When I am an old woman

Several years ago, I participated in a women's group that was given a writing assignment.  We were handed a piece of paper, folded in half.  The front page had a picture of a woman standing by a small lake, feeding ducks.  At the bottom of the page are the words "When I am an old woman . . ."
At the top of the 2nd page are the words "I'll be. . ."
and I wrote: "the one the younger women, yes, even young girls, will turn to.  I will love having their company.  We'll drink tea or lemonade - they can tell me their dreams and I'll tell them mine.  I will cherish each moment we share - and when they leave to go on their way - I'll smile and sigh of big sigh - now I can go put my feet up and watch a football game."
At the top of the 3rd page are the words "I'll do . . ."
and I wrote: "the little things for the children that their parents are too busy to do - read a story, color in the cloring book with them, listen to them intently, as if they matter, because they DO!
At the top of the 4th page are the words "I'll have . . .
And I wrote: "more words to speak out against injustice - more silence to hear the song of the wind - more love in my heart to give away - and memories of my life as a woman.  Glory be!  A woman's life!

The idea for this project came from that most phenomenal book "At the Root of This Longing" by Carol Lee Flinders.  If you haven't read it, promise yourself, actually, take an oath, make a vow, that you will read it before the end of January 2010!

And now, dear and beloved readers, what will you do when you are an old woman?

The beat goes on . . .

I don't want to use this blog as an outlet for my pent-up frustration at the legislative process and yet I am so frustrated, so angry, so disappointed, so . . . well, just plain mad!  I just don't understand how one man, one Senator, can wreck such havoc on the welfare of the country.  He whines, he moans, he cries "Victim" and on and on it goes and what does he get for it?  Everything he wants!  What the . . . . ! ! !
'Nough said!
So now, in light of the season of Light, and nearing the time for the Winter Solstice, I am reminded of times when I was in the company of women who reveled in ritual - who celebrated ceremony - who acknowledged and embraced our bodies and their mysterious and miraculous connection to the Earth.  I miss them, those amazing women!  Two of them are still friends and for that and for them, I am "Thank you!"
I have wrapped all the Christmas presents and have them ready for bows to be applied once our Christmas celebration time arrives.  I think I already told you it won't be until January 3rd as two of our families will be out of town on Christmas with other families.  I still need to pick up a couple of "money-cards"; other than that, it is all taken care of as far as I am concerned.  My daughter Ann spoke of baking sugar cookies, magic squares and . . . oh, nuts, I can't think of the name of the cookies right now - chocolate cookies that are rolled into balls and then covered with powdered sugar so when they bake they look spackled.  Well, anyway, they are chewy and good!  I am delighted that she is carrying on a tradition that we followed when my children were young - seated around the dinette table - each with his/her own batch of sprinkles, etc.  Oh, such precious, precious memories!  That's really what this whole Holiday Season is about, huh?  Memories!  Sweet, sweet memories!
And for them and for you, dear readers, I say
Thanks for it all!

Showers of blessing

A soft rain has been falling for hours now and, as I look out my window at the trees, I can just imagine how grateful they are for the moisture that will eventually find its way into the earth to offer sustenance for the tap roots that connect them firmly to their source.  Oh, to have that kind of patience, that kind of trust, that kind of willingness just to be - just to be - without striving, pushing, wondering, fussing about or generally just digging up and up and up the seeds just planted to see if, by any chance, they have taken root yet.  Aren't we humans something or other? ? ? 
Speaking of seeds, reminds me of the time I was privileged to hear Sr. Joan Chittister speak at a local Orange County venue.  Her talk was filled with wisdom and humor and love - and the one sentence that has stayed with me ever since:  "It's not the seed's job to see the flower".  Whenever I think that perhaps my efforts toward any end are not bearing any noticeable fruit, I think of her profound words.
"It's not the seed's job to see the flower"! ! !
Thank you!
Thanks for it all!

Oops!

I was in the midst of re-reading the post I had composed for this morning when all of a sudden, my screen went blank.  Of course, it was the "update" function and I knew it was going to happen - I just didn't realize I had used several minutes of time letting my fingers write what was in my heart.
So, as I was saying . . .  One of the conversations I overhead at my exercise venue yesterday had to do with the idea of "keep Christ in Christmas".  I am sure you have heard similar remarks, or at least I assume you have.  When someone says "Happy Holidays" to me, I don't have a sense that she is forgetting the originations of the day - I assume it is a way of reaching out, acknowledging my presence and expressing friendliness.  I also believe that those words acknowledge that we are all different - not all the same - not everyone believes the same - not everyone worships the same - not everyone worships at all, for goodness sake.  So, please, dear readers, let us accept the wishes of this season, however they are expressed, with an open heart and an acknowledgement that truly, we are all in this together!
My heart hopes that your heart is having a really great day!
And. . . thanks for it all!

Family ties; family trees

I had a remarkable afternoon, yesterday, spending time with my nephew, Ken, who is an historian of the finest kind.  I make that statement with some bias, to be sure and yet what makes Ken so unique and special is that he is passionate about the story that lies underneath the facts.  He shared with me history from my mother's - his grandmother's - father's life that were just amazing.  He has developed all kinds of resources and networks that he can tap into to check on names, dates, addresses, occupations, births, draft status, etc.  I knew he was/is a gifted intellect; I just didn't have such a clear picture of his passion for the narrative.  Bless you, Ken - for the gift you are giving to all of our extended family.  Thank you!
The mountains of Southern California are snow-dusted (well, more than dust, thank you very much!) this morning and the air is crisp and clear.  How Nature does bestow her love upon us all - keeping us moist and washing out the sky, washing down the trees, roofs, streets and of course, bringing much needed water to the places where ducks and geese can swim and . . . well, I am just so grateful to have my eyes opened to see, and my heart opened to receive, the love that bestows itself upon us every moment of every day.
Last Sunday's talks at Common Ground (yes, talks - two ministers, two talks each service) concentrated on the truth that no matter how much we give love, if we don't have the capacity to receive love in return, pretty soon our love well runs dry.  And, of course, one of the most obvious ways to receive love is to look at the world around us.  And, oh, how much I do love you - Earth - and how you do show me how you love me!
Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!
Thanks for it all!

December 7th

I don't know how many of you dear readers, remember the actual day of 12/7/41.  I do.  And one of my most enduring memories is of going to the produce section of the grocery store and seeing the signs that said "We are Japanese-Americans".  I can only imagine how painful that day must have been to them - and, even worse, how awful it must have been to be rounded up and shipped off without the due course of law.  We Americans have not been - nor are we now - able to face uncertainty without lashing out and back.  Time to grow up, don't you think?
I wonder, as I write today, of why I am writing this blog.  A woman friend suggested it and I thought "okay, I'll do it", never really taking the idea inside and meditating on it.  I love to write, to be sure.  I love to express thoughts in words on paper, if you can call this "on paper", and yet I also realize I write for some kind of validation and recognition.  Living alone has its pluses and its minuses and one of the minuses is that I miss being witnessed; being seen; being acknowledged.  Is writing a blog the best way to fill in those holes? 
I wonder?
In the meantime, I will take the whole subject into my morning meditation, after saying
Thanks for it all!

Letters of Appreciation

One of the assignments from last Wednesday's class "Year to Live" at Common Ground (http://www.embracehumanity.com/) was to start writing letters of appreciation to those people in our lives whom we remember, sometimes fondly, sometimes not so fondly.  I chose to start with the ministers in my life - all women save two, who helped me, guided me, counseled me, (is "counseled" spelled with one "l" or two?  I never can remember!!!) and coached my labor from childhood innocence to full-term birthing of my spiritual path.  Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!  I find, as I write, that each one was the necessary and requisite partner on my soul's journey.  Had they come in any different order or any other different time in my life, I would not have been open and prepared to hear and to receive their wisdom.  Once again I am struck with the Wisdom of our Lives - with the Grace of our Journeys - with the Holy and Sacred Ground upon which we walk each moment of our lives. 
No more words need be written - the song of rejoicing and thanksgiving fills my heart and all that remains is -
Thanks for it all! ! !

Chasing security and safety

I find myself shaking my head in disbelief at the misplaced idea that we are "safe" and "secure" because we are well-armed, have a superior military force, have the biggest and the best of most anything and everything.  I don't know about you but the idea that citizens feel "safe" because they have guns stashed in their houses, or in their cars, or who knows where else, does not make me feel "safe" at all!  What do we mean by the words "safe and secure"?  What are the definitions we carry in our heads when we use those words?  It seems to me that "safe" means that no harm will come to me.  "Secure" means a feeling of certainty (I am sure, dear readers, that you have other ways of defining the terms) and yet when it comes right down to it, how can we be assured - ever - that no harm will come to us or that anything about us is certain?  I much prefer the heart-centered feeling that comes from trust, trust in Life, trust in the Universe, trust in the Spirit, trust in God, trust in whatever name may be the preferred noun to describe the Indescribable.  I may stumble and stub my toe or hit my shoulder against the wall or bang my head on the floor.  Does that mean that I am not safe?  I may entrust a friend with personal information or say something that is - to use Rev. Judy's expression - unskillful - and then find that my friend has betrayed me.  Does that mean I am not secure?
I am only as safe and secure as is my trust in my inner spiritual resources.  I am only as safe and secure as is my moment to moment reaction and response to what is going on in my world, my life, my body.  I am only as safe and secure as is my heart-felt and immediate sense of interconnection with all living things.
I cannot "chase" security and safety, I can only be the vessel through which security and safety can flow from the depths of my being through me into the world. 
I am so thankful that this is so, for me, today, this moment.
Thanks for it all!

When those we love, leave . . .

Yesterday as I was doing some clerical work for Common Ground, one of our members came in to say "farewell" as she is leaving for an extended trip to distant lands.  As she left, the words "Wherever you are, God is" came to mind.  How often, at least in my life, I have viewed the departure of family or friends and felt concern for well-being and now, how very, very comforting come the words "Whereare you are, God is" - for in truth, that is the truth.  In this moment, I can let go, accept and trust with all my heart, that all of us - yes, even me - are standing on Holy Ground and that we are in the midst of God.  Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!

Whenever I open this blog, I check the previous day's writing to see if there are any comments.  So far, only one has been posted.  I can understand that those of you who are reading these words, may not have anything to offer and that's certainly reasonable and acceptable.  And yet, and yet, I wonder, are you there, dear readers?  Do you find anything of value in my words?  Do you think from time to time of what you have read and found solace or comfort there?  Oh, I do so sincerely hope so.  And . . . whether you do or not, whether you are moved to write a comment or not . . . we are one, we are interconnected, we are breathing the same air and in love with the Life that we are.
Thanks for it all! ! !

Aha!

As I sat meditating this AM, with my precious kitty on my lap, I understood why it is that most of my life Trust has been such an issue for me.  It has to do with the definition the little girl Carol Anne assigned to the word.  She thought/thinks that the word implies certainty.  If she follows the rules (no negative thinking, no negative talking, no negative feeling) then she can trust (be certain) that her world will be just as she wants it to be all of the time.  So my conversation with her over the next few days will be about a new definition, a new understanding of the word.  Trust doesn't guarantee anything; it merely says that no matter what happens, who comes and/or goes, who says what or doesn't say what, you know, all those imponderables, NO MATTER WHAT, I will be able to turn within, to the center, to the source, to the She who is within, around, about, above, below, and find there the strength, courage, acceptance and willingness to be present. 
Dear readers, thank you for allowing me to be me through it all!
Thanks for it all!

I'm late. . . I'm late . . .

I know, I know, I haven't posted a word since last Friday.  No excuses, really, just busy days and how grateful I am that it was so! 
Of the days I missed, Saturday was the most significant for the Wolf family as it was the birth date of our dearest brother Baxter.  He was fifteen the year I was born and for me the father of the family.  I did call his widow, Ruthie, and we spoke of how much we still love him.  He has been gone since 1973 and yet his presence still fills my heart with joy when I think of him.  How blessed we are to have such people in our lives!
Yesterday, the messages Rev. Judy and Rev. Glenda gave (http://www.embracehumanity.com/ is the site where you can listen to their Sunday talks) carried the theme of Trust.  One of the images shown was of a mother swan gathering her babies under her wing.  It brought tears to my eyes as I yearned for such a mothering, protecting source - and, of course, it was pointed out several times during the service, that we do, in fact, have such a Presence which is found in the midst of our hearts.  How comforting to know that right here, right now, in this moment even as my fingers move across the keyboard, that Presence, which I call "She" is - and that is all I need to know.
Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!

I want to add just one more of the treasures I found as I was doing my reducing, reusing, recycling stuff last week.  This was written by one of the very dearest young men of the Psychosynthesis group I belonged to in the '90s.  He brought such a clear sense of honor, respect and reverence for the feminine within all of us.  I haven't heard from him for ages, I am sorry to say.  One of my most precious memories of him was brought back last Thursday night as my son and I attended a basketball game (the Bruins lost!) at the Anaheim Convention Center, for that is where Mitch's graduation took place.  He is an O.D. and I am confident, the best in the land.  Wherever you are, Mitch, however you are, you are remembered, honored and loved.

The Elder

"She sits in the misty forest.  An eerie glow of soft white surrounds her frail cloaked frame.  As I draw nearer, her face reveals a complexion weathered and wrinkled over immeasurable lifetimes, marked by the fathomless depth of two inky black eyes that dance with the light of the universe.

A faint half smile plays on her lips as she invites me to sit.  Long ancient fingers guide my settling body down to rest.  She looks at me with the knowledge of a mother, a father, a brother, a lover.  She is me and I am her.  In answer to my question, she silently encourages me to love in as many ways as I can, to explore the depth of my heart . . . and then I will know what is unknowable.

With a faint gesture, the smile dances on her face as the depth of her eyes draws me back to myself."

I trust (!) that your day, this hour, this moment, will be holy and love-filled for you and yours!

As we all say:  "Thanks for it all!"

Memories of 55 years ago today!

Did I mention earlier this week that on Wednesday, the 25th, my "baby" turned 50?  And that, today, my firstborn son turns 55?  As I was journaling this morning, the words that came regarding Brent's birthday were "Wow!  How did it get here so fast?"
And, as we are want to do, I remember back to the few weeks/days before his birth.  I was 22 at the time; so happy and anxious to be a mother.  My doctor had been recommended by a friend and we had, I thought, a pretty good relationship.  Brent was due to be born in mid-November and as the days stretched on, at one of my weekly appointments, I asked the doctor what to expect.  He looked at me in a rather dumb-founded way and explained that when labor started, my stomach would get as hard as a rock and it would feel like menstral cramps.  Nary a word about a mucuous (sp?) plug!  On the day before his birth, I noticed this jelly-like substance when I wiped myself.  "What's this?" I asked myself.  I called my friend and she explained what it was and not to be disturbed by it.  Soon thereafter, the "cramps" started and off to the hospital we went.  It was a maternity hospital in North Hollywood (we lived in Pacoima at the time).  I went through the prep - enema and shaving - and the nurse gave me some sort of a self-applied anesthesia that was strapped to my wrist.  The idea being that as the pain started, I would breath in the whatever it was that would temporarily put me under and when I was really under, my hand would automatically fall away and I would come back to full consciousness.  I was attending a Religious Science church at the time and the minister had given me an affirmation to say about how there was no pain, etc.  As the labor progressed, the pain did, too, to such a degree that when it started, I was too scared to properly administer the anesthetic.  I can remember crying out "Won't somebody do something to help me?".  I was in a labor room with other women as I recall.  I don't remember being wheeled into the delivery room - I don't remember exactly but I think I was given a "saddle block" that numbed me and then told to push and push and push again.  And then, he was there!  That precious baby boy! 
In those days, the hospital stay was 5, yes 5! days - and I shared a room with a woman who was 40 and whose grown daughter came to see her to tell her she herself was pregnant.  Interesting times, for sure.  I remember getting up to take a shower and not knowing if I was suppoed to take off the sanitary napkin belt or not.  I decided not to and later, when the doctor examined me, instructed me to be sure to thoroughly wash myself so the stitches would be cleansed!  I was embarassed!
When I compared my birth experience with that of my granddaughter who birthed a son in June, in a room at a hospital in Newport Beach where the large room she occupied was labor, delivery and post-delivery room, all in one.  She had a natal monitor; had an epideral (sp?) drip going when her Mom and I arrived to see her; her husband and two best friends were also there in the room until about two, two and a half hours before he was born.  And she went home within 48 hours of his birth.  My, how times have changed!
And yet the wonder, the awe, the mystery and the miracle of giving birth remains the same.  How grateful I am that it is so!
I send these words off to you, dear readers, trusting that your Thanksgiving was just that - full of giving Thanks!
Thank for it all!

The day before Thanks-giving day!

Wonderful smells of cinnamon and nutmeg as the pumpkin pies bake in the oven.  Dressing preparations underway and the silver polished, the crystal wineglassses washed, as well as the tablecloth and napkins.  Oh, those precious memories of Thanksgivings past when I was the one hosting/hostessing the dinner for the Marshall family.  And now, we meet at Brian's and Jeannie's home; she is the one preparing the turkey and baking the pies.  And the rest of us bring all the wonderfully delicious side-dishes.  I can hardly wait for tomorrow! ! !
As I extend to each of you, dear readers, my best wishes for a most thankful day, I conclude this post with the most remarkable words of Dinah Crail, dated 1859, with the heart-felt prayer that you are the person she speaks of to someone in your life and that you have someone in your life to be that person for you.

"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person,
having neither is weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them out,
chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them,
keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness,
blow the rest away."

Giving thanks for you in my life, each and every day, I say again and again
Thanks for it all! ! !

So what does it all mean anyway?

As I have mentioned previously, I am not feeling quite as upbeat as I would like to - and as I journaled early this morning, the idea came that being however I am is quite all right.  My life turns in circles and cycles, just as all of our lives do so it seems to me the most loving thing I can do for me, my body, my spirit and my life is to embrace all of it as completely and wholly (and holy) as I can each moment of the day. 

Well, that said . . . now I would like to share with you another one of those treasures I found in my folder marked "CoDA stuff".

Letting Go

To "let go" does not mean to stop caring, it means I can't do it for someone else.

To "let go" is not to cut myself off, it's the realisation that I can't control another.

To "let go" is not to enable, but to allow learning from natural consequences.

To "let go" is to admit powerlessness, which means the outcome is not in my hands.

To "let go" is not to try to change or blame another, it's to make the most of myself.

To "let go" is not to care for, but to care about.

To "let go" is not to fix, but to be supportive.

To "let go" is not to judge, but to allow another to be a human being.

To "let go" is not to be in the middle arranging all the outcomes,

but to allow others to affect their own destinies.

To "let go" is not to be protective, it's to permit another to face reality.

To "let go" is not to deny, but to accept.

To "let go" is not to nag, scold or argue,

but instead to search out my own shortcomings and correct them.

To "let go" is not to adjust everything to my desires

but to take each day as it comes, and cherish myself in it.

To "let go" is not to regret the past, but to grow and live for the future.

To "let go" is to fear less and love more.

       - Love Unlimited

Gosh, if I really took all those words in and made them part of my spiritual practice each and every day, the shift would be momentous, wouldn't it?  Time to practice what I preach, eh?  And, of course, to say. . .

Thanks for it all!

Another treasure found!

Written by Susan marie Doyle, 1988:

The Universe yet incomplete on the sixth day
God created her
WOMAN
and God said to her
I shall give to you
A Heart full of Compassion
A Spirit free to Fly with the birds
A Vessel to carry Life into the world
Wisdom to know great truths
Courage to rise out of oppression
Strength to move mountains
Gentleness to kiss the earth
Passion to set the world on fire
Vision to respect the earth that bore you
A playful nature to Dance with the Children
Laugher to fill the valleys
Tears to wash the pain away
Hands for laboring and loving
Intuition to know the unknown
Desire to be that which you were created to be
and God said to her
WOMAN
I have created  you in my Image and Likeness and
YOU ARE GOOD.

Thank you, dear readers, for allowing me to share these treasures with you.  Some of them I haven't read for a very long time and it is like greeting dear, dear friends to read the words again.
Thank you.

Yesterday was a memorable day for a memorial service for the father of one of my dearest friends.  Family members shared his history, his dreams, and the effect he had on each of their lives.  Friends spoke of his influence and the impact his presence had on their lives.  It was a love-filled time and I am grateful to have been a witness to it.
I don't know exactly when the shift occurred between funerals being church services and memorial services being a celebration of life and I do know I heartly embrace the change.  I hope you do, too.
And so, dear ones, we come to the end of another week.  I pray and trust that, for you, it was one in which you can heartily and thankfully say "Thanks for it all!"

Other treasures found

In years' past, I wrote letters to my women friends on Mother's Day and at Christmas.  This is one I found going through files yesterday, written for Christmas 1993.

Ceremonial Woman

I see her from a distance, across the room.

Breath stops - heart skips - knees buckle.

Sweeness.  The scent of roses?

Something familiar - a remembrance

like wisps of smoke, seen, then not.

Her feet step firmly on the earth, yet lightly

lest harm come to any living thing.

Her heart precedes her

far above, beneath, around, about.

Is it true?  Can there be that much love?

Her eyes look, see, embrace the view -

all that is seen dances in the joy of the seen.

Her laugh - tinkling celeste, hearty timpani,

a symphony, every range of sound,

inclusive, draws, entices me in.

Her body, strong in the truth -

interconnected, interdependent.

"We each live each other."

Her truth, now mine, once absent, now clear.

Her soul, her presence, her delight, her accessibility,

her wisdom, her courage, her integrity, her essence.

Mystery entered into the womb of her who births

me, the salmon, the whale, the wolf, the bear,

the tree, the mountain, the hawk, the eagle,

the lake, the stream, the ocean,

the volcano, the glacier -

all that is, born of her.

You, beloved Sister, are she -

Ceremonial Woman.

Blessed are you

and the fruit of your womb.

And this, a reading that was included in my CoDA meetings:

Prayer of the Person: (Author unknown)
The person across from you is the greatest miracle and the greatest mystery in this moment - a testament to God's continuing creation and presence in the world.
The person across from you is an inexhaustible reservoir of possibility, with potentialities only partially realized.
The person across from you is a unique universe of experience - of possibility and necessity, laughter and tears, love and indifference, hopes and fears - all struggling for expression.
The person across from you believes in something - something precious; stands for something, lives for something, labors for something, waits for something, runs for something, runs towards something.
The person across from you is not perfect - often feels disappointed, is often undecided and disorganized and woefully close to chaos; but is endowed with a tremendous inner strength and is capable of surviving great difficulties and persecutions.
The person across from you is a community of persons - persons met during a lifetime.  Each carries with them a mother and father, student and teacher, brother and sister, enemy and friend.
The person across from you does some things like no one else in the world.  There is something this one life on eartth means and cares for - will that person dare speak of it to you?
The person across from you is more description that explanation.  The person across from you is MYSTERY made in God's image, never tobe fully understood.
Look before you and wtihin you - look around - for God is indeed among us!

As I mentioned yesterday about a writing that came to me "author unknown", if any of you knows who wrote these magnificent words, please be sure to post a comment so the author can be duly recognized and honored.


Thank you, my dear sisters - for your most precious eyes that read these words.
I am so grateful!
Thanks for it all!

Clean up, clear out!

I had one of those times, yesterday morning, when it was just . . . well, you know, time to clean up and clear out.  I look forward to this time of year, shredding old tax documents and going through other "important" files to see what's in them.  I had such a great sense of accomplishment and found some real treasures to boot!  I hope you will find some of the following words encouraging, enlightening and helpful.

From Lenore Weir, writtein 7/20/96:
"Returning to the Mother"
"A million years ago, it must have been haunting, as it is to me now.  As She is to me now.  This giant mother in the wilderness who calls my name in the moonlight, whose voice I hear these many miles away.  She must have called to them, too.  And that is why they danced there, near the fires, padding down the grassses to leave their mark for me.  I wonder, did they dream of Her?  Did they hear Her voice in the streams along the way?  Did She beckon and tantalize, beseech and taunt, follow them, the way She follows me?"
"A million years ago, I must have laid my hands on these rocks, stroking the crevices in a prayer for safety, for food, for shelter.  I must have warmed my weary back against them in the sun, clamored over them at dusk in a hurry to get "home".  I must have called these mountains home then.  It is the only way I can explain the calling I hear even through the city night sounds.  It is the way I know that heart-thumping joy while rounding a band of rough road, seeing Her laying there once again.  It is, simply, coming home". 

The following was sent to me by way of an email on 11/3/2003, by my niece's daughter, Ginny, who does not cite the author.  If any of you know who wrote these beautiful words, please be sure to let me/us know, okay?

"God Says Yes To Me"
"I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I am telling you is
Yes Yes Yes"

I'll close this morning's post with this quote from "Illusions" by Richard Bach as printed on the page for the month of July, in a Hallmark Calendar for the year 1980 (again, let me say how I honor copyright laws and trust that I am not overstepping here).

"The mark of your ignorance is the depth of your belief in injustice and tragedy.
What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the master calls a butterfly."

With love and deep appreciation for your eyes that read these words, I say
Thanks for it all!

Wonder where that came from?

I was/am still pretty much surprised by the words that came out of my fingertips yesterday morning.  In rereading them, I can hear the voice of the teenage girl, the romantic, the one who believed with all her heart, that "they were happily married ever after" girl.  I can see her and embrace her and let her speak her words without hesitation today.  She is a part of me, and, as a very wise woman once said to me "You can bring all of you to the Altar".  And so I shall.
Of course, there is a much broader meaning to the word "Love" than I wrote of yesterday.  My more mature self feels that love is an energy not an emotion; that it is what carries us forward, like that underground river of life-sustaining, life-affirming moisture and nourishment.  I can feel it pulsing through me sometimes and am so grateful that it is so.
'nough said!
Thanks for it all!

Honest, at last!

Arriving at the celebration of my 77th trip around the sun last September, I thought I knew myself quite well; had done tons of recovery work; visited professional psychologists and had very recently spoken with two women whom I admire beyond words and yet, reading today's meditation about being open to love, brought me to my senses and to my most honest self.  "Be open to love" were the words starring at me from the page.  Who?  Me?  Nope!  No way!  Now wait a minute, I thought, "What are you telling me, purple-ink pen as you scratch away on the notepaper?".  And the words came tumbling out.  I can admire men, like men, appreciate men and there are several in my circle of friends whom I do admire, like and appreciate.  But be open to loving a man?  No.  I can't go there again.  Way too scarey.  Way too much risk.  Way too vulnerable.  Past experience led me to this conclusion.  Past experience left scars.  Past experience left me devastated. 
So, what now?  Now, instead of wondering why the journey of my life has found me living the vast majority of life without male companionship, I have the option of shining another light on the pathway and with wonder and awe, summon up the resolve to look deeper and deeper and so I shall.  Fear, that almost forbidden word and idea in some circles, can lead me home if I give my permission for it to do so and I shall! 
Whew!  After that bit of soul revelation, I have another wonderful experience to share with you this morning, dear readers.  A lovely woman came into Common Ground (http://www.embracehumanity.com/) a few weeks ago and I showed her around our facilities.  She explained she was in the process of deciding whether or not to move here from Colorado.  At the conclusion of our time together, she said she had made up her mind.  She would relocate here.  We have met several times since and yesterday, after our morning service, she and I went out to breakfast.  And you know, it just blew me away!  We share so many experiences together!  I mentioned Matthew Fox; she said she had attended one of his Cosmic Masses in Boulder, Colorado.  I mentioned the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland and she said she had been there many times.  The seeming conincidences didn't stop there and I am sure you get the idea.  Isn't the journey amazing?  How what seemed like a chance meeting has brought the two of us together in the birthing of a friendship born of common experience as well as curiosity in what this moment, this very NOW can bring forth.
Wow!  What a wonderful opportunity to say, one more time
Thanks for it all! ! !

What would life be without music?

As for me, I don't want to find out what a music-less life would be like!  Our Common Ground party last night was full of music - the kind that comes out of keyboards and voices singing lyrics without caring who can hear and how we sound!  That's my kind of singing, to be sure!  And then, of course, there is the music that comes from the heart - laughter, joy, deep appreciation and reverence for the Life we all share.  I love my family beyond words, of course and friends - well, friends are the chosen ones - soul-lights that come on and say "Hi!  I see you!  Come on over and let's share some of our life-journey together!"  Of course, family can be friends, too.  Please don't think I am ignoring that truth.  It's just that, well, I am head over heels in love with my friends and I am so grateful and thankful that it is so.
We sat at tables of 8 and played a mystery game; our ministers (Bless them!  Bless them!  Bless them!) made sure each of us was recognized, by name, in their amazing skill of rhyming us all together.  The food nourished, as food will do and yet the real nourishment came from the glow in the eyes of each one as we greeted, chatted, and just simply enjoyed each other.  Oh, what a gift! 
Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!
Thanks for it all! ! !

A Special Day for Common Grounders!

I know the wisdom of the day says to live in the moment, and yet, as I look at the clock 1:19PM or so my computer says, I am thinking about this evening when our spiritual community will come together to eat, laugh, be merry and just plain enjoy ourselves!  This is something we do quite well and I am so grateful to be a part of it all!  This will be my third anniversary party, although it is the fifth for Common Ground.  Thank you, blessed Angels, for leading me to my spiritual home!
Also, this afternoon, I completed reading, for the fifth, sixth or perhaps seventh time, "Woman Who Run With The Wolves".  Each time I read it, I am amazed at the new depths of understanding that I find in Clarissa Pinkola Estes writing.  The stories touch me at deeper and deeper levels.  Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, and each time as I close the book to read again, I am so deeply grateful to my dear friend, Donna, who gifts me with the book at Christmas 1992.  Oh, how I hope and pray I have been wise enough to gift my family and friends with such a treasure as this one has been for me.
Thank you, thank you, thanks for it all!

A day of note

Some days are more noteworthy than others and this day is one of those in the Marshall family.  My younger daughter's 3rd son was born this day sixteen years ago.  I remember going to the hospital to pick up his older brothers to stay with me overnight and then took them with me to my part-time job in Tustin.  I gave them paper and pencil to write stories and/or draw pictures while I did my daily routine. 
The first time I held him, he felt so small and fragile in my arms.  His family decided to move to the high desert shortly after, and I only saw him once or twice after they moved.  And just a month plus five days before his 4th birthday, his soul said "Now!" and off he went to his next great adventure.
Happy Birthday, Dylan!  You are remembered and loved and remembered and loved and remembered and loved and . . .
Thanks for it all!

The best of times, the worst of times. . .

I hope you have been privileged to sit in the circle of women and bear witness to the awesome power of love and compassion that embraces each woman and the entire circle.  I had such an experience yesterday.  As I have mentioned a couple of times, I have been in a funk lately - nothing particularly going on - just feeling sad most of the time; tears at the ready.  Yesterday in our circle, a remarkable woman sitting next to me mentioned the need for us to be witnessed by someone else and bingo!  the light came on!  And then, just a few minutes later, a woman who has just relocated here mentioned the loneliness of living alone.  Bingo!  Another hit!  I have lived alone since 1981 when my younger son moved out to share an apartment with a friend.  Yes, there have been times when my daughters have moved back in for a short period of time, and while those count in a way, in another way, they don't.  It wasn't going to be a permanent life-sharing experience.  We understood that the time would come when they would go their way once again and once again, I would be living alone.  To be sure I have this most precious kitty (yes, I know, I still need to post a picture of her) named Gray who sits on my lap almost immediately each time I sit in my chair and stays there as long as she can.  I talk to her, pet her, tell her how beautiful she is and how thankful I am that she is here sharing her life with me.  All that is true, of course, and yet . . . well, it's not quite the same as having someone here who cares, who converses, who offers support, you know what I mean, I'm sure.  Yet with the miracle of the words "witness" and "lonely", at least now I have a hook upon which to hang my feelings, identify them and embrace them as wholly and as compassionately as I can.  Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you!
The other part of the title about the worst of times came along early last evening when I spoke with my older daughter and she gave me the news that one of her son's very best friends - the one he went fishing with, the one he shared so much of his time with - was killed on Saturday.  He was riding in an ATV out in the desert with his girlfriend and another young man who was driving.  At a high rate of speed, the driver decided to make a sharp left turn.  Shane's friend was thrown from the vehicle, the vehicle turned over onto him and he was killed.  What words are there to express the horror, the sorrow, the loss, the unspeakable grief that must arise from his parents, his girlfriend, his friend who was driving, all his other friends as well as my grandson?  How do we survive such gruesome deaths?  The way we do all the others, I guess, by accepting that Life is fragile, never is the next moment guaranteed and we must never take anyone's presence in our lives for granted.  So please, dear readers, reach out and touch the ones you love - tell them so - show them so - and let them love you back.  Please!  Please!  Please!
Thank you.
And yes, even now, thanks for it all!

The fourth of five!

I wonder if you will recall, dear readers, that I mentioned on the 4th of November that five of my eleven grandchildren were born from the 4th to the 12th of November?  And today is the birthday of my grandson, Grant.  He lives in Arizona right now and I haven't seen him since last Christmas.  As I journaled this morning, I wrote of/to him and how much I miss hearing from him.  I remember, when I was in my early twenties, how I assumed that everything would pretty much stay the way it was; that I didn't need to pay attention to how the days speed by and how time just seemed to stretch out endlessly in front of me.  It didn't take such a long time to figure out that that is not the way it works - people come and go; events come and go; passions flow and ebb; all part of the circle of the journey of our lives.  Let's make a deal, shall we, to remember, each day, those we love and tell them so. 
In the class I am attending on "Year to Live" at Common Ground, one of the parts of the process is to write letters of appreciation to those who have impacted our lives, no matter how large or small.  Each time I pick up a pen or pencil to write, I am reminded of a dear teach at Thomas Jefferson Elementary School in Glendale, California by the name of Mrs. Wendt.  She taught penmanship and, as I am left-handed and was instructed, as we all were, to place my paper angled toward the left side of my desk, started out writing with my wrist bend over.  This dear lady was progressive enough and patient enough to place my paper the other way, angled toward the right side so I could write with my wrist relaxed and straight.  It took months and months for anyone to be able to read my writing, and, finally, it did come together.  Thank you!  Thank you!  Thank you, Mrs. Wendt!  You live in my heart and memory!  Thank you!
Thanks for it all!

Dichotomy, paradox or ? ? ?

Good Sunday morning, dear readers! 
Have you ever wondered, I wonder, about how to reconcile these two prevalent adminitions?  "Don't be a human doing, be a human being" and "Actions speak louder than words"?  One of my mother's favorites was "Who you are speaks so loud I can't hear what you are saying".  So, which is it?  Or is it both?  Or is it none of the above?  Personally, while I love to hear the words "I love you", I truly want and need to have the actions of the speakers be consistent with the words.  I want to show those I care about, with what I do, as well as with what I say.  One of my favorite words around this idea is "congruence".  There needs to be a match.  There needs to be consistency.  I sure would be interested in hearing/reading what you may have to offer on the subject.
I send good wishes and prayers your way, today!  May the sun shine warmly on your face, the rain fall softly on your head and the wind blow gently on your back (or words to that effect!).
Thanks for it all!

This moment, this very NOW

In the process of the "Year to Live" class at Common Ground, it was suggested that a daily journal entry would be helpful.  For years, in the past, I had done so and somehow the practice got away from me.  When I re-started that spiritual practice, I picked up a daily meditation book that had been my morning companion for years ("Journey to the Heart" by Melody Beattie, copyright 1996, published by Harper Collins).  I am prohibited from quoting directly from her writing and so I will paraphrase this morning's message:  It is tempting sometimes to think we have to be in a special place at a special time in a special kind of apparel having followed a special diet, etc., etc., etc.  As it turns out, the most sacred, most spiritual, most holy moment, place, space, is the one we are occupying at this very moment!  I was quite taken aback by that idea this morning as the past few days have found me feeling much more sadness than joy; much more anxiety than serenity.  Can those "negative" feelings be holy?  Can't I just ignore them and go on to the much more "positive" feelings?
"Well, no, of course not!" I hear myself saying.  If God, the Holy, the Sacred, the Great Spirit, is Love, then surely I can bring all of myself to that Center and find acceptance and comfort regardless of how I am feeling.

"And every moment is a spiritual experience - every moment informs us - informs our lives and answers the questions:  Where am I this moment?  Who am I this moment?  Why am I this moment?  How am I this moment?  I listen to the wee small voice within - my inner sense of what, who, where and why.  Precious gift!  Grace-filled gift!  Power-filled gift!"  (The words I wrote earlier this AM.)
Dear readers, may we all say, with one heart and one intention -
Thanks for it all! ! !

Those unanswerable questions

Yesterday, a dear friend asked me "So who told you you couldn't make mistakes?"  I was so taken aback that I didn't immediately answer the question.  It just sort of brewed and simmered and came out of my pen this morning.  Making mistakes was/is a cause of shame in me.  I don't remember being shamed, in particular, by my mother although I do remember her mantra to me was "never do anything that I would be ashamed of".  Strange that I would remember that this minute and not while I was journaling.  What came out then was that to make a mistake, was to be wrong and to be wrong was to be set aside, separated, cast away, not a part of, no longer belonging.  I probably don't need to tell you, and I will anyway - those ideas and feelings have been following me as long as I can remember.  Most often, the remarks my elementary school teachers would make on my report cards were "Carol Ann does not take criticism well".  Later on in life, a boss pointed out that when a mistake of mine was uncovered, I didn't take it well.  And here it is again.
One of the most potent and remarkable things of the 12-step program of which I was a member for many years, was the understanding that when "stuff" comes up, it is because we are at the precise place and space to face it, look it square in the eye, acknowledge it, embrace it and come to peace with it.  So, dear reader, once again, I take that little blue-eyed girl in my arms, enfold her, stroke her hair, rock her gently to and fro, and with all the love and compassion in my heart, I tell her "You are loved.  You are loved.  You are loved.  Just as you are, you are loved."  She puts her hand on my cheek and pats it ever so softly and says "I love you, too!"
And, indeed, I do!
Thanks for it all!

Favorite books by Matthew Fox

Good morning, dear readers:  This morning the writings of Matthew Fox spring to mind.  Each morning as I drink my coffee, pet my kitty, read the newspaper, etc., I also find my eyes wandering through the titles of the books on the shelf.  There is one shelf that holds about 20 or so books by this esteemed writer/priest.  I was introduced to him by Dr. Rocco Errico in the late '80s, when I attended his "Church of Daily Living" in Irvine, CA.  The particular recommendation at that time was "The Coming of the Cosmic Christ".  What a revelation to read his words of inclusion.  "Kingdom/Queendom of God" particularly caught my attention.  Just about knocked me off my chair, to be honest.  The next book purchased as "Original Blessing" which created quite a stir in the Vatican.  His very first book "Whee!  We,  wee" drew a strong reprimand from then Cardinal Ratzinger (forgive me if I have misspelled his name - he is now Pope Benedict).  A couple of books later and Matt was silenced by the Vatican for a year.  He spent that time traveling among the indigenous peoples of South America.  Some years later, he left the Dominicans and is now an Episcoplian Priest.  His life story is chronicled in "Confessions of a Post-Modern Priest".   Please do give his writings a thoughtful read.  It is time well spent!
Our commitment to community, to life shared, to compassionate support, is our heart-line to love!
Thanks for it all!

New month, new time zone, new . . everything!

Good morning, dear readers!  Although my computer clock says 7:29 AM, it feels an hour later.  Last night - well, this morning - was the time to turn the clocks back one hour.  I have been up since 5AM - couldn't stay in bed any longer.  I am grateful for the sake of the school kids who have zero period, like my grandson, who had to be at school while it was still dark.  At least now there will be a bit of daylight for them to start their school day.  I do wish, a whole lot, that the powers that be would just leave the clock time at "standard time".  The old rational for the change has long gone by the boards in my estimation!
This is indeed a very, very special day.  I get to celebrate the 75th birthday of a dear, dear friend this afternoon.  Her family is hosting and, I assume, toasting her for attaining this milestone.  I am so honored to be included in the festivities.
And, from her party, I will proceed to the celebration of my grandson's (Quinn) 4th birthday.  His birthday is actully on the 6th and celebrating today will not make one iota of difference to him or to us who get to share in his wonderfully exciting and energetic world!  Am I not blessed to be a witness to the span of years covered by these parties?  Indeed!  Indeed!  Indeed!
And so, my dear ones, with that in mind and with deep and abiding thankfulness for your attention and tenderness with these words that flow from me, I wish you the very best Sunday ever!
Thanks for it all!

Procrastinator? Who, me? ? ?

I have been telling myself all week that when Saturday came, I would clean house, FOR SURE!  And now, here I sit, waiting for the words to come from my fingertips onto the keyboard and hence onto the screen in front of me.  It's not like it's a big deal, for goodness sake!  I live in a small, two room apartment, barely 500 square feet, if that!  It takes me all of two maybe two and half hours to clean bathroom, kitchen, mop floors, dust and vacuum.  And still I dawdle and hem and haw and . . . well, I did just finish shredding documents I don't want to just throw in the trash.  That's something, right?
Okay, enough already, it is not going to get done unless I do it!
My best to you all!  May your Halloween be fun and full of laughter!  May all you witches, hags and crones recognize that in the beginning, your walk in the world was to bring healing through touch, herbs and other natural methods; that your names were once honored as the highest title that could be bestowed and was given only to those women whose presence brought peace, love, understanding and cooperation.  We can reclaim our place in the world and so, let's to it!
And, in the meantime, let's say "Thanks for it all!"

What is more dear and precious than friendship?

I had such a wonderful time yesterday afternoon.  I met with a dear friend whom I have known 6-7 years, I guess, for lunch.  We sat outside, taking in the sun, a bit of a breeze, good food and lively conversation.  We shared deeply and laughed a lot!  What a joy it is to have a friend - to be a friend! 
Also, I just ran across this quote I made note of several months go:  "Take responsibility for the time you use and the space you occupy".  My note says "The Age of the Unthinkable" and the name of the person I scribbled is undecipherable.  I wish I had taken more pains to write it more clearly. 
"Take responsibility for the time you use and the space you occupy."
That is an amazing sentence, in my mind.  And in my mind, it is a mindful way to live a life.  For me, to take responsibility for the time I use means to think about, to weigh, and to feel my way through each day as though there are consequences for my actions, as indeed there are.  How I spend my day matters - not in the sense of "Look at me!  See what I am doing!" as much as it is reveals me, my self, my being, and how I see myself in connection, interdependence with others, that counts. 
Take responsibility for the space I occupy?  What is the energy I bring with me into any space?  What are the feelings that emanate from my being in any one place at any one time?  This morning, as usual, I did my exercise routine, meeting several women friends and visiting with a woman I had not met before.  We chatted mostly about baseball and the team we support (or not, as the case may be - she being a Yankee fan and I am NOT!) and so on.  She also mentioned she had a migraine headache and, although I have never had one, I could not for a minute imagine pulling, pushing, lifting, the machines around like we do with my head throbbing as I imagined hers doing.  So, did I take responsibility for the space I was occupying at that moment?  Did I remember to offer a blessing and a prayer to her from my heart to her head?  To be absolutely honest, I cannot exactly remember that I did - and I certainly hope so.  That would be, for me, a definition of taking responsibility for the space I occupy.
From my workout, I drove to a retail center to purchase birthday cards.  There are loads of November birthdays coming up for the Marshall family.  Would you believe, out of the eleven grandchildren I have been blessed to love, five of them are born from November 4th to November 12th!  And two of my four children have birthdays later in November, and the brother who was a surrogate father to me, Baxter, was born on the 28th.  So many celebrations - so much love to share! 
Then I went to another store to purchase a pair of black pants.  I had received one of those $10 off coupons for shopping between 10/27-10/31.  As I cut the coupon out, I had this feeling that there was some fine print I needed to read.  As small as the "fine print" was, I couldn't exactly make it out.  After I had made my selection, the cashier said "This doesn't apply".  No surprise!  And, as it turned out, the woman next to me, with whom I had carried on a conversation while waiting in line, could use the coupon and so I said "Sure!"
I do hope that I can honestly say that today, I took responsibility for the time I used and the space I occupied.
Until tomorrow - dear reader -
Thanks for it all!

When taking a deep breath seems all one can do

Some changes, unexpected (well, aren't almost all changes unexpected?) have come my way opening up a place in me that is almost as familiar as the back of my hand.  Speaking of the back of my hand, as I was holding my great-grandson Luke a couple of Saturdays ago, I had to marvel at the difference in our hands.  Mine looked like my Mother's used to look and his, well, at four months plus, looked fresh, untested, ready and willing to reach for anything within his grasp.  What an amazing memory-moment!
Anyway, as I was saying, a seemingly small and insignicant change in my Tuesday routine has set me on a new and same old course; dealing with feelings as old as my memory itself.  How do we learn that we are what we do?  Is it a way to gain attention?  A way to be noticed?  A way to lessen the pain of not knowing what is going on while everyone around seems to? 
Now I wonder if I am revealing more of myself than seems reasonable for a blog like this?  One of the members of one of the groups I attend at Common Ground recently announced "This isn't what I signed up for."  Are you feeling that way, dear reader?  If so, you have my permission to be excused.
Or perhaps you are reminded, as I have been, that Life presents the gifts of our experiences just at the very moment we have the time, the place, the resources and the support to move to a place of greater depth and understanding about how we are in the world.  That was one of the hallmarks of my time in a 12-step program and I have relied and trusted that bit of truth ever since.
I love to help out - to see what needs to be done, to do it with or without recognition.  One of our ministers at Common Ground pointed out one time that if any one of us sees a task to be done, then it, obviously, is ours to do.  I took her at her word; well, to be honest, I think that is pretty much the way I operate anyway.  (Pardon the interruption, Gray just came to sit in my lap, her warm body and sweet face bringing comfort and companionship.  Oh, how I love her!  And I do promise, once I can find it, to post a picture I took of her a few months back.  Lacking that, I will take another soon so you can see this kitty who receives my love and gives hers back to me!)
So as I was saying, I now plan to sit quietly, absorbing the energy of the Angels I feel around me; to see with clear eyes and to hear with ears attuned to the Love that is All in All!
Thanks for it all!

Oh, I got it now!

Yesterday I wrote that I couldn't remember the name of the international organization that had been the impulse to start "Imagine Peace".  In my meditation time, it came to me:  "Alliance for a New Humanity".  Common Ground-goers came to know of this group because our ministers, Rev. Judy dePrete and Rev. Glenda Knox, traveled to Puerto Rico in the summer of 2007 to attend a conference headed by Deepak Chopra.  When they returned, they facilitated an evening group discussion wherein we decided to become a part of this alliance.  Each time we met (once a month), we would read a few pages of dedication, commitment and reminders of what this organization and our participation in it meant.  I took these readings to be part of a ritual shared by humans all over the planet.  It was so heart-expanding!  I just loved it.  However, apparently, some thought the readings to be too repetitious and consequently it was decided to drop them.  Within a month or two, the meetings stopped altogether.  Had I been a participant in Common Ground for a longer time, I might have (and now wish that I had) expressed my feelings more strongly than I did that night.  I did make mention of the fact of how awesome it was to be part of such an alliance - to be reminded each time we read the words that others across the planet were doing the same thing - reading the same words.  Still the decision to abandon (perhaps that is too strong a word?) held.  However, at one of the side-bar meetings attended by a few of us, a decision was made to meet at that intersection in Tustin on Tuesday afternoons from 4 to 5PM.  Originally our signs said "Standing in Peace".  One Sunday morning, a couple of months later, there was a one-page ad in the L A Times with the words "Imagine Peace", signed by John Lennon's widow.  I took that page to our service that morning and Rev. Glenda suggested that our signs be changed, and changed they were.
Whew!  What a lot of words simply because I remembered "Alliance for a New Humanity:"!
So, with that, dear, dear readers, I will ask:  How is your day going?  How are you feeling?  What are your hopes and desires for this moment, this very NOW?  What are they asking you to do for you, for your life?  And if you are of such a mind, please share them. 
And, in the meantime, may we all say "Thanks for it all!"

P.S.

Remember when I said, a few days ago, that I needed to "check my work".  Well, I went back to the opening page and noticed that the word to describe those of you who have signed on, is "Followers", not "friends".  Would you believe I had typed the word "Followers" and thought, as I reread the post, that it was incorrect?
And, as I reviewed the post, I noticed at the bottom of the page, is a place for comments.  So . . . if you feel so inclined, please do.  And, once more, thanks for it all!

Tuesday, Tuesday!

First of all, a huge "Thank you" to those of you who have signed on as "friends".  I do appreciate your willingness to be so identified.  Also, part of my lack of technical understanding is that I thought, when I started this venture, that you would be able to post comments that we could all read.  If you have any suggestions as to how I can make that available to you, I would be most appreciative.
I titled today's blog "Tuesday, Tuesday!" because it is my favorite day of the week.  Each Tuesday I volunteer time at Common Ground (http://www.embracehumanity.com/) doing whatever service I can for our community.  It's really simple stuff - answering phones, changing out candles in our votives, watering plants, etc.  And I just love it!  Another speciality about Tuesdays is that the 2nd and 4th Tuesday of each month, we meet at 10AM for Women's Wisdom, a gathering of women who sit in a circle and who share at whatever depth is available at the moment.  I am reminded of a saying, and forgive me, I have no idea where it came from:  "Joy shared is doubled, sorrow shared is halved".  That pretty much sums it up.  What an amazing and healing group it is. 
And the last part of the afternoon, from 4 to 5PM, I stand (along with another member of our community, occasionally another one or two join us) at the corner of Irvine Blvd and Prospect Ave in Tustin, holding a sign that reads "Imagine Peace".  This started a couple of years ago, I think, at the suggestion of one of our members.  At that time, we held monthly meetings around the idea of holding a global perspective (for the life of me I cannot think of the precise name! ! !) for peace, interdependence, and reverence for all life.  At first there were quite a few of us and little by little, it became my friend and I.  I sometimes arrive there feeling a bit tired and, when it is either very hot or on the cold side, wonder how I can make it through the hour.  Amazingly enough, the first wave of a motorist's hand is like the best medicine in the world.  Immediately my body responds, my heart opens up and there we are, together!  Sometimes I notice that the driver of the car passing by seems to be intent on not looking at the sign or acknowledging our waving hands.  And I know enough about the workings of our eyes that the message has been received and it being filed away in the brain somewhere.  And so I say "Bless you" and deeply and truly mean it.  There are some who honk horns almost before they reach the intersection, anticipating our presence and wanting to be counted among us.  There is a school bus driver who flashes her lights and/or waves her arm.  Sometimes if the bus goes by with children in it, they lower the windows and flash peace signs!  It is just too precious for words.
Well, now, I didn't exactly mean to go on and on and yet . . . I am sure you will allow for my burst of enthusiasm about this experience.  Using the word "enthusiasm" reminds me that I once purchased a tee shirt in Ashland, Oregon, that had a large design of fireworks going off and underneath it said "Caution, wearer is subject to bursts of enthusiasm!"  Don't know where that shirt is today and I do wish I had it back!
So now I close this post with a prayer that you, too, have such a day each week in your lives - that your heart and mind and passions are stirred to do something for the sake of us all.  We are all in this together!
Thanks for it all! ! !

Monday, Monday!

Good morning, one and all!  The Santana Winds have arrived!  They usually show up around Hallowe'en and sure enough, sometime in the night, I heard them roaring around the apartment complex.  Lots of my neighbors have umbrellas shielding patios and I wondered if any were blown away.  I didn't see any evidence of that so perhaps the wind wasn't blowing quite as hard as it sounded.
Before I forget, I want to take care of some business that has been buzzing around in the back of my mind.  I may, from time to time, use the proper name of a place of business or refer to a book or a play.  I most certainly do respect trademark names and copyrights.  If I err in not acknowledging that fact, please be kind and, of course, bring it to my attention.  In my profile, I didn't check the box for posting my email address.  Not sure why I made that decision and I will change it so you can let me know directly by email.
That said . . .
I have just returned from my Monday workout at Curves (a trade-mark registered name).  I have belong to this exercise club since October of 2003.  Years and years of sitting at an office desk and doing no exercise at all had certainly taken it's toll, so after I moved to Yorba Linda and the company I worked for moved its location to E. Orangethorpe, and as I was driving to work one morning, I passed a sign that said "Curves"!.  I simply could no longer ignore it.  I stopped by that afternoon and signed up and I have been there, pretty much three times a week, ever since.  I have lost close to 60 lbs and a whole lot of inches.  It took a long time to be sure and it certainly was/is worth the effort.  My aim is to make sure this body-temple is as healthy as possible.  The weight and inches loss is great, of course, and mostly I am just so grateful to be in touch with my body; to bless it each and every day.  In his book "The Biology of Belief" by Dr. Bruce Lipton, he suggests that, inasmuch as each cell is enclosed in membrane that acts not only as a transmitter, informing the cell of the work it is to do, but that it is also a receiver, so everytime we bless our bodies, everytime we bless the trillions and trillions of cells that make up our bodies, we are supporting our immune system to its maximum.  So simple, so easy, so miraculous, so amazing!
I have been and continue to be in awe and wonder at the loving and supportive comments I have received from my words.  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  (As I type these words, I am reminded of a friend who read the draft of my book a couple of years ago.  When I went to retrieve the manuscript, she told me I had included the words "Thank you" 26 times!  It was her suggestion that perhaps I had overdone it, so I did go back and edit out a few of them.  I am so reminded that Meister Eckhart said (and I paraphrase, of course), "If the only prayer we pray is Thank You, that would be enough".
And so, my dear, dear readers -
Thank you!
Thanks for it all!

Sunday in SoCal!

Good afternoon!  My Sunday mornings are quite full as I help open and greet congregants at Common Ground for our 9AM service.  I love being involved and contributing whatever it is I can as the energy of the community. 
This morning I found myself (and still do to some degree) feeling quite unsettled; words aren't coming to me very easily, having trouble remembering why I went into a certain room and what I went there for.  I had a very restful day yesterday and don't feel any particular stress, so . . . I guess it's just one of the days for me to be thoughtful and pay close attention.
This morning, I would like to talk about the 2nd of my favorite books listed in my profile.  Please understand the chronological order has nothing to do with the impact of each book upon my life, okay?
Anyway, "A God Who Looks Like Me" came into my life in 1995, the year it was copyrighted.  I wish I could remember exactly how I came to buy it.  As I recall, it was one of those times when I simply looked at the titles on the book stacks in the store and there it was.  At that time, I was volunteering time at the Orange County CoDa office in Tustin, answering phones, mailing out meeting location lists, that sort of thing.  So I took this book along with me and read as time allowed.  I also read after completing my morning meditation time on the days I didn't need to leave the house in a hurry.  (Actually, I was living in a mobile home at the time and that's another story for another blog.)  The more I read, the more I came to feel the honesty, authenticity and truth of Patricia Lynn Reilly's words.  Amazing! 
When I finished the book, I decided I had to do something to let her know how much she had changed my life.  So I wrote to Patricia, in care of the publisher, and much to my surprise and beyond all expectation, I received a reply in a week or so.  As I remember it, I received her note on Thursday, telling me that she would be in Santa Monica the coming Saturday for a one-day retreat.  I called a couple of friends and of course, we attended.
I remember walking into the foyer of the building and there was this young, slight, attractive woman standing to one side and as we approached, she came forward and said "Hello!  I'm Patricia!"  How did so much wisdom get inside that woman's heart?  As the time unfolded, it became very clear to me, she had been touched at a soul level about the importance of women coming to know the Feminine God.  And, before the day was over, she announced that she was presenting a full week seminar in the Santa Cruz Mountains that coming summer.  The idea of being in her presence for a full week, in the midst of the redwoods, with women celebrating their divinity was like the best chocolate you ever tasted, only more so.
As I recall (am I over using that phrase today?) there were four of us from Orange County who flew to San Jose and then were picked up and driven to the Quaker Center near Ben Lomond.  Phyllis, Joanne, Cheryl and I.  In all, I believe there were 20 or so women in attendance, some from across the land and some local.  Patricia had been leading groups in the Bay Area for some time.  Oh, now I remember one truly remarkable event.  There were several of us sitting at a table after lunch the first or second day.  One woman seemed particularly familiar to me, as I did to her, so we started talking about places where perhaps we had met.  She mentioned among other things, belonging to a group that met in San Ramon.  I mentioned I had a nephew living there.  Lo and behold!  She went to the group John facilitated!  How about that?
There isn't enough time or space in this one post to tell you all of what took place in those days and nights.  We sang, we laughed, we cried, we painted on large sheets of paper attached to the out-buildings surrounding the lodge with acrylic paint and tongue depressers.  We stood in the midst of the redwoods, drums in hand, celebrating the mysterious, mystical, miraculous truth of women's lives laid bare and in full bloom. 
The final night, I was given the honor of leading the circle into our favorite spot among the redwoods, having previously been crowned "Crone of All Crones"!  I was deeply honored and it title was bestowed because I was the eldest one in attendance.  I do believe the woman who was next in line was quite disappointed that she wasn't so honored. To be so named for having accumulated 64 years of life experience was thrilling.  As you can imagine, our parting was bitter-sweet and we vowed to stay in touch with each other.  Some of us did, for a time.  I occasionally hear from Patricia still.  She was most instrumental in inspiring me to do the organizing of previous writings and to allow my pen to move across the paper with new words, new ideas.  I shall be grateful to her, for her, all the days of my life!
And so, my dear readers, I close with a prayer that this day will be the day where we all celebrate the wonder and glory of being born in a woman's body, living a woman's life, loving the earth, the sky, the trees, the winged ones, the four-legged ones, the finned ones, the creepy, crawly ones and each other!  (I can't close quite yet without telling you about the lizard I saw on my walk around my apartment complex yesterday afternoon.  She is rather small, probably no more than six or seven inches.  She froze as I stood there, complementing her on her beauty and then I looked carefully at her toes.  Have you ever done that?  I was amazed!  They seemed no bigger than perhaps two or three strands of hair.  They were spread out, ready either to stay or to run.  And they were beautiful!)
Until tomorrow - or until the next time, whenever that may be -
Thanks for it all! ! !

Re-reading old favorites

Good Saturday morning to you all!
One of the joys of my life is returning to my bookshelves and retrieving the connection to words previously read, finding therein more understanding, more depth, more . . . well . . . everything that I had loved about that particular book in the first place.
Recently I started re-reading "Women Who Run With The Wolves" by Clarissa Pincola Estes, Ph. D.  The book was given to me as a Christmas present from a co-worker, Donna, in 1992.  When I opened it the other day, I discovered I had kept the card that had accompanied the gift, signed "I love you, Donna".  She and I shared a lot of experiences together - working for a property management division of a major corporation near the Orange County Airport.  She was our receptionist and such a conscientious and dedicated one, too.  We became fast friends and took trips to Ashland, Oregon, to attend plays presented by the Oregon Shakespeare Company.  (My devotion to this place and this acting company will undoubtedly be the subject of many of my posts.)  We didn't see much of each other after her employment was terminated except that I did attend her wedding which was a joyous occasion to be sure.  We exchanged a few emails and, thank God, I did write to her to tell her of the impact on my life of her generous gift.
And so, back to the subject, this amazing book.  Shortly after I started reading it the first time, my employment was shockingly and unexpectedly ended, just two months shy of 16 years of employment.  So I had many hours to sit, read, and wonder at the wisdom found on it.  In fact, I was so taken by it that I wrote to several of my women friends, asking them to attend a book-reading group at my condo in Irvine.  Amazingly, that group continued in various sizes and shapes for about nine months.  Each time we got together, we found another nugget, another morsel and sometimes, a huge piece of our selves, our women's lives, that we had not noticed or acknowledged previously.  I have read it many times since although not for probably 3-4 years.  So it was with special delight that I opened to the first chapter and started soaking it all in again. 
For those of you familiar with the book, you will recall that one of the first stories is about Bluebeard, the demon of a man, who ultimately is killed by the brothers of the young woman whom he has enticed into his castle.  As far as I can remember, my earlier readings focused on the situations in my life that had much the same feel.  This time, as she emphasizes in no uncertain terms, I came face to face with the reality that there is this "demon" within me who would entice me in, urge me to ignore my intuition and then threaten me with death. 
How does this show up in my life today?  Most recently, my hesitation and yes, outright fear in attempting to set up and start this blog.  Previously, when, after arranging for the publication of a book of my writings, prose and poetry, ("From The Inside Out - Living Life As Women Do") I could not bring myself to take the next step to actively market it and so copies languish in a box in the trunk of my car.  Before that, many, many years ago, giving up on singing.  (I don't have a huge talent and I have a huge love of singing!) 
And so, dear readers, I come to this morning, this moment in time, more aware, seeing with clearer eyes and hearing with wide-open ears, whatever it is that my soul's journey, this Life, has to offer me today.  I intend to be as receptive as I can be.  That is my goal for this day.
I close with deep respect and reverence for our connection to each other - to all living things - and trust that your day, too, will bring you joy, growth, outloud laughter and love, love, love!
Thanks for it all!

Take time to double check your work, Carol!

Good morning to all!  I hope you are having or about to have, a marvelous Friday!
In reviewing my previous posts, I see a couple of things that need correction or at least acknowledgement.  My first post had a typo - "couldnt'" instead of "couldn't" - oops! ! ! and my second describing my family, mentioned a May birthday for Elijah and his birthday is in October!  I can remember teachers reminding me to "double check your work" when I was in grammar school.  Guess I'd better go back to those days, huh?

I spoke yesterday of the Life Review process a group of us at Common Ground are undertaking.  It amazes me that, after I think I am finished writing for the day, that my memory bank keeps on working.  All day long yesterday I found fresh memories arising, things that didn't come to mind the first time and, thank goodness for computers, I can go back and add in information and perhaps delete some as well.  I can remember, in the "olden days", how I used a typewriter eraser and in some cases, simply pulled the paper out and rolled in a new sheet and just started all over.  And when there were carbon copies required, what a chore that was!  Well, going back into my history is not entirely what I intended to do when I opened up this blog this morning.

Since I retired, Fridays don't carry the same weight that they used to.  And yet there are aspects of the last day of the working week that hang on.  I still look forward to the weekends as though they are so different from the rest of the days and when Monday rolls around, I frequently refer to it as the first day of the week.  Old habits of thought certainly have a way of sticking around, don't they? 

Words are not coming to me as easily this morning so I am going to close now and simply say "Thanks for it all!!!"

Another new day full of mystery and wonder!

So here we are again, dear readers, on a cool Thursday morning.  I hope this finds you well and centered in serenity.
I would like to explain the picture I have included in my profile.  It is a "four generation" picture with my younger daughter, Andra, her older son, Jerrett, and his son Eshiah held by me.  It was taken two years ago at my daughter's home in Cave Junction, Oregon.  Since then, I have held two more great-grandsons.  Andra's second son, Ian, sired a son, Elijah a year ago last May, and my granddaughter, Ryann, birthed Luke Anthony in June.  My, how love grows!
I am a member of a spiritual community "Common Ground" (http://www.embracehumanity.com/) in Tustin, California.  I am part of a group now who is addressing the idea of how would be live if we knew this would be our last year.  We meet twice a month and each time we do, it takes me a while to process all the emotions that have arisen from the sharing that has taken place.  We started out sharing our first seven years.  In a group of 17 people, with the time limitation, it has taken us from the 3rd week in July until last night, to finish.  So we will have to condense, a LOT, in order to complete the years and still have time left over for other subjects to be addressed, such as writing letters of appreciation, planning our memorial services, etc.  For me, this class has given the opportunity to understand, at a very dep level, how each time I look into someone's eyes, be it the clerk at the grocery store, a dear friend, a grandchild, that it is incumbent upon me to make sure I bring my full attention to the moment, to make it matter to me and, hopefully, to the other person as well.  I understand I cannot be responsible for how the other person receives the moment, and I can intend for it to be as deep as possible. 
I also want to introduce you to "Gray" my precious kitty who has shared the last nine years with me.  She is my companion, my confidante and just now, it sitting beside me, her ears perked up to the sound of my fingers on the keyboard.  Oh, how I love her!
And so, dear ones, off I go to the rest of my day, carrying with me your graciousness and merciful kindness.
Adieu!

Here's to it all!

Good afternoon, dear readers! I thought I had written you a message earlier today and somehow or other, it didn't take. I am new to this blogging technology so I guess I can give myself permission to experience a learning curve, steep or otherwise.
I do want to take a moment to acknowledge that, even though it is afternoon here in Southern California, you may be reading this in your evening time, in your night time, in your morning time. And even though fall is in the air in the Northern Hemisphere, it might also be that you are reading this as you are preparing for spring. However it is for you, I trust that all is well with you!
The focus of this blog will be acknowledging that not every moment is joy-filled; not every experience rises to a peak; not every relationship works as we had hoped; not every financial transaction results is monumental returns. And yet, through it all, if and as we are able to say "Thanks for it all!", we can learn from and gain wisdom through whatever experience comes our way. Granted, some times it may take weeks, months or even years before we can take that step back and say "Oh, now I get it. Now I see what I couldnt' see before; now my eyes are adjusted to a different light, the shadows enhance the depth of the scene. Thank you, Great Spirit (or whatever name you wish to use). Thanks for it all!
Until next time, may we all remember as often as our breaths move in and out, that we are connected to all living things. We are all in this together!