September Sunrise

The colours of the sky...


Soften...




As the morn disrobes in light...

Revealing in brillance...

The day.

Raven Walk

Fault Line

Every now and again as I stand on the rim, I feel not quite a vibration but an electrical current. When I went on the fossil walk, I found out why; this is a picture down into the fault line through the canyon.

Wilde Discus Beasts

This is a rare siting as these wild beast tend to only come out at night under the cover of darkness....

History in shadows

Under direction by conquistador Francisco Vasquez de Coronado to find the fabled Seven Cities of Cibola, Captain Garcia Lopez de Cardenas led a party of Spanish soldiers with Hopi guides to the Grand Canyon in September of 1540. Not finding what they were looking for, they left. Over 200 years passed before two Spanish priests became the second party of non-Native Americans to see the canyon.


Canyon shadows

Conquistador in color

This looks like an airplane flying over. It's clouds illusions I recall...

Conquistador in black and white

Don Qioxote and Pancho Villa

Blessings

I don't know who wrote these words, however in the email forwarding I was blessed with receiving them. Though I've read them many times, there are moments when they finally hit their mark, especially the last line. A new friend is teaching me about blessings, for that I am grateful.

As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back. Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin.

The Breath of God

Looking into the night sky I stare breathless. The vastness of the space with all the nightly glory is immense. The stairway of the stars, the milky way stretches from one side of the earth to the other as stars actually twinkle. Can you hear their laughter upon your soul? Can you feel the connection through every pore with every one, every thing, here and there? Can you feel your soul fly? Do you 'know'?

9-26-71 to 9-13-07

Arnaud's spirit was released from pain and humanity.

A piece of soul
Stripped from me
Left mine exposed
Vunerable
Sad
Far a part has flown away
Released
Into the universe
To shine in the heavens
And dance among the stars

I celebrate your life and loving friendship.

Canyon Visions

Look who stopped by for dinner....

At the neighbors house he decided to stop by. He's a 12 point bull elk. Welcome to Arizona Exposure.

The Adventure Begins...

It seemed like a blur to get from Florida to the Grand Canyon but we made it here on Monday August 20th. Thank you MJ for the beautiful card that brought on the waterworks, you always have a way to do that.

Pictures do not do the canyon justice, there is just no replacing looking at it from one's own eyes. Exquisite, beautiful, and any other definitive terms one could describe beauty is not enough. It brought tears to my eyes to see it, one can smell the pine in the air. The animals are unique in their environment; it still amazes me to look over my shoulder and see it there.

I will be back on line 9/4, at that point I will post pictures of the 12 point elk that decided to have his dinner at the local juniper tree across the street from us. Boy are we tourist! When the mule deer decided to have a late night snack under our window that's when I started feeling like a character from Northern Exposure. Good thing I loved that show.

When one door closes...

Freedom! Shouted from within the walls of home. A healthy hand clap from David as I emerged no longer en employee of the hotel. My nerves gave a current of unknown excitement with the butterflies flapping. It was really nice how many people sought me out to give a hug. The 'best damned chocolate chip cookies' were gone in record time - 2 hours, Jeff brought in baked ziti, another great pasta dish with ham, peas and a cream of mushroom sauce and a bodacious spinich salad with tropical fruits - yum. I turned in the very unflattering blue shirts, my name tag and walked out the front doors.

Today I still think I'm just having a day off, and think I have to get up for work, when the work is more clearing of my abode. It's strange to see it so bare. David has been so nice to help with the use of his truck and muscles for the things for storage. Brad came over today to help, gosh it was good to see him. Thank you my cute young muscley friends - hell at my age any young man under 30 is cute!!!

Of course my best friend T who keeps riding the waves of changes as I call with we'll be there...no plans have changed....etc. Hey now she knows what it's like to be in my loop. Scary, huh?

All in all, after one door closes...walk to the open one.

Butterflies

In my belly. Time draws ever so close to the 17th and the departure date. Still so much to be done, but still a bit accomplished. I cannot thank my friends for all of their help with everything including being the great cheering section they are. Every time I touch the globe on my charm bracelet I think of them and as MJ put it, the connection we have where ever we are.

I look forward to texting on each leg of the journey, and calling with new discoveries. I look forward to hearing the stories from here as time progresses for each one of us. This weekend is my last weekend in St. Pete. Time to say good by to the Yaya's - a different set of friends I've kept over the years from working at a luxury hotel on the beach. 3 out of 4 of us are now grandmothers. Did I ever think about that title bestowment? How do we picture our grandmothers. Though MJ and I are the only two at this point grandmothers in the core group, we like to think, or maybe we are, creating a new imagry our children or grandchildren think of when one hears the term 'grandmother'.

By starting to pack my clothes, the new coats and stuff, I guess that made the determination of the move being more 'real'. It was funny at work, a co-worker commented on me coming back like I did last time. I ended his sentence with 'for a visit' as the last time I left and came back was for a totally different reason. Then I wanted to just close my eyes and not wake up, now I want to keep my eyes wide open.

The Door of Friendship

MJ is the owner of the door as it is through her we've all been brought together. The colors are symbols: Purple, MJ; Blue, Terry; Green, Dori and Red for me. One on each corner though we'll see if she can position mine in the West of her garden decor. In the center is a cumulation of all of us. Can't wait to see it in place, so MJ you've got yet another project.

Dueling Cameras

You've heard of dueling piano's well my brother came by for a visit and in a moment of comradarie we created 'dueling cameras'. Here's my results:

GGW 2007

Here it is, the girls gone WIDE tour 2007. As MJ so eloquently explained it, 30 years ago we all became friends. Back then we were girls gone wild, so now we've become the girls gone wide. Needless to say it was a success, after all where ever we are there is a party. If there isn't one, we make it.

How many years has it been since men stared at our breasts? It was rather funny as many different people, of all different age ranges read our shirts and all had comments like "looks like you still got it", or "you go girls!", or a simple glazed look below the chin line. A couple of us may end up in a college blog somewhere (get your mind out of the gutter we didn't flash any one!) We left it to their imaginations...

Each night or should I say morning we staggered back to the hotel room around 4am. Frankly the beds were SO COMFORTABLE I believe they help alleviate a hangover. Sure did me.

Despite the experience of being a source of joy for those around us, it was another bonding moment as my best friends and I celebrated the depth of friendship we hold sacred. What a send off to the 'wanderer' in the group. At least this wandering is joyously anticipated and gives them another place to visit.

So what do you think girls, GGW2008 in Vegas? Do we dare have a camera person?

It's so hot (even Rocky thinks so)

I wonder

I wonder if there are lightening bugs out West? Will the crickets sound the same? Is it true one can smell the wild sage on the breeze? What is the night music and how will it differ? Can tree frogs live in that climate? Will thunder boom, roll or roar?

I look forward to seeing the stars, I hear one sees more falling stars out there. How will the landscape look painted in the monochrome colors from the moon's watery glow? Do they put Christmas lights on cactus'?

This and so much more....I wonder.

Countdown

Well the count down begins. Today I made my flight reservations to get into Phoenix, the bus ticket will be waiting for me, and the hostel has my reservations for when I get in.

Right now it doesn't feel real. I remember making detailed plans on visiting my new grand daughter, and changing them at the last minute due to judegements of past choices thrown in my face like the rotten egg time turned it into. Hmm how could those be changed and the egg made fresh again? It can't, like the past it's always there; I just don't choose to let the past be my present or future. Choices.

This time I'm not going for anyone by myself, with that said I will say I'm a bit nervous, excited, and not just a bit wistful as anticipation flows. Changes are happening, sometime it moves so slow like erosion we don't see it, but it's building momentum as time draws near. Expectations? I'm striving to keep those at a minimum, as they tend to turn into predispositions which in turn tend to be disappointing. As we all know fantasy is most times better then the reality. I am leaving the expectations open to discovery of new places, new people, and new experiences with hope they are all exceptional.

I will miss my friends. I've come to realize how lucky I am they aren't selfish. Selfish in the fact they aren't trying to guilt me into staying, giving me bad reports of what's happening, or pouting. Instead they have reserved the best cheering section of the bleachers; and I hear their words of encouragement, their hand clapping, hooting and hollering. They and I know we're always with each other no matter how far apart we are and besides it gives them a new place to venture to.

Natures firewords

Surface stuff

Today is yet another day. July 9th. Mercury goes forward tonight, it was 89 degrees but felt like 99, humidity feels like 110%, gas is $2.85 a gallon (at least for my car) and I worked. Surface stuff.

I've been reading a wonderful series of books (Ugh, David I'm going to thump you on the forehead!), about Earth Man. It's written by a husband and wife team, she's an archaeologist and he's an anthropologist. Though the characters may be fiction the events are real, there's even bibliographies in the back for further research. Fascinating reading.

On another venture I've been looking up information regarding the magnetic north pole. What I found coincides with the changes throughout history in the geographical findings dug up. Those thousand years or more were but a blink of an eye or a layer in the rock. Global warming. I had to laugh when I read an article on my news regarding one of the major conferences in which our fearless leader refused to sign with regards to the global warming issue. In it, the article stated (and I'm paraphrasing) something with regards to lowering the global temperature several degrees. Who has their finger on the earth's thermostat? Hmmm, that's what I'd like to know.

Either way, personally, I don't think we have much say in the issue of nature taking it's course; neither did our ancestors thousands of years ago. Have we changed much with regards to beliefs of our climate changes being curses from the unknown all powerful? Not likely. I'm pretty amazed as I read, (yes I know they're fiction!), how similar our governments and social atmosphere hasn't really changed all that much. Even warfare was atrocious. That hasn't changed much either, just the weaponry used.

There is no easy answer, but the same story keeps coming around. Hmm, isn't there a quote somewhere with regards to learning history or be doomed to repeat it?

August 21st 2007

This is the new starting day at the Grand Canyon for my sister and I. Moves it up a bit.

Really?!

Yes, really.

Defined as to bring together again; to compose or form anew. To re ally one with a fact, an idea, a notion, a belief, a statement.

This word used as a form of interjection has been floating around quite a bit this week. Popping up or should I say out of mouths as myself and others come into contact with bits and pieces of information. Nothing distinctive stands out in my mind to give a 'for instance' it's all floating there as if it is it's own.

It stands on it's own when the word comes out as an statement as another has just given us their information. It's like standing on the edge, 'do I believe that?' 'could that person be telling me the truth?' 'could that actually happen?'

Yes, really.

A little inspiration

I checked out a coffee table book by Annie Leibovitz. It was not only exquisite (as I admire tremendously her visions), it was provoking. I espcially loved the placement in the book of Thomas Moore with his group right before the grouping of President Bush. The placement in the book is a statement itself. And ALL of her photos tell a story in every line, composition, and shadow. So I took out the camera and took pictures of my sister and had her take a few of me.

It's a learning process.

Sifting through sand

A friend and I went to a speck of a town in South Carolina. Not much redemption, at least townwise. That is what I mean by sifting through sand. We went to check it out for her; I in my optimistic viewpoint knew there is always something redeming about a small town. As I said before, there wasn't much. Though we didn't take the time to explore the waterways; it looks like a fantastic kayaking place there was a couple of funny moments at my own expense.

We would be sitting at the great little fish store G's friends have, watching the locals and what not. One came in to sit and talk with us. His southern accent was so thick I barely understood him, I would look at him and say "Sorry?" so often he slowed down in talking and looked at me like I was stupid. I could only laugh about it as I realized I didn't understand their slang and twang. When asked what his priorities in life were; he enunciated quite well, "fishing, God, fishing, family, fishing, work, fishing." Who could ask anything more?

That afternoon after a well deserved nap we went to a nearby town called Camden. Exquisite little town. I was playing with my new camera and didn't get as many shots as I wanted, but it was nice. I think I almost became an enemy of the state when our hotel desk clerk had told me proudly how they took part in the Reveloutionary war and have homes from the 1700's. I looked at her strangely and said; "Is that all?" she looked shocked until I answered, "Where I come from we have homes from the 14 and 1500's. These must be pretty modern." Not surprising, she wasn't interested in where I came from. She kinda sniffed at G when she told her.

But here's Camden, a little twisted but cute. Oh and the house is a REPLICA of a 1700's very rich mans house.

Why??????????????

I remember a beautiful little elvish girl constantly asking her mother the same question; "Why?" After given answer after answer after answer the question remained, only to be finalized by a stern "Because!". It didn't suffice then, and it doesn't now when we are the ones left behind echoing the words of a little girl, "Why?"

Happy Birthday Kierra, have a dance with Mada for me.

Love Auntie Nancy

Obit

To everyone:

Love.

The world and the appreciation to see, feel, hear the beauty and love within and all around.

Faith in yourself and your own unique perspectives and the abilities to live with and by them. (Not just survive, but live)

Acceptance of anyone for their beliefs without judgement.

Courage

Faith in yourselves to step outside the boundries and be free.

Forgiveness. In self and others.

The rest is just dust collectors! Ok Terry M your turn.

Vertigo...

"I'm at a place called Vertigo, it's something that I wish I didn't know, but you give me something I can feel" from the song Vertigo by U2.

I resound with those words as the life is spinning in it's own inner ear infection. haha. Beware my humor is becoming dark as we've learned from the continuation of experiences meaning death and more death, it's how we handle it. Sorry there just isn't any more tears, though a few will seep now and again; I'll let them. Now irony keeps laughing with it's stupid innuendos like the time my ex and I lost 8 people in 1 year. I once told my other ex "Aren't you glad you're no longer related?" he didn't think that was funny. I did, because at that time I wished I wasn't the one related.

A dear dear friend has let me know he has 90 days or less to his time with us on this plane. Like Mada (who helped plan her funeral), he goes on the same planning for the outcome absorbing the love from us who love him dearly and will continue to do so as a light in and around us. I thought this wasn't supposed to happen till I turned 90!!! Damn it MJ, Terri and Dori, we'd better all go together in our sleep in the same French or Italian Villa we retire to AFTER we've all hit the century mark. For some reason we are a core; I know you're part of mine. After all you're the first I call, no matter what.

So the fire is now lit under my ass. Know anyone who needs furniture?

Thunder

I drove into St. Pete last night to pick up a friends daughter for her to spend the next week with us and also into a tropical storm. Barry.

Today I sat and listened to the deep baritone roll of the thunder. It made me think of drums which thunder always does. The sound is deeper here on the west coast of Florida then it is on the east. It catches me by surprise now to hear it here; as I've grown used to it from the St. Aug side. There it has more of a metal ping to it; a different nuance. Is it because it comes from the open seas? When a storm enters the mouth of the Gulf of Mexico does the land mass around it create a different sound vibration?

All things considered it's still the music of nature.

Connecting the dots

"Firstlight" by Sue Monk Kidd is a vignette of contemplative memories with resounding spirituality. It brought tears to my eyes from the beginning as I read her truth's revealed, reminders of reasons and connecting the dots in humanity.

One of the meanings in the dictionary of the word 'Story' is a statement regarding the facts pertinent to a situation or question. It is through those we connect the dots with questions asked from our souls by seeing a part of self within the words shared by another; or share our words for others to see a part of themselves.

"When a suffering is shared, its weight is divided. And when a joy is shared, the delight is multiplied."

I leafed through a couple of pages in my journal book, and some of the entries of this blog. Snippets of profound entangled with the mundane with answers sometimes found along the way.

I still write on "The Vortex" (see October 06), a story inspired from the book titled "From the Dust Returned" by Ray Bradbury, but only write on it now and again. My mind has been consumed by another 'story' I'm writing. My 'myth'? It covers both the wishful thinking, and the realities of taking my 'cinder blocks' I have built around myself. The cinder blocks are made with tears, pain, anger and overall hurt; impenetrable to keep out the pain but also the blessings that accompany. The sweet with the bitter; the best chocolate; bittersweet. All in all it's still a story, like a legend, based losely on truths surrounded by make believe in order for the lessons to be received. Through the dots of connections I'm creating a 'safety net' for self to open more freely, but still keep my self intact.

Cha...Cha...Cha...Changes

The bridge of the old song rings through my mind as changes swirl all around; a mist of vapors echoing with words, dreams, visions, actions - real and imagined.

Why? This has been the most oft asked question to my announcement of going to the Grand Canyon; and "Why not?" is usually my answer. As much as I want to call them and try to get there early, I hold back. Saying goodbye to much loved items and the memories associated with them (I'm not saying good bye to my friends.), change boils the tea down to what really matters the most. How can I live without this or that? It's the memories associated with the items; like my grandmothers Hudson Bay blanket - which is going with me. That blanket kept me warm throughout my life; it was my cocoon when I was a teenager, it nursed me through fevers, dried my tears and was the presence of continuity when I moved with extreme little. So off we go on another adventure.

Looks like my sister will be going to the Grand Canyon too. It'll be nice to know someone there, and to have a room mate that can deal with my habits and wierdness. Not to mention I know MJ will have a backup person to report my goings ons. Especially if there should ever be a 'stable manager' -ha ha.

Preparations begin. I got the camera to start. The Rebel XTi with a 300 mm lens. Right now I'm getting to know it, we're becoming friends, despite my frustrations with the 'computer' brain in it; it's teaching me to think outside the proverbial box so that when we become inseparable the pictures will be AMAZING. In the meantime (isn't there always a 'meantime'?), I grunt, issue a few colorful words, then read the manual and find all I had to do was push a button. Hmmm. Learning process.

Which feeds into the contemplation of Terry's blog on obits. I'll write one, but after I've thought deep about it. It's a well thing.

The Best Damned Chocolate Chocolate Chip Cookies Ever

Through various experiments with a base recipe here is the results with optional ad ins at the end:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

3 Cups of all purpose flour
1 cup of unsweetened cocoa powder
2 tsp of baking powder
1 tsp of kosher salt
3 cups of granulated sugar

Stir together in a bowl with a fork until well blended then add:

3 whisked eggs
4 sticks of real butter melted
3 and 1/2 tsp of real vanilla extract

Stir together until it's well mixed then add:

1 12 ounce bag of chocolate chips

roll balls about 1-1 and 1/2 inches in your hand
put on parchment with plenty of space for spreading

cook for 15-16 and 1/2 minutes each tray. keep an eye on em to see if the edges are crisping.

Now for special variations:

Cinnamon - add 1 tsp to the dry ingredients
Red Chile pepper - add 1/8 tsp to dry ingredients

or

let your imagination roll;

macadamia nuts maybe?

I like to think this is worthy of Paula Dean.

Two sides to every coin

What do Napoleon, Isabella of Castile & Cat Stevens have in common? History.

In grade school we're taught the remarkable things Isabella of Castile did for the 'birth' of our country. Well if it wern't for her I'm sure a lot of things would be different. Like Napoleon she has two sides, a remarkable example of her faith, a mover and shaker, but with those there are also the 'yang' side. While she and her hubby King Ferdinand were carving their niche in history their faith brought in the Inquisition to Spain as a way to conquer the Muslims and Jews.

Yes right about now my mind is singing a bar from Mel Brook's History of the World Part I.

Then we come to Napoleon. What did he do to remain in the history books? Granted there are a lot of dictators since then that have done much worse then him that barely get skimmed over, however according to a recent PBS show on the Inquistion he participated in closing that chapter; after all it did begin in France.

Interesting how when were taught in history certain activities are ignored in the teachings.

Where does Cat Stevens come in?

Read about him, why is a simple musician given so much power with intimidation of persecution to enter the US?

Religious persecution.

History is philosophy teaching by example, and also warning; its two eyes are geography and chronology.
James A. Garfield20th president of US 1881 (1831 - 1881)

Time Passages

I had to laugh as I read MJ's blog about being lost in Yawnkars, after all that's phoenicly Southern. As she had found her new home, getting lost is sometimes getting found. Which I don't think Brian would've appreciated a call for bail money.
Time seems to slip by in the breeze (tainted with smoke for now), but where it seems like yesterday we were lost in Yawnkers, here it is almost half way through May!
Most already know I've accepted a position at a hotel in the Grand Canyon, I will be leaving here in the fall. In the meantime I am downsizing literally and figuratively as my writing continues. A story borne from the first inkling of this move is still evolving, with a bit more to go but something that I want to finish before I move. Susan is back living with me, it's been a good experience for her and me as I will be living with someone in a dorm room when I move. Not too bad, I think or hope, for someone who's been alone for 9 plus years?!
Despite the cruix of being anxious to go West, I'm needing to sort through all sorts of stuff - once again literally and figuratively, to go onto a new journey. In the meantime...the story continues

Tagged!!!

ahhhh! Bless your heart...
6 wierd things, well let me see about that. That you might not know! (that might be tricky)

1. I prefer to watch PBS, documentarys, and such rather then the 'normal' tv shows.
2. I consider a great museum to be a sanctuary, a place of worship, to learn, listen to my spirit.
3. Susan says I'm analytical, I pick everything apart - especially myself.
4. I collect feathers (I have to find them so don't bring me any)
5. I collect gay boyfriends.
and last but not least...
6. I like to eat Jiff peanut butter on my bananas.

MAY IT END HERE!

Passages

Most of you know I've been holed up in my cave writing a story. I'll continue, but tonight has been filled with welcome interruptions. I was asked recently by a new friend if I've ever met people who I felt I've known for a long time. My reply was "a lot". I consider myself fortunate to have those come into my life that add another link through time. Especially when they come at a time which seems trying due to the everyday day to day gristmill; they're a breath of fresh air reminding me of my own choices in handling of these passages. Seasons? Maybe, then it's those that have been forever in my life like MJ, Terri, and Dori that will call or email just to keep me in focus.

A time for everything

My sister has been staying with me for a couple of weeks, with the intentions of staying here. We both planned it, and were enjoying it. This past weekend we went to St. Pete to go to her grandson's birthday party. Unfortunately I was unable to go, but stayed with a friend, Geneva, to have quiet and write. It was nice.

As we came into town Friday night Susan was called. Her best sister-friend was in the hospital with a heart attack. After dropping me off, she went to see her. The next day after the party, she put a few things in storage. Plans hadn't changed. At least until she went to see her again. She seemed in shock when she returned. She let me know her friend was had more tests done, only to find out her bones were deteriorating at an alarmingly rapid rate. She had been diagnosed as terminal, no more surgeries will be performed. We talked a bit, then did our bit of relaxing each in our own ways. That night before I fell asleep all I could think of was Susan and the interconnection she had with her friend. They were very much like the kindred spirits my friends and I share.

The next morning we packed and headed back. On the way we spoke of the strange timing this was. As Susan had not found a job yet, I suggested she go to her and take care of her. I wasn't sure if she thought I was trying to get rid of her, which I wasn't, all I could think of was my friends. I choked on tears imagining one of them being taken away from this world at such a young age. We would be devastated (at any age). I know if any one of us would have the same situation, all of us would go to her, be there to comfort and make her life as easy as possible, share the tears and laughter as we had done throughout our lives. I helped her plan the way back. I cried jealously of how she'd get to hold my Mada before me. At that time a semi carrying empty chicken cages roared by showering us with feathers. I had to laugh between the tears. I felt Mada comforting me. I know she'll wait for me, as I know she wants me live. Freely.

Best Friends

It is through them I live vicariously; in that I mean by having someone to come home to, to put their arms around you at night, to talk with in bed, to have orgasims (it's been so long I can't spell it right!), to bicker with when you don't see eye to eye but best of all to kiss and make up because you love each other, to watch a movie on the couch cuddling and eatting popcorn, and all those other wonderful day to day things that we normally take for granted until they're gone; not to mention one who likes to do things different. Shall we not even venture onto theatre? lol. Maybe my expectations are high, but I've settled for less before and found it wanting, I'll not do it again. It's not fair to me. They each claim their own personal depths, but each of us are so very much like the ocean with multitudes of depths and are very beautiful women. What in the heck would've made us have such a strong friendship if we were not tied by the strings of time? As someone we all know and love (who'll never live it down) said so eloquently; we are the perfect woman, but I think we are perfect women.

On Dating

1st dates and all that. Actually went on one (surpise, surprise), where the guy opened the door and paid for the evening. Had fun listening to 80-90 rock, the band was good. We went out with another couple, friends of his. They were nice people. Dancing and drinking.
As conversations were, I found we had almost nothing in common. At one point he told me "to keep going out [with him] I expect you to keep an open mind". In otherwords "I pay you lay". I do have to put in here I did want to pay with real money for what I drank, but he insisted. It became obvious at breakfast when he and his friends talked how they continually enjoy a constant round of weekend drinking and dancing.
I enjoy it, especially when my friends and I can actually get together and let loose, but it's not the goal of every weekend or time off. There was a time in my life where the weekends were for nothing but. That was then, this is now.
I have found with each encounter I learn something new about myself, and my own expectations keeping open room for the unknown to be a blessing. I have also found questions that can only answer themselves in time. Will I recognize and be able to have great conversations with another? What is fun?
I have recognized the searce for commonality with those I do encounter to find it lacking. Why would I continue on that line, when it's just a set up for failure? Thus no second dates. Frankly I'm glad of that. Change is necessary for 2 to fit into each other's life and lifestyles, even from the beginning, however if those changes are for the negative what can that bring besides another lesson in heart ache? Couples go through ups and downs together, it's how they are handled that make them or break them. My family of friends project those lessons beautifully. As they stay true to themselves. If I can't have that in my life with another person, then I won't. Either way it is what I make of it.

Gifts

I found a feather today, which most of you know is my kinship with Mada. I'll add it to my bowl of favorite 'gifts' in various forms from those left at my door, to those left at my feet.

I have to expound on the gifts I have and acknowledge their blessings. Not only the material things, but the true gifts of my family of friends and family. They are what make my life beautiful, as I hope, I compliment theirs as well.

Though I may live alone, I'm am not, far from it. Inspired through Hafiz here is what I wrote:

Alone?
I stood out side today
The sun kissed my tears away
As the wind ran its fingers through my hair
And caressed
The warmth enveloped me within its arms
And whispered in my ear
It's sacred love.

I was irritated when I wrote "Because" due to the implication of how one cannot be happy without someone. They can't, however, because I live alone doesn't mean I am.

The season of love, if that's what you call it

Well it's the start of a new week after Valentine's day when every bride, mother of the bride and friends are going to get their wedding ANY way they can.

I took care of 3 brides and 2 soon to be mother-in-laws today which were nasty, except for one. She was very sweet. This week I expect more. I can only imagine the ones who were nasty didn't get what they expected for Valentine's Day or had to drag it out of the other parties involved. It was like the day after Christmas, nasty.

This only reminds me of expectations. Pre dispositioning. Dreaming of the future only to find it's not all roses. The roses have thorns for a reason. I've done my own share, and catch myself when I still do it. Do I still dream? Yes, I have loads of them.

Because...

Went to see a new movie out, chick flick, with a friend. I think I was the only person there that didn't like it.

How many times have we heard:

Don't do that ... or you'll ...

Don't wear that...wear .....so you'll impress him/them. They like that.

Try to be...

I find that a bit discerning since if you don't do that special laugh, or nervous rambling, wear that bold bodacious print rather then the pleated skirt, or etc then what about YOU will they see? What about YOU will they like?

But then again, why take my advice or you'll be alone like me

The Contemplation of Light

When does a stone well seem like the turrent of a castle? The only difference is one goes up, the other goes down. But for the one that goes down it goes a long, long way. And then there's water, if it's not a dry well. The water tends to stay pretty much the same temperature; cold, because it sits at a certain line below the freeze line. At least that's my own rationalization I've come to dig up from a very dusty old memory that managed to brush itself off in my mind. AKA the library of confusion.

So now comes a light, small but strong, following it's path of least resistance via gravity to plop within the water. It doesn't fizzle out like that of a flame touching water, oh no, this one has to go under still glowing and bounce it's way back to the surface via the bouyancy of the water and the vaguely remembered scientific explantion of "magic". still glowing. Fighting the erosion of the water within the tiny cracks leading to a small battery funding it's fuel to stay lit.

I stare. Waiting. Knowing that eventually it too dies. Without cause or reason it started it's death with its first flicker on it's journey down.

"Nan" a voice called from above, and no she was defiantly not 'God'. That voice is everywhere and no where and sometimes comes from within. But this was a human voice. One I know well. It usually came with skittering sounds that floated away leaving behind stripes on the wall that resembled vines.

But now I could see. All around

"Plop" something else fell in. Looking for another light I noticed the reflection. "Ziploc". Hmmm, maybe that was a sacrifice for the dying ember slowing being tortured by moisture.

In the sacrificial gift I noticed more fuel for the fire to keep going.

I looked up and saw what looked like a little blonde girl by the well.

"Stay away from the light Carolanne!" I yelled with a grin.

"Come into the light Nan!" it yelled back with a chuckle.

Slowly my gaze caught the wall as the light filled the room. I saw rungs! As I put my hand up to the first rung my hand held tight. And instead of droplets of water, a book fell away to the pile that was being left behind.

Thank you G

Shattered

In the darkness shadows fall
Weak and weary I tumble then fall
So on scraped knees I attempt to crawl
In the distance I heard a ravens caw
Deep inside I shivered upon my recall
A maul
The distorted realities of a lifeless doll
That lived a life of its own law
Continuously bumping into wall after wall after wall
Until the maul
Wherest my eyes opened and I finally saw
The height and breadth of the tall wide wall
I opened my mouth with an attempt to call
But my voice was strangled from what my mind saw
Was hope taking one last fall?
It crushed and splinted as we hit the wall
And in the darkness it did fall

written 12/8/05

Alone?

I stood outside today
The sun kissed my tears away
As the wind ran its hands through my hair
And caressed.
The warmth enveloped me with its arms
And whispered
Its sacred love

History, or something like that

My oldest sister graciously offered her log on to a geneology site which is proving to be rather ambigious at best. On my own I did find my grandmothers marrige info and subsequently discovered her full name. Nannah Edith Camburn.

No one I know has any information on her lineage, father, mother, etc so I'm finding tid bits here and there. Census records mostly, though those aren't so detailed. Unfortunately birth and death records get pricey so those will have to be garnered slowly.

Like a tree that grows.

Under a cloud

Watching Grey's Anatony it all came back. The feeling of her skin, her little hand in mine as her shell all but remaind. A reminance of a little life that touched so many. Those little fingers ever so ethereal in their beauty and structure. A once living symbol still exists on a pope's sceptor - her hand carried across through time to have blessed so many with her living form - especially me.

As Mars flew high into that August night sky, her spirit flew in such brilliance shadowing the planets red glow with her own light. Off she flies to dance with a friend, meet some relatives and occasionally remind me she still loves me with presents of feathers.

I wonder if I collect enough of them to make wings large enough, can I fly up to be with you?

Not yet it seems, perhaps for a long time should I be so blessed?!

Slowly the lump of ancient ice melts in my throat. The ice as ancient as the shelf in the artic, slowly melts evolving into tears that fall filled with salt of timeless ages. Covered by the cloud that hovers so momentarily, I know this too passes and the sun comes out again.

Create

That's what the file folder says, so here I am. Back on the blog. I've had heartfelt expressions of wondering where I was and how was anyone to keep track of my mind. Of this I can only say 'beware of all who enter' for once one has seen what this mind offers will only add a different slant to a perception.

Thank you Dr. Chris for breathing life back into the old computer (I was going to say hard drive...but that could have such conotations don't you think?!) So I won't damange a poor innocent man as yourself.

I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. I did despite my daughters attempt at drama to do otherwise. It was still filled with love.

Like life, love can be found anywhere as long as it starts from within.

Namaste

It was clouds illusions...

Remember the song Send In The Clowns? Classic. This evening I sat on my balcony watching the clouds float by, serenaded by Miles Davis. Different shapes, evoking memory or inspiration. I thought of how Mada and I loved to watch the clouds and name shapes out of them; sometimes silly things. On the journey back from her funeral I watched the clouds. On our kayaking day Terri told me that we had a Simpson's Sky, as the clouds dotted the sky as in the cartoon. I can't help but look up every day and every night to watch the stories written there.
The line from the song came into my brain, almost like an epiphamy as it made me think of how througout my life I didn't really know love at all. To explain it further only reeks of ego as there were and are different stages that gave different facets of love.

Nature is a mutable cloud which is always and never the same.” Emerson

The call of the wilde

Was it just that? I celebrate and embrace the lack of dysfunctional emotional strings. Do I want something more? Yes, but not at least from this venue.
I excitedly told a couple of friends and one said "I hope this works out for you". The question being, what is the perception of "work's out"? A marriage? A good time? A committment? A one night stand?
I know it "worked out" to what it was/is supposed to be....at least for me.

Grief

It takes a tragedy to reflect divine forgiveness. In the news regarding the families of the Amish girls killed by a milk truck driver, it was noted how the Amish leaders have set up a fund for the killer's widow and three children.

The Amish were not the only victims.

I cannot, nor do I ever want, to imagine the phases of grief those parents face. My grief is a creature of a different nature.
My forgiveness is to no one by myself. For others it is a path upon which angels and I fear to tread. Eventually thought it comes down to it. It being forgiveness. If one doesn't forgive eventually the anger, depression, and darkness eats the soul like an acid. Getting to that point is a journey all on its own.

Dive into one's soul
Where the still waters fun deep
Past the broken dreams
Where soul and stars meet
Where time is but a shadow
An you your self meet (seek)
Through the promises
Even those we didn't keep
Past the rich landscape
That made us today
Deeper into the unknown
Where the soul still weeps
Through out life and death
Our tapestry we weave
Till we chance upon the place
To where all souls meet

Soul Mates

Well what an eye opening reality. Just like patience when one prays for it they get the lesson. No different then those who have come into our lives. I can look back and wow those 2X4's were at it again!
So when you look back at those who have loved, left, and loved again, what was the lesson they taught? Do you realize they were a 'soul mate'? There to teach you that lesson? What did they reflect that YOU needed to know? Did they treat you as badly as the person in your head did? Do you or I for that matter expect someone else to treat you or me any better then you or I treat ourselves? Words, actions, deeds, thoughts all of those are included. What a concept.

The Vortex

forward note; this is a story I've created.

As a memory, each room is numbered 13. Though the rooms are different, they’ve been numbered so there wouldn’t be a descending or offending order. Clothed in their thin veils, spiders touch up the silk threaded duvets; woven tightly to cocoon the occupant when reserved. Black, white and red candles blaze with blue flames casting a thousand year old glimpse off timeliness throughout the quiet halls.
The fountain in the stone foyer slips the memories of exotic nights; tell tale within the rhythm of the cascading water to those sequestered on the couch; listening. The stories told in a monotone lullaby; weaving a mist through the eyes of those waiting; and they thought they were taking a break from the heat outside. Waiting.
Quietness moves as a shadow; a breath moving as would an echo. A ripple. Left behind in it’s continuing wake is Noise. As Quiet goes through the hotel, lingering every now and again in certain places replenishing it’s energies; Noise insinuates the rush of air that closes a door, the dance of the paper floating in the wind captured in graceful swirls and arches. Nerveless, there are hours; Oh! That feels like days, where Quiet has gone out on the back of a carriage for a tour of the town. Sometimes to remind itself or converse with the others of that Time. Leaving Noise to knock around dust motes, as it’s momentous wake fades to but a restless whisper.
That Time, what should be contrived to be but a stale wind; Time. Then and again, but now. Within its breath, whispered a hush capturing attention of few; only those that know or believe. After all this is the New World’s oldest city. Where things past exist in the back of peoples minds are welcome to be; what some call ghosts, ectoplasms, witches and anything belonging to the mysteries of the metaphysical.
Occasionally laughing with the rustle of the leaves as it sees a play. As surreal as the multitude of ghosts that walk, lay, laugh, cry and play in the crowded streets. Except mid day when the sun bets it’s fury unwittingly in the sands or black top. Burning. Summer. In essence a winter of it’s own where when one steps outside the calidity is so biting it sends chills crawling up the arms as the sweat pores expand. Even the heat is forgiven as the ghosts play during the nights when the moon is full; three days before and three days after.
There once was a moment that Time stood still and Quiet screamed. Her hollow voice shrilled so loud even the living shivered and quickly moved to what was an attempt to safety. Noise hitched on the echoing vibrations of Quiet’s scream swept through on what could only be described as a preliminary cold-front; the kind that poses as a natural warning to those of an impending storm. No one living or dead could imagine the storm-front that came in. In that brief moment a gaping hole appeared. One that lies between planes of time. An open door for Shadow to creep forth its darkness; bringing on his tale the unwanted cousins, uncles, aunts, nephews from the Other side. The dregs. Lost souls and unknown entities that buoy hate, harm and anger. The vortex has been opened!
“Order!” the ancient judge roared from his misty dais. “Order in the court” his gavel struck the mist clanging across time. So there, they gathered as a fog. The ghosts in the once used courthouse; they layered. Some standing on the beds, some through them. The old room slowly taking upon itself its ghostly appearances of what was between Times folds.
“Wouldn’t the ball room have been better?” one was heard muttering.
“It’s an emergency meeting” the bailiff spoke. A hole through his forehead reflecting what was beyond; “and it’s currently in use for the temporary vestigages of today’s youths”. As he spoke the crescendo of music seeped through the walls and doors like oozing blood.
“It appears” the dusty judge quieted the room before him shaking the cobwebs from his pale face, “that the vortex has been opened. I want an investigation as to how it was done and how to close it. Most importantly the latter, at least for the moment. Any former psychics present?” His piercing eyes scanned the crowded room. A cold mist was forming from the presence of so many ghosts.
“Here”, spoke a quiet woman veiled from head to foot in white, the wooden stake rotting from her chest as the blacked blood stained the front of her Victorian lace gown. “It’s only because I know the dangers Shadow presents that I’ll help you, my former torturers” her blue eyes blazed a fire long remembered from a time that slipped past as she spotted her rivals amongst the crowd. “In order for the vortex to have been opened”, she rose above the crowded room capturing everyone’s attention, “someone of some supernatural abilities must have moved the seals, the Lions, the globe and, God help us, the doorway” The ghostly apparitions stood still; only the scurrying of the minute spiders that had crawled into their caskets and died with them scattered amongst the rustles of their period clothing.
“We know what it means if we cannot send them back into their own time and space.” The judge knowingly looked around the room.
“Yes,” the psychic began, “they will break the rules of our polite dead society we have created. First with possession of those that walk topside with malevolence:” slowly she proceeded to float towards the dais to stand below the judge, “then they will start to manipulate the weak with a vengeance; dead or alive. As I see it,” she then turned to the judge, “we have two choices to start with; to close the gate so there would be no more entries and to gather those that are here and attempt to get them sequestered in a spot to hold them till we can send them back to the other-side. Keep in mind the longer the gate stays open the more there will be on this plane; and herding the Shadow and Others will be a continuous battle. I propose”, the Lady turned back to fan the growing crowd of misty apparitions, “that we close the gate, then meet again to determine what can be down with the existing problems as they occur.”
“Humph”, the judge nodded in reluctant acquiescence, his dislike for her clearly written on his face; “unless there are other ideas presented?” he turned to the crowded room “anyone? Then so be it!” his gavel sounded on the misty dais, “Lets get the Stone back in place, meet back here two o’clock am sharp! The hours are precious so please entities lets not dawdle!”
The chill on the third floor hallway slowly ebbed from the rooms as the ghosts fled to the position of the stone; the chill still palpable to any person within their path. Out side, they followed the trail of darkness, before them, a void of all light swirled and flapped about in the air. Maniacal laughter echoed from the void as though it echoed through a stone chamber entreating those in front of the open doorway a wavering ripple in their own ghostly apparitions.
The modern day building itself stood in quiet desolation. The tools of the local tradesmen left to lie; as though waiting to be picked up and start working again as though nothing had happened. But it did. And the workers were gone. To where no one knew. The old stonewall; which had been covered throughout the generations with succeedant walls, was possibly to ensure that no one breach the gate. That would never be known; for now it was an attempt to create a wine cellar for a local restaurateur. In the name of money, he ignored the carved warning:
When the marker set at the North end rolls
The Lyons leave their post
Te wall torn down
Opens the gates as the darkness calls
And demons swarm
Written with sagacity; perhaps from the Lady’s ancestor who priorly entreated to this new land before she, for they couldn’t have known the large round mile marker set at the North end of town was to have been rolled to safety for construction as had the stone lions which sat at the base of the bridge. All tucked safely inside a warehouse the roars of the lions were silenced by the stone edifice surrounding them: echoing beneath the silence where they sat as they heard the wall fall and Darkness escape.
For now the building took on misty appearance as the apparitions floated as close to the opening as they dared all wanting to watch as though it was a modern day automobile accident. The Lady in White fearlessly moved into the building to inspect what appeared to be candles in a circle; the sage added to the atmosphere with it’s white smoke as a young man diligently worked with herbs and verbal chants completing his circle’s cast.

October

October approaches. The doorway to the holidays as I like to think of it as. After the sluggishness of summer it feels good to breathe. People become a little bit nicer for the most part, and it turns just a little cooler; even if it is only in the evening. Remember I'm in the South. So here's a reflection of the seasons that began this blog but worthy of repeating:

Indiana sun
Tractors in the fields
Smell the rich loamy dirt
Soon the smell of dust
As the heat beats down
The corn waves As we drive by
Our hands out the windows
Creating rainbows
Ditch flowers growing wild
Ornamental dusty lanes
Lean into summer nights
Lit by fireflies
Stars all around
Wake up to fall
The smell of burnt carrots
Smells just like burning leaves
The frost on pumpkins
Like a sprinkle of sugar
Till the snow falls peaceful
God saying "shhhhh"
As the world is tucked in
To bed.

Is that what artist are supposed to do?

Inspired by Frank Gehry, sculptor in architect. Artist take risks. Architecture as sculpture, instinctual, not educated or traditional; how do we know that instinct isn't even more ancient in tradition the what is known? What am I doing here? What have I always known that even now seems to elude but shimmer before me as an unknown shadow? Find that small space where you can make a difference. The reason for art is that moment when it touches a soul. Saturation into inspiration. Chain link has become the chain mail for a building useful in it's interpretation along with its protective nature. Nurture. Why do I cry? It's the same as standing before that one piece, the one that touched my soul...Nagging. What is the first move? There you are with that canvas on your easel, and colors on your palette, where do you go from there? Anithitical? Juxtaposition? Where'd that come from? Is that the purpose of the artist? To change the world?

Rembrant's Sky

I walk beneath a Rembrant's sky
Timeless
The wind and I
Nary a sound as we both fly
Lost in the hues of his painted sky
Heaven sighed
In glorious delight
To be caught in a moments flight
Sometimes described as a reflection of light
A memory captured for generations sights

More Celebrations

I was fortunate to have the pleasure of a fabulous luncheon with several of my favorite friends of a different kind. Zak, Arnaud, Phil, Ettienne, and Arnaud's LaVonne. It was another celebration as we celebrated Arnaud's birthday and Etienne played any and every ploy to have us commit to a visit to Maine. Tempting.

Celebrations

Any time we friends get together we turn it into a celebration just through our energies. People feel the vibrations in the air; they then run away or stick close as it's revitalizing.
All of us got up early to go to the Jax Farmers Market, very few of us are early risers and one never sleeps. Good prices on great produce which was the same as each others. Found a couple of un knowns and asked the girl who was working there what it was she said:
"a vegetable" NO DUH!
Good spot for blueberry bushes and fig trees too. We went to another flea market, didn't find any fleas we wanted then went to lunch at Sticky Fingers before venturing into the new health food store Nature's Sun. Notice we had to do unhealthy before healthy. Smart girl who seated us told us we're trouble and seated us in the back. The service was good and it was nice to have that comradarie to talk, laugh and just be. It was great having Savannah there with us too; (thanks for the ride). Though it was disarming to have both her and her mother so chipper before the sun comes up. They usually complain about me! Jeez!
Ended up taking a 2 hour nap after I came home. Man that felt good. Thank you girls for another great time together. Have a beautiful weekend.

Food for thought

"Our higher power can only talk to us in a language we understand. Therefore most of us can be reached through the language of fear."
Spiritual Fitness pg 2.

"There can be no such thing as failure if you haven't formed a preconceived idea (assumption of how it'll turn out), of what success should look like. Failure is comparative" Same book, page 7-8

Well back to the drawing board.

Funny vignettes

A bar from a song..."you and I collide" metaphorically has become the summary of what this week has been as I have collided with myself in various forms.
The throb and/or ache in my left foot reminds me of feeling. Healing? I hope so. Strange vignettes 'collided' last night, made up of snippets through out the week. From men on the phone at work that sounded like the beaver character from the old Pooh cartoons with the whistling s's, a vase at the front desk at work contained what was obviously snips of shrubbery (Monty Python) and last night I caught on the Comedy Channel the comedian who does Jose Jalepeno on a Steeek, MJ, Terri and I saw him in Boston in 1998. I laughed just as hard as I did then, and I felt my friends beside me as we were then even though I was alone in my apartment.
Man a lot of time has passed between then and now and it seems like yesterday. Marriages, births and deaths have all occured in our close knit group and yesterday our 'mystery weekend' escape consisted of cooking school at the Blue Bamboo. It was GREAT. I wonder if that will become part of the future flow of funny vignettes, who know's maybe Paula's Dean's is next...

Mandala

This is a mandala. Any of various ritualistic geometric designs symbolic of the universe, used in Hinduism and Buddhism as an aid to meditation.

Can you smell the ocean? Can you feel the breeze? Does the water refresh you as your feet cool in the soft sifting sand?

I took SeaFoam (the latest window) into the gallery and she wasn't quite accepting the view until I told her as I see it I'm part of it, looking down at my feet as a wave washes into the beach. That is the beauty of that piece is it makes the person looking at it a part of it. To see SeaFoam go to August

Men in Trees

MJ just HAD to call me to see if I was watching this new tv show on Friday's. Hmmm I foresee a ticket to Alaska some how, probably one way. haha.
All in all, it's a cute show. Not sure whether it's as good as Northern Exposure but the scenery is great. I can imagine this is only going to help the tourism of Alaska get a whole lot better...yes MJ I hear you...that's just up my ally...tourism.

Das Shoe

Well it's definately broken, splintery like. Went to the ortho doc today. He gave me an ortho shoe (yeah no cast!) and told me to keep it on and raised as often as possible for 3 weeks. He told me it'll probably swell for up to a year, and if he did surgery for up to two. Fore warmed fore armed. Now I can shower again. Soon back in heels!

Winn Dixie

A funny bit of reality happened this morning at the store. I had my cart ready to go, was actually waiting for the manager to get done assisting a young lady to acknowledge my presence to purchase a roll of quarters. Mind you the young lady was very pretty in a natural down to earth manner and was getting 2 large bags of kitty litter. He kept smiling and asking her if she was sure he couldn't assist her.
"Sweet" I thought.
She let out a breath, picked up the bags and said
"no thank you" with a smile.
He then turned to me, smiled and walked away. The nice cashier helped me. And no, no one asked if I needed help out, bandaged foot or not.
I didn't need it, and that's the joy.

Lucky left foot

Ok Terry, you said it. Now I've joined it. Severely hurt my left foot. Will let you know more as I know.

**LEFT FOOT NOTE*** (pun intended)
It's officially broke. Not sure of the name of the bone, MJ knows it, too well. She's shared that, so much so she was the voice in my head. So 2 hours on a Friday night with a full moon to boot, (can we see the foot pandamodium going on here?!), in the local emergency room went surprisingly well. I'm on a splint until I see an ortho doc. Expertise aka the VOICE of experience recommends a walking cast. Get your pens out girls, I plan on drawing a cute spiked high heeled shoe on it.
As for how I did it, I'm using the excuse of kick boxing...lol

Life imitating art, or is it art imitating life?

Sometimes it seems as though I've been floating outside of reality. I'm sure I know why deep down but I don't know to see it for my own nose. I've been reading a lot, especially to escape reality, or even, (gads!) watching tv. That's something I don't really like. Except when it comes to grey's anatomy. MJ told me it's nice to watch someone else's drama I told her that's what the books and blogs have been for. There have been moments whispered that I have the 'perfect' life. Dare I put it out there? Dare I reveal that I miss having the drama of someone being involved in my life? Is that why I escape into those places to avoid my own? In the metaphor how life imitates art is my infatuation with windows really picking up my own slivered thrown away pieces, or me just gluing myself to a window to watch life because that is what I am; the thrown away slivers of color? If my opportunities are so open why do I not see the many doors open? How come I still feel so damned invisble? I find it easier to question spirituality and the life questions we all seem to face. There are times I feel like a child in the sense of wisdom as to not having any and being around those ancient trees that tell the world the wisdom in their breeze. Do I claim this 'artistic temperment' as a veil to keep from seeing reality? The Florida winter is almost over, it's time to come out from the hibernation. How come I'm fighting so hard to keep from waking up?!

Seattle Sights

About a year ago my brother sent me a ticket to go see him when he lived in Washington state. We took several day trips, one to Seattle, and to Mt. Ranier just to name a few. There some great photos that reminded me of my children especially my son Alex. He would love it out there. He's always loved Jack London's stories and I know he would just love it out there. There were a couple of things that had his name on them, the rest are just, I thought good photos.

Gypsy wind

Like the Bob Segar (sic?) song the gypsy wind blows through my soul. Vignettes of memories, words and places run through my mind as I cross through out the day. Small frustrations of fragments having to be fixed tomorrow due to holiday closing today was in all probability spirits way of telling me to just stop and relax. Let the flow go.
Change is almost tangible in the atmosphere, well it is at least constant. Though there are times I feel the ripples which I don't think amount to anything until it explodes ferociously, sometimes precociously, hinting at the change that is wrought.
Why am I so restless?

Where I'll be

A feeling
Of being
Not really
There
The hollowness
The emptiness
What is happening?
I don’t care
I’m not there
Off on a breeze
High in the air
Beyond the pain
He doesn’t belong there
Beyond what is
Is where I’ll be
Somewhere
Up in the air

Zak's Ride

*Sometimes when we know someone personally going through what we pray doesn't happen, we give more openly, freely and with love for it to affect their life profoundly. *


I am writing to ask you to sponsor my ride in the 2006 MS150 Bike Tour, to raise funds for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society (NMSS). This year, the 150 mile bike tour (Sept. 16 and 17) takes us round- trip from St. Augustine Airport to Daytona Beach.
I ride in the MS150 each year to support my sister Valerie and the research of the NMSS. Multiple sclerosis (MS) is a disease which causes my sister's immune system to attack her central nervous system. Valerie was diagnosed with MS two years ago, after months of medical testing and referrals to specialists. She should have been diagnosed with MS ten years ago, but many physicians still misdiagnose MS as fibro myalgia and depression without doing further testing.
In 2004, Valerie frequently lost her balance and fell -- continuing a pattern that started five or six years ago. Her legs sometimes just decided to collapse; her knees then banged into floors, or her head banged into doors, and she often ended up in the emergency room. She now walks with a cane, and can only walk short distances. Many days, the depression alone can be debilitating. Headaches, scrambled speech, and other neurological symptoms are common. Fortunately, fleeting moments of blindness and blurred vision have been rare, so Valerie can still drive and function independently.
In 2005, Valerie had to change medications due to the toll the first medication took on her liver. She usually feels "wiped out" the day after injecting her weekly medication. Valerie is fortunate, however. The medication she takes now has been effective in stopping the progression of MS, even though her condition has not significantly improved.
Most days, Valerie shares her laughter with others and give thanks for all that is good in her life. She volunteers at a women's residential treatment facility. She has an amazing amount of faith. As a result, when she and her children need something that she can no longer afford on her limited disability income, it somehow just manifests. I admire Valerie -- she is my teacher, my hero.
Research into the causes of MS and the best possible treatment continues. The NMSS provides valuable educational materials, wheel chair assistance, support groups, research funding, and other resources to assist people with MS and their families. However, the NMSS relies on OUR donations.
I love Valerie very much. I ride in the MS150 because I know that one day, through faith, funding, research, and action, we fill find a cure for MS. Please sponsor my ride in the 2006 MS150 Bike Tour. Although I had a major crash on 08/19/06, I am recuperating, and still plan to ride in mid-September. (A bee flew down my shirt while I was cycling, and stung me three times. I slammed on brakes, and flew over the handlebars onto the asphalt.)
Donating is easy. You can either: (a) mail me a check made payable to National Multiple Sclerosis Society; (b) donate via the internet by visiting www.nmss.org/fln, clicking on E-Pledge, and typing in my name as the participant; or (c) bring donations and something to eat or drink to my annual Sharing Party on September 9 (7:00 PM - until). Please be generous! I look forward to hearing from you.
Thank you!
Zac

Happy September

Ahh, the month of Fall. The doorway to the holidays slowly creeks open. The colors of the world change (except in the South, here you breathe a little easier), and pretty sparkly things start lining the store shelves. Yes I've seen Christmas come out of hiding already.

This year I'm looking forward to the beauty of the holidays in my adorable apartment. I've already brought out the little glass tea light holders in the shape of a little bag with a carved face on them. Terry gave me a couple of light up pumpkins, and I'm sure somewhere I have autumn leaves tucked away.

Tomorrow I give my first brunch party for 4 dear friends of mine: Zak, Arnaud, Phil, and Emory. I am very blessed to have them in my life and so want to have a perfect party for them. Frankly I'm nervous. I know I don't need to be, but it's there. I've confidence in the main course, salad and dessert, wines and music. I don't normally 'set' a table, haven't in YEARS. Maybe it's time to start. I've always wanted to entertain and now that I have the great apartment and nice furniture (thank you for your help in that MJ), I can start.