves which hide us from the scorching sun
Are like drawn curtains when the play is done.
Thus playing post we to our latest rest,
And then we die in earnest, not in jest.
Sr W. R.

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