I AM HIGH ON PIXEL DUST

Perfect New Year's Day

2012-01-03T16:05:00.000-07:00

My morning began quietly and out of town, then a chai.

Then surprise visitors, crayons, pencils, intention-writing.

A nice walk, some tears shed, an excellent unconventional dinner from South of the border.

I am so happy it's 2012. Welcome to whatever!

Authenticity, and Needlepoint for Men

2011-12-16T13:18:00.001-07:00

We've all got it. And we shroud it. How silly, and unfortunate.

Be bold and unique, be yourself and relish in it. Take your 100 or so years on our little rock in the galaxy and what you do...and be proud of yourself.

Decisions to Be: Grateful

2011-11-28T09:59:00.003-07:00

Since that last post I’ve felt gratitude, and I’ve felt not so much gratitude. For several moments I have been down on myself: I thought I was schizophrenic, or too moody. Was I really grateful, or what that a bunch of lip service? Where does being grateful go when it “goes away”?

I want to remind myself today that above all else, gratitude is a choice. And it’s a gift. And it’s closely related to the word grace, also a gift, also free. Both will get you back to feeling good in no time. And when things are looking bleak, it really helps to remember that we choose to be, or not to be, grateful.

There are two speeds in my life I’m interested in looking at this morning: the speed of my moods and emotional states, and the speed of the actual circumstances I encounter in my life. For the most part, and save the occasional drastic shift of life events, circumstances move slowly. They involve mass, inertia, other people; they are physical and dense and seem more or less “set”.

Circumstances can be things like a partner, a job, a home, mortgage payment schedule, your childrens’ personalities — and usually they don’t change, or not quickly at least. But moods do, and do again. My moods fly around fast like little birds, hopping from one tree to another, her feeder, his day-old bread, flitting from one neighborhood to the next, one view to the next. Does this sound familiar: I love my partner, I hate my partner. I am patient with my children, I am not patient with my children. I can afford to go out to lunch. No, no I shouldn’t go out to lunch. I am happy in my home, it’s perfect. I want to move; this place is too small for us. My moods migrate from one expansive emotional territory to another, and they’re as light — or as dark — as air. Quick. I move through them relatively fast, and I often don’t even know what causes, sustains or changes them.

I can (and have tried) to blame my crazy moods on my circumstances…but this logic is increasingly failing me, and this morning I’m getting hit over the head with this realization once again. Often times, the exact same circumstances that may piss me off on Tuesday can give offer peace and joy tomorrow morning. So it’s more and more clear to me that my moods and how I feel about things aren’t actually a direct by-product of my outer circumstances. The circumstances, remember, are SLOW, SAME. My moods are FAST, CHANGING. So what’s going on here?

This is the nature of the mind. The mind — maybe not yours, but mine — loves to get its panties in a wad about stuff. I remember how excited I was as a kid when I was allowed to get a soda at some fast food place. My favorite soda flavor was the suicide. Remember that? It was every flavor: Coke, Dr. Pepper, Sprite, Root Beer, Diet Coke (maybe), Lemonade. All in one cup. Totally gross, and yes: we called this a suicide. What an interesting name! A little of everything in one cup = suicide. This is what I feel like when I’m all over the place, spinning out, trying every flavor, compiling it all in one cup to drink. Enjoyable? Tasty? Not sure. Does feeling and thinking a hundred different thoughts which cancel themselves out and contradict one another taste delicious. I think not. The mind can make me feel crazy if I let it. To the inner state of peace that’s ever waiting just under the turbulence of my monkey monkey thoughts, it must feel a lot like a murder…

What I’m aware of, and what I’m practicing on any given day, is that I COULD, theoretically, choose to find something to be grateful for. No matter how my circumstances appear, no matter how they may compare to hers or his…I could choose to be grateful.

This morning, I’m grateful for an empty house. Some time to drink my coffee in silence. An allotted space in which to do my creative work, and get organized. The same things that put me into a black temper last evening, two afternoons ago, etc. haven’t gone away. But what were they again? Rather than feeling crazy, I will just assume that this is the mind’s play…the ongoing drama…that we’re all eventually going to see for what it’s worth. Mind stuff. Fluff. Ego. Me stepping out of the mystery, the miracle, and thinking that I’ve got how it “is” dialed.

God: let’s hope not.

I am grateful for perspective, choice and space today.

Peek up through something in your way and take a moment and ask yourself what you’re grateful for? Just one small thing can help turn the corner. It’s a choice, and a [FREE] gift.

Grateful

2011-11-25T21:22:00.004-07:00

Yes: I have a belly full, some not much but some money, a loving husband, a nice dog who sheds too much, an old but functioning vacuum. I've got two door bell kids, and windchimes that are chiming outside my windows, open on this moonless, cold night, letting some fresh air inside and mingling with the heat coming off our new wood stove. One hard decision I made today was whether or not to continue with the iCal set-up, or move back to writing things down in the Quo Vadis. Analog, digital. Analog, digital. Really.

I note: if these are the kinds of things that are making me scratch my head what breed of fortunate am I not? It's easy to consider myself lucky a day after Thanksgiving. The gratitude pump is all primed and we're formally kicked into our season of abundance, overeating, extremes, intensity, socializing and -- ideally -- loving each other a little bit harder. For me, at least, it's a good time.

I've noticed, though, that my Thanksgiving seasons are getting longer, and longer and longer. They extend well into December and up until and through Christmas. I was at King Sooper's night before last and went up to greet all the cut down trees awaiting the crank down of dusty Christmas tree stands, dry heat, and neglectful watering. I inhaled their woodsy upbringing. I teared up and began laughing at the same time. I could try to explain, but I won't. Gratitude.

There's usually a little blip for me around December 25th where I'm American style psycho stressed and predictably straddling the love/hate line of the holiday season. Kids are helping me get over myself more and more. And then, after a lot of doing stuff, January comes and I'm grateful for the new evident longer days...detox, clean surfaces, new beginnings, that Quo Vadis I bought today. I have an intense invitation and impulse to de-clutter. I appreciate white walls, re-potted plants, simply steamed greens. I celebrate my birthday, I soak in hot springs with dear friends. And I reinvigorate my practices and good habits. January is a gentle, strange month. Somewhat of a let down, used to be, but actually quite welcome now.

And then comes pink and red and short snowy February. Valentine's Day is an easy target -- I used to detest it. But then I loved to hate it, I graduated to making fun of it, of lovers, of being a lover and calling myself "lover" and generally just overusing that word. But now I actually kind of love VD, and February, and making things your own -- that whole creative challenge. Feb 14 is my dad's anniversary and a day after my daughter Phoebe's birthday. It's such a short month, and wow: Black History month. Gotta love all of that. All months should be so lucky. And yes: OK. Here's March. Longer, dreary still, but crocuses start smiling nearby and my crappy hiking shoes are getting a breath of air, muddy soles, toe stank, some good fecund life stories.

School feels different for the kids, and there's usually a trip to take somewhere -- maybe this spring break we'll actually plan something? A little drive...a picnic somewhere new...at least sleep in regularly? Most people do this around now. I know what I'll be Googling tomorrow. In April, my other favorite month, Willoree will turn 6. It might rain some more. I love rain so much, maybe you do too?

I am beginning to plant rows of peas, Willoree will arrange them and sing to them. I am saving money for gardening things, cooking differently, and eventually I'll uproot (finally) last year's thick, neglected stalks of kale, collards, cauliflower. Weeds even seeming OK, welcome. If I have snow tires I might thing of taking them off, but that will be premature. I am grateful; life's running me at a pretty good clip. Where does the time go?

May is this harbinger of all things good, loud, yang to come. People are getting social, I notice. When I lived in NYC I called it boobie season. Warm weather comes and all the girls are wearing skimpy tank tops, and their breasts are bobbing all over the place as they walk, fast, all over the place. Probably more than 4 million girls = 8 millions boobies just out swaying in the springtime breeze. I guess I was one of them. Life's looking brighter. Days qualify as being long now, and we're all getting senior-itis in our own ways.

Perhaps Quella's shedding is under control. I am sleeping as well as ever, and eating and working and always feeling the balancing act that is my life. I am working out. I usually take out all the old Abraham recordings and give them a listen, a spring/early summer thing that has inadvertently become a regular thing with me. I am thrilled. Brewing. In love. Tilling. Planting.

Summer whirs, and I never know what summer will bring. It will pass too fast, but seem too slow while it's happening, much in the same way that parents I know have described their kids' childhoods. There will be teeth lost, words learned, miles traveled, new ideas let's hope and memories; aches and pains and a lot of laundry hanging on the line. Mosquito bites and fresh food, farmer's markets, small scrapes and overpowering heat and brown shoulders, more work, late nights, the sounds of box fans in the windows. Ben and I will paint the house, and read more chapters in more books...outloud, to each other, to ourselves. My practice is heavy and juicy and my hair is longer; I will wear new shoes that don't hurt my feet, throw the old ones out I've been wearing now for six years. I deserve some new shoes. I am so grateful. The whir of it all.

The fall comes and I breathe it in deeply. I think to myself: yes, fall is really my favorite season (even though spring comes and I wonder whether spring is actually my favorite season) and we celebrate Ben's birthday, our wedding anniversary, the little NM sunflowers that bloom for Ben and the splay of gnarly fucking 9" long grasshoppers are grossing me out hourly. I use Ben's September 5th birthday as a New Year's Day of sorts: a time to count my blessings, love him better, forgive myself all my asshole moments. I adore our setting, glowing and rich and flowers everywhere...colorful and abundant and home. I am aware and appreciative of the simplicity with which we operate and the complexities I can't seem to escape. I get the sheer retardation of my plodding. I drink some coffee, or tea, or a beer. Definitely good water. I stay curious about peak foods. I am uplifted, renewed, growing; I am still alive. And I'm grateful.

I moved to CO late October years and years ago and October's face -- a first snow, the smell of leaves against that impossibly blue sky, all the nuance of brown and tan around here, pumpkins lying around -- makes me twirl in my heart and head. I delight in the feelings of being in a new place, hopeful of a new relationship, living in a new home, another new beginning. October has become petting zoos, corn mazes, fundraisers at school and (by the way dear god please don't let me NOT buy a butter braid for Willoree next year or she'll be so, so sad) and going inside. I will head to Rebecca's more often. I crave sushi, retreat, and appreciate all over again the yoga retreat I was attending last year with my BBBBBBFs. I sell some of Angela's CDs and DVDs.

I will prepare for another November, as if it just happened yesterday -- and will not have lost sight of the "importance" of things like iCal vs. Quo Vadis. The ludicrous, sweet nature of being a human with planning and organization needs in the 21st century. The spirit underlying all of it, unchanging, unchanging. I sweep up dog hair. On my best days I am truly, deeply grateful. On my worst: I am overwhelmed, and forgetful of the shakti animating all, every, now. Even my lapses of awareness. The dog hair, like my soul, goes on. The CD is on repeat.

I might complain about clutter, have pant in wad when I'm running late. I have spent hours obsessing about which snow tires to put on my car. Dumb shit, life kind of shit. I peep down occasionally and realize that I'm a wealth of OK-ness. I'm one bad ass little boo bunny puja. Gratitude will not let up.

We can time travel as needed. We do it all the time. We might try the Mexican-themed Thanksgiving next year, and we hope to see you there. Hott. I am hoping that you all are doing OK, and if you're not, you probably will be again. Not to make light of any of us. Maybe a little.

I am grateful right now for this doing pretty well state I find myself in, and I know that it won't last. I'll hit some more walls, fall down, hate and curse and feel oceans of self-pity again, probably. And I'll probably dear diary about that, too.

PS Ira Glass: thanks for bringing a cheer, again, to my hour.

Mothering Source

2011-11-02T12:57:00.001-06:00

I don't have a lot to say quite yet about this wild and freeing project I'm calling Mothering Source. I am excited about it, though. Very much so. I'm just busy, like you are. And I need to find ONE place in which to pour myself. The interwebs Blogger situation is very rad with this new mosiac/interactive HTML5 gig. I play. All part of waking up.

My Mothering Source vision is to combine, write about and perhaps eventually teach about integrating seemingly opposing forces in my (and I'm guessing your) life: the desire for slowing down mashed up with life that seems to be speeding up. Meditation and silence with constant noise in the home. Simplifying alongside the complications of managing money, stuff, vacations, work, and self-care. I think it can be done. I'm trying to reconcile the books...make good with the flavor of god I've got. As much as I think on some days that I want to, I'm not leaving Longmont, CO with my fleece and down for a quiet adventure into inner space somewhere near Tibet. It's got to unfold here, now, and since I feel it happening, I know it is. It's actually the easiest thing in the world to get into...but it's equally easy to get out of. That's the crux. And that's why we practice...

While getting information at the click of a button is exciting to no end (repeat: to NO END) I actually find it annoying and overwhelming and, sometime, more hassle than help. It's like one of those loud ass toys that won't turn off. The lines indicating where to quit, when to turn down, how to unplug, etc. are really blurry these days. And we -- still human in most every cell I guess -- are pretty much fucking confused and freaking out. If you don't think you are, I would maybe want to argue with you...at least a little bit. Really, there's nothing that's making you hit overwhelm?

It's OK to go inside and be in the dark. It's delightful. And kind of hard when life presents this strange and perpetually sunny face of go-get-it ness. Not much of anywhere in modern culture do we support turning away from it all, though. Churches are weird for some of us, meditation and yoga can offer quick fixes, but once we get back to normal and the retreats/classes end we're back to crazy. And, mamas, are you noticing how your kids are doing in this situation? All good? If you're anything like me you may feel like you hanging on for dear life some days, or sad that your kids are being bombarded with marketing shit for a funner life from every angle. And you might want to sleep a lot. It's OK. Sleep is so good. It's actually quite natural to rest, retreat, go inside, play alone, participate less...can you recall what "natural" means? I do. I think.

The whole "householder" yoga speaks to this, but I think that term was created a long time ago. Among my shining lights? Well, who among them was living in 2012, with all this shit to deal with?

There are guides out here for us, though. And no guide is better than that little quiet, knowing place you call YOU. Make time for her today. Get still, be quiet, make some room. Her silence is really smart. It'll make you smarter. And it might make you cry, too.

Truly the desire to settle into the things that matter most is stronger than ever. This is something that calls me and I am doing it...I am figuring this all out in my own strange and unique ways. I borrow and get inspired from people like Maple Tree and Angela Farmer. Herbalists and people who smile and say hello to me vs. text someone else. It's a constant choice I'm making, and it gets so much easier the more I choose it. Truly: dropping the bs is self-resolving. It's like dumping abad boyfriend you are sure you're going to miss. But then you realize you actually so much happier without him. And so the decision is sustained.

Mamas: let's talk...

Summary

2011-06-10T13:53:00.000-06:00

From a talk I just heard here:

http://www.saintstephensrichmond.net/clientimages/47922/audio/1-01%20sunday%20first%20half.mp3

Emily Cobb...one of many who seek to help us "de-literalize and find fresh and deeper meaning in deeper in our creeds and beliefs.

Loving Frank

2011-06-06T09:49:00.002-06:00

Just finished this novel. I thought it was wonderful...one of the most satisfying reads in a while for me.

Presenting...the werd.

2011-06-05T21:30:00.002-06:00

This entry is inspired by a podcast I was listening to today. It was an interview of Arjuna Ardagh by Tami Simon, about his notion of "living a translucent life". Wonderful word, translucent, and beautiful use of a word informing a philosophy. The call seems to be this: how do we simultaneously live in our bodies which hold our unique pain, fear, all the crap...how do we honorably inhabit the Mary-ness, Ben-ness, etc.-ness of the human drama...while ALSO allowing this gorgeous, unfaltering transmission of very impersonal divine light to shine forth? I don't know. I try, daily. It's not that hard, I guess, although it's often scary and takes me to places that freak me out. But I'm committed to untangling this as my days roll on. I will add that I fully agree with Arjuna that so much of the juicy, personal, deep work which helps us shine is quite accessible right close to home. (Great news for me, chained to totally mama-ing, often "stuck" at my crib and not creating a lot of time for classes, etc. But I do go to bed every night with a beloved guru...Ben.)

Side note -- early in the game: Ben and I are "doing the work", per se, but also enjoying being married. Inquisitive, contemplative types like myself can get addicted to seeking help, changing for the better, ever seeking arrival at some place of deeper peace, stillness...............always out there, one more book, one more class, one more re-birthing experience, one more emotional release...........but all that seeking and looking can also keep the "goal" at an impossible reach. Ask me how I know? Stop. Start again. But mostly stop. And now? I get that "words", and trying to "understand" universal truths via language, etc. is a potential trap, too, but OK, yeah. That's a large part of what I'm trying to write about here. So bear with me.

I love the notion of melding of self and Self. I am relieved by the suggestion that, rather than running off to India or seeking permission and inspiration to surrender to the divine from someone who comes off as "higher" than we are (a common Guru/disciple gig, I gather) the work is here, now, present, and usually thrown in our sweet, sun-kissed faces by none other than our kids, husbands, wives, neighbors, etc. Since so many of us ARE wives, employees, husbands, mothers, shoppers, etc. THIS is our chance. This is how the divine opens up to us. We need not go anywhere! For those seeking truth, lok no further than the understated romance with very normal stuff like laundry and and wiping your five year old's bottom. These are tip of iceberg-y, powerful and timely conversations, I think. And I am involved.

I'm wondering what more I can do to show up in a fuller, more vibrant expression of my self and Self. How best to use my gifts, my passions, my ideas and uniqueness...to serve. My design business is wonderful in a hundred ways, but I know I will be expressing myself differently in the years ahead.

I am thinking about words. I am thinking about how moved I am by beautiful stories, poems, conversations, by writing...by Satsangs. How good to get a sentence down that actually says what I'm wanting it to say, or to read one. I love the elegance of mathematical equations, as I love the elegance in superb phrasing. Words are fascinating, to say the least. And they are so, so limiting. Especially when they're used to discuss BIG concepts like "enlightenment", "forgiveness", "peace", "love", "perfection". The bigger the concept, the more the word struggles.

But even limited, words are important. They do not comprise all -- but make up a decent chunk of -- the celestial conversation and human drama. Words seek to unify, but my guess is that if you asked 100 people what "enlightenment" meant, you'd get 100 slightly different answers. And maybe we'd all suddenly be pants down pontificating about what's what, what's real, what's the deal, who's got it just right. Interesting, but doesn't that get old? When words fail...we get lost in their shortcomings, too.

Shout out to the really good poets.

But alas, we're sort of stuck with them. And boy do we love to hear ourselves talk sometimes. They're like old friends who can prop us up, make another person laugh at the perfect time. Let's try to get better at the discourse, and perhaps personalize it. Let's personalize our language, deeply understand and pour ourselves into these words we use, so we can let them go...

In the interview, Arjuna spoke about a tendency that some "spiritual" folks have to avoid (?) our uncomfortable circumstances (inside and out) by reverting back to this "spiritual idea" that everything's "perfect." Shit happens. Feelings are hurt. Koko's sad. X triggers Y. But it's cool: it's all "perfect". Choose happy thoughts! Get with joy. "Joy." And "meaning." And didn't we miss something here?

What's in-between? I am so struck at how damaging, or confusing, this idea of reverting to an ephemeral, cerebral understanding of "perfection" could be. And, further, what's so "imperfect" about the things presenting themselves here and now? What is perfection, anyways? And what is its face? Peaceful? Quiet? Loving? Stillness? Do you have to jump somewhere to get back to "perfection" when it's "lost"? I know people who move around doing stuff constantly, but who are still, and I'm grateful that they are helping me see a little more clearly what "stillness" can mean! I mean "mean."

And maybe more interesting, what face of perfection do I find most comfortable, and maybe -- just maybe -- could I play around with eradicating that particular self-limiting idea and just face the x, y or z at hand? Thereby residing in the perfection of an honest moment? I get excellent mileage from that. Galactic speed, in a place where speed is irrelevant.

I was thinking back to a time or two when I was trying to "help" someone who was in a dark place with a well-intentioned word, or idea that -- oops, well shit -- backfired. My "good" words caused more confusion that clarity. I may be doing that here, post after post! But discovering how to be with words in a healthy way -- as a lover or words -- is a very real struggle for me. And I think that I'm not alone. I sometimes even shy in the reverent shadows that BIG words evoke...so much so that I shy away from jumping in, playing with how that particular word or concept flows with and through me, and thereby I miss a really good chance of "landing" whatever the concept was that the word was advertising. So yes: timeless concepts can remain trapped in insufficient words. And what good is that?

I meditate every day. Is that the same as your meditation every day? What do we think, what do we assume about each other that both combines and divides each others' experiences here on the planet?

We are all editors and composers in some sense or another. And we're all living in these very new, strange hybrid kinds of lives whereby we straddle things spoken and impossible to articulate. So be it. And is not all of it an invitation to experience "perfection"?

More...

This idea of "perfection" is a totally great idea. And of course, it's bigger than an idea: it's a great and discoverable truth. And as such, let's apply it to all situations, good bad and ugly, moment to moment, and really lean on that. Moments are OK, neutral, inviting. Just as they are, in sequential progression. If I'm in a tangle with a friend, and my body is registering tightness, blockage, my throat feels hot, etc. what is so scary about trusting in and inviting the perfection in that moment to unveil itself, and step me into the light? So what if I fall "down". Call it falling up! And resolve the tension. Free the tension. Relax into it. What's so scary?

I'm still negotiating this...but the more deeply I do, the more deeply I fall totally in love with this working, and very inclusive idea of perfection. The more I can let messy be OK. And the more I can allow authentic exchange in my life.

OK -- so this all started with this idea to serve in as translator between concept, word and individual. I think that if we can absolve our relationships with certain words, and the concepts they are trying to convey, we can actually jump straight into the concept...bypassing mental "understandings" of them...and more easily embody what we were after in the first place. In the end, I do think that words are rendered useless. But in the meantime...

In the meantime...

Well.

I will hit publish. And wonder why I spent an hour writing this.

And enjoy silence as often as possible. With some good conversation, music, and stuff thrown in. Loving it all...

An Album - Shooting the Average, One Fine Early Spring Day

2011-03-24T14:47:00.003-06:00

St. Vrain Greenway. Got out the iPhone. Decided to shoot the ordinary today.

And so we begin.

Better like this. Because no motor vehicles. Nice that the whole walk is not almost allowing MVs.

Sweet Willa took this shot of me and Phoebe.

Shy smile, hiked up mermaid shirt, dirty cords.

Thanks, nurses walking along the path. Cheesy.

Good day to the shadow cracks.

Filters and filtered light, tree, sun.

What's up 1974? Sweet teeth! I bite...

My fav wall. Flagstone an industry around here.

Shadow hands of my kids, embracing me with their shadow hands amidst my old shoe.

Look at this sprockety spike fescue, acting wild against the river's edge. While house cranes roof to see from background.

Another shot from Willa; she wanted to capture the sparkles in the river. Did she?

We stop and hunt for heart-shaped rocks, probably shipped in from somewhere and milled to specs. Note the right angles of suburban shadows; we are not wild.

This looks good!

What is a walk with my darling head children on this path without card without stopping at Left Hand Brewery for some pretzels? Alas, we cannot get in.

But we see that birds take residence nearby to the pretzel and beer place. They make nests and live in trees like normal, but include plastic in their homes. Like we do! We are not wild, or this is wild?

Love this flavor.

Just a logo.

Fire color under the bridge; sweet surprise. Willoree remarked that the river must be getting a lot of exercise bc it's always moving. Joggers pass by.

Above that bridge is the sign that backwards people can read.

This is too close to Papyrus to remark without a little bit of uuguh.

My total favorite rusted metal pole. OMG.

Path leads to home, across the lake, past wild rose and a rock crushing factory. The mesh is a JUST SAY NO TO BEAVERS ideology; surrounding some trees.

Keeps me in, keeps me around.

Foot foot.

Roses hip me.

I have two hips.

She has two hips.

Cattails have no hips. Do you see what monochromatic pre-spring Colorado is doing to me? Nuances are everywhere, like motorcycles.

Walks take a long time with a Pilgrim who's bent on taking it all in, every step. I sing many songs.

Juniper.

Longs Peak.

That rock cement making factory alluded to a few back. Great work, guys!

That's our house across the lake -- house: you know who you are! Holla!!

Trees that were once young, and upwardly mobile, then went through the fence, then got choked and girdled but absorbed the fence anyways and kept on growing, mildly deformed according to some...not to me.

1/3 panorama ...

... 2/3 panorama ...

... 3/3 panorama

What's a barrio these days without Mexican horses?

These tracks are bound for glory.

You don't see the hand; it's holding mine.

Time to plant, weed, make-shift table at home. Tomorrow...

We get home, take off our shoes, welcome wagon style to the kitchen for a late lunch and, later, some gum. I water seedlings, get Phoebe down for a nap. Ponder, wash a dish, work a minute, download.

Lastly, I just re-read these FOUR IMMEASURABLES, as a means to an invite of dedication. To what? To whatever! On my knees for this or that reason, or walking around, and of course in my various seats, while spreading peanut butter, filling the gas tank watching the price get so high, tapping this keyboard. May it be so! Om Shanti on the 3x.

May all sentient beings have equanimity, free from attachment, aggression and prejudice.  May they be happy, and have the causes for happiness.  May they be free from suffering and causes for suffering.  May they never be separated from the happiness that is free from suffering. (3x)

Almetto's Labyrinth...

2011-03-23T08:01:00.004-06:00

My step-father, Tom Schulz, recently completed a compelling project in Charlotte, NC. He's an artist, and much of his work is creating Labyrinths made of stained concrete. This one was for a remarkable woman named Almetto Howey Alexander. I am sending congratulations! And I badly want to go to Charlotte next week and walk it, walk it with my children, and give this woman and big hug. Tom writes,

What is your dream?

Almetto Howey Alexander dreamed of a Labyrinth in 2002. She stayed the course until she walked the path. What is your dream, Pilgrim? And where does your journey take you? To Healing. And Meditation. To Education. And Community. Walk your every walk with Almetto. We need all the good we can get. Now and evermore. Thank you.

From my aunt Mary's web site, which is devoted to educating and fundraising for this project:

About the Design of the Labyrinth

In November 2007, Almetto Alexander attended the opening of the Jack Matney Memorial Labyrinth Courtyard, where she met Tom Schulz, the artist who designed and built the labyrinth and prayerwall located at Presbyterian Hospital's center courtyard.

In 2009, Artist Tom Schulz prepared a proposal for the labyrinth. He designed a specific labyrinth that, while based on the conventional eleven-circuit pattern, speaks to the ancient African origins of the labyrinth. His studies and to-scale painting interpret aspects of Almetto Howey Alexander's life journey through personalized symbolism, imagery and color. The top goal for 2010 is to raise $51,000 to prepare the location, pour the substrate, and to employ EnnisArts, LLC to bring the labyrinth to completion. [read more...]

“The labyrinth is my dedication to the Washington Heights [in the historic west end district of Charlotte, NC] community to inspire people of all ages to find a peaceful place to reflect, refocus, heal, meditate, find peace of mind and pray," says Mrs. Alexander.

Why I Love Hairdryers, and a Holler Bach to Trista.

2011-03-22T08:14:00.048-06:00

And I never, ever use them. UNLESS

I go to the gym...which I never, ever do, UNLESS

I magically get a free pass to go to a really nice gym, in which case, I'll do it nightly for the five consecutive nights gifted to me and get my sweat on until the pass runs out. (I did this in Bend, OR, too with Ben's sister and loved it -- thanks, Tia!) When I get an extra $$$ I'll spend it on gym membership, I think, because I learn through these experiences that I am fond of gyms. That's news to me. Shout out to Haven for the 5-day pass to the nice gym in Boulder.

Two discoveries:

1) Trista Hollerbach the yoga teacher.

Hands down one of the most seasoned, rooted, inspiring and excellent yoga classes I've been to in a good while. I love it when teachers offer real, deeply investigative inspiration to court the divine. She did this so naturally, and so accessibly! No pretense, no barriers; all shakti, confidence, love and union. She teaches a (very well attended) class at the Colorado Athletic Club on Tuesday nights, 5PM. I'm not alone in saying I think I love this lady, I love her so, and just being around her is a grounding, whole-body invitation to a deeper love affair with my practice.

A couple of times tears of relief fell off my cheeks during class. Love those. When and if I ever teach my own classes, she is who I want to emulate. Her class was challenging, flowy, slow but fast enough, fast but slow enough, and peppered with her insights, suggestions and easy encouragement. The wisdom of the season shone through. She gave us a recipe. The music was almost as good as the music that Isha plays during her classes...

Trista has a lot of initials after her name, none of which I know anything about, but I gather she is a sex therapist in addition to a yoga teacher. Sex therapists: a noble and fascinating gift to humankind. Oh, the places we can go!

I am so, so very grateful for all of my wonderful yoga and meditation teachers, to my comrades, my peeps, this morning. You know who you are!

2) Hairdryers make me cry? WTF!

Turn them on: they remind me of getting ready for a date. (What are those, again?) It was Friday night, the ladies at the gym stood in front of mirrors drying their hair, mostly naked at least from the waist up. Naturally beautiful and readying themselves for supper? Or their first walk around town in the early spring? Maybe meeting their husbands of 20, 25 years in town for a meal? Beauty.

I fantasized: these gals were feeling strong enough and well cared for, juicy and alive and in love. Pleased. Routines serve these women. Sweating and taking the time to flex in and out of changing musculature good. Setting goals, being human, dealing with screwy issues at work, budget changes, sick kids, dying parents, pending divorce, maybe not?, a broken toe, grocery lists.

Mingling with these women I decided to take the time to slather my with lotion and dry my own hair; it was like vacation. Fucking transcendent. I was transported. Where was I going? Not on a date, but home...where we had leftovers and the girls were almost asleep, Ben on the sofa working on an estimate. Quella eager to say hello. It was not date night, but my heart sang loud and smiled on the inside and opened, and opened again, for when the real date night(s) come. This is enough for now, though, and I can extract the good and be with it easily.

I do look forward to the time when Ben and I will be able to work out together, co-sweat yo, then meet up for a nice supper in town after showering and doing locker room things. This is how I see ourselves when we're in our '50s. It's a sustaining and happy vision.

Yeah, What She Said

2011-02-14T09:19:00.002-07:00

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness, that frightens us most.

We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and famous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in all of us. And when we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~ Marianne Williamson

Happy Birthday to Phoebe Rosalie -- she turned one yesterday.

Sally Kempton: Meditation for the Love of It

2011-01-29T22:03:00.001-07:00

Someone: please turn down the lights! No, actually don't! Great, great, OMG great book. Dive in, invite change, get started. Nice job Sounds True and Haven Iverson, editor.

So much heart, so much heart. She's got it. Tenderness, openness, gentleness, excellent beyond belief skills as a writer, tremendous brains and dedication, really good ideas and direction.

I honor you, Sally. Meet you soon...

Hut Trip - Thanksgiving 2010 - Minimal Adventure as Four

2010-12-05T21:55:00.003-07:00

Indeeeeeed. Shrine Mountain Inn. Jay's Cabin. Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Cross country skied in (well most of us) with turkey, stuffing, squash, green beans, tons of eggs, oatmeal, brie, spinach, loaves of bread, condiments, winter gear, more warm stuff, slippers, bedding, ingredients for a French apple tart, for God's sake! Jay's cabin is an accommodating place for families with kids -- running water, flushing toilets, comfy mattresses, plenty of windows, nice dishes, wood for the fire. The four of us and two other families made this gorgeous spot up off Vail Pass our home for the weekend. I'm so glad we went. Maybe too glad, like I couldn't sleep glad. Or maybe I just can't sleep at 11,500 feet.

This was my first hut trip. Phoebe is 9 months old and Willoree 4 years old and although I'm used to things taking time, effort, etc. because adventure for four is such work when you get to the work part of it, I am still somewhat in awe at how much planning this ordeal took. I'm not very good at planning, but I enjoyed it anyways.

I don't particularly enjoy getting ready for car camping (which we do a fair amount of), or cooking/packing for festival weekends (annually, at least,) but -- staring at our strange Tetris-y piles of gear, used backpacks, goggles, etc. all over the house -- I came to enjoy planning this hut trip. The newness? Or maybe the immense challenge of wearing or dragging everything your family will need for three days up a long hill? Boundaries and edges, in all creative pursuits, make the processes more magical and interesting. Here I admit that I'm an editor, I love editing. Mostly other people's stuff. A bad habit -- ? I guess I have that kind of editing, revisionist, let me tell you what you just said in my own words kind of mind, even though I write unedited blogs like this one in a chop chop block annoying style and they're very run on sentence-y and probably choreful to read. Also I have gained a renewed appreciation for the guys in A Walk in the Woods.

We are a CO family of four and we hadn't gone up to the huts yet! And now that's all changed. I hope this trip to Shrine Mountain is the first of many. I cherish great adventures into the quiet, snowy CO beauty that sticks it to my heart and soul every time. I am growing more in love with Colorado as the years pass. I sing here, Colorado sings back.

Photos below.

Thanksgiving meal arrival night. We didn't have to carry the cast iron. Man that stuffing looks good.

Leland kind of altitude weary, but that doesn't stop little children from pestering him but then looking real cute.

Ina Garten loves this dessert, too. I could crunch a Granny Smith right now!

Baby Fatima.

Willoree and Rowan.

Bob is alseep. He's generally very agro CO active.

My dream is to have a wood stove, otherwise this is like the old lady who had those shoes in the nursery rhyme or something.

Lelend feeling better, picks up book to read to children under blue sleeping bag with logs behind heads.

Porch drops off into where the skis are parked.

The trail coming up to Jay's cabin. This is a lot of snow for November. I want to be snow when I grow up.

Welcome wagon shot.

Where I would have liked to have spent the entire trip, basically. The fired stoked and soon the room hit 185 degrees. Swank!

Footprints in the sand. God is here, too.

And here.

And there, especially in that old skool metal can that says "ashes only".

The path to someplace that's also pretty.

Crane your neck or these children will fall down the blog!

Dream, dream.

Ella Rowan and Willoree.

Alpenglow (from German: Alpenglühen) is an optical phenomenon. When the Sun is just below the horizon, a horizontal red glowing band can sometimes be observed on the opposite horizon. Alpenglow is easiest to observe when mountains are illuminated but can also be observed when the sky is illuminated through backscattering.

Since the Sun is below the horizon, there is no direct path for the light to reach the mountain. Instead, light reflects off airborne snow, water, or ice particles low in the atmosphere. It is this circumstance that separates a normal sunrise or sunset from alpenglow.

Although the term may be loosely applied to any sunrise or sunset light seen on the mountains, true alpenglow is not direct sunlight and is only observed after sunset or before sunrise.

In the absence of mountains, the aerosols in the eastern portion of the sky can be illuminated in the same way by the remaining red scattered light straddling the border of the Earth's own shadow (the terminator). This back-scattered light produces a red band opposite the Sun.

The above Wiki courtesy www.

The active Bob, with a snow head.

A portrait.

Nice chatty and comfortable set up. I liked that this hut didn't have a ton of stuff, per se, but the stuff it did have was nice. And useful. And of excellent condition and quality.

Well shit! It's a bananagram!

I made a fort /cage for Phoebe with materials and furniture from the downstairs room.

Willoree has begun to smile sans showing teeth. Not Rowan! I do love these two so very much.

Oats for the little birdies.

Me and my whatever looking that way close up?

Peace and trekking thank god it was downhill most of the way home.

Sorry, shadowed children in the sled are hard to peep in on. There are two girls in there. They did great.

------------

Merci, bonne nuit, la hut! Le turkey? Oui, je ne sais pas du frommage!! On y va, et alors, tout de suite les femmes des apres bon visage en la mache prix!! Eh eh eh, plus de Chatres.

Fin.

I swear; she does not.

2010-12-05T20:54:00.002-07:00

Mama, is yummy yummy in my tummy a bad word? Well, kid, I know the days of this brand of innocence are numbered and to your question I reply no. And we leave it be.

Worth the 20 minutes, over and over again.

2010-11-18T16:29:00.003-07:00

Brene Brown's TEDTalk. Little gift that keeps on giving. I really like her a whole bunch!

Mathematics, etc.

2010-10-18T11:41:00.001-06:00

The heat is on in my little office corner. It's a dark-ish fall day, a lovely day, but a day of quiet contemplation that reeks of a dying season.

It's a day that in earlier times would have made me sad. Today I don't feel sad, though. I'm drinking that old school tea called Good Earth, which reminds me of my Rolfer, Rob McWilliams. The little tea tag sayings are remarkable because they haven't yet adopted the typical aphorisms of yoga, or spiritual quips or anything like that (well, I guess I drink a lot of Yogi tea; never mind.) These tags quote sports figures, and scientists and novelists. But it's all kind of the same. People that have good, honest things to offer via mouth have good, honest things to offer via mouth...

Today's reads:

"In mathematics you don't understand things. You get used to them." – Johann von Neumann

Same same in spiritual practice. And, oh, what's that word that describes the idea that all intellectual or philosophical endeavors eventually pinnacle up and beg the same questions, and or get at the same truth?

There have been a handful of weird things happening in the flurry that is my life over the past few months...it's not that I understand them all, per se -- what's to understand -- but I'm getting used to them. And I'm not getting quite as ruffled as I once got. Things arise, I look at them, I consult the spiritual Casio (fx-260 SOLAR I probably picked up in 11th grade) take a good look at myself, the flurry dissolves. Love and a creak more into self understanding remains. For now, it's that easy.

I finally finished a really nice piece of jewelry -- a mala -- that I am enjoying wearing. It was quite the little trip, making her. Broke once, had to be restrung four or five times; far too many employees at the Bead Store in Longmont were in on its final construction (thank you, thank you.) My vision worsened, too, because beading is so little and so insanely meh meh meh. Beaders are truly a crazy group of people. (The guys on Car Talk think so, too, oddly enough. They talked to a beader once and they talked more about the craziness of beaders than her Pontiac, or whatever.) Anyway. I digress.

The making of this sweet necklace demanded my total, full attention and deliberate action, over and over again. Such a great reminder around my neck. She is handy, beautiful and feels nice. Self-discipline. Phoebe uses it as a teething thing; let's hope another galactic bead doesn't shear off and choke the poor girl. The necklace reminds me of my dear friend and yoga teacher, Isha, and of long trips to India that I haven't taken.

The Fluorite apparently helps negate pixel dust's negative ju ju, as well bring order and healing to body, mind, subtle energetic fields...it feels tonifying and illuminating. I might make more of these. I want to. I have a mala in mind for my dearest Tallresa Teresa who's galavanting about in Nigeria this month. I miss her. We used to visit art museums, crystal shops, stare into piles of shells at the beach...we'd stare at these cases full of pottery, gems, mixed metal media, geode slices...whatever...and ask each other, in all seriousness: "which are you, which am I?" This took hours! Our answers were so right on. Sometimes we were surprised at our assessments of one another, but we always came to understand the analysis.

This ability to recognize myself in all things has been being groomed for years, years, lifetimes. It's easier at times than others: I am Ghandi. I am my newborn baby. I am that cute caterpillar...but in some matters I guess you can't cherry pick when it's true; it either is or it is not.

So I am that I am so ham I am green eggs and so ham, I am. Blabber blabber blabber.

It's a nice, fall day. Let it die, you. Let it die, me! Whatever it is: light the fire and let it fall to the ground and be done with it. There will probably be more tomorrow, I rest assured.

Grasshopping Takes Over Longmont, the Boot Scoot Should RISE Up and Kick Them OUT of my Way

2010-09-21T16:33:00.005-06:00

Why oh why...

I stepped on a HUGE ass hopper today on my walk home from Willoree's school. It was light green, 3" long – at least. It actually mounded under my foot as would a large rock...it also splatted up its light green death juice up on my shin and I screamed. It was really gross, and I am sorry to report that I don't think I love that someone likened me to a grasshopper a few weeks ago.

Why, oh why are there so MANY FUCKING grasshoppers around this summer? It's a never ending fireworks explosion of grasshoppers at every step. Dear God. What is this all mean?!

My BBF Teresa and I discuss, as we do all things, some grasshoppers. In an email:

imma try to share n expose the cute side of Grasshopper.

rhymes with grandmother.

see the cute front arms gently coddle-holding the delicate stem?

see the middle legs nice and open, like triangle pose, with smurf clap pose on the gentle stem?

and the rear leg – reminds me of a keith ellis pant and thigh, or maybe air jordan sweatpant.

mother of pearling on the bodice.

a frightening side-eye!!

and see the radar 'tennae on that head?
a pupal sac of body mass grub.

(wow i see what you mean)...

like a Trek mountain bike: http://www.animalpictures1.com/postcard.img1115.htm

like a Grandpa gypsy: http://www.ponderstorm.com/2010/02/24/two-versions-of-the-ant-and-the-grasshopper/

you are only similarly strong in leg and fast in lighting upon the flower of life. and you have great peripheral vision of the aquarian way...

LOVE

If you are not linking to the above, you non-linkers, here are Trek Mountain bike variety, old grandpa gypsy and the WOW one that gave Teresa realization of my ih woes (that one's about actual size), respectively.

Mother Nature knows best. Maybe I'll just get over myself and eat some, really get WITH the hoppers. Oh god, I am feeling the internal gnarl rising UP.

Little Mama, Don't you Love Her?

2010-09-21T16:24:00.000-06:00

Love to my mother, pictured above, and her brother Terry. Love to THE mother. Aren't we all trying to just eat her up and become her, over and over again? Fathers, too. Good times.

We are Two, We Are One, Nicho Mini Mexican Folk Art

2010-09-21T16:09:00.007-06:00

Happy Anniversary to Ben and me! Two years. Feels longer...all good.

We wore cotton as per tradition, almost; we ate American; I gave Mexican, I used glitter in an art project, which I think is universal; the love was noted as galactic and beyond; and here we are already in our third year.

So I made Ben a mini nicho. I love folk art very much. I especially love Japanese packaging (food, etc.); African textiles and Mexican Day of the Dead stuff. So I fashioned a mini nicho for Ben, all wrapped up in mid-century sheet music (Corazon, anyone?) from Spain. The lotus up top is from a photo at Angela's lake house in MI. The eye is the I; the we is the we; the background is part sheet music (reads: "And your eyes told me all was well") and a colorful, nice looking piece of trash I found at Angie's house. There's a little bird hiding up top under the lotus, couldn't resist. The coiled wire is in homage to Kundalini; the screws are both screws and allusions to the metaphor of construction, which was heavy heavy at our wedding, and remains a decent way to consider the marriage and being married.

Foundation seems to be key. And good contractors.

I like that from "trash" -- valued, not, what IS trash anyways? -- comes bloom. I like that from bloom comes "eye", comes I. I comes we comes I. I like that from the tangled mess of coil, screw and lowest layers come stalk, stem and support for thousand petaled openings.

I mostly like the way this petite art project turned out. I am excited to make more, and from a strictly aesthetic stance, the more I make the less cluttery they will look. This is my hope. I'm forever fighting clutter. And I don't like seeing it creep into my designs, either. As within, so without, I attest. But oh yes! Less is often more.

But of course we got dessert. And giggled at the big bill presented to us al final.

We noted that we have spent the year heavily invested in my pregnancy, our new daughter, and a lot of individually tailored delvings...and while it was less focused on "marriage" per se than parenting, or growth, or ?, it ends up that the work isn't wasted, or lost, or diluted. We become stronger because of it all.

And I suppose being alive, being married, having a mess of kids, etc. etc. we do indeed get it all.

Must keep getting used to this. Life is indeed a prayer. Blessings to all of you who bless us! We have a box of them handwritten on origami paper from the ceremony, shining down on our dining table. And it is good...

Mind Your Manners, Or Don't.

2010-09-19T20:00:00.003-06:00

Table Manners, in particular.

And what role do they play in the modern or not so modern family? In my family? Manners are conventional. We all operate from conventions. Some staggering stat I read said that people operate from our subconscious minds roughly 96% of the time. That means that only 4% of what we do, say, how we act, react, respond is "clear" for lack of a better word. (A discussion of that could be its own little project.) But seriously, that's insane. I'd bet that manners are among the things that we value just because someone else who had influence over us at an earlier time valued them.

Why do some people require manners so hard? Who are these people (besides my grandparents and my Dad?) Who are manners really for -- seems always the other people at the proverbial table. So I don't get it, but yet I like manners. I feel like they're valuable. I appreciate and use (most of the time) "good" manners, or I try to. I even have gone so far as to lightly judge (?) people around me to don't -- which is perhaps the uglier side of the "nice", social convention. There are things that to this day (and because of my grandmother's sneering disapproval) annoy me in restaurants. It doesn't bother me that my daughter reaches across the table for more bread, per se, but I notice it...for better or for worse.

Do manners become outdated? Or are classic manners just that -- never to die or change. Maybe there's value in their antiquity? A New vs. Old Money-like stigma, if you will. Do they bring us closer together, or make us feel ostracized from one another? Classism? Elitism? Middle Class-itis?

For me they are an easy and interesting target. I keep my "manners" in my back pocket and use when necessary. I hadn't given much thought to manners until recently when my dad got somewhat annoyed at a restaurant at Willoree's not using nice table manners. She was eating a spaghetti noodle with her fingers. She's four. When asked to use a fork, she asked Why? And my dad's answer?

Because I said so.

OK. So that tells me nothing and so much all at the same time.

I am certain that manners are more or less benign things, but they have some serious potential to trigger deeper, uglier, more loaded emotions I've suddenly been confronted with. This is interesting to me. I'd like to know more from you, my dear readers. Please pass the the commentary.

The above photos are of my grandparents, Bess and Walker Geitner, on a trip to Egypt ca. 1955.

And Behold a Big Blue Horse? Many in Denver Just Say Neigh

2010-08-17T17:29:00.004-06:00

This post is dedicated to Willoree, my 4 year old daughter who named this horse (and so many other things) Lucy. I love Willoree so much. She's on her way to NC for a week-long trip with her grandparents. How very grown up of her! How very sweet my soul feels. Thank you, Tom and Sheila, for making magic happen...over and over again.

I opine in haiku form, apparently all the rage (?):

Blue horizon bucks
We laugh, crane necks; the Mazda
wants also to buck.

And the red, weird eyes?
Inquiring, seeing us.
Making us miss turns.

--------------------

Taken from an old NYT post,
March 2, 2009

And Behold a Big Blue Horse? Many in Denver Just Say Neigh

By KIRK JOHNSON

DENVER — Airports can be tense and testy places in the best of times. At Denver International Airport, you can add glow-in-the-dark eyes to the list of triggers for a traveler’s angst.

A statue of a giant male horse — electric-eyed, cobalt blue and anatomically correct — was installed in February 2008 on the roadway approach to the terminal, and it is freaking more than a few people out.

(My emphasis) Haters of this work say that “Blue Mustang,” as it is formally known, by the artist Luis Jiménez (killed in 2006 when a section of the 9,000-pound fiberglass statue fell on him during construction), is frightening, or cursed by its role in Mr. Jiménez’s death, or both. Supporters say the 32-foot-tall horse is a triumph, if only as a declaration of Denver’s courage to go beyond easy-listening-style airport art that many cities use like visual Dramamine to soothe travelers’ nerves.

Love it or loathe it, though, “Blue Mustang” is doing what art is supposed to do — get attention. There’s even a poetry slam planned in Denver to read horse haikus, of which about 250 have been composed, believe it or not.

“It’s definitely achieved its purpose of being memorable,” said Rachel Hultin, a real-estate broker in Denver who started a page on Facebook last month to vent her horse anxieties, byebyebluemustang.com, and found herself at the center of the debate.

Ms. Hultin, who said she started the campaign partly on a whim, “after a few drinks with friends,” also suggested on her page that people post comments in haiku form. Denver residents and travelers who had formed an opinion about the statue while passing through, leapt at the challenge. To wit:

Anxiously I fly
apocalyptic hell beast
fails to soothe my nerves.

Local artists and city public art administrators say “Blue Mustang” has stirred a deeper debate too, about Denver itself, and what sort of image it wants to communicate. Is “Blue Mustang” an echo of the city’s high-plains bronco-busting past? Or a mocking denunciation of the Old West conventions? Or is it just strange?

“People can’t put their finger on what’s it’s conveying,” said Joni Palmer, who is finishing a doctoral dissertation on politics and public art in Denver. “It’s the strangeness that really unnerves people — this mix of things.” As another of the haiku writers put it:

Big blue horse beckons
Fiery, red eyes glowering
Good bye one horse town.

The airport’s public-art administrator, Matt Chasansky, said airport settings carry fundamentally different psychological baggage than ordinary urban spaces. Like most public art in Denver, he said, the statue was paid for by developers who are required to contribute 1 percent of the cost of major capital projects to public art.

“We don’t want the work to convey things that would make people uncomfortable about flying,” Mr. Chasansky said. No art, for example, would be commissioned with a violent theme. But art that is too soothing, he said, is probably in the end just bad art.

“Quality works of public art are not the works that are completely gentle,” he said. Yet the specific setting of “Blue Mustang” has evolved since it was commissioned in the 1990s, changing how the work is perceived.

The original design called for a pull-off from the airport road, with benches and ample room to contemplate the statue from all angles. After the terrorist attacks of 9/11, however, the parking area idea was shelved for security reasons.

That makes “Blue Mustang” literally unapproachable: most viewers zoom by, perhaps retaining only a vague impression. The barriers to approach, artists and art critics say, have compounded the piece’s troubles, making it seem even more forbidding by virtue of isolation.

“There’s no location to be able to get intimate with the work,” said Lawrence Argent, an artist in Denver. “It’s a vista from afar, and to many it’s a frightening vista from afar.”

Mr. Argent knows about distant vistas — and outsize animals too. He is best known in Denver for creating a two-story blue bear that peers into a window of the Colorado Convention Center, called “I See What You Mean.” Last fall he received a commission for an installation at Sacramento International Airport in California for a 56-foot-long red rabbit. When the piece is installed as part of a planned airport expansion, the fiberglass rabbit will appear to be leaping through the terminal into a giant suitcase.

Ms. Hultin, meanwhile, who got the ball rolling with her antihorse Facebook page, has changed her mind. She no longer wants “Blue Mustang” removed, as she once did. (City policy holds that public art pieces are left in place for five years, anyway, and officials have given no sign of budging.)

She now thinks that pamphlets at the airport, and maybe education courses for airport bus drivers, could lead viewers into a deeper understanding of the horse and the artist, she said, notwithstanding that she had been called “every name in the book” by defenders of the statue.

“In the process of being personally attacked through e-mail, and through learning more about the piece, I’ve shifted gears from, ‘I don’t think it’s appropriate,’ to ‘Let’s try and understand it,’ ” she said.

But the controversy has also stirred up people in other ways. Conspiracies have floated around the Internet for years about secret bunkers or caverns beneath the terminals at the Denver airport. Symbols of Freemasonry are also said to abound on airport floors and walls.

“It’s brought out the conspiracy theorists who think there are aliens living under the airport,” said Patricia Calhoun, the editor of Westword, an alternative weekly paper in Denver that is helping organize a “Blue Mustang” poetry slam in April to share horse haiku as part of National Poetry Month.

Showa - Era - Japanese

2010-08-02T10:58:00.002-06:00

I went to bed last night in a quiet mood.

There is something -- perhaps everything -- about this Showa era Japanese anthology I'm reading which quiets the mind while stirring the senses. I was able to relate in my own little ways: seeing childhood home besotted with another family's improvements, life force, the sounds of their pets, their weird vegetable gardens, e.g.

This anthology is largely comprised of sensitive and often marginalized authors who lived through Japan's (misnamed?) era of "enlightenment and peace" and took slices of what they saw and blew them up into 15, 19-page stories. Women writers, too, included in this selection.

The bee of my mind is engrossed, four stories in, I want to go to Tokyo to see my brother one day.

Willoree and the Mermaid

2010-07-06T20:57:00.000-06:00

Willoree just asked me, "did you know that there was a Mermaid Freakout in the world?"

I said no. But I am intrigued.

Steamboat Springs Camping

2010-07-06T10:58:00.001-06:00

To my fellow Americans: Happy July of the Four! We love BP.

Willoree is learning to ride a bike; we all got sunburned and were surrounded SURROUNDED by the love songs that only wildflowers can sing and by camp food that only friends can make taste so delicious. Ben and I learned we sleep better on an air mattress, which makes me aware of my boniness and of getting old, so I am wanting to sleep outside more and get that relationship with the ground back on track. And or plump up a bit.

Thank you to Haven, Chantal, and to our families for being and making this an excellent weekend. I am deeply inspired by both these women. The meaning of "superwoman" gets enlivened, and I see grace and love and brains and brawn all in the mix, keeping things tight while allowing flow, guiding and enjoying and living the dream. Being with these types of ladies gives me a little itch to join up with like-minded women in the workplace and create more than just my modest solo 9V stuff. Alluring, so much of it, and to achieve balance? Isn't this always the trick. Conversations to be had.

I was thrilled to get home and see my first ripe tomato (thanks, global warming) and strung out peas; tall carrots, beets and flowering arugula. Cucumbers climbing and lillies blossoming; broccoli struggling (?) and an overjoyed and lonely kitty glad to see us. Home is so good. I am grateful. So grateful.

On our trip we photographed nada; I was expecting my new dSLR in the mail last but the crappy company from whom I ordered oversold it and so my order has been canceled. The underbelly of the "best deal".

Thanks, too, to Creekside Cafe for filling our bellies and making us want to, well sort of want to, move to the Steamboat Springs area...this, I think, is an inevitable call for anyone who's spent time there and who loves the feeling of clean air and water; a more verdant and softer CO; and young interesting-looking white folks who value the wilderness and outdoor recreational sporty stuff...

Off to meditate. It's the new coffee.

We Love Stove, or Stu, depending on Who's Talking

2010-05-25T14:06:00.001-06:00

Our friend Stu came over to visit us last weekend. He brought one of the best gifts for Willoree that she's ever gotten: a metal rose that he welded for her. Wow: what a romantic!

Willoree, at a young three, made Stu (she thought his name was Stove) a pumpkin pie at day care because she fell madly in love with him during another visit last year. Stu returned the favor by singing songs to her while she ate this awesome curry shrimp meal I made from my Pasqual's cookbook. Epic night.

We love Stu! Phoebe's crying so I've gotta go. Dear Diary. Blah blah.

Gayatri Mantra

2010-04-28T11:26:00.002-06:00

OM BHUR BHUVAH SUVAHA
TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM
BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI
DHIYO YO NAH PRACHODAYAT

Meaning:

We contemplate the glory of Light illuminating the three worlds: gross, subtle, and causal.

I am that vivifying power, love, radiant illumination, and divine grace of universal intelligence.

We pray for the divine light to illumine our minds.

Meaning of the individual words:

Om: The primeval sound
Bhur: the physical world
Bhuvah: the mental world
Suvah: the celestial, spiritual world
Thath: That; God; transcendental Paramatma
Savithur: the Sun, Creator, Preserver
Varenyam: most adorable, enchanting
Bhargo: luster, effulgence
Devasya: resplendent,supreme Lord
Dheemahi: we meditate upon
Dhiyo: the intellect,understanding
Yo: May this light
Nah: our
Prachodayath: enlighten,guide,inspire

Sathya Sai Baba said that this prayer is directed to the Divine Mother: "O Divine Mother, our hearts are filled with darkness. Please make this darkness distant from us and promote Illumination within us."

(Below taken from http://www.magicofgayatri.com.)

The History and Significance of the Gayatri Mantra (Excerpts from the CD)

The Gayatri Mantra has been chronicled in the Rig Veda, which was written in Sanskrit about 2500 to 3500 years ago, and the mantra may have been chanted for many centuries before that.

For ages, this beautiful prayer has seemed mysterious to the Western mind and was out of reach even for most Hindus. It was a well guarded secret, withheld from women and from those outside the Hindu Brahmin community.

Today, it is chanted, meditated to, and sung around the world with reverence and love. It is often compared to The Lord’s Prayer in significance and impact.

The beautiful and soothing ancient sounds, the flowing rhythmic patterns, and the powerful intent make the Gayatri Mantra a wonderful part of one’s daily spiritual practice. Because it is an earnest and heartfelt appeal to the Supreme Being for enlightenment, it can be universally applied. It really doesn’t matter what your religion, your color or your ethnicity is – what matters is your intent, and your authenticity, and your willingness to be moved.

The ancient Hindu scriptures describe how the sage Vishwamitra was given the Gayatri mantra by the Supreme Being as a reward for his many years of deep penance and meditation. This was to be a gift for all humanity.

It is said that this sacred prayer spirals through the entire universe from the heart of the chanter, appealing for peace and divine wisdom for all.

The Gayatri Mantra inspires wisdom in us. In very basic but beautiful language, it says "May the divine light of the Supreme Being illuminate our intellect, to lead us along a path of righteousness".

The Vedas say:

To chant the Gayatri Mantra
purifies the chanter.
To listen to the Gayatri Mantra
purifies the listener.
But the mantra does more, as I found out. It opens up your heart. And how well we know, when both our minds and our hearts open, we open ourselves up for new possibilities.

For many devout Hindus, the Gayatri is seen as a Divine awakening of the individual mind and the individual soul – Atman -- and within it, a way to Union with the collective consciousness - Brahman. Understanding and simply loving the essence of the Gayatri Mantra is considered by many to be one of the most powerful ways to touching God.

One interpretation is that the word Gayatri is derived from the words:

gaya, meaning “vital energies” and
trâyate, meaning “preserves, protects, gives deliverance, grants liberation”.
So, the two words "Gayatri Mantra" might be translated as “a prayer of praise that awakens the vital energies and gives liberation and deliverance from ignorance”.

The shorter form of the Gayatri is practiced far more commonly:

“OM BUHR, BHUVA, SWAHA
OM TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM
BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI
DHIYO YONAHA PRACHODAYAT”

We meditate on the glory of the Creator;
Who has created the Universe;
Who is worthy of Worship;
Who is the embodiment of Knowledge and Light;
Who is the remover of Sin and Ignorance;
May He open our hearts and enlighten our Intellect.

The longer version is more profound.

“OM BHUR, OM BHUVAHA, OM SWAHA, OM MAHAHA, OM JANAHA, OM TAPAHA, OM SATYAM
OM TAT SAVITUR VARENYAM
BHARGO DEVASYA DHEEMAHI
DHIYO YONAHA PRACHODAYAT”

According to the Vedas, there are seven realms or spheres or planes of existence, each more spiritually advanced than the previous one. It is written that through spiritual awareness and development, we can progressively move through these realms and ultimately merge with the Supreme Being. Many Buddhist teachings have also referred to these seven realms.

By chanting this mantra, Divine spiritual light and power is infused in each of our seven chakras and connects them to these seven great spiritual realms of existence.

Benefits to chanting the Gayatri (Excerpts from the CD and grateful acknowledgements to Pandit Shri Ram Sharma Acharya)

The sages of ancient times selected the words of the Gayatri carefully and arranged them so that they not only convey meaning but also create very specific vibrations and powers of righteous wisdom through their utterance. Hindu Vedic scriptures describe how many of these sages accumulated tremendous spiritual powers through years of deep meditation and the chanting of the Gayatri – these spiritual powers are called Siddhi.

It is said that these Gayatri Sadhaka (spiritual seeker) begin to feel the presence of divine power in the inner self which induces immense strength and peace of mind.

According to the late Pandit Shri Ram Sharma Acharya, "The rishis and sages of the Vedic Age had experienced and experimented on the enormous extrasensory energy pools – the chakras, upachakras, granthis, koshas, matakas, upayatikas and nadis, hidden in the subtle cores in the endocrine glands, nerve bundles and ganglions. It is said that the activation of these rekindles rare virtuous talents and supernormal potential.

Scientists, meta-physicists, spiritual practitioners and others are studying and rediscovering these ancient approaches towards self-realization.

The secret of the supernatural impact of Gayatri Mantra in the physical domains of life lies in the unique configuration of the specific syllables of the mantra. The cyclic enunciation of this mantra stimulates the subliminal power centers in the subtle body. The pressure on tongue, lips, vocal cord, palate and the connecting regions in the brain generated by continuous enunciation of the twenty-four special syllables of the Gayatri Mantra creates a resonance (or a vibration) in the nerves and the ‘threads’ of the subtle body. The musical flow thus induced titillates the extrasensory energy centers. The latter begin to stimulate and a sublime magnetic force arouses in the Sadhaka that attracts the vital currents of Gayatri Shakti immanent in the infinite domains. This magnetic charge induced by the continuous repetition of the Gayatri Mantra ‘attunes’ the seeker’s mind to link with these supernatural power-currents."

It is significant that the prolonged repetition of the Gayatri has a cumulative effect on our bodies and our minds. Our minds are sharper, our immune system is stronger, and our hearts are open. When our energy centers, including our main Chakras, are activated by the vibrations of the Gayatri mantra, this has a positive and healing effect on our life force energy – on our Prana.

The Gayatri can be listened to, chanted, or even thought. There is power and potency in all three approaches. Choose the approach that you are most comfortable with.

The Meaning of the Gayatri Mantra (Text of Track 5)

If you intend to chant the Gayatri mantra, it is quite important that you chant it with the correct pronunciation and with the deepest integrity of intent. This of course, means that one needs to know the meaning of the words behind the mantra. The Sanskrit words of the Gayatri carry tremendous power when chanted correctly and with the purest of hearts.

Om Bhur Bhuva Swaha (Om Bhoor Bhoova Swa-Ha)

Om Tat Savitur Varenyam (Om Tat Sa-Vidoor Va-rain-yam)

Bhargo Devasya Deemahi (Bhaargo They-Vas-Ya Dee-Mahi)

Deeyo Yo Naha, Prachodayaat (Thee-Yo Yo-Na-Ha, Pra-Cho-Da-Yaat)

OM is considered the primeval sound from which all sounds emerge.

OM is Brahma and a metaphor for Source Energy or the Supreme Being.

Om Bhur Bhuva Swaha is actually a preamble to the main mantra and means that we invoke in our prayer and meditation the One who is our inspirer, our creator and who is the abode of supreme Joy. It also means, we invoke the earthly, physical world, the world of our mind, and the world of our soul.

Tat Savitur Varenyam……Tat meaning THAT, again denoting the Supreme Being. Savitur meaning the radiating source of life with the brightness of the Sun; and Varenyam, meaning that most adorable, most desirable.

Bhargo Devasya Deemahi……Bhargo meaning luster and splendor, Devasya meaning Divine or Supreme and Deemahi meaning “We meditate upon”.

Deeyo Yo Naha, Prachodayaat……Deeyo meaning our understanding of reality, our intellect, our intention. Yo meaning He Who, and Naha meaning Our. Finally, Prachodayaat, meaning May he Inspire, Guide.

Put together, we could say:

“We meditate on that most adorable, desirable and enchanting luster and brilliance of our Supreme Being, our Source Energy, our Collective Consciousness….who is our creator, inspirer and source of eternal Joy. May this warm and loving Light inspire and guide our mind and open our hearts.”

Isn’t that awe inspiring?

Now that you are armed with your own unique inner wisdom of what the Gayatri mantra means for you, and an understanding of the Sanskrit words, perhaps you may wish to write your own personal interpretation of this wonderful prayer.

My blessings and well-wishes as you do so.

Copyright 2007/2008 - The Magic of Gayatri, Chandra-Shekar (from magicofgayatri.com)

------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Enlightenment is a process of peeling back the many layers of the ego to experience your true radiant Infinite Self. It is a process of opening to your innermost being, and as a result to the entire Universe! Reaching towards the center of "you" you may find a spiritual cyclone. Yet, keep diving, beyond that there is a deep stillness. In the very essence of your being is where your true spiritual knowledge resides. This is the Source of your Reality and Universe. As you continuously rest deeper into the quiet peaceful still center in the heart of your being, you will eventually awaken to the Divine being you truly are. The longer you can abide in this center, the faster you'll find yourself manifesting a rich life, full of depth, meaning, clarity, love and abundant with bliss." – Jafree Ozwald 2006

Minivans: Hell or Hell on Wheels?

2010-04-26T23:55:00.001-06:00

There's a decent mention down there about minivans if anyone cares to comment. Given the trauma this subject seems to lay on us ladies with kids, I figure this should set fire to some good conversation. Put it in OD, mujeres...

Almost Done. Looking Green/Good.

2010-04-26T23:46:00.002-06:00

www.GreenStarElectric.com/new.

Back to work, Geitner.

Planting A Garden

2010-04-26T23:04:00.001-06:00

My hands are rough and all I want to do it smell good dirt, get some hens (not really, but shit we eat a lot of eggs here at ISIS), grow my own, fix the irrigation piping situation, and perhaps move to a place in the world where it's not so damn hard to grow food.

I would love to pick Angela Madaras's brain (read her blog here -- food, love, Lupus, ongoing self-discovery and the meanderings of one of my bestest bestest friend's heart and soul - at least what Blogger gets of it) about everything in my backyard. Her garden in Ann Arbor is an inspiration to me, and I can taste in the food the grows all the love she puts into it. She's amazing, truly. She's one of those people around whom you just want to be more pure, nice, radiant and loving. She's also among the most generous of anyone I've ever met. Her hubby, D00g, ain't bad either.

Angelas garden, last year:

Happy lettuce, happy clouds, happy dill, happy other stuff. I was honored to weed this garden.

My yard deal:

I've got a couple rows of peas going near a wobbly trellis I fashioned out of materials I'd expected to have made something more sturdy. More than half are dead/not coming up. Some carrot seeds have been sown behind them (fingers crossed; the seeds from last year's or the year before?). Red chard and spinach are waiting out in a low, sort of weedy bed to the south; some spinach coming up. Across the path is a row of transplanted dill volunteers along our fence (which I read recently should never be transplanted) and a mess of salad green potential. Beets and kale seeds to the left. I have watered everything pretty well and I can't wait to see what happens. I have a new friend and client who harvests worm poop who I hope will sell me some good compost here soon to amend the rest of the beds. Despite CO and all its arid love, things are looking pretty sweet out there. But it's spring, and it's raining here and there, and the hose reaches most places.

I was appreciating seeds today for the simple fact that they naturally embrace change; they evolve into plants, get eaten, excreted, go back to the globe. I'd like to take note. Why is it that change is so hard for us people? Perhaps if you soak us overnight and give us some kind of inoculator. Oh, perhaps that's garden slang for getting tore up at the bars or something. Or random use of narcotics from third world countries.

It's so sweet, incidentally, to see all my friends coming back to life in the yard -- peonies, asters, greek oregano, strawberrries, dill spriglets, apple blossoms. I will eat you all. I'll also take some photos tomorrow. The yard is where I spend my free time when I've got it: nothing like babies; nothing like gardening.

Same thing, in effect. Miracles at every turn.

Also -- excited to document Ben's latest project: a little play house for Willoree. She's durrin real good, ya'll. Summer's almost here. We're all set to enjoy, deeply. Off to Seattle in a couple of days for Paul's wedding! I get to take pictures for them...and walk for HOURS on the beach, Orcas Island. Joy.

Been A While : MFA : Pneumaplasm

2010-04-26T22:40:00.001-06:00

I've been remiss and in bliss; Phoebe's spilling out over all aspects of our lives and it's been wonderful. So much to share...so little time to share it. But parts just seem too good to keep all to myself. So...

I read a paragraph today and learned a new word: Pneumaplasm. Pneumaplasm is the substance of the energetic field surrounding each of us, and is generated out of our flesh as the creative Spirit moves through us in the living of life. There is a story of Creation that tells of a mist coming up from the ground, and immediately following, the Invisible Spirit creates man from earth...and breathes into him the breath of life. The mist is a depiction of pneumaplasm.

Phoebe is a pensive, calm, pneumaplasmistic gal who's a joy to be around. She's also beautiful and interesting and loves to study the light and listen to the little song the glow worm sings. More about her and life as a family of four later.

Ben and I went to Denver to attend our good friend, David Fodel's, thesis show: Still Life in Real Time. It was a beautiful show, and made me feel very proud to know him, and to have shared almost all of my CO days knowing him and his great family. The show was also groovy in that it was pitched high above our heads in the Gates Planetarium and made use of things like a Wii hidden in a loaf of bread, or in a sunflower. David writes, "Still Life in Real Time is an exploration of contemporary notions of "stillness" as seen through different lenses: scientific, technological, and cultural. Three vignettes will be presented, each embodying different aspects of relationships to history, media, and memory and the interfaces we devise to examine and manipulate the data associated with each.

The part of the show I found most captivating commented on the minds and hearts (memory?) of a person said to be in a permanent vegetative state. David photographed the hospital room image that was shining down on us. He just walked into the hospital and started taking photos; no one (NO one, mind you) even stopped to ask him questions about what he was doing because, presumably, he was wearing a suit. So wear your dress up clothes and you'll get away with a lot more than you would otherwise. Check him out here: http://blog.davidfodel.com/StillLifeInRealTime.

photos by iPhone and taken at the reception (at OBJECT + THOUGHT in Denver) of his processed, as projected on the garage door. There was an inordinate amount of tricky looking math amongst these images, too, but stupid iPhone couldn't work fast enough to take photos of them. And then we had to go eat supper so I left so as not to be left. The beautiful and talented Stacy B.; garage door images; David talking to Paco.

Is Hiking Every Day Possible? And what about a minivan?

2010-04-20T01:30:00.002-06:00

I was recently inspired by a mother of three who wrote an article in Mothering about hiking every day, from 9 to noon, with her kids. Commitment: every day.

Is this even possible? Could I do this? Of course I could! And what do I love more than hiking? Not mucho, blog fans. Not mucho at all...

Since I can't really work to my fullest worky potential because, well, summer's here and I've yet to schedule the soccer, drama, ballet, swim lessons, play dates, karate, and other 2010 stuff the average God Bless America mama who's all freaked out with work and home duty thereby overstuffing the kids' schedules for dubious reasons like guilt or necessity-ish does for Willoree. You know, so I can buy myself three hours to work (to pay for it all.) That, and the fact that doll head Phoebe is young and needy in a different way, sort of anti-9V for the most part actually. So I have decided to try to hike, instead.

That's easy.

Every day. Actually my goal is 4x a week, weekdays. I will go with my two beautiful daughters and the dog, probably, as long as her arthritis isn't too bad, poor thing.

I also want a new car -- I mean I want something larger than a car. Some kind of minivan, perhaps, with a pimpin system? I am not sure if I'm serious about the minivan, but I sort of want to dive into the whole having babies and kids thing more seriously, because it's so easy to hate minivans. But now I've doubled the lot. Two kids. An enormous fella who can't even fit in my Civic. And a dog. You know, vans were made for loving me baby, and I was made for loving them I think.

Ben's all for it. I find that's usually the case: the man wants the woman to get the minivan, the woman is like, "hell no."

Well that's hot. She looks like she's about to stab someone with that key.

Suddenly there's so much I want to write! My eyes hurt. Nothing a good ride in a minivan can't fix, though, I'd betcha.

It's Snowing

2010-03-19T12:55:00.000-06:00

Yep. It's snowing.

Phoebe

2010-02-22T13:02:00.000-07:00

Daughter was born at home on February 13th. It was a fucking marvelous day, and I am working on mustering the sustained attention to write the birth story down down, after which it'll be posted here. Highlights: castor oil, shiatsu, the Happy Noodle House, crying in public, bumpy canyon road in the back seat of Joe's JEEP.

More soon, beloveds...

Permaculture - Geoff Lawton Video - Springtime is closer than Wintertime

2010-02-05T16:29:00.002-07:00

Here we are, 3 days post the goddess Brigid's celebrated day (halfway between the solstice and equinox) and, as spring approaches, I'm happily thinking about gardening. Starting seeds indoors, growing stuff out of yogurt containers on the sunny cill in our kitchen, harvesting lettuces and basil and fresh sweet peas again. I am such a novice in the ways of edible landscape, but I want to get better. I have dreams and I want more inspired friends and land lovers in my life...like Treesa (ecobydesign.net).

I was inspired this morning by this video...and always, of course, by Permaculture. It's sensible, like eating protein for breakfast. The more you read, the more you think, then the more you feel integrated into a nicer, broader more giving world and willing to work within its natural suggestions and dynamics...

Geoff Lawton of Australia

"Permaculture (permanent agriculture) is the conscious design and maintenance of agriculturally productive ecosystems which have the diversity, stability, and resilience of natural ecosystems. It is the harmonious integration of landscape and people providing their food, energy, shelter, and other material and non-material needs in a sustainable way. Without permanent agriculture there is no possibility of a stable social order."

http://permaculture.org.au/what-is-permaculture/

The wait apres the due date and Groundhog Day robot?

2010-02-04T20:14:00.001-07:00

No baby yet, although I'm 2cm dilated and 25% effaced, and so far all of this pre-pre early labor rig has been effortless and floaty. I feel truly good, and I almost wonder if I need to be feeling more miserable to have my bebe? It's been a funny pregnancy for me. Month 8, for example, was total hell. Month 9 has been heaven. All in all though, I'm still of the I Love Being Pregnant camp, and for that I consider myself lucky. I am almost finished.

I want to write, however, about what it feels like to be waiting around for your baby to come after she's "due".

So you get knocked up and you immediately have this anchor of a date in mind. January 30th (recall that HUGE, perigean full moon – the largest it will be this year) was my due date. The date is announced, advertised, it's rolling around in your head making its way into your plans, your family's plans, etc. etc. but it's all sort of bullshit, because the margin of "error" associated with that date is vast. What midwives and docs do, as far as I understand, is choose and chart a middle date within four weeks of the possible birth. I was told today that first babies are born, on average, 10 days after their due date and that second babies come around 7 after. My first kid, Willoree, was a week "late". This round I'm now three days "late".

The date (or choosing one, whether it's right on or a month off) isn't the problem, of course; it's a lady's strange attachment to it. And with attachment (specifically to a due date) there may come expectation, disappointment, second guessing, impatience. And with those things may come unnecessary physical discomforts...along with the discomforts of being 9+ months pregnant.

Attachment is probably the underlying cause of all suffering, and that's why I'm writing. To play around in the feeling of being attached to a due date. And maybe I'll stumble upon a suitable adjective to describe it. Or at least one good, concise sentence. So far no dice though huh.

So you pass your due date, you're still pregnant, and so you find yourself bumbling about in this mysterious, marginal land where all things are tinged with a strange hue of after wait. It's close to the way you feel when exams are done, but there are still 3 days of school left. It's the sweet pause after a completion of sorts, but it's more exciting...

So what have these three days been like?

Clearly I have a lot of free time on my hands. I can't concentrate on work. Sex. Answering a lot of phone calls. Feeling readier and readier, but actually not as "ready" as I did on the evening of the 29th. Sex. Or, better put, just as ready but less anticipatory. There indeed is a psychological shift that happens after the due date has come and gone. It would be easy to pitch it as anti-climactic, and while it is that, sort or, it's also kind of relaxing, and fun. Sex. I have a slot of lawless and unpredictable free time. Sex.

My friend Dug and I sat around in a Chapel Hill roof top bar one evening and talked about inventions, like many of you did over drinks back when we all thought we were smarter than we actually are. One of these inventions was an ATM dealing time. Like you could go to the ATM, deduct 5 hours when you needed it to study, or elongate a date, or...and conversely you could cash in a really lame day, deposit all that time, and just ff to later. Checks and balances; more like a debit card than a credit card of course.

Does this exist?

And then there's this baby I'm about to have, any day now.

I totally am missing my long hair.

And finally, what in the hole is up with PETA wanting to trade out the real groundhog for a robot? Have you heard about this? This might beat Cookie Monster's potentially turning into Carrot Monster to curtail the nation's immoderate percentage of fat kids. See ya, Phil.

http://blogs.villagevoice.com/runninscared/archives/2010/01/peta_demands_ro.php

OP (Original Prankster)...or Breech?

2010-01-27T13:11:00.005-07:00

This is sort of a PS to an earlier post about baby names. Does anyone have XRAY vision I can borrow for a while? I need to take a peek inside my 9 month pregnant belly and see what's up in there.

My girl child has been moving around a lot and no one, suddenly, can tell where her head is. It's been tucked nicely down at my pubic bone for 9 months; now, however, it wanders! How female hysteria...(does hysteria really need "female" qualification?)

This may pose a problem for a home birth, but maybe not. I'm saving myself from the traps of worry, knowing it only makes matters worse.

And oh! I have two new stretch marks that spell "II". They mirror perfectly the "I" that Willoree gave me on the exact opposite side of my lower belly. Rad.

PPS (post post scriptum, and no need to add the periods I learn):

The fruit flies are gone. Alacrity and jubilation slice o' quiche!!

Baby Names

2010-01-27T13:05:00.000-07:00

So far, the only babe who's getting my money is the one and only Kelly Lee who came up with Panko Jubilee for my girl's name.

Three more days, people, til the due date. I'm holding steady, not having a lot to write about...although there's actually so much to write about. It's all just so personal, though, and I keep going back and forth about how personal is too personal. I can't help, really, but to blur.

I was thinking Pots-n-Panica might be good name, too. And I love the name Mahala, as I love the lady Mahala.

My favorite BDAY card, from KOKO NY...

I am a 4%er, INFP 1%er. I am a rare breed of bed rest. I am a rarity? OK.

2009-12-27T13:23:00.000-07:00

(Note the date above...this was drafted for 30 days because it's just a silly cut and paste job...)

This period of time marks the period of bed rest and heavy reading for me. I'm following up on this past a month later, able now to report that my AFI went from 5.6 to 20 in three days following good counsel of my amazing team of midwives. Love you ladies. All is well; that's our hope, and expectation, as a constant...

The amniotic fluid that surrounds a fetus (unborn baby) plays a crucial role in normal development. This clear-colored liquid cushions and protects the baby. By the second trimester, the baby is able to breathe the fluid into the lungs and to swallow it. This promotes normal growth and development of the lungs and gastrointestinal system. Amniotic fluid allows the baby to move around, aiding development of muscles and bones.

The amniotic sac that contains the baby forms about 12 days after conception. Amniotic fluid immediately begins to fill the sac. In the early weeks of pregnancy, amniotic fluid consists mainly of water supplied by the mother. After about 20 weeks, fetal urine makes up most of the fluid. Amniotic fluid also contains nutrients, hormones and disease-fighting antibodies (1). The amount of amniotic fluid increases until 28 to 32 weeks of pregnancy, when it measures about 1 quart. After that time, the level of fluid generally stays constant until the baby is full term (37 to 40 weeks), when the level begins to decline.

In some pregnancies, however, there may be too little or too much amniotic fluid.

Having too little amniotic fluid is called oligohydramnios.
Having too much amniotic fluid is called polyhydramnios.

Either condition can cause problems for mother and baby or be a sign of other problems. However, in most cases, the baby is born healthy.

How are oligohydramnios and polyhydramnios diagnosed?
An ultrasound examination can identify the amount of amniotic fluid. This procedure measures the depth of the fluid in four quadrants in the uterus. These amounts are then added up. This method results in a measurement of amniotic fluid called the amniotic fluid index (AFI). If the amniotic fluid depth measures less than 5 centimeters, the pregnant woman has oligohydramnios. If amniotic fluid levels add up to more than 24 centimeters, she has polyhydramnios (2).

How common is oligohydramnios?
About 4 percent of pregnant women have oligohydramnios (3). It can develop at any time during pregnancy, although it is most common in the last trimester. Some 12 percent of women whose pregnancies last about two weeks beyond their due dates (42 weeks gestation) develop oligohydramnios, because the level of amniotic fluid tends to decrease by that time in gestation (1, 2).

Butterfly Pavillion

2009-12-07T15:36:00.002-07:00

Willoree and I drove to Denver and went to the Butterfly Pavillion last week. It was a mellow, sweet day...began with a nap on the way (hers, not mine), some gift shop browsing, a picnic, and then a long stay in the closest thing to a spa I've visited lately: the Tropical Conservatory, their 7,000 square-foot tropical rainforest...which is home to more than 1,200 butterflies and 350 plant species from around the world. Hawaii, and just minutes away. Willoree took my camera, I sat on a bench, tired and pregnant, and watched her "catch" things like leaves, walls, trunks, feet, concrete, her shoes, my belly, more leaves...

So yeah. Not a lot of great photos, but some really great humidity. And a possible boon to my CO complexion.

Since then it's been cold, very cold and snowy.

One morning recently I even ran my car into the curb, causing around $1000 worth of repair costs and a set of new wintery tires. We're all fine, the car's fine now, too. But I wonder if I should migrate to what all the other women in CO seem to drive -- why, the state car: the Subaru! And apparently these are popular for good reason, though I've never driven one. My mom used to have one when my brother and I were young; we'd ride around in the way back, stretched out prone. Seemed safe enough...

And last night we went to a party...a great gathering next door at Darlene and Leland's house. Great crowd, food, warmth...everyone was wearing their slippers and all the kids were downstairs -- firstly raising hell, then finally being sung to almost sleep by a 6 year old.

'Tis the season. I'm excited to get a Christmas tree and share home with all the family coming to town to see us. And then there's the dollhouse project gracias to Rob and Mopsy! (Details and documentation coming soon.) I feel compelled, already, to photo-document-og this. Anyone who's ever spent evening(s) assembling stuff for their kids will likely relate. Ben and I would wait until the last minute, but I truly think this effort will take several days if not weeks to complete.

I am already regretting I can't throw back some whiskeys...but then again, me, drinking, assembling, uhgh.

Swine Flu Shot Ingredients...

2009-12-01T12:53:00.002-07:00

Swine Flu shot ingredients...if anyone is curious. I haven't checked this source, but I like the line up a great deal, and I am open to revision, as needed. Makes me glad I haven't injected anyone I care about. God Bless America!

INGREDIENTS:

In addition to the viral and bacterial RNA or DNA that is part of the vaccines, here are the fillers:

· aluminum hydroxide

· aluminum phosphate

· ammonium sulfate

· amphotericin B

· animal tissues: (pig blood, horse blood, rabbit brain, dog kidney, monkey kidney, chick embryo, chicken egg, duck egg, calf (bovine) serum

· betapropiolactone

· fetal bovine serum

· formaldehyde

· formalin

· gelatin

· glycerol

· human diploid cells (originating from human aborted fetal tissue)

· hydrolyzed gelatin

· MSG (monosodium glutamate)

· Neomycin

· Neomycin sulfate

· Phenol red indidcator /

· Phenoxyethanol (antifreeze) /

· potassium diphosphate and monophosphate

· Polymyxin B

· Polysorbate 20 and 80

· Porcine (pig) pancreatic hydrolysate of casein

· Residual MRC5 proteins

· Sorbitol sucrose

· Thimerosal (mercury)

· tri(n)butylphospate

· VERO cells (a continuous line of monkey kidney cells washed sheep red blood cells)

Mapping

2009-11-30T08:53:00.003-07:00

Being high on pixel dust presents a map all of its own. It is visual, verbal, past, present and future; strange and unrelated, relevant, textured, subjective. I can read back posts and see, like a director chooses scenes for her film, myself in a more (or less) articulated way.

To map is to ponder how space and events punctuate us.

Mapping is a way for families to connect and intersect our own footprints (scattered across the "map") in and around each other. I am looking forward to the 2,000 miles mapped in red thin lines, drawn in the back pages of a glossy magazine, the arc at 30K feet moving from east to west at the end of December.

Come, family! We have a year (and a tremendous one at that) to map, then digest, then begin to map all over again.

"The events in our lives happen in a sequence in time, but in their significance to ourselves they find their own order, the continuous thread of revelation."
– Eudora Welty

Read more about mapping, see more visuals about mapping. Love the concrete, the abstract, the musings of some of my favorite people, doing their favorite things...pondering and being together.

(These images and texts from the brilliant Carrie Rose, as contribution to the Empathinc.com BLOG, here.)

The most sun ever, in Carbondale, CO

2009-11-25T21:26:00.008-07:00

Ben, Willoree and I spent an amazing weekend in Carbondale, CO, with friends and more new friends and then soaked in hot springs all Sunday afternoon. It was a 2-day trip but felt like a week's worth of rejuv, and I'm so grateful for Saramanda, Corey and their four cute as hell kids for having us out. It felt like home...

Corey, incidentally, knows the Whites of Boone County, WV. He is a lawyer and spent a lot of time in the Boone County courtroom, working. Jesse gets into a lot of trouble, not surprisingly. And I mean no offense here - but I gather he makes as many "poor decisions" as you may suspect. Mamie White, when first she met Corey, told him something like, "You must be from out of town, honey, because they don't come as pretty as you around here..."

And it's true. Corey's a pretty person, as is Saramanda, and all their kids. And their house and food and dog and scenery. All pretty. The list goes on. Some people, man.

Highlights:

Mule deer lurking; fires burning, Star Trek, salmon, sunshine, hot springs, hiking, no phone calls, Elaine Pagel's book about Thomas, tasty omelets, all around good food 24/7, feeling loved, loving back, naps for pregnant lady, barefoot weather (and snow on the ground), a worn-out daughter, one mystical and very amazing dream Friday night, banjo picking, radiant floor heat, storytelling, pulling Angel cards, pumpkin pies, window panes larger than walls in our bedroom.

Thank you, thank you, thank you! Loved it. A great kick off to my absolute favorite holiday.

Home (on the market, anyone...?) Gorgeous lighting, custom metal work, heated floors and cozy kitchen talk. The house reminded me of a boat, and was at one time the main family ranch house on the 450 surrounding acres. It's low to the ground and sprawling...a gorgeous place to be. And we had our own sun-drenched wing to live (and dance around in our underwear) in.

360 views of surrounding areas: Vail, Basalt, Carbondale, Mount Sopris, Snowmass...

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I can't wait to share and feast and to really, truly test out this liquid Calcium/Magnesium magical elixir I bought at the store yesterday. It's supposed to help a lady out who's suffering from heartburn, or indigestion, or whatever it is we call it when our stomachs are absolutely compromised by a growing and already probably huge-ish 8 month cooked baby ADD food.

But I adore being pregnant. My complaints are minor. I have a list of things I'm thankful for; every day, every year seems to grow longer and longer. You are on the list; I thank.

"Are You a Real Person"

2009-11-17T19:18:00.000-07:00

Ben got a letter in the mail today that asked, right above the clear window, "Are You A "Real Person"?".

This was a piece of junk mail, but a very good one. I asked him to think about it and get back to me.

For 44¢ a pop, actually less given bulk mail discounts and such, this is affordable and super interesting research.

Always on the lookout.

Andrew Cohen - I Heart Cults

2009-11-14T16:53:00.000-07:00

Ihhh.

So knowing nothing about this dude, and after hearing a rumor that he is the central figure of some kind of cult situation, makes me rethink the Debold course...as she's a student of his.

Any info?

Beyond the Divine Feminine - Course by Elizabeth DeBold

2009-11-11T11:31:00.002-07:00

It starts as an impulse...and then? Doors open, something "clicks", a class is brought to your attention, you receive an invitation...here's what has recently caught my eye. From her blog, www.evolvewomen.com.

It’s back! Elizabeth’s course—Beyond the Divine Feminine!!

We are truly thrilled to announce that in January we’ll be offering a telecourse, Beyond the Divine Feminine: Liberating Women’s Consciousness through History. This is not to be missed! If you heard her announce the course today on the Women on the Edge of Evolution series, please be sure to sign up for our email list (in upper right in Elizabeth's blog) and we will send you more information as soon as it is available.

Elizabeth takes you through the different stages of culture—from tribal to today—and explores how women’s consciousness developed over time. It will transform your perspective on what it means to be a woman and open doors to possibilites you never dreamed of. Her presentation is totally liberating! It will give you a lasting taste of a new kind of freedom that makes a new future really possible. You’ll be amazed by how light you will feel afterwards. Don’t miss it!

---

I am planning on taking this course. I'd love a few people to join me, remotely or whatever's clever. I think a small "study" group would be excellent support and fun. I've enjoyed her lectures and articles a lot, and expect this class to be great. Not sure how we could manage this, but what about starting a dialogue amongst ourselves and seeing what it leads to?

Fair or Unfair? A Parenting Question

2009-11-07T15:07:00.003-07:00

This is a parenting question, and by the time you read this something will have already been "done" one way of the other, but I thought I'd throw it out into the ether to get feedback.

Parenting is such a tender subject, and so often parents are winging it with respect to boundaries, or disciplinary stuff. And empty threats to our kids -- forget it. I hear so many it's just tiresome, not to mention totally ineffective and confusing for the kid. We try always to work as a team. We try our best to agree on issues BEFORE we need to implement any one course of action -- good or bad -- so we're not caught arguing or deciding in the heat of a challenging moment. When things with Willoree are slipping into crazy land (rare, but she's a healthy three...) we try to buy ourselves some time to come up with a logical and loving response before we deliver it to her. Case in point:

After lunch today, Willoree is taking her plate to the sink and kicks our dog, Quella, out of her way. A gentle kick, a full-body leg nudge if you will, but definitely a suspect behavior, and one that's gotten brasher and bolder over the past few weeks. Respect for each other (including the animals is HUGE in our household, and the verbal warnings/lessons just aren't seeming to do the trick. She "doesn't mean to" a lot, and/or "forgets" easily. Those excuses? I don't really buy them...she's just too smart.) I look at her and ask her what that was all about, and offer to take her plate for her and calmly send her to her room for a time out. She threatens that if I do that, she'll just, she'll just...and at a loss for words, she dumped the remains of her sandwich on the floor. I take her plate, say my "uh-oh" thing, and ask her again to go to her room. She goes to her room and then slams her door -- another no-no in our house -- and one that she's been taught several times.

So I see this as the trifecta of inacceptable, bratty behavior. (And maybe some residual effects of a week of Halloween candy? Our bad.) In any case, Ben and I are left wondering what would be a fair consequence. I'm pretty much the hard ass, so here's what I came up with and proposed to Ben. And this is the piece about which I'm seeking some feedback.

We're headed to a birthday party this afternoon and I suggested that the big delayed consequence love and logic style "lesson" will be to make her wait and eat her birthday cake at home. This means, sniff sniff, that the other kids will get yummy cake, eat it, etc. etc. while Willoree has to get a plate to go. (More details about the party have been posted -- read through the comments if you're interested. Mine is the 10th one.) Of course this somewhat breaks my heart, and part of me thinks it's really severe, but honestly: a piece of cake to go? Is it that big a deal? And is the pay off impact-wise worth it? We have decided to deliver the news ahead of time so it's not a surprise to her, or in any way mortifying (we hope); we've called the hosts of the party (also Love and Logic devotees) and forewarned them of what's going in and have asked for their support ("...heard you had a rough day; would you like to choose a plate to take home with you?", etc. etc.) and of course -- Willoree gets to eat her cake later.

The tactic of what we're trying here stems from Love and Logic philosophy. For those of you who don't know it, I think it's worth checking out. From their web site's FAQ page: Love and Logic is a philosophy of raising and teaching children which allows adults to be happier, empowered, and more skilled in the interactions with children. Love allows children to grow through their mistakes. Logic allows children to live with the consequences of their choices. Love and Logic is a way of working with children that puts parents and teachers back in control, teaches children to be responsible, and prepares young people to live in the real world, with its many choices and consequences.

Love and logic parents and facilitators value a child's confidence and dignity, healthy communication, and simple and practical techniques that are useful from baby age on up. In this case, I love the idea that we as parents can wisely choose appropriate and potentially "tough" lessons when the price tag is small, so that kids "get it" early on and learn to be wise, learn self-respect, and make better decisions later in life when the price tag is greater.

So. Be gentle. And let's discuss.

Slow is the New Fast

2009-11-06T07:16:00.000-07:00

Words to live by?

Thanks, Ann. You're all over me with your musings! Good morning to a world covered last week with snow, this week with sunny Chinooks. I need to eat more burgers.

Beauty Mark - The Film

2009-11-04T14:13:00.005-07:00

I live just outside of Boulder, one of the thinnest cities in the United States. I also will have a teenage daughter in ten years who could easily fall prey to the incessant and unrealistic (and American-made, primarily!) cultural standards of beauty. How do we achieve it? What if we don't? What happens when we lose it? Who will love us? What is self worth?

I am a big fan beauty and I find it in almost everything and everybody. I try to create beauty in all my relations, and I generally feel beautiful. I think my family is beautiful. And so -- admittedly -- there are times when I have a hard time understanding that other people don't see beauty surrounding them, or the beauty that IS them. I can name a million reasons why this might makes sense, given the old broken patterns that are still hanging around, but I recognize my choice in the matter, and I feel committed as a parent to send messages of a personal and unshakable beauty, inside and out. I know, too, that the first step is to live it. Which is why it's easy for me to commit to self-care (for me yoga, meditation, time alone, good food, my ladies, time with my husband...it can be anything for anyone) because that's largely how you get to the place where it all makes sense. You court, and eventually live from, your deepest and most settled places.

Last night I met Boulderite Diane Isreal at a holistic nutrition class I'm attending. Diane conducts weekend women's workshops, and said that when asked what their goals were the groupwould name two: how they could fit in smaller jeans and how they can help their daughters not get eating disorders. This very unfortunate irony was a huge catalyst for the creation of her (story on) film "Beauty Mark".

http://www.beautymarkmovie.com/default.html From BeautyMarkMovie.com:

Beauty Mark is for anyone who has ever felt invisible because they didn't conform to our culture's impossible, unhealthy, abnormal beauty standards. This courageous film examines popular culture's toxic emphasis on weight and looks through the eyes of Boulder-based psychotherapist and former world-class triathlete Diane Israel-- who tells her own story while interviewing other champion athletes, body builders, fashion models and inner-city teens about their experiences relating to self-image.

This deeply personal and funny film asks some tough questions ... How do our families influence our relationships with our own bodies? How do popular culture "standards" get inside of our hearts and heads? In what ways can sports actually make us sicker instead of healthier? Former champion athletes, including David Scott, Ellen Hart Pena and Brenda Maller share their stories while notable luminaries such as playwright Eve Ensler, author Paul Campos and cultural critic Naomi Wolf provide their insights.

An elite runner and triathlete until age 28, Diane won the Pikes Peak Marathon and several other major races after settling in Colorado in the early 1980s. She retired from competition after collapsing from anorexia (sometimes called "athletic bulimia", a disorder many athletes suffer from, but which few experts knew anything about at that time). Diane went back to school to become a psychotherapist and is now a professor of human development at Naropa University, a counselor and the co-owner of a women’s fitness center. She continues to run, but strives to live her life at a less frantic pace.

---

My comments: While not all the issues will pertain to you, you will probably recognize someone in the film. The subject matter and, to a large degree the theme, of "Beauty Mark" are personal and specific, but the message is massive and accessible. It's a call to action for us to find peace in ourselves just the way we are, and teach and share peace. We are being called right now by SO many sources, at every given moment, to live our truest selves, and stand in our our individual, specific beauty.

And many of you have seen this, I imagine. It's a Dove "evolution" video advertisement for their Real Beauty campaign.

We're all finding our way home. Who can you remind is beautiful today?

About the nutrition workshop, which I have been appreciating on many, many levels -- thanks Ann!:

Ann Gibson - Sustainable Living & Functional Nutrition Coach
Exquisite Living - Simple * Sustainable * Blissful
Phone: (303)993-4359
www.ExquisiteWellness.com
Phone & In-person Consultations Available

Google Profile - WTF

2009-11-02T16:20:00.002-07:00

Are you ever just tempted to lie? I don't know where or how this information will be used for or against me, but I just spent some time filling out a "Google Profile". I don't use gmail or many of Google's features (which I hear are fantastic, actually) so this is all really new and cyber-y fictitious to me. And since Google knows everything (kind of like another Go_ I know) I figured I'd better tell her this before you hear it elsewhere. From the page:

A little personality

I was born somewhat premature in a dusty pail in South Dakota to two cowgirls who were escaping persecution from the local churches. We were on the run for around 16 years until we finally settled in Asheville, NC, where I enjoyed my first bath, bagel and too many boyfriends to count.

Thank you.

Then, she asked me (my answers immediately follow):

Something I can't find using Google:
Toilet paper when the roll's finito.

My superpower:
The ability to change kittens into cats in less than a year.

Interests:
Insects, thinking about surfing, Japanese packaging, dark skies and illuminated foregrounds, healing, lipstick and boys.

I'd love to capitalize on Google's great idea and learn a little bit about you! If you care to, fill out the questions and post them back to me. Or post a Google Profile and I will probably never find it.

Just Launched :: www.Ilovewink.com

2009-11-02T14:56:00.003-07:00

A new project of mine just launched: ilovewink.com. These girls know style, love and how to run a business. And they're doing all kinds of great community things, too! Check them out. (Logo, ads, campaigns, web site, etc. all by 9-V.) Special thanks to Chrissy D and Sarah for making this such a fun project...

"Grown Man Now"

2009-11-02T08:25:00.001-07:00

I started a beautiful and captivating book last night about the family I have been fortunate enough to inherit...

Grown Man Now (blog) embodies the generous quality of life available to an adult with Down Syndrome. Pioneers in creative problem-solving, inclusion and community interaction for over 50 years, Jane B. Schulz, EdD, and her son, Billy Schulz (my uncle, my step uncle actually), are the author and subjects of inspiration and determination.

I'm just a few chapters in...more to come. It's a real pleasure meeting Tom, Isaac, Carrie, Billy, Jane -- all my family loves! -- page after page in new light. Thanks for publishing it and sending it to CO so quickly, Mary DeWit!

Blender Broke.

2009-11-02T08:02:00.001-07:00

Well, damn.

Our blender broke yesterday. Thank the baby Michael Jackson I don't have the flu anymore.

And so now I want to graduate from Osterizing and get a VitaMix and also an Excalibur dehydrator. I'm adding these things to my wish list, and selling some stuff from our garage to save up some money to pay for them. I will need to sell a lot of things. A lot of things.

I have this list of things I want, and images of what I want my home and life to look like...when was the last time any of you made a vision board? Collage of stuff you wanted, or things that make you feel good, or places you'd like to visit, your dream hair, etc. etc.? Two vision boards showed up at a retreat I was participating in by my friend, Beverlee Garb, and I got excited about getting out my scissors, poster board, glue, magazines, and acting like I was 13...staying up really late with a girlfriend and making one.

So yeah. Are you my girlfriend? Let's choose a night and get to cutting, girl. Then our lives will take on a glossier, more magazine-y hue. We will post our boards up (assuming they look good) in a place where we look often. We'll think of how much more creative we "used to be" (does anyone else feel like that?) and think of each other and of our sweet and deliberate unfolding lives...

The Flu, "The Balanced Plate", Cliches

2009-10-28T16:27:00.005-06:00

So I kicked what I am almost certain was the flu in a day and a half this October. Don't know if it was H1N1 but a flu made its way around our home and I had the least trouble with it, which is shocking because I always seem to be the lingering snotty, coughy, cleary her throaty person. Maybe that was the old me. Living in an arid climate has reworked my cellular make-up. I adore Colorado.

I made this magical elixir and I want to share the recipe here. It's from a book I use very often called The Balanced Plate by Renee Loux. On her web site she writes, "Start small. Start anywhere. Green living: it's contagious." Her book is thorough and deals with all manners of living well, living green, eating whole food and cleaning without poisoning your housemates and pets...basically it covers all the green cliches. As a rule, and like the rest of you, I don't like cliches. I kind of can't believe that people actually use them when they do. They do, though. People...But some things, while they're becoming cliche, don't mean to be cliche. Or maybe they're just excusable because I agree with their bones. But then marketing gets hold of them and suddenly. Well.

Don't you think that organic produce, for example, should be free of labels, stickers and marketing (the self-evident truth of "apple") and that our "conventional" foods should be marked the hell up with lists of which pesticides, modifications, etc. they contain? And, in a similar call for TRUTH (mine or otherwise), back in the early '90s, when our nation was deciding which Elvis stamp to issue (the cute healthy, hottie Elvis, or the bloated, old, fucked up looking Elvis) we should have chosen the latter, but we didn't.

There was a summer where my mom and Tom tried to speak using as many cliches as they could, which started off funny and got funnier.

Back to the f-l-u. I also drank a lot of elderberry tea with lemon. Here's the book cover of that book I was talking about:

Flu Buster Tonic

1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

1-2 cloves garlic

1/4 cup finely shredded ginger

2 tsp wasabi powder, or to taste

1 tsp cayenne pepper, or to taste

2-4 tbs raw honey
---
In a blender, combine the vinegar, garlic (if desired), and ginger and blend until smooth. Pour through a fine strainer and press wiht the back of a spoon to extract as much juice as possible. Discard pulp. Whisk in the wasabi, cayenne, and honey. Store in a glass jar in the fridge. Serve 2 tbs at a time on an empty stomach. Add to a cup of hot water for a warming tonic.

*Mary notes: I'd call it a burning tonic, but I liked everything about how this tasted, and especially how well it worked. I finished a jar in a day in a half. This, with plenty of grams of vitamin C (like 5 or 6) and a good antioxidant (Carlson ACES, I like), gave me life. Also, and in my sickest hours, I couldn't taste or smell much anyways...so whatever taste reservations you may have might be self-resolving if your symptoms are similar.

Also, lazy, I didn't strain out the ginger and garlic pulp so my version was pulpier than recipe version.

I hope the baby liked it as much as I did. (Hot hot fish and club, yo.)

Overpriced Pumpkin Patch

2009-10-27T15:42:00.001-06:00

But with llamas and goats and hay and broken rides! Against a Western blue sky in warm October it felt just like the '40s, except people weren't dressed nearly as interestingly. They wanted to charge me $7 to walk through a hay bale "maze" that might have taken 15 seconds. I was like, "....innhhh". We snuck into the broken down carousel and tried to make family portraits, but the light was too intense, and the battery too dying, and the moment was soonafter lost.

Tom left today and Willoree cried in the car on the way home. Thanks, Tom, for coming out to see us! And we'll see you after Christmas. You, too, Sheila...

EVER EVER EVER by Janice Lancaster

2009-10-27T09:15:00.000-06:00

I love this piece. Love it. Thanks to Janice and Adam for making sweet moves in a sweet, sweet world that's always shape-shifting in and out of human construct.

ever ever ever from Janice Lancaster on Vimeo.

HOLY GROUND - Brona's Story

2009-10-26T22:13:00.003-06:00

"Mentioning my child's name may make me cry. Not mentioning my child's name will break my heart." – Unknown

Brona's story: http://www.zoopy.com/video/n4z/brona

Spelling her N-A-M-E

2009-10-26T19:09:00.004-06:00

Willoree is spelling her first and last name and drawing a lot of pictures. She's proud. We are too.

There's something great about the quality of that red ink, as well. It's nice close up; it's nice on our dining room table. It's been wonderful having Tom here...

Frost Heads

2009-10-26T19:04:00.003-06:00

This morning I woke up early and took my dog, Quella, for a walk. Glorious morning and very frosty. I love fall. I love the ting in the air and the hue Colorado takes on around October. I try to remember to let go of things and let what needs to die do so, and to breathe more deeply and eat more roots. The older I get the more I appreciate winter, too. It's everything spring and summer are, just articulated differently and sans the easy to adore fluff of life. It's the same way I feel about this part of Colorado's browns and tans and beiges: it took me a while to get used to the colors that were hiding in and around what first appeared to be death, but now it blooms in every season without fail.

Some frost heads. Collards and a maple leaf; rudbeckia, and weeds and strawberries from our yard.

Temperance

2009-10-26T02:22:00.005-06:00

Someone described me and used the word "Temperance" last week. I pulled a tarot card a while back and it was Temperance, but reversed. Here's what it said:

You have gone to extremes - recognize this lack of harmony. Stop and consider how things are going in your life. Frustration causes emotional stress, your judgment is then lacking - you need to look before you leap. Slow down and re-evaluate every thing - a different approach is required. You have lost sight of your "art", your genius, your creative talents and your energies are being wasted and scattered. You are focused on the stress created by the conflict you are experiencing - forcing the issue is not the answer - you need total change.

Seek the advise of your "inner" Self - allow yourself to be quiet, experience the stillness - listen and the answers will be provided. Your inner self is always present and dependable - it is your true reality and when the time comes for you to find out who you are - the Voice inside of you will tell you who you are. Your experiences give you the material and data you need to make your decisions. Determine the course of your life - not the course that others desire for you - but the course that is right for you.

There are two sides to everything - the straight reasoning side and the "feeling" elements and both must balance - you can not have one without the other. It is time for you to become involved in the "outer" expression of your "inner" ideas. Each experience will tell you something new - allow yourself to flow with the experience and be led by your inner voice. When the time comes, you will know exactly what to do. It is through your "inner" awareness that you will know what is the appropriate action to take in any situation. Allow your old fears and habits to die away into the past. Calm down, avoid extremes and use the balance you have so carefully developed.

Distortions in the way of too much or too little of the above meanings. Sufi master, H2rat Inyat Khan put us on notice that "love in its lower manifestations turns into law by forming habits." Intemperance. Emotional imbalance. Addictive behavior. A problem of giving or taking in healthy proportions. In a sense this card functions as an emotional barometer. Not being able to take is a problem for m.my, and is little recognized in modern society, where giving has received a "good" label and taking has received a "bad" label. You must learn to be a good taker or you will be denying others their right auld pleasure in giving. There can be too much mentality creating abstraction and limiting heart. Too little mentality in the emotional.

Questions to Answer: What are you feeling optimistic about? How are you combining the resources available to you? What are you testing or trying out? What needs to be healed or brought into balance?

The above is taken from this site: www.crystal-reflections.com. I have several decks of the Tarot, which I usually fondle, pull and ponder, but I've been too lazy to learn how to read them with any true insight so I rely on sites like this one to get my brain juiced. I generally love what she has to say, and always find her messages right on for me. The Tarot, as you know, of course, does not know how to lie...

MOTHERHOOD

2009-10-26T01:44:00.006-06:00

I am pregnant, ~ 26 weeks or so, with my second baby. I love love love being pregnant. I feel I'm very good at it. I am relishing in my three and a half year old's spirit too. Mothering comes so naturally to me, like being high on pixel dust. Being a mama has has opened me up in all directions, and in more ways than I could have imagined. Cliche, perhaps. But do the mamas out there feel me? I feel motherhood is a large part of my purpose and joy. (I hope so at least, because this is what I'm going to be up to for the next little bit...) Truly: my heart breaks open a little more every day, and I can't wait to meet my next small and magnificent teacher.

I will send a CASH PRIZE to anyone who sends the best name. I am compiling BOY and GIRL names. Content details coming soon.

Willoree was born April 7, 2006. She was a home birth baby, born in a tub of warm water in her bedroom. She weighed 8lbs 8oz and measured 21" long. Support your local midwives!!

Our midwives: Karin Hoskin and Amy Colo (and Nichole Calaigas, apprentice, who sunlights as an environmentally-friendly cleaning lady while she's in midwifery school and apprenticing, attending births! (I created her soap bar Bizzy Beez logo, by the way.)

BRANDING 101

2009-10-26T01:23:00.002-06:00

I was recently asked to present at a small conference about branding. It was a great honor, and I created a few pages of notes and resources for the women to whom I spoke. If anyone's interested, they are below. In them I go over ideas about branding, marketing, offer some exercises to do to get juiced on your own identity creation, the basics of building web sites, terminology and some helpful resources (like affordable stock art and photography and printers I like to work with.)

In other work news...20 new illustrations of mine will be published in an Adobe Photoshop manual by next spring. This is a follow up to last year's version, wherein 20 or so of my older illustrations were published. They illustrated things such as contrast, proportion, balance, and other "design principles". No link to share about this, unfortunately.

Download the PDFs here.

Probably for the Better

2009-10-26T01:14:00.002-06:00

What is this shit made of?

And who carved this scary fellow to entice us inside to buy it?

"POETRY"

2009-10-26T00:58:00.004-06:00

This is one of those posts like a free jazz, or jam band, or an improv situation, or something else about which I make no apologies. I started this one night many months ago when I couldn't sleep. It is evidence of an inner landscape I feel called to court; I'm calling it Poetry.

DEDICATION

Let my eyes see the love that I am
And Love burn my eyes in its Purity
back to the Beginning
back to the Beginning

---

“Coincidence”

What is New is Newer than you think.
Don’t waste your time imagining what you will find based on anything familiar;
leave go ALL of that.
Continue only with what you need.
And spend your time
making the list
smaller and smaller
until you show up naked
and realize you have gone nowhere.

---

“Gabriel's Horn”

I am making music, not well, and shyly but I am.
I am hearing music more deeply, and differently.
It is the same with all languages:
Be rusty and unpracticed, be unaware of the reaches of your natural skillfulness,
but open your throat,
(your heart, your rivers, your grenades)
and trumpet something out.
There are no mistakes the more truly you know your landscape.

---

“Wanderer”

There is no such place as far away.
She journeys through a rose-cheeked youth onward, with some and without others, always changing her scenery, and
often seduced by a fleeting grasp of Radical and Definite arrival.
But the monochrome moments of stillness are what transports
Her Soul to its Absolute natural habitat: juicy, rooted and alive.

Was it even her journey to take?
And whose is it now?

---

“In Joy Our Springs”

Oh My God!
The soul’s water runs deep here, and pure,
and I am intoxicated, I am on fire with Love.
Juicy, rooted and alive Love
The kind that spills over and through your clothing;
Rolls off and onto others when you’re not holding;
The kind you can taste, hear, feel, sink into,
over and over and over again –
and always get the same first rush.

Outdoor living, indoor living,
it happens at the same time here.
No lack for anything outer, and besides,
people like Evan’s Tent will always find the perfect moment
to invite you in for a mildly neurotic chat
or another something of rare beauty
he’s peddling.

I love you women!
I love you our men!
Here and there and everywhere –
And specifically you, at the intersection of Angela and Harbin Hot Springs:

Thank You.

The Gestalt of you has touched me for always,
and I don’t even know half of your names.

---

“Ben”

Beloved, that is what you are.
My infinite thank you, in plain language, unedited and distracted:

There is no one else here but you as I write!

Target me in the life that is your prayer and show me your love always,
Our reflections do not lie,
and I will always
be looking your way.

---

“Cliff’s Notes”

I am.
I am not.
No, I am.

Willoree and Long Shadows

2009-10-26T00:46:00.003-06:00

Love song to God

2009-10-26T00:20:00.006-06:00

This is an excellent example of the perfect "elevator" speech, by no one in particular, to no one in particular. I will remember to sing this song. Thank HU.