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Jan. 30th, 2020 06:00 pm
med_cat: (cat in dress)

Hello to everyone,

This journal is mostly public because most of it contains poetry, quotations, pictures, jokes, videos, and news (medical and otherwise). In other words, all the really interesting entries are public--if you like what you see, you are welcome to drop by, anytime. I update frequently.

Please note: this is a mirror / backup site of my LJ: med_cat.livejournal.com.


(P.S. Comments on this entry are disabled because of the persistent anon spam; however, if you want to drop me a line, feel free to comment on any other entry and/or send a PM)
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med_cat: (Hourglass)

Ничего никогда не вернуть,
Как на солнце не вытравить пятна.
И в обратный отправившись путь,
Всё равно не вернёшься обратно.

Эта истина очень проста
И она, словно смерть, непреложна.
Можно в те же вернуться места,
Но вернуться назад невозможно.

[translation here--and yes, the original is rhymed]

Nothing can ever be brought back,
Just as the sunspots cannot be removed from the sun.
And setting out on the road back,
One still cannot come back to the same place.

This truth is a very simple one
And, like death, it is inexorable.
One can come back to the same location,
But one cannot ever go back.

(Nikolai Novikov)


Sep. 29th, 2017 01:18 pm
med_cat: (cat in dress)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] prettygoodword at fumitory
Theme week: flower fairies.

fumitory (FYOO-mi-tawr-ee, FYOO-mi-tohr-ee) - n., any of various Eurasian annual plants (genus Fumaria, esp. F. officinalis) having small, grey-green leaves and small, spurred, purplish flowers.

Also called fumewart and earthsmoke, the latter being a translation of the Latin-via-French name, fūmus, smoke + terrae, of the earth, apparently named after the color of the leaves.

Fumitory Fairy

Given me hundreds of years ago,
My name has a meaning you shall know:
It means, in the speech of the bygone folk,
“Smoke of the Earth”—a soft green smoke!

A wonderful plant to them I seemed;
Strange indeed were the dreams they dreamed,
Partly fancy and partly true,
About “Fumiter” and the way it grew.

Where men have ploughed or have dug the ground,
Still, with my rosy flowers, I’m found;
Known and prized by the bygone folk
As “Smoke of the Earth”—a soft green smoke!
—Cicely Mary Barker


Crossposts: http://prettygoodword.dreamwidth.org/671669.html
You can comment here or there.
med_cat: (cat in dress)
I've donated; please donate if you can, and share on LJ, FB, among your friends, etc. if you can.
I know the person who organized this campaign very well.
I can guarantee you that she will make sure the money is put to good use.

Here's the GoFundMe campaign:

Click here to support the Boricua Relief for Puerto Rico, organized by Maite Corbin
med_cat: (cat in dress)

When Blackthorn blossoms leap to sight;
They deck the hedge with starry light,
In early Spring
When rough winds blow,
Each promising
A purple sloe!

And now is Autumn here, and lo,
The Blackthorn bears the purple sloe!
But ah, how much
Too sharp these plums,
Until the touch
Of Winter comes!

med_cat: (cat in dress)

Image of the Day: Beautiful Bacteria

Artists paint with colorful microbes on agar palettes for the American Society for Microbiology's Agar Art Contest.

By The Scientist Staff | May 23, 2017

The artist, Ana Tsitsishvili from Tbilisi, Georgia, won third place with this arrangement of bacteria and fungi on brain-heart infusion agar. The common skin microbe, Staphylococcus epidermidis, is responsible for the white color; Rhodotorula mucilaginosa, common in milk, soil, and air, makes pink; Micrococcus luteus, frequently found in soil, water, air, and skin, is responsible for the lady's luscious yellow locks; Xanthomonas axonopodis, a pathogenic plant microbe, makes green. Combinations of these various microbes make up everything in between.

(Source: http://mobile.the-scientist.com/article/49485/image-of-the-day-beautiful-bacteria)


Sep. 25th, 2017 07:17 am
med_cat: (cat in dress)
Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] prettygoodword at aconite
aconite (AK-uh-nait) - n., any of about 250 plants, many of them poisonous, belonging to the genus Aconitum (in the buttercup family) having irregular flowers usually in loose clusters; any of around eight closely related plants of the genus Eranthis, more usually called winter aconite.

Also called monkshood, wolfsbane, leopardsbane, mousebane, women's bane, devil's helmet, queen of poisons, and blue rocket. Monkshood is especially applied to A. napellus, which was cultivated for medicinal purposes (and used very carefully because poisonous. Winter aconite is among the first flowers of spring where they grow. The word is from French aconit, from Latin aconītum, from Greek akonīton, the name of the plant, of uncertain origin.

Winter Aconite Fairy

Deep in the earth
I woke, I stirred.
I said: “Was that the Spring I heard?
For something called!”
“No, no,” they said;
“Go back to sleep. Go back to bed.

Up, up, I climbed,
“You’re far too soon;
The world’s too cold
For you, so small.” So I was told.
But how could I
Go back to sleep?
I could not wait; I had to peep!

And here am I.
How wide the earth! How great the sky!
O wintry world,
See me, awake!
Spring calls, and comes; ’tis no mistake.
—Cicely Mary Barker


Crossposts: http://prettygoodword.dreamwidth.org/672029.html
You can comment here or there.
med_cat: (cat in dress)
gaillardia (GAY-lahr-dee-uh) - n., any of several American composite flowers of the genus Gaillardia widely cultivated for their large red, yellow, or bicolored flower heads.

Also called blanket flower, possibly because of colors that look like Native American blankets. Named in the 1880s for Gaillard de Charentonneau, an 18th-century French amateur botanist and patron of botany.

Gaillardia Fairy

There once was a child in a garden,
Who loved all my colours of flame,
The crimson and scarlet and yellow—
But what was my name?

For Gaillardia’s hard to remember!
She looked at my yellow and red,
And thought of the gold and the glory
When the sun goes to bed;

And she troubled no more to remember,
But gave me a splendid new name;
She spoke of my flowers as Sunsets—
Then you do the same!
—Cicely Mary Barker


Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] prettygoodword at gaillardia
Crossposts: http://prettygoodword.dreamwidth.org/671848.html
You can comment here or there.
med_cat: (cat in dress)

The Poppy Fairy

The green wheat's a-growing,
The lark sings on high;
In scarlet silk a-glowing,
Here stand I.

The wheat's turning yellow,
Ripening for sheaves;
I hear the little fellow
Who scares the bird-thieves.

Now the harvest's ended,
The wheat-field is bare;
But still, red and splendid,
I am there.

Flower Fairies of the Summer | Cicely Mary Barker.
med_cat: (cat in dress)
With all delighted gratitude to [personal profile] purlewe!

"Some of our favorite postcards from our journeys at Saturn, now available in a free, downloadable e-book: https://go.nasa.gov/2y7Lc90 "

Several formats including Kindle, Apple, and straight up PDF

(reposted from [livejournal.com profile] browngirl--many thanks!)
med_cat: (cat in dress)

Реальность  и виртуальный мир)))
med_cat: (cat in dress)
My Birthday

Susan Coolidge

Who is this who gently slips
Through my door, and stands and sighs,
Hovering in a soft eclipse,
With a finger on her lips
And a meaning in her eyes?

Once she came to visit me
In white robes with festal airs,
Glad surprises, songs of glee;
Now in silence cometh she,
And a sombre garb she wears.

Once I waited and was tired,
Chid her visits as too few;
Crownless now and undesired,
She to seek me is inspired
Oftener than she used to do.

Grave her coming is and still,
Sober her appealing mien,
Tender thoughts her glances fill;
But I shudder, as one will
When an open grave is seen.

Wherefore, friend,--for friend thou art,--
Should I wrong thee thus and grieve?
Wherefore push thee from my heart?
Of my morning thou wert part;
Be a part too of my eve.

See, I hold my hand to meet
That cool, shadowy hand of thine;
Hold it firmly, it is sweet
Thus to clasp and thus to greet,
Though no more in full sunshine.

Come and freely seek my door,
I will open willingly;
I will chide the past no more,
Looking to the things before,
Led by pathways known to thee.
med_cat: (Hourglass)
Ballad of Another Ophelia

Oh, the green glimmer of apples in the orchard,
Lamps in a wash of rain,
Oh, the wet walk of my brown hen through the stackyard,
O, tears on the window pane!

Nothing now will ripen the bright green apples,
Full of disappointment and of rain,
Brackish they will taste, of tears, when the yellow dapples
Of Autumn tell the withered tale again.

All round the yard it is cluck, my brown hen,
Cluck, and the rain-wet wings,
Cluck, my marigold bird, and again
Cluck for your yellow darlings.

For the grey rat found the gold thirteen
Huddled away in the dark,
Flutter for a moment, oh the beast is quick and keen,
Extinct one yellow-fluffy spark.

. . . . . . . . .

Once I had a lover bright like running water,
Once his face was laughing like the sky;
Open like the sky looking down in all its laughter
On the buttercups -- and buttercups was I.

What then is there hidden in the skirts of all the blossom,
What is peeping from your wings, oh mother hen?
'Tis the sun who asks the question, in a lovely haste for wisdom --
What a lovely haste for wisdom is in men?

Yea, but it is cruel when undressed is all the blossom,
And her shift is lying white upon the floor,
That a grey one, like a shadow, like a rat, a thief, a rainstorm
Creeps upon her then and gathers in his store.

Oh, the grey garner that is full of half-grown apples,
Oh, the golden sparkles laid extinct -- !
And oh, behind the cloud sheaves, like yellow autumn dapples,
Did you see the wicked sun that winked?

by D.H. Lawrence

Originally posted by [livejournal.com profile] duathir at D.H. Lawrence, 'Ballad of Another Ophelia'

med_cat: (Hourglass)
If recollecting were forgetting,
Then I remember not.
And if forgetting, recollecting,
How near I had forgot.
And if to miss--were merry,
And to mourn--were gay,
How very blithe the fingers
That gathered this, Today!

(Emily Dickinson)

med_cat: (woman reading)

In observance of the 16th anniversary of 9/11, we're sharing the story of one courageous F-16 pilot who was ready to give her life to bring down United Airlines Flight 93 before the hijacked plane reached Washington. Heather “Lucky” Penney, the first female F-16 pilot at the 121st Fighter Squadron of the D.C. Air National Guard, was at Andrews Air Force Base when her squadron learned that planes had already struck the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. Word quickly came in about a fourth plane heading toward Washington and, although the jets were only armed with dummy bullets for training, it was determined that someone had to fly now. Penney, who was 25 years old at the time, says that the plan became apparent immediately: "We wouldn’t be shooting it down. We’d be ramming the aircraft. I would essentially be a kamikaze pilot... We had to protect the airspace any way we could.”Read more... )

(from A Mighty Girl FB pg)
med_cat: (cat in dress)
From Elizabeth Gilbert's FB; thought some of you might be interested in checking it out; I think I'll have a look myself :)

Dear Ones:

I am so honored to be part of this wonderful offering from Sounds True.

It's called The Self-Acceptance Summit.

I'm guessing you can figure out what it's about, based on the title!

It's an online gathering of so many great thinkers teachers (Martha Beck, Iyanla Vanzant, Marianne Williamson, etc) — all of them puzzling their way through questions about what it takes to suspend self-hatred and self-judgment, and how to find compassion for the one person whose soul is undeniably in your care: You.

Registration is open now, and my interview will be available today at noon.

Click here for more information:


ETA: I did check it out, the very first video presenter tried to sell me lifetime access for $147 (nope, not buying), so...caveat emptor? Some of the upcoming videos sound interesting, though, so will check 'em out as time permits...


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