St.Louis Cathedral, THE END OF THE ROAD

We all know the famous St. Louis Cathedral in NOLA.

However if you ever took a walk down Royal Street at night you 

would see the beautiful site of God's shadow largely on the back side of the Cathedral.

It is this vision that my friend, Tina sent me to put on my list to paint.

I have seen this myself and always wanted to paint it but just never did.

Her photo is what finally had me commit to doing it.

I have seen many photos and painting of the front of the Cathedral 

and there are many photos of this image but I don't see many paintings of it.

As I searched through endless sheets of music as I now do with each 

home portrait I do, when I came across the

 END OF THE ROAD

I knew it was the correct words for what this image means to me.

 Although the address of this side of St. Louis Cathedral is

Pere Antoine Alley, it can be clearly and best seen from 

the streets of Royal and Bourbon Street.

I imagined a man or woman, down on their luck, out drinking 

and/our drugging on the streets of Bourbon.

As they are stumbling and thinking their life has not purpose,

they have chased away all the people who love them, they turn to their left

and there, at the end of the road they see the image of God.

They are transformed, they know what to do, When you think you 

are at the end of your road, choose God.

Yeah, I know, a deep thinker I am.

I hope when looking at this image you too know that

When we come to the END OF OUR ROAD 

it really is just the beginning of His Road.

Thanks for going along with me on this journey in my head.

TIME...

 My Dad, for as long as I knew him awakened each morning at 4AM.

As a child, Just thought that is what Daddy's do,

as a teenager, I knew I had to be home before 4am or there would be trouble.

I often wondered why he would wake up so early even on days he

was not going fishing. 

Now, as I have blogged about many times, getting older myself

I finally understand it as I find myself up most morning at the crack of dawn.

Age never bothered me much, I was not one of those that regretted birthdays

or went into depression when I turned 40 or even 50.

Something happened when Simone died, I realized that I am considered

an older person to many. A Senior Citizen to some.

Time that used to pass so slow as a child, now seems like

before I realize it, it is late afternoon and another day is gone.

I don't want to waste time sleeping, I want to wake early, get my

Cottage in order and paint or visit.

Time spent sleeping is necessary but sleeping late into the morning

is no longer something I crave like that of a teenager.

Therefore, i find myself waking up at a time in the morning like my Daddy.

At 4:00am before most are up to pray, blog, journal, plan my day.

If I happen to sleep until 6, I feel cheated of a few hours.

I get it now, Daddy. I know you didn't think you would die at 63,

but you knew your time here on Earth had now become less than more.

It's a realization that must come to many and the calendar years may differ,

but we all dying a little more each day so make the best of it.

SOUND OF SILENCE

I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED THE SONG, THE SOUND OF SILENCE

BY SIMON AND GARFUNKEL, WRITTEN BY PAUL SIMON.

IT IS NOT ONE I THINK OF OFTEN THESE DAYS BUT A FRIEND

RECENTLY SENT IT TO ME VIA TEXT WHICH BROUGHT IT BACK 

TO MY FRONTAL LOBE AND SINCE THEN I HAVE LISTENED AND

CONTEMPLATED THE MEANING OF IT.

THE RENDITION SENT TO ME IS SUNG BY A BAND CALLED DISTURBED

AND THE VIDEO TO IT IS AMAZING, AS WELL AS THE SINGERS VOICE.

MY WHOLE LIFE, I BELIEVED IT WAS ABOUT A MAN FINDING GOD

WHERE WORDS WERE NOT NEEDED TO EXPRESS THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS,

A PLACE I THOUGHT OF AS BEING PERHAPS, A SLICE OF HEAVEN.

HOWEVER ON LISTENING TO 'DISTURBED SING IT I HAVE

REALIZED THIS MAY NOT BE THE CORRECT MESSAGE BEING SENT TO ME.

FOR AT THE END OF THE SONG, THE MAN SPEAKS

BUT NO ONE HEARS HIM IN THE SILENCE. 

HE TRIES TO WARN THE PEOPLE THAT THE GOD THEY ARE 

WORSHIPING IS NOT THE TRUE SENSE BUT THE ONE  OF MATERIALISM.

THAT THERE ON THE BUILDINGS AND WALLS, IS THEIR GOD.

 Sound of Silence

Hello darkness, my old friend

I've come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

And the vision that was planted in my brain

Still remains

Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams, I walked alone

Narrow streets of cobblestone

'Neath the halo of a street lamp

I turned my collar to the cold and damp

When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light

That split the night

And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light, I saw

Ten thousand people, maybe more

People talking without speaking

People hearing without listening

People writing songs that voices never shared

And no one dared

Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools" said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows

Hear my words that I might teach you

Take my arms that I might reach you"

But my words, like silent raindrops fell

And echoed in the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed

To the neon god they made

And the sign flashed out its warning

In the words that it was forming

Then the sign said, "The words on the prophets are written on the subway walls

In tenement halls"

And whispered in the sound of silence

WOW! HOW PROPHETIC IS MY NEW UNDERSTANDING.

I AM NOT GOOD WITH SILENCE.

EVEN WHEN I AM ALONE I AM HUMMING SOME TUNE ALOUD.

MY HEAD IS ALWAYS THINKING OR TALKING TO MYSELF.

WHEN IN CONVERSATION, I HAVE A BAD HABIT OF HAVING TO 

MAKE SURE THERE IS TALK. 

I HAVE OFTEN CALLED THIS MY DIARRHEA OF THE MOUTH.

YET, AS I REFLECT ON THIS BEAUTIFUL SONG,

I REALIZE THAT WORDS AND FEELINGS IS HOW I GROW INTIMATE

WITH ANOTHER PERSON. IF PEOPLE ARE AFRAID OR UNABLE

TO TELL ME THEIR TRUE FEELINGS I TEND TO NOT HAVE

MUCH SPACE FOR THEM IN MY LIFE.

I HAVE BEEN TOLD BEFORE MY WORDS CAN SOMETIMES BE BRUTALLY HONEST

BUT I DON'T THINK ANYONE CAN SAY I HAVE NOT SHARED

TRUE THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS WHEN IT MATTERED.

HENCE, THIS BLOG, HAVING TO SHARE MY THOUGHTS WITH 

ANYONE WHO CHOOSES TO READ.

SO TODAY I LEAVE YOU WITH YOUR OWN THOUGHTS

ABOUT THE SOUND OF SILENCE 

AS I THANK MY GOD, FOR THE GIFT OF GAB.

EVELYN AND NICHOLAS EVANS

LIKE MANY, I HAVE BEEN LOOKING FOR THINGS

TO WATCH ON MY PAD AS I PAINT.

NETFLIX GOT MY ATTENTION WITH A NEW DOCUSERIES, EVELYN.

IT'S A MUST SEE, A FAMILY SEARCHING FOR ANSWERS

MANY YEARS AFTER THE SUICIDE OF THEIR BROTHER,

DECIDE TO TAKE A MONTH LONG HIKE IN ALL THE

PLACES THEIR BROTHER, EVELYN WALKED.

WORD OF CAUTION, KLEENEX WILL BE NEEDED.

AT THE VERY END, THE MOST BEAUTIFUL POEM IS READ

BY THE ELDEST BROTHER, ORLANDO.

THEY EVEN JOKE AFTER ALL THE TEARS ABOUT 

HOW THEY DON'T KNOW WHO WROTE IT.

WHICH HAD ME SEARCHING FOR THE HISTORY BEHIND 

THOSE BEAUTIFUL WORDS THIS MORNING.

WHAT I HAVE FOUND IS THAT IT IS WRITTEN BY 

AUTHOR NICHOLAS EVANS WHO ALSO WROTE

THE HORSE WHISPERER, A WELL KNOWN BOOK.

I ALSO FOUND OUT THAT HE AND FRIENDS 

WERE POISONED IN 2008 AFTER EATING WILD MUSHROOMS

THEY FOUND. ALL HAD TO BE ON KIDNEY DIALYSIS

AND IN 2011 HE WAS DONATED A KIDNEY FROM HIS DAUGHTER

AND CONTINUES TO WRITE.

THE THINGS YOU CAN FIND THANKS TO THE WWW.

I LEAVE YOU WITH THESE BEAUTIFUL WORDS ABOUT DEATH

AND HOPE IT GIVES YOU COMFORT AND A SENSE OF PEACE

AS IT DID ME AS I CONTINUE TO MOURN THE LOSS OF MY SISTER.

  Walk Within You by Nicholas Evans

If I be the first of us to die, Let grief not blacken long your sky.

Be bold yet modest in your grieving. There is a change but not a leaving.

For just as death is part of life, The dead live on forever in the living. And all the gathered riches of our journey, The moments shared, the mysteries explored, The steady layering of intimacy stored,

The things that made us laugh or weep or sing, The joy of sunlit snow or first unfurling of the spring,

The wordless language of look and touch, The knowing, Each giving and each taking, These are not flowers that fade, Nor trees that fall and crumble, Nor are they stone,

For even stone cannot the wind and rain withstand And mighty mountain peaks in time reduce to sand.

What we were, we are. What we had, we have. A conjoined past imperishably present.

So when you walk the woods where once we walked together And scan in vain the dappled bank beside you for my shadow,

Or pause where we always did upon the hill to gaze across the land, And spotting something, reach by habit for my hand,

And finding none, feel sorrow start to steal upon you,

Be still. Clear your eyes. Breathe.

Listen for my footfall in your heart. I am not gone but merely walk within you.