Tag Archives: desire


File:The Earth seen from Apollo 17.jpgThe Blue Marble  Wikipedia File:The Earth seen from Apollo 17.jpg



Earth is a rock; Earth has no opinions; it cannot think, it cannot speak;  however…

Earth has a belief system.

If Earth could speak, it would say…

“I am hurtling through space in a perfectly straight line. I am not sure of my destination but I will arrive at the earliest possible time. Nothing can deter me; nothing can slow me down; I am following a perfectly plotted, straight path.  I am going where no Rock has ever gone before. I am Earth.”   

Of course, in reality this strong-willed rock has been in orbit for a very long time.  And so have you and I and everything else in the universe.

And that’s the Truth.


“Affirmations don’t work for me”.

kid artist

One person affirms:  “Affirmations don’t work for me”.

Another person avers that any thought, which occupies a person’s mind more than once is an affirmation.

Thus affirmed, this thought is destined to become an idea to be developed.

This idea will become a value, a bias, a prejudice.

This idea may become a work of art, a grand design, another life.

This idea will have by this time helped to define a personality.

This idea will change the world.

What do you believe?

By Lee Broom.


Lee’s Diary November 27, 2013



I could feel myself dying.

If my body has a trillion cells I was losing a thousand of them per second.

I called a friend. I walked as I talked, describing to him what was happening (or not), trying to find words in a brain that had been through this same identical experience only a week before but which I had shared with no one, not even after the fact.

“Am I dying John?”

“What does it feel like, Lee?”

One word seemed to fit, the word was “darkness” but it described a feeling – not a dimming departure of recently improved eyesight but a farewell to the welfare, which Life and Love may offer.

Inside me, throughout all of me, I was dark meat and I was growing darker.

The friend I had called was Jiggs’ Boy, John; we (mostly “I”) continued to talk.

“Will I live through this night?” I asked.

“Did I have a stroke?” I wondered.

“A heart-attack?” Perhaps.

“Did the darkness imply evil?” voiced “Little Lee”.

“Will I go to Hell?” I asked The Rest Of Me?

Talking and walking lifted my spirit and repaired the rheostat of the light within – my dying cells began a welcome revival.

I felt a Spiritual Presence and asked for a safe place for whatever was left of that which I think of as “Me” after this apparent departure from the material world had completed its metamorphosis and I wondered if my theories about God were correct.

Is The Creator of all things The Source of Love or the source of fear? Am I about to become a pillar of salt?

“Do you want me to come over?”

“I’m afraid I’m dying, John.”

“Do you want me to come over and watch you die?”

I laughed. Jiggs’ boy chuckled.

Note: This page from my diary will be in a forthcoming book,



thanksgiving, komorne hurka, zimichka 102

About doing: Accept The Love and pass it on.

About Being: Accept The Love and pass it on.


In order for Love to be unconditional it must be Self Love.

In order for the intended object of Love to benefit (everyone else) we must pass it on.

Helping others without getting discovered may be a good way.

The more we “pass it on” the more content, confident and stalwart we become.

Accept The Love   (One through Eleven) and pass it on (That would beTwelve).




I love the way he expresses himself.
But did you hear what he was saying?

Interesting painting.
Yes but do you like it?

She really stands out in a crowd.
Yes, but have you met her?


He was a quiet one; yes he was; always looking for solutions, inventing a better way to get a desired result in less time or with an improvement of some sort. And then John met Cathy.

To bed and beyond, his moments of studious repose, now naught but a memoire, his lab rats mere pets and his need for intellectual stimulation limited to thirty ways to tie a knot in the silk appendage now dangling daily from the collar of his Saville Rowe shirt, John looked around the art gallery  and vowed to change his name, arresting his quest for the old life. He would abandon all and become Rupert the Right.

Goodbye Cathy Dear, here; you may have this as a memoire. Unbuttoning his collar brought a sigh that became a gasp as his lungs inflated with the promise of freedom and new frontiers; “Here is my tie with the Windsor knot; the knot is naught but a naughty memoire. Keep it” he said. “hang it on the bed post” he added.” And Rupert nee John, once left, now right, went shopping.