TheBanyanTree: A Special Request

[trebro at att.net]

Getting to this late, I know, but...

...it's funny, but even though I wasn't as close to YB as the rest of you 
were, I have strong memories of the stories by and about her on the Spoony-
Tree.  Whenever she's mentioned, I have no trouble conjuring up my mental 
picture of her, a wild-child person flying on the back of a motorcycle, 
thinking thoughts of the world and the reveling in the things most of us tend 
to take for granted.

She's definitely missed, and never forgotten.

-Rob
> For those of you who emailed me privately asking me "What" was a YB...
> well... smiles
> 
> It's not a "What", it's more like a "Who".  Thank You Alice for extending a
> blue feather for all here in the tree to breath in, savor and hold dear.
> 
> So from now on for those who wonder... Thanks to Alice... You don't have to
> wonder anymore.
> 
> This is a YB aka Youngblood aka Nanci Brasket.  Long she will live, right
> here in this big ole Banyan Tree.
> 
> Crow
> 
> http://www.coldnosed.com/farmstyle.htm
> 
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: <alf at io.com>
> To: <thebanyantree-remsset.com at lists.remsset.com>
> Sent: Tuesday, December 09, 2003 11:38 AM
> Subject: TheBanyanTree: A Special Request
> 
> 
> >
> > Where goes passion?
> >
> > It sneaks away in the night, while we are fast asleep dreaming
> > of other worlds, exploring other dimensions.
> >
> > It dies at the hands of thoughtless lovers,
> > in selfish backrooms where Desire raises her siren song.
> >
> > It drips slowly onto the carpet, so silently we do not know a leak exists.
> > Then one day the roof caves in.
> >
> > It hovers on the edge of our consciousness and mocks our pathetic need for
> > it, smiling all the while at the power it holds, secretly pleased by our
> > bondage.
> >
> > It bolts from our arms, frightened by grim reality.
> >
> > It stands apart from us and is bemused by our naivete.
> >
> > It teases the limits of our endurance, our imagination; it surrenders us
> to
> > the greater whole wrapped in chains of our own unawareness.
> >
> > It soars overhead, swooping and diving, dazzling us with the brilliance of
> > sunlight on its wings.
> >
> > It paws at our frozen ground, trying to dig a hole in which to bury the
> > bones of our ignorance.
> >
> > It swims in the Sea of Possibility, yet never gets wet.
> >
> > It grows in the deepest parts of us, unobserved and unrecognized.
> >
> > It comes to us in the Hour of the Wolf, urging us to persevere in the face
> > of wily and unpredictable odds.
> >
> > It simmers on the backburner of our love, waiting for us to turn up the
> flame.
> >
> > It flies out the window like a frightened bird, flapping its wings and
> > squawking, and rushes headlong into the banyan tree.
> >
> > So goes passion.
> >
> >
> > youngblood   Sun 19 degrees Sagittarius 1998/ Moon in Libra
> >
> > http://www.io.com/~stargazr/stories.html
> >
> >     ~*~
> >   ~*~alf~*~
> > ~*~@io.com~*~
> >
> > "I once tried to save a cat whom the dogs had chased up a tree.
> > Some of us simply prefer our own hell over someone else's good intentions.
> > I still have the scars to prove it."
> >
> alice
> >
> >
> >
>