Rocky Mountain High

A song by John Denver and for my new found love of the mountains....

He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Comin' home to a place he'd never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door

When he first came to the mountains his life was far away
On the road and hangin' by a song
But the string's already broken and he doesn't really care
It keeps changin' fast and it don't last for long

But the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
The shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullabye
Rocky mountain high

He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend but kept his memory

Now he walks in quiet solitude the forest and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake

And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply
Rocky mountain high

Now his life is full of wonder but his heart still knows some fear
Of a simple thing he cannot comprehend
Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more
More people, more scars upon the land

And the Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly
Rocky mountain high

It's Colorado rocky mountain high
I've seen it rainin' fire in the sky
Friends around the campfire and everybody's high
Rocky mountain high

Love...

"Someday, after we have mastered the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God, the energies of love. Then, for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire."

-Teilhard de Chardin

(As quoted by Ruskin Bond)

When to take my name off the door...

This speech was delivered by Leo Burnett at a meeting of the entire Chicago Burnett office on December 1, 1967.

'When to take my name off the door'

"Somewhere along the line, after I’m finally off the premises, you – or your successors – may want to take my name off the premises, too.

You may want to call yourselves " Twain, Rogers, Sawyer and Finn, Inc."….. or "Ajax Advertising" or something.

That will certainly be OK with me – if it’s good for you.

But let me tell you when I might demand that you take my name off the door.

That will be the day when you spend more time trying to make money and less time making advertising – our kind of advertising.

When you forget that the sheer fun of ad making and the lift you get out of it – the creative climate of the place – should be as important as money to the very special breed of writers and artists and business professionals who compose this company of ours – and make it tick.

When you lose that restless feeling that nothing you do is ever quite good enough.

When you lose your itch to the job well for it’s sake – regardless of the client, or money, or the effort it takes.

When you lose your passion for thoroughness…you hatred of loose ends.

When you stop reaching the manner, the overtones, the marriage of words and pictures that produce the fresh, the memorable and the believable effect.

When you stop rededicating yourselves every day to the idea that better advertising is what the Leo Burnett Company is about.

When you are no longer what Thoreau called "a corporation with a conscience" – which means to me, a corporation of conscientious men and women.

When you begin to compromise your integrity – which has always been the heart’s blood – the very guts of this agency.

When you stoop to convenient expediency and rationalize yourselves into acts of opportunism – for the sake of a fast buck.

When you show the slightest sign of crudeness, inappropriateness or smart –aleckness – and you lose that subtle sense of the fitness of things.

When your main interest becomes a matter of size just to be big - rather that good, hard, wonderful work.

When your outlook narrows down to the number of windows – from zero to five – in the walls of your office.

When you lose your humility and become big-short wisenheimers…. a little bit too big for your boots.

When the apples come down to being just apples for eating (or for polishing) – no longer part of our tone or personality.

When you disprove of something, and start tearing the hell out of the man who did it rather than the work itself.

When you stop building on strong and vital ideas, and start a routine production line.

When you start believing that, in the interest of efficiency, a creative spirit and the urge to create can be delegated and administrated, and forget that they can only be nurtured, stimulated, and inspired.

When you start giving lip service to this being a "creative agency" and stop really being one.

Finally, when you lose your respect for the lonely man – the man at his typewriter or his drawing board or behind his camera or just scribbling notes with one of our big pencils – or working all night on a media plan. When you forget that the lonely man – and thank God for him – has made the agency we now have – possible. When you forget he’s the man who, because he is reaching harder, sometimes actually gets hold of for a moment - one of those hot, unreachable stars.

THAT, boys and girls, is when I shall insist you take my name off the door. And by golly, it will be taken off the door. Even if have to materialize long enough some night to rub it out myself - on every one of our floors. And before I DE-materialize again, I will paint out that star-reaching symbol too. And burn all the stationary. Perhaps tear up a few ads in passing.

And throw every god-damned apple down the elevator shafts.

You just won’t know the place, the next morning. You’ll have to find another name."

If

One of my favourite poems, by Rudyard Kipling, it makes an aweful lot of sense to me. Much like the previous post, it still has a sort of charm about it, despite accusations of being sexist...

If you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;

If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,

But make allowance for their doubting too;

If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,

Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,

Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,

And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;

If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;

If you can meet with triumph and disaster

And treat those two imposters just the same;

If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken

Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,

Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,

And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,

And lose, and start again at your beginnings

And never breath a word about your loss;

If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To serve your turn long after they are gone,

And so hold on when there is nothing in you

Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;

If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;

If all men count with you, but none too much;

If you can fill the unforgiving minute

With sixty seconds' worth of distance run

- Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,

And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

The Invitation- Oriah Mountain Dreamer

It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing.

It doesn’t interest me how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me what planets are squaring your moon...
I want to know if you have touched the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.

I want to know if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it
or fade it
or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.

I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty
every day.
And if you can source your own life from its presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon,“Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done
to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire
with me
and not shrink back.

It doesn’t interest me where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.

Lyrics I Love

These are parts of songs I really. Not in any particular order. Don't really know why I am posting it, but I listen to the whole song only for the couple of lines...

1. दफ्न करदो हमें कि साँस मिले,

नब्स कुछ देर से थमी सी है।

2. बावरा सा हो अँधेरा बावरी खामोशिया,

थरथराती लौ हो मद्धम, बावरी मधोशिया,

3. The touch of your hand says you'll catch me whenever i fall,

You say it best, when you say nothing at all.

4. I hope you still feel small when you stand beside the ocean,

Whenever one door closes, I hope one more opens.

5. ..And the silence makes a beautiful sound...

6. ...and you never ask questions, when God's on your side.

Through many dark hours I have been thinking about this,

That Jesus Christ was betrayed by a kiss.

But I can't think for you, you have to decide,

Whether Judas Iscarious had God on his side.

7. What if God was one of us, just a slob like one of us,

Just a stranger on the bus, trying to make his way home.

8. You were to close for comfort, too far out of reach.

9. दोस्तों से झूठे-मूठे दूसरों का नाम लेके, तेरी मेरी बातें करना।

10. जैसे झील में लहराए चंदा,

जैसे भीड़ में अपने का कन्धा

Shaurya Kya Hai?

शौर्य क्या है
थरथराती इस धरती को रौन्गति फौजियों की एक पलटन का शोर
या सहमे से आसमान को चीरता हुआ, बंदूको की सलामी का शोर
शौर्य क्या है, हरी वर्दी पर चमकते हुए चंद पीतल के सितारे
या सरहद का नाम देकर अनदेखी कुछ लकीरों की नुमाइश

शौर्य क्या है
दूर उड़ते खामोश परिंदे को गोलियों से भुन देने का एहसास
या शोलों की बरसात से पल भर में
एक शहर को शमशान बना देने का एशास
शौर्य, बहती बीआस में किसी के गर्म खून का हौले से सुर्ख हो जाना
या अंजनी किसी जन्नत की फिराक में, पल पल का दोजक बनते जाना
बरुदोसे धुन्धलाये इस आस्मान में, शौर्य क्या है

वादियों की गूंजते किसी गाँव से मातम में, शौर्य क्या है
शौर्य, शायद एक होसला, शायद एक हिम्मत, हमारे बहुत अंदर
मज़हब के बनाये दायरे तोड़ कर, किसीका हाथ थाम लेने की हिम्मत
गोलियों की बेतहाशा शोर को अपनी खामोशी से चुनोती डे पाने की हिम्मत
मरती मारती इस दुनिया में निहात्ते डेट रहने की हिम्मत

शौर्य, आने वाले कल की खातिर
अपने हिस्से की कायनात को, आज बचा लेने की हिम्मत
शौर्य क्या है

I'm drinking from my saucer, 'cos my cup has overflowed...

Someone forwarded me this poem. It isn't mine, but I relate to it a lot.

I've never made a fortune,
and its probably too late now.
But I don't worry about that much,
I'm happy anyhow.
As I go along life's way,
I'm reaping more than I sowed.
I'm drinking from my saucer,
'cos my cup has overflowed.

Haven't got a lot of riches,
and sometimes the goings tough.
But i've got loving ones around me and
that makes me rich enough.

I thank god for all his blessings,
and the mercies He's bestowed.
I'm drinking from my saucer,
'cos my cup has overflowed.

I remember when things went wrong,
and my faith wore somewhat thin.
But all at once the dark clouds broke,
and the sun peeped through again.
So Lord, help me not to gripe,
about the tough rows I have hoed.
I'm drinking from my saucer,
'cos my cup has overflowed.

If god gives me strength and courage,
when the way grows steep and rough.
I'll not ask for other blessings,
I'm already blessed enough.
And may I never be too busy,
to help others bear their loads.
Then i'll keep drinking from my saucer,
'cos my cup has overflowed.