The Best Christmas EVER!

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

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)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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?

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

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

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!

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

Happy Halloween to You!

Head Wars

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

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!

I've Got Feet!

My eyes are too big, my nose is too flat, my ears stick out, my mouth is too big and my face is too small... my body is thin as a clarinet and my ankles are so skinny that I wear two pairs of bobby socks because I don't want people to see how thin they are. - Goldie Hawn

Reading that quote, I wonder... eyes too big for what?  Nose to flat for what?  What's wrong with ears sticking out?  Who said that all of these body parts need to be a certain way?  And if you can name the person who said that, can you tell me who anointed him or her as The Decider?  (Anyway, GWB already took that title...)

It's all about what we believe.  Not about the truth of the matter at all.

As a kid, I was told that soon we would need to get me boats instead of shoes.  Soooooo like all kids who don't want to wear boats for shoes (in the middle of Kansas, no less), I began to squish up my toes every time I tried on new shoes.  No one said I was the brightest star in the sky...

Since my wonderful son and daughter inherited the feet that can be used as skis when necessary, I decided that I would always tell them that long feet are a sign of intelligence.  I'll have to ask them if they believed me.

I really don't have a problem with the size of my feet any longer.  And actually, it's not my feet that are large.  It's these toes.  Finger toes, as they've been called.  They have been a blessing and a curse.  When I was young, I would use them to pick up things off of my floor when cleaning my bedroom.  That was useful.  The hard part about these long digits is that, still today, I don't know where I end!  I have kicked more walls and doors and vacuum cleaners and chair legs than I can count.  My toes are messed up from that.  I sometimes wonder if I'll be able to walk when I hit a ripe old age.

Anyway, more and more women have feet as large as mine now.  I'm in good company.  It's just that I don't like to wear whites or stripes or bright colors that draw attention to my feet.  I don't like to see big boats moving out of the corner of my eye and then realize that those are not boats; they're my feet!

Truthfully, honestly, I LOVE my feet.  They have carried me up eight mountains over 14,000 feet high.  They have taken me through snow to immaculate backcountry scenes that have filled my heart.  They helped me to pace back and forth in the dark with sweet babies who didn't realize that I needed to sleep at night.

These are the best feet I could ever have!  So, in honor of my sweet-smellin', beautiful-lookin' feet, today I put on the pair of striped, finger-toed socks that have been sitting silently in the back of my drawer.

For YOU, G.G. and Dancing!

(I think it's your turn now, G.G.)  :-)

Sixty Years!

We were awesome, my brother and I, with perfect planning and execution.  The day was gorgeous, cool and Autumny.  The people were warm and supportive.  What a beautiful moment to celebrate my parents' 60 years of marriage!

I did all kinds of things to set up surprises.  I secretly asked for friends and family, far and near, to write their memories of my parents.  Everyone I asked came through with their own brand of writing style and unique memories.  I put the writings together in a book, and I was once again amazed at how we each add our particular piece to make a beautiful quilt of life.

My big coup was to have an unexpected guest show up.  It began quite by accident.  The list of invitees only included local people.  But during a phone call, I gathered that my mom's cousin from New Mexieo just might come.  So I took it upon myself to secretly invite her and her husband.  When they showed up, I thought we would have a Kodak moment, my mom dancing and crying and Oh, My Goodnessing.  Instead, she just looked at them like Who Are You And Why Are You Here?  I didn't realize that my mom wouldn't immediately recognize her cousin who she's known for 63 years, but hasn't seen for quite awhile.  Once my mom did realize who this strange woman was, things did get a little Kodaky.  It was all good.

Mom and her cousin

Cheers to the couple who have been together for so long!  Through raising two kids (and I think that I truly put them through some challenging tests); through fun times and times of loss; and through sickness and health.  I honestly doubt that there has been a moment in their marriage where either of them considered calling it quits.  They have been one committed team for SIXTY YEARS.

The lovely couple

Haven't Yet Found The Cure

I'll be back once I get over this AntiBloggerItis.

I don't think it's terminal.

In the meantime, here is a beeeeyutiful version of a George Harrison song.  Really, this guy is impressive!

A Bloomin' Fence!

Photo by Judy DeHaas, The Denver Post

As I read this article this morning, I thought of 1) what a difference the little touches of beauty in life can make, and 2) what a great idea for G.G., even though she might do it in knitting, not crocheting.  And I know she would need to wait until she has finished her gazillion Super Bowl scarves.


 From today's Denver Post:

Her street name is "Esther."

She and her masked, hook-wielding crochet cronies have taken responsibility for the yarn bomb along a block of 16th Street between Wewatta and Union Station in Denver.

Her gang of five, also known as the Ladies Fancywork Society, made a chain-link fence warm and fuzzy, covering it with 30 panels, each 12 feet long and some 8 feet high, of crocheted flowers and garden creatures.

Blooms of vivid pinks, reds, yellows, greens, blues, purples cling to silvery metal.

It took six weeks to make the handiwork and 20,000 zip ties to attach it.

The crocheted garden sounds wonderful - I'll have to go down there and visit - but there is more! 

... this garden, with the help of sound artist Jim Green, talks to you.

"That's a great outfit!" a resonant, disembodied voice booms out in surprise salutation.

There are 17 affirmations in very friendly male and female voices, which come from solar-powered speakers triggered by motion sensors.

"Hello there! You look good today!"

There is always a double take. Some jump. Often a hand flies to the mouth or throat. Some people say thanks or give a wave of their hand.

I love it!

Happy Birthday, Dear Buddha!

Well, I had to come out of the cave in order to celebrate Buddha Dog's 14th birthday, didn't I???

This morning, Mr. CfP and I loved all over the furry guy and, in celebration, I shared some of my morning sauerkraut* with the birthday boy.  He LOVES sauerkraut! 

Last night, we started Buddha on a medication which was suggested as a result of his echocardiogram.  It already seems to be helping -  I never noticed his gaggy cough during the night and I haven't heard it this morning!  If it makes life a little easier for the guy, I'm all for it.

I was starting to think that it was sad that I can't play "rope" with Buddha for his birthday.  I can't chase him around the house like I used to and we can't hike for hours.  Then I realized that, for my birthday, as I, ahem, "mature", I no longer want to play pin-the-tail on the donkey and I don't want to go out to a bar and drink too much.  Who's to say that Buddha doesn't want a celebration more appropriate for his wise, elder age?  Maybe he'd rather just enjoy some sauerkraut?

My favorite photo - Buddha all ready for a 3D movie

*   This is how weird I am:  My usual breakfast consists of a small bowl of sauerkraut - either homemade or the good stuff from the health food store - and two pieces of dry toast made from Elana's Pantry's gluten free, almond flour bread recipe.  Super yum!

Back Into The Cave

Mr. Buddha just got home after getting an echocardiogram..  He has "a fairly significant micro-regurgitation" in his heart, a.k.a., "low grade heart failure".

Yesterday, I took my mom and dad to the doctor so that my dad could get his pacemaker checked.  The battery is starting to have less energy and after my dad's next 6-month pacemaker check, they will have to start monitoring it more often.

Most likely, my dad doesn't know anything about his pacemaker check-up today.  I'm not sure that he knew the details yesterday.

Buddha came home all happy, instantly wanting his dog cookie and a trip out into the backyard.   No worries.

My dad and Buddha are both fine - except for their bodies.


So why am I a blubbering mess???

If you want to find me, just look for me in my cave.

On Giving (and Receiving)

I've been taking a Practice of Kindness class on-line and it is a wonderful experience.  

The first week, we were to do something kind for ourselves. I found that I do that.  A LOT.  But I don't normally completely receive my own kindness.  I don't FEEL it, take it in.  So the gift I gave myself was to really take in the kindnesses I do for myself.  In fact, I became more aware of the kindness of others and the kindness of Life.

I give myself an A+ for Week One.

For the second week, we were assigned the task of thinking of people who have been kind to us and we were to do something kind for them.  I had someone in mind.  I wanted to send him a card made with one of my photos.  I found that I am doing so many kind acts for my parents that I had no energy left to get the right photo printed, write the note, and get it sent.

I flunked Week Two.

Except I didn't, because I do kindnesses every day.

Just not the one that I had intended to do...

We are now in Week Three.  I can't remember the assignment.  I'm tired.  Oh, yeah.  We are to do an act of kindness for a good friend.  Still working on that.

This afternoon, I will be receiving a wonderful gift of kindness from one of my massage therapist friends.  She offered me a free massage because she knows that I am doing so much right now.  When she offered it, the floodgates opened up and I bawled like a baby.  Her thoughtfulness was so touching and beautiful.

I just picked some vegetables from my garden for her (hoping that she likes such things).

Now, as an act of kindness for myself, I'll quit grading myself in this class!

My religion is very simple. My religion is kindness.
Dalai Lama

One of my favorite quotes:

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle. - (Plato?)

The More They Stay The Same

Two years and two days ago, Buddha and I hiked for 6 hours on one of our favorite trails, Hell's Hole.  We walked among the fall aspen until we were full and satisfied.

Last year about this time, Mr. CfP and I took my parents on a drive to Hell's Hole so that they could see the shimmering yellows on the drive.

Now...

Buddha can no longer hike.  He can only do short, slow walks at the nearby park. 

My dad wouldn't enjoy riding for the two hours it would take to get to Hell's Hole and back.

I'm amazed at how much can change in a very short time.


Then again, as evident by the falling yellow aspen leaves, everything is changing all of the time.

****

I was a little sad today as Mr. CfP and I headed out to Hell's Hole without my favorite hiking buddy, Mr. Buddha (sorry, Mr. CfP; you're my #2 hiking buddy).


But I got filled up by taking in all of the stunning beauty.


And Buddha got extra lovin' when we got back.

Waterfalls!

Icicles!

Mushrooms!

Flowers!

Leaf-filled ponds!

Lately, I'm feeling a more profound need to soothe my soul.  Like a sponge, I find myself absorbing all of the goody out of anything that reeks of renewal:  things like lemon colored aspen leaves, the feel of cool mountain air, the blue Colorado skies, and the nuzzles of a Buddha dog who is happy to have me home.

I'm a lucky kind of woman.

Today is the International Day of Peace

I have been trying to

be peace

in every moment.

If I can't,

why would I ask it

of this world?

Some Friday Morning LOVE

This is about death.

And it's not morbid.

It's about being alive in this amazing moment.

RIGHT NOW!

Right now, I see the sun rising behind a three-story maple tree.

I hear the ti ti ti of Buddha's nails on the hardwood floor.

I feel the cool September air on my bare feet.

What do you see, hear and feel right now in this moment?



My dentist, who is younger than me

and who I love as a person

even more than as a great dentist

has lived through two kidney transplants

and the return of cancer after cancer

among other hard things.

He will no longer agree to more chemo.

He may not be here to do my 2011 check-up

But he may.

We never know such things ahead of time.


Last night

I watched a video

showing the smiling faces

of high school seniors

circa 1970,

students two years older than me

who are no longer alive.

They didn't make it to their 40th high school reunion.

I looked at those 19 faces, frozen as 17- and 18-year-olds,

faces of those who thought that they would live to be old,

and realized that I don't know if I will still be here

for my 40th class reunion.

We never know such things ahead of time.


Somehow,

all of this just makes this moment,

this moment where the sun shines so brilliantly orange,

and Buddha's ti ti ti sound has dropped into silence,

and my feet are cool enough to ask for socks...

it makes this moment so intensely whole,

so complete

and satisfying

and precious beyond words.

Honey, My Ears Are Ringing

Remember my wonderful, marvelous, amazing Tibetan Bowl?  The one I told you that "sings in at least 1,542 tones all at once"?

Well, we have learned that if one lies on their back and "gongs it" while it sits on their chest, their whole body resonates, especially from their chest to their head.  It creates a deep, relaxing feeling.

We have learned that when placing it on bellies, the sound doesn't last so long - belly blubber is soft and stops the vibration.

When placing the bowl on the wood floor near our feet, then striking it, we feel a beautiful vibration in the soles of our soul.


The other night, we wondered what it would be like to "be inside" the bowl as it rang with its 1,542 tones.

It was other-worldly!


Disclaimer:  Try this at your own risk.  Side effects may include hearing loss, altered reality, and loss of friends due to the weirdness factor. Not recommended for children younger than 12 years old.  Contact your doctor if you find yourself with your head in the bowl more than once a day or if any of the above side effects should occur.  Tibetan bowl makers and the author of this blog are not liable for any conditions caused by the misuse of Tibetan bowls.

Now That I Am Here

This is what my dad said to me yesterday when I asked him how he was doing:

"I'm doing much better, now that you are here!"

Is that not THE SWEETEST???


My dad comes from a long line of people who have not had the reputation of being demonstrative of their feelings.  I don't remember him ever saying anything so lovely to me.  I'm guessing that the dementia that has invaded his mind might be a contributor to opening my dad up so that his sweet words could come out. 


Many people fear dementia or have other negative feelings toward it.  I'm not going to say that I completely like it, but I also can't say that it is a problem for me.  Truthfully, I often enjoy people with dementia much more than those who have no diagnosis to explain their strange ways! 


With my dad and I, there are no longer stories of the past; no unfinished business. He is one of the few people in my life who lives right here, right now.  And since this moment is all we truly have, I wonder why people think that those with dementia have a problem while those who are constantly living in the non-existent past or future are considered mentally healthy.

So far, my dad knows who I am.  He knows my name.  When he no longer does, I won't have a problem with that.  I am not my name.  As I get his food for him or help him get into bed for his nap, I can be anyone or no one.  All that matters is the love.

The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, nor to worry about the future, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly.  - Buddha

Finale

The end of my Michigan saga:


The day before I left Michigan, we took the Mackinac Bridge to the Upper Peninsula just to say we did it.  We had dinner on the other side - at a casino!  I had never been to a casino before.  Oh, my overwhelmed little heart.  Sorry if you are a casino type, but that place was like a bad dream!  I envision hell to be like that.  Sensory overload attacking from all sides.

This coming Monday, the 53rd Annual Bridge Walk will take place on the Mackinac Bridge - the bridge that links northern Michigan with the Upper Peninsula.  The Mackinac Bridge is the 3rd longest suspension bridge in the world.

While on the bridge

The middle lanes of the bridge are made of grating so that the wind can blow through.  We were stopped, due to some bridgework being done, so I opened the door and took this photo of what was below us.  That's Lake Huron through those holes. Looking down gave my stomach the willies.


I just read this on Wikipedia:  "On September 22, 1989, Leslie Ann Pluhar died when her 1987 Yugo plunged over the 36 inches (91 cm) high railing. A combination of high winds and excessive speed was initially blamed. Later investigation showed the driver had stopped her car over the open steel grating on the bridge's span. A gust of wind through the grating blew her vehicle off the bridge."  [emphasis is mine]


Glad I didn't know THAT while we were stopped on the grating!





This is the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island.  Rooms there range from $405 - $625 a night - for a SINGLE!  Oh, give me two of those!


I took the photo as we left the island on the ferry.  The movement and the spray caused the effects.  I didn't take the color out - don't know where that went.


Mackinac Island doesn't allow any motor vehicles, except snowmobiles in the winter.  The only forms of transportation are feet, bikes, or horse and buggy.  I kept thinking that I was on the Truman Show or something.  The silence was surreal and I kept waiting for the noise to commence.  Even though it would take this city girl a few hours, I think I could get used to the peacefulness.

Utah isn't the only place to find arches.  We viewed Lake Huron through this arch on Mackinac Island.







Lisa and I laughed and laughed. Five days of exercising the mouth and belly muscles.


It was great.

Dedicated to Joy

Feeling the need for some outside perspective, I called a woman I have never met, but who came highly recommended.  I was feeling stuck in childhood stories - the unfinished stories that can come up when we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of family once again.  After living independently for so long, only dancing in and out of family via short visits of dinners and holidays, this intense one-on-oneness, this role-reversalness  that has occurred since my mom broke her shoulder, well, it has all brought up feelings that take me back into my tumultuous teen years.  Daily heaviness, sadness, and tears have been my shadow.


As I hoped it would do, my session with the stranger gave me the nudge I needed in order to remember the important things that I already know.  


And part of the prescription that I left with:


Drink lots of good water
Eat lots of good food
Get lots of rest
Laugh a lot


Okay.  I don't need to do research to be sure that there are no bad side effects.  I can comply 100%.  


So... if you know any good jokes, feel free to contribute to my well-being.  In fact, this world needs all of the laughter it can get, so spread your jokes far and wide.


Here is a dumb one that still gives me a smile:

I'm so happy I could dance up the stairs... but I'm a Fred Astaires.

While I Was Gone

He traveled to Gandhi's ashram in India so that he could learn about satyagraha, wondering if he could use it to instigate equality for blacks in the U.S. It was 1949 - a year after Gandhi's death.

I never did find out many of the details of Uncle Ralph's experiences in India. I do know that he shot and killed a tiger while there. My family used to have a couple of tiger teeth we would show our friends - maybe those teeth are still in some box in my parents' basement. I know there is still a photo of the tiger's hide in some photo album, and I studied the somewhat decaying orange striped feline remnants fifty years later when I visited my uncle on what I perceived as a quest to learn more about the Gandhi that I loved and the family from which I descended.

While I was traveling in Michigan this past week, Uncle Ralph died. My mom told me during one of our "how is life going with the broken shoulder?" conversations. The news slipped right through my brain and it wasn't until the next day that I realized it and mentioned it to my friend. With the intensity of my travels, and the immediate overwhelm of coming home to the situation with my parents, I have not had the time to let the fact sink in that the uncle I knew best, but didn't know at all, is now gone.

This morning, I pulled out the thick file of Uncle Ralph letters.

I initiated contact with him in the late '90s with two intentions - one stated and the other kept to myself. 1) I wanted to learn, as close to first-hand as possible, about the Gandhi I loved. Even though Gandhi died before he got there, Uncle Ralph had been closer to the man than anyone I had ever known. 2) I wanted to learn about my heritage from someone with a voice different than that of my parents'. There is no truth to these things, only different perspectives.

Looking through my uncle's letters, I remember that I got very little of what I was looking for; instead, I received a lot of thoughts and advice about writing. You see, my uncle was eternally working on his big novel - the novel that was never finished.

In 1999, I even flew to Ohio to visit Uncle Ralph. I spent five days with him and learned many things, just not what I had intended.

I've grown in the past eleven years and I plan to re-read the letters in this file. I realize now that I wanted something that didn't exist. Uncle Ralph gave me what he had. How precious is that???

We can spend our lives looking for what we think should be, but then we end up completely missing the reality that is staring us right in the face.

Farewell, dear Ralph. Thank you for all that you gave your niece who has now finally let go of her agendas.

I hope I remember this lesson so that I can be more present to others in my life.

Adventures into the Unknown

Lighthouse as seen from the top of the Mackinac Island house that owns the beautiful flower gardens up there in my blog banner.

Mackinac Bridge at Sunset

From the outside, it would look as though my travels were about visiting a friend and sightseeing. But most of what truly happened, happened within me. I didn't know when I left home that I was taking off on a ride that would change the way I perceive the world in many ways.

I learned a lot about love.

I saw how much I tend to close down when faced with the unknown, AND I learned how to open to those scary, unknown things, only to find out that my ideas about them were much worse than reality.

I experienced and practiced total acceptance of others and myself. For the first time, I lovingly accepted this body and this being.

I stayed an evening and a night with a family that lives with love, respect, excellent boundaries, and the ability to truly enjoy each other as friends. So alive! So refreshing! I can't necessarily have that, but I can be that.

During much of my trip, I felt as though I was stepping off into thin air. I felt a tiny bit wiggly, but I found that I was 100% safe. That was empowering.

Why do I feel like crying as I read over what I just wrote? I think because the experience was so dear, so valuable. I am thankful for it all. I feel like the "real me" (whatever that is) was awakened. I feel freer, lighter.

We are all capable of being free from our ideas of who we are. They are only ideas, after all. Not facts.

Sometimes it takes a wonderful friend who lives a different life to help nudge us a little past our imagined safety net that we think we hide behind. The thing is, there is no safety net and we are always free-falling in this wonderful, beautiful life. We only need to open our eyes and hearts to enjoy it.