A Peace Carol

Home Is Where...

2012-02-02T13:22:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I watched a big, fat, blue-gray pigeon fastidiously shop for home-building supplies, then carefully carry each piece up to a ledge on the side of a building. So much care was taken to be sure that each piece was the proper something or other - size? strength? shape?

Tonight it is predicted that we will begin to receive a ferocious dumping of snow. After days where I could feel the hint of spring brewing beneath the ground, snows and winds will come charging through this city. If the forecasters are right.

Will Mr. or Mrs. Pigeon shake his/her fist at the skies, shouting vulgar words at a god who would one day pretend that spring wants to take hold while unleashing renewed winter fury the next?

I have seen snow-covered mama owls sitting on percolating eggs. How a feather-covered bird can sit in near-zero temperatures with a film of snow around and on her, I can't understand. I am in my home, nice and dry, with central heat blowing at 66 degrees. As I write this, I am wearing a jacket over my long-sleeved shirt. Put me in a nest on a tree limb with only feathers and snow to keep me warm and I tell ya, it wouldn't be pretty.

Dear Pigeon (Sorry, I don't know if you are a Ms. or a Mr.), I will be back to view the progress of your construction project and to see if you'll be growing a family there.

Why do I feel a certain dread that either weather or humans will undermine your efforts?

And why do you appear to be at peace with all of the future possible calamities that are, right now, only taking place in my mind?

Love,

Carol

Saying Yes

2012-01-29T18:12:00.000-07:00

I rarely let the word "No" escape
From my mouth

Because it is so plain to my soul

That God has shouted, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
To every luminous movement in Existence.

- Hafiz

She was young and fearful. A shy girl
who was afraid of dogs and snowmen,
people and lightning. When she was
thirty-one, her husband moved out. She
was jobless, timid, with two young children
to raise

- a boy and a girl. Sleeping on the couch so that
WHEN a big, hairy figure in a black
trenchcoat would happen to break in,
she would be the first victim - and hopefully
the last - that he would meet,

sparing the children. After the big, hairy figure
in the black trenchcoat never came;
when, somehow, she stopped hiding from
uncovered windows - portals for the
ugly faces of menacing men -

that is when the word Yes first formed
at the back of her tongue. A whisper
at first, foolishly done at times such as
when the wrong man wanted to be with
her, but the word grew into her and
now there are days when it swells in her heart

and out through her pores. Yes! Yes!
Yes! to life, to love, to what comes next.

Dog Smiles

2012-01-27T16:10:00.001-07:00

This made my day:

I'm So Glad That You Are Happy!

2012-01-24T14:55:00.000-07:00

Last night, right before I fell asleep, I read a little Hafiz from the book titled, I heard God Laughing. I fell asleep marveling at what I had just read. Something about telling a dog that I am so glad that it is happy to see me.

I was blown away.

Always, if some person or some animal is glad to see me, I think that it's about me. They are glad to see ME, the one, the only Carol of "A Peace Carol" fame, and I'm happy that they are glad to see ME, because it means they like ME. It has never entered my mind to just be happy that that person or waggy dog is happy! Nothing to do with me.

Oh, that's almost embarrassing to admit!

When I woke up in the middle of the night, I remembered what I had read and, whooooosh, blown away again.

And when my internal clock told me it was morning, even though the gray skies didn't demonstrate that through my closed blinds, there it was again... head blown in a million pieces!

I got up and went through the entire book, looking for the piece that had those magical words. Twice, I looked at every poem in the book, but I didn't find it.

I started to think that maybe I came up with that piece of brilliance all by myself. Maybe I was touched by a tremendous wisdom, full of possibilities, but had associated it with the book, since it was the last thing I read before going to bed.

This afternoon, I looked one more time and I found it - the last part of a poem on page 58. I, Carol of "A Peace Carol" fame was not a channel for that stunning new way of seeing things. I'm very much more than OK with that. It will be enough work just to be able to incorporate this new way of seeing into my life.

Hafiz,

Who can you tell in this world

That when a dog runs up to you

Wagging its ecstatic tail,

You lean down and whisper in its ear,

"Beloved,

I am so glad You are happy to see me.

Beloved,

I am so glad

So very glad You have come."

- Hafiz

Buddha dog, I am SO GLAD that you are happy to see me!

Right In Front Of Our Eyes!

2012-01-21T17:47:00.000-07:00

Three crows were yelling madly in the cottonwood tree as I headed outside to add shredded cardboard to our compost bin. I looked up to see the three black bird shapes perched at the very tip-top of the naked 5-story tall tree, then I went about my business of offering my gift to the decay and worms. As I put the cover onto the bin, the crows took off over my head and I saw the target of their ire: a hawk. Grouchy old birds were still nagging at that hawk while trailing him as he soared north.

And that got me to thinkin'...

You may know how much I love raptors. A day I see a hawk, eagle or owl, is an extremely good day for me. I am good at spotting them. Well, usually.

So how did I miss seeing this big, gorgeous bird who was sitting in a tree only a few yards from me???Because 1) I didn't expected it to be there (I've NEVER seen a hawk in a tree near our yard), and 2) I was only looking at the source of the irritating crow sounds.

And, my friends, that illustrates what's going on in this world. The politicians and media are yelling madly, claiming this and blaming that, while peace, reason and kindness are doing their thing and rarely being noticed.

Once again, I am reminded to let the noise and confusion waft wherever it wants to waft without hooking my attention so that I can see clearly the beauty and majesty which is right in front of my eyes. Always.

Clyde

2012-01-19T21:58:00.000-07:00

Mary and I make quite the pair. I guess she's always cried at the drop of a hat, but this leaky eye thing is pretty new to me. A dam or some armor or something has been taken away from me within the last year, and now the floods just flow. It's actually kind of sweet.

When I went for my second lesson with the handsome Clyde today, I knew that I had to bring this song along for Mary to hear:

I sat and listened to Mary's birds singing and talking about things I didn't understand while the song played in Mary's ears via the earbuds. I knew it would get to her and it did, sure enough!

Then we had a long discussion about life WHILE CLYDE PATIENTLY WAITED OUTSIDE! Well, he wasn't exactly waiting. Actually, he didn't even know I was there, and he was busy eating anything he could nibble out of the icy slush out back.

But Clyde is a love and he didn't mind it too much when I interrupted his snacking so we could play (at least he didn't tell me if he did mind).

Unfortunately, because Mary and I had spent so much time figuring out how the universe works, there wasn't enough horse time today. It all works out, though. I have to say that the best part of my lesson was rubbing Clyde's behind and up under the back side of his tail. That place feels weird! I didn't know! I've never been so, ummm, intimate with a horse (or very many other living beings) before.

Now that Clyde and I have played kissy face and I've rubbed his, ahem, cute hind end, I just don't know where this relationship will go. I'm beginning to get a little crazy over that handsome guy with the big, brown eyes.

I saw horses from my window,
They were watching all the cars go.
And they don't care that I am broken,
close my eyes and run beside them.

Through the valleys and the pastures,
and I know you'll never find me.
'Cause I'm already free.

- Dala

Freakin' Awesome!

2012-01-18T09:19:00.001-07:00

Somehow, I came upon a creative video of a DUDE talking about his new product. He actually learned how to knit and then he created the Freaker. As of now, these pieces of bottle clothing are made in some factory or something, but the company is still very human and fun.

I wanted one to dress my stainless steel water bottle in so that, while standing for peace on hot summer days, my water would stay all cool and comfy.

When I went to the site to purchase my very own Freaker, I was sorely disappointed to find that there were no Peace Sign Freakers. I mean SORELY, because only a peace sign would do. So I emailed a little suggestion to the company. I mean, wouldn't you think there would be a huge market for Peace Sign Freakers??? The response I got back from someone at the company, although very playful and loving, was still a bummer, because it indicated that there used to be Peace Sign Freakers, but that is no longer the case.

NO WONDER WE ARE STILL WAITING FOR PEACE ON EARTH!

Fortunately for me, a woman named Molly emailed me later that evening and told me that there were TWO Peace Sign Freakers remaining in Freakerville and they were on a desk waiting to come home to ME!

Oh, happy day!

From the Freaker website:

They aren’t selling a product, they’re giving you an invitation to their party; a starter kit for a new lifestyle. The Freaker isn’t a strike-at-the-wind attempt to get rich, it’s the background music to a never-ending journey. Infusing life into a drink sweater, the FreakerTeam of madcap facilitators want to make sure you know that you’re invited to join in the fun.

Go take a look at all of the Freaker designs (click on the word, Freaker, anywhere in this post), and if you have a water bottle or other beverage container in need of a little dressing up, support the partying by getting your very own Freaker.

Sorry I took the last of the peace signs, but I promise to bring Peace to as many places as I can.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 13

2012-01-15T11:35:00.000-07:00

Am I really going to end it on the number thirteen? None of this has been planned - if I had planned it, I would have had it end on twelve, a nice even, holy number. But I'm not the biggest planner. Ask Mr. CFP what reaction he gets when he suggests we "plan our day".

_____________

Friday morning. Today we all head back to base camp. If I had access to a good meal here, I would be more than happy to stay at least a few days longer. But I don't have any food, and people will come looking for me if I don't make it back to the group by mid-morning. Hmmmm... I wonder what that would be like! I pack my stuff. Then I pick up a rock from my prayer circle, spend a moment remembering the person I allowed to be represented by it, and I liberate it - throwing it out some place in the sand and sage. I do that for each rock in the circle until none are left. Then I thank the lovely spot for the time we've spent together.

As I walk back toward base camp, the mind begins its perverse game of,
"Is this really the day I'm supposed to go back? Maybe I counted the days wrong and I'm not supposed to go back until tomorrow."
"No, today is the day."
"How do you know?"

And for the second or third time today, I go over events that occurred every day and night during my solo, and I convince the crazy head ghosts that everything is cool. This is the day to head back.

Carrying my gear after three days of minimal calories, I get tired and breathless on my walk and I have to stop and rest. This experience is no different than the other times when I have fasted the three days of solo, so I feel smug in knowing that, even though I ate some food this time, I'm still suffering as much as if I didn't. Heh heh...

Once back at base camp, I enter through the rock circle that was also the portal for entering my solo. I'm greeted and blessed by the guides. And then... food. Lovely fruit and out-of-this-world hard-boiled eggs. Aaaahhhh... It's as though I am tasting these things for the first time.

During the rest of this day, and then again tomorrow morning, we will share our stories. I already feel changed by my experiences, but listening to the crack-your-heart-into-a-million-pieces stories that I hear from others, I am changed even more.

A quest in the desert offers each of us lessons in the way we need them most. It is not unique in this. Every moment brings us limitless opportunities to see ourselves, to understand, to open into more of who we are. It just seems that quest is an accelerated course, due to the structure, the excellent guidance from the guides, the earnest fellow travelers, and the time spent in Huge Desert Mama's lap.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Listen

2012-01-12T07:59:00.000-07:00

She has had these for sixty years. It is like a lightening storm. A discharge of built-up energy. After a period of more-than-usual stress, or sometimes maybe just for the hell of it, muscles or nerves in her head spasm with an almost skull-cracking ferocity, over and over for days.

Now that she is alone, her husband no longer able to soothe her with head rubs, she allows her daughter to massage, caress, and love her neck and noggin - an act that brings everything around full circle, from mother nurturing her young daughter to daughter now caring for elderly mother as she would her own child.

So sweet. So intimate.

With her mother's head in her hands, the daughter dances lightly among the hyper-alert muscles. As she would do with a an abused horse, she allows her hands to gently say hello, not lingering long in any one place, gaining trust as she shows that she means no harm. Listening with her hands and heart, she only comes close if there is permission. She asks the muscles, as she would ask the horse, "What do you want to tell me?" Then she listens for the answer.

Yes, she mostly listens. Because everything: horses, muscles, birds, the earth, our lovers... all of life needs our listening.

This is what she hears: ancient wounds, stored in tight fibers, which caused a mother to try to control the uncontrollable in her son and daughter; the inner pain that would cause a parent to tear off her teen-aged daughter's clothes in front of out-of-town guests; the unvisited scars that could motivate a woman to make public scenes about her daughter's eating, resulting in the daughter diving into eating disorders.

And tears of healing run down the daughter's face and into her heart.

2012-01-08T13:47:00.002-07:00

Sometimes (most of the time), I have stories in my head about how things should be and why I can't do things differently. Once in a while, I decide to challenge those stories and I'm happily surprised to see that things only get better.

Like the idea I've held for about 20 years that I needed to part my hair on the right - the side where my gargantuan cowlick is. Ever since I quit parting my hair down the middle, it's been parted on the right.

Different hairdressers have tried to get me to part it on the left. But I knew it wouldn't work -I would be trying to have hair lie down over that big bump of cowlick - so I didn't try.

For some strange reason, when Awesome Emily the Hairwhiz recently suggested it once again, the words, "Why not?" rolled out of my mouth as easily as the "F" word rolls out of Robin Williams.

Now I part my hair on the left and I love it!

I could have done this years ago.

Let's see now, what else can I change..

Democratic Womanism

2012-01-06T11:00:00.000-07:00

This is what got me excited on Wednesday: Alice Walker's poem titled, Democratic Womanism. An excerpt is pasted below, but you can read the whole thing by clicking here.

Democratic Womanism

Copyright©2012 by Alice Walker

You ask me why I smile

when you tell me you intend

in the coming national elections

to hold your nose

and vote for the lesser of two evils.

There are more than two evils out there,

is one reason I smile.

Another is that our old buddy Nostradamus

comes to mind, with his dreadful

400 year old prophecy: that our world

and theirs too

(our “enemies” – lots of kids included here)

will end (by nuclear nekba or holocaust)

in our lifetime. Which makes the idea of elections

and the billions of dollars wasted on them

somewhat fatuous.

A Southerner of Color,

my people held the vote

very dear

while others, for centuries,

merely appeared to play

with it.

One thing I can assure

you of is this:

I will never betray such pure hearts

by voting for evil

even if it were microscopic

which, as you can see in any newscast

no matter the slant,

it is not.

I want something else;

a different system

entirely.

One not seen

on this earth

for thousands of years. If ever.

Democratic Womanism.

Notice how this word has “man” right in the middle of it?

That’s one reason I like it. He is there, front and center. But he is surrounded.

I want to vote and work for a way of life

that honors the feminine;

a way that acknowledges

the theft of the wisdom

female and dark Mother leadership

might have provided our spaceship

all along.

Colorado Skies

2012-01-05T15:30:00.000-07:00

Blew a fuse in the kitchen yesterday evening. I plugged in the space heater, then saw the sunset outside my window and had to run to get the camera to record it. Can't run the toaster oven and the space heater at the same time in the same outlet. I knew that, but the mind dumped all thoughts other than "Wow!" when the eyes saw the skies.

Many people refuse to live where electrical wires show themselves. Like the scar on my belly, we've got to hide the things that remind us of imperfection.

Speaking of belly scars, the only swimsuit I own - the one that I last wore... hmmmmm... it's been a couple of years... Anyway, it doesn't cover my middle. I haven't put it on, but I'm guessing that it actually highlights the scar that now runs vertically next to my belly button. I'll be taking it (the swimsuit - oh, and the scar, too) to Bequia with me in a couple of months. Do I hide my perfect imperfection with a t-shirt? Or do I let it naturally show itself and celebrate the fact that I'm alive and healthy, thanks to this beautiful scar?

Can't Hear You!!!

2012-01-04T13:04:00.005-07:00

As you may or may not have noticed, I have turned off the ability to comment on this blog.

It's not because I don't enjoy hearing from my multitudes of readers. I love you guys!

I will still be blogging here and traveling around to visit your blogs there. And if you would like to, you can still contact me through my email address or on my web form (see upper right-hand corner of this page).

This kind of feels like the day when we got rid of our land line and resorted to only using our cellphones. I was attached to that old phone number. It had been mine for many years. I almost felt like Tom Hanks in Castaway, all alone out on some island. How would I know that anyone loved me??? Oh, the silence of it all!

Speaking of Castaway, I really liked that movie. May have to see it again.

And speaking of movies, did I tell you that we saw Hugo 3D? It was so much fun! I went to it as a reluctant participant, only going along because our friends had suggested it and I thought, "What the heck?" The 3D was exquisite and the detail pulled me in until I forgot that I existed. I highly recommend it, even though it's very expensive (I think) for a movie. $14 per adult! That's more than many people make in an hour! That's more than the net pay after two hours of work for a huge number of people!

Well, back to the subject at hand... I'm not going away. I just want to see what it's like to write without my internal editor, if that's possible.

Mwah!

Dancing With Horses

2012-01-02T21:14:00.000-07:00

Mary says they are a mirror of us. I experienced that a little today when I spent a couple of hours with her and her horses. I saw my qualities of gentleness, intuition, and acceptance - two things I usually forget to give myself much credit for. I also got to see when I wasn't clear about what I wanted. Ahhhh... that's familiar.

I haven't been around horses much in my life. And, to be honest, I've always been a little scared of those creatures, even as I found them to be beautiful enough to melt my heart. I remember my brother's friend when I was a kid. He had a scar on his back, and the story was that it was the result of a sneaky horse taking a chomp. That provided a good reason to be afraid. Other reasons include, but are not limited to, the fact that horses are massive, they can get spooked, and they have really hard hooves.

I rest my case.

So, when Mary left us to go check on the plumber working inside only moments after Clyde and I were introduced, I was feeling a little uncomfortable - I know that one unexpected move by Clyde and I would have jumped the 8-foot fence surrounding us without even knowing how - but I was also drawn into the beauty of Clyde's eyes and the warmth of his sun-kissed shoulders. Clyde allowed me to explore his neck and shoulder muscles and to also soak up some of the extra solar heat he had absorbed.

After Mary came back out, I learned about putting on a halter. Then she taught me about using my energy to move a horse. Oh my God! Is this some kind of secret that I have been missing out on all my life? Mary and Clyde danced like lovers. And then I gave it a try. Clyde and I were more like two good-intentioned beginners. But dance did happen. It is friggin' magic!

By the end of our time together, Clyde and I were playing kissie face and I wanted to bring him home with me. This mirror that Mary was talking about... Love was being reflected all over the place.

I can hardly wait to go back for more of that!

Me and a different horse. He was a stranger I met outside of Glacier National Park.

(I guess I'm a horse flirt.)

Wildnerness Quest 2011 - Part 12

2012-01-01T11:12:00.000-07:00

The Wedding

It was the last day of my solo. Three days of (mostly) being alone in the desert. I didn't know that this quest would be so filled with my dad's presence. I had intended to "just be" with the moment, the sun, the sand, and anything else that appeared. When I had set my intention, I didn't know that it would mean "just being" with my dad.

At this point, I had done a life review in which I realized how focused on myeslf I had been while growing up - passing up the opportunity to also be aware of the experiences of my parents. On the second day of my solo, I had written an obituary for my dad, and I had midwifed him into death. Earlier on this third day, I had taken a long walk with Dad, and we learned a lot about each other.

Now it was time for the funeral. But it wasn't a funeral. It was a stunningly poignant wedding.

In preparation, I washed my hair for the first time in five days and I applied lavender lotion to my skin. I gathered sage, putting a bunch in my breast pocket - as close to a corsage as I could get. I tore pieces of sage into bits and stowed them in my pocket for distributing along the aisle as many people do with church weddings.

The wedding was held in the wash that ran along my camp.

Here is what I wrote after the event:

Dear Diary,

I just returned from my dad's wedding. It was beautiful.

I walked up the aisle, dropping bits of sage while John Denver's song, The Eagle and the Hawk, floated through the air. I stood with my dad as he awaited his bride (Death). He was so handsome in his suit - he looked as he did when he was about 30. The bride was gorgeous with a long, flowing white dress and beautiful, golden hair. The minister told my dad there are no rules, no "sickness and health". Only Freedom, Oneness, Wholeness, Eternity. The minister asked the bride if she would take my dad to Freedom, Oneness and No More Sickness.

As they went back down the aisle together, I yelled, "Goodbye!" to Dad, knowing that I won't see him again, yet I see him everywhere. I went to the canyon edge and threw sage at the bride and groom as they became the blue sky.

"Goodbye, Daddy. I love you. You were a good daddy."

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

Love the 1%

2011-12-29T08:30:00.000-07:00

Hard to do? Maybe. Worth doing? Yes!

The Best Feeling in the World

2011-12-28T08:26:00.000-07:00

All it takes is a hike to part the gray clouds and get the creative juices going. I can't say that I wish I would have hiked sooner, because a lot of good churning was going on under those gray clouds. It was all perfect.

Anyway, I offer my take on...

The Best Feeling in the World

It is this:

The moments when all definitions of myself,
judgments of rightness or wrongness,
any ideas of being separate,
and any awareness of time
fall away
and Life, pure, raw and instinctual
is free to take over.

Sometimes it looks like this:

Swimming naked in the ocean
that resides within the eyes of another.

or

Dancing with a red-tailed hawk
as he circles the sky.

or

Cresting a hill and feeling my heart opening up
like the field of snow-covered grasses below.

or

Playing with velvety ears of
love disguised as my best canine friend

or

Riding wild and furious class IV rapids
of orgasm until they again become a lazy river.

The State of the Mind

2011-12-27T09:12:00.000-07:00

Christmas morning was gray for me, even though the sun lit up a cloudless robin egg sky.

Sometimes this head just gets possessed with a heaviness that I can only be with and observe until lightness finds its way.

Like flying through cloud-filled skies and coming out into the clarity and light that was always there, just not seen.

Dad was more alive on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day than he has been in weeks. What a beautiful Christmas present for my mom.

And our good friend's mom died yesterday, the day after Christmas. What a beautiful Christmas present for her. She had been working her way out of this cocoon for a long time.

Another friend and I write about a different topic each month and then share our writings with each other. I am now assigned the task of writing about "the best feeling in the world".

Contemplating "the best feeling", I have begun to see some thinning of the clouds here and there, even though any memories of luscious feelings seem so far away, like a movie I barely remember.

The mind...

"Best feelings" are always right here, right now, as available as the next breath, yet sometimes brain settings can get altered giving a "heavy feelings" error message.

As I did with my recovery after surgery, I'm staying with the experience of the moment. So tired of trying to "fix" whatever comes my way. Half of the discomfort comes from wanting things to be different.

We're on our way to a snowy hike among the wildlife - one of the best feelings in the world.

2011-12-24T09:39:00.002-07:00

Where is the door to God?

In the sound of a barking dog,

In the ring of a hammer,

In a drop of rain,

In the face of

Everyone

I see.

- Hafiz

Joyful Solstice

Merry Christmas

Happy Hanukkah

Ineffable Mysteries

Love

Carol

All It Takes Is A Little Transformation

2011-12-22T09:17:00.000-07:00

I hadn't hung up Buddha's Christmas stocking this year. The photo on my banner was from some other Christmas - a Christmastime past when our 4-legged friend was here to enjoy the rawhide chew that he found snuggled into his dog-paw stocking. The truth is, this year, when I pulled out the box of Christmas decorations and saw Buddha's stocking, I just felt a wave of "missing him": and I put the stocking back in the box. No need for that any more. I couldn't throw it away yet, but I found no reason to hang it up.

Yesterday, as I looked at the photo of the red dog-paw-shaped stocking with the gold "Buddha" on it, I realized that I had options as to how I saw it. So I went to the box, took out the stocking, and hung it on our kinda somewhat of a mantle, which is really one of two horizontal stones embedded in the brick wall of our fireplace.

I don't claim to be Buddhist, but 15 years ago, I did name that sweet 9 month-old pup "Buddha" because of the qualities associated with The Buddha. Those qualities are ever present, with or without my big, black dog.

The stocking that used to belong to the best-dog-in-the-world now belongs to the qualities of compassion, loving-kindness, huge-heartedness, peace, light and the laying down of suffering. Well, I guess it always did belong to those qualities, but I can be a slow seer...

And the stocking is slowly getting stuffed with little pieces of paper on which I am writing my gifts and wishes to the Buddha Qualities, because I have a deep longing to realize those qualities within myself and everyone else.

It feels much better to open my heart to the Buddha than it does to close it in grief, hiding the reminder of the dog and essence I love so much.

This may sound blasphemous to some during this time of celebrating the birth of a different great teacher who also came to bring light and love. My apologies if that's so. In this strange and divisive time in our world, I enjoy whatever path - religious or not - that brings more love into this world that calls out so loudly for it.

The Unquittable

2011-12-20T11:27:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning and thought, "I'm just done with this." Meaning this situation with my dad. It's been a hard year.

I remember when I was in labor with my daughter and a time arose where I just wanted to yell, "Stop the presses!" Or something like that. "Can we quit now?" But there was no quitting (thank God) and there is no quitting now. Labor - whether it's about being born into this life or being born into whatever is next - moves in its own sweet time. And I do mean sweet. Because it really is all perfect. My dad must be doing some important work during this time of drawing in.

And after my early morning feeble attempts at quitting something that is unquittable (can't find that word in the dictionary, but it's definitely Googlable and I like it), Mr. CFP told me about his dream last night where our wonderful Buddha dog came to visit him. And I find that I miss Buddha so much. A part of me wants to yell, "Stop the presses! Can we just go back to a time when I could kiss my Buddha's sweet cheek and smell his doggy paws???" But missing... it's perfect, too. Like labor, the grief moves in its own sweet time.

I'm definitely experiencing some sadness today, but feelings are like a big pot of vegetable soup. Within the broth of complete fine-ness, there is a little sadness, a bunch of wonder at the beauty of the white snow outside my window, a pinch of curiosity about what is next, and some chopped up motivation to get some stuff done around here today. Oh, and big hunks of gratitude for this amazing life and the beautiful people in it.

I just can't quit any of it. And that's okay.

They Did It!

2011-12-18T15:40:00.001-07:00

Mr. CFP and I took my dad's blanket to him yesterday.

Today, Mom went to see Dad at lunchtime and guess what!!!

It's gone already! He had it less than twenty-four hours.

Someone is enjoying a blanket that is named for my dad.

Or else my gift is in some black hole.

I sure would love to visit a black hole sometime. Those holes must contain an amazing amount of stuff.

At this point, the staff doesn't know where it is. Maybe it will magically show up.

My mom is mad. I'm laughing. I would have never guessed the staff could do such a bang-up job of losing that blanket so fast.

If it's found, I'm going to have to take bets on how long Dad will have it before it's lost again.

December 19th Update:

This morning, Mom found the blanket wadded up in some corner of the TV room. Dad would be incapable of dumping the blanket anywhere, so my mind makes up all kinds of stories about who, why, and how... They're not useful stories, but they're highly entertaining!

To Snuggle With My Dad

2011-12-15T12:03:00.003-07:00

What do I give my dad - a man who has all of his needs met, except for good health and an agile mind?

As I sat with my dad while he slept, and I felt the rough, crocheted blanket on which he rested his hands, I thought of an idea. Why not give my dad the world's softest blanket? And the answer came: Because things in this nursing facility can magically disappear. But then I came up with a solution: Put Dad's name on the blanket in letters so big that no one else would want it. And while I'm writing on the blanket, add some love.

I bought a blanket, but when I took it out of the packaging, I saw that it would be too big. So, I cut it in half, hemmed it up, and now I have two blankets - one for Dad and one for me. And when I find I want to be closer to my daddy, I can snuggle up with him via his blanket's twin.

It's not pretty, but it is the world's softest blanket. And it reeks with LOVE!

(Last name blurred out in this photo in order to protect the innocent.)

I Wanna Wish You A Merry Christmas

2011-12-15T06:48:00.001-07:00

Thanks to F oam, I now know that the "embed" code for the Playing For Change video I tried to post doesn't work, so here's a link (in case you're interested). Thanks, Foam! Trying to fix this, I got the opportunity to boogie to the song again.

How can this not produce the biggest smile? Musicians from all over the world coming together and singing from the bottom of their hearts.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 11

2011-12-11T13:00:00.000-07:00

Day Three

After my first night's visit from Little Mouse, I got wise and put any foodstuff I may have into a bag, which I then hung from a vertical rope that was tied in the middle of a horizontal rope. The only way any little critters would be able to get to it would be by tightrope walking. Ha! Outwitted them!

But even with no food on the ground cloth next to me, Little Mouse came for a visit during my second night out. Before falling asleep, I heard his tiny footsteps on the plastic of my ground cloth. But, just like with his first visit, when I switched on my headlamp and turned to look, he was already gone. I can imagine that you are thinking, "Carol, are you sure you're not just hearing things???" Well, I don't think so. But maybe. Read further and you be the judge of whether or not the desert, combined with lack of calories and lack of human interaction got to my brain or not.

I really wanted to see Little Mouse so, barely breathing, I waited, headlamp at the ready, in case my invisible friend might return. But once again, sleep overcame me and I will never know whether my friend stayed away or if he brought his friends and family to party all around me as I snored the night away.

After my morning rituals, prayers, etc., I made smudge sticks from sage that I had picked the day before. On this morning, when I visited the buddy circle, I put two of the smudge sticks into the buddy circle as gifts for my buddies, then I headed out on a long walk with my dad.

We headed east on a road for 4 wheel drive vehicles. At one point, the road was nearly vertical. Then we were on top of the world. We could see for miles and miles (isn't there a song about this? WHO can see for miles and miles?) We saw shadowy canyons way out in the distance, and I would have loved to have walked to them, but we never even got close.

I don't know how long it had been since anyone had been on this road. Did anyone ever walk it? Or do people only see this land from the inside of a Jeep? There were no footprints at all.

As we walked under clear skies and with absolutely no evidence to prove that we were not the only people on earth, Dad and I talked about our lives and about how my years in the cult affected him, the family, and me. This was the first time this elephant had ever been acknowledged. We talked of hard things and of sweet memories. You may not have seen nor heard my dad as he and I walked and talked, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen. And it was very healing for me - I hope it was for him, too.

Because it was springtime, desert flowers bloomed in various areas. Most likely, Dad and I would be the only people to ever set eyes on the little bush covered with tiny yellow blooms and the white flowers which looked like they were made of crepe paper. Think of all of the flowers that bloom without ever being seen and of all the birds that sing without being heard.

And all of the conversations that never happen because someone is too scared.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Overwhelmed With Joy

2011-12-09T10:00:00.000-07:00

I have received one Christmas card so far this year and it's the best card I have ever received. On the front, a photo of a dog that looks an awful lot like my boyfriend. And inside, this message: "May you be overwhelmed with joy this holiday season."

Overwhelmed With Joy!

Yes!

May everyone be overwhelmed with joy!

No matter what their circumstances.

Photo from the wrong season, considering Christmas is now only 17 (yikes!) days away and considering that everything is white outside right now (in Colorado, anyway). But joy is joy at all times of the year!

Wllderness Quest 2011 - Part 10

2011-12-08T10:30:00.000-07:00

Can I Call This A Solo If I'm Not Alone?

Background

We questers are only responsible for one thing while out in the desert on our own: to report in to our buddy circle once a day, and if our buddy has not reported in, to try to find out if he/she is okay.

Before we set out on the first day of our solo, we find out which other quester has a solo spot nearest our own. That person will be our buddy. Because of how the various solo locations were situated, I ended up with two buddies. I love that!

The buddies are to find a spot where they will then make a circle, usually out of stones. In a three buddy system, one of us is the morning buddy (me), one is the afternoon buddy and one is the evening buddy. Every morning, I would walk to the buddy circle, take out the rock left there by the evening person, and put in my rock.

Worst case scenario, if I were to put my rock in at 8:00 a.m., then promptly fall off of a cliff, someone would begin to worry about me somewhere between 30 and 32 hours later.

Comforting, huh?

What happened

Happily eating my "dinner" of nuts and dried fruit, enjoying the beautiful, peaceful evening on my second day of solitude, I turned my head to see Karen, one of my buddies, walking toward me. Strange. But I instinctively waved. Honoring the space I was in during this sacred solo, instead of talking with me, she presented me with a note that said our other buddy hadn't gone to the buddy circle that day and Karen didn't know where his solo spot was located.

Shit! Here is what the mind does in these types of circumstances (and I'm sure you know this well): "He may have fallen off a cliff! I bet he just forgot to go to the circle. He could be injured and he's been lying somewhere for hours. Nah... I'm sure he forgot. But what if he didn't forget and he needs help? If we have to round up a search party, we don't have many hours until dark."

Karen and I set out to Joe's solo spot - a perch high on a cliff. Joe is very tall. I'm not. I tried, but I couldn't climb up to his spot. But I could throw rocks up there, and nothing signaled sign of life. What to do?

We wrote a note and posted it on a dead little plant at the bottom of the cliff. "We are worried about you because you didn't go to the buddy circle today. If you don't come to find Carol at her solo spot by 7 p.m., we will come back to see if you have returned. If not, we'll head up to base camp."

Oh, man. I had to dig through my pack for my watch. I DO NOT DO TIME ON A SOLO! But I did do time on this solo. At 7:00, I found Karen and we went back to the cliff. The note was still there. We headed up to base camp. Worry. Know he forgot. Worry. Know he forgot.

We were almost to base camp when Joe ran up to us. Hallelujah! Whoo hooo! He's okay. Tears.

We all walked back together. Very few words, since *ahem* this was a time of solitude and silence (unless we chose to talk with little 4-leggeds or the stars or the winds). The few words uttered were mostly made of "I'm sorry. I spaced it."

And for the first time in my life, I realized how okay everything is even when someone appears to cause an unnecessary inconvenience. No need for apologies (even though they are sweet to hear). No one did anything to me. My solo presented this awesome opportunity to just love. Things happen. Sometimes we forget. Sometimes we give up our valued alone time because we care about each other. I felt so much compassion for our human-ness. It's all perfectly beautiful.

Whatever appears during a solo is a teacher (true all of the time, but we are sometimes more profoundly aware when we've slowed down this much). One of my best teachings while I was alone came through not being alone.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

Not Even Hanging By A Rope

2011-12-05T17:25:00.001-07:00

I was all alone in the elevator (or "lift" for you people in the U.K.). I'm not sure what I was thinking when I put the rope through the doors. I think I wanted to kind of bookmark the floor that I had come from Everything worked well for a while.

I rode up and down a few floors before I realized that things were wonky and it was because of my rope. It had messed up the mechanisms that run the elevator. Luckily I got the rope all pulled back into the elevator car. Unluckily, it was too late.

Suddenly, the car turned sideways. The doors on the elevator were now my floor and I was going down FAST. As in a barely-controlled fall. I remember saying out loud, "I'm going to die!".

Fortunately, I noticed some ledges on the outer wall. I jumped onto the next one that I came to. Whew! Safe!

People helped me out of the elevator. I didn't want them to know that I had caused the problem. Me and my damn rope. I knew that the repair bill on that elevator would be A LOT! So I just acted as if I was so lucky to have escaped that death trap.

But wait! There was evidence! A video from inside the elevator showed the weapon of elevator destruction: My rope!

The last I knew, it was going to take a year of investigation in order to get to the bottom of this crime.

A year from now, if I disappear from Blogland, will you come visit me in prison?

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 9

2011-12-03T07:30:00.000-07:00

Second day of solo continued...

It all began while I was taking my first "bath" since entering the desert. Let's see. I'd been in the desert for five days by then. With no bath. Just a little spritzing around the face and feet. (So THAT'S what I was smelling!) Yeah, it was about time.

I had stood out by my luxurious restroom, taken my shirt off, hung it on a juniper branch, and washed my pits, when I realized that washing other parts would necessitate the removal of boots, socks, pants. This is best done while sitting down and in a place where, once each foot was clean, it wouldn't have to be placed back on dirt. So after putting my shirt back on, I crawled under my tarp. There, I was shaded from the sun and I was on the somewhat clean surface of my groundcloth.

Washing my nekkid lower half, I noticed movement out of the corner of my eye. Now this tarp set-up... it isn't a tent. I mean, a helicopter flying overhead would not see me, but someone walking by could certainly see in. And there those someones were. The two quest leaders walked within, oh, about 30 feet of my tarp, and from what I could tell, they never once looked my way. I was certain that they had to have seen me in my half-dressed state, but later on when I asked about it, they denied ever knowing that me and my tarp were ever there.

Maybe these intentions to be invisible really work!

But hold on a minute. No, they don't. Later in the day while I was eating my nuts and dried fruit, ANOTHER two-legged approached me. It was beautiful to see her smiling face. But I started to wonder...

Had I forgotten to put up my Do Not Disturb, Solo in Session sign?

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Give Me Wings To Fly

2011-12-01T15:05:00.001-07:00

I LOVE watching this video of an owl in slow motion!

Such beauty and grace. Each feather moves precisely to allow him to fly with ease.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 8

2011-11-29T13:30:00.000-07:00

After the life review where I visited each five-year segment of my life, things just started to flow out of me. I could blame the strange yet beautiful events that occurred on my lack of caloric intake, or maybe on the desert heat - things had heated up since our arrival. Maybe my actions were caused by a lack of interaction with my own species. Most likely, it was all due to my willingness to let happen what needed to happen.

So, with no warning, a series of events regarding my grief about my dad unfolded.

First, this eulogy/obit came out on paper:

John __, my dad, was raised as one of seven boys by Robert ____, apoor farmer, and Mary ____, a schoolteacher. He and his family livedthrough the depression and dust bowl years in Kansas, Oklahoma and Arkansas.The story I heard was that Robert, my grandfather, was constantly looking forgreener grass at time when there was no such thing, thus the constant uprootingand poverty.

Dad joined the navy in World War II and was a radio technician on thesubmarine, Cero. He traveled the South Pacific - New Guinea andAustralia.

After the war, Dad met Cleo ___. They married and started atelevision/radio sales and service shop in a Kansas town of about 40,000people.

Four years after their marriage, their darling daughter was born. :-) Two years later, they were blessed with a son.

Dad worked long, hard hours at the shop. Mom helped with the officework, and my brother and I spent a good amount of our days at there watchingtelevision or entertaining ourselves in other ways, most of which didn't causetoo much damage.

In 1968, our family moved to Colorado. When we first arrived, Dad wentdoor to door to motels and hotels to see if they needed a television repairperson. From that initial investment, he drummed up a nice-sized clientele.

Our family took two unforgettable vacations while I was growing up. Inthe mid-sixties we drove to New York, Canada, D.C., and Nantucket. Later,in the early seventies, we drove west to the San Francisco area. Inaddition to those great adventures, we also traveled to Colorado a few times,staying at my great-aunt's mountain cabin.

Dad was a good man. Kind. Patient. I was not an easy childfor him much of the time and I don't think that I ever thanked him for workingso hard so that I could have all that I needed. I don't think I thankedhim for those vacations or for the times he worried about me. I hope Imade up for it somewhat by growing up into a good person and raising two greatkids. I hope I took on his kindness and patience as a base to growfrom.

Thank you, Dad, for all you did for me. Thank you for the numerous thingsyou fixed for me, for calming me when I worried. I will miss you. And remember the line you told me so many times when I would get worked upabout something - a line you attributed to some man in the navy with you: "It don't make no difference no how."

Dad, you made a difference.

My dad and mom, photo taken September 26, 2008

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

My Father's Prayer

2011-11-27T20:55:00.001-07:00

I have read that cats can sleep as much as 20 hours a day. At this point of my dad's life, he does that, too.

When Mr. CFP and I arrived at the nursing home today, Dad had just awakened from a nap. As I wheeled him out of his room, he repeated over and over, to no one in particular, "Thank you. Thank you." I don't know what he was being thankful for, and I don't know who he was thanking.

But it was beautiful and it brought to mind this quote:

If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough. - Meister Eckhart

Dad was awake for about an hour before he slipped back into the quiet place where he spends most of his time.

My dad... still teaching me. Thank you. Thank you.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 7

2011-11-26T09:00:00.000-07:00

The desert began working its magic. No, that's wrong. The desert magic is always working. I was finally able to be aware of the magic taking place within me and around me.

Before we went our separate ways for our solo time, and as we were learning about different rituals which could help to deepen our quest experience, one fellow quester shared a ritual that he thought was useful. The idea resonated with me, and that was one of the first things I did on my second day of solo time.

A wash (kind of like a dry creek bed) bordered my solo area. In the wash, I placed a stick every five feet until I had enough five-foot-long sections to represent each of the five years of my life (let's see now, if I'm getting close to 100 years old, I need almost 20 sticks...) ;-)

I sat next to the area that represented the first five years of my life, and I visited with it, remembering stories I had heard about my birth. (I was born with black hair and since there is no black hair in our family, my mom thought she was given the wrong baby. It took a few months before I became a blondie.) As I sat on the dirt in the wash, I conversed with my parents about what it was like to have their first child, about my dad's work, and about the appearance of my baby brother who cried incessantly, due to colic or something painful with his stomach.

After I felt complete with that era of my life, I moved on to ages five through ten. On and on I went, listening to the stories of my life, trying to connect with my experiences and the experiences my parents were having at the time.

And when I was done, I realized just how self-absorbed I had been for much of my life. I knew very little about what my parents were doing, feeling, and thinking through many of my years. That was profound for me, and I knew that not only could I not go back and do things differently, but with my dad's dementia now, I wouldn't be able to ask him about his life.

The realization wasn't a catalyst for beating myself up, but a piece of the mosaic of my life.

I sat with that a while, then gratitude for my parents and for all that they did for me rolled out of me like the waters that flood the washes in spring.

A little while later, I wrote a eulogy for my dad.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

The Aftermath

2011-11-24T17:47:00.001-07:00

If you live in the U.S., I hope that you had a magical Thanksgiving holiday today. And if you don't live in the U.S., I hope your day was magical, too. Each moment of every day is so full of life, beauty and vibrancy, I can't figure out why we need a special day to remember gratitude, but I guess it always helps to have a little boost.

Thanksgiving dinner was here at the PeaceCarol house today. Master Chef Carol, along with her trusty assistant, Mr. CFP, whipped up the huge spread. Family came by, and we ate together.

Cooking and pre-dinner cleaning time: 10 hours.
Narshing it down time: about an hour.
Post-dinner cleaning: still in process.

After making three kinds of potatoes - mashed, steamed, and sweet... After making three desserts... After making what smelled like scrumptious stuffing, of whose flavors I could not partake... My Thanksgiving resolution (why wait until New Year's?) is:

From now on, when Chef Carol makes the Thanksgiving meal, she's not going to try to satisfy the world. If she can't taste test it, it won't be made. That means all dishes will be dairy-free, sugar-free, and gluten-free. Trust me, no one will miss those things. I've got gluten-free/sugar-free/dairy-free down!

Whew! What a relief! Glad we got that out in the open!

Even though I miss my Buddha dog, profoundly noticing his absence when it was table scrap sharing time, I am getting some kitty-lovin' in while house-sitting a HUGE,white Main Coon kitty who sports the polydactylism that is common of the breed.

And, because of a lack of doggage in our yard, foxes are no longer avoiding us. Today I looked out to see one napping in our backyard. So darn cute!

I am thankful for CRITTERS!

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 6

2011-11-19T20:54:00.001-07:00

Just as I was dozing off for the night, I heard it.

The sound was distinct and I instantly recognized it. I don't know why I recognized it - I can't name a time when I had heard that sound before. But I had no doubt about what it was.

I quickly turned on my headlamp and rolled over to look.

He was gone. It was as though he vaporized.

But I had evidence.

Like a madwoman, I hid the aim of his desire. I threw it into my day pack, and then threw that into my backpack. He would have to be pretty darn motivated to work that hard!

After I had made my statement, "Don't mess with my stuff!" I waited, barely breathing, headlamp at the ready. Would he come back? I wanted to see the little varmint.

Thoughts came: What was I thinking - or not thinking - when I left that container here on the ground next to me? I could just throw its contents out into the night somewhere and let the little fella have at them. The container only held an apple core and small remnants sweet potato.

But visions of hordes of hungry mice-like 4-leggeds greedily converging so close to my space in order to feast nixed that idea.

It wasn't long before sleep overcame me. I guess that I am no match for scorpions or tiny-toothed creatures.

We had always carefully stowed away all food at base camp so that no critters would get to the food, but having never seen any moochers in all my times in the desert, I never believed they really existed.

Then I saw his toothmarks. Now I'm a believer. Yeah yeah yeah yeah...

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4 5

Today

2011-11-19T17:07:00.001-07:00

I stood with my sign - one of my favorites -

"Imagine Peace on Earth"

A man walks by.

"We'll have it when the military kills people like Gaddafi."

Okay.

Back to homeostasis...

A few minutes later,

Still standing with my sign - still one of my favorites -

"Imagine Peace on Earth"

A man walks up to me, stands in front of me and my sign.

"Imagine peace on earth. I have been dreaming of it ever since I served in Vietnam."

We Women in Black stay in silence when we stand,

So as the man seated himself on the bus bench,

I walked over to him, touched my heart, and bowed to him.

And cried on my way back to my place in the vigil.

In love With Solid Ground

2011-11-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

This poem seemed to fit nicely alongside my wilderness quest posts.

The Opening of Eyes

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read. It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things
seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years
of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.
-- David Whyte
from Songs for Coming Home

Midwifing My Dad

2011-11-16T17:17:00.001-07:00

Yesterday, the voice said, "Carol, go sit with your dad tomorrow. Go before your mom gets there."

I listened and this morning, I went. I sat and breathed with Dad. He was resting, but his breath was labored. We breathed together:

Opening, letting go of attachments - to this body and to identification. Letting go of the identification of being a dad, a husband, someone who "does".

Bringing in open-ness, light, freedom

Opening, letting go of all attachments, all pain

Bringing in peace and ease, going to be with mother and father and brothers who have gone before.

Over time, his breath softened, became easier. Sometimes I could barely tell he was breathing.

And as I breathed with my dad, midwifing him into his next step, I realized that it was not just him opening to letting go of attachments and bringing in light, peace & ease, it was DadCarolEverything. There was only this one beautiful moment of peace and alrightness. No one healthy and helping, no one sick and in death's labor. Just one thing.

Some people call that one thing Love. It can also be called Wonder. Awe.

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 5

2011-11-15T08:30:00.000-07:00

It is highly recommended that questers fast during their 84 hours of solo time. Only water is taken. There sure are a lot of hours in a day when you're alone and you can't even distract yourself with the preparation, eating, and cleaning up that meals require!

I fasted during my previous two quests, but before I left for Utah this time, a couple of different health practitioners had recommended that I not fast, suggesting that I take along some snacks for sustenance during my solo time. That seemed right. I didn't have any extra energy or weight to be giving up. And the advice turned out to be very prescient, since unbeknownst to anyone at that time, just one month later, I would be fasting for six days while recovering from gut surgery.

Ahhhh... life is such a trip!

My first day in my temporary home included housekeeping chores - setting up my tarp, creating an outhouse (you'll just have to wonder...), and setting up a prayer circle. As I usually do, I made a circle with different colored rocks that I found. Each rock represented either another quester or someone from back home who I wanted to remember. Every morning and every evening, I talked to each rock (the desert sun will do that to ya) and wished all good things for the person represented by that particular stone. I sent supportive energy to each quester, seeing him or her actualizing the word that he/she expressed before we headed our separate ways.

Even though I was alone, I always felt a connection with the other questers - knowing they were out there alone like me. I truly felt no separation with all of life. Things are quite simple while sitting alone in the desert and the interconnection is very apparent.

Besides setting up the Barrow Homestead, I unexpectedly napped in the strangest position, draped over my rolled-up sleeping bag. And I took stock of the flower garden that surrounded my home.

If you walked through my homestead as a means of getting somewhere else, you might not have noticed that almost every step would land you on the tiniest, most delicate flowers of yellow, white, pink or purple. At first look, it appeared that all was sand, except for a few pieces of greenery. But I sat A LOT and the more I sat, the more teeny tiny flowers I saw, all snuggled down close to the red dirt. I could never have created such an immense and varied flower garden myself, but here I was, living in abundant, colorful finery.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3 4

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 4

2011-11-14T08:00:00.000-07:00

Awareness.

That is the word that I wanted to embody during my solo time in the desert. I wanted to be completely present to everything. In the moment. Alive. One with the land and my feelings and my body's messages and, well, everything.

That's a big order! But I knew no reason to limit the possibilities.

Before leaving for our solo time, we stood around the circle of rocks you see below, and we each said our word, giving voice to our intention. Then, one by one, we walked into the middle of the circle and received blessings from the guides.

May this woman be safe. May she recognize that she is one with all life. I wish I could have had a recording of all the sweet words that the guides said to me, words that gave me the strength and courage to carry me through the next three days.

But I guess the words don't matter. They did their job.

As I walked out of the circle, heading out to the place I had selected for my solo, I felt very alone, but I also had a sense of exhilaration. The sandstone and junipers seemed very alive, radiant, and welcoming. I was going home.

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2 3

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 3

2011-11-12T09:00:00.000-07:00

I never did see that friendly scorpion again. But then, I never looked for him, either. I just didn't expect him to bother me, and he complied. I wonder how he's doing now, six months later.

(Eek! I just read that, depending on the species, scorpions can live to be between 4 and 25 years old!)

The first two full days of the quest are mostly spent doing three things: Learning about the lay of the land, learning about rituals that are conducive to getting the most out of our solo time, and spending time looking for our individual solo spot.

After much angst and inner worrying that I'll never find my solo spot, I found a pretty good place. I could imagine it being my home for 84 hours of non-stop alone-ness.

Fast forward to the evening of day three. After dinner, we talked a little and made sure that everyone had what he or she needed for this journey. Quests really are a journey. We enter the desert alone, leaving all behind. We go in wonder and open-ness. Open to hearing the message of the land, the whispers of our hearts. We don't come back the same.

Soon, we entered silence and all went our separate ways for the night.

When we woke up the next morning, we gathered all of our gear and wandered silently into the base camp for the ritual that would take us over the threshold into our time of solo. After the ritual, we would be on our own for three days and three nights.

I am always struck how, during this time, I feel like I am walking into my own death, never to return. There are usually tears as we hug each other goodbye. It's amazing! If we were in a Walmart parking lot and found ourselves hugging each other goodbye, knowing that we would see each other again in 84 hours, I swear it would not be so poignant. (But I'd probably be crying for other reasons... Don't make me go to Walmart!!!)

After hugs, we stood in a circle and, one by one, said the one word that we wanted to take with us on our solo. We knew that each of the other questers would be holding our word for us, also.

My word was...

Previous Wilderness Quest Posts: 1 2

How I Became U2's Marketing Guru

2011-11-11T07:30:00.000-07:00

Last night, I went to a small, dark bar, very intimate, and U2 was playing. The place was only sparsely filled. After the concert, I was speaking to Bono and The Edge, telling them about how they needed to do some marketing. They asked what to do. I told them that the way we built our massage practice was to do door-to-door flyers and it worked well. They thought it sounded like a good idea and decided that they would do that. I told them that it's not easy. It's a lot of walking - not easy walking when you have to go up and down driveways. They were very impressed that I was so wise about marketing.

Then I realized that, hey, they can fill stadiums for goodness sake! What's the deal with only drawing a very small crowd in a bar and the need for marketing? Their reply: Yeah, they could fill stadiums, but the small venues were harder.

I started having a "thing" with Bono. The last time I remember having sex with him, we were in some closed small space. We knew his wife was outside the door. That was somewhat uncomfortable.

Later that day, I needed to make an appointment with a woman who was connected to the band somehow. While we were doing our transaction, Bono's wife walked past me and into the reception area. I felt really bad and asked the receptionist if people looked down on me for having an affair with Bono. She told me there was no judgment. Whew!

I wonder how many women have had dream sex with Bono!

(Disclaimer - I have never had CONSCIOUS fantasies about sex with Bono, and even though he's a famous rock star - and kind of sexy - he's not my type.) ;-)

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 2

2011-11-10T08:30:00.000-07:00

The desert is moody. Cold and indifferent one day, hot and intense the next.

Our base camp was set up before we arrived the first morning. Water in the smaller containers was still frozen from the night before. Wind drove the cold air into my bones. And it was too late to head back to my warm house. I was committed to being on this exposed land for the next eight days.

Forget about warm housing, I didn't even have a tent! It is suggested that no tent be used on a quest, allowing us to be less separated from the land and life of which we are a part. There are many things that would give me great comfort in the desert, and a tent is at the top of the list. During the upcoming nights, my home would be made of a ground cloth below me, a sleeping bag around me, and another tarp above to keep out any rain. No protective walls to keep out any boogeymen or four-leggeds that may find me out there in the middle of nowhere. Even though I always approach quests with fears of tentlessness, I usually end up sleeping without the top tarp some of the time because I find that it separates me from the AMAZING, gargantuan night skies that reach into infinity.

The first night out this time around, dressed in long underwear, fleece shirt and pants, and my down coat, I snuggled into my blue down sleeping bag, and by the light of my headlamp, I began to journal. (Yes, with all of that insulation, I was pretty darn comfortable.) Grief about my dad's dementia and physical deterioration, along with confusion about how his care was being handled leaked out through ink onto paper, through tears onto cheeks, and through cries into the night. As I was indulging quite nicely, a scorpion crawled from under my ground cloth. Hadn't he ever heard the sound of a wailing woman before???) He was about four inches from my writing hand. Yikes.

Did you know that during the day, scorpions find shelter from the hot sun by hiding under rocks, but you can't fool a scorpion into thinking a headlamp is the sun, so you can't make him hide - or go away? What to do, what to do? He moseyed on around so that he was about a foot away from where my head would lie - if I had the nerve to go to sleep knowing that there was a scorpion hovering nearby. I watched him as he would walk a short distance, then hang out for a while - getting nowhere slowly. I watched to be sure that he was going to go THAT way, not THIS way, toward me.

After about a half hour, when I realized that the scorpion had more staying power than I did, I just decided to quit my supervising and hope that if that little stinger guy came any closer, he would choose to go underneath my ground cloth again instead of joining me on top of it. Sometimes, you just can't worry about what might happen, so I cocooned myself into my bag and slept like a baby.

To See the First Wilderness Quest Post: 1

Yesterday's Hike

2011-11-09T09:10:00.000-07:00

Ground accepts bare feet

offerings on a fall hike

earth, friend, mother, life

No, it wasn't snowy all the way. Most places along the trail were warm (somewhat) from the sun.

What the heck??? A pink plastic spoon taped to a tree with black tape. There must be some kind of cosmic significance here!

Wilderness Quest 2011 - Part 1

2011-11-07T07:33:00.000-07:00

On the second to last day of April, I traveled in a yacht-sized black SUV from Denver to Moab, Utah with a complete stranger/new friend. . Terry is a friend of a friend - a wild man who is unafraid of challenging himself in the physical world. While I am more reserved when it comes to bodily challenges and feel more at home challenging my inner life, we still had fun getting to know each other as we rode through rain and snow, finally landing in the sunshine of Moab seven hours later. I was not only entering the stunning canyon areas of Utah, I was walking into the unknown territories of my third wilderness quest.

In Moab, we met up with the people with whom we would be spending the next eight days - three days together, three days on solo, and then another two days together. With a history of shy introversion (painfully tongue-tied in the past, but getting somewhat better with age), the days of togetherness with strangers was more challenging for me than the hot days I sat alone with only this crazy mind for companionship.

After dinner out with the fourteen other beautiful people from the U.S. and Germany who, along with the desert creatures, would be my companions for the next few days, I went to my motel room with my two room-mates - a couple from California that I knew from some workshops we had taken together. And do you know what we did that night in preparation for our great spiritual adventure into the desert??? We laughed and laughed, and we watched television! I, a non-television viewer, watched TV as I entered into the abyss of the wilderness quest. My companions' choice? A "re-run" of the day's most televised event - the beautiful, proper, glamorous wedding of Prince William & Catherine Middleton! Can you believe it? What an archway into the austerity of the desert!

Pondering the "F" Word

2011-11-05T18:11:00.001-06:00

I stood on the sidewalk holding my "Peace" sign and watching the young man at the bus stop while he danced pirouettes to keep his hacky sack in the air. Sitting on the stone bus stop bench, a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties read a book as she drank her Starbuck's from a paper cup.

The bus pulled up and a car across the way stopped for the red light, its windows down and Elton John's "Tiny Dancer" pouring into the air.

Hold me closer, tiny dancer...

How can anyone ever say that life is boring with all of this entertainment?

After a while, someone hurled the words, "Freedom isn't free!" across five lanes of traffic and into the ears of our group of Women in Black vigilers (and anyone else within a two-block radius). I always ponder such outbursts, unoriginal as they may be. I probably spend much more time pondering such phrases yelled at us than does the person pronouncing such profundities. But I could be wrong about that.

Below is how my imaginary dialog with Yelling Man (YM) could go:

(Since I don't know what YM would say to my inquiries, I can't put words in his mouth.)

YM: Freedom isn't free!

Me: What do you mean by that? Do you mean that freedom costs money? Do you mean that freedom costs lives? The lives of our citizens who are sent to war and the lives of citizens of other countries? Are you talking about money or lives or both?

YM: Freedom isn't free!

Me: Do you feel free now, knowing that people are dying all over the world while we spend trillions of dollars and thousands of lives on war?

YM: Freedom isn't free!

Me: I experience freedom whether or not we have people fighting in other countries. Is freedom truly freedom if it's based on conditions? Conditions that could change in an instant? That doesn't sound very free to me. I experience freedom while you yell at me, I experience freedom while our government watches me on cameras. I experience freedom while I pay taxes. On my best days, freedom isn't contingent on circumstances outside myself. On my worst days, I suffer and think that my suffering is caused by others. At some point, though, I usually wake up and remember the source of true freedom (or, sometimes, I have to ask for help in order to get my head on straight again). Then, I am no longer a victim. Maybe when you yell that freedom isn't free, maybe you're forgetting and not having one of your best days?

Everything can be taken from a man but...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

True freedom is always spiritual. It has something to do with your innermost being, which cannot be chained, handcuffed, or put into a jail. - OSHO, Freedom: The Courage to Be Yourself

The truth shall make you free. - Jesus, John 8:31

I used to think freedom meant doing whatever you want. It means knowing who you are, what you are supposed to be doing on this earth, and then simply doing it.

– Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones

My Boyfriend

2011-11-04T08:30:00.000-06:00

I'm in love with this guy.

I guess that you could call me a two-timer - or maybe a three-timer - because I was seeing this guy while Buddha was still here and, well, I AM married, you know.

I'm usually attracted to big men with dark hair, so this is quite the deviation from my normal attractions.

But there is just something special about this guy. I think he feels the same about me.

We get to spend some quality time every once in awhile. His woman isn't even jealous.

Neither is Mr. CFP.

Something about him makes my heart melt.

Oh, Chipper, if you didn't already have a woman and some prissy, little female four-leggeds to live with, I'd bring you home in a second!

Kneel

2011-11-03T08:00:00.000-06:00

My favorite Dilbert cartoon. I must have pulled this off of my Dilbert calendar in the late 80s or early 90s. I don't know where it's been all of these years, but I ran across it the other day.

(Click to embiggen)

Still cracks me up.

Maybe I'm just easily entertained.

Love Means...

2011-11-01T14:31:00.000-06:00

As autumn approached, we spent a few days in Rocky Mountain National Park. Dogs are not allowed to hike within a National Park, and since Buddha was no longer in our life, we were now free to hike many trails during our time there.

Real LOVE is when we can't stand to leave our best dog behind, so we don't hike a close national park for years and years - and we don't feel like we're missing out on anything, because having a best dog friend is way more valuable.

Elk above timberline

(I love all of the colors in the hills.)

Before Mr. Boodie left us, he was getting weak in his hind legs, so in order to give the guy some more traction, we bought rugs for areas of our home that have wood floors. The rug in the bedroom is a plain, light color. Buddha hairs showed on it like iron filings on a magnet, like the gray hairs popping up all over my head.

When Mr. CFP did the first post-Buddha vacuuming (which didn't take place until more than a week after Buddha died, because knowing that I'd never have Buddha hairs on my rug again, I forbade the cleaning of that rug), the first thought that came to my mind after entering the room was, "I love the look of a clean floor!" But real LOVE allows for hairy rugs, because having a dog buddy who thinks we're a god is way more valuable than a clean rug.

Today at the nursing home where my dad lives, I got to give Todd (the resident dog) a morning neck massage. We both loved it. A lot. Maybe sometime, a different four-legged best buddy will find its way to this home and this heart. I don't need national parks and clean carpets anyway.

Whispering

2011-10-30T09:29:00.000-06:00

breathing as I stand on the corner, “Imagine Peace On Earth” sign in hand.

breathing it ALL in, breathing it ALL out.

breathing in the love of family that motivates a man to work a job building these passing cars
breathing in the greed that causes another to pay low wages and charge too much for the cars
breathing out the love within me that motivates me to stand here for peace
breathing out the greed within me that wants more than enough for me before I give to others

breathing in the same air that has been breathed by millions before me
breathing in the hatred of Hitler, the nonviolence of Gandhi, the clarity of Martin Luther King, Jr.
breathing in the realization that, no matter who we are or what we believe, we share the same air

breathing in germs, dirt, exhaust, love, fear, worry, lust, caring, hurry
breathing in the used oxygen of someone with cancer
breathing in the oxygen that a new baby just breathed out

Every cell of every body is given life by the ancient air that we share.
We are all whispers of the one breath

© 2011 Carol Barrow

Back again?

2011-10-28T15:49:00.000-06:00

Wow! What happened while I was away? Everything looks different on Blogger's "Compose" page.

I'm playing around with the idea of blogging again. The important words here are "playing around". Since I don't know where this will go, I am not announcing my return to anyone. Shussshhhh... it's a secret!

Blogger is not the only thing that has changed since the last time I posted. I have changed and so has my family.

I have less parts.

In June, I went to the ER at 4:00 in the morning. I had awakened at 3:00 for a bathroom break, and by the time I got back to bed, I knew something was really wrong. Over the course of about two minutes, I went from sleeping like a baby to flailing all over the house like a wild animal. It was amazing! I felt like I was a bull snake who had, somehow, swallowed a coyote. A big, whole coyote. And I needed to get that coyote out NOW! We live pretty close to a hospital, so Mr. Carol For Peace drove me over there in the dark of the night and after a few writhing hours and many cries for my mommy, I finally got some pain meds. It ended up that a part of my large intestine had flipped and twisted. Two days later, about 18 inches of my intestine was taken out.

Now I am a new woman. I am better than I've been in decades. That surgery needed to happen and no one knew it. I didn't know that I could be so grateful for a coyote-bulging gut and a resulting vertical scar down the middle of my belly!

I don't have a Buddha buddy.

A little over two months after the coyote extraction, my sweet, sweet, bestest buddy, Buddha died at the ripe old age of nearly 15. It's been less than three months and my heart still hurts. I still cry at everything sweet or sad or loving or anything. I am still a wet noodle. I can't believe he's gone. WHERE DID HE GO???

Buddha was the best.

I have a button that sits at the base of my monitor. A friend gave it to me a couple of years ago. It says, "What Would Buddha Do?" It probably isn't referring to a beloved dog. But every time I see it, I remember what Buddha (the dog) would do. He would be loyal. He would be happy and enthusiastic and patient and flexible and accepting. He would jump up and down with excitement when someone came to the door. He would like everyone.

And he would love to hike.

I have been able to nurture some of those qualities within myself. Still working on the art of jumping up and down when someone appears at the door, though.

Dear Buddha - I will always love you.

I'd Like To Take This Opportunity

2011-03-17T11:27:00.003-06:00

My friend, Otowi, passed on an award to me. The award asks us to answer the five questions below. I'd like to take this humbling opportunity to make an important (to me) announcement. (Thank you, Otowi!)

1) When did you start your blog?

My previous blog, Carol For Peace, was born in August of 2005, but I started to feel like I was outgrowing it, so I deserted it for this one in January of 2009.

2) What do you write about?

I have no idea. Stuff... Nuthin'.

3) What makes your blog special?

Nuthin'.

(I'm starting to feel like the kid who, when she comes home from school answers, "Nothin'" to every question from her mom.)

4) What made you want to start writing a blog?

Mr. CfP made me do it! I started my Carol For Peace blog at the urging of Mr. CfP after I, and thousands of others, had gone to Crawford, Texas to visit our last president. We were wondering about these wars - you know, the ones that we are, to this day, still involved with. We wanted to tell Mr. GWB that we wanted him to put an end to the carnage. Obviously, our words fell on deaf ears.

Since that time I have changed from an ego-based activist (not saying that all activists are ego-based, but I was) to a whatever-I-am-today type of person, so I thought that this A Peace Carol blog would give me a new canvass where I could express myself.

5) What would you like to change in your blog?

This is where it gets good. This is what I want to change about my blog: I want to put it to rest. I want to say how grateful I am for this blogging experience, for the people I've met, the support I've received, the things I've learned.

I have been noticing a loss of creativity. Maybe it's because I have been having intense experiences and yet I don't feel free to write about them in this arena. Am I stifling myself? (Stifle... Hmmmm... Images of Archie Bunker arise in my head.) I don't know.

In order to find out how long this blog has been alive, I had to look at my archives. I read the first few posts on this blog and I thought, "I am not writing like that any longer. I'm not feeling as alive in my writing as I once did."

So it's time to ride off into the sunset - at least as far as APeaceCarolLand is concerned.

Me and Buddha riding off into the sunset - without our horse. Okay, we're walking into the sunset.

I completely expect to visit y'all a lot as I mosey around these here intertubes.

Thank you for reading my writings and for being the awesome people that you are!

Goodbye, Adios, Auf Wiedersehen, Ciao!

Unshocked

2011-03-06T08:37:00.002-07:00

This is what it feels like:

I'm holding it together (whatever "it" is) and then a big bird flies overhead and shits - right on my noggin.

Have you ever had a bird shit on your head? I have. On my wedding day. After I had already showered, but not yet dressed myself in the off-white-with-roses-patterned dress I had made for the occasion. I was out under the trees in our backyard when I felt something hit me. When I asked my daughter if there was something in my hair, I knew the answer by the way she almost rolled on the lawn, howling. As I went inside to re-wash my hair, I told my rude daughter not to tell anyone what happened - especially the soon-to-be Mr. CfP - until after the wedding. So what did she do? Oh, you must know my daughter...

I swear that the universe waited for that perfect time to shit on me. I had owed it a debt for about 35 years. You see, I had once laughed until I couldn't breathe after watching my little brother, about three years old at the time, get splattered from head to shoulder with bird poop. Yes, I was an innocent five year old, but the stars keep score, I swear.

So when I talk about getting shit (shitted?) on, I know what I'm talking about. You may, too.

Which takes me back to my unshocked title. Even though it takes a lot of fortitude to get through this parent thing right now, it isn't more than I can handle. But I'm walking the edge enough that things, like that near miss a short while back and then another little family trauma which occurred a couple of days ago, feel like the little bird dropping that can be enough to knock me over the edge. A certain shock sets in and I get all into myself and my story.

And a story with one character is usually boring - for the character and for the reader.

I would like to say that I recover within minutes, but the truth is that it takes a couple of days before I start to feel the ick of it all and to again hear Don Juan's words to Carlos Castaneda: "You indulge like a son of a bitch." That knocks the shock off of me and I remember that there is more happening here than the little world which I seem to have created.

Thank you for all of your support. I'm truly getting that this is a very supportive world. We are all held up - I just forget sometimes.

I Didn't Go

2011-03-04T14:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my friends (most of whom I'd never met before today) left for Crestone without me. I went to the Conoco station where we always rendezvous on the way out of town and I got to see them off. (Hey Dancing, one couple was from England - delightful people.)

There is some sadness here, but I'm mostly over that. I feel like I grew up a little. My decision was a 100% selfless, going against what I wanted for me.

There will be other times that I can do what I want. This is the one time that I can be here for my parents as my dad is born into his next stage.

My new friends are taking a piece of me with them. I am so very lucky to be so loved and supported.

Amazing.

Retreating

2011-03-01T08:52:00.002-07:00

I will be off of the intertubes for awhile.

Never have I left for Crestone with such a wiggly mind and body.

A bird is singing outside my window. I don't recognize the song. A toot-toot... toot-toot sound.

Yesterday when I went to visit my dad at the skilled nursing facility that is his new home for the moment, I saw a beautiful dog sitting next to the long front desk. As I asked the man behind the desk how to find my dad's room, I felt something nudging the back of my leg. I knew what it was. I turned to see that sweet dog, who looks like the Buddha dog but heftier, smelling every dog-nose-height wrinkle and fold of my pants. Awwwww... you don't know what that did to my heart. Or maybe you do.

The dog at the skilled nursing center looks a lot like Buddha.

I used to give massage to people in hospice. I loved that work. Now that I'm no longer able to do that, I have often thought that I would like to be a person who brings visiting dogs into hospitals and hospices. Our Buddha dog has never been the visiting kind. He's somewhere on the Asperger's continuum and I know that he would rather duck a hand reaching out to him than to be loved up by anyone. He's just that way.

Maybe someday a dog of the right temperament will find its way into my life and heart, and together we will be able to play with strangers while they find acceptance and love from a four-legged kind of friend.

Now, though, I'm just looking forward to listening to the coyotes punctuate the silence while I sit and do nothing. Maybe that will happen and maybe it won't. Maybe the trip will be shortened by events, but maybe I'll sit in the sun for days with no cares.

We never know what the next second will bring, let alone the next ten days. I like to pretend that I know, but right now, pretending isn't even possible. I'm aware of the "best laid plans..." and "If you want to see God laugh, make a plan" lines of wisdom. I can't "not plan", but I guess I might as well have a little sense of humor about having my best laid plans come crashing down.

Thinking about it, just what's so bad about hearing God laugh anyway?

Goodbye for awhile!

The Amusement Park

2011-02-27T10:05:00.003-07:00

It took me until I was fourteen to begin to LOVE riding roller coasters. My friends and I would go to the old Elitch Amusement Park or to Lakeside Amusement Park (which still exists, I think) and roller coaster until we were sick of it.

These days, I don't need to go to an amusement park in order to ride a roller coaster. Roller Coasters R Us (how do you make a backwards "R" on this thing?) I am Roller Coaster.

It's been a little over a week now and my dad has been on a roller coaster whose high points have gotten lower and lower and whose low points have done the same. I'm pretty much okay with that - it's what happens under these circumstances - but it's my mom's emotions which get to me as they go along on the ride. I mean, think of it - over 60 years of never being apart. She was just a baby (not yet 21) when this story began.

Wednesday:

On the way to qigong class, I made a left turn onto a side street. A big, dark truck was coming from the opposite direction and was turning west like me. It turned first and I followed. I don't really know how it happened. All I know is that suddenly a man about 60 years old with a long beard and a skateboard (yes, that's what I remember) was right in front of my car. I slammed on my brakes; he stopped in his tracks. I mouthed, "I'm sorry." He motioned for me to go on.

That was my last straw. I parked and sat in the car and bawled. And even though I didn't want to, I had to go to qigong because Mr. CfP would be there and would wonder if something happened to me.

Something DID happen to me.

For two days, I was a little girl. Previously, I had been trying to hold everything up, but I now could no longer do that. That is, I could no longer even try. The truth is, it's impossible to hold things up anyway. It's all bigger than me.

In many ways, it was a relief. And in some ways, it felt like grief. And it was about time.

Sometimes I wonder if that man was really an angel sent to help me become more real. I had been trying to be the one in control of herself. What a crazy act!

Today:

Months ago, I signed up to do my 4th retreat in Crestone. If I could only do one nice thing for myself each year, it would be to go to Crestone and spend a week mostly in solitude and silence. This Thursday is the day we retreatants are scheduled to head south to the San Luis Valley and the tiny village of Crestone. Over the last week, the roller coaster has given me views where I saw myself going, but it has also gone so low that I couldn't see anything - there was no view. Today I will clean my house (I have a guest coming before the retreat) and pack - after all, I only have four days until I leave. If I leave.

The Rolling Stones are playing in my head:

Time waits for no one, no favours has he
Time waits for no one, and he won't wait for me

Men, they build towers to their passing yes, to their fame everlasting
Here he comes chopping and reaping, hear him laugh at their cheating

And time waits for no man, and it won't wait for me
Yes, time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me

Drink in your summer, gather your corn
The dreams of the night time will vanish by dawn

And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me
And time waits for no one, and it won't wait for me

One reason I love Crestone

Beauty #8

2011-02-26T09:35:00.001-07:00

This gave me goosebumps when I watched it on Facebook this morning.

One of my wishes for all of us: That we could be so uninhibited and ALIVE. That we will not, as Thoreau said, "go to the grave with the song still in them [us]."

Have Fun!

2011-02-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

As I was growing up, the last words I would usually hear from my mom as I was about to head out were: "Be careful."

Those words wore a deep groove into my brain.

A few years ago, to counteract that message that life is something to be afraid of, to be careful of, I painted these words above my front door: "Have Fun!" They were a reminder, as one crossed over the threshold into the world, to forget "careful" and instead to be aware of joy and wonder, to play in this play we call life.

As my dad's dementia has progressed, he has begun a ritual of always thanking us for our visits and then as we prepare to leave, he tells us to "Have fun!".

Yesterday, as my dad lay in his hospital bed, unable to keep his eyes open, my mom loudly told him that my brother and I were leaving. Dad opened his eyes and said, "Have fun!"

There were many times that I resisted minding my dad. I'm sure that I often had an attitude about doing what he said to do. But now I'm going to make him proud by doing my very best to Have fun!

2011-02-23T08:04:00.002-07:00

Ever notice how, when you learn a new word, all of a sudden you see or hear that word everywhere? Or you hear a song and then that song seems to haunt you every place you go?

That is how it is with me and purple now. Ever since Goodnight Gram posted about purple, purple has been following me like a dust cloud around Charlie Brown's Pig-Pen.

Yesterday, in honor of Goodnight Gram, I put on a purple sweater. I thought that a couple of sweaters were all the purple that I owned nowadays, but when I went to put on a light jacket for our spring-like day, I saw my PURPLE silk jacket. Oh yeah! I had forgotten!

So, of course, I put it on!

Feeling rather purplish - and proud of it - I walked into the hospital only to see that the volunteers at the front desk all had on purple vests! I visit this hospital so often they have almost named a room after me. They will soon give me and my family frequent patient discounts. And I have never before registered the fact that the volunteers wear purple!

Soon, I was noticing purple people all over the place. If someone volunteers in a different part of the hospital - not at the front desk - he/she gets to wear a purple shirt rather than a vest. In the halls, in my dad's room - purple people everywhere.

I felt like a member of some exclusive club. It was great!

Maybe I've been around sick people too long...

Couldn't resist.

Beauty #7

2011-02-22T08:34:00.003-07:00

There is so much beauty in the world. Everyone could post about it and never run out of its proof.

We had to call an ambulance (again) for my dad Sunday morning. He is still in the hospital, but they will probably release him today, even though he may not be able to ambulate. I feel like we are walking on the razor's edge of a cliff. And we may or may not fall off. Well, of course we'll fall off. It's a matter of when.

Anyway, that is not the point of this post. The point of this post is 1) to talk about people in elevators, and 2) to share the last rhododendron photo of this series.

First, the elevators. You may already know this: People in hospital elevators are some of the nicest people in the world. A thirty second hospital elevator ride and ta-daaaaa! Instant connection. Talking, joking and "Have a Nice Day!"-ing. We are family, united by the illness of someone we care for. It could make one think that the world is a very friendly place! (Well, I already knew that, but some people just want, through their behavior, to try to prove otherwise.) I bet even those people would be friendly and sweet if we were to meet them on the hospital elevator.

Maybe hospitals spray Nice Juice in their elevators. Maybe we could find their source and spray it all over the world...

Below is the last rhodie that I'm going to post. I love the drops of water on the stems and petals.

The beauty of the heart

is the lasting beauty:

its lips give to drink

of the water of life.

-Rumi

Beauty #6

2011-02-21T08:52:00.003-07:00

This one (the last rhodie I'll share) is for GoodnightGram. (She'll know why.) My purple rhodie photos didn't come out so well, so I played with Photoshop on this one. I didn't do it justice, but it's kind of fun.

"A flower's fragrance declares to all the world that it is fertile, available, and desirable, its sex organs oozing with nectar. Its smell reminds us in vestigial ways of fertility, vigor, life-force, all the optimism, expectancy, and passionate bloom of youth. We inhale its ardent aroma and, no matter what our ages, we feel young and nubile in a world aflame with desire."

- Diane Ackerman, A Natural History of the Senses

G.G., check this out: The Purple Store I think I could have fun there - how about you?

Beauty #5

2011-02-20T10:42:00.000-07:00

I think that this rhododendron from Whidbey Island has been a previous visitor to this blog. I love the "rhodie bouquet" that this plant created.

How did the rose
Ever open its heart
And give to this world
All its beauty?
It felt the encouragement of light
Against its being,
Otherwise,
We all remain
Too frightened.

- Hafiz

Beauty #4

2011-02-19T10:15:00.001-07:00

Yesterday evening, Mr. CfP and I experienced our second float. It was so, so, so... oh, there are no words. I am hooked. A WANT to be a float junkie! Flotation tanks are an antidote for this fast-paced, media-frenzied, too-many-demands-filled world.

I didn't want to go to the float tank. I wasn't feeling well - had a whining tummy and was very tired. After a short while in the tank, though, I realized my tummy had turned happy - no more complaining. I came out of the tank feeling more than fine. Renewed.

That's just one of the many reasons floating is my new drug of choice.

After our flotation experience, we went to dinner at my most favorite eating and community place in the whole world - the Mercury Cafe. Marilyn, the owner, is inspiring. She has created a space where all of these things can be happening at once: a local group was putting on a play; next door to that, people were eating soul-rejuvenating local, organic food; and upstairs someone was having a birthday party. The Mercury Cafe is funky, as are most of its people. Its food is real and one never knows what in-season vegetables they'll get. It has solar panels and the best water-saving toilets in town (this kind). Marilyn supports all who want to make the world a better place, sometimes opening the place up for meetings on Mondays, even though her establishment is closed on Mondays.

Last night as Mr. CfP took my hand across the table and kissed it (sweet, huh?), I noticed that Marilyn was walking by.

And I thought to myself: What a beautiful life. To be able to create an atmosphere that is such a contribution to our world, a place that does as little harm as possible to the planet, a peaceful oasis which encourages love, health, community, and a man to kiss his wife's hand.

The good is the beautiful.

- Plato

Beauty #3

2011-02-18T14:24:00.001-07:00

Another pink one.

Beauty is truth's smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror.

- Rabindranath Tagore

Beauty #2

2011-02-17T08:42:00.003-07:00

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything beautiful, for beauty is God's handwriting.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Beauty #1

2011-02-16T09:45:00.002-07:00

A couple of years ago, we visited with a woman who lives on Whidbey Island. An important aspect of her life is her love affair with rhododendrons. When I first heard of this love of hers, I was a bit bewildered. How could anyone have a love affair with a type of flower?

While we were on Whidbey, the woman took us to Meerkerk Rhododendron Gardens and then to a private garden.

Oh, my! I got it! I could see why someone would be in love with rhododendrons. Well, sort of...

Last night as I went through my photos looking for some Buddha shots to send to a friend, I got so much enjoyment out of looking at the beauty of these graceful flowers that I thought I would share some of them over the next few days.

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

- Rumi

Love in Six Words

2011-02-14T10:05:00.001-07:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

SmithMag.net is collecting six-word love stories. Most of the contributors don't seem so happy.

Here's one of the better ones:

Happy Anniversary: four heart-exploding years together.

One of the not-so-sweet ones:

Women fake orgasms... Men fake relationships.

Here is mine:

Learning to Love Like Never Before.

What would you write as a six-word love story?

(Happy Valentine's Day, my sweet Mr. CfP!)

What Springtime?

2011-02-12T15:43:00.003-07:00

A few hours ago, I wrote that I would be standing outside in spring-like weather today. Ha! Curses, you trickster weather!

The sun didn't come out from hiding behind a big gray cloud until 1:29 p.m. We end our vigil at 1:30 p.m. Aaaahhhhh... the timing. The temps were not all that warm, due to the lack of sun and the fact that we were standing on packed snow and were surrounded by much more snow. We were standing in an icebox. And because I dressed for SPRING instead of donning my big, chocolate marshmallow coat, I was cold.

Today it came to me to (inwardly) say "I love you" to every driver and pedestrian I could connect with - a slight variation from the wishes of previous weeks. It was so much fun! And I got to find the unloving places in myself.

A young woman drove by. She was slouched in her seat and didn't even glance our way. I said "I love you", but realized that I didn't feel it. I was judging her. She seemed lazy. I had to ask myself if I can only love people if they don't seem lazy. Nope! I love her even if I make up a story in my mind about her being lazy.

A young man was throwing snowballs at his friend while waiting for the bus. When he sat on the hill behind us with a snowball and a devilish grin, I wondered if he would consider aiming at us. I found that I loved him even if he threw a snowball at me (which he didn't do - whew!).

When I play with connecting with the humans that pass me by, I have so much fun. AND as long as I was loving people, I would forget that I was cold! Double bonus.

I also thought of Egypt as I stood in the non-spring-like weather. Before the vigil, I told a woman that I was so happy for the people of Egypt, and she replied, "Oh, yes, but the work has just begun." Well, yes... I have also read comments where the biggest concern was that the price of gas might rise, due to whatever might come of the protests.

HELLO!!!

These people just performed some of the bravest actions known to mankind. They were willing to suffer (and die) to be free. I LOVE that they followed their hearts. Even if a "bad" government comes in, it cannot take away the fact that these people stood up. When someone gets well from a disease, we don't squelch his or her happiness by saying "Yeah, but you know you will probably get sick again sometime, and you WILL die, you know...". No, we CELEBRATE!

I love the Egyptians even if their actions give me higher gas prices and even if it brings in a government that I don't like.

It Feels Like Spring

2011-02-12T08:41:00.000-07:00

After a few weeks of snow and frigid temps, I walk outside to let the Buddha dog do his morning duties and I breathe in spring air. The Birds are singing. My computer exudes exuberant voices from Egypt.

It's a new day.

Spring-like weather may not last from now into the summer, but the high today is expected to be almost 50 degrees and I will enjoy it as I stand for peace.

The exuberance of the Egyptians may not last indefinitely - after all, there is much to do to ensure that they get a government they want - but they are enjoying the results of their work right now and so am I.

When one person is willing to free herself, we are all freed.

Because it will be a warmer day to stand in vigil and because I'll be standing in solidarity with my brothers and sisters in Egypt, I have brought out one of my favorite shirts to wear:

It was designed by my friends, Emma's Revolution:

Thank you, people of Egypt. You have shown me the power of the human spirit.

The Invisible Wars

2011-02-09T09:48:00.001-07:00

I've been trying to figure out why I can be accepting and understanding of the behaviors of someone who has Alzheimer's/dementia, but it's not so easy for me to play along with someone who is less-than-rational/logical/kind but has no diagnosis...

Guess I need to imagine a certificate on the wall announcing that the person in question has a certifiable disease so that I can be as patient with them as I am with my dad.

Reminds me of one of my favorite quotes, which I think I've posted here before, but it bears repeating (that is, for me, it bears repeating a few times daily):

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.

My New Profession

2011-02-05T17:51:00.001-07:00

Somehow Mr. CfP decided that I would be his new barber. I am not quite sure how this all came about. I must not have protested loudly enough and sincerely enough, because last week, an expensive pair of barber scissors arrived at our house via UPS.

Those scissors sat in a drawer for a week while I searched the intertubes for instructions on how to cut a man's curly locks. Hair Cutting For Dummies arrived from the library one day but that book did NOT inspire confidence.

I hemmed and hawed and read and thought. Meanwhile, Michael's blossoming 'fro was starting to resemble Linc's from the Mod Squad (if you're too young to know what I'm talking about... well, never mind...)

(photo courtesy of Wikipedia)

Finally, we decided that today was going to be the big day. The haircut was long past due. Today would be the THREE MONTH anniversary of Mr. CfP's last haircut and my hair-cutting debut.

And, well, my worst nightmare didn't happen (or at least not THIS worst nightmare). Mr. CfP will not have to make a hair appointment in order to get his wife's mistakes fixed. There are probably MANY mistakes in his 'do, but none appear to be noticeable enough for the untrained eye to care about.

Ta-daaaaaa!

Too bad I didn't take any "Befores".

I think that I'll wait until I've cut his hair a couple of more times before I open up my own salon. You'll be invited to my Open House.

Stillness

2011-02-02T12:51:00.001-07:00

Open the door to darkness;
Without seeing what's before you, take a step.
You are safe,
even when stepping into the void.

Close the door behind you
and rest in the still water.
You are supported,
even if you can't understand how.

Look, listen, feel.
There are no boundaries.
You are a star in the universe,
and all you see is... nothing.

Over time, you become
a body in a womb
You are nurtured
and there are no needs.

You realize this body is breathing
and digesting; heart beating, blood flowing.
You aren't making it happen,
couldn't if you tried.

Amidst the quiet comes
a knock on the door.
You emerge, done with this journey
Or are you?

Ahhhhhhhhh....

(Mr. Cfp and I each experienced our first floats in float tanks yesterday.)

One Heart

2011-01-23T09:04:00.000-07:00

May you be happy.
I have sent those
wishes
for weeks to every eye,
every steering wheel-grasping hand,
I could see.

Silent vigil.
Much can happen in silence. An
intimacy
with every human who passes.

Leaving the
ego,
the self-consciousness of
standing before an audience
of cars and passersby. Only
a silent wish remains.

Yesterday,
no wish for happiness
could manifest.
Instead, the day called for an
open heart;
connecting one open heart
to all hearts.

Remaining open,
kindness
compassion
acceptance
fearlessness
That was the intention.

Was the extraordinary
symphony
of honking horns, were the
visits from bus stop waiters,
a result of
above mentioned open heart?

It would take a
return
of ego and self-consciousness
to claim such a thing.

Am not sure
if there is
such a thing as
coincidence.

But there sure was
a fine
dance
of hearts
happening on
that street corner
yesterday.

Foxy Lady

2011-01-16T14:06:00.004-07:00

A red-blond fox just walked across the street in front of my home. He walked onto my neighbor's driveway and stopped to look back for a moment, then went on to places only he knows. It was 12:30 in the afternoon, broad daylight. We don't normally see foxes in the middle of the day - they seem to like dawn, dusk, and the night better.

Tonight is a Rusty Z kind of night.

I have known my friend, Jim, since I was in 9th grade.

He was the guy that walked the halls of our high school while playing a finger piano, long before I knew what a finger piano was.

He was the friend who wrote a song about me when my knees were a source of constant pain: "Louise has a disease in her knees". Don't ask...

He and another friend came to my house one day when we were probably 16 years old. They asked me to come out and walk to the park with them. As we were walking, they pulled out a bag of green stuff and said that we were going to smoke it. I was the unblemished, naive girl who had only moved here from small town Kansas a few years before. Still, I have to say that my friends' over-acting was enough to cause suspicion in anyone, and I finally got the truth out of the young men: they were testing my reaction by tempting me with a bag of thyme or basil or some other herb of the non-getting-high-type.

Anyway, after that long introduction, I want to say that Jim now goes by the name of Rusty Z., and Rusty Z has a really funny hypno comedy act (much funnier than a bag of herbs) that I bet he can bring to your local comedy club or office party, if you ask nicely. (Okay, it might take a lot of moolah in order to get him to the U.K., but ya never know!)

Rusty Z will be doing his thing at a local comedy club tonight and Mr. CfP and I will be in the audience. I could use a good laugh about now...

I'll call him Tom.

We barely knew each other while still in school, but we "re-met" at our tenth high school reunion and became friends. After both of our marriages ended, we dated for a year or so. There was a lot of messiness in our relationship - I won't bore you with the details. Our friendship didn't survive our break-up and I have held some not-so-comfortable feelings around our relationship for over 16 years.

A few people from high school days will be in the audience at Rusty Z's act tonight - Tom will be one of those people. My first reaction when I saw his confirmation on my Facebook page was: I can always cancel our reservations. But some wiser part of me recognized this as an opportunity for healing (plus, if I canceled, I'd be embarrassed to tell Rusty and others the real reason why I canceled).

So I asked myself some good questions and I waited to find out what the answers might be. The worst part of the process was when I realized that the real reason I had icky feelings was because of my judgments about myself and how I handled the relationship. OUCH! Did NOT want to go there!

But I did it anyway.

And now I realize that all that happened ended up leading us to where we are today and today is GREAT! So, I look forward to seeing Tom. I feel a lot of warmth for all that he contributed to my life and who I am now.

Back to the fox.

We have a pile of "Medicine Cards", cards with different animals on them, and a book that describes the "medicine" that each animal can bring to us. I don't remember exactly how it works - maybe you're supposed to pull out a card and then read the "animal medicine" for that card.

Anyway, I like to look up the "medicine" for any animal that I happen upon in my day-to-day life.

According to this book, the fox has to do with being invisible, needing to step back and be the observer. And if you find that the card is upside down when you pull it out, that could be about the possibility that you have been too invisible.

I tend to be the invisible type and it would be easy to want to be an invisible observer tonight when Tom walks into the room. But instead, I am going pretend that the message that the sweet-looking, beautiful-coated fox intended me to have was: "It's safe to be seen. And forgiving. And grateful."

Just call me "Foxy Lady"! :-)

The Best Christmas EVER!

2010-12-25T16:32:00.005-07:00

On second thought, maybe the best Christmas I've had in my life so far.

Well... maybe the best Christmas since my son and daughter were little.

Anyway...

Today, twelve of us silently stood on the street corner for PEACE. Four people were visitors from Sweden.

How special that Christmas would fall on Saturday, our vigil day!

It felt so unifying, meditative, peaceful, so very, very RIGHT.

And near the end, a little piece of rainbow appeared in a cloud. Auspicious???

I hope your Christmas Day was the best EVER, too!

What I Love About This Time of Year

2010-12-23T15:07:00.001-07:00

I love ice.

I love perfectly smooth ice

and artful ice.

I remember a time when I was hiking next to a pond and the ice started singing. I'm not kidding. It sounded like angels were humming all around me. (You may say that it was all in my head, but I had a hiking buddy who heard it, too!)

I am not a cold weather type of person, but I have to say that I love this time of year (don't ask me about January and February).

I love that people come together, they think about each other more, and sometimes they out-do themselves with kindness and giving.

I love the sounds of bells and laughter and music.

My favorite Christmas song is O Holy Night.

This little girl does a beautiful job of singing it (and I like her little girl faces and moves).

What do you love about this time of year?

What is your favorite Christmas song?

Presence (Not Presents)

2010-12-22T10:12:00.002-07:00

This we have now
is not imagination.

This is not
grief or joy.

Not a judging state,
or an elation,
or sadness.

Those come
and go.

This is the presence
that doesn't.

- Rumi

Reflecting on a night when the moon turned a rusty red before my eyes,
remembering the 145 people who died on the streets of Denver this past year and the acknowledgment of their lives that we attended last night,
thinking of the grief, fear, love, and frustration that moved like the earth passing over the moon during my dad's recent illness,
and recognizing that it all comes and goes
without my control,
and all that stays constant is
life
love
the ever-now-ness.
Never touched by the comings and goings.
When I connect with that,
I know peace.

Winter Solstice Lunar Eclipse

2010-12-21T09:04:00.001-07:00

Yesterday evening Mr. CFP drove me and the Buddha dog to the park for a little walk. I almost caused a heart attack and/or accident when I yelled out "Look at that!!!!" as I first viewed the full moon rising over the city.

In Colorado, the beginnings of the eclipse took place about 11:30 p.m.

I slept for about an hour and a half before getting up to watch.

We put a blanket on the sleeping garden bed and, lying on our backs, we witnessed the most astonishing show.

I couldn't help but think about how, even though we know it's not true, we on this planet live, not only individually, but collectively, as though we are the center of the universe, .

You and I are a part of one celestial body in a universe beyond imagination.

We are as beautiful as this rusty red moon, as sacred as every planet and star, and yet, we are barely a fleeting breath within the whole miracle of it all.

As The Light Moves In

2010-12-20T16:14:00.000-07:00

I'll be up tonight - from about 11:30 p.m., Mountain Time, until about 3:00 a.m.

I plan to attend the great performance of the lunar eclipse (and maybe let my inner coyote howl a little). I'll also allow my Tibetan bowl to soak up some extraordinary moon energy.

Before the full eclipse begins, I'm going to leap and hop on my Moon Shadow.

Then during the eclipse, I plan to meditate and pray. Are you going to be up watching the eclipse tonight?

If so, I'll meet ya there!

Twas The Week Before Christmas

2010-12-18T16:29:00.000-07:00

The traffic was busy
more shopping to do
people on cellphones
rushing on through.

They couldn't be bothered
by women with signs.
Twas as though they were rushing
to stand in more lines.

A man he approached me,
I don't know his name.
He asked me some questions,
he was playing a game.

Are you for or against
abortion he asked.
I said not a thing
So he took me to task.

Shake it or nod it
he said of my head
and when I didn't
he went on and said

If you don't shake your head
then I'll tell you, I know
that you're pro abortion,
and away he did go.

I was standing for peace,
but he had his agender
Thought he could read minds
and, well, this story ends here.

Life Is But A Stream

2010-12-16T20:31:00.000-07:00

Prescription for when things feel out of balance:

Take one solo hike as often as necessary in order to alleviate symptoms.

Infinite number of refills.

No ill side effects.

I hiked alone today at the open space park that I love so much. I passed one runner. Other than that, I was THE LONE HIKER, except for the magpies and gulls and little creek.

It has been very dry here - we may break all records for lack of moisture this time of year. There are two creeks that run through my open space park. I say "run", but truthfully, they are now just trickles. But I love the sound of trickling.

Mr. CFP recently bought me a little flip cam and I brought it with me today and recorded the beautiful sound of the dancing creek. You can hear it here:

I didn't follow paths the whole time I was at the park. I followed the lead of my body. I threw rocks on the lake. They broke through the thin skin of ice and took with them my frustrations and anger and sadness.

I was alone and yet I have never felt so enveloped and embraced.

You would have liked it, I think.

I Understand

2010-12-15T14:14:00.000-07:00

When my mom said that she wanted to be well now and it was only a couple of weeks after she had broken her shoulder, the wonderful orthopedic doctor said, "I understand." I have heard him say that so many times since then.

Mom wants to be 100% rehabbed NOW.

"I understand."

The doctor doesn't tell her why that's an irrational want and he doesn't say that she'll have to wait until such-and-such a date. He just says, "I understand."

And my mom thinks that he is a really good man.

He is!

Even though I admire that man's ability to just empathize without adding to, or subtracting from, the story presented him, and even though I would like to have his communication skills, I have yet to be able to let go of whatever need I have to be right or smart or impatient or argumentative myself. I have yet to say, "I understand" when my mom feels tired or sad or impatient about her health or about my dad.

I haven't said those two words once to my mom or to Mr. CfP or to my son or to my daughter or to anyone else.

Even though I can't think of anything that anyone needs more than someone to understand, I still can't get those two simple words into my head.

Maybe a tattoo on the back of my hand will help? Or better yet, on the back of my eyeballs?

I feel a little frustrated about this.

Oh, you understand?

Gee, thanks!

No One

2010-12-13T10:27:00.002-07:00

Jason Shinder died of cancer at the age of 52. According to Wikipedia, he had put off going to the doctor to get the lumps in his throat checked. Then, he was negligent with his chemo and meds. In his poem, Company, he wrote:

I’ve been avoiding my illness
because I’m afraid
I will die and when I do,
I’ll end up alone again

I wonder if in his death, he realized his deepest fears of aloneness or if he found that those were only stories made up in his mind. Or, did he vanish into the big, beautiful nothingness where no beliefs are real?

I found out about Jason after reading this poem that was sent to me yesterday:

Alone for the Fifth Day

When I look at the ocean for a long time, the blue

and restless driven waves, I keep looking, I keep looking,
I keep looking at the waves swaying in the wind

like a metronome, wired for the sound of a sleeping heart,

and I keep looking with the silence of the sun
on the windowpane, and I keep looking and do not stop

looking deeper into waves as if into the middle

of a woman's body, where the soul and spirit
have no human bonds, and I begin never to turn away

from looking though I am frightened but keep looking

beyond what I know until I can hardly think or breathe
because I have arrived, with the need to be me disappearing

into the beautiful waves, reflecting no one, nothing, no one.

- Jason Shinder

Poetic Healing

2010-12-12T08:24:00.000-07:00

Reading The Sun Magazine before falling asleep last night warmed my heart.

This article about poetry spoke to me, so I decided to call on the few poems that still rent apartments in my head. Throughout the night, they comforted me in my confusion and grief.

And at one point, I visited all of my family members and wished them happiness, seeing that I have no idea what that means to another and being real fine with that.

It mostly seems that there is no rhyme or reason to things (although maybe there is, but I can't see it). Poetry brings us together so we're not so alone in the Don't Know. It even makes the Don't Know beautiful and friendly. Intimate.

I think this will be the next poem that I will allow to take up residence in my noggin:

WHAT TO REMEMBER WHEN WAKING

In that first
hardly noticed
moment
to which you wake,
coming back
to this life
from the other
more secret,
moveable
and frighteningly
honest
world
where everything
began,
there is a small
opening
into the new day
which closes
the moment
you begin
your plans.

What you can plan
is too small
for you to live.

What you can live
wholeheartedly
will make plans
enough
for the vitality
hidden in your sleep.

To be human
is to become visible
while carrying
what is hidden
as a gift to others.

To remember
the other world
in this world
is to live in your
true inheritance.

You are not
a troubled guest
on this earth,
you are not
an accident
amidst other accidents
you were invited
from another and greater
night
than the one
from which
you have just emerged.

Now, looking through
the slanting light
of the morning
window toward
the mountain
presence
of everything
that can be,
what urgency
calls you to your
one love? What shape
waits in the seed
of you to grow
and spread
its branches
against a future sky?

Is it waiting
in the fertile sea?
In the trees
beyond the house?
In the life
you can imagine
for yourself?
In the open
and lovely
white page
on the waiting desk?

- David Whyte

Happiness

2010-12-11T18:02:00.000-07:00

Today was a day to fill myself up. Have forgotten about fun and friends for too long. I called a friend and we went out to breakfast, then I stood with our Women in Black vigil. Much healing occurred.

Sometimes it takes another person to straighten out our crooked eyes, so the time shared at breakfast was more than food for the belly. And I realized that virtual hugs are awesome, but the real human thing cannot be replaced.

I have not mentioned that Mr. Carol For Peace has been out of town for most of the great adventure that has taken place this past week. So there have been no hugs and no one but me to take care of Buddha. Good thing the Buddha is so appropriately named. He has been an understanding and supportive companion at all times.

While standing vigil alongside a street full of holiday shoppers, something within me opened up. We are a group of women dressed all in black as a sign of mourning for the atrocities of war. Today I could no longer be in a place of mourning. I wanted to wish happiness to each driver and passenger. I wanted happiness. I wanted happiness for my family. We can have happiness even when we have no health or wealth and when the situations of the world are not to our liking. We can be happy with those who oppose what we say. We can be happy just for the sake of being happy. No conditions are required, being happy just because we are alive.

It was all so beautiful. I couldn't help but to smile. A lot. I connected with drivers and and pedestrians, not with words, but with eyes - in a deep, human connection.

"Sometimes your joy is the source of your smile, but sometimes your smile can be the source of your joy."
— Thich Nhat Hanh

Happiness right now IS peace.

"Each moment is a chance for us to make peace with the world, to make peace possible for the world, to make happiness possible for the world."
— Thich Nhat Hanh (Teachings on Love)

(You have my permission to remind me of this post the next time I lose my footing, okay?)

Dropping Some Dimes

2010-12-10T09:56:00.002-07:00

As I have been following Reed of "A Year of Giving", I picked up the quote below. Been meaning to post it and also to start leaving dimes in various places, but I've been a little distracted. I haven't researched any further on this, but it makes sense to me.

    According to one experiment conducted by Isen and Levin, experimenters looked for helping behavior in unaware subjects after they left a public phone-booth. Whether or not the individuals helped a person in need was found significantly influenced by whether or not one had just found a dime in the phone-booth. In the initial experiment, the results for the 41 subjects are as follows (Doris 2002, 30):

    Found Dime: (14 exhibited helping behavior, 2 did not exhibit helping behavior)
    Didn’t Find Dime: (1 exhibited helping behavior, 24 did not exhibit helping behavior)

    These results suggest that morally significant behavior such as helping another in need depends largely on minute factors of the situation that are not in the control of the agent.

It doesn't take much to bring out the best in people. Gives me so many ideas about spreading kindness!

~~~~

On the family front, everyone got sleep last night! I got ten hours! Stockpiling that stuff up for the lean times...

Yesterday (or the day before, can't remember) I told you about Amanda, the daytime caregiver who is Native. Well, the nighttime woman is also Native. Only she hasn't told me that: I just know. She is young. And get this: She works twelve hour shifts - from 7 pm. until 7 am, THEN she goes to college! Holy jamoley. I have to think of her any time I don't believe I can do something. She is studying to be a Physician's Assistant! We are so lucky to have her, and the world is lucky to have this wonderful woman in the area of healthcare.

Maybe my dad is just doing this sick thing so that I can meet all of these angels...

:-)

This Sucks, And Other Fun Thoughts

2010-12-09T10:17:00.000-07:00

Was I the one who wrote about this being a PRIVILEGE?

Never mind me. I must have been out of my mind.

Last night I was thinking of the saying "wrung out and hung up to dry" and I added "...in the desert with vultures picking me apart".

I never want to do this again.

I never thought I would say it, but dementia sucks big time.

~~~~

We have had three shifts of caretakers since my dad has been home from the hospital.

Amanda is the daytime caretaker. She is 50-ish, short, somewhat round, with graying hair put up in a bun. She took no time in telling me that she is Native. I loved that. Me, Ms. White Scotch Irish, would have said Native American, but now I think that that is an insult. Her ancestors were here before any America could be tacked on. That's our story, not theirs.

Amanda was raised by her grandfather, a medicine man. She sits by my dad and does beading for her grandchildren who are all Native dancers. The photos of her grandson and granddaughter in full regalia are works of art.

She is totally my idea of Grandmother. Powerful. Wise.

She is teaching her grandchildren the Native ways. How lucky they are!

When a grandson's classmates were making fun of him for his long hair, calling him a girl (like they used to do to my boyfriend in the early 70s) she gave the principal an offer: She would speak to the class about her heritage for 1 1/2 hours for free. The principal set it up. Amanda asked her grandson to dance for the presentation. He did. The class got educated and also saw the talent that the grandson has. Now the kids think that he is one cool dude. End of harassment story.

I love her...

Privilege

2010-12-07T18:36:00.001-07:00

My friend sent me this little card yesterday and it made me cry:

Tomorrow has already come. I am no longer the daughter. I am a partner in a journey.

What a privilege to be a caretaker of my sweet, sweet dad in these most intimate of times.

Four Hawks

2010-12-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

Life was feeling overwhelmingly hard

until I drove to the airport and back

on the drive

four different hawks

in four different places

eyeballed me

three on light poles

and one on the branch of a tree

how can we forget

the goodness of life

when sharing this planet

with such majestic beauty?

I already know it's everywhere

even in times that feel hellish

there is something sweet to notice

but the birds

they give me more strength

than any super hero

ever dreamed of having.

In deepest gratitude to the wonder...

Milestones

2010-12-05T09:53:00.000-07:00

I come from a family of tight-lipped, "we can do it alone" people. To honor my parents' dignity, I have protected their secrets. At my own expense. It's hard for them to accept community and support, and as I play along with their story, I am not able to receive the support that would be helpful for me.

Now it's all breaking down.

Less than six months ago, my dad and his four brothers were all here with us. As of last night, three of the five have passed on. My dad and his youngest brother are all that are left.

That is, if you consider my dad "here". He has been in the hospital since early Friday morning. I think that he is getting a little better, physically. Mentally... his dementia is over-the-top now. My dad has not been "here" for a long time.

Now that there is only one brother left - and he is a brother that my parents speak with a lot - I am free to talk about what's going on. I'm free to speak the words that bounce around in my mind.

My uncle who died last night was the uncle that I spent the most time with as I grew up. His family lived less than an hour away from my early childhood home. But in those days, the trip seemed to me like a 500 mile trip. You had to plan for it and give up a whole day. Well, I really didn't feel like I was giving anything up, because Uncle Wallace was the father of my favorite cousins. My cousin, Kathy, was the same age as me and we really had a girlfriend thing - almost like sisters. It wasn't so much fun with the boys. As boys can be known to do, they enjoyed picking on us girls, but now that we are adults, one of the male cousins is a good friend who I am so glad to have in my life

Uncle Wallace liked to camp and he was an excellent camper cook. I remember gathering wild strawberries and other berries (whose types I can no longer remember) with my aunt and cousin. Then Uncle Wallace made berry cobbler on the Coleman stove. Major yum!

And when my brother substituted a rubber hot dog for one of the cousins' grilled hot dogs, Uncle Wallace, who was in on the joke, kept a straight face as he urged his son to just bite a little harder, since sometimes hot dogs have tough skins.

Sometimes it seems like a line of dominoes got set off. As my uncles have fallen so quickly, I find more preciouness in the family members that are left. Talking with my one remaining uncle today, an uncle I haven't communicated with much, I find a new place of love and support. We are a smaller family now, so we have to take care of each other.

And today I let go of the stories of a need for independence that I have lived under for so long and I open up to the beauty of transparency and receiving love from wherever it wants to come.

Michael is listening to a video of a flash mob in the next room. They are singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

I dedicate that song to support Uncle Wallace in his liberation.

Pay It Forward Day

2010-12-01T10:54:00.001-07:00

I have to say that thinking about all of the possibilities, and then the logistics for those possibilities, is more fun than actually carrying out the Pay It Forward deed.

On Facebook, I saw that some guy named David is hosting his 2nd annual Pay It Forward Day today. I'm all over that!

And so are over 535,000 other people! Just think, one person suggests a day of action and a huge chunk of the world changes. Over a million people will either be paying it forward or receiving an unexpected act of kindness. And those are just the ones that we know about!

So last night, it took a long time to go to sleep, because my mind was sifting through various scenarios of how I could best use this PIF day. I came up with the idea that I would keep my act close to home. I know someone who lives nearby who is not doing well financially and because of that, not doing so well stress-wise, either. Today I will send the person a gift card that will help with groceries.

Oh, I am so excited!

I've been following Reed as he has journeyed through A Year of Giving. He has been giving away $10 to someone new every day for almost a year now. He doesn't just hand the $10 out of his car window as he drives by a person with a sign that asks for money, he gets to know the stories of his recipients. That has made an impact on me. People need food and money, but they need to be heard and to feel connection just as much.

Because I am paying it forward anonymously, which is definitely called for today, I won't get to spend time with the recipient of my gift. But I have done that many times already. For me, today is about not needing to hear a thank you. It's also about re-igniting hope in my recipient and offering the knowledge that this is a kind world.

Have you had any memorable experiences while paying it forward?

Look! Up in the Sky!

2010-11-28T18:50:00.000-07:00

I feel like a sneak when I go out the door, walking shoes in hand, sandals on feet, and saying goodbye to the Buddha dog because he can't come along on our hike to refresh body and soul. Once in the car, I stealthily switch footwear and become....

HIKER WOMAN!

I am pretty much over being sad about the fact that my favorite hiking buddy is no longer able to come along to my favorite places. It's at the point now where a woman has to do what she has to do. With me, there is a direct correlation between hikes taken and a zest for life. Even Buddhas benefit from having a sane momma!

So today Mr. CFP and I piled on layers and headed out early. It wasn't long before the sun warmed our bones, and hats, mittens and jackets came off.

And it wasn't long before we saw our first red-tailed hawk perched on the branch of a leafless tree. As we neared him, he took off in flight, first soaring in front of the perfect half moon, then sailing over our heads as if to check us out. A feathered friend of his joined him and they danced in circles in the sky.

If we would have had our cameras with us, I would have been able to show you the hawk we saw today - with a half moon shining behind him.

How can I express the way moments like that do my heart good, how I can feel the smiles go all the way from my lips, through my belly and down into my toes?

I'm remembering something my friend recently told me. It's a quote. I don't know the author and I can't remember the exact words, but it was basically that without wildlife, we would be very lonely.

I agree.

Letter To Blog

2010-11-22T11:39:00.000-07:00

Dear Blog, you are falling down on the job. Blogs are supposed to have words and photos posted to them on a semi-regular basis. You have been slacking lately.

I would help out, but I am too busy and wordless. You are on your own.

Right now, my darling daughter is in town. This is a busy week with time spent with her, time spent celebrating my mom's 81st birthday, and hours needed in preparing the Thanksgiving dinner for my phambly.

Other reasons that I can't help you do your job:

I really don't have a lot to say even though I'm having a great time.

I've started knitting another preemie baby cap - it should be done by the time it's too hot for hats, if I keep going at this snail's pace.

I'm reading Ram Dass' newest book, Be Love Now. It's nice spending time with Ram Dass - such a sweet man.

I think that I'm needing a good warm beach experience...

...because I'm here in cold Colorado bundled up and trying to stay warm with a thermostat turned low as we aspire to be good stewards of this earth.

If I don't find a warm spot, I will have to stay snuggled in my travel bag until the spring thaw.

So be a good Blog and take care of things until I can get my mojo back. 'K?

At What Point Does Someone Who Paints Become a Painter?

2010-11-18T14:09:00.000-07:00

And when does someone who (sometimes) knits become a knitter?

I don't know. All I know is

Whooooohoooooo!

I just finished knitting my first hat!

It's a preemie baby hat.

I'm going to donate it to some sweet little baby girl who I'll never know. I smile just thinking about her.

This is the first three-dimensional piece that I have knitted. Before this, I was limited (by my beliefs) to only creating dishcloths and simple scarves.

SLOWLY, the intimidation factor is being unwoven. I still can't imagine creating patterns like G.G. In fact, I can't imagine following most patterns. But a year ago, I would have said that I could never knit a hat. Sooooo I guess I am reminded once again to never say never. I may someday be a knitter 4 peace!

Oh, What A Day

2010-11-14T08:20:00.001-07:00

With four layers
of sweaters and jackets
on the top part of my body
and a double-layered bottom half,
I still shivered
while standing in silence for peace.

Only a week prior,
we stood vigil in t-shirt weather.
80 degrees.

Makes a body crazy, I tell ya.

Anyway...
I came home, warmed myself with hot soup
and even warmer conversation.

Our third "official" interreligious gathering.
Three of us in my living room,
plus one by phone.

Islam, Judaism, Sufism, and the Integral Perspective
all represented in one room
with the intention of
exploring
listening
understanding.

So beautiful.

Something happens that is
inexplicable.

The only words I know
that come close are

Open-hearted
Love

Dream

2010-11-05T10:25:00.001-06:00

In the mid-70s, IT came to me as a beautiful woman. Dressed in white and bigger than life, she held me close in what felt like the most loving hug/caress I have ever known. She was pure love. She was very present, quiet, and kind. She seemed like a Heavenly Mother. I felt enveloped with the pure love that came through her. That was maybe the most beautiful moment I had ever experienced. To this day, I can still feel it.

I have had more dreams since then. IT can come as a male or a female. Each time, I fall deeply in love, though there is not even the least hint of sexual energy. No, as great as sexual energy feels, this is a thousand times better.

Last night IT came in the form of my spiritual teacher, the man who has helped me to grow and learn to love over the last five years. My teacher is usually dressed in black, blues and grays, but in my dream, he was dressed in reds and blues and oranges. Beads dangled from his wrists. He hugged me and I felt that same unconditional, pure compassion wash over and through me. I told him how happy I was to see him. And because he was dressed so out of character, I told him that he was a wild man.

Do I know how to accurately explain the whole-body feeling, the every-single-cell experience of this unconditional, all-encompassing love?

No.

I just know that IT's real.

Far Out!

2010-11-01T08:30:00.001-06:00

I guess I'd better post something today so that we can all forget yesterday's Halloween post...

Mr. CfP and I just spent four days in the mountains at a quaint little dog-friendly getaway destination in Frisco.

Scene: Quaint, little dog-friendly, wooden complex of buildings with giant mountain backdrop. A dusting of snow remains from the previous weekend's snowstorm. Mr. CfP gets out of the car to go into the office. A man who appears to be in his late 50s/early 60s walks up to Mr. CfP.

Man: Are you here to check in?
Mr. CfP: Yes.
Man: Right on!

Right on!!! I LOVE it! Haven't heard that since the early 70s when I used to hang out at the park wearing my bell bottoms and playing Frisbee.

Whooohooooo!!!! Honey, I'm home!

It was LOVELY. Other than exploring the area by walking among the aspens and pines every day, we were kind of lazy. Well, actually, that would be VERY lazy. It was renewing.

I didn't even take a single photo! Lugged the camera up there and left it in its case.

But we did watch the Rally for Sanity and/or Fear. (Which couldn't have happened at home, considering the television here is solely for videos and has no cable or dish or any of that other stuff hooked up to it.)

The highlights for me:

Yusuf Islam (because I love the man)
Kid Rock's new song, "Care"
Jon Stewart's closing speech

Since I don't have any photos from our little trip, I'll just have to post a photo of a piece of one of our homegrown beets.

I dedicate this beet photo to the DUDE at the quaint little dog-friendly getaway destination. I think he'd like its tie-dyed look.

Ghosts of Halloweens Past

2010-10-30T22:16:00.001-06:00

Happy Halloween to You!

Head Wars

2010-10-25T11:10:00.000-06:00

It seems that my body has been at war with a cold for days. Most of the time it appears that a cold-free state will prevail, but then my throat complains or my ear squawks with built-up fluid and I wonder if the body will succumb. This battlefield demands a lot of energy, and fatigue strikes out of nowhere on a regular basis.

Experiencing the prevalence of wars - bodies against disease; aphids attacking the kale in my garden and then my intention to annihilate those pesky critters with a solution of oil, dish soap and water; our battle against the mouse invasion a couple of years ago where we strongly stated "Not On Our Turf"; not to mention the struggles between young kids when one kidnaps the toys of another - I wonder if war is not one of the most natural and fundamental actions on this planet.

Everything wants to survive and sometimes survival means stepping on someone's foot, or eating their kale, or bringing them down with a cold.

So what is this crazy lady's point?

Heck if I know.

The brain-fog created by this invasion of cold germs has not made me a lover of wars. I still can't condone the violence and killing that is being done by my fellow countrypeople - or anyone else, for that matter.

So where do we draw the line? Do we go no further than the point where our life is threatened by bacteria and we employ antibiotics? Do we stop at the point where the aphids die from our concoction, allowing us to have our daily requirement of greens? Or do we respond with killing when we feel our country is threatened even though we would never wage war preemptively?

Between the inner battle of germ vs. immune system and amidst the backdrop of the panel I attended a couple of days ago - a panel of veterans who are against the wars we find ourselves in - I am wondering about the views of war's proponents. I'm guessing that they believe that they are as right as I have been known to believe myself to be. I haven't been very open to hearing their views -kind of like the way I don't care about the needs of the aphids and mice.

Hmmmmm... Maybe it's time to, for once, put away my fears and prejudices and listen to those who see so differently from me.

We'll see if I still believe that once this head is cleared of all symptoms cold related. ;-)

Gratitude For All The Hues

2010-10-22T10:00:00.003-06:00

A few days ago, we went to a screening of Welcome to Shelbyville. It's about a small town in Tennessee and its struggles to come to terms with change as Somalian refugees move in to create new lives. It's fascinating to watch people come up against themselves, against their fears and hard-held beliefs of the way life should be.

We were part of an audience that included people of all races and nationalities, including people from Somalia. It was beautiful to be together, looking at prejudice head-on.

The world is such a rich mosaic of peoples and colors and textures and opportunities. Why would we want to rid it of any of the beauty it was made to have?

Speaking of a beautiful mosaics, here is what I get to see outside my door every fall.

Puts a smile on my face every day!