Today

I stand on the sidewalk on a sunny Colorado day in May. I'm dressed in black. So are the other six women who are also standing here as a reminder, a call, for peace. I'm kind of amazed that, for some reason, we keep coming back to this corner through rain and snow and hot, sweaty days. What is it about these women that they take this act so seriously while others spend their Saturdays shopping or going to the mountains? We stand for an hour every week and allow affirmations as well as insults to pass through us like fog through the trees.


Car horns honk. People wave. A driver in the westbound traffic yells out her window, "Freedom isn't free!". A hand reaches out of the back of a small van and forms the peace sign. Many drivers, cellphone to their ears, never seem to notice us.

A couple who appear to be in their 60s walk by and the man tells the woman what our signs say. I can't tell by his voice whether he supports our message or not. The couple sits on the bench at the bus stop and I can watch them as I stand. I figure out that the woman is blind. She never looks anywhere but directly ahead. The man, who has a beautiful, snowy white head of hair and a little paunchy belly, pulls out a yo-yo and begins to play. He is a master. I didn't know that yo-yos even existed anymore! At one point, I hear him explain to his wife (or friend or whatever role she plays) every trick he is doing and she proudly celebrates his expertise. I can't stop smiling.

Life is amazing, isn't it?

89

If you have read my blogs over the last ALMOST FOUR YEARS (how did THAT happen???), you will know that I don't write about most parts of my life. You may have noticed, too, that I don't usually write about other people in my life. I guess that I have a somewhat private nature and I also don't know who reads this blog, so out of respect for others in my life, I don't speak of them here.

And all of this cracks me up because, most likely, there are not more than two or three people who ever read this blog. A while ago, I quit looking at stats on my CarolForPeace blog, and I intentionally don't have any stats set up on this one. The reason that I don't have stats is: I don't want to edit myself based on audience or lack thereof. And I still edit... A lot.

(She's hopeless, I tell ya.)

But, I want to venture out and write a little about my recent adventures in FamilyLand. I do this out of sincere respect for my family and out of a desire to express what's in me.

Today is my dad's 89th birthday. I don't know whether or not he knows that. Ever since my dad had heart surgery four years ago (there's that "four" number again!), he has not been quite the same. Things have changed more rapidly over the past few months and even more rapidly over the past couple of weeks.

I am fine hanging out with people who have Alzheimer's or dementia. The way my brain works, I can often have a lot more fun with them than with people who live in their heads. So my dad's process is not a problem to me, in and of itself. This is what IS a problem for me: I get all wobbly about family dynamics and about "the system". A part of me wants to be a little girl and have my mom be the strong person who tells me that she can handle what's coming up. A huge part of me absolutely detests the medical/insurance/"healthcare" system and wants no part of it.

So, here I am. I'm not a little girl - no one is going to save the day - and I'm getting to support my parents in the system, knowing that, most likely, I will be more deeply entrenched in it in the near future.

I had a dream a couple of nights ago. I was at a party with a lot of people. I was having a conversation when, suddenly, a huge ocean wave broke through into the room we were in, carrying us all away. I was under water, being pulled out into the sea. I told myself not to breathe so that I wouldn't take in water. When things settled down, I was able to touch the ground beneath me and my head was above water. I gulped in air and that gulp woke me up.


Lately, I can sometimes feel like I'm being swept out to sea and I have no control over anything. Truthfully, I do question if we really ever do have any control over anything. And the illusion of control can be both kind of comforting and also very limiting.

There is so much beauty to be found in this process.

And it's not easy.

A Study in Rhododendrons

I didn't even know what a rhododendron was before this trip to Whidbey Island. Now, I've seen every color that exists, I've absorbed the sweet aromas through my nose and my pores, and I've come to understand, somewhat, why some people bathe in the rhododendron life.

We met a man who is an internationally recognized rhododendron hybridist. As he gave us a tour of his property, I was jealous of the comfort, confidence, and familiarity that he had with the land, his flowers and life.

It reminded me of a story that Ram Dass tells. He was giving a talk about heavy spiritual stuff to a bunch of people. In the front row, an older woman wearing a hat with artificial flowers was busy crocheting. She continually nodded in agreement with Ram Dass' words - even when the words got pretty "out there". After the talk, Ram Dass asked the woman how she knew so well what he was saying. She replied, "I crochet."

Maybe it doesn't matter what we do, whether it's crocheting, hybriding rhododendrons, praying or meditating. Maybe it's the focus and open heart that we bring to it that makes all of the difference.

Here are some of the "rhodies" that we imbibed. Take your time with them. Aren't they beautiful?















Peace to you, my friend.

Flying High

It's not often that one can look down upon a soaring hawk. We were on a cliff in Greenbank on Whidbey Island, looking down upon the Admiralty Inlet, when a red-tailed hawk flew between us and the water. Be still, my little heart. What a show! Never before have I seen the bird's red tail like this.

I am the eagle, I live in high country
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky
I am the hawk and there's blood on my feathers
But time is still turning, they soon will be dry
And all of those who see me, all who believe in me
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly

Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops
Sail o'er the canyons and up to the stars
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
And all that we can be and not what we are
- John Denver

Flowers Everywhere

Early morning fog on Whidbey Island

I'm back from a week on Whidbey Island. While there, I had a day to be a tourist before my retreat began. "Retreat" is probably not the right word for the experience. Yes, I retreated from the "outside" world, but I did sit in a sort of "class" for much of the time. I was surrounded by 27 other people all day and had two room-mates at night. My idea of retreat involves a lot of hermitting and having as much free time as I want, so I guess this trip didn't qualify for that.

Last night after I got home, I went to bed at 7:45 and I slept until around 6:30 this morning. That's what a week of 27 people, along with deep inquiry into all of my belief systems, does to me.

Soon I will tell you about the rhododendron gardens on Whidbey. Rhododendrons were never interesting to me before, but I truly enjoyed the amazing walk in beauty they provided.

Goodbyes

We may never see these owls again. I don't have a lot of time to visit the Owl family right now and it won't be long until the babies are taking flying lessons.

Here are a some photos from a couple of days ago (thanks to Mr. Carol for Peace). Both kids were out of the nest and mom and dad were hanging out in different trees nearby.

See both of them? (Little guy is down in the left-hand corner.) One is much more mature than the other.

Big Brother

I've been trying to figure out how the babies got out of the nest and onto tree branches. For the past few days, they have been perched high in another cottonwood that sits a few feet away from their nest. They must be able to fly a little already - probably taking night classes in flight instruction.

I tried to watch them as long as I could (as long as my neck could stand to crane and my arms could tolerate holding the binoculars to my eyes), because I wanted to be there when they got a meal delivery or decided to move to a new branch. But neither of those things occurred on my watch.

I'm going to miss the little fellers.

Peace is Already Here

If peace is dependent on arms and legs and houses and cars, then there is no possibility of peace.* Peace has no conditions. - Byron Katie, speaking about the beliefs that some of us can sometimes have about needing more money.

*Blogger's Note: This can also be applied to our perceived needs for more oil, power, land, love, etc., etc.

Letting Go

Too much going on. I have not been thinking about blogging and I haven't had the time nor the energy to visit many blogs, either. Sometimes I just have to do the minimal to get by in order to not feel like I'll burn up in spontaneous combustion.

Things are fine. Things are beautiful. There's just a lot going on right now. I only work 2 days a week (OK. 2 1/2 during times like these) but it feels like I'm working full time. Probably, if I listed all that I was doing, it wouldn't sound like so much, but for some reason, it feels like I'm just this side of more than I can handle. I'm watery, crying easily, which is not common for me. I'm tired. It's hard, but it's good. A spring cleanse? Like the snowmelt that causes the creeks around here to flow with such intensity and beauty that I feel renewed just standing by them?

I'm willing to see where the waters take me. Maybe beavers have built a dam and the creek will have carved new pathways in order to reach its destination. I'm interested in taking in the sights along the way.

Me and the Buddha dog hunting owls

Oh, Happy Mother's Day to everyone - to the women who have birthed sons and daughters and to everyone else who has created something that contributes to life. Happy Mother's Day for those whose labors bring peace.

From Julia Ward Howe's call to create an international Mother's Day celebrating peace and motherhood:

Arise, then, women of this day!
Arise all women who have hearts,
Whether your baptism be that of water or of tears
Say firmly:

"We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands shall not come to us reeking of carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of
charity, mercy and patience.

"We women of one country
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."

Bubo virginianus

The great-horned owl species is called Bubo virginianus. Lovely, huh?

Other facts:
Wingspans are 36 - 60 inches. The female is 10% - 20% larger than the male.
The owl can take prey that is 2 - 3 times heavier than itself. It can swallow a small rabbit whole.

Mr. Carol For Peace got himself a new, fancy camera that can get closer photos than our other cameras. He took these this evening:

Dad

The Young'uns

What a difference 11 days can make! To see what they looked like just 11 days ago, click here.
It won't be too long - maybe a couple of weeks - before the babies will be out of the nest and not easy to find.

Unlike recent years, this year we've had to share this family with many other human visitors. This nest is located in a place where there is a fair amount of foot traffic, due to its proximity to a parking lot and a road. Once one person sits and looks at the owls with a big, honkin' lens, everyone else wants to see them, too. I generally like to keep nest locations a secret, since you never know the intentions of some people, but this year I have been enjoying how much pleasure people get from watching these beautiful creatures.

Totally like whatever, you know?

(Thank you to my daughter for this)




Totally like whatever, you know?

In case you hadn't noticed,
it has somehow become uncool
to sound like you know what you're talking about?
Or believe strongly in what you're saying?
Invisible question marks and parenthetical (you know?)'s
have been attaching themselves to the ends of our sentences?
Even when those sentences aren't, like, questions? You know?


Declarative sentences -- so-called
because they used to, like, DECLARE things to be true
as opposed to other things which were, like, not -
have been infected by a totally hip
and tragically cool interrogative tone? You know?
Like, don't think I'm uncool just because I've noticed this;
this is just like the word on the street, you know?
It's like what I've heard?
I have nothing personally invested in my own opinions, okay?
I'm just inviting you to join me in my uncertainty?


What has happened to our conviction?
Where are the limbs out on which we once walked?
Have they been, like, chopped down
with the rest of the rain forest?
Or do we have, like, nothing to say?
Has society become so, like, totally...
I mean absolutely... You know?
That we've just gotten to the point where it's just, like...
whatever!


And so actually our disarticulation... ness
is just a clever sort of... thing
to disguise the fact that we've become
the most aggressively inarticulate generation
to come along since...
you know, a long, long time ago!


I entreat you, I implore you, I exhort you,
I challenge you: To speak with conviction.
To say what you believe in a manner that bespeaks
the determination with which you believe it.
Because contrary to the wisdom of the bumper sticker,
it is not enough these days to simply QUESTION AUTHORITY.
You have to speak with it, too.