Dancing Words

A Little Thought

2012-01-27T13:58:00.000-08:00

Life keeps me in an exploring state, how about you? There are so many dances we do whether it's a tango or slow sway, we're occasionally being the partner who leads and other days we are the partner who steps on toes. I get into trouble when I do both. It works best for me these days to observe. Observe the situation, doing the best I can without judging what is in front of my eyes. As the ancient saying goes, "may be bad, may be good, who knows." Try to remain neutral.

Delicious Sunday

2012-01-22T21:13:00.000-08:00

Today was an absolutely delicious Sunday kind of love. There's a warm breeze outside after the thunderstorm we had in Kansas, in January! The first tasty bite started with meeting a friend at a coffee shop, armed with our latest books to share, stimulating conversation and an equal amount of listening to the other. The energy was charged so we took the party to the art museum. We spoke about American artists who went to Paris, never to return, Italian museum guides who charged a price to turn lights on if patrons wanted to see the art, a wooden carving of lovers with Cupid's story of shooting arrows, oh my, endless stories we conjured. Happiness is contagious and as long as the ball was rolling, we visited China, a gallery packed with juicy bits of information. I was so thankful to have left my husband at home, he wouldn't have liked the menu.

" Happiness consists in activity. It is running steam, not a stagnant pool." ~ Oliver Wendall Holmes ~

Reflections/ Happy Martin Luther King Day

2012-01-16T21:41:00.000-08:00

"Not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character." Martin Luther King~
Times change. I believe everything evolves and improves, always changing into a higher condition. I'm old enough to remember stories that I heard about black slaves. They were shameful and made a little girl from Kansas cry in her pillow at night. We lived on a quiet street with a dead end road, you could turn left or right but straight went into a field. The field where black men camped out near the railroad tracks. My friends said we lived in "nigger town" and asked if I was scared. It hurt bad the day I heard that question and made me want to redecorate my mom's living room but since she liked it the way it was, I decided I would plant flowers and make it so beautiful that nobody would be scared of my street. The street that blew wind up my nostrils while riding my bike, no hands on the handle bar with my brother, sisters and black best friends. A safe street where I had way too many mothers because back then everyone was your mama if we did wrong we were scolded by whoever saw us doing bad. We shared tomatoes from each others gardens and iced tea on the porch. I'm old enough to remember my dad saying how good things were getting for the colored folk. He told stories about the signs in his boyhood town back in Arkansas that warned black men to get the hell out of town before sunset or they would be found hanging by their toes. He'd shiver at the thought, munch a piece of ice and then tell us to quit eavesdropping.
All those stories, some good, some too bad to retell but still things were changing, slightly improving. The city built a fast moving four lane road on my old street, many of the neighbors have died or moved. Today I reflected on the many people who marched for change, the ones who died and sacrificed for us. We were ignorant and may God forgive us our past but now we do better. I leave this story with another story. The one about Julie and her new best friend. She adored this new girl, wanted to perm her straight hair so she could have curly hair like the new friend. "Mom, my friend is so pretty, she has a suntan and it's winter!" I suggested we have her over to play and we set the table with cookies and flowers. The surprise was meeting "Tara". She wasn't tan, she was a black girl! I laughed to myself that night and Julie worried that I didn't like her new friend. I just remember hugging her and saying how much I loved her little eyes that could see such beauty. So many things evolve and improve if we just keep our faith in the best, plant lots of flowers and let the wind blow. Happy Martin Luther King day to all.

Love by Numbers

2012-01-13T21:43:00.000-08:00

The last to get picked on a team but nobody told them he wasn't into sports. You aren't invisible and never have been.

Sandy JorgensenJan 12, 2012 12:02 PM
I see your true colors and that's why I love you.

What a coincidence! Anybody notice all of the 12's? The 8:22 time adds up to a 12 also. After checking my blog's stats, I noticed someone had read this old short post but the video that was attached had been removed so I decided to comment with the words that were in the song. I like when numbers try to tell me that all is in tune, full of reds, tangerines, blues and lemon yellows!

A Fine Christmas Tea

2011-12-22T22:54:00.000-08:00

"Enjoy life sip by sip, not gulp by gulp." ~ Author Unknown~

My mother knows that a fine Christmas tea is best after the tree has been decorated and "smack dab" in the middle of hectic December on a Saturday afternoon. It's an intimate affair for my sisters, daughters, nieces and my small granddaughter. The invitation is by phone, to one person, spread like gossip because she thinks she has told everyone, maybe it's a queen's way. She is our queen and the promise of chicken salad in puffed pastry, tea cakes, chocolate truffles and berries commands all to a halt. For one day there will be no laundry, emails won't be answered, unfinished projects will remain unfinished.
Over the potholes and through the traffic we drove to grandmother's house we went. Some were in heels, some were in flats and one in the back was wearing her new pink boots, a good day for a fine Christmas tea until I was rear ended from the back! The woman behind us was laughing with her passenger, I felt rage taking over. Who drives that fast without paying attention? I have a baby girl in the back seat! There wasn't any damage, we were all fine but I couldn't release the uninvited anger towards this stranger. A stranger wearing chains and feathers around her neck with furry boots and burgundy painted hair who had a hard time talking without laughing. Our lives weren't a joke and tiny Kaitlyn said, "Wham! We got hit. I am so glad I was wearing a seat belt grandma!"

Tea parties! I would be home safe without them, cleaning house and getting things done but we were dressed up so onward we drove. The warm sweet tea calmed my emotions and my sisters' conversation melted the memory of our wreck. Thinking back on that day, I remember my daughter commenting on the woman's excessive amount of necklaces and Kaitlyn asking in a most angelic voice, "is she going to our tea party?" to which her accessorized aunt said, "oooh, no!" This little four year old child, living as a zen master, free from judgement and purely in the moment, able to forget the wrong. I learned much from the tea of 2011.

"tea parties were invented by little girls who one day became great grandmothers."
1. Allow yourself one day to play without work or worry.
2. Invite your closest companions for conversation.
3. Sip your tea, never gulp, take life slowly.
4. A tea pot has its neck in hot water and manages to sing.
5. Try not to count other people's necklaces.
6. Laugh, laugh out loud.
7. Forget the past.

Flu Season

2011-11-22T21:19:00.000-08:00

Safe behind a wall of glass sat Ermyl, the lady who manned the fort at the local community center and all the old men loved her. An eighty plus year old hottie is what she was, born and raised on a farm where work was her only friend. Her hair was dark and she didn't care that it should be gray because it made her feel pretty when it was colored besides that's how it was when her father was alive. She lived with her son and man was he lazy, how would he take care of her now that her eyes were going. Neither one of them drove much but they liked to cook and I always knew what she was fixing for dinner. Ermyl was afraid of catching the flu, so much that her bottle of hand sanitizer remained behind the wall of glass.
After a long winded conversation with Ermyl, she would grumble, "Card! Slide your card under the window," where she would slather protective germ killer lotion on her wrinkled hands. This was prime timing to mention something about myself such as what I was cooking for dinner or how the tree in the front was loaded with apples, perfect for a Thanksgiving cobbler to which she'd reply, "uh huh, yea, ok now, goodbye~!"
My old community center was torn down and replaced with a park. I don't think Ermyl is alive any more but we laugh often thinking about her. Thanksgiving is one day away, wash your hands, it's cold and flu season. Be kind to the relatives and your friends, don't throw up on anyone and remember to take turns telling tales.

Farmer's Market Detour

2011-10-12T21:00:00.000-07:00

"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing; the last of the human freedoms~to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." ~ Viktor Frankl

The plan was all about going to the farmer's market, buying pumpkins, heirloom tomatoes and dancing outside with the local musicians. The surprise was an empty parking lot much to the horror of the back seat passenger who was head strong about buying a pumpkin. We blamed it on October, decided to have lunch at another place. Our little back seat passenger requested a window seat with pumpkins, lots of pumpkins and a chocolate shake. There weren't any detour signs so we cranked up the music and drove to wherever. Lucky for us, the new plan landed us in a small vegan restaurant in an old neighborhood oozing with a patina of brick, flowering vines and oodles of vintage.

What to our wandering eyes should appear, but a window seat of pillows in oranges and reds with

pumpkins, lots of pumpkins! The back seat passenger had trouble hiding her smile.

Healthy chocolate shake with almond milk so big it takes two to drink...$6, faux mac and cheese with cashew butter...$4, rainbow veggie taco wrapped in a collard green...$10, letting go of the plan, PRICELESS!

Happy Birthday Jim!

2011-09-01T21:33:00.000-07:00

Happy birthday Jim. I wonder what you're doing now that your days are being spent in the after life? We know you came around on occasion, it's been a while, but we knew you were there. You had a short life making us laugh, giving wedgies and smoking. It was a little scary to smell cigarette smoke in the house after you had died and nobody smoked. You almost gave your nephew a heart attack when you appeared at the foot of his bed the day of your funeral. He may have been less afraid if his bedroom wasn't in the basement. I enjoyed the time you interrupted the sermon at the new spiritualist church I was checking out with your other nephew the skeptic. The look on his face was worth a million bucks. "I have a Jim present. Sorry to interrupt the sermon but he says to tell a gentleman by the name of Charlie that he loves him.", I remember a woman behind us say. Priceless! Your
appearances to your mom, my mother-in-law helped her open her mind. She won't talk about it but we saw her tears and heard her trembling voice. She no longer makes fun of people who can see the diseased.
We loved you much. Coincidentally, your old girl friend called me tonight out of the blue. I haven't heard from her in months, she forgot it was your birthday. Well, it's late and I'm tired, thanks for the memories.

Your sister in law

Hawa, My Gratitude Reminder

2011-08-24T20:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday on the way to the grocery store, it was hard for me to make a right at the four way stop because of the woman who was jogging slowly in the street. Our eyes met and I thought to myself for a second about how dangerous it was for her to be so close to my car. I knew her ! She was the little girl who used to walk past my car when I was the carpool mom at middle school. There was something different about her back then. The other kids would walk in droves, talking over each other, yelling, some cussed and some flirted, all this to my observing eyes.This girl seldom had a friend. She was so black, like a crayola black. Her walk was purposeful as if she treasured the way each step felt to her feet and when she walked past my car, she wasn't afraid to look me in the eyes and smile. I looked forward to our daily exchange and wondered who was the white lady in the red station wagon that gave her a ride. Sometimes I felt mad at the woman because she was always on a cell phone laughing and from my view, it didn't seem like she paid any attention to the girl.

I usually wore my old paint clothes to pick up my kids because I was a faux painter while they were in school. My nails were dirty and sometimes paint was still on my face in spots. This embarrassed me and I probably spent way too much time dwelling on the negative. It was my most complaining day when I found out about the black girl. Her name was Hawa. She was living in the United States with a foster family. The muddled story was that when she was nine years old, she was playing outside with her friends while her mother washed clothes in the river. All of a sudden, they were brutally attacked by men who ambushed them with machetes, slashing their tiny bodies into pieces. Hawa pretended to be dead so the men left but she was alone in the outdoors next to her friends and mother for a week before anyone rescued her.
Nobody talked about this at school. All of her fingers were gone on both hands. She was made to fit in, become a student at Mission Valley middle school and on my complainiest day is when she told her classmates in a delicate whisper, "I am so thankful to have a thumb! It lets me hold my paint brush because some day, I am going to be an artist!"
Needless to say, I learned to keep my mouth shut about stupid things that do not matter.

....Loving what is, ends suffering~ Dov Fishman

I heard she's married and has small children of her own. Probably a very good artist too, the kind of artist who knows gratitude.

Gone

2011-08-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

I want to go outside
with incense and dream
a poet's dream.
Summer packed her
bags last week and
left me here alone.
The blinking yellow lights
are gone and darkness
hides the moon.
Smoke swirls and sways
as if to say
"it's all a poet's dream."

Angel Eyes

2011-08-19T20:27:00.000-07:00

"Grace, Mercy and Forgiveness will help a man walk tall. Walk tall!" ~ John Mellencamp

To the human eye, that man doesn't have his s**t together. What is he thinking? Or not thinking? Lady at the office said he parked on a busy road once to help her dog that had been hit by a car when other drivers honked at him. He struggled to pick the wounded dog off the road she said, because of his own hip pain but went ahead and put the dog in the back of his truck and delivered her dog to the house. They had to put down the dog because its back had been broken. He risked his life on that curve and the dog died anyway, what was he thinking asked the human eye.
Why doesn't that man have a job asks the human eye? Nobody makes it in the woods. If only that man would leave his awful woman, his life would change for the better. D*mn! What is he thinking?

And then the angelic eye took over. Look beyond! Pause, breathe, observe. It saw his gentle smile, his sense of humor and depth of compassion. The language of the trees became audible. "We give oxygen" they whispered, "we are the healers." To the angelic eye, the man is in his perfect place. Listen, the awful woman tells her story and the angelic eye sees a wounded animal. Her pain is at a depth that a human ear would want to quiet but the angelic eye is stronger and sees the bigger picture. He is the kindest man she has ever known and the angelic eye understands their soul connection. All is well in the big woods on the outskirts of town.

Feeling the Miracles

2011-08-16T08:49:00.000-07:00

How many what the hecks! are in a day? (sorry English teachers) My dream told me I had five miracles yesterday. What the heck! If they show up as people, then yes, I did. If they show up as hard rain before my road trip this week and I don't have anyone to water my flowers, then yes, miracle. The trip was delayed by one day which means I can still take my pre-paid cooking class at Whole Foods tonight, sweet!

Are miracles supposed to be big like winning the lottery before claiming bankruptcy? Or walking after being in a coma for years? That's probably why we go through the day without noticing the little ones. Last night, my dad was telling the story about the time he and my brother in law were roofing the house on the hottest day of summer one year. This was a Sunday and at the time in our town when the liquor stores were closed. They both commented on how good an ice cold beer would taste right about now. There was a truck driving on his street and something fell out the back. They kept working on the roof and saw two kids walk over to the package and placed it off the road and on the sidewalk. Curiosity crept in so they opened the container and found it full of tall (glass even!) long necked bottles of iced beer. None of the bottles were broken. Have to say, that was probably a big one.

Before writing this story, my mind was firing too quickly. There was pain in my head, sinuses and left temple. Road trip with my parents? Slow drive to China? I eat little meals of greens, nuts and fruits. They like three square meals a day starting with sausage and eggs but I love them. I wouldn't be here without them. How many more years do I have with them as their daughter? Help! I need a sign, I need music! The computer has a different idea. It says, "Jim! He's dead" and then starts to slowly shut down my Dr. Sha video I am watching. What the heck! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eopCkaIYfcg&feature=youtu.be I feel a miracle coming, try not to judge, try not to judge. The computer restarts. There is Dr. Sha again but he has company. Ashana is here too singing! http://www.ashanamusic.com/music.html together. It's so funny. I am in silent gratitude of this miracle. Different sounds speaking the same language. My body resonates with goose bumps, washing my worries. There is no pain in my head, all has been lifted. Flow has been restored.

So what is your miracle for today? I hope you have fun noticing them because they are everywhere.

Child's Summer Prayer

2011-07-14T09:25:00.000-07:00

Dear Angels Who Protect the Child,

My heart is broke in a hundred pieces. I hear sounds of vacuuming and an outside lawn mower with the sight of orange tiger lilies in bloom next to the red roses. The yard is bursting with color and the sky is clear but today has turned bitter with more news of another child's brutal death. Summer has turned an ugly shade of gray.

I ask that you protect the young from harm and that you remind each and every one of us that we are responsible for each other when we see a situation where we can help. Give us courage to intervene when needed so that situations become cohesive and loving once again.

Keep me free of judgments or living in the past of how things could have or should have been. Please hear my words and bless all parents who cry. Help us to always feel your grace and that we stay appreciative of
baseball camps, dripping ice cream cones, flying bugs, snakes and four leaf clovers.

Thank you.

Fourth of July

2011-07-04T22:36:00.000-07:00

Fireworks are illegal in my county where houses have wooden roofs and lawns are hyper manicured. The neighbor is shooting off his secret stash right now and probably worried that his grouchy old neighbor who lives in my house is going to call the police. Little does he know, the grouchy neighbor is fast asleep. It's been a long day, he's tuckered out from watching me juggle phone calls to our grown kids, shop for groceries, cook the dinner, assemble a centerpiece with one dozen roses and white exotic looking flowers, complete with a small flag, but it's the fourth of July! Independence day! Home of the free and another day to celebrate as a family.

At first everyone said they'd rather spend the day swimming at their apartment pool and since it is a "work day" tomorrow, they'd pass on the fireworks show but at the last minute tradition won out and everyone came at 6:30 p.m. Charlie and Aaron like meat, we do not. Hannah is into raw foods only, Paul and Bill are vegetarians who like warm foods, the grand kids are pizza lovers as am I. Their parents are polite and will eat whatever I make. (thanks) Therefore, we had tacos with the hamburger on the side, lots of tacos. Two pizzas, one cheese the other green pepper. Our red white and blue were strawberries, blueberries and yogurt. Charlie brought two different kinds of ice cream for dessert and we forgot to make coffee.

Isn't the fourth of July sentimental? Seven out of eleven of us drove to the fireworks show taking two cars. Parking was fluid considering the amount of people sitting on hills and sidewalks waiting for the annual light show. There were lawn chairs and vans, kids galore, bug spray waifing in the air and flags. Oh my the flags! The June bugs were thick and our spot was lumpy under the blanket but when the first firework shot into the sky, everything turned magic. Silence. Our mouths relaxed and our eyes widened. Some had tears. Silent thanks to the men and women who helped keep our country free. The grand finale had pinks and yellows, purples with greens and blues, red heart centers, white sparkles, wow! "A blinking sky!" said the little boy behind us. Poof, and then it was over. "Pack up, let's go. Tomorrow is another work day, " I heard a dad say. Until next year, Happy Fourth of July!

Dog Park

2011-06-27T22:25:00.000-07:00

Going to the dog park right before dinner on a Monday takes about thirty or so minutes from my house. The walk to the lake where the dogs swim, roughly ten. Hannah, my daughter comes too and we always talk to the passing dogs while their wary owners glare at us without smiles. I always feel like a stalker going to the park especially since we don't bring a dog, but it's fun to watch them run and chase each other in the water. Eventually, the owners warm up to us and engage in small talk, not much, but this place is everyone's quite spot. An inexpensive getaway that melts a day's stress in seconds. Today the sun sat on the water, sending a beam of blinding light to our faces. Maybe we should have waited another hour to come here but just when I snuggled my body into a perfect crevice on the rocks, closing my eyes to the sounds of happy splashing, it happened! The sneak from behind lick in the ear surprise. I was loved twice, by a white German Shepard mix with black tipped ears. The love was contagious, more dogs circled us for kisses. Show offs~ trying to outrun the others to the water and back to us. We were escorted up the steep hill to our car by Trinket, a nine year old Beagle who walked like a really really old man while his owner tried coaxing him away. Weren't we special? Then I saw Trinket from the car's mirror chasing three younger dogs back down the hill. Out of sight out of mind we were! Oh, to be like a dog. It was a good day.

Summer Solstice Blues

2011-06-21T21:52:00.000-07:00

As soon as the publish post button was pushed, I saw the image of my soul sister friend. We all have one or two, the designated through some divine order of things person who keeps us in check. I didn't care! There was no room for pause, emotion was running the show. By the time I got in my car, she was calling my phone! Coincidence? Yes, it was me. No, someone didn't hack my blogger account I told her. Driving, I wondered if the title had been different, could I have gotten away with the simple words that made sense at the time of their typing? Isn't that a part of writing, having a strong title to catch the reader's attention? Like the guy who writes SEX SEX SEX, now that I have your attention....1989 Ford for sale, needs work.

Ok, fine, she was right, the F word probably isn't allowed on blogger, so the post was deleted. It was during lunch today at an outside vegan restaurant named FUD where I noticed the funny sign staring at me, happily blowing in the wind. God the comedian must have orchestrated the whole darn thing! It read, "Mood Swings". Yes, we have them, especially on summer solstices. With that in mind, I would like another chance...

Mind "Messer-Uppers"

yes no yes no
maybe
yes no yes no
silence
dead calm
cold stare
silence
beware

Happy Father's Day!

2011-06-19T21:09:00.000-07:00

There used to be a man in the town where I grew up as a child who was stronger than the other men. He had cuts on his fingers from hard work and liked to drink beer and he smelled real nice after his shower. If everybody told him the truth, returned his car on time and avoided smoking cigarettes, he could be rather pleasant and had a witty sense of humor. I was nineteen when I left the town he lived in and got married. He told me it wouldn't last past six months because of my temper but I think he cried a little after he made a wrong turn to the lake instead of the church. Seventy five years have changed him into an old softie. His fingers are bent from years of hard work, the pinky finger curves sideways now. There are days when I worry if he will be able to fend for himself and continue to care for my mother. The once strong man will always be strong in my heart's memory and I am very proud to call this man "Dad".

Dad taught me much about life. It doesn't matter if you broke the thing, but it does matter that you lied about breaking the thing. If you're going to fish, you better learn to bait your own damn hook. Be yourself, don't wear makeup to cover a pretty face. Avoid people who linger in alleys, they're probably hopped up on dope. Good men will always get out of their cars and walk up to your doorstep, otherwise, good riddance. Nobody likes a bellyacher so get over your problems and get a job. Sunsets, fish that bite, and a good mess of green beans with tomatoes are pure gold. Happy Father's day to my dad and all the men who make a difference in our lives.

Happy Beltane!

2011-05-01T20:58:00.000-07:00

Like ponytails entwined in braid

friendship's circle will last

from in and out the grave.

There is no string that

ends today

the cords were tied

to yesterday.

Sunday Afternoon

2011-03-27T18:49:00.000-07:00

everyone's looking for the answer
of what it is to feel alive
to be a part of something
man i can't decide
was it gross to hide behind
a card board sign
while smoking crack
or gross to look the other way
while hiding inside a fast
moving car?
snow fell today on spring
the daffodils are semi white

Review/ The Angel Therapy Handbook by Doreen Virtue

2011-03-10T21:54:00.000-08:00

   "We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another."
   ~Luciano de Crescenzo~

   The cabin with running water and a flush toilet was the greatest relief after having spent two days camping in a soggy wet tent with four small children. We were exhausted, my husband and I so everyone went right to bed after dinner and baths. The next thing I knew, he was shaking me out of a deep sleep and had carried the kids outside. "What was going on?" I asked. "A woman woke me up," he said. She kept saying over and over, "wake up now! Get the kids." That's when we realized one of them had turned one of the gas oven's knobs on high and blew out the pilot lights. We were slowly getting carbon monoxide poisoning. Who was the woman? An angel? It took until the next day for us to feel ourselves again and I wouldn't be writing this now if it wasn't for the voice that I believe saved my family's life.

Over the years, the angelic helpers have intervened many times. People started noticing and asking questions about how I could help them connect to angels. I have never found a book on the subject until now. "The Angel Therapy Handbook" by Doreen Virtue has been a saving grace! I received the book in the mail from Hay House publications for review and started reading immediately. Since I already believed in angels and have a general understanding of them, I skipped the first parts and jumped right into the end first! It tells how to market yourself as a spiritual speaker. There are tips on writing for magazines, using a microphone, engaging your audience including the hecklers! Addiction cord cutting and lifting the energy of psychic attack is a topic she refers to as well.

The book sat on the kitchen table and soon, other people were thumbing through it. My daughter was surprised to read that she was actually quite normal, just a little "energy sensitive". Did you know the angels have different colors of halos and their names bring a certain quality of healing energy for you? For instance, Archangel Gabriel delivers clear and important messages, helping teachers, writers, actors and artists. He also assists with all aspects of parenting, including adoption, conception and birth. His halo color is copper. I'm starting to get all kinds of ideas now for how I'll use that new metallic copper paint I bought to bring in the helpful energy to my art room. Will keep you posted! Happy reading.

Beautiful Women

2011-03-09T20:21:00.000-08:00

       hand painted silk scarf 2010

   Who is the most beautiful woman you have ever known? Did you judge her beauty by a physical attribute or the way she made you feel? Aunt Carmelita was the most beautiful woman I knew as a child. Her thick waist length hair shimmered in the sun and complimented her naturally white teeth. I was her side kick the summer of my ninth year. We rode up and down mountains in Mexico visiting her girlfriends, swimming at the country club and thumbing through magazines of beautiful dark skinned women while she had her nails and hair painted at the salon. There were nights that I woke to the sound of guitars playing and men singing outside. The moon always left a sliver of light inside my bedroom to help me see below the balcony and yet tiny enough for me to remain invisible. These memories put a lump in my throat, the smell of jasmine still intoxicates my senses, and that is how I fell in love with everything romantic.

   It can be hard to see yourself beautiful if you are the complete opposite of what you think is beautiful. My hair was blond, I had green eyes, and I was painfully quiet, so different than my outspoken aunt who put perfume on her lips and made people laugh with her jokes. What is beauty? Anne Boleyn, who was Henry VIII's mistress and wife was said to be the only woman who captured Henry's attention as his mistress, yet was beheaded later by his orders. She was dark haired and flat chested, some spoke about her having an extra finger and a protruding tooth because she herself was the opposite of the current day which saw beauty as blond with fair skin and a "rounded butt". Women died from bleaching their skin which had lead, they painted veins on their faces and used lye and herbs to whiten the teeth, causing the gums to recede. Red heads were considered marked by evil because it was thought their mothers conceived while menstruating.

   The rules, the rules! Let's change them. As I age, my idea of beauty has shifted. It's the arthritic thumb of my mother who oil paints and cooks fabulous meals at the age of seventy four. The snow white hair of Barbara with the bluest eyes I have ever seen that matches her turquoise dress and years of wisdom. Throw in Elizabeth with her rounded figure and contagious dry wit that would make any man melt. So many women who show us freckles on a nose, fat lips, skinny lips, strong hands that lead, quiet voices that empower and many different skin tones and textures, this story is for you. The secret of real beauty, is having the courage to take off your mask and let the world see your true and authentic you! The one and only, one of a kind. Be real!

   Susana (my mom), Martha, Rebeca, Lydia, Irene, Sandy, Carmelita, Gaby...Te quiero!

Me, Myself and I

2011-03-02T18:17:00.000-08:00

Me, myself and I is a glorious feeling. It doesn't happen over night but when it does, you should thank they, them and others. Life is trial and error, fall, get up and do overs. Eventually, we get it right. It's the perfect throw when you just know the basketball is going in with a "shwish" sound. A dose of healthy self love will erase jealousy and stagnation.

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to be over, it's about learning to dance in the rain."
~author unknown~

Do It Anyway

2011-02-26T21:16:00.000-08:00

I don't know quite how to write this story except to say that yesterday needs to be told. There is a bridge that's made out of glass and links Union Station to Crown Center. I've always wanted to walk across it but never had the courage to try until yesterday and you wouldn't believe how many trucks honked and waved as I stood there marveling about the view. One man walked past me with a walking stick and a backpack. My first inclination was to feel pity towards him because he was blind. A fast walking blind man! He knew exactly where to go, opened the door and proceeded to walk outside on the snow that has ice underneath. It's melting a little so it's lumpy and hard and he kept walking until he came to the bus stop and sat to wait for the next bus. I wonder if I could do that? Live life without sight, going places alone. It made me walk a little taller and laugh about how many things I haven't done because of fear. When I was a kid, there used to be a saying, "ask the blind man, he saw it all."

Cyndi Lauper - True Color

2011-02-20T20:22:00.000-08:00

.

The last to get picked on a team but nobody told them he wasn't into sports. You aren't invisible and never have been.

Spring

2011-02-17T18:38:00.000-08:00

If spring had a name she'd be a Luna, Myra or a Jade
  because nobody messes with a Luna, Myra or a Jade
If spring was an age, she'd be in junior high
  with a crush on every boy
and I would be her best friend.
  We'd stay up late writing in diaries
dreaming about tomorrow's sun
and giggling for flowers that will be budding soon.

Valentine Surprise

2011-02-14T21:08:00.000-08:00

What the heck happened to me? I followed the advice of a smart lady who knew I had a large family and wanted a happy marriage. She said, "get yourself a good girlfriend!" Six of them meet me once a month for lunch. We've known each other since junior high days, some from second grade. Yesterday was that day, a Sunday, the day I wish Romeo would get off the sports couch and take an outing with me. I know I was mad when I left the house, but these friends gave me amnesia and helped erase the world. When I stopped at Whole Foods to get a carrot drink after our carbo load lunch, it struck me odd that so many people were carrying roses. Was there a sale?
Surprise surprise there were twelve red roses and my usual big red heart full of chocolates in the house. I completely forgot about Valentine's day! It was a day early for me because my Romeo is out of town today. He looked as confused as I was, probably wondering where I had put my grouchiness.

Thank you girlfriends! You are the best. Happy Valentines Day to all.

Little Grandmother's Message for 2011

2011-02-11T20:22:00.000-08:00

Listen To Your Teacher

2011-01-31T20:01:00.000-08:00

To paint a rose correctly, is tricky, almost impossible but if you remember the center is darker than the outside layers, it can be done. Mine will not look like yours and yours probably won't look like mine, but it is still a rose. I remember this from Alberta Fensky. Her class was filled with roughly twelve women on an evening in November of 1992. Alberta talked out of the side of her mouth and one of her eyes squinted almost shut when she talked. I never saw her with a cigarette but maybe she kept them in the car next to the stuffed fake man she kept in the front seat so that nobody would bother her on her way home.

She didn't like students coming late to class. I painted flowers at my house with whatever brushes I had on hand and even used Q-tips. Alberta had a list of brushes with numbers, so precise, I was going to learn much! Thirty or so minutes into the class, Barbara, another student who had shown her work in galleries raised her hand and before Alberta could call on her said, "this is not the way to paint a rose! You should start with a flat brush." That started a small chain reaction of negative comments from the other students. Without blinking an eye, Alberta calmly wobbled to the front of the room, slammed a book on the table and said, "this is the Fensky way and I am your teacher, Alberta Fensky! Thank you for taking my class."

I still don't know how to paint a rose like hers, but I know how to respect other people's positions. There are times to be a student and times to be the teacher.

President's Prayer

2011-01-25T21:58:00.000-08:00

Thank you God that I am not the President of anything larger than myself.
My pillow is soft, the bed warm. Sleep will come easily, again.
Thank you God for those who are braver than me to be President.
Bless and keep them safe from harmful words that rob their sleep.
Amen.

Quilting Memories For A Snowy Day

2011-01-20T20:31:00.000-08:00

Old Lady Clanahan 1984 clay 3 inches tall

   (I sold this piece to a woman in San Francisco, Ca for $45 at a time when I needed the money)
   Old lady McClanahan lived to the left of my parents' house in a shack.( That is what my brother and I thought) The house was layered with grey roof shingles, front, sides, back and roof. A puff of smoke shot straight up from the middle with a little front porch where she would sit in the hot summers, a pan of ice and a white wash cloth to cool her face and arms. I never knew anyone as fat as old lady McClanahan. Her skin was pinkish and her underarms shook like jello when she'd yell to my baby sister, "hey Rosie gal! come to old Clanahan!"clapping her hands together. She definitely had her favorites and I was not one of them. Once, I was invited inside her house that smelled like perfumy face powder, and a potpourri of questionable scents. There wasn't a toilet to use other than the outhouse in the backyard or a flowered pan that she kept under the bed. Her living room was cramped and hotter than anything I had experienced with an air that was humid and hard to breathe.

  The coke she offered me sat untouched next to her shoe boxes. One by one, she opened the lids, displaying hundreds of small bits of fabric from her dead husband's clothes. I was supposed to put the thread through a needle and she would watch me sew two pieces of fabric squares together. When she had enough, the fabric would be sandwiched between layers of old towels and more fabric on the back. It seemed like the biggest waste of time and the thought of sleeping with a dead man's clothes creeped me out enough to stay away from her. When you're nine, time flies and details are lost so I don't remember what happened to old lady McClanahan. She called me an old maid when I came home from high school and that was probably the last time I ever spoke to her.

  Eventually, my interest in quilting consumed my art. It was fun sewing memories together from old pieces of clothing. Last night it snowed eight inches and I turned to my quilts for comfort. All are hand stitched, some took twenty years to become finished. My house is cozy warm, an apple pie sits on the counter mingling scents with the nag champa incense that burns in my studio space. Before I tackle another project, I need to call my sons. Geesh, if they'd only get married, I wouldn't worry so much! I'm sounding more and more like an old lady.
   "I don't like that man much, guess I'd better get to know him." ~Abraham Lincoln


http://www.firehousequilts.org/

Wolf Moon 2011

2011-01-19T21:10:00.000-08:00

"The world closing in

did you ever think

that we could be so close, like brothers.

The future's in the air

I can feel it everywhere

Blowing with the wind of change.

~Scorpions. Wind of Change

   The snow fell soft and fast today, covering every thing it touched. It's a Wolf moon according to Native American folklore and the first full moon of 2011. She hides tonight behind a blanket of lavender sky and I don't blame her, it's cold out! There are no wolves here howling for warmth, I hope my stray cats are comfortable under the golf green and that there will be enough fresh vegetables in the fridge to keep me home tomorrow. Nothing is making a sound outside, nothing at all. What a contrast to the chatter that went on in the world today.

  Can you feel the wind of change that is here? People are waxing and waning, losing jobs, moving, ending friendships. Our world has left the year of the Tiger and is now entering the year of the Rabbit. People are also waking up to themselves. Feeling the need to live a more authentic and passionate life. Little miracles sprouting out of discomfort. One of my soul sisters told me today that there are four unusual dates this year.

   1/1/11...1/11/11...11/1/11...and 11/11/11...take the last two digits of the year you were born, plus the
age you will be this year and it will equal 111. Pretty cool. Year of the Rabbit. The Universe is whispering that there are no accidents. We are meant to Be, uniquely us. Do the math, we are all ONE!

The Native American Ten Commandments

2011-01-14T21:28:00.000-08:00

Goodbye Old Year

2011-01-03T22:51:00.000-08:00

   A.D. 1700 - 1900

   A presence strange at once and known
   Walked with me as my guide.
   The skirts of some forgotten life
   Trailed noiseless at my side.

   Was it a dim-remembered dream
   Or glimpse through eons old?
   The secret which the mountain kept.
   The river never told.
   J.G. Whittier
   (A Mystery)

   Good bye old year! You were an ok friend. Sadly, I think I took you for granted. Didn't notice how fast you would come and go. Pieces of you feel like a past life memory and other parts of you still cling like a broken record. Thanks for the learning and thanks for the fun but I am looking forward to the new one! 2011, wow!

Starfish

2010-12-08T20:48:00.000-08:00

This picture is a repost but I love its simplicity. The candles were lit on the outside deck and salt was accidentally spilled on the table. It had been a fun party and we were goofy tired so that's when the little starfish came into the picture. "Dance with me! My foot is off but I can still salsa!" Point and click, now our moment is captured and framed in the kitchen. Do you remember your first camera? They don't make mine anymore, it had a cubed flash that you had to throw away after four pictures. Now I have one that is too smart for me to figure out.

Remembering Christmas Past

2010-12-07T22:02:00.000-08:00

Somewhere between accidentally holding hands with the wrong dad in a crowded shopping center and the long drive home in the back seat on a cold December afternoon, is when she decided to become a grown up. She would never suck her thumb again, would never sit on Santa Claus' lap and definitely never call him "Daddy". Tears fell on her new Alvin and The Chipmunks Christmas album that she had saved her allowance to buy. The crowded car full of siblings didn't notice her pain while her mom shouted, "Oh, you're terrible Charles!" Yes he was, all the while hearing his words, "I'm not standing in that line another minute! You're too big to believe in Santa Claus! There's no such a thing anyway!" echoing in her head.
Leaving her inward child was easy for many years. She played the Christmas album for the amusement of her brother and sisters, never acting excited. As luck would have things, time turned her into a mother and that is when the little girl came back. She played Christmas carols on her stereo and waited patiently in long lines with her children to take a peek at Santa. Luck, being the good friend that it is, also turned her into a grandma. The kind of grandma who calls her dad, "Daddy".

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxzwWIxiv6A

That Was Fun

2010-12-02T20:28:00.000-08:00

It's a great feeling to find an old picture or even a slightly old one! They have a way of speaking. A way of nudging us that life is good.

"When words become unclear, I shall focus on photographs. When images become inadequate, I shall be content with silence." ~ Ansel Adams~

Gossip and The Permanent Record

2010-12-01T12:54:00.000-08:00

"If you reveal your secrets to the wind, you should not blame the wind for revealing them to the trees."

~Kahil Gibran~

Do you know where the teachers hide the permanent record book? Hopefully, things have changed, but when I was little, it was a big threat to keep us in line and I never saw them write in it when we were good. I was about to give up this myth until Aaron was starting his first grade year. The new teacher took me aside and said how happy she was to have my son. Aaron? Tell it how it is Pooky, don't mess with me Aaron? Yes, and then she opened a ledger with the names of all the children. Next to his name was a little red heart that his kindergarten teacher drew. I had the same experience year after year with him. That little red heart followed him through high school like a lucky charm!

   I've been thinking about this "Force". The best way to notice it is through facebook. The same people talk about how hard their lives are only to keep experiencing hardships. The same people talk about fun things, only to tell us later about their new jobs or vacations. It's all energy and wants to please so it gives what it receives. There is hope but it is hard! I've been trying for two weeks and every day I write, "day one." For twenty one days in a row, you can't complain, talk bad about others even if it feels right. That means no gossip. If you mess up, apologize and then start over. Someone told me it will physically change your insides and you will automatically refrain from negative speaking.
   "We dance round in a ring and suppose, while the Secret sits in the middle and knows." ~Robert Frost
   There is a permanent record book called the Akashic Records. It contains the vibrational records of each individual soul and its journey. "Akasha" a Sanskrit word meaning "primary substance", that which all things are formed. The Record is known in every spiritual tradition. In Judeo-Christian tradition, it is "The Book of Life" and "The Book of God's Remembrance". There are ways to access the information for healing but it will be easier to read this book if we do an inner cleanse first.

   1. no fear
   2. no guilt
   3. no judgement

Linda Howe   Director of the Akashic Studies http://www.akashicstudies.com

Tuesday Musings

2010-11-30T21:21:00.000-08:00

The Kansas City Chiefs football team smoked them last Sunday! Rich Gannon says, "Oww fence" when it should clearly be "Aw fence". Some people did the laundry during the game and "wershed" the dishes. Or is it waashed? O key dokee, Oh kee doakee, or o kee doohkie? spell check says none of the typed.

My Day of Family Gratitude/Thanksgiving

2010-11-28T20:01:00.000-08:00

Twenty one people came to our house for Thanksgiving. I cooked a nineteen pound turkey, fifteen pounds of potatoes, two dozen deviled eggs, homemade cranberry sauce with oranges, seven pots of coffee and roasted beets with garlic and carrots. Aunt Monica brought five pies, three apple and two pumpkin. We had zucchini muffins, ham, rolls, green bean casserole, corn relish and dressing. Aaron made mac and cheese from scratch that cost him $40 to make, everyone brought something! I managed to have time to clean the house and iron three tablecloths. Over the years, the women in my family have become quite good at the game of family parties, many are seasoned cooks and the men know each other well enough to relax.
This year, I wanted to pray. Pray with connection, not repetition. My children were forewarned about my request. As everyone crowded into the small living room, I stood and read the Shaman's prayer for family unity.
   Help us to honor the sacred gift of family, in our thoughts and in our behavior. Help us to see their
   inner light and help us to see them in the Light of Love and Forgiveness and Appreciation, as you see
   us. Help us to treat them with respect and kindness. Thank you for their touch in our lives, the gifts of
   their teachings, and at times, their testings. Bless them, wherever they may be, in body or in Spirit, with
   the awareness that they are loved. Bless them with your protection and with whatever they need to
   fulfill their greatest purpose. And finally, Great Mystery, help us all to grow in our awareness to the
   place of knowing that on the deepest level of our being, we are all joined together in your heart of
   infinite Love.   ~Ho! May it be so~

The words came out of my mouth, all eyes were on me while I stood in the circle. Thank you for their testings was the sentence that connected my heart energy to theirs. In a blur, the memories flooded. I choked on the prayer. In body or in Spirit was the sentence that brought the aura of ancestors. How did everyone fit in this room? It was hard, that little prayer, I was so happy when I finished! And just like a new recipe, my mother had to comment, "hum, I noticed you choked three times on the prayer." So what, I burned my first brisket at Easter. We're vegetarians mom! (mostly) This prayer is going to be said daily until it rolls off my lips. Next year, I'll probably choke again but with practice, I'll be a seasoned veteran. Happy Thanksgiving!

Belgium Chocolates

2010-11-20T21:24:00.000-08:00

The gold box was wrapped in red paper with brown swirly designs and a satin ribbon with "Leonidas" written in gold. It traveled from Belgium to Kansas, a gift to me from Natalie and Ryan. I waited until after the party to open it. Belgium chocolates, made with 100% pure cocoa butter since 1913. The smell inside is to die for, purely intoxicating. I ate one. Then two. Now I'm up to three and a half. Is it wrong to eat an entire box? Maybe, so I'll settle for the smell. Each little bite was pure delight, the creamy centers melting in my mouth. Ryan said I would have to toss the box if I didn't eat them within seven days because they were made fresh. Is he crazy? They'll probably last three days!

Sacred Soup

2010-11-07T20:54:00.000-08:00

The backyard garden is where I used to play but now it's home to tomatoes, okra, beets, onions, peppers, lots of peppers and probably corn or green beans. The soil oozes with vintage shards of pottery and sun antiqued glass that has turned purple or green that I collect after the rain. I love this place! It's the land that my dad has tended for years. Sometimes the inheritance of peppers is more than I can handle but the thought of losing the farmer who hand picked them makes me want to cook.

Peppers are washed, seeded and chopped along with one onion. Stir fry in a cast iron skillet until it looks good. Cooking with memories on your mind will yield no recipe, things must be measured by feel. Set peppers aside, giving them two big sniffs to absorb into your mood. Peel and chop three sweet potatoes and boil until soft in chicken broth but remember to hide the box from the vegetarians. (inserted smiley face)

Blend the peppers, chicken broth and sweet potatoes together. Serve warm, preferably alone, eat slowly.

"It is good to be alone in a garden at dawn or dark so that all its shy presences may haunt you and possess you in a reverie of suspended thought." ~James Douglas-Down Shoe Lane~

Did You Vote?

2010-11-03T19:34:00.000-07:00

Asking me if I voted Republican or Democrat last night feels the same as when my mother would ask in front of everyone at the end of the day, "so, Dee Dee, did you have a BM today?" None of your business. It is your business that we all work together, no blame, no over spending and equality. There has been heartache with job loss in my family but so far so good. Not the end of the world, yet. Not even close! It feels good to give what I can give, live an authentic life and not worry all the time. Halloween is over, I ate the rest of the Heath candy bars and for the first time, I joined the other party but I'm keeping it a secret! My stomach hurts, but it's the sugar, really.

"God supplies every man his need, but he does not supply the greed." ~Gandhi~

Music Inside

2010-10-26T20:33:00.000-07:00

In my dream last night, my guitar was making pretty music but the strings were made out of wire and all but two were broken and curled. The invisible man who usually talks but is never seen was telling me how to play correctly but all I could think about were the broken wires and how strange the dream was because I don't even play a guitar! Even weirder, I woke up to the sound of two very loud cords in my room and intuitively thought those were the ones my body needs to hear. While drinking coffee, my daughter said how she had heard beautiful music and a guitar, causing me to almost die on the spot from choking on my coffee.

Yes, this day was spent on reflection of that dream but it just now made sense after I double spaced. Before going to bed, my sister Rose called talking a hundred miles a minute. Rose, the artist who married the Jew, moved to Chicago and now has to wait tables so that her kids can eat like kings. (her words) Rose, the red headed sister of mine who was an actress and always wanted to meet David Letterman. She laughs louder than most, can carry seven folded bath towels on top of her head, dancing and singing jazz. My stomach hurts when we're together from laughing.

Before going to bed last night, I did feel angry because she didn't hear me or let me finish my sentence. If dreams are there to remind us of the importance of hearing the music and ignoring the broken pieces, I'm glad to have them! Thanks for letting me get this out. I hope you are the cord that plays music.

Fall Equinox

2010-10-22T21:36:00.000-07:00

When air has turned the day
to equal parts of light
and equal parts of night
the muse arrives on
yearly cue, dressed in
garments of orange and reds
dancing on black twigs
She whispers names
of every love alive or dead
"remember me"
awakening lovers
from their beds
leaving nothing
but a scent of smoke.

The High School Reunion (35 years)

2010-10-18T21:40:00.000-07:00

Getting old sucks and so does reliving the what if's. Waiting until the last minute to buy something new to wear and then changing into something old is just plain nerves not to mention trying to hide missed workouts! The past is a scary thing to face especially with a different personality and life that you were in that past. I wasn't going to go to my reunion but Jon Bon Jovi was singing on the radio, "who says you can't go home?" So I called my closest girlfriends, reminded them of favors I had done and threatened retaliation if they didn't go too.

Jane drove from Texas, Debbie bought a new shirt, Jeanne hosted a pre-party and I was an hour late! It's easy to blame the current life but my son Charlie, had bought a new car and wanted to show off for me. Then we got lost because my old hometown is growing too fast.

It wasn't so bad, in fact it was an evening full of laughs and something I would do over again. So, before you throw away your high school invitation, think about it. Think about the people who still live in your past, the ones who scared the crap out of you, the ones you loved, especially the what if's because that's what makes you better!

"Our job is to look into the world for reasons to believe in ourselves. Each time we find one, it replaces the limitations that WE may have held ourselves to in the past. It's when we abandon ourselves to that new possibility that we shatter the old paradigm of false limits and find the spontaneous healing of our beliefs."

~Gregg Braden~

Famous People

2010-10-07T20:15:00.000-07:00

You won't see many famous people where I live. There was the time I saw football player Marcus Allen at the empty Chinese restaurant during an emotional boyfriend breakup that my daughter was going through. He looked puzzled because I didn't react to his presence, I remember. I sat with Rosie Greer, another football legend had my picture taken with him but when I brought it home for my young son, he could have cared less, never heard of the guy. Willis Reed, basketball, shook my husband's hand and because he was so excited to meet him, Willis thought we were friends once. There was the time I fell in the mud and got sprayed with sprinklers to pick up an autographed picture of golfer, Tom Watson only to see that our signatures were identical! Well, who would believe that? I was so close to Rod Stewart once, I could have touched his nose. We looked each other in the eyes and he said, "hello" in an English sounding accent.

This isn't to brag, just to let you know, there aren't many famous people where I live that are noticeable anyway. So you can imagine my feelings when I saw an old classmate today from my childhood town on a soap opera! Connie Ventress, playing the maid on All My Children. I probably went to every school play she was in back in the day. Brave old Connie who left our little town to be a movie star!

Famous people, the untouchables. Have you ever wanted to be one? Not me, but I do want my dreams to come true and I do want people to know my name, sometimes, but not when I'm having lattes with my friends. Congratulations Connie! We love you in Olathe!

Finding Your "Oomph"

2010-10-03T21:51:00.000-07:00

Your oomph is a terrible thing to lose. It's the thing that keeps you up late at night and gets you going first thing in the morning. Many great works of art were made thanks to "oomph", the light bulb was created by oomph energy. Most people can recognize who has it and who doesn't but nobody can find it for you. I lost mine for four months this year. The urge to write poetry, blog or cook didn't exist and was replaced by dramas, other people's. Have you had those kinds of summers? Nobody gets along, so and so is out of work, this friend is divorcing, that one drinks too much and they don't do things "our" way. Life gets heavy.

Life is also a huge school room full of lessons to be learned. I just passed a grade! I found my oopmh! It arrived on a crisp October morning near the fountains that flowed with pink water. A stranger gave it to me. He had the bluest eye with sores on his lips and a weight of blankets and clothes on his back. He cried when I hugged him and said he fought in Vietnam for me. "Where do I donate?" he asked. "No, the hugs are free, today is Global Free Hug Day!" Those eyes still linger in my mind. He could have been my brother, how ironic, intelligent, compassionate and napping on the hill without a roof.

Is irony our friend? The little boy beaming with happiness on his crowded apartment balcony full of toys. No backyard or swing set, but he lives in a paradise of his own mind! How ironic. What does irony teach? When it presents itself, we might ask ourselves what are we judging? If your "oomph" is missing, who or what have you judged or tried to fix your way? I learned at a weekend retreat to ask myself when faced with difficult people, "What would Love do?" Remember that God has their awakening handled, our job is to love without judgement.

How ironic. Me, standing on a crowded street corner in Kansas City, Missouri holding a honk if you hug sign and giving away hugs to strangers. Yes, me, the grown up little girl who's mother was told she wouldn't make it in society due to her shyness. Thank goodness I wasn't made aware of that teacher's judgement until I was somewhat over my shyness! Makes me want to write a poem and bake a loaf of banana nut bread at 11:56 p.m....life is creative again!

"Remember it's a grand illusion and deep inside, we're all the same."
`Styx

Keith Michael Johnson's BubbleArtist.com Soap Bubble Shows!

2010-05-30T21:25:00.000-07:00

Keith Michael Johnson's BubbleArtist.com Soap Bubble Shows!

2010-05-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

Just for today, I wish everyone was loved.
Just for today, I will not complain.
Just for today, I am peace.
Just for today, I forgive.
So that tomorrow, today will become a habit.

Happy Mother's Day!

2010-05-09T19:00:00.000-07:00

Jim lives across the street. He's married to Pam. They have one grown son and a small dog that doesn't shed. The color of their house is the color I wish my house was painted. This morning, Jim walked to his car wearing a daring red shirt, freshly ironed no doubt. I watched him get a big pink package and carry it into the house. How sweet, "Mother's day", I thought to myself. Inside my house was the father of my children who greeted me with a lovely, "woah am I sweaty! It looks cold outside," and that is why I absolutely hate holidays that require a gift.
In Catholic school, after our Christmas holiday was over, I remember the class having to take turns and tell the rest of us what we got for Christmas. There were the braggers, the overly indulged and then there was my friend Nancy. She had eighteen in her family and she would say, "I got a bracelet." That was it. She wouldn't look anyone in the eye and it left me sick for days after. Gift giving holidays, bahumbug!
Today, I'm sure many moms had breakfast in bed. Some opened boxes with jewelry, others were showered with spring flowers and still some cried because their children didn't call. It isn't really about the gift but more about wanting to know if we matter. Did we make you happy? Are you a better person because of us? (can be taken both ways!) and if we are better because the mother wasn't so good, thank them for giving you the chance to improve the next generation. When people are acknowledged, there is a peace that comes into the heart. Everyone makes mistakes, everyone. It has been said that when a child is born, so is its mother. She is forever changed. Thank all of the women in your life, they put the yin into your yang!

(thank you Paul for having breakfast with me, being the first to call. thank you Hannah for giving the sweetest hug. thank you Charlie and Aaron for making me laugh and coming over to visit fifteen minutes after I texted you to do so. thank you son-in-law Matt who wrote it in words and lastly, thank you married daughter Julie. Your hug and knowing eyes say we are comrades!

Happy Mother's Day to all moms and women who nurture others.

Earth Medicine (Em) Native American Flute

2010-04-25T20:27:00.000-07:00

2010-04-24T20:22:00.000-07:00

lalalalala, testing testing. O is sticking on the keyboard, words are stuck inside my head. Today was Dylan's seventh birthday party and everyone was there. I am tired and it is late and when did I become the tin man? I squeek with stiffness but know how letters on this keyboard will wake my sluggish spirit.jakl;dsjfajdfjdf testing, testing

"The Shift" by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

2010-03-03T14:40:00.000-08:00

shift ~ to change the place, position or direction: to assume responsibility: dodge: change in judgement or attitude: transfer: to go through a change: verb and noun
                                                                      Webster's Dictionary

    I was a newlywed when I first saw Dr. Dyer on the Johnny Carson show talking about his erroneous zones, clueless to what he was saying so I tuned him out but thought he was funny and had a great laugh. Years later he was someone I spoke of frequently to anyone who would listen. Small change from the first time, but still a change. Dr. Dyer had a series of self help tapes I just knew hard headed Charlie could use and they were manifested for me at a garage sale for a dollar. A dollar! Molding Charlie was a little harder than I expected. The day I quit trying was around the time he started sending me emails about the stuff I tried teaching him and I had to wonder what he was thinking all the years I was talking.

    My book "The Shift" by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer (http://www.hayhouse.com/details.php?id=4672&utm_id=3313) came in the mail last month. It's a thin book with 112 pages so I assumed it would be a fast read. I carried it in my purse and at first, read from whatever page I opened the book. Page 41: The truth is that we don't have to do a thing in order to validate ourselves as worthy and valuable. Had we done nothing except be godlike, we'd fulfill our own dharma. Ironically, we would most likely have created a larger and more impressive resume. I have nothing to prove, it said, so I took a day off from reading. I tossed and turned at night worrying about my review and as I read The Shift, it helped explain the ego's need to control. Let go and let God it said. I have lived much of my life in this way when it came to raising children, being a wife and daughter, but this is my first writer's ego moment. Page 44 was a sigh of relief! "I'm not my work. I'm not my accomplishments. I live, breathe and work from my authentic self. I do not do writing, I am writing and writing is me."

   This is a book you will enjoy reading over and over, I will use its pages like flash cards for a more fulfilled life. Ambition that has meaning and purpose coming from a place of oneness sure feels better than making it to the finish line alone. Charlie might like reading this after he finds it in his Easter basket, but I have a feeling he's putting one in my basket as well!

                  http://www.hayhouse.com/details.php?id=4672&utm_id=3313

                  http://www.search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Shift/Wayne-W-Dyer/e/97

Blogging for Hayhouse

2010-03-02T20:57:00.000-08:00

Don't tell my dad but his prediction came true. When I was in the fourth grade, I absolutely hated book reports! Hated them. It seemed like such a waste of time to read a book and then have to tell about it on a Sunday night when I had wasted the entire day playing. Books were my escape and I loved them, I just didn't want to write about them. Dad said maybe it was life getting me prepared to write book reports when I was big. "Nobody has that kind of a job!" I would argue. That was a long time ago and much has changed. I can type letters on a keyboard and within seconds it's delivered to my cousin in Mexico...from my phone! I remember my grandparents calling us long distance on the phone and the bill would be thirty dollars for ten minutes, never guessing years later we would be emailing all over the world for...free!
Blogging and facebook are words that weren't said in the late sixties so how was I to know years later they're in my vocabulary. Especially that I would actually be doing those things, which leads me to my father's prediction. I was accepted by Hay House Publishing to be one of their book review bloggers. My first book will be "The Shift" by Dr. Wayne W. Dyer and I can't tell you how delighted I am to write book reports! The bloggers won't get paid with cash but we get a free book and who can beat that?

When I tried to tell dad that I would be blogging for Hayhouse, he thought I was jogging to Henhouse. Nevermind, he wouldn't believe me anyway and he doesn't have a computer.
http://www.hayhouse.com/details.php?id=4672&utm_id=3313

"In la Kesh, Ala Ken" / I am You and You are Me

2010-03-01T21:46:00.000-08:00

"All things share the same breath~the beast, the tree,
the man, the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports."
                ~Chief Seattle~
Recently I was told that world war three was going to be with Mother Nature by a modern Mayan priestess. Before the earthquake in Haiti, many of my family members and friends, myself included felt agitated and nervous. Some woke during the night to pray and others cried for no reason, then we saw the devastation of a cruelty nobody could defend against. Musicians sang and raised money, the whole world ached. I especially remember the musicians from Haiti who sang and danced on the telethon in their native way. I felt happy, we all danced in the living room. Were we being disrespectful? Weren't Haitan women singing in the streets as their form of prayer?
   There is a sacred ritual called a Hunbleceya or Vision Quest from the Blackfeet and Lakota native Americans to find inner peace when they are faced with forks in the road. This quest involves walking to a sacred mountain or a secluded outdoor space for 1-4 days without food or water.They will pray to the Creator for guidance. Volunteers are asked to eat and drink for that person. This involves being present when eating and drinking with the intent of nourishing the Vision Quester. Coincidentally, or not, I received an email from a woman who had been a volunteer. She said many times when a person comes down from the mountain, they will ask, "Who was eating strawberries? They were delicious, thankyou!"
What a great idea! Look at the pictures of these people, look at Chile, at Japan, wherever there is pain and you feel helpless.Cry first, then enjoy your food. Enjoy your warm home, your families. Be gratitude. Become a state of being, whether it's Peace, Joy or Courage, but leave negative emotions behind. Do it for them, do it for you.
               "The soul would have no rainbow if the eye had no tears."
  http://www.savethechildren.org/

Correction! Par Three!

2010-02-20T11:54:00.000-08:00

I LOVE golf! It gets the men out of my house for six hours every Saturday during spring, summer and fall which allows me time alone to do art. So, when I write "par nine" they're going to laugh. They're going to tell me I don't know the "lingo". With my previous post about Tiger Woods, I was corrected. A par three course is the easy one many women play. My boys play 36 holes, so I actually thought a par nine was the easy way. My apologies to the golfers.

Tiger's Big Bogey

2010-02-19T21:11:00.000-08:00

"Shhh shhh shhh!" Tiger's going to talk. Did you see his fake crying? How about his sincerity? Well if you ask me, he had it coming and is done with golf. These are some of the comments I overheard today after Tiger Woods officially apologized to the media for having extramarital affairs. Everyone is hammering him. Is it true the bigger the sin, the bigger the stone? If we put enough secrets into a box, won't the box eventually bulge and burst open from the pressure? I really don't know why everyone is surprised that something had to give. Poor Tiger, yes, I say poor because it's obvious his ego was out of control. Poor Mrs. Woods and all the other women who were involved. The good news is that they made a mistake! Matthew and Terces Engelhart, owners of Cafe Gratitude in San Francisco (http://www.cafegratitude.com/) say that when a waiter drops a plate full of dishes, they are to shout out, "I made a mistake!" then the crew is to clap and cheer for the acknowledgement of the accident. They also teach not to leave people "fractured" and broke. We need to ask ourselves the simple question, "how can I provide more love from this situation?" for change to occur.
When we become "unplugged" from Truth and wired into ego, it's a Duck Hook into the lake. We get labeled as Hackers and before we know it, our tee times are cancelled with friends. Personally, I'm going to light a candle for Tiger and clap my hands for him admitting his mistake. This life isn't always an easy nine par, sometimes there are sand traps and shanks, but if we address the ball and assume our stance, we often get a hole in one! Thank God we all get a mulligan! (do-over)

Becoming Juliet/Happy Valentine's Day

2010-02-14T19:24:00.000-08:00

               " My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
                 Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
                 Nor to be seen. My crown is called content:
                 A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy."
                                                 ~William Shakespeare~

     The famed Erma Bombeck once wrote about how her husband didn't take her bowling, didn't eat fancy foods, didn't do this or that and I laughed and rooted with her until she ended the column with how he went to work every day, how he mowed the huge yard, how he loved his children and that was the beginning of my transformation. Moral of the story for me was to stop complaining. Stop sharing problems with my friends and love my life. We have been exchanging Valentine's for thirty three years now. When it comes to love, you absolutely must put on the rose colored glasses! Happy Valentine's Day!

In Memory of Spencer Meyer

2010-02-01T21:02:00.000-08:00

He was the first dance, the first heart break and the reason my daughter started wearing make-up. He was her everything but he was in love with Rachel. I used to watch him walk home from school, blond and scrawny, wondering what she saw in him, but mostly wondered what he didn't see in my daughter.Love truly is in the eye of the beholder so I listened patiently to her heart woes in between dinner and homework. Just like a tornado that comes and goes, he took his charisma to another school and another state.
Tonight I found his picture in the newspaper and we are mourning the sudden passing of his short life.
The typed words do not explain his death. I didn't recognize his twenty one year old face, only the twinkle in his smile and I clearly see what my daughter saw in him. Many tears were cried for you Spencer Meyer and many lessons learned, thankyou. Happy Heaven!

Ice Queen

2010-01-08T21:44:00.000-08:00

The weather in Overland Park, Kansas made the front page news in Florida. It's cold, we're grouchy and just as soon as the driveway gets shoveled, another snow comes during the night. The farmer's almanac predicted a bad winter and the snow drifts prove it right. Temperatures are in the teens with high winds that slice through your clothes and the sun doesn't even want to come out. My street entrance has so much ice packed on top of each layer from the snow plows that it feels like I'm driving over a curb. I'm constantly mopping the floor from wet boots, still worried about my son's concussion from his fall. Why don't I move? Winter is a dear old friend. She shortens my days, forcing my family inside. We're eating homemade soups, breads and pastas together. We laugh, stay up later, drink hot teas, finish projects.

Her breath is quiet late at night. There is magic in her mood, giving me time to reflect. Time to pause, time to admire her long icy fingers and smoothe white skin that sparkles under the moon. Trees crack in the distance from the weight of her cold touch and I'm empathetic to her pain. She is pregnant with life, her labor reminds me of the beautiful spring that she will soon birth. Three more months! Brrrr cold.

It's Over!

2010-01-01T22:51:00.000-08:00

Mars Rx in Leo at the Solstice, Mercury Rx in Leo at the Solstice, Mercury Rx in Capricorn day after Christmas, Lunar Eclipse at nine Cancer on New Year's Eve, mid January solar eclipse in Capricorn, Mercury going direct and Saturn turning Rx in early Libra and Pluto playing a role in everything!

"Oh Lords of Opposition, why do you always visit this time of year?"
~Miriam~
People are tough. We survive, we fight, we cry and get better. December 2009 had its share of challenges. It came and left with two full moons and if that wasn't enough, Mars and Mercury both went Retrograde right after each other, all in unison with holiday shopping, budget cuts and out of town company. Parump!
ret - ro - grade adj.
(moving or tending backward, opposite to the usual order, inverted)
For me, retrograde is the time when Mother Earth reminds us to go inside ourselves and pull out what no longer serves our highest good. She nudges with the help of planetary friends and what we consider chaos is God's perfect planned mistake. Wishing everyone a very glorious happy NEW YEAR!

2009-12-20T21:06:00.000-08:00

I wish the radio stations wouldn't play Christmas carols on the air the day after Halloween. I wish it really was the thought that matters and I would like peace on earth.

A For Real Santa

2009-12-17T22:31:00.000-08:00

This is the for real Santa! His eyes are sky blue, pink cheeks, real beard. Thankyou to all the fake Santas who shopped and donated for my family's favorite local charity. You are amazing! Our hearts were warmed by the many contributions of food, toys and clothes. Thankyou.

"and the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow, stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so?
It came without ribbons. It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags. And he puzzled
and puzzled 'till his puzzler was sore. Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before. What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from the store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more."
~Dr. Suess~

Christmas Ornaments

2009-12-13T23:04:00.000-08:00

The house is deliciously quiet tonight and the Christmas tree is the living room's only light source. For the past thirty one years, it has been my job to unpack, decorate, dismantle and repack this fake fir tree. I grumble every year, swear never to do it again and then the ornaments start to talk. Ten percent were store bought from friends but all the rest are hand made. The first to arrive were the rocking horses, drums, trains and Santas all made out of flour and salt. Jeanne says none of hers have survived. We made them together the first year both of us were married. There are felt animals and red hearts. I didn't have pretty ribbon so I used white yarn as loops. My dad tried to eat the cinnamon and applesauce stars one year while they dried on the kitchen table, luckily without breaking a tooth!

Money was tight so Christmas ornament making was what we did. Nobody could throw away the juice can lids, the summer of 1986. I punched designs into the tin with a nail and a hammer on a wooden board while the kids splashed in the backyard wading pool. By September, I had enough rolls of ribbon to start hot gluing the outside border. When December came along, there were ninety six ornaments waiting in a box for all the children in my children's classes to receive as a gift.

This old house is getting sleepy and the tin ornament shines brightly. Was it two years ago I ran into a handsome and very tall man who checked me out at the hardware store? He was thrilled to tell me that he still had his ornament I made for him. "Daniel?!" I said. How time flies and kids grow up so quickly. They were good years, happy years, sad years, hard years, but my years. I like the over stuffed tree with dad's garden statice in purples, pinks and white with a touch of dried sage from my own garden. Who cares that the panty hose mice have glass beaded eyes that are too big. It isn't Hallmark, it's Jorgensen.

Music Man

2009-11-22T21:59:00.000-08:00

                                                 he's married to the notes
                                                 inside his head
                                                 with glassy eyes
                                                 that hold a distant stare.
                                                 his ears are cradled
                                                 by her touch,
                                                 she is the sound
                                                 of midnight air.
                                                 she hypnotizes with
                                                 a symphony of rhythm
                                                 which warns the mistress
                                                 beware!

artwork by Hannah Jorgensen

2009-11-19T20:56:00.000-08:00

"Many a man would rather you heard his story, than granted his request."

~Lord Chesterfield~

Girlfriend Night

2009-11-18T21:51:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I want to share a story for selfish reasons to get it off my mind. This is one of them. Once it has been typed and posted, hopefully, the laughing will subside.

Driving to Olathe from my house usually takes twenty minutes, but on a Friday night during rush hour traffic, it took forty five. I love Cedar street. The homes are tree lined, well lit and beautiful. When I was little, that is where the rich people lived or so I thought, now my friend Vicki lives there. The trailers were still in the driveway from the day's auction and it was so pitch dark, my daughter and I had to take baby steps.
"Ed, I know you're here, don't scare us!" I thought. Vicki's dad Ed was a joker with a big personality. Ghost hunters would love this guy! He came to our girlfriend parties after his wife died and then six months later, Ed joined her but I still felt like he was partying with us one last time.

I was mad because I didn't take the torquoise bracelet when Ed was alive. He said, "take it! take whatever you want, pay me later, take it!" Mad too because I didn't have the patience to stand in line at the auction. Oh well, Debbie had made her famous Italian dinner with homemade marinara sauce and roast that had slow cooked all day with pasta. The bruchetta with heirloom tomatoes and fresh garlic dripped olive oil down my wrist and the cold Bourbon slushy erased any fears of Ed jumping out of the corner.

We talked about jobs and co-workers, divorces and lawyers and Frank. "He came in the house after work and saw us women with the kids, house a mess and yelled about how he'd worked all day and why didn't we get anything done around here?" Vannessa said about her father-in-law. "Yea and then he watched the girls one Saturday afternoon for a couple of hours and when we came home we asked him what the heck was he doing all the time?" Vicki laughed. "Weren't you going to get dinner going?" "I was watching the girls!!" Frank had yelled.

They are a loud bunch so I moved myself to the private living room to start the Tarot card readings. All the preparations were being made like lighting two white candles, praying and centering for protection and Divine guidance. I placed the amethyst crystal on the table and felt a cool breeze across my shoulders. "Did you feel that mom?" Hannah whispered. "No! Shh!" I said. My first "client" was waiting and I had to change hats.

We are all so similar. Everyone wants to know if they're loved, if they are in the right place and who still thinks of them from their past. About this time, Hannah placed something in my hand from Vicki. It was a sterling silver bracelet with a torquoise stone and two feathers, handmade by Ed. A box had been overlooked by the auctioneer and inside was Ed's gold bracelet that Vicki had dearly loved, some pieces of handwritten recipes, lots of junk and my bracelet!

"Dad did this! He wanted you to have it." Vicki said. "I wanted the gold bracelet but was afraid to get it because of the law suit with my brothers."
"Well what do you know!" I thought. Six hours later, driving home, the moon was a radiant yellow and everything was cohesive. I felt loved, in the right place and knew that someone from my past loved still loved me. Next month, girlfriend night will be at my house. Think I'll make enchiladas.

Judge Not The Gift

2009-10-24T20:50:00.000-07:00

With hesitation I drove to the funeral this afternoon. Not because of the deceased who I had only met once and not because she had made my friend's life miserable. The throbbing in my right eyeball was the reason I wanted to stay home. The church was fair sized with a hand full of people. I sat in the back, alone, not wanting to be noticed. A bad mood is a bad mood no matter where a person is and I was still aching with yesterday's unfulfilled birthday wishes.

Who were these people anyway? The woman ahead of me had an eighties hairdo, and where were the rest of my friends? At home doing their own thing on a Saturday afternoon? I judged every little detail. There was no singing, shame! Served her right, the dead lady. She should have been nicer in life. Should have treated her girls better. Why did Bill give me such a tacky birthday present?

The minister cleared his throat and began to tell the story behind the woman named Jackie, mother to my friend. His words painted a different picture than the one I had heard. She loved her girls, was an extrovert who made friends wherever she went. Due to an unfortunate accident at birth, she had received a brain injury. Later in life, the injury had caused two strokes which possibly changed her thought processes. The minister spoke of her as a "gift". A gift who drove too fast, gossiped, giggled and spoke well of her daughters while maintaining her faith. I could see the back of their heads, felt their pain and wondered if they were regretting having judged God's gift.

After getting home, I looked at the oval mirror with the black velvet backing and read the hot pink lettering about a wonderful wife. It plays music to the song, "you light up my life". I don't know if I will keep it in the living room but whenever I look into the mirror and see my own reflection, it is going to remind me to be a gift, not the judgement of a gift.

Thankyou Jackie, may you rest in peace.

Fall Back

2009-10-11T20:42:00.000-07:00

"When you work, you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music...and what is it to work with love? It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.." ~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

"I wanna sing country songs and travel," she sighed. "But you don't even have a guitar!" I said, "isn't that the same as me wanting to be a cowboy 'cept I'm scared of horses?" We laughed, my sister and I at the art fair where imaginations run wild in the month of September and the beginning of Fall. It's the time of year when black creeps in on bark, making memory come alive. I notice it every year as the leaves change color. We become poets and our hearts begin to sing. It's like a wake up call to remind us all about our desires and correct path. Some people cry more and conjure feelings of regret.

We walked further and came across the dancing wire sculptures perfectly formed like a human body. Breathtaking! Photographers crowded the space trying to capture the sense of freedom.

"Do you remember little Bruce Roach?" I asked. "Mrs. McClanahan's grandson? Eew, he was scary weird, why?"my sister asked. "He's playing Edgar Allan Poe at the Coterie Theatre and the critics say he gives an eerie performance!" I rambled. "No way!" "Yeah way!" "So, he wasn't trying to kill us that summer, he was acting?" "Guess so," I said.

The best thing for us to remember our path could be as simple as being a kid again. Think about what you played, how you played and when did you feel like a weightless dancing sculpture? The place where time wasn't important either.

People paint with oil, people carve leaves into gourds, they use glass and some drink too much. The street music is always from the heart. My sister wants to sing, and I let her.

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven."

~WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE~

Photograph by Cathy Sherman www.GCUniverse.com/catherinescardstore

Muse

2009-09-13T19:58:00.000-07:00

the muse came uninvited!

his unpredictablity disturbed

and charmed with delicious

bits of wit.

I know his ways

and how he never stays

but she is young old spirit muse;

come back again

give me the soul

we'll put you down on

velum paper

with black letters

trimmed in gold.

....to my broken hearted, you loved and gave, I say you didn't lose a thing. Keep your laugh inside your pocket. Mom

Nine Nine Nine! Do It Now!

2009-09-09T20:25:00.000-07:00

Nine, nine nine. Some people say that's just six six six standing on it's head. Either way, it's magical and I won't see that number again in my lifetime. Driving to the gym tonight, I happened to glance at the clock right when it turned to 9:09 p.m., and I remembered what a first grader said to me. "It won't be here tomorrow!"
In numerology, the number nine represents completion and wisdom. People from all over the world today prayed and meditated on our "oneness". They even named this day the day of interconnectedness. Charlie went home sick because his body felt weird. Hannah was dizzy. My sleep was disturbed by memories of past wrongs. Twice I hit the pillow. Angie called and wanted to cancel her video shoot at my house. Excuses were made. The rain turned off the sun's light. "Would the deck be too dark for the camera?" Angie asked. "Well, you're the photographer" I answered. "It may cast shadows" she added. Our frustration was building and limitations were taking over. "What do you think Sandy?" "Do it!" we both said in unison.
Three small children came for the art class video and turned our world right side up again. We made eggshell mosaics and ironically it made sense to bring up the fact that people are all sorts of sizes. When we're glued together, it makes a pretty picture.
Once in a blue moon when numbers like nine nine nine at 9:09 p.m. come along, I'm going to remember that it's all about the present moment! Do your life now, don't wait. In the words of a very wise first grader, "it won't be here tomorrow!"

2009-08-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

Thankyou Al Gore
Thankyou Bill Clinton
Thankyou.

Lost in Translation

2009-07-08T14:51:00.000-07:00

uri-i-nal (yer-en-el) n. and v. a declaration concerning the current status or location of the person being spoken to. "If you think urinal lot of trouble now, just wait till Daddy gets home!"
~Jeff Foxworthy~
from his book, "Learning to talk more Gooder"

It sure would be nice if the whole world knew how to talk "more gooder" as comedian Jeff Foxworthy says. I know it beats talking badder!Today, while sitting in the bookstore, I watched a little guy with skinny tanned legs and a summer crew cut get torn down by his parents with the most hateful words I have ever heard said to a small child not even five years of age. The redneck in me wanted to deck the tar out of them but since I was in the New Age bookstore of a friend, I remained quiet and listened while sending them love. He was so cute, well behaved, bored half out of his mind and tired. Considering all of that, I thought he was quite well mannered and patient. Obviously, both parents cared deeply for their son and wanted to set a good example as I listened, probably to impress me as well, but their form of discipline was so brutal and non effective. They didn't know how powerful words are to our environment. How easy it is to change a situation with our breath and tone. Rather than state the obvious to our children such as, "you are a bad boy! when we get home, you are going to be real sorry. don't touch anything we told you, why don't you ever listen? you make mommy cry because you are so bad." I could feel my own body react and shut down, can you imagine how this boy felt?
We have the power to build or destroy with our mouth. It is much easier for our children to hear complimentary words such as, "I know this is boring and you are tired, we are almost finished." or, "you are such a patient young man, thankyou for not touching the books." I guarantee the results will be fabulous and you will be on your way to becoming a fine tuned magician.

"Happiness is a how, not a what; a talent, not an object."
~Hermann Hesse~

Sunday Paper

2009-07-05T21:01:00.000-07:00

"Life is a great bundle of little things."
Oliver Wendell Holmes~
Taking life for granted is a tragic blindness. We can be so consumed in our own world, we fail to see the greatness in others. Do you appreciate dedicated work that leaves invisible finger prints on your life? The weekly trash collectors, mail carriers, garden artisans, to name a few. Every Sunday like a sacred ritual, two scoops of coffee to eight cups water, comfy chair, big fat newspaper! It's always there, never fails and I enjoy the moment for one hour, sometimes two. Today, there was a typed letter from James Mason. Who? Never heard of the guy. Oh, he's the "News Guy" and responsible for getting my paper delivered, says the letter.

James is an independent contractor who works seven days a week for me and my neighbors. He is paid eleven cents a paper and whenever someone complains to the "big guys", he is charged five dollars which turns his week into a very bad one. Not a good profit for what he says is usually a stolen paper or even worse, a wet paper due to a reader's sprinkler system. They even have a wet paper complaint policy which means more money out of James' pocket.

My second cup of coffee comforts my lack of awareness. Paragraph four talks about the lines of cars who wait for newspapers. James is there by 1:00 a.m. and rolls the papers at the deteriorating mall close by. That explains why the paper is in my yard by 3:00 a.m. By cup three, I want to phone James and thank him! Next month, when the bill needs to be paid, there will be a tip included.

Instead of washing away finger prints, I think I'll pay closer attention to the lines, appreciating the hand made things of life.

Thankyou Michael Jackson, You Will Be Missed

2009-06-25T20:31:00.000-07:00

"Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break."
~William Shakespeare~

Last night, I was ecstatic, delirious with anticipation. Something was trying to speak through me and the only thing I could compare it with was the feeling when you're going to board an airplane or pickup someone you love from the airport. I asked if anyone was expecting company that I didn't know about but the answer was no. Then the music played. I heard instruments being tuned up for a concert and yee gads, nobody else heard it. A musician was coming to town is what my heart was saying and he would be talked about internationally. My town? No way. The butterflies and excitement continued until I went to bed but without any other clue except that I knew angels were involved in a very huge way!
Today, as I was trying to maneuver into the correct lane during butt to butt rush hour traffic, I heard the tragic news of Michael Jackson's death. My bubble had just been popped and yes, I mourn. Every station was playing his songs. My family loved him and my friends loved him. My memories are hugely connected to his music and my creative mind can't understand why other people labeled him as odd. He tapped into the endless field of possibilities with his talent that most people dare to even imagine.

I'm so touched that he is being welcomed hugely into Heaven which brings comfort now but jealous that we have lost another musical genius. After my busy errands today, there is a strange name on my machine. I read it three times and then happily screamed that it was my ninth grade best friend who I've lost contact with. How did she find me thirty some years later?
Maybe she heard Michael's song, "I'll Be There" or maybe it was "Ben", either way she found me. I will speak of the fun he created and not his quirkiness. After all, wasn't I myself gluing eggshells on the back of a Careers game board at two in the morning? Who are we to talk?

- Simple Truths: The Blog of Inspiration

2009-06-18T08:02:00.001-07:00

- Simple Truths: The Blog of Inspiration

Shared via AddThis

2009-06-07T22:07:00.000-07:00

If we're going to climb the ladder, get to the top, make it and be someone, I must say, it's better to have friends than to do it alone. We need someone to lean on to ease our balancing act.

First Friday

2009-06-05T21:11:00.000-07:00

His dreads are surprisingly clean
with a smile to melt butter
which softens his $6,000 price tag
on art I wouldn't have the guts
to show.
This place is full of irony
and the hoards of people
showing off their tanned bodies
are starting to mess with my
sense of identity.
Now I'm the odd piece of artwork
that's lost its over priced tag.

My Gift From God

2009-06-01T20:09:00.000-07:00

The name Hannah means "gift from God". I was at a park with my four children when I heard the name in my head. It was the same day my husband heard the name while driving home from work. We then decided that would be the chosen name of our fifth child. The doctor thought we were nuts. He wanted me to abort because a test showed that my unborn baby had no brain activity. I remember shrugging my shoulders in his office saying, "oh well, she'll get it next month." What did I know? I was thirty, too busy for worries and sick in love. He reminded me that I already had four children as if a fifth child would be a disease. On July 15th, I gave birth to a very healthy Hannah. Today, she is talented in art, drama, writing, spiritual pursuits, beautiful and extremely intelligent. We spent the day today taking pictures, in fact, this is the one from today that I took with the new camera.
I'm thinking of her today because of the tragedy in Kansas that led a man to murder an abortion doctor. Personally, abortion isn't something I believe in. I have friends who still cry over this mistake. Maybe it is a gray subject as my husband says, and I don't have the answers, but I am happy to this day that I chose life for Hannah. So many women claim it is our right and I agree. It is our right to have proper birth control. It is our right to choose not to have children, but once conception takes place, our right shifts to responsiblity. Unborn children should not be disposed of like recyled trash.

www.silentnomoreawareness.org/resources
www.americanadoption.com

Saying Goodbye to Internet Radio

2009-05-26T19:56:00.000-07:00

"There are no little events in life, those we think of no consequence may be full of fate, and it is at our own risk if we neglect the acquaintances and opportunities that seem to be casually offered, and of small importance."
~Amelia Barr

Do you ever think about the people in your life? The above quote was on the back of Kim's business card, a painter I met at Home Depot who sparked a conversation because he thought I looked like an old girlfriend's sister. We talked as though we had known each other our whole lives and I wondered why this moment had presented itself. As I was leaving, he said to be sure and check out the website on his card www.allencarrseasyway.com
that helped people quit smoking. My prayers for that week had been to make my son's cigarette habit disappear. Our conversation seemed divinely guided and I was glad I allowed him space to chat. Are we a society that thanks the unseen world for the people who come for a season, a lifetime or just thirty minutes while the paint gets mixed? Do you go day to day without noticing and thinking nothing is for you?
As I reflect on my friends, I say thank you to Wendy. She came into my life to breathe just enough air to spark a fire so that I would remember to write. For one year, we met and interviewed the most amazing people on Conscious Living www.talkshoe.com. but lately, I started to feel like a duck out of water. My place is no longer with the show and I will be moving on to concentrate on my art projects and creative writing. Looking at the bigger picture, I now know Wendy and I were gifts for each other to last a season. She awakened my desire for words and I stuck with her with true blueness. Now she stands better alone, knowing I will always be there and I am once again, grateful for divine intervention with another friend.

Who breathes on your dreams? Pay very close attention for there are no little events in life!

My Buddy

2009-05-23T21:09:00.000-07:00

How rude! First he climbed in the wire basket that held the bird feeders, then he clung upside down on the screen showing us his under belly. Feeling sorry for him, I gave him my entire basket of black walnuts as a gift, thinking he would take a nut or two and run off to play. Instead, he buried the entire basket of nuts in the soft dirt, tossing out the newly planted flowers on the brick walkway. If that wasn't bad enough, he ran upstairs while I wasn't looking and closed the screen door on me! How rude!

Happy Mother's Day

2009-05-10T21:10:00.000-07:00

Looking through a family photo album one day, it saddened me to see how many pictures in the book were without me. It was as though I hadn't existed, not a trace and yet I was the person who baked the birthday cakes, decorated the Christmas trees, organized fundraisers, carpooled children to four different schools and three part time jobs in one year. Wasn't I the person who dried tears, broke up beer parties, waited up all night for prom and helped type overdue homework papers?

Always having had strong women in my own life, I gasped in guilt about the times I had taken my mother for granted, not noticing her feelings or seeing her tears when I voiced my opinions. She raised strong women who then raised strong women and it occured to me how very lucky I am to have had such a strong foundation to build from.

When a house is built, we don't see its foundation. We take pictures of the house and people comment on its beauty but never say, "great foundation!"On the other hand, if the foundation is cracked or damaged, the house will fall and then we may say, "whoa, crappy foundation!"

There is much to be said about unconditional love and the women in our lives who give it. They remind me of the importance of our sun, trees, clean air and rain. Sometimes taken for granted or ignored, but dangerous to lose. For all women today who either have children or nurture others, Happy Mother's Day!

www.mothersdayforpeace.com

Gentle Snowflake

2009-05-03T20:42:00.000-07:00

As hard as it is, it goes so fast and won't last forever. Given to us for such a short time like little snowflakes, unique in their own way. Watch your words, smile often and play everyday. They notice your every action, your every kindness. Give apologies when needed. Let them make mistakes too for that's how they learn.

www.savethechildren.org

Seeing The Inside/Nic Askew and Soul Biographies

2009-04-30T17:44:00.000-07:00

Who paints a house lavender? What were they thinking and if that wasn't bad enough, it had pink plastic flowers in pots! Every time we drove past it, someone commented on the tacky house. It seemed out of place compared to its neighbors but there was some sort of energy emanating from the up stair's window. Finally, one day there was a garage sale sign in front of the house so I pulled off of the street to take a peek. "Come on mom! Don't stop at this one," my youngest daughter begged. There was something for us, I just didn't know what. As we walked towards the house, an elderly man approached with snow white hair and beautiful blue eyes. He was so delighted to see us and I got the feeling he hadn't had much company. There wasn't anything except junk in little shoe boxes but he was talkative and his smile was sincere. I mentioned how pretty his house color looked next to pink and then his story spilled out.
His only daughter had gone into the hospital when she was twenty for a simple operation on her ankle and died from complications. It had devastated him and he worried because he was never able to finish painting her bedroom lavender as he had promised. One day, he decided, what the heck, he would paint the whole outside of the house so she could see it from Heaven. Then he put in plastic flowers because he no longer had his wife who owned a green thumb. My daughter and I exchanged glaring shame on us looks and then said our good byes. The house has been sold to new owners long ago and the color has changed three times but I always feel a special "something" when I drive past the house.
We seem quick to judge others by appearances, place of residence, color and tone of voice. There are stories inside people worth being heard if we would quit trying to figure out the ending and let them speak. Nic Askew, a film maker who has captured the human spirit through his short films of many different people from all walks of life is such an inspiration. He says to come into a conversation without expectation, keep everything in the present moment and soon you'll walk away with a miracle that is beyond words to describe. After the interview, all I could hear were the words, "Be Happy!" www.soulbiographies.com
www.talkshoe.com (Conscious Living)

Spring's Cologne

2009-04-26T18:43:00.000-07:00

late night thunderstorm
without a moon
blows scents of lilacs
throughout my room,
reminding me that
dead men hide in bottles
inside drawers and on top
of mirrored trays.
i'm the little girl
who knows this
from women of my yesterdays.
aunt rosie's cries still linger
like the memory of her
boyfriend once
held captive inside
a vessel made of glass.
i watched her smell the liquid
too afraid to breathe or blink
just wanting to smash the glass
and release him to the spring time air.

Silly Dinosaurs

2009-04-10T22:27:00.000-07:00

Junk drawers hold the greatest treasures. Words and art by Dylan Tracy, aged 3.

The Soulmate Secret/Arielle Ford

2009-04-06T20:25:00.000-07:00

The garden must be prepared in the soul first
or else it will not flourish.
-English Gardening Proverb

There used to be a poster in Mr. Salmon's class that read, "Spring is when the boys start to notice what the girls have been waiting for all winter!" Forever and ever, I have wondered about love and the existence of a soul mate. Mom would ruin things by saying love was a state of mind. No, it was a good looking man who drove fast with a slightly bigger nose, beautiful voice and soft lips, that was love. It was getting your girlfriends together on a new moon to stare into a mirror until the image of your future husband appeared. We were too scared to wait for the results so we'd turn to herbs. Sleeping with honeysuckle and lavender was said to promote dreams of your soul mate while white rose petals brought pure love. Never were girls to try on their mother's wedding rings for fear of becoming old maids. My brother knew the tricks and chased us, trying to sweep the tops of our feet with a broom while teasing that he had a parrot in the house! Bad omens should be taken seriously with concerns of the heart.
Those friends and I are now 32 years married but Debbie still calls for matchmaking advice. "Where is he?" she asks while I cut the deck three times and choose ten cards. Her ring startles me. "Why are you wearing a ring on your left hand?" I ask. "Oh, I don't know" she says. My mom's words ring true! Love is a state of mind and Debbie's mind is still thinking about her failed marriage and the hurt it has caused her. So she wears a fake wedding ring that sends a huge message of unavailability. She had a fear of removing the ring and said she would do it later.

Now for the good news! Arielle Ford, author and Conscious Living guest (www.talkshoe.com)
has a new book called, "The Soulmate Connection" (www.soulmatesecret.com)
and she tells us to get a pen and paper. Write down what you desire in a mate, his eye color, will he or she live close, everything, just write! Sound too easy to be true? It works and age has no rule. A woman in her eighties found her second soulmate through this technique. I loved that she added some magic by placing the words in a jar and placing them outside during a new moon. If you look on her website, you will see a picture of her manifested soulmate. When they met, he said he felt as though he had known her already. Oh, love, how sweet it is.

Debbie and I are going out in a couple of days, think I'll buy her a journal with a pretty pen. I'll probably throw in a pinch of basil that encourages loving feelings and faithfulness for old times sake and good measure!

"The Universe is full of magical things
patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper."

-Eden Phillpotts

Death's Curve Ball

2009-03-16T21:38:00.000-07:00

Cliff never believed in angels. You die, you're dead, that's it. I liked him. He was a gentle giant to me in his 6 foot 6 frame who cried at my daughter's wedding, saying he had never felt so much love from a family before. There were stories inside his head that I wanted to know more about. Like when he was a musician in Chicago who got thrown out of a bar for singing Jesus loves me on the table top. Or the times he must have had when he tended bar at the lake. He and I met after his wild days were over and he was my son-in-law's dad, owner of his own business. We shared birthday cakes and two beautiful grandchildren. Then one day, cancer took hold of Cliff's body. At first, it seemed like a terrible injustice and it was, but there was also a miracle being woven into our lives through his cancer.
First came the dream. Two "beings" and I lifted him with a green sheet to The Hospital of Lights. Words cannot describe the beauty of the place with its golden glow. He was laid horizontally while many lights scanned his body in sections. Peace filled everything it touched and I wanted to be on the table too but was told, no. After the dream, I began visualizing healing light and praying for him consistently. He was stuck in between worlds, ours, Heaven's and the drug induced world but we still paid close attention to his words. He laughed when I told him I was never good at playing charades and then his gaze would shift and he spoke of the beautiful women who were in the room. Angels? Of course! he'd say. My daughter would have dreams about the two of them speaking only to be surprised the next morning when she found out he had screamed out her name twice in his sleep. This strengthened everyone's faith. The Hospice worker said in fifteen years, she has been with Catholics, Jews, Muslims, atheists, among others and all of them talk of angels. Cliff mentioned how he felt love returned for the first time in his life which has always been my idea of why we're here, to grow through love. It was starting to make sense that when life marries with death, a miracle occurs for those who have hearts to see.
Sadly, we lost Cliff on Saturday at 3:44 in the morning. Something kept whispering as I slept, trying to give a confused message so I glanced at the clock. 4:11 a.m. Somewhere I have a feeling there's a very large man teasing angels that he was just kidding about not believing in them. Somewhere too, there is a Hospital of Lights healing all cancers of the spirit.

Staycation Anniversary

2009-03-10T18:37:00.000-07:00

"There is no "try", only DO!"
Yoda

This month marks the one year anniversary of the Conscious Living show on www.talkshoe.com with Wendy. Yesterday, someone called to ask why I haven't posted lately so I apologized and promised to get busy. Truth be told, my mind went on vacation. I need to pause and reflect on the magnitude of knowledge that has passed my ears. Buddhism teaches that we must learn something new everyday that will alter our perspective. With awareness comes validation that we had it all along. It's

easy to get lost in a world full of negativity and resentment, but when we start to focus on the beauty of a sunset or droplets of water, our brains begin to change. Blood pressure is lowered and the heart pulses with blood that begins to purify our bodies. We feel connected once again, alive with inner passion and a beauty that says, "I Am."

Two Row Sunday

2009-03-01T19:22:00.000-08:00

There is a little white church in front of the house where my friend Debbie lives. It's located in a remote area of Kansas off a dirt road with a cemetery in the back. Some of the graves are as old as the hundred year old church that's been newly painted. It took Debbie a year or so to cave and attend the church and I tease that it's a five minute walk. Sometimes there are only a handful of people and other Sundays as many as twenty five attend. Last Sunday, the minister asked what the people were thankful for and a small boy answered, "we have a two row Sunday!" So simple were his words, packed with hope and gratitude.
Everywhere you look, you will find "two row Sunday's". Last night it was in Aaron's apartment. He had made his famous jambalaya stew, invited his siblings and cleaned up the place. There were chocolate bars for desert and cartoons on the big screen television for the younger crowd. I saw it today on the snowy hill. Two fellas padded up to their necks in layers of warm clothes, throwing snowballs at each other and belly laughing like a great father and son team. The article in today's paper talked about Terry Durham, an eleven year old ordained minister who preaches at True Gospel Deliverance Ministry for a 20 seat nondenominational storefront church that was founded by his grandmother.
"God put his spirit upon me," says Terry, "but he didn't say how old you had to be or anything like that."
We have so many talents and so many different ways to share love to others. The wave of change is here. We are the podcasters, photographers and bloggers, the hostesses to many and the hostesses to few. We answer phone calls and minister by our simple presence, we are the caregivers and the comedians. Soon it'll be a "million row Sunday"!

"..lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace" (Eph.4:1-3)

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T16:20:00.000-08:00

The entire class of girls received a standard piece of thin paper with the usual words, " be mine," placed in a small envelope that didn't stay shut with our first name written on the front. Except Becky. Beautiful Becky with the long strawberry blond hair who laughed at anything the boys would say. She was handed an envelope that was three times the size of mine, store bought from Hallmark and given with a "special" look. My first taste of jealousy, on the fourteenth day of February! What was so special about Becky, and where was my special look?
I'm not alone wondering about this riddle we call love. I saw it everywhere today. Restaurants were packed and so were stores. Men stood paralyzed in front of card isles as though their life depended on the right choice and I listened to several women complaining about their men. Last week, the new movie, "He's Not Into You" came out with advice for women to learn what makes men tick. There is also a new book written by Cerina Vincent and Jodi Lipper, titled, "How To Love Like A Hot Chick" (www.talkshoe.com
Conscious Living) They recommend it's all about confidence. Mixed message I say! Especially if you've seen the movie first. Although I agree with having confidence, I don't agree that is what will win the man. I say it's easier than that. We all want to be noticed, to be understood. Why not try to "see" the "special" in someone instead of the hyped romance the advertisers try to sell. Our confidences can only grow through love. Happy Valentine's Day!

Hey Lucky!

2009-02-05T15:10:00.000-08:00

"Lucky's believing you're lucky."
Rod Stewart

Since gardening is the safest way to gamble and spring being far away, why not tweak your luck by entering contests? Carolyn Wilman, known to everyone as The Contest Queen has tips and links to thousands of contests. Reading her blog www.contestqueen.com/fromthe/ made me excited with the possibility of winning, so I entered the contest sponsored by www.Strutta.com (Winter Wonderland) uploaded a picture and now just wait for my prize win! It was so easy. Carolyn refers to her prizes as Christmas wins because she never knows what to expect. One of my favorite sites that I found on her blog was www.actualfreestuff.com but it requires more work answering questions. The reward could be $1,000 of free groceries, gas, makeup and art if you're willing to spend the time.
So what attracts luck? Would certain days be better for winning as numerology suggests or perhaps wearing a crystal necklace? Carolyn suggests writing five things on an index card that you would like to win and see this card every day. Say these things out loud to help create an intention with focus. Go ahead! Surprise yourself, have fun winning even if nobody understands your funny hat.

Super Bowl

2009-02-02T09:54:00.000-08:00

Somewhere in Chicago is a landlord who still talks about it. It must have weighed an extra fifty pounds at least. Every little triangle shaped piece of tile had first been rolled out with clay then stamped with sea horses and star fish, put into a kiln, fired and hand painted. Rosie's masterpiece! Only the boys complained about it because of the dangerous lid that wouldn't stay open due to the thickness of the tile, but it flushed and was the coolest toilet on the block. Now that was a super bowl!

25 Random Things...Whew!

2009-01-31T21:18:00.000-08:00

Knock Knock!
"who's there?"
Sherwood.
"Sherwood who?"
sure would like to be in the house.

Wendy is right! Everyone is tagging on Facebook about the 25 random things about yourself. I keep ignoring that but she double tagged on her blog so I have to...play!
1. Charlie and I were the only ones laughing at the comedy club.
2. My shoe box is almost full to the top with lids for an art project.
3. I'm the only one in Yoga class who can't do "chararunga!"
4. I see dead people.
5. Paying $l00 for a college book makes my nostrils flare.
6. I drive slow through the neighborhood on trash day.
7. Is my grandmother's favorite number.
8. My face is in a walmart ad in a magazine but nobody can see me.
9. Dad used to call me "Waldo".
10. There are four stray cats living in my backyard loving my chicken scraps.
11. If Bill wasn't so scared of birds, I would have two in a cage.
12. Strangers have told me giant secrets.
13. Love is the only way out of hell, keep walking.
14. Never say, "that's not for me" or you will soon be blogging and joining Facebook!
15. John Candy the comedian gives me "noogies" in my dreams.
16. There was a time when I decorated wedding cakes.
17. I understand Spanish so don't comment on my, yeah, thinking I'm Swedish.
18. My only brother and I fly together in dreams.
19. Meditation is the reason I don't jump or scream when my kids try to scare me on purpose.
20. Speaking of purpose, that is the best energy boost to create joy.
21. I have never ever pumped gas, ever.
22. Los Angeles scares me but my daughter is an actress.
23. I like to sweep the neighbor's sidewalk as a surprise.
24. I laugh when Steve walks over from the block over to tell me I missed a spot as he points
across the street.
25. Life is good thanks to my diverse groups of friendships.

Recycled Again

2009-01-28T15:31:00.000-08:00

Death is a trouble maker and I hate when it comes to visit. It wrecks everyone's energy, causing fights to errupt and fear to grow. Plans are altered and our future has to be rewritten. It slept with me last night, whispering plans of its abduction like a sneaky snake that's waiting to bite. No matter how many people we lose, the pain is always fresh. Some books say we chose three different ways we will leave this world. The time I was in a gas station in Juarez, Mexico waiting for the car to be washed, all of a sudden the room got fuzzy and I was having trouble speaking. My mouth was sideways and I knew I was leaving but didn't understand how or why. I even managed a laugh in my thoughts about how I would never have guessed this would be my end. Thank God, my aunt saw what was happening and put a coke in my mouth. Like the flick of a light switch, I was back to normal! Do we get three chances and a head start with death?
It is comforting to read and listen to other people's stories about death. Annamaria Hemingway's book, "Practicing Conscious Living and Dying" is a great help with a collection of uplifting stories, showing death as an integral part of life. www.practicingconsciouslivinganddying.com
What comforts me most when waiting for a loved one's passing is the telling of dreams. My little Dylan dreamed about his great-great grandmother who he's never met. The night before, I was thinking of her and so was my sister but she chose to visit her little great-great grandson. He told us how she held his little sister and gave her rootbeer which would be something she did when she was alive! Although he's never seen her picture, his description of her was correct.
Like the tree that loses its leaves in the fall and regrows them in the spring, we too will be.

Name It and Claim It/Helene Hadsell

2009-01-25T18:35:00.000-08:00

"And even the wind held its breath, wondering which direction the wish would land. No outside voices were allowed until the arrow hit its target, making all night fairies sing or cry, depending on the wish."
Sandy J.

There is a law that states, what goes around, comes around and carries with it a warning, "be careful what you wish for". If you look at the things in your life, it will come as no surprise that chances are, you spoke it first. I had the pleasure of listening to Helene Hadsell speak on Conscious Living about this exact thing. She's the woman who has won every contest she's entered, even a house! www.thewinningsage.com/products/index_lpo?sr=1&prid=16894&gclid=CNTQlduvq5gCFQ6jagod4Oi4mQ
One of my favorite interviews so far, get her book and start naming and claiming your life! Wendy has booked her back for March 18th. www.talkshoe.com (Conscious Living)

How do you make it happen? Set a clear intention, speak the words and wait for the will of Heaven. I wish someone would have told me this back in the day. The day when an entire summer passed and I teased Paul who was going to be a freshman in high school that I was coming on enrollment day with no front teeth to embarrass him. The words had been spoken, set into motion and sure enough it happened! I broke my front tooth the day before enrollment. My dentist was booked and I had no choice but to pay for book fees without my tooth. I had tried to make a fake tooth with my clay but the nerve was exposed which made it painful to the touch. Ironically, I had also said how I wished my front side tooth was straight for a meeting with someone that month. It had gotten crooked because of wisdom teeth. Well, the dentist replaced the tooth, perfect and straight. Wish granted. Our words are like arrows and will hit their mark better if we name it and claim it without hesitation.

The Sting of Prejudice

2009-01-19T07:11:00.000-08:00

Two summers ago, the little white house next to my parent's sold for $89,000. My dad did backward flips over that news and complained about the ridiculous economy. He could have bought the house for $5,000 in the late 70's but chose to take our family to Mexico instead. Dad has regretted that decision to this day because the only good neighbor that ever came from that house was Beverly. She ironed clothes in her tiny hot living room wearing a bra and shorts with giant boobs and drank iced tea from a blue plastic glass. Everything she cooked tasted delicious, and she always let us girls dance on the porch in the hot sun until our albums would warp from the heat. Her three daughters and I spent many summers together making fairy houses out of the over grown lilac bushes and playing dress up. I loved them and they loved me.
It wasn't long before Linda, the middle child started to point out our differences. She made fun of her older sister for being light and the baby sister for being so dark and looking like a "gorilla". I learned new words that summer. My sisters and I were "honky's". When I laughed, she grabbed me from the waist and slammed me to the ground. We were wearing long dresses and high heeled shoes, dressed so proper then Beverly came running out of the house screaming, "you ignorant, ignorant children! when will this kind of fighting ever stop? get in the house, go child, GO!" Then Linda called everyone a nigger and I watched while Beverly broke a switch from the tree and beat Linda in the legs.
We mended our fight, but the tension stayed. As we grew older, it seemed we could only play together as long as we stayed in the yard and not seen in public. One day, Beverly's husband was killed in a car accident while at work. The insurance money bought her family a new white car, new furniture, new lamps that she kept the plastic on and a new life away from us. I cried so hard when they moved and we have all since lost contact with each other.
Every time I visit my parents, I think of them when I see the little white house. My mother learned to sew from Beverly and we learned the sting of prejudice. I know things have changed since my father's times and even mine. I see it getting better with my children's generation and someday, my grandchildren will be color blind to their neighbors. We all belong to one God, under one sun. $89,000 for a little $5,000 house! What a change! Happy Martin Luther King day to all!

Second Semester

2009-01-13T20:20:00.000-08:00

The wreath in the downstair's bathroom is the only thing leftover from the Christmas decorations. Sea shells and sticks covered in ice crystals, qualify its stay until February. The house feels a little naked now that the tree is gone along with furry stockings and garlands of greenery that covered windows. For somebody who complains about the work it takes to carry on this unpacking of accumulated Christmas stuff, I should be very happy that it's gone but the kitchen is haunted with sounds of December and it feels lonely. My college girl is back in her dorm room tonight or at least in the town anyway. We spent the day together eating cherry pie with cups of hot coffee and shopping her favorite thrift store like scavengers. She complained that the school had erased her files on the computer and made her restart everything. I couldn't help but notice how strong her confidence had become and how eager she was to return to her new friends. Last semester, I had to pull her off of me.
Driving into the town, I remembered the basketball game was being played with over 17,000 spectators. The traffic would be terrible and the car was filled to the brim. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, Gavin phoned that he'd be waiting by the front door with a cart so I wouldn't have to get out. I drove away right before the police barricaded the area! (yikes, the radio just started playing upstairs due to a power surge)
Ah, I breathe, the music is saying, "what a day, what a day, the wild child" and I'm reminded that this crazy old world really is perfect. January is the month to reflect. I won't make new year's resolutions. Instead, I plan to delete the bad, restart everything, build my confidence and enjoy second semester. Hopefully, in the end, I'll be graded on the curve.

2009-01-09T21:05:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rGkseGFQLh4

Bring in The Clowns! Matt Zo

2009-01-07T20:16:00.000-08:00

The phone call that wakes a person up from sleep with bad news first thing in the morning sends a message to the brain that today's play will be a tragedy. The script was handed to me today and now I am a confused cast member. Someone I respect and love has terminal cancer, again. He's waved his white flag and thrown in the towel saying, "you can't win 'em all". Maybe the director in the sky could rewrite the story? Tell this leading man to eat greens, drink Kombucha, embrace love and release anger, but that would be selfish on my part. He must find his own way.
Scene one, act two and I find myself alone on the stage without an audience. Starring blankly into the darkness and trying to remember my next line, a guide whispers, "we will all face God alone. The journey is personal to ourselves, therefore, judge not."
I wasn't intending to be a part of the interview today on Conscious Living but Wendy had scheduled a very funny comedian named Matt Zo, the laughing guru. As coincidences arrive at the perfect time and synchronicity clears it's throat, something went wrong! Matt couldn't hear us speaking so he had to wing a thirty minute podcast...alone! We typed messages to help him along only to find he was perfectly capable of standing on the stage without the sound of laughter in the background. This would be death to a comedian, but not Matt. You can listen to his words of comic wisdom at http://www.talkshoe.com/ or go to his website. http://www.gurumatzo.com/
I love his disclaimer. "any purported wisdom, miracles, love or laughter that I might spread is purely by luck." Is it really luck? God bless the comedians that lighten our load for they are the ones who remind us that The show must go on!