The Greatest Temptation

Love is the greatest form of goodness there is. It is potent and strong and pliable and the truest sign of a noble spirit I know of.

Some people go out to destroy evil, without realizing that any attempt to destroy something only creates more destruction in this world. I think the greatest temptation of all is the feeling that one is called to destroy what is hateful and hurtful and horrible in this world.

How much better off we all would be, if we turned all that hate around and re-shaped it into truly loving gestures that reached out with open arms, inviting the hurt and angry and lost, to walk into caring and love and family.

Indulgences

I revealed the amount of money I live on to someone today and suddenly felt ashamed. I have not felt that way since I was a little girl living in a wealthy upper class neighborhood and wearing shoes that had holes hidden in the soles. We were the poor rich, whatever that means. To us it meant my mother told us we were wealthy and that we only lacked money temporarily and that along with wealth came obligations. One of those was to make do with what you have. My parents made do amazingly well and we children? Children only know what they live and learn, so we were fine too.

I have always felt I can do whatever I truly desire to do and while that is not exactly true, it really is true in most cases. There are many ways to do everything and it is only necessary to search for the ones that fit into a way that works for me. It is also necessary to truly want something badly enough to be willing to do whatever it takes. Suffering is not much of a burden if the journey is sweet.

My tax people laugh at my church mouse standards. I am the novelty among their clients, the one who is more than content to live on what most of their clients pay in taxes. I am not proud of this fact. If I could sell my book, or find another way to make money that did not interfere with the really important things in my life, I would gladly live with more.

I do not have a lot of money, but I have everything I need. I am even able to indulge myself by using a small portion of it every month for something very dear to my heart. That is the secret to being satisfied with less - being blessed by using what I have.

The Best I Can Do

There is a sort of self satisfied, above it all feeling that some people seem to carry around with them that says this would never happen to me, not the way I live. It implies that if I only lived better, my life would be as good as theirs. The truth is they probably don't live any better than I do. Their standards are just different.

Some of us are born with such a great need to belong that we can, and do, endure terrible things. It can run the range from something as simple as working ourselves to death so our kids can have fancy clothes and belong to all the right clubs, to even denying who we are and what we are born to be. Others are born with a need to be true to ourselves and the truth as we see it.

Lines are difficult to discern here since they often depend on who we are and whether, or not, it is me I am talking about, or you. Minds tend to justify whatever truth seems most powerful at the time and the closer to home it is, the harder it is to be objective.

I try not to judge people. In fact, I tend to admire people who color outside the lines and walk a little bolder than most of us would dare, but I'm no fool. I know they have paid a price, do pay a price for their freedom and I try to do what I can to support them.

I do not like conflict. I really do not like it! I go to such lengths to avoid it that when I finally boil over, I am too angry. That is counter productive too, so I have learned to step up, quaking in my boots, and take a stand as early as I possibly can.

It ain’t easy. Of course if it’s approval I need, I might as well give up, because somebody’s always righteously unhappy about something. Right now I’m just sitting on the side lines watching my friends stand up for what they believe and cheering them on.

It’s the best I can do.

Perverse Sense Of Humor

The universe with a perverse sense of humor listened to my last thot and gave me the opportunity to experience one more thing so that I would know for myself what it is like. Needless to say, it was something I would have been happy to forego, but that wasn’t one of the options.

I wasn’t feeling good anyway so at first I didn’t even notice the extra little aches, but gradually they made themselves loud and clear. It reminded me of when I used to play Bridge years ago and after eating had to lie down and let my stomach settle before we went into battle. I tried every position I know to ease the feeling that my stomach was filling up with gas and going to explode any second. I thought it was the worst.

Then phase two appeared and it felt like I was in hard labor, only I knew there was no way I was giving birth. It’s just a physical impossibility for me. I thought this was even worse.

But nausea reared its ugly head and for the next ten hours I lived in a haze of pain. I would have driven myself to the hospital, but I have no idea where it is in Asheville and pride of independence would not allow me to wake up the guys upstairs. I called my doctor and she wanted me to come in. How I was going to get there was beyond me, but this time the universe smiled on me and I made a fairly uneventful drive to Asheville.

Kidney stones! Who would think! And several other infections which are sort of par for the course for me right now when I can catch anything from five hundred feet. Barbie went and got my medicine, which blessedly included vicodin. I took one and now I can say with first hand knowledge, it works.

I am about to make some toast. If it goes down, we are on the mend.

Communication

It is hard to understand someone else's feelings if I haven't been there myself.

I can empathize. I can sympathize. I can imagine and feel for and do all sorts of other things, but I don't really know the experience unless I have gone through it myself. Even then, I only know the way I reacted to it, the way my body and soul understood and suffered through it, which may be completely different from yours.

We are all different. We come from different places, have different sensitivities, different support systems. We may all be in this together, but we are still awfully alone and isolated.

This pebble may rock your boat when it falls into the deep water, but we aren’t Borgs. You still don’t know why and where I fell and how hard I hit the water, or how much it hurt, or where I landed -- unless I tell you.

Communication is a skill that needs to be honed and refined and like anything else, practice makes perfect.

The Duet

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RI-l0tK8Ok0

The above is a link to a couple at Mayo Clinic playing a duet. I cannot imagine anyone not loving it. When I was younger, much, much, younger, I imagined myself connected to someone in this way for all my life. I made a couple of mistakes. The first and biggest was marrying someone who did not play any musical instrument at all, let alone piano. Oh well, live and learn. It wasn't the only mistake I 've ever made.

I love music, but so often the music I love I cannot listen to. Music speaks to me the way old photos, or diaries speak to other people. It draws my feelings in bas relief and brings them to the surface like a time machine in perfect working order. Way too poignant sometimes.

By the time I can play it again, I know that I have truly moved on to a different way of thinking and being, so music is also the gauge by which I measure my growth. Those tunes I enjoy the most then speak to me of the breadth and depth of a life lived, if a bit dramatically, at least also reasonably fully.

I cannot imagine life without music and while it is hard for me to play for others, it is impossible not to play for myself. If I had one piece of advice for younger folks, it would be learn to love yourself and what you do, because of all the people you will love and be with, you are the one you will spend the most time with. Besides, you will know your own flaws better than anyone else, so if you can love yourself, you can probably love anyone to some extent.

But this couple learned that life can be a great duet, so go listen to them now! It's short, slightly more than a minute and life is too short not to watch it and enjoy!

By any other name, Father

You call and they come.

You ask and they perform.

They call and you come.

They ask and you give.

Is there a better teacher than this?

My Afternoon Thots

Occasionally there is a time and a place for an extra thot, or two. Today seems like one of those days. Today I am barely able to move anything but my mind without too much pain, but on the whole that is better than having the mind, or heart in pain. Believe me, I know.
Today is simple enough. It is another segment in the continuing episodes of Lawn Mowing! That should come with a drum roll and trumpets, use your imagination.

I came up here with a environmentally sound manual (is that the right word?) lawn mower, one you push and it cuts the grass. If it only did that, everything would be fine, but it only cuts certain kinds of grass. If the grass is too tall, or too coarse, it only cuts some of it and then only if I go over it three or four times. The lawn mower is light, but it is like cutting the yard several times in one day each time I use it.

I decided to use my son's power mower. He was concerned that I would not be able to start it. No problem there, push in that funny button three times, pull the rip cord and Voila! It starts better than most lawn mowers I've had to start. The problem is its size. I don't remember what the normal lawn mower engine is, but this one is 5.5 which is enough power to drag me around the yard behind it. It is too heavy not to use that lever that makes it go. I can barely get it up and down the little inclines and over the potholes without some kind of help, but oh the help I get. One touch of that forward lever and off we go, helter skelter across the yard, over any poor shrub not big enough to have woody stems and bouncing across the potholes that grab at my ankles and toes.

I finally worked out a delicate system of touch and quickly letting go, using just enough power to help me negotiate the parts I couldn't push it over and I wore leather gloves today because last time my hands were so badly bruised I could barely move them. Still the rest of me aches and hurts in unbelievable ways. It might be time to do some negotiating with the guys upstairs. I babysit for free all the time (which I already do) and they mow my yard once a week. It is a small yard and I hate having to rely on someone else to do something I like done a certain way, but this may be one of those times it is necessary.

Thoroughbreds

You spill over into the universe and I am captured by your ingenuousness. You are so deeply innocent and guileless that you do not even know it is you I am writing about.

I look into the sweetness of your smile, the sparkle in your eyes and my world becomes so much brighter. I listen to the simplicity of your words, their honesty and their openness and my heart aches with the wonder of you.

I see two of you, one fresh, the other aged to perfection, one rare species, thoroughbreds who stand out above all others, solid and good to the bone.

No matter how lost I may sometimes feel, I know you are here, a light in the dark, the markers along the way, the exquisite pain of a heart overflowing with love.

Yes, I keep you on a pedestal, safe and untouchable, a precious part of my life that helps me remember who I am and why I am here because you are love and I am you.

Cloud Down!

Cloud down!

A common enough thought in the Smokey Mountains where clouds fall down upon the earth in mutinous multitudes. Forsaking the trade winds and the gulf winds and everything else to cling close to the earth's sweet breasts.

Today this damp white beast, that lies sodden over trees, green with mold, and land, ripe with vines, wraps itself around me like some kindred spirit so I won’t feel so alone.

Another creature transported to a strange and foreign land, out of time, out of place, out of sync in a world that seems to cater to the cadence and conformity of others so much more easily.

Today the truth is that I wish I could crawl inside your head and look at me from the inside out, to know what it is like to fall into a groove and slide through the world like a marble slick and polished and ready to roll.

But I am a cloud down. And I continue to rise at will and sleep at last, to play music that helps me slide from time to time, and write thoughts that are all my own in a world filled with those to whom different is often anathema.

Angell down!

Even My Imagination Can't Do Much Better

Living in the moment is not the same thing as denial. The next moment will come. Of course who knows what it will bring and since there isn't much I can do to alter it in this moment there is no reason to agonize over it. Sometimes, though, this is easier said than done.

For these moments there are sweeter things that pop up here and there. Just nice little respites that remind me how truly good the world can be and how all moments are really only the icing on the cake, or perhaps the ribbon on the flowers. What is behind them, or underneath them is just as good and sweet and maybe even more substantial and better.

My journey gets better and better. Sometimes I feel like I have it all and the all that I have is so very real that even my imagination can't do much better. And that... is saying a lot!

Nothing To Say

Sometimes there is nothing I want to say and as rare as that seems, this is one of those days.

More Enthusiasm Than Proficiency

Yesterday's My Thots ended with this: I think I’ve crossed just about every barrier now. In the words of a my triumphant son when he dove into the deep end of the pool at three, “Let’s see what I’ve learned!”

What I didn't write was that right after saying this he took off his water wings, threw himself into the water and promptly had to be fished out! Please understand that I, like him then, do most of the things I do with more enthusiasm than proficiency. I'm just not so afraid of failing now and I count on the understanding and kindness of those around me.

I am lucky. I may not be great at all the things I want to try in this life, but I have been given a better than even chance at success. I just watched a movie about autistic twins who turned out to be extraordinary at the things they tried, which is nice, but kind of annoys me. Most kids who have some problem in school are not this lucky. They do not automatically find out they are chess whiz es, or guitar savants, or the fastest runner in the school. Sometimes it takes years and years to discover their niche in life.

Very very gifted people manage to find their way, but the average child who learns outside the grid, generally suffers through an awful lot of harassment from both the other students and the teachers. Many are labeled as unruly, or irresponsible, or just plain recalcitrant, when the problem is something completely different. I know. I have personally experienced some of it with first my brother and then my daughter and to a smaller extent, one of my sons. These kids were punished again and again because they couldn't learn what was put before them until someone discovered they simply learned a different way.

For these kids to see movies where everyone appears to easily excel goes beyond motivation. It lends itself to frustration and just plain giving up. I don't think my daughter will mind when I use her as an example. She knew something was wrong right away. She used to cry and ask why the letters never turned into words. I tried everything I knew and then went to everyone I could think of looking for answers. Some said it was because her life had been so crazy before we adopted her. Others said, she had a learning disability, which is awfully vague. Everyone wanted to label her, but nothing really worked until one teacher quit looking at broad spectrum's and simply did what worked best for my daughter in her class. That was the starting point for us and it looks like we still don't know what the end point will be. My daughter is still learning, still progressing and now has a good job that even has benefits! She can do whatever she needs to do, just differently than most other people. She is very creative at finding what works and she gave me many of the tools I needed to help other children who came after her.

Here's to a world that learns to love us for who we really are.

Let's See What I've Learned

Once I was afraid to show anything I did to anyone, but the universe is kind to me. It has sent me all sorts of people to bolster my confidence. These people are good at what they do, some are even professionals, so when they allow me to show them what I can do, I am both terrified and honored.

There was a time when a concert meant throwing up just before going on stage. There were years when no one saw anything I wrote at all. I was so paralyzed by lack of confidence that my art teacher despaired of me ever picking a subject and getting started. All of my parts in plays were always by default, I never auditioned. I was too afraid. One reason I play a musical instrument is because it means no one asks me to sing, which I can't do outside of my closest family. We are talking about seriously disabling shyness here!

I may have been born with part of it, but the rest is simply a well learned lesson while growing up. My grandmother and mother were accomplished musicians, much lauded mothers and small beautiful women. My father was the consummate teacher and a professional student. All my life, any one of them was right there for me, ready to help and tell me, in great detail, every tiny thing I did wrong in the hopes that it would help me overcome my flaws and allow me to excel. I know my flaws inside and out.

Then I met the beautiful people who have become my most influential teachers, each one taking me a step farther away from the trembling little apologizer I had become. The first was the woman I taught pre-school with, who referred to me as her angel and flooded me with positive thoughts for years and years. Another was a great musician who listened to me play without offering me any advice at all unless I asked for it and when I asked, truly helped, leaving me feeling better for having done so. Then there is the writer I admire more than anyone in the world, who still reads my work. His encouragement spurs me forever onward.

Yesterday I made a video of my backyard, which sounds silly, but it is such a beautiful part of my life here. I really just got lucky. The birds cooperated by singing and the rain splashed musically. I accidentally got myself in it and was so surprised to see me, I smiled! All a bunch of accidents that I thought ended up being kind of nice, so I sent it out to family and friends, even a friend who makes videos. One more step for me, he responded, “Very nice!”

I think I’ve crossed just about every barrier now. In the words of a my triumphant son when he dove into the deep end of the pool at three, “Let’s see what I’ve learned!”

Learning Experiences

The great thing about life is that it is a learning experience right down to the last breath, if I allow it to be.

It is so easy to think that there is a saturation point, a place where I've done all I can. It is even easier to think that this is the way it is done, no need to make any changes.

Growing up, I sought perfection. We joked that it wasn't necessary -- all the time. I knew the real joke was that it was absolutely necessary. I had to become as perfect as possible. I had to look perfect, which becomes harder and harder as life truly progresses. I had to perform perfectly, until it became too hard to reach for that perfection and I quit. I had to respond perfectly to every situation no matter how hard. Pretty soon perfection surrounded me like a suit of ill fitting armor, creaking and jangling, separating me from myself and everyone else. Life was about the attainment of perfection, which of course is always just a step away.

It is so much easier to write about, talk about and create perfect scenarios with great crescendos and awesome climaxes, than it is to live them. Living them means allowing people to look at the woman beneath the armor, believing that she is worth looking at, and knowing that she will never be perfect. My mother gave me a perfectly perfect role model, who never strayed in any way from what was expected and perfect. She did the very best she knew how.

We all do the best we know how. No one wants to be a failure, but life is not supposed to only be about the winners, the top dogs, the people who are god like and perfect. Not everyone writes a best selling novel, or lives the life of a saint, but heroes are found in some of the most unlikely places. This is something I know is true. I may never be one, but I still recognize them when I see them!

Heroes are real people, with real feelings, doing real things. They feed the hungry, help the sick, provide what people really need. Mother Teresa did not go to a stylish church on Sunday morning looking for her people. She went to where the people were, the ones who needed what she did the best.

The heroes I know never set out to be heroes, don't even think of themselves as heroes. They just found themselves, took off their armor and walked out into the world vulnerable. Then they started taking care of the people around them.

They are not just my heroes. Now, they are my role models.

Right In Front Of Us

I am looking at a picture of a very beautiful person. He is holding a dog and the two of them have the most extraordinary blue eyes. Anyone who even glances at this picture is bound to smile. It is just one of those feel good photos that make people look twice.

In the next moment, some people will immediately find fault, even if they have to make up a story about what is probably not right. I'm not sure why this happens, but I think it is so they can justify their own less than stellar outlook.

Others will justify his beauty by saying he is very handsome and young and healthy looking. Why wouldn't he be beautiful?

But the truth is that his beauty comes from deep within. He works horrendously long hours at a back breaking job for minimum wage, is separated from those he loves most in the world for long periods of time, has had some pretty bad luck here and there. Most of us would not be able to hold up very long living his life, let alone exude the quiet confidence and competence he does.

He not only holds up, he does it with style and joy. Everything he does is to the best of his ability no matter what else is going on. He's not afraid to speak up when he feels it is necessary and he's not afraid to listen to well meaning advice. He's still pretty idealistic, but without being unrealistic. He'll do okay in this world. In fact, I'd be willing to bet he'll do more than okay.

I might just hang this picture up so I remember these things. Not all great teachers have to be world famous. Some of them are right here in front of us.

No Promises

What if the Grail is a wholly euphemistic search for an enlightening, an opening of heart and mind and eyes that allow the elusive to become visible?

What if the dragon is really a heart, flying into the light, demanding traditional, hard and fast satisfaction; flaming in the heat of passion, searing when thwarted or enraged, tender and quivering with its feelings all over?

The Grail becomes the lance that severs the dragon from its beloved. Not because the dragon is a myth, or some sort of evil creature, but because it is simply more ephemeral than we would like to believe.

The dragon shrivels up and dies from blindness if it cannot comprehend the complexities of its lover’s vision. Starved by the immense spaces between it and what feeds its soul, it wanders lonely through the world until finally fading away in a cave created out of the darkness it pulls around itself in fear.

Love is still the ultimate quest, but whether it is the hero’s, or the fool’s, is not so simple as the morality tales of the past. This life holds no promises that we will live happily ever after, or that the Grail, when found, can be comprehended. It does not say that all the dragons will die, or be saved, or tamed, or do anything at all.

The real tales are still told one story at a time and whether we ride the white horse, or fly upon fire breathing wings depends solely upon us.

Don't Bat An Eye

I recall an episode of Designing Women when Julia Sugarbaker was defending her slightly-off-the-mark brother to someone. She said something like, "We Southern families all have crazy people in them. We just don't hide them in the attic like you Northerners. We celebrate them. We bring 'em right out here on the veranda for everyone to enjoy."

The above was sent to me by a friend and it made me think.

Coming from a good Northern family, which is descended from a supposedly even better Southern family, we have more than our share of enjoyable relatives. We absolutely do not hide them in the attic, nor do we drag them down to the veranda. In our family we like to pretend they are perfectly normal and you are the one with a social acuity problem.

When my brother, who always asked my children to eat their cookies at the picnic table in order to keep their crumbs off his Aubusson rug, calmly remarked to the large dog gnawing on his antique tea table, "Hannah, dear, please stop chewing on the table." No one batted an eye. When my sister drove up in her large black car after a six hour drive and said, "I've been seeing double for weeks now. It's driving me crazy." No one batted an eye. My grandmother once saw a black cat cross in front of her. She immediately turned and drove through a construction site, barely escaping a brick wall that tumbled down a fraction of a second after she passed it. When asked if she was superstitious, she quickly replied, "Absolutely not, but if I hadn't turned when I did, that wall might have hit us." No one batted an eye.

We take things as they come in our family. My father had a full scholarship to Catholic Seminary. He was an atheist when I knew him. There must have been a transition period in there somewhere, but we didn't talk about those things in our family. My Aunt Lu was the eldest of eight children. She married her husband in 1900, when she was sixteen, the year my grandmother, her youngest sister, was born. One morning she asked her husband when he was going to order them a baby from Sears Roebuck. My Aunt Chloe named her son Bill. He named his son Bill, who also did the same and on it went. When we talked about them we always referred to them as Big Bill, Little Bill, Middle Bill and Baby Bill, who I am sure eventually grew up. How they ever spoke among themselves is beyond me. We eventually just lost track of them all, or maybe it just became too complicated to talk about them.

One of my brothers had a penchant for sleeping in the middle of sunny driveways when he was a child, Thank goodness he developed allergies to the sun as a teenager. My father went out in the backyard one evening and a neighbor thanked him for letting my brother teach her son to play the clarinet. Dad simply nodded and smiled. As far as we know, my brother never played a clarinet in his life, but the other kid went to state contests and got a blue ribbon.

I could go on forever. We have even more interesting people in our family, but they tend to be more controversial. In our family, those things you see out of the corner of your eye, are not there. Neither are they in the attic, nor out on the veranda. Don't bat an eye and no one will notice.

I'll Tell You A Secret

It is kind of funny that one of the hardest things I have to do is not get too mushy and sentimental. I have it on good authority, from close friends, who don't tell me of course, but tell my sister, that sometimes I am just so sappy, they wonder if I'm in love.

Of course I'm in love! When have you ever known me not to be in love? It is just who I am.

I cannot imagine living in a world where I don't have someone to be madly in love with! It would be so dark and dreary, so sad and passionless, I doubt that I would survive for very long before the dark overwhelmed me and I just crawled into a dark place and withered!

I try to be present when I do things, but I'll tell you a secret. Often times I am thinking of my love as I wash the dishes, or make the bed, or sit on my swing in the sun. I am definitely thinking of my love when I write. He shows up in character after character, all of his many faces and personalities flowing through me into a story written with imagination and wonder and love.

The beauty, for me at least, is that I find people lovable. Once I get past their tough world exterior, most of them are just sweet children in grown-up bodies doing the best they can in the moment. You've gotta love that. Most of the people I meet, smile and are polite and are not trying to make waves at all. How can anyone not want to just gather them up and hold them close, whisper in their ear that you'll do your best to keep them safe and content, and maybe even happy?

And, some of them even make me laugh...I love them best of all.

Meeting Me

Solitude is a carpenter whose blueprints come from within.

Building doorways to hell, or opening pathways to enlightenment, solitude offers us many alternatives before these final decisions materialize as finality.

Minds take on a life of their own, given enough time. They imagine and play back memories and thoughts and perceptions until they begin to blend together and stop being separate entities. Once they become one vast bin of knowledge, solidifying as either, other or me, the soul steps in and takes over.

Soul, or ego, heart, or whatever it is you want to call the essential you emerges like a butterfly from a cocoon.

You look into the mirror of being and see yourself scraped down to the bare bones. No more false faces, no more designer philosophies, or glittering approvals from others to vindicate your oneness. You are on your own. It is just you and you.

Of course there is still God for the faithful, but I believe that any loving God would hesitate to interfere in such a momentous occasion and would simply hold up a mirror for you to gaze into.
Meeting yourself is probably a bigger occasion than your birth, because it doesn't occur until you are an aware and conscious being.

Sometimes I get glimpses of me standing here, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that final step yet.

Rushing

I have what I think is a family of doves that come to eat out of my bird feeder. It is a simple thing over in the corner of my yard near some windows so I can watch the birds from inside and I enjoy it very much. I get all sorts of birds from woodpeckers in the winter to hummingbirds and tufted titmice, to all sorts of finches, chickadees, cardinals, blue jays, just everything.

I especially enjoy the doves, though. Two are obviously older ones and two are slightly smaller. It is one of the smaller ones that likes to flutter in front of my big living room windows in that upright position that doves do so beautifully. Often it is when I have not remembered to put the food out there on time, so it seems like he is trying to remind me to feed them.

Yesterday I watched him fluttering before me, looking for all the world like some sort of greeting card, or a bird in a children's movie when I remembered I hadn't fed them yet. Without thinking, I grabbed up my scoop of food and rushed out the door. I will never regret anything more. In my rush to go feed them, I startled him and he flew into my window!

I heard him hit. I used to have a big picture window over my pool that ducks flew into during the winter months. That thundering sound reverberating off the glass is one unique to creatures flying into glass with stunning speed and strength, often ending up in their deaths.

Yesterday I stopped when I heard it and found myself in a cascade of small gray and white feathers fluttering down all around me. A strangely surreal experience of raining feathers coupled with the knowledge that this beautiful bird was above me shedding them all over me in this unnatural way. I was in tears.

I knew I had killed him by rushing out and startling him while he was being so lovely and giving me so much joy. I just prayed that he would not die, but I think he did. There are only three doves out there now and none of them is fluttering in front of my window looking at me.

Nothing good ever comes from rushing.

The Consummate Artist

Every truth, every reality has a core, a center that is the essence of what it is, a small basic part that speaks to everyone in some small way.

Imagine loving apples. All your life you have loved apples. You know that lots of people love apples for one reason, or another. Most people regard them as something to simply eat, a way to fill their stomachs with a palatable substance at one time or another.

You eat apple after apple until you discover that at the core of the apple is a seed that you can use to grow more apples and tap into this thing you have. This thought puts you ahead of most of your neighbors right away. Next, you plant the seeds and grow the apples and discover that some people love apples a little more than others. You begin to experiment and discover so much more.

Some just like the way it looks, but even that is open to diversification. They want red, or green, or yellow apples. Others like a specific shape. They want plump round apples that they can touch and look at, or fat juicy ones they can bite into and feel with both their hands and their tongues. Some want small skinny ones so they can make toys and dolls reminiscent of other times. You begin to provide these things and you become an entrepreneur.

After a while a realization dawns that there is a group who really want to see what you can do with these apples. They will pay to watch you smash them into apple juice, or beat them into applesauce, or toast them over a fire with a little sugar and spice, so you open a whole new set of avenues.

Then there are those who want to talk about them, how to grow them, how to cook them, what the best ways to prepare them are, so you walk around conversing with these people who come to buy your apples, all the while displaying them in all the myriad ways you have learned.

There will be people who only want to collect great barns filled with apples and people who have no interest in anything other than cooking them and even some who seem to need the whole experience. They want to feel like they are part of the process. You nurture them, talk to them, share little bits and pieces of yourself now and then and after a while, you realize you have created the ultimate empire.

You have a tiny kingdom based on a single reality whose base has become so broad and comprehensive that it is now a way of life. You have orchestrated a symphony based on the apple. It is so fantastic that thousands of people now flock to your doorstep every day and leave satisfied, no matter what their interest in the apple is.

You have become the consummate artist, reaching out and touching people in a million little ways with nuances so finite and subtle almost no one realizes how good you really are. You are an artist in the finest sense, a working, living example of art in the round, a dream that has become a waking reality.

They'll Survive

The beauty of being a mother and grandmother is knowing I am totally accepted and loved for exactly who I am by the most important people in my life. Not always understood, but loved! I am a pretty easy person to like. Most people seem to like me, but I think I am harder to love.

For one thing I have never been a let's bake cookies and watch chick flicks type of person.

I have taken my kids on vacations where I banned all external connections to the world, where we had to run down mountains in electrical storms, and the deer and the antelope crossing our path were the only living creatures we saw for hours on end. Once I took away their television and gave them a box that they used to put on their on entertainment for several months. Libraries were part of their lives from the time they could only chew on the books until they were old enough to drive themselves there.

On the other hand, they grew up dissecting frogs on the back porch, growing crystals in the basement and being part of a huge Community Players Theatre Family. Acting, singing and playing a musical instrument is as natural for them as it was terrifying for me when I was a child. I truly wanted them to have double my choices and chances and none of my fears. I wanted them to have it all.

Of course I discovered I couldn't give it all to them, but I learned so much trying. My children allowed me to face and conquer many of my fears, and there were lots of them.

Now they are all good, productive, compassionate people and I am so proud of them. If I had to give young parents advice? I'd say, love your children, really love them! Listen to them. Spend time with them. Play with them. Learn from them, but never be afraid to set limits and say no. If everything is done with love, they'll survive -- and maybe even thrive.

Compassion

Sometimes we grow up in a culture with mixed messages, most of them pretty convincing. Eventually it becomes necessary to sort them out, make some sense out of it all.

What a conundrum that can be! The people we are supposed to trust the most, the ones we love unconditionally, are held up to the light and it looks like a stained glass window whose symbolism appears to be obvious to everyone but us. The inner turmoil can be unbelievable, because it usually only shows up in times of crisis when everything is already chaotic and crazy.

In walks a perfect stranger, a man you might not think of turning to for an opinion. He is simply who he is. Hold him up to the light and nothing changes. Listen to the wind blowing through his cracks and nothing changes. Watch the rain drum against his heart and nothing changes. Turn on yourself and have a small tantrum, and nothing changes. What a gift this person is!

Sanity personified. Goodness exemplified. Compassion at its best. Open and honest. Simple and good and all the other adjectives that come to mind when looking into the light and seeing that the backlit person has a face and a name, a heart and all the other things we all look for.

More importantly, he is everything I am looking for and he calls me friend. There is no higher accolade than this.

A Real Reach

I have lived long enough so that almost everything I do has been criticized by someone for some reason. Being a quick learner and a bit too sensitive, I have been way too fast to drop those things from my repertoire. Now I am going around, re-collecting them, and reinserting them at the appropriate places.

It is not easy, but if I don't do it soon, I will be as blank and bland as a paper doll cut out of that old newsprint our art teachers handed out in elementary school. I personally have always preferred crusty old people, who have definite opinions and even gnarly personalities, as long as their hearts are good. If I had to choose between one of them and Polly Perfect, guess who'd win?

I am discovering that as long as there is a twinkle in my eye, people will put up with an awful lot from me! Twinkling should not be under estimated, it is a very valuable commodity. Those big eyes with long blue eyelashes I drew on all my people in first grade were just harbingers of the really important things in life. I look for them in the faces I see now. I also look for the big smiles and open arms with hands and fingers wide open.

Teaching taught me that you can have a productive and lively class filled with leaders if you make sure there are many choices available and all of them are acceptable. Thirty people in sync is good in a Broadway musical, but once they step off stage it becomes a little spooky to me. Now, thirty people, all doing something different, yet each one contributing something to the whole? That's awesome! Complicated. A real reach for some of us, but still awesome.

That is what I am reaching for.

What's It All About?

Long day here as you could see if you saw my refrigerator. I took all of Lennon's letters and made my own crossword puzzle. Hotai and the Great Turtle are just hold overs from Lennon playing here before he went home and Gramma began playing.

Nothing planned happened today, which says a lot for not living in the future and looking forward to things, something I knew even as a young child. Expectations are just let downs waiting to happen. Had I been inflexible, today would have been hard, but I am back to normal, so everything is fine.

My interview did not happen. The interviewer was called out of town unexpectedly and had to leave immediately. They sent a helicopter to fetch him far away and I will see him in a few months. Who and why is a mystery as always, but I do know that sometimes he works for NATO and The United Nations and always he works for peace in peaceful, loving ways.

Here I was, crème brûlée in the fridge, dinner started in various and sundry ways and no one here to eat it, so tomorrow my son's family will have a wonderful dinner and I am already enjoying the crème brûlée.

It does make me think, though. I know so many people doing really good deeds right now that it makes me feel like a drop out, like I am doing nothing, but I know that is not true. I have done a few good things in the past and right now I am helping a new human being get the best possible start in a long and what I am sure will be a good and productive life. That really is no small thing and it would be false humility for me to pretend otherwise.

So, here's to those who help each other, that's really what it's all about!

Dwelling in the present moment....

I am reminded that living anywhere except in this moment is a fool's errand. Back to basics!

Breathing in I calm my body
Breathing out I smile
Dwelling in the present moment
I know this is a wonderful moment!

by Thich Nhat Hanh

These four lines have, at times, been all that kept me in this world. They are tried and true. A simple mantra that kept my mind busy when the world was in chaos, a meditation that brings me comfort when the world is painful, a simple bit of wisdom that maybe I would have tattooed on my eyelids if only I could read that up close!

I tend to forget them when my world flows by peacefully, which is too bad, because they are truly words for all seasons, but they come back. They always come back.

New Experiences

I woke up very depressed this morning. That's the first time this has happened in almost a year and I am not used to it anymore. Part of it can be blamed on bad dreams, old dreams, difficult dreams, but part of it is in the now.

Sometimes I am too willing to share things that probably should not be shared. I am also feeling a little bit house bound and I am not working on any big writing project, so there is nothing to fall back on in this moment. In short, I guess all kinds of things contributed to my funky feelings. I am thinking that I need to get more involved, but then there is Lennon and I need to be available for him. That is one of the main reasons I am out here.

The day improved, though. I was able to go over some things in my book with someone who is reading it and get some pretty good advice and I got a phone call this evening that is kind of exciting. Wednesday evening I am having a man over for dinner. Not what you think at all. I am cooking, which I haven't done much of in a long time. I'm even making creme brulee! But this is no romantic tryst. He wants to come over and record me talking about my family and my life!

It is one of the things he does and if we don't do it on Wednesday it will be several months before he is back here again. He spends most of his life off in different parts of the war torn world doing all sorts of fascinating things and I will enjoy talking to him as much as he will allow. I want to hear his story! So I have something to really look forward to.

I love it when life sends me new experiences.

Mermaids And Dragons And Unicorns!

Mermaids and dragons and unicorns, oh my! Who believes in mythical creatures anymore? What possible reason could I still have for wanting to see Pegasus flying through that silver lined cloud I remember when I was five years old? How could The Great Turtle, the creature who came to me in dreams so many times in my forties and carried me away on his back, really exist?

And if they do exist what kind of creatures are they? Do they have magical powers that can reach from their world into mine, changing anything significantly? Why are they so elusive? Why do I care?

I guess I'll start with the last question and go backwards. I care because they are. That is just a simple truth.

They are elusive because they live on both sides of the veil. Like thoughts they can make real changes, but we can't hold them in our hand, or build things from their bones, or carve them up into little pieces and bottle them for medicinal reasons, no matter how hard we try.

Their magic is so strong and so real that we don't even see it coming. It blows along the edges of our lives re-shaping and blurring. It filters through the center of our hearts clearing out darkness and making room for the light. It washes over our image allowing others to see the beauty that is beyond skin deep, if they only look.

What kind of creatures are they? You will have to look and see for yourself. Most people can't do it, but, still, it is a simple process. Sit very still and allow your breath to empty all your preconceived parts into the lap of that great listener in the Silence. Open your eyes and let them linger over the ones who pass in front of you, then ride your breath into the light and allow yourself to see the truth.

In the beginning you may only see a man, or a woman, or perhaps even a child, but eventually their edges will blur a bit and the light in their eyes will glow and their real shape will begin to emerge. Beware of thoughts! Thoughts fly like darts in a magical rain forest, numbing us to what is right in front of us, changing things until they look like the patterns we have become accustomed to, forcing reality to morph into the shape the world taught us to see. If you can dodge the thoughts, you will see!

What you see will take your breath away. Embrace it. Remember it. Once it is remembered, it gets easier and easier to love those people you thought were ogres and trolls and nasty monsters ready to wrestle you to the ground and destroy you. It is so much easier to know how to reach out and feed something once you know what it really is and once it takes the food from your hand, it will come back for more. Then, there is no end to all the beautiful adventures that may follow.

That Fluttery Butterfly Feeling

Waking up with the feeling that something good is about to happen -- that is the secret to life.

That something good can be awfully simple. There have been times in my life where it was as simple as expecting an email from someone sweet, and there have been times when it was as extraordinary as expecting a new baby in the family. The important thing is the way it makes me feel.

I love the fluttery, butterfly feeling that life is warm and exciting.

Sometimes it is why I write. When I am working on a story that draws me back again and again with that feeling, I am pretty sure it is good. (For me for sure, if for no one else.)

So, find those things that warm you up and make you tingle and cherish them. They're really "flowers" from the universe saying, "Life is good and fun and you should enjoy it!"

Stirring The Soup

The great Trickster reached down and stirred the soup of my life with one finger this week. I have some sort of flu, my tax person is trying to sort out why all my (two states and federal) refunds are messed up, and my computer crashed.

My computer crashing is tantamount to taking away my telephone and moving me so far out into the boondocks that messenger pigeons have trouble knowing where I live. It is like being grounded by a very unforgiving parent. Everything is on my computer.

Email is my way of communicating with friends across the country. Paying bills, and keeping track of my banking is all on line. My pictures were stored on my computer this year and they are all lost, except for the ones that were stored on line. All of my work is stored on the computer, books, stories, My Thots, cards, but most of that was carefully, and correctly, backed up. My music! All of my music that was neatly categorized and stored on itunes is gone! In short, my computer defines everyday life like a script does a sit com, only I'm not laughing right now.

I spent hours redoing what I could. Now I am trying to replace what is gone forever. For what it's worth, much cannot be replaced and I guess that is okay, sort of a cosmic cleansing, a forced simplifying of my life. Unfortunate from my standpoint, but not catastrophic. Other things can mostly be replaced with new versions that will require either buying a program, or spending hours downloading my old Cd's, and maybe re-buying a few songs.

I finally bought the Adobe Photoshop Elements 7 to replace my old Adobe program which is evidently gone forever. It is so different that I feel like a sleepwalker in a nightmare world. Nothing feels intuitive here for me, at least not yet.

The joys of living in the nano second! One quick stir and everything is affected. Well, not really everything. The truly important things, like people and life go on as usual.

I'd like to blame all of this on something that could be exorcised, but the truth is that I need to do a better job backing everything up in the future. And the truth is that I haven't done too much of that again, yet. Makes me wonder how big of a learning curve I need?

Harnessing God

If you believe in God and you believe that he calls you in some way, then you must believe this.

What spiritual callings God gives to us cannot be taken away by man. Man may maim, or destroy, but he cannot remove a God given gift.

Sometimes my faith falters and I don't know exactly what God is, but is it really necessary to know? Necessity to know seems to imply a desire to control and I doubt any God omnipotent enough to do all the things attributed to him, can be controlled.

I have pretty much come to the conclusion that God either is, or is not. All the rules man can dream up about him, or her, or perhaps an androgynous power we have no concept of, are only man's attempt to understand in his own terms what is really beyond understanding. And, (and this is the biggest "and" of all) man's attempt to harness God and use that power for his own benefit.

I don't seem to have a problem with God, but then I don't have a problem with a lot of things. I can accept them for whatever they are. I may not like them from time to time, but that is irrelevant.

It is the art of separating man's actions from reality that allows me to rest at night.