Letter to A Soldier

Hello and Happy Holidays ~

Right now I am sitting on the front porch at about 2700 feet looking at the mountains.  There is a cool breeze now.  Our evenings are getting colder, going to the thirties and upper twenties.  It has been extremely dry for months.  Crows are squawking in the background and the chimes are swaying in the wind. 

I hope you don’t mind me typing this.  My typing is faster than my long hand and there is much I would like to share with you.

My home is in western North Carolina.  Although I am originally from the Baltimore, Washington, D.C.  area.    I was born in Baltimore and lived several places along the east coast.  Fifteen years ago, I moved south to be close to the Great Smoky Mountains of western North Carolina.  This fulfilled my long standing desire to live in the mountains.   The Blue Ridge Parkway is twenty minutes to the east.

My town is just twenty-five minutes outside the national park which is west of me and is also the most visited part in the United States.  It also has no fee.  That is in part because it connects North Carolina to Tennessee.  

We have elk, black bear, coyote, fox, skunk, deer, raccoons, panther (though the wildlife folks won’t admit to it (because they would have to file a 300 page wildlife plan) many have seen them) just to name a few.  It is a quieter pace of life and I really enjoy that.  Western Carolina University is fifteen minutes away.  It is part of the NC university system.  There are rivers here, the main one being the Tuckaseigee, pronounced tuck a see gee just as it is spelled.  It means river of the turtle in Cherokee. Kayaking, rafting and tubing are popular sports.  This area is also part of the scenic rivers and flyfishing trail.  The Cherokee Boundary is twenty minutes away.  We also have wonderful lakes.

The trees are quickly losing their leaves.  The dogwoods are losing their rust leaves, the maples their goldish green ones.   I am grateful for the evergreens ~ white pines, hemlocks that didn’t get the wooly adelgid (bug), Norway maple,  which are always so pretty against a new fallen snow. 

I will close for now.  Wishing you a wonderful holiday!

To my readers. I have left out a few personal items to protect my privacy, but not in my letter to a soldier.  

 You can write them a letter, too.  Please see the address below.  Happy Holidays!

Enough Already!

I don't go on to Facebook much anymore.  Why would I?

There is a continual barrage of fake news from many sides.  Then there are the negative comments, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.  Almost everything is negative.  The whining is beyond overwhelming.

Are you on the triangle or square?  I don't know why I asked that because I don't much care.  I don't care if you thought the election consisted of three or four candidates. What really matters is this. Was the election a fraud?  Is the system archaic?  I suspect both answers would be a "YES."  But most of you don't really care.

As the wife of a physician said recently in response to whether she would join the Women's March on Washington January 21, 2017, "it depends what is going on in my life."  Face plant.  Right?

And this my loyal readers is what we have.  We have a society of complainers.   They would rather sit on Facebook, analyze the election, complain, and talk about how they are the disenfranchised.  After all, they are entitled.  Have any marched on washington?  Met with their political representatives?  Helped a family or person in need?  I don't think so.

They won't change much about what they will do. They will continue wear their trendy safety pins, don bumper stickers on their cars, wear a nifty baseball cap. And you wonder why the election did not go in their favour?

This entry has been hard to write.  I am annoyed.  Disappointed.  Exhausted at the laziness of these people.  It is one miserable post after another.

You won't find me on Facebook much. I'll be outside filling the holes dug up nightly by a huge raccoon and its three friends.  I am hoping to find a Hav-A-Heart cage and someone with a truck to relocate the destructive bandit and company.  Or working on a supplies list for the firefighters again. No doubt I will be working with people on a few sides of the political spectrum.  We will focus on making things better.

A dear friend who is a Trump supporter is doing just that.  He doesn't spend his time in joy over the election.  He knows there is a lot to do on both sides. He is building an older woman a new roof.  Patching a leaky roof for a church member.  Mentoring a little girl whose drug addicted father passed away.  Does he fit your profile of the OTHER side? Hardly.  You made up your mind who these people were long ago.

Get out there and act like a citizen.  Pay it forward and never forget that...

ETERNAL VIGILANCE IS THE PRICE OF LIBERTY

Wendell Phillips

Loving Lives

It is another glorious day in paradise.  I awakened to a beautiful blue sky, patches of white clouds scattered about and trees bending in the wind.  There are more leaves on my little patch of heaven than I can keep up with.

Another season is emerging.  But before the season can fully begin, we must discuss the old.  It is with the old that the new life is nurtured and the old released.  

I often think of the things that really matter in our life.  Healthy foods, water, air, soil.  Loving family and friends.  People who mentor us and people we mentor.  There is no order to that.  It is what healthy friends do. Family. They just love.  Life doesn't always go our way.  We have little control over that other than our good deeds to that endeavor.

All we really have is how we treat the earth and to the living things that live there - what we give one another.  Give from your heart.  Over and over. Be kind.  Thoughtful. Patient.  And love because our lives depend on it. Now and forever.

Fall Came Quickly

It's been too long since I last wrote you.  The end of summer often does that.  There is so much to do outside.  Especially in a drought.

I gave up on the flowers. Most are nestled in and the new things I planted in the spring are doing well. It is been one parched summer.  Spring brought a fair amount of rain. Maybe too much.  The rivers and creeks were swollen with water climbing the banks.  Run off is a total waste.

Fall came quickly.  The heat has not lessened too much.  This morning is quite nice.  A gentle breeze which seems to be building. The chimes are sounding and the birds are squawking.  Something is in the air.  Could it be another earthquake?

Simplicity

I like this stage of my life.  My friends are more open now.  More vulnerable.  Happier.  And yes, many are losing their mobility.  Physical strength.  Some are losing their lives.  It is bittersweet. The turnstil has moved another notch.

We came to age in the Vietnam War years. An awful war.  Innocent people were taken out of the safety of their American homes.  Some enlisted. Some were drafted.  All were scared.  It reminded me of the book, Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane. The night before battle.  Wondering what war would be like. Wanting to protect your countrymen.  Wanting to do your part.  Frightened for your life.  Would you come home?  In one piece?

A friend asked me to walk with her today.  It was especially warm and she was on break from teaching.  Both of us were dressed in long, hot pants coming from other duties.  Our walk was brief but we found a gazebo in town and enjoyed an hour long conversation.

A woolly caterpillar found its way under me.  Then there were wasps surrounding both of us.  After a while, the insects left and we could chat freely.

We spoke about thoughts, life,  passions.  Dissatisfaction.  Were we aging well?  Does it matter?  What are words anyway?

Two women in their sixties enjoying the moment. One another's company.  She returned to her wife.  I went home to clean and to caulk around my newly installed shower door.  It is the simple things.  Really.  Tomorrow I will paint a section under the newly installed on-demand hot water heater.  Maybe I will find someone to build a cabinet around it.

I do like this stage of life.

Too Many

The worst part about living in a small town is the loss.  You know just about everyone, at least by name, by association. They are members of this group or that.  You know how they feel about life.  That they are fully engaged with it.  You share similar friends.  Values.

They aren't in your 'inner circle' of friends always.  They are the periphery.  You might like to know them but it just never happened.

In the fifteen years since I moved south, I have lost too many friends.  Some close, some in the periphery.  You have moved fifteen steps up that ladder.  It is that place where you move on to another dimension.

Mornings come earlier and you don't feel like twenty anymore. You learn of people who are sick, some with terminal diseases, some with serious ones that have hope for survival.  I have been down that road too many times.  You learn there is hope for some and then there is none for others.

I can not count how many people I know who have cancer now.  Some had surgery, some are in varying stages of treatment, and some are now ready to receive tender loving care.  They are nearly at the top of the ladder.  They are all female in their late sixties and seventies.

Many of my friends are doing a Life Review now.  Looking back, many with smiles, some with disappointments, most enjoying the moment and their friends.  Life is so about stages in this culture and I just wish it weren't so.  It is less in a small town.

Many of my female friends admit they are invisible now.  Some don't much care, others have tears.  One recently told me she wasn't cute anymore.  She still wants to be cute in her seventies.  She knows she has to matter more to herself than her mirror.  The mirror only reflects what the advertising industry has sold.  She doesn't much admire corporations. She does admire eclectic people, people who stand up and don't spew corporate personhood.

Several of my close friends have serious, potentially terminal illnesses.  Ten years if we are lucky.  They have been my anchor in more ways than they know.  They would tell you this was opposite of how they see things.  So they we anchor one another and I am fine with that.  They know the history under which we grew.  Social pressures.  Expectations.  So many opportunities.  Far different than the upcoming generations.  We are the baby boomers.

And we are slowly going through the turnstile.  Too young. Too many.

September Surprise

An intuitive, psychic friend of mine posted this recently.  It deserves thought but should come as no surprise:

Two Predictions: 

1.  Something BIG is going to happen in September, likely having to do with disclosure and UFOs visiting our planet. 

2.  Also something with the elections that is very unexpected and surprises everyone - and everyone is talking about it.

St. Joseph

In 2012 or 13, a neighbor in the apartment complex where I was living gave me a St. Joseph statue.  He said it would aid in the selling of my home.  I mailed the statue to a friend in Sylva.  She drove to my home, some thirty minutes from hers.  She said she placed the statue at the entrance.

Just after I returned home in 2014, a handyman who worked for me found it in the soil when he was cleaning out a garden at the entry.  Somehow St. Joseph found his way into the shovel and loads of soil dumped over the hill on the right side of my home.  I call the area, The Point.

This morning, as I do every morning, I walked to the end of the driveway.  Smack center in the middle of it was St. Joseph lying face down.  Somehow last night, after the sun went down the statue was moved over ten feet from the right side of the entry to the left.

A filmmaker friend of mine is in post production of his film, Bigfoot.  I was reviewing the trailer he just released last night.  It is excellent and I look forward to its release sometime next spring.  But I am a bit perplexed.

This spring, especially the last month or so, I have begun to think about how long I can or will stay in my home.  Recent medical issues are making it difficult.  That the statue was placed where I could see it tells me something.

I hear lots of unusual noises at night.  Tapping outside my home.  Twigs and debris tossed at the house near my bedroom.  Rocks and stones placed along my driveway each morning.  Then there was the gift left at my door by a neighbor friend.  The gift fit nicely with all of the happenings here lately.

Is this Bigfoot?  Or is it the universe telling me to relocate - to make an easier life.  To this end, I changed some medications I was taking at my physician's suggestion.  Another week should tell me if this will improve.  If not, it may be time to go.  I don't want to.  It breaks my heart.

Then yesterday afternoon something weird happened.  I was outside watering flowers at the end of the driveway.

A few minutes before 3 p.m., two men in a late model truck (navy, I think) drive into my driveway. 

One of the men, tells me:

"You make great peanut butter sandwiches."

I stared him straight in the face. 

He says he is kidding.

Then he says he is with the Blue Ridge Company and has seafood, and has two boxes to give away. I decline because these people are sketchy.

They leave and go to the top of the road and make a left on to Hunter's Trail Road. They are gone 10 minutes. They come down to my road, waved to me and leave. The truck had no license plate.

A friend had called and needed to talk so I wasn't able to get a photo of the truck.  It was uncanny that she called just as the truck went down my hill.  She knows of the incident.

I wonder if this is in connection with the UFO encounter.  Or the mysterious man so many think was a Man in Black (MIB).  The lights in the house were left on last night.  I wasn't sure I would awaken.

St. Joseph, what are you telling me.

The Mirror Knows

I'm struggling.

Are we really that unique?  Since time immemorial, people have sought power and greed.  They need to be center stage, they have all the toys and goodies and they could care less about you.  But you already know that. If you have gotten beyond first grade, you know it well.

You also know about the bully on the playground.  Maybe you also know what lies beneath a bully - yes, the same thing that haunts you - lots of fear.  Bullies are anything but courageous.  And, it is sad. But no sadder than those who allow this person to be the bully.  The 1% of the playground bully garners all the privileges of the 99% percent who just stand there and take it.

It isn't my responsibility, or anyone elses for that matter to make the bully go away.  It is however, your responsibility.  That is what self-leadership is all about.  Standing up, speaking out.

I don't go on Facebook much these days.  And yes, I have deleted a few, unfollowed a lot and prefer to stay close to those who are near and dear to my heart.  They share, they stand tall, they speak out.  Well, most of them.

In a recent conversation with some folks I think a lot of, the talk came around to what is going on in the world.  I suggested that violence isn't new.  That it has been around since the bully on the playground.  Donald Trump is one.  He is here for a reason.

Most of the folks in the conversation said there are no leaders anymore.  I was taken aback, dropped my shoulders, softened my lips and asked why they didn't step forward.

"I am simply not a leader," but I will follow one.

"How would you know who was a leader," I asked.

"Oh, I would know," they said.

Paul Hawken in his book, Blessed Unrest, reminds us that there are no centralized leaders in the new way of being.  Richard Schwartz, Ph.D., writes in You Are The One You Have Been Waiting For, that the way in the new awareness is self-leadership.

I struggle with Facebook posters that whip out a few visual bites pointed toward the 1% that they are to blame for your lot in life.  The reality is, we need to look straight into the mirror to see our part.

Now we've all been around folks who get in touch only when they need us, we see right through them.  We don't put too much effort into them.  They are users.  The saddest of the sad.  They want us to do their work.

The past few years,  my time has been devoted to intense studying.  To do this meant to pare my social life down quite a bit.  To allow only a select few in, those that have a history with me.  Those who want more than a quick hit and run text.  The universe sees beyond all of that.  All of the Facebook posts that blame the republicans, the democrats, blame the 1%.  You wonder how the bully made it to the playground.  Look into the mirror.

Thumper

It's another foggy morning in the southern Appalachians.  The grass is soaked from last night's rain.  The eight lawn chairs weren't scattered this time so I won't need to hunt for them.

Before the rain, I watched for hours as four young rabbits enjoyed the clover on the lawn.  The grass is high.  The rabbits are delighted. There have been more this past year than in previous years.  I suppose not using fertilizer or chemicals make this patch a yummy treat for them.

When I discovered the adult whom I call Thumper,  sprawled out close to my studio window, I couldn't have been happier.  Apparently, Thumper has claimed this yard exclusively. Squatter's rights. At least for a time.

And, it is a regular and daily treat to walk around the house and gardens to see who has been visiting.  I can't be sure whether the visitor the other night was a fox or a coyote.  It may have been the latter since they are often seen in the cove.  Scat is also hard to discern.  Claw marks are not and they can be found high up on the side of my deck as well as on the new steps.  Could it be someone was interested in the fresh humming bird nectar recently filled?

That suggests a bear, perhaps a small one.  Maybe I will put the trail camera out again.  I am like a child on Christmas morning, waiting to see the gift.  The camera tells part of the story.  But sometimes it feels like an intrusion and I am left to guess all that may have transpired.

It is truly magic time!

Prisons

I've always been a visual person.  Even as a very young child.  I enjoyed placement in structures. Living rooms, offices, whatever.

Recently ,I thought about how we are always rearranging furniture in the prison of our minds.  Ode to Einstein and Ram Dass.  The novice is continually adding form until they are ready to do the work required within.  Until they are ready to release their egos.  And to stop running from themselves.

For several years now, I have had a purposeful solitude.  Limiting myself to only close friends, both in time and in thought.  Focusing more on letting others be where they are.  When the student is ready, the teacher will appear.  It works better that way.

Mentoring is my calling.  Service to others.  In all of its forms.  While physical service has become more of a challenge, and my physicians remind me to be easier on my bodymind, I am slowly allowing that to happen.

This fall, I will be doing workshops again.  My services have already been requested.  They have been for years but the timing was off.  There were other things I was summoned to do.  Be.  It feels timely now.

Detachment. Release.  Now.

Home

We Are All 

Just Walking Each Other 

Home

Ram Dass

Not The Flu

It is that time again.  It sure isn't much fun.  For as long as I can remember, age forty to be specific, it  has been a part of my life. And I have learned to live with it.

At first, I thought it was the flu.  Then bone cancer.  I had those things checked out.  I don't much talk about it.  There is no point.  Until recently.  Sometimes the pain is almost too much to bear.  Like now. It affects every joint and many muscles in your body.

A friend of mine who lives in upstate New York is the president of one of the chapters.  When we met at a UFO conference, she shared a lot about her health.  And this. She is a great support system.

It has taken a long time to fully figure this out.  Physicians don't know too much about it. I certainly fit all the characteristics. What you learn is to quiet things down and go silent.  You also come clean about why you have it.  At least, from what little is known.  It.   seems to be an over reaction of the nerves.  No surprise there.

Perhaps the biggest of these emotional characteristics is a lifetime of being on high alert.  With no emotional support.  Even though much of that has changed, my bodymind still remembers. It is frustrating when it happens and there is nothing anyone can do.  I knew it was coming on.

Yes, yes, I can hear you now.  Y'all think I am the pillar of strength.  I am strong.  And determined.  And vulnerable to the human condition.  And then I am not.  It comes and goes. You learn to live with it.

It has been quite a while since I had a flare-up.  One of the women I met at a UFO Experiencer's Conference in Portland, Oregon is the president of a chapter in upstate New York for fibromyalgia.   We have had some interesting conversations about it. I appreciate her support.

I haven't been able to open a jar for the past week.  That is one of the first signs.  It was funny to take a jar to a friend recently asking them if they could open it for you.  Then they see your fingers and understand.

In time.  This, too, shall pass.

Green...Seriously

I take GREEN seriously.

A recent travel company cited a town as being "green." There was no criteria for the selection other than a people's choice selection.  They selected things like an annual town festival originally designed for Earth Day, a few lame environmental organizations that have seen their day.  There was no analysis only a mere "vote me in."

A real green town would evaluate business and business practices that occur daily.  It would include sustainable business practices, educate and influence the "public to consider the goods and services they use in their own communities and to encouage more sustainable choices. "  For example, they would NOT use plastic bags at all.  Smoking inside or outside businesses would not be permitted, nor would tossing cigarettes and trash outside.  The town would be committed to these practices and they would be enforceable.

Here is one such organizations criteria for a real green community might be:

http://www.greenalliance.biz/what-makes-us-green

I love my town.  As a patron on many levels, I want my town to educate and influence the public.  It can no longer be a one way acquisition.  What makes people fascinated with a real green town is real effort to ensure it is.

Green.

Phones

Just the other day, I posted a question on Fb about the UK leaving the EU.   There were a few thoughtful responses. Kind responses.  Then there was a response from a person who until now, I enjoyed reading.  Without going into what was said, the writer was beyond arrogant.  Devisive.  They want public dollars to pay for everything.  And that just will not be a workable solution. But folks, that seems to be what we have. Spend away, take no responsibility.  How do you think we got to this place?

What we really need a a system change.  The Dems and the Repubs are not working.  They are entrenched in themselves too much.  It is always about them and not about the issues at hand. If you want to know something about egos, look at who in the public eye continually has themself photographed. Politics, actors. Wannabees.  Then look at with whom they stand.  Then look at who shares it.  I sure do not want to see it.  Why would you?

From all the belief systems ~ religion and political I have seen, the only one that really works is the Buddhist mind set.  Now Buddha never wanted to be an icon. Although it seems people need a figurehead.  I was gifted with a Buddhist beeswax candle from a family member.  It is dear because of the person who gifted it.  But with most folks, they need a figurehead because they can't be their own self-leaders.

We need self-leadership.  Standing up for right, helping people out.  I jest and say we need a revolution.  We don't.  We need the inner self to grow and develop.  To stand up, speak out without risk of their job or alienation of 'controlling' friends.  A real friend is someone who always stand with you.  The rest, well - they know where the front door is.

I have been helping a friend for some time through some pretty rough situations.  The friend is all over the place on so many levels.  It hasn't been easy.  At times I just want to shake them and say WAKE UP, the clock is ticking.  It ticks for all of us. I, too, have mirrors.

There are some futurists who do not believe humanity will survive another one hundred years.  I don't spend much time worrying about the future.  The present is hard enough work.  So I won't be spending too much time in the Town Square a.k.a Facebook.  It has become far too trite, a Peyton Place of sorts.  My real friends know where I am.

Just a phone call away.

The Tide Knows

I just do not know what to think.  How can I?

Mass murders seemingly more frequent than what I knew in early times.  More fear, more control, less rights.  Good people lost.  I think about the Crusades and the good people lost in the name of religion.  And the continual struggle of people just wanting freedom.

But none of this is new.  Many of our forebearers left Europe because of the rigid controls, only to come to the new land to usurp its resources, its land, its people, its life.  Are we really any different than those who sought to control us?

Sitting alongside an inlet at lunch, I watched the tide go out.  Perched atop a local restaurant, the undulating ripples told a story.  The tide comes in, the tide goes out.  We are told it is because of the
"moon's gravitational force pulls on water in the oceans so that there are "bulges" in the ocean on both sides of the planet. The moon pulls water toward it, and this causes the bulge toward the moon. The bulge on the side of the Earth opposite the moon is caused by the moon "pulling the Earth away" from the water on that side."

http://science.howstuffworks.com/environmental/earth/geophysics/tide-cause.htm

But "Most people grow up thinking that the tides are caused by the moon, and indeed that gravitational 'pull' of the moon is a major factor, as is the gravitational effect of the sun but there is another major factor, which is less often mentioned, and that is the force created by the rotation of the earth itself.


 http://www.astronomyknowhow.com/moon-tides.htm

Now I haven't seen any of this 'science' so like many, I am more of a skeptic than ever. Is it true?

 know what I was told, what we are told.  We all carry the "red" book in a way.  Propaganda.  Behave and follow the system. But can we really know the answers? The truth?

But the system has let us down.  It doesn't care for all people. It never did.  Red people, black people, yellow people, straight people, gay, lesbian, transgender people.  Nor does it care for non-human living things like animals, dogs, cats, raccoons, skunks.  It is set up by and for white men.  Nor does the 'system' protect them.  It only protects what the current power structure sees as valuable.

How sad for them that they don't know my friends.  And all the possibilities that were lost at the Orlando club, and in the civil rights march, in domestic violent, in these continual and senseless wars.  As sad as it is for the families - the devastating effects are worse for all of us.  The negative energy is palpable.

As I look around the planet, I see so much oppression.   New greed, new power mongers try to get in. Those in power continue to usurp it. Everyone wants a piece of the action.  We even sell land.  Land?  Can anyone really OWN land or anything.  It all comes from the earth.  Yet, we continue to sell it, to sell mineral rights, to drill baby drill.  We sell animals, plants, food stuff propagated from the earth and we have sold and continue to sell people.

I think about all the people, many at the dawn of their lives who were only trying to hang out with their community.  They were senselessly murdered for being who they are.  Flags everywhere are flying at half staff.  But that is only a token gesture. A silent one.

Sitting at my table by the window , I see the tide go in and the tide go out.  But the tide, like the people have memories. Memories are stored for a time when it isn't so painful to remember.

For now.  Forever.

In The Garden

"I'm nearly packed," I told my mom.

She had gotten her first National Science Foundation Grant and stipend to study science that summer of 1965.  This year she would study geology.

Our next door neighbor agreed to take care of Humphrey for us.  We would be gone for two months.  The grant paid a stipend for six weeks.  We would take one week to get out to Ephram, Utah and another week to come home.

Two months before, I saw my father back a U-Haul into our tiny Woodlawn driveway to pick up his things.  He and my mother were filing for divorce after twenty-five years of marriage.  I don't recall any affection between the two of them.  They did stand by one another and worked on a few projects around the house.  But Good Friday, 1965 was a day I would never forget.  No warning, no explanation.

In truth, it was a good thing my parents divorced.  Dad was not happy with mom and often would go months without speaking to me for no reason.  Mom was irritable, turse and lacked significant warmth.  However, she was a very good person and I learned a lot from her.

But the return from the trip would forever stay in my mind.  I was happy to be home, happy to begin my sophomore year in high school.  Happy to see Humphrey.

I ran into the house and looked for him in the tiny plastic water filled aquarium.  But the aquarium wasn't on the counter as it often was.  Just as I opened the back door to allow fresh air to come into the house that had been closed up all summer what I saw would be forever on my mind.

My cat greeted me quickly enough as she was outside waiting to come in.  I don't remember questioning her care which was to be done by our next door neighbor, Miss Mary.  I did see the cat food can sitting on the stove.  The plastic aquarium where Humphrey lived was also on the stove. It seemed quite odd to see Humphrey's house without him inside.  I suspected perhaps the aquarium had broken.   Inside that was an empty can of Ken-L-Ration.  That is what we fed our cat.  Atop the can which was filled with garbage was Humphrey.

Humphrey?!

How cold and callus.  Putting my expired and beloved turtle in a can with garbage underneath him.  Miss Mary was never my favorite person.  She and my mom shared a love of English literature - Chaucer, Agatha Christie novels and the like.  I don't remember her having a love of animals.  And, I certainly did not that day or for the rest of my life.

Clever.  That is what my Mom said of Miss Mary.  She found her a remarkably talented woman.  I found her totally devoid of warmth.

After my things were removed from our family car, I found a box for Humphrey.  I covered it with foil.  Even at age fifteen, you want to give your beloved turtle a proper send-off.  I laid him to rest, with a few prayers just outside our front door in the garden.

I think of Humphrey often.  Some fifty plus years later, I am still appalled about his demise.  Did Miss Mary forget to keep water in his shallow aquarium?  Did she forget to feed him?  I will never know the answers.  I do suspect she did at least one of the two.  Especially since he was found atop an empty trash filled can of Ken-L-Ration.

Humphrey Buck Turtle, I will never forget you.

Byron Katie Rings The Bell. Again

A doctor once took a sample of my blood and came back to me with a long face. He said he was bringing bad news; he was very sorry, but I had cancer. Bad news? I couldn’t help laughing. When I looked at him, I saw that he was quite taken aback. Not everyone understands this kind of laughter. Later, it turned out that I didn’t have cancer, and that was good news too.

The truth is that until we love cancer, we can’t love life. It doesn’t matter what symbols we use—poverty, loneliness, loss—it’s the concepts of good and bad that we attach to them that make us suffer. I was sitting once with a friend who had a huge tumor, and the doctors had given her just a few weeks to live. As I was leaving her bedside, she said, “I love you,” and I said, “No, you don’t. You can’t love me until you love your tumor. Every concept that you put onto that tumor, you’ll eventually put onto me. The first time I don’t give you what you want, or threaten what you believe, you’ll put that concept onto me.” This might sound harsh, but my friend had asked me to always tell her the truth. The tears in her eyes were tears of gratitude, she said.

No one knows what’s good and what’s bad. No one knows what death is. Maybe it’s not a something; maybe it’s not even a nothing. It’s the pure unknown, and I love that. We imagine that death is a state of being or a state of nothingness, and we frighten ourselves with our own concepts. I’m a lover of what is: I love sickness and health, coming and going, life and death. I see life and death as equal. Reality is good; so death must be good, whatever it is, if it’s anything at all.

Until you experience death as a gift, your work’s not done. So if you’re afraid of it, that shows you what to question next. There’s nothing else to do; you’re either believing these childish stories, or you’re questioning them—there’s no other choice. What’s not okay about dying? You close your eyes every night, and you go to sleep. People look forward to it; some people actually prefer that part. And that’s as bad as it gets, except for your belief that says there’s something else. Before a thought, there’s no one, nothing—only peace that doesn’t even recognize itself as peace.

What I know about dying is that when there’s no escape, when you know that no one is coming to save you, there’s no fear. You just don’t bother. The worst thing that can happen on your deathbed is a belief. Nothing worse than that has ever happened. So if you are lying on your deathbed and the doctor says it’s all over for you and you believe him, all the confusion stops. You no longer have anything to lose. And in that peace, there is only you.

People who know there’s no hope are free; decisions are out of their hands. It has always been that way, but some people have to die bodily to find out. No wonder they smile on their deathbeds. Dying is everything they were looking for in life: they’ve given up the delusion of being in charge. When there’s no choice, there’s no fear. They begin to realize that nothing was ever born but a dream and nothing ever dies but a dream.

When you’re clear about death, you can be totally present with someone who’s dying, and no matter what kind of pain she appears to be experiencing, it doesn’t affect your happiness. You’re free to just love her, to hold her and care for her, because it’s your nature to do that. To come to that person in fear is to teach fear: she looks into your eyes and gets the message that she is in deep trouble. But if you come in peace, fearlessly, she looks into your eyes and sees that whatever is happening is good.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/byron-katie/bad-newsyou-have-cancer_b_10070892.html

Summertime

It's been a week and a half since I left for coastal Maine.  The first few days immediately feels like a vacation.   Then there is the process of settling in.  Getting things to work properly (which is often the  reason you left in the first place - so you don't have to get things to work), finding grocery stores, setting up your post office box, finding quaint shops and places to do your art.

Interspersed between these things is babysitting, helping family organize their lives and catching up with friends - both back home and here.  Two days ago it was steaming hot.  I took a walk with family in the woods. We were soaked upon our return.  Not from rain but from pure sweat.  We won't do that again, unless it is in the early morning.

It was hot that night and I couldn't sleep too well.  I awakened in the middle of the night to the most delightful sounds of rain against the wooden cabin.  Music to my ears!

Early morning brought a light jacket.  I went out to my pine sap covered car with spigs of pine needles and twirlies (that is what we call them) from deciduous trees and pollen everywhere.  I went through that three weeks ago in the south.  Sudafed is my constant companion. Again.

Soon, my hair will be shorter.  It is easier in this area with the humidity.  I learned that living here for several years.  It may even be a different color.  Summer experimentation time!

I do miss my coveted privacy.  Being a scorpio and all.  But I think the trade-off of summering here and being near friends and family will make up for it.

It is back for a nap.  Pretty soon my sleep will be caught up.  I am grateful to be sleeping longer hours now.

Happy Summer!

Hampton Inn

Happiness is remembering a time when things were just pleasant.  You could check into a hotel, anyone under the chain name and be assured of certain services.   That is why you chose to pay higher rates.

But in the greed of corporate America, that isn't so anymore.  It used to be you got points and they were not stolen by the corporation from you.  It used to be they would notify you if your points were going to expire.  It used to be that you could call Customer Care, ascertain the number of points you had, and their expiration and you could count on the company to honor that.

Not anymore.  I lost too many points a few days after I called to ensure my points had another year. For a time, I stopped staying at this corporation hotel.  It went downhill excessively then climbed back up.  I am sad to report my stays there are uneven.

No cookies on the weekend, newspapers run out fast, coffee is weak, heavily watered down, breakfast is sugary items like sweet breads, fatty sausage and bacon, no biscuits and not all the amenities are present in each hotel.  No tv guide, no extra toilet tissue (I even had a near bare roll on my last visit to a hotel in Sturbridge, Massachusetts) with a spare on the shelf. I suspect a few things are going on.  Housekeeping staff is overworked.  Corporate greed is cutting back on services.

I will stay in fewer and fewer hotels.  I may even seek upper tier ones in the future.  When I vacation, I do expect service. I always leave my room immaculate.  I expect the same when I check in.

I do expect Hampton Inn to compensate me according to their "100% guarantee satisfaction or refund".  Not like the one in the above mentioned site like the manager's clerk who called me yesterday to offer me a free night.

Are you kidding me?

Three Knocks

"What? They are making another drop?" Beth asked.

"Yes, we heard it is by the Naval Prison in Portsmouth," the voice whispered.

"Okay, I am heading in that direction so I will check it out," Beth said.

Suddenly there he was.

While you can't see it now, a tall and slender man dressed in a Naval Officer's uniform, dropped an envelope alongside of one of the grave markers.  Slowly, he turned his head side to side before he tilted it upward.  A few sniffles later, the man was back in his shiny black Mercedes.  

The envelope he dropped was quickly fingered by what appeared to be an Appalachian Trail through hiker. The hiker was clearly out breath, and even at a distance she could see his month old beard, that he had on a tattered Arc'teryx jacket, heavy backpack with a Neoprene water bottle dangling from it.  He had on an Army colored tee shirt, short hiking pants, socks and boots. It appeared that he had not seen a bath or shower in some time. 

Beth was glad to be standing near the water's edge and not so close to his view shed.  The flowers she laid beside a flagged tombstone was also her camouflage although her great-great grandmother was buried in this cemetery.  But just as she laid them down, he disappeared down the other side of the hill.

Beth continued to photograph areas sites as her palms became sweaty.

She was remembering when this naval prison closed in the late sixties, and imagined the cloak and dagger schemes a few of the inmates would later tell.  Government prisoners aren't always in the slammer because of crimes.  Sometimes...well, they just have too much information.  Reminiscent of Mandela, they are better kept alive for their deaths would have erupted a revolution for sure.

As Beth was packing up the Canon Power Shot SX 30 IS, the man in the Brooks Brothers ensemble returned.  This time he was in a vehicle with "The Property of the United States Navy" logo written on the doors.  He climbed the slight hill appearing to look down as though he was waiting for someone but didn't want to appear obvious.  The Appalachian Trail through hiker moved in.  Soon he was in place within a few feet of the naval officer.

It was apparent words were exchanged but never any eye contact.  The Naval Officer reached for a small white envelope from inside his pocket.  The through hiker took it placing it inside his pocketed tee shirt.  Beth dropped to her knees, afraid she may be revealed as she reached for Kleenex from her Baggelini purse to quell her runny nose.

"Beth!" the voice cried out.

She turned her head quickly as three more Naval Officers ran toward her in a soon-to-be-flanking position.  She didn't know either of them. Though she had been writing stories like this before.  But they had never been a problem.  At least not to her knowledge. Her heart was beating out of her chest as she ran toward the Mustang. Beth couldn't get inside the car fast enough.

Doing an S-curve toward the bridge,  she saw two more naval vehicles were positioned at and behind the bridge.  She couldn't go back because she didn't know what was behind her.  She did know her car could spin around them.  Perhaps Beth watched too much of the Dukes of Hazard while raising her children.  This wasn't the General Lee but it could sure get her to safety.  A friend's garage was just a mile down the road and Beth already had her on speakerphone.

"Beth, the door is open, just get in!" she said.

Bo closed the door behind me.  She was breathing so hard she could not speak. She was glad there was no light inside the garage to reveal she had just pulled in.

Bo had these people on a high tech GPS and alerted the team to follow them. Just then her cell phone rang and it was Barbara, her high school friend.  She had taken early retirement from the FBI and was ready to join us.  She had seen enough to last a lifetime.  Now she wanted to do something good.

"I'm on my way.  I'll be in about midnight.  Three taps on your door and you will know it is me."

These Expectations!

I am feeling sad right now.  For the past few weeks, I have endeavoured to get some things done around my house.  Some things were done.  Some things will be completed in September.

What makes me sad is unkindness.  To living things.  People, animals.  And being foul.  Last week, a local restaurant hung a really foul tee-shirt up.  I can not and will not show you a photo of this.  I would be beyond embarassed and you should be, too.

What kind of people think of humor like this?  Maybe they also make ethnic jokes?  I go through spurts where I really need to stay away from some people.  And this is one of those times.  I also know we can change of foci and I am doing just that as I type this note to you.

My little granddaughter is beginning to sit up.  She is 17 weeks old.  Quite stubborn.  Determined.  And laughs a whole bunch.  I will see her soon and it won't be soon enough.

It is hard to be away from her.  It seems so much of my life is upside down sometimes.  But times are changing and people want so very much in their lives.  It comes at a cost.

I do not know how mothers can work full time.  It has to be a heartbreaker.  I know it is for me.  My daughter wants more than anything to be home with her baby.  But then, there is the balance.  She is stuck at home.  I say stuck because she can't seem to get out enough.  Naps and routines tend to take over.  So do babies who refuse to nap.  My daughter was one of them.  It was exhausting and now she has one who refuses to nap and then gets overtired and becomes hysterical.  I remind her regularly that these phases come and go.  So do our attitudes about them.

As I look at my way-too-quiet life, I am saddened by all of this.  Why can't life be easier?  Why can't we expect less of it?  Why, why, why?

I am also sad when I leave my beloved home.  Sad that I won't be in my space where I can do what I please with whom I please.  And joyful that I can travel!  See my family and come home again.

I am truly lucky indeed.

What Do You Think?

Defense is the first act of war. When people used to say, “Katie, you don’t listen,” I would immediately bristle and respond, “Of course I listen! How dare you say that! Who do you think you are? I listen!” I didn’t realize that I was the one making war by defending myself. And I was the one who could end it. It doesn’t take two people to end war; it takes only one.

The ego hates criticism and loves agreement. Actually, for the ego, love is nothing more than agreement. A relationship is two people who agree with each other’s stories. If I agree with you, you love me. And the minute I don’t agree with you, the moment I question one of your sacred beliefs, I become your enemy; you divorce me in your mind. Then you start looking for all the reasons why you’re right, and you stay focused outside yourself. When you’re focused outside and believe that your problem is caused by someone else, rather than by your attachment to the story you’re believing in the moment, you are your own victim, and the situation appears to be hopeless.

Your partner is your mirror. Except for the way you perceive him, he doesn’t even exist for you. He is who you see he is, and ultimately it’s just you again, thinking. It’s just you, over and over and over, and in this way you remain blind to yourself and feel justified and lost. To think that your partner is anything but a mirror of you is painful. So when you see him as flawed in any way, you can be sure that that’s where your own flaw is. The flaw has to be in your thinking, because you’re the one projecting it. You are always what you judge us to be in the moment. There’s no exception. You are your own suffering; you are your own happiness.

There’s no way to truly join your partner except by getting free of your belief that you need something from him that he’s not giving. Nothing can cost you someone you love. There’s nothing your husband can possibly do to keep you from loving him. The only way you can lose him is by believing what you think. You’re one with your husband until you believe that he should look a certain way, he should give you something, he should be something other than what he is. That’s how you divorce him. Right then and there, you have lost your marriage.

Of course, sometimes it’s best to physically leave. If your husband is abusive, question your thoughts about why you stay. As you enlighten yourself to what’s true, you may come to see that the only sane choice is to leave him. You may love him with all your heart and simply know not to live with him. We don’t have to be fearful, bitter, or angry to end a marriage. Or, if you’re not ready to leave, you may stay in the marriage, but with a greater awareness of how you’re abusing yourself by allowing him to abuse you. It’s like a yard with a big sign on the gate: THIS DOG BITES. If you walk into the yard once and are bitten, the dog has bitten you. If you walk into the yard a second time and are bitten, you have bitten you. This very awareness can change everything. By questioning your mind, you begin to realize that ultimately no one can hurt you—only you can. You see that you are 100 percent responsible for your own happiness. This is very good news.

If my husband were to have an affair and that were not okay with me, I would say, “Sweetheart, I understand that you’re having an affair, and I notice that when you do that, something inside me tends to move away from you. I don’t know what that is, I only know that it’s so; it mirrors your movement away from me, and I want you to know that.” And then if he were to continue his affair, to prefer to spend his time with another woman, I might notice that I was moving away, but I wouldn’t have to leave him in anger. There is nothing I can do to stay with him, and there is nothing I can do to divorce him. I’m not running this show. I might stay with him, or I might divorce him in a state of total love, and think, This is fascinating; we promised we would be together always, and I’m divorcing him now, and I would probably laugh, love that he has what he wants, and move on, because there is no war in me.

It doesn’t take two people to end war in a marriage; it takes only one. And if two people have ended it, life can be twice as beautiful.

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/byron-katie/it-only-takes-one-to-have_b_9810602.html

Cheap, Cheap!

Cheap!

There is one coffee shop I visit regularly.  The owner is well nigh known for being cheap. When she first came to town, her arrogance overwhelmed, hurt a few of the shop owners.  People were not impressed with her food.  Some offer a nick name "Chitty xx" for the store.

It is rare to enter her store where she would come over and offer a kind gesture.  Ask a customer to sample a food.  I let that go easily enough.  But what is really interesting is that she doesn't see herself.   She wears a shirt that says," Let's Make American Kind Again."  I try not to laugh.

Just the other morning, I was at the coffee shop at 8 a.m. when they are due to open. They are almost always open on time.  It was 8:20 a.m. until the woman arrived to open the shop. A home emergency made her late and I surely would never say a thing.  Life happens to all of us.  But I would honor my customer when those things occur.

It was well after 8:30 a.m. when she finally made me a vanilla latte.  $3.15.  I waited over thirty minutes for a latte.  Most of it outside.  I even encouraged her customers to wait because this was an unusual occurrence.

But what the clerk did made me think.  Most shops would comp a regular customer when they are this late.  Not this woman.  Not this shop.  $3.15 please.

A day later, I used my coffee card to get my FREE latte.  After ten lattes, the next one is free.  While the clerk was preparing my latte, I picked up a blank coffee card for my next visits.  I am a very good and consistent customer.  I bring friends here for coffee and for lunch. But this time the clerk asked what size latte I usually get.  I stopped to think a bit about this and told her I mostly get a small, but sometimes a medium.  I told her a medium would be fine.  They should incent their loyal customers with an occasional treat.  I do buy small because I don't like a lot of caffeine.

For five years, no one questioned the size of the free latte.  I have coffee cards for other places I visit in other towns and cities.  I am a good latte customer.  This all has changed.  Yesterday I handed them the blank coffee card and they punched it.  I didn't notice until last night when I was cleaning out my wallet that they marked the top VAN LATTE, SM on the top.

Cheap, cheap.  You are teaching me very quickly where I want to spend my money. Yes, LETs MAKE AMERICA KIND AGAIN.  Look in the mirror and start with yourself.

Thank you for the lesson.  cheap, cheap.

Excuse Me!

Excuse me!

Since when did a newspaper access the right to share my personal e-mail?

Apparently, my subscription online as well as the subscriptions of other online folks was due to expire.  So rather than bcc their customers, they chose to share them.

Once you share my personal e-mail or any of my personal information, any relationship we had ceases to exist.

But it won't end there.  I will share your behavior to this end, too.

Film Families

A heavy rain last night forced the tree pollen to the ground.  One fallen Bradford pear along the road near my house spoke of strong winds again last night.  The freshly scented air revealed blue skies and cloud puffs and lots of sunshine. Temperatures are much cooler with lower humidity.  A welcoming treat this Friday morning.

Another welcoming treat was the film crew who has been in town for a couple of weeks.  They are in town filming a story of murder in a small town.  And police more involved with the foul treatment of black citizens than finding the culprit.

Sets are unique.  Often a strong comaraderie exists.  Lots of encouragement from producers, directors and the crew.  The encouragement is both top down and bottom up.  Of course, everyone knows there is no 'bottom' only lots of talented people choreographed to bring to the big screen a story. Albeit, a big budget one.

Warm hugs, pats on the backs and handshakes abound.  The crew is full of smiles, appreciative of our small town and continually thanking us for being so gracious to them.  We are a gracious town and that is what attracted me here.  People genuinely care about one another.  We genuinely care about the crew and their comfort level here.

A location manager told me he is pulling together a group of crew members for a trip down the Tuckaseegee River this weekend.  He wants people to get out of their high stressed work and feel the goodness and nature here in the Nantahala National Forest.  He said he is staying locally and enjoys the quiet of the mountain.  A huge change from busy Los Angeles city living.

We are thankful for the heavy rain.  We hope it reduces both pollen and stress level.  And, we are grateful to see such loving film families enjoying the abundance of western North Carolina.

Tasteless Restaurant

One of the things I enjoy about small town living is getting to know the people who work and frequent it.

Just the other day a friend who works in a restaurant told me a story  The friend was hired full time.  The owner has a beautiful home and enjoys the fruits of an abundant lifestyle.  The worker, however, does not.

All too often we hear about the CEOs and upper management in Fortune 500 companies.  We hear the executives of these companies make enormous salaries, with enormous bonuses.  The people working in the lower tiers do not.  We complain about it as though it is a crime.  It is no different in a small business. For some reason, we don't hear very much about these environments.  It is no different and it is time we realize what goes on there, too.

This friend who was enjoying full time work had their hours cut.  They were cut 30%.  The worker told me they had not been able to go to a grocery store in two months.  They can't afford gas and their car is not working too well, either.  

Of course, I do not know the other side of the story.  I suspect there is some disharmony.  But I have to wonder what kind of owner would do this.  Knowing the owner as I do, I see another side.  A wealthy lifestyle, going like a bat out of hell to make a lot of money and forgetting the customers who frequent their restaurant.  For my part in this, I rarely go in their establishment anymore.

This one way ticket has grown old. Business owners need to realize their customers are their lifeline. Some of them even care about their employees.  But this place has lost its appeal.  The food never had much taste and the owner has even less.

I won't be going into this tasteless restaurant for a very long time.  Maybe never.