Song for Maundy Thursday: when your political clout is gone all is lost

It IS Autumn out there. Really, it is. It’s pouring with rain, but the rain is soft, the air is mild, the flowers are beginning to bring colour to the black earth, the birds are singing in the evening. We had a laughing kookabaras teasing us in the garden a couple of weeks ago too. And in High Tatra there is bitter snow - no sign of spring according to Gitka ... Still 275 priests invaded Andrej's residence hail or shine...

There haven't been many modern worship songs written specifically Maundy Thursday ...

Love is what you make it. Whatever you call love, it's all good.

Love your neighbors, like the Samaritans, except the hateful ones.

RT @rcsprouljr: #thingsJesusneversaid When the culture despises you/when perversion is protected & celebrated/when your political clout is gone all is lost. 

Song for Maundy Thursday

How to remember everything with or without a mind palace.

Yeats steered Ireland away from science, beginning in 1889: “There are two boats going to sea. In which shall we sail? There is the little boat of science. Every century a new little boat of science starts and is shipwrecked; and yet again another puts forth, gaily laughing at its predecessors. Then there is the great galleon of tradition, and on board it travel the great poets and dreamers of the past.”