The Heart of the Matter

Making a Difference: An Ongoing Story, An Ongoing Art

2011-05-06T14:50:00.000-05:00

No one makes a difference

the way that YOU do,

because no one else has

the same tools that you do.

And no One conveys

what You can convey

expressing just what you do

in quite the same way

Because what YOU'VE got

not another quite has

not a one single lad, not a single lass'

And if YOU ever question

what YOU"VE got to share

just pull out a strand of your very own hair

And realize this:

-YOU are quite rare-

Your DNA can't be matched.

You were meant to be here.

And don't you dare question

Your importance

Your worth-

For you are woven into the Fabric of this spectacular Earth.

And each strand has a purpose

Each strand tells a part

of an ongoing story--

It's an ongoing Art.

And even if you still

Can't quite figure it out

You're in the hand of THE Artist

And He has no Doubt.

He's sculpting you yet

even now

as we wait

He's molding

and carving

he has yet to abate-

For He has created

this present that's YOU

and he's given no other

the same"Gift-Blend" as YOU

That's why No ONE can say the things that you say

and reach the same people in your God Given way.

No one can have the effect that you do

No one, that is,

EXCEPT Y-O-U.

SO Go out there brethren,

and Do what YOU do,

because someone is waiting

to Be affected by You.

Simple Pleasures and Unspoken Language

2011-01-09T16:33:00.000-06:00

I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens, but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls off a string.

~Anonymous

Today my teenage daughters and I went to the grocery store , and together we chose food for our family.

It made me very happy to do this together with them. When we returned home we put everything away, and cleaned out the refrigeratorand cabinets like a well oiled machine, each attending to our self assigned tasks.

I revel in this experience--in the fact that I am so very present in these moments.

For we are sharing the unspoken language of 'learning by doing.'

It happens without intention;

yet when we are present,

BONUS!

we become AWARE that it's happening.

At times, we take this unspoken language for granted.

This time, I have not.

This time I will remember.

For It is part of my purpose,

as Mother, as friend.

And I am grateful God has made me who I am.

(I believe this anonymous quote was one of the nicest and sweetest, most poetic and true, simple pleasures I've read. Thank you Mr. or Mrs. Anonymous. I'm awed time and time again by your wisdom. I hope one day we'll meet. And thanks for the Inspiration.

Because of your observation, and your willingness to share, I was inspired to write about it, too.)

Thank YOu

Angels and Good Samaritans: You and Me?

2010-05-21T23:55:00.006-05:00

Recently, I read a story about a Good Samaritan who, during the Christmas holiday, found an envelope with over seven hundred dollars in it, turned it in to the police, and received more fan fare than she ever imagined. The Local Newspaper interviewed her, and in the days that followed her mailbox had an equal tale to tell. Grateful townsfolk were eager to share their feelings about what she had done, sending her heart-felt letters and some even sent her cash. They appreciated the fact that she'd paid it forward. She wasn't even familiar with the expression, and was uncomfortable with all of the attention she received. When asked if there had been any temptation to keep the cash, she said that she couldn't have lived with herself had she kept it, although she had been considering the purchase of a new TV. Low and behold, another do-gooder responded by anonymously sending her a new HDTV.

Stories like these are becoming more commonplace. When times get trying, we begin to see ourselves as brethren and get to (as the Band U2 reminds us) "Carry Each other."

As in, It's a privilege.

I believe we're in the midst of a shift and its reminding us that

We're all brothers and sisters here.

We're doing unto others, as we'd have them do unto us. Sharing, giving and loving because it's in our very nature to do so. We're remembering that we're part of the Universal, and

We're unearthing our true nature.

And Nature always has a thing or two to teach us.

One winter evening, the temperature was well-below zero, and I was fumbling for my keys to open the car door. I had my two toddlers in the shopping cart. My hands felt nearly frost bitten in the short time it had taken me to get from the grocery store to my car, and I was flustered. Two Samaritans, arriving from different directions, one a man and one a woman, told me to get myself and the children in the car, and they'd load my groceries in. I didn't stop to think about whether their intentions were good, I just took their offer, getting my children hooked into their car seats. They closed the hatch of My SUV for me, having gotten my bags in the car, and then literally disappeared. l drove off, panicking, my hands now burning beneath my rabbit lined leather gloves. I never saw them again. They disappeared they same way they had arrived. They had seemingly come together to aid us in our need, and then were gone. It wasn't until I got home, and my hands recovered, that I surmised I'd been helped by Angels.

And Angels among us are becoming more and more common. They're called You and Me, and together, we're realizing that it's how we're meant to be.

Voice and Light: Pass It on...

2010-05-19T12:43:00.009-05:00

Let Your Voice Be Heard

Let Your Light Shine

The more you Share The More WE share

Sharing Invites connection

Reminds us We are connected

Like the cells of the body

The ONE body

We form the Whole.

But the Cells have to communicate with each other

in order for the BODY to function

As a Living Breathing Well-oiled Machine

We Honor then

Each other and the whole

when We honor our own Voice

When We shine our own Light

And there by We act and connect

And invite the other cells to do the same

And As Each is Ideally Functioning The Whole thrives

Each small light ignites in-turn another

One Small Light Can Change a Life

One Small light can Change a World

Ignite.

Simple Ways to Give Back to Mother Earth

2010-04-22T18:16:00.002-05:00

To me, Earth Day is all about simplicity, and ease and the obvious. You don't have to buy a tree to plant, or invest in more reusable bags to celebrate Earth Day. (I'm guilty of having so many reusable bags that when I donate to Good Will, I use them to carry my items in, and donate the bag too).

You can pick up the trash in your neighborhood or public park--lay down in the grass in your own back yard and breathe the air. You can challenge yourself to recycle a wider array of things than you already are. Hint...The box from your sticks of butter. The toilet paper roll. And one of my Favorites: the paper pouches from your morning oatmeal. A better bet still would be to buy things with less packaging all together--which are generally cheaper than individually packaged things. Remember the big Old Tub of Quaker Oats? They are just as good as they ever were. My Kids are teenagers now, but don't get me started on juice boxes...

Instead of using a coffee stir stick when you buy coffee away from home, (which of course you drink from your reusable tumbler), pour the milk in first, if you use it,and the sugar if need be, and then the coffee. You have now reduced your need for a stir stick. The action of pouring the coffee on top of the milk and sugar thoroughly mixes the coffee.

It's Easy and costs you less in the long run! Just use less. See what you can do with out. You would be surprised at the difference between want and need.

The distance is so great between these two foes, they can hardly see one another.

And there's always the If it's yellow, let it mellow rule.

So do your part in whatever simple costless way you choose. Mother Earth Wins

and so do you.

It's My Environment: Please Recycle. It's a Good Thing to Do.

2010-04-21T16:07:00.001-05:00

Yikes! Here's How I feel about Recycling:

It's a Good Thing to Do.

How Bout you?

Poetry, Prose and Professor's Woes

2010-04-20T20:09:00.006-05:00

I capitalize things left and right...and when I begin writing, everything is in nice paragraphs, and then it morphs into poetic form-- My own Poetic form. When I read about all of the different types of poetry and prose, and prose poetry, I find myself trying to categorize my writing and I don't want to do that, Because

It's a little like poetry

and a little like prose

It's a little like lyric

or like sand between your toes

It's a little ungrammatical

and sometimes yes, verbose

Sometimes hackneyed

sometimes stilted

(Those are professors woes.)

But it's mine

it's expression

it's the only way to go

it's imperfectly entertaining

(sometimes yes, sometimes no)

so I silence both the editor

and the critic

and let free

the wild Child that Exists

inside of you, inside of me.

Variant Capitalization (It's in the DSMIV, right beside Spontaneous Breaking into Song)

Donate Blood: It's a Positive Experience

2010-04-18T14:16:00.009-05:00

As the daughter of a man who has given close to 8 gallons (yes, Gallons) of blood over the course of his life, I've become a believer myself in the value and importance of donating blood.

For some reason, I used to go along with my dad to donate blood. He did so every 56 days at the City Hall, or wherever the local blood drive happened to be. I'm not sure whether he asked me to come along to encourage me to one day do the same, or If I went with him because I was just bored. In any case, when the time came for me to make my own decision, (as a senior in High school, at the High School Blood drive,) I decided to give. I've given about 12 pints now, to date. I've been turned down a few times because my iron was too low, or because I've traveled to places where there was a Malaria Risk. I'm disappointed when I get turned down. I think My Dad was too. He's been permanently turned down now because these days, he's chronically anemic. Giving Blood is how he found out he was anemic.

My youngest child Avery was anemic once too. Life threateningly anemic. But we didn't know it until one day, when we were on a cruise ship in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico. We woke up that morning and were eager to go to breakfast. Our kids, in the room across the hall from us weren't ready to go. But Avery had gotten up and said she'd meet us upstairs at the restaurant.

We went to get our coffee, as we had become accustomed to doing, and had just sat down at one of the tables along the window, when our friend Cam who we'd been traveling with, came to us, telling us that Avery had collapsed. By the time we got to her side, a medic had already arrived, and had gotten her into a wheel chair. A waiter had seen her collapse, and had gone to her side, alerting the medical center five floors below to come to her aid. Our friend Cam had been nearby, and observing the commotion, had come near, only to realize it was Avery, a child he had known since her birth.

The Nurse, whom we soon came to know as Constantine, asked her some questions:

How long had it been since she'd last eaten?

Had she had many fluids yesterday?

Had she been feeling well?

When had she started to feel not so well?

Avery's Complexion was a combination of green and gray. She was staring blankly, but responding to Constantine's questions. She told him that she had fallen down twice on her way upstairs to the dining hall, after she had gotten off the elevator.

He told us that he suspected that she was either dehydrated or that her blood sugar was low, but that he wanted to do some blood work, and get her a bag of fluids. Once she got some fluids in her she began to feel better, but the blood work began to tell another story. Her hemoglobin, the iron containing and oxygen transporting portion of the blood, was found to be exceedingly low. So low in fact, they retested her again and again to be sure. Gina, the doctor, is from Columbia. She asks us if Avery is anemic. My response was "No. Not that I know of." She asked if any of her check ups have ever revealed low hemoglobin before. As far as I knew, she'd never been tested for that.

Avery had a hemoglobin, at it's lowest point, there on the ship of 4.5. Healthy Hemoglobin levels should be any where from 12-18. Red blood cells contain iron-rich oxygen delivering hemoglobin. Red Blood cells are the most numerous of any in the body.Having a hemoglobin level that low meant that her body was being deprived of oxygen. It also meant that she needed a transfusion. And we were in the middle of the gulf of Mexico. A Cruise ship medical facility is not equipped to provide a blood transfusion. Dr. Gina relays to us that Avery's condition is serious. She is baffled as to why a perfectly healthy 14 year old girl would fall so ill so quickly. She asks is she can sample her siblings blood to see if there is some familial tendency toward lower than normal hemoglobin. Still, a hemoglobin that at first check was 5, and that is now 4.5, needs to be addressed as soon as possible.

She checks Terrence and Lindsey's blood. They are both within normal range. She asks whether there are any blood disorders in the family. I know of a niece and a nephew who had suspected cases. Gina asks if we know Avery's blood type. We do not.

I know that my blood type is B+ because My blood donor card says so.

My Husband is unsure of his type, but thinks he is A. Our son Terrence has donated blood for the first time at his School Blood drive and knows his blood type is A+. We do not know Lindsey's blood type.

Dr. Gina Tells us that Avery will need to be life flighted by the Coast Guard to a Hospital within range. It may be New Orleans, It may Be Houston. She is unsure as to whether one of us will be allowed to accompany her. She asks me how much I weigh. Weight will be a factor. We have taken a helicopter ride before as a family--over the Grand Canyon. They arranged us in the seats according to our weight. Lindsey, our 16 year old offers to go if weight is an issue. She weighs less than I. In the mean time, Gina makes us sign a Waiver to allow for Avery's treatment in our absence. She tells us that the Coast Guard is the decision maker.

They continue taking samples of Avery's blood every 15 minutes. They check her stool, they check her urine. They wonder if she is having any internal bleeding. They ask her when her last Period was Avery relates that it was that morning. They ask about her cycles. How often do they occur? How many days long? How heavy? It is hard to know whether these will be factors.

We ask, Why might she have gotten so anemic so quickly? They do not have an answer for us. There may be internal bleeding of some sort, she may have a bleeding disorder which until now has gone unrealized. It is many hours since the Coast Guard was called. The Helicopter only carries enough fuel to travel 200 miles. We are 250 miles from land.The Ship's Captain speeds up to shorten the distance the helicopter must travel.

Gina has the nurses, also from Romania, send for nail polish remover to remove the nail polish from Avery's toe nails. They need to check the blood flow to her extremities. They repeatedly press on her toenails to see how quickly the blood returns to her toes. We are all in shock. It is two hours before the helicopter arrives. I have prepared myself as if I am accompanying her. I've packed a bag. We must bring our passports as a US customs agent will be there to greet us as soon as we arrive at the hospital.

We all ride up on the elevator together. Our whole family is surrounding Avery on her stretcher. We are reassuring her, although tension is building. She has been brave thus far. They have stuck her so many times with a needle, we've lost count. As we get to the deck with the helipad, we see the Helicopter land. Passengers are lining every deck. We are awaiting the Coast Guard Personnel. Avery's fear and concern come to the surface. She begins to cry. The nurses and Doctor haven't been able to hide their concern. The heaviness is thick in the air. A Ship personnel has greeted the Coast Guard on the Deck and has turned around to come inside.

When the Ship's personnel opens the door, there seems to be a drawn out pause. He says, "One guardian." We breathe a Collective sigh. Constantine, the nurse who originally came to Avery's aid, will be coming with us. I say goodbye to My husband Terry and my kids, and the large man who delivered the good news wraps his arm around me, shielding me from the overwhelming wind of the helicopter blades, and we follow Avery and our Coast Guard Heros onto the helicopter. I don't think I've ever felt such relief or gratitude. They show me where to sit. I gather myself into a tight ball on the floor so that I take up the least amount of room--so that I'm not in the way. They tell me that our flight to Houston's Herman Memorial Children's Hospital will be two hours, but that we will be stopping for fuel in about twenty minutes. Stopping for fuel? in the Middle of the ocean, we stopped for fuel on a platform. I never knew such a fueling station existed.

As we fly, the medics and Constantine are continually monitoring Avery's blood pressure, heart rate and vital signs. At times the readings appear in very serious range although Avery looks OK. They surmise that the finger pulse reading device must be misreading, but when they use it on me, it seems to be working fine.

When we finally land in Houston, it is dark. It is now 6 PM. The US Customs agent greets us, and they take us to a room. Constantine accompanies us and remains with us until Avery is assigned to a room some two hours later. She is stable now, and actually sits up in the emergency room. I try to reach Terry and the kids to touch base with them. It's a good two hours before Avery is given her transfusion. Her blood type is AB+, the Universal Recipient. She can receive blood of any type. I think to myself, that anyone of us in our family could give blood to Avery. This is a relief to me.

One of the Doctors suggests that they may have to do a bone marrow test. Red blood cells are manufactured in the bones. There could be a problem with the manufacture of these cells, or of the platelets, which allow the blood to clot. He mentions von Willebrand's Disease, and Thalassemia. Not knowing anything about any of these disorders, or their prognosis, I am worried.

The transfusion is given very slowly. It will take a few hours. She is given O+ blood. After she receives the transfusion--two units, that is, two pints-- of blood, we wait for her hemoglobin to rise, and to see that she stabilizes--that her hemoglobin remains up. They tell us that they'd like to see her hemoglobin at 8. She gets to 7.5. They continue doing more tests. In the meantime, My Family finally arrives, after a delayed ship arrival due to fog. They are 5 hours late upon return. Then next day, they allow Avery to leave the hospital, to follow up with her Pediatrician at home.

She is given a prescription for iron supplements, to rebuild the iron stores in her body and to raise the hemoglobin level. After we get home, her pediatrician instructs us to pay very close attention to her menstrual cycles. How often are they occurring, how long are they lasting? We check her stool for two months to make sure there is no subtle bleeding in the gastrointestinal tract. She continued to take the Iron supplements and her hemoglobin level slowly rises, however we soon come to realize that her Menstrual Cycles are the culprit. The Gynecologist puts her on the pill to supply the needed hormones to control her bleeding, and her Hemoglobin levels continue to rise. Apparently, over the course of many months time, Avery was becoming more and more anemic--her blood deprived of the iron rich blood cells that

carry oxygen to all of the body's tissues. Anemia can be caused by either excessive destruction of Red Blood Cells, excessive blood loss, or inadequate production of Red Blood Cells.

How lucky she was to be airlifted to the Hospital and receive that transfusion. How lucky she was that two individuals, who will remain unknown to us, felt inclined to donate blood. Every Day, countless individuals donate blood to the American Red Cross, and every day, countless individuals like Avery receive that life giving blood. It was a full year before I could donate blood again after that Cruise to Mexico, because of the Malaria Risk. But as soon as that year was up, I happily donated my B positive blood again, this time with an even greater dedication. The last time I was eligible to donate, I took my now 17 year old daughter Lindsey with me, also B positive and she donated for the first time. Yesterday, she signed up for her High School's Blood Drive. When Avery is old enough, as long as her hemoglobin remains stable, which it has now for over a year, I'll encourage her to also. I'm positive she will. AB positive.

http://www.redcrossblood.org/

Love is Stronger than Fear

2010-04-17T15:53:00.013-05:00

In the Inner Harbor of Baltimore,

My Daughter and I recently encountered, as we have in the past, a Homeless man, who was hunkered down for the night under a few sleeping bags with his book, and all of his belongings. We were walking home from dinner; our dinner at the restaurant, which often has a two hour wait.

After a long day of touring colleges, we had been so hungry that we ordered an appetizer and a meal. The appetizer was enormous, and ravenous as we were, we ate it hungrily. There was still some to spare. When our meals arrived, we picked at them, out of obligation, but decided to take the whole portions home, although we were staying in a hotel, and leaving early the next morning, and likely wouldn't have even eaten them.

As we passed the man, he made some gesture to us, to alert us he was there. We kept walking, but then looked at each other and said,

"Should we give him our left overs?"

We decided we would. We walked towards him, and asked,

"Are You hungry?"

He replied,

"I never turn down food."

He thanked us,

as a neighbor might do when you loan him your ladder.

I told him what was in the bag and how good the food was.

I said I hoped he enjoyed it, and we moved on.

We felt good.

As we left, a local woman walked by,

and acknowledged the homeless man.

She called him James.

I Am Your Personal Cheerleader

2010-04-16T12:36:00.003-05:00

I am Your Personal Cheerleader

I am your personal Cheerleader because

I believe in You.

I am Your Personal Cheerleader Because

I see the Real You

I am Your personal Cheerleader

Because I know Who You are

I am Your Personal Cheerleader Because

You have your Own Gifts

I am Your Personal Cheerleader Because

the World needs those Gifts

I am Your Personal Cheerleader Because I know how You Feel

And to feel isn't wrong

To Feel is to be real

I am Your Personal Cheerleader Because I Can see Your Point of View

I am your Personal Cheerleader

Because The World Needs More of You

I am Your Personal Cheerleader because You have something to share

I am your personal Cheerleader

because The World's Better with you there

I am your Personal Cheerleader because There's nothing that you lack

I'm just here to remind you

Give Your All

and Don't Hold Back

Grist For the Mill

2010-04-15T12:46:00.011-05:00

As a writer sometimes I'm hard on myself.

Because I'm not keeping a regular schedule writing.

I'm not writing enough.

I'm tempted to take the advice of Writing journals.

Journals that insist we must write on a schedule-

that we give less credence to our own soul's suggestion.

But I've found that my writing soul is soothed best when I listen to it;

writing when I feel most moved to write.

When I'm inspired.

When I'm full to the brim and have something to say.

Of course, I'm not paying any Bills with my writing.

But there'll never be a shortage of things to say.

Our pace may slow down at times, but we never really stop creating.

But I do give myself credit when I comment on blogs or articles.

I may have existing writing projects that are in limbo.

But often

a blog post or essay I've read

has ignited a spark in me--

and I end up writing,

at that moment,

about something that has lain dormant

-something I was avoiding acknowledging-

until it was brought to the forefront of my attention

and the scales were tipped.

I also give myself credit for parking at the far side of the parking lot.

I give myself credit for taking the steps instead of the elevator.

I once vowed on a cruise (as our rooms were on the eleventh floor)

that I would not take the elevator for the whole voyage.

I surmised that taking the stairs everywhere

would keep my heart rate up throughout the day,

without having to formally exercise.

But I had to break my vow.

I did ride the elevator once

with my daughter on a stretcher

and she and I were airlifted off the ship

in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.

to a Children's Hospital in Houston.

It's One Year later, and She's Perfectly Well Now.

That's one of My stalled writing projects.

I think we are creating every moment.

Creating Family nourishment when we make dinner

although it may be hurried

and simple.

We create security when we do the laundry

and fold it

and have it ready for the next day.

We create goodwill when we sit with our pets

and smile

and quietly contemplate.

Grist for our mills; the every day.

For we are always milling

the grain that will

be food for our souls

Our own personal souls

and the souls of those for whom we care.

The ONE soul.

There are days I feel an undeniable urge

an urge to relate

an urge to create

and to record it all--

I Remember those Days.

There are days when I am a receptacle,

And Days when I am a Writer.

And that's OK With Me.

Look at that

I wrote an unexpected Blog post today.

Today's Post was Inspired by 2 Posts in the Blogosphere:

What is Poetry?

and

1930 words--and the unexpected inevitability of fall

For Long Lost Bloggers: We Miss You

2010-03-21T17:18:00.008-05:00

Come Back, Please!

The Blogosphere has an empty spot

since you've been gone

and it's all off- kilter!

It's missing your song

It's missing a melody

That clearly belongs

It's missing your piece

It's missing your song

It's missing a part

Only you-so can share

Come back! Come back!

Come back, if you dare!

We need You

We need you, it's true

Your return to us here

is long over due

So write all your papers

And take all your tests

One foot, then the other

This method is best

And we'll wait

If we must

We'll wait here for you

Reading lots of good blogs

Not minus yours, but in lieu

So when you return

All recharged and renewed

You'll be full of more inklings

For us, here to view.

Godspeed ;)

Hey Folks, Go Check her Etsy Store!

2010-03-06T16:28:00.004-06:00

It’s Uplifting

and Light-hearted

Whimsical and Fun

And I’m sure I’m not the only one

Who thinks your work is really great

And thinks that you should celebrate

your taste and charm–

outlook boheme

the stuff of psychedelic dreams

Your Prints and Schemes just make me smile

and I’ve enjoyed

this time I’ve whiled

here on your site

with style galore

Hey Folks, Go Check Her Etsy Store!

Etsy: Your place to buy & sell all things handmade

This Poem of Appreciation was inspired by the Work of a wonderful Artist, Stephanie Corfee,

Also Check out

http://www.handmadeinpa.net/

Loneliness and Exhaustion, Patience and Perseverence

2010-03-04T08:58:00.023-06:00

Photo from Katie's Website:Row for Water)

If you ever wondered what true exhaustion feels like, or claustrophobia, or utter loneliness for human companionship, Katie Spotz can enlighten you. And if you wonder whether these things can indeed be overcome, then this young endurance athlete can answer that too. Among many other feats to her credit, she's rowing across the Atlantic Ocean. Alone.

As Endurance, is her strong suit, she's run 150 miles across the Mojave Desert

and Biked 3,300 across the US (Averaging 85 miles per day).

Not to mention an impressive swim-the full 325 mile length of the Allegheny River.

Then there was the Half-Iron Man,

and that 62 Mile Marathon too.

But this time, she's rowing the Atlantic Ocean-

A 2,500 mile row from Dakar, in Senegal to Cayenne French Guiana, and

P.S.

she's only 22 years old.

She's also responsible for inspiring and enthralling many of us land-lubbing coach potatoes along the way and raising awareness, for let's not forget, Her Cause: Water.

That is, Clean, viable drinking water.

Water is very likely, the number one thing we, in developed parts of the world, all take for granted. But the Truth is, 1 in 6 of us on God's green and mostly blue Earth, don't have access to this most basic of human necessities. This should, at the very least, make us think twice about leaving the water running when brushing our teeth.

Katie's quest to raise awareness for Water issues in the developing world, is no question being realized as she rows across the Atlantic, solo. Aside from raising awareness, another important goal was to raise $30,000. But that's long been been surpassed.Her efforts have amounted now to well over $50,000 and growing. But this will only cover a small portion of our fellow men, women and children who live, on a daily basis without the access to clean, safe drinking and bathing water.

Check out her website Row for Water and watch her progress which is being charted by GPS. See her location in real time, cheer her on by leaving a note of encouragement, and by all means donate what you can. For $30 you can offer someone a lifetime of safe drinking Water, as we in the comfort of the developed world recognize how good we have it, when we turn on the faucet every morning to wash our face and brush out teeth.

Katie has teamed up with

www.blueplanetrun.org a non-profit organization which, since 2002 has been funding and providing safe drinking water projects in over 18 countries of the world.

But what must it be like to row, for 10 hours a day, rain or shine, with only music and audio books to entertain? I think I can safely say, it could be one of the ultimate tests. What about rain, what about storms, what about the possibility of capsizing? What about the power of the human mind to lead you into terrible, terrible territory? Katie relates that the boat is "self righting" and capable of taking on 30 ft. waves, and Hurricanes. Says Katie,

"Fears are a heavy burden that I am too lazy to carry around! Although my fears are not my source of motivation, my greatest fear would be to let my fears make my decisions for me and not row across the Atlantic Ocean. I tend to be more excited than fearful about facing the unknown."

And there is of course, lots of unknown. Around 5PM on her daily schedule, if need be, she jumps overboard (yes,overboard) to scrub down the bottom of the boat. Maybe, We, much like Katie's highly advanced boat, would also find ourselves to be "self-righting" when taken to the extremes of our design.

But should something go wrong that would require immediate attention, the boat is equipped with an EPIRB, an Emergency Position Indicating Radio Beacon, which would essentially contact the Coast Guard for Rescue when activated.

Surviving on dehydrated foods, and energy bars, and only so much fresh fruit and vegetables, one could easily feel deprived. But only for a while. After a while, I presume, things like a warm soft bed that isn't moving, a hot shower, and the embrace of family and friends, would be tops on your list list of important. But she has been blessed with company. Birds and fish and Dolphins. And oh, how welcome they must be, when all she's seen for over two months time, is sea and sky. There have been occasional freighters in the distance, and a sailboat within radio distance, but attempts to communicate with them were to no avail. There have been interviews, too. Over her Satellite phone. And blog posts and tweets. These creature comforts, are comforting to us, from home, who, if we have at least a stitch of empathy in our bones, are beside ourselves with curiosity, wonder, fear and awe. But it must only be a pittance in relation to what Katie has known, out there in the endless blue of the day, and the endless black of night.

With Solar panels fueling her desalination unit, which accounts for the majority of her energy needs, she's equipped with fresh water for her drinking and bathing. They also power her jet boil stove which she uses to cook her dehydrated food, and her electronics and cell phone, and GPS.

One of the interviewers asked her what she'd learned thus far, half way into her odyssey.

She said:

*the difference between “need” and “want”

*How little we actually need

and

*Patience.

When asked about Perseverance, Katie, responded:

"I have had my moments. Around day 30 I was feeling particularly down but, looking back, I’m not really sure what it was about. I was experiencing exhaustion due to poor sleep and it must have played with the emotions. Pushing through is the easy part. There is nowhere else to go or nothing else to do but face it. Accept it, experience it, grow from it. And keep rowing."

Such, in Fact, is Life.

The Light

2010-02-21T14:28:00.010-06:00

Peering into the box

She saw the moment of her birth

And as she gazed upon the light in the box

she knew all at once

She saw light

And More Light

She saw bare feet

and gone-to-seed dandelions

a pre-pubescent pony-tailed tree-climbing tomboy

blowing dandelion seeds into the air

spreading dandelion cheer

She saw stray cats giving birth

under the Oak tree in her back yard,

a cardboard-box bed lined with towels

She saw groundhog holes

and forts made with abandoned wood

tents and and flashlights and fireflies

She saw moonlight-midnight kickball games

She saw years

and books

and sketches of horses

She saw calligraphy sets and collages

and the Guinness Book of World Records

She saw the Loch-Ness Monster and Big Foot

She saw Moccasins

and Earth Shoes

peace signs and turquoise

Boyfriends

and Bare Feet

She heard Cat Stevens

and Springsteen

The Grateful Dead and Dylan

She felt the comfort of an oversized sweater

And arms surrounding her

She saw Communication Text Books

and Essays

and Poems

and Bare feet

She saw the pearl-puckered sleeves

of an ivory wedding dress

and a mischievous Dalmatian puppy

She saw baby booties, and breast feeding

Dr. Seuss and Sesame Street

car seats in station wagons and SUV's

She saw broken bones

and broken little hearts

She saw tears

Many tears

She saw tricycles and bicycles,

skates and Lacrosse sticks.

She saw a 16 year-old Dalmatian

on his side on the floor

She saw tears

She saw Diplomas

And Cars

And She saw more tears

And then she saw trees again

and trails

books and collages

Hiking Boots

and Bare feet

She saw hunting dogs and streams

blogs and Writing Conferences

books and more books

an Apple lap-top

and contests

She saw light

Lots and lots of light

And she was back home

at the moment of her birth

Barefoot and Free

Full of possibility

And Being

What all along

She had been

and was meant

To Be

Wallflowers, and Tiggers and Candidates for Living

2010-02-07T23:09:00.016-06:00

Every Teenager is a candidate for Living but not every teenager takes part. What separates the participants from the wallflowers?

To answer the question, you may look to norms. You may look to your own teenagers, You may look to your pediatrician. But to really answer it, You must look to you.

Are You a Candidate for Living? or are you a Wallflower?

Yesterday, I had the great pleasure of going to Disney World for the day.Walt Disney World does an awfully good job at an awful lot of things. But what it does best, I think, is bring out the kid in us all. The goofy kid, The enthusiastic kid, the playful kid, the adventurous kid. And if you’re willing, the uninhibited, free spirited kid. I saw quite a few during the afternoon parade. The song and the scene that struck me most, was “Shake it”. Lots of Disney Characters took part, dancing alongside the float, some of them agilely on stilts even!

That was inspiring for sure, but what I was most inspired by, was a very special young man. He had Downs Syndrome. But You know what? As I watched him,dancing with with abandon, I was smiling from silver hoop earring, to silver hoop earring. What was clear, at first glance was his sense of joy. It made me happy just to observe him, experiencing such core-level joy. It made me cry, first from happiness, but also from a little sadness, at my own inhibition. It made me wonder, where, along the way I had picked it up, and decided to carry it along, to my detriment. What great fun it would be to wear a costume, dance and engage the way I'd really want to, if I wasn't carrying all of this baggage around.

You can't Dance and Sing and Bounce like Tigger
if you're carrying baggage around.
Tiggers have an awful lot of bouncing to do,
and Baggage keeps them from getting
to the heights they'd like to.

I guess we pick up inhibition when we pick up fear of disapproval, and fear of wondering how we’ll look to others. Sadly, we pick up self judgement along the way.

As I watched this young man, who some might pity, I saw a complete lack of inhibition, and a complete state of oneness–with the music, and indeed, with those of us around him, who, by our engaging in his joy, were incrementally creeping into our own joy,and out of our long overdue shells.

We are all candidates for living, but we’re not all taking part.

If we want our teenagers to take part, then we have to take part ourselves, casting aside our own inhibitions, looking at what’s kept us from engaging with our own joy. We absolutely need to model it ourselves, but also to encourage and support it, in the lives of our teenagers. Because it’s a great big world out there, chock full of opportunities, just bursting with Joy.

Wall flowers rarely get to see the sun.
And that's where all of the Disney Parades take place.
Come out and Shake it!
Just try it and see,
You may find,if you do,
It’s the Only way
to really Be.

Reflecting on Canines

2010-01-30T11:46:00.004-06:00

We enjoyed it as much

as our Canines, indeed

And I think

that as always

we should follow their lead

Cuz they're Joyous

and energetic

and grateful and true

And they remind us

of the potential

of our depth and our hue.

Hue is one of the main properties of a color, defined technically, as “the degree to which a stimulus can be described as similar to or different from stimuli that are described as red, green,or blue.

see:Colour Notes pt.1

Ode to a Child

2010-01-13T17:14:00.008-06:00

You were born to Discover

You were born to Create

You were born to feel Inspired

You weren't born to Imitate

I'm inclined to Encourage

I'm inclined to Support

All your inklings

All your Dreamings

Of each and every Sort

So Please Don't Misinterpret

My enthusiasm for

The Unlimited Potential

of your future that's In store

Just Do it.

2010-01-12T23:02:00.004-06:00

Inspired by a Young Soul's Blog I came upon:

Self Expression Rocks!

So say it with gusto

say it with flair

let the world know

who's been resting in there

let your life speak

through the keyboard or pen

then start fresh tomorrow,

and do it again.

write on --

it's right on!

and express yourself true

put your heart and your soul in whatever you do

for the words that you choose

will represent who

that girl is-- deep down

deep inside of you

and stand up real tall

with your shoulders back

the answers are inside You.

There is nothing you lack

Check out what this young Blogger has to say:

Dead Puppies

Poems from the Past

2010-01-04T11:45:00.019-06:00

“Poetry and Hums aren't things which you get, they're things which get you. And all you can do is go where they can find you.”
- Winnie the Pooh

These Poems were written when I was in college, round about my junior year. I began college as a news writing major, but became disillusioned by the straight forwardness of the news. After a multitude of Psychology, Sociology, Anthropology, Humanities, Comparative Arts, Poetry and Creative Writing courses, I shifted into the College of Communication, with an emphasis on Interpersonal Communication in the Health and Human Services.

Did you know that Communication is a Science?

With all of these wonderful Humanities and Liberal Arts classes

now percolating deep with in my core,

I had lots to wrap my curious mind around, and

My creative writing courses became the the highlight, and the challenge of my college career.

But, I still didn't have a make-a-living career in mind.

Or did I?

When I graduated, I worked in the Loss Prevention department for Saks Fifth Avenue, doing book keeping clerical work. Next, I sold radio Advertising for a classic rock radio station. The Perks were great, but I was no salesman.

Thankfully, my first child was born that year, and two more to follow,

granting me

the vocation of a lifetime:

Motherhood.

Parenting is the toughest job you'll ever love.

As they became older, and my time became more mine, I decided on a part time career as a massage therapist, going back to school for a year, with the intentions of Working my own schedule, when the kids were at school or on weekends. Somewhere in the mix, with 18 or so more years of Life experience under my belt, and a therapeutic need to gush, I began writing again.

Aha!!!!

I am a writer.

I always have been.

Ever since that first teacher told my parents I had a gift for writing.

Here are some early iterations.

I'm glad I found them now.

For NOW is always a good time to revisit who we really are,

and to let it be known with abandon.

I'd like to think I've grown as a writer since then,

but when I read what I wrote over 20 years ago,

I can still see the me, I see today.

Today is the day I remember the essence of who I am.

Today is the day I live the life I once imagined.

How about You?

Somehow, My picture ended up in the School Handbook. I never remember wearing a skirt in College, But, here is proof!

Click on each poem individually to get a larger view ;)

Some of My Best Friends are Labs

2009-12-15T12:13:00.003-06:00

"I Never Met a Lab I didn't Like."

-Spencer Ives,Family Dog Extraordinaire

My Name is Spencer

I am a Vizsla.

But some of my best friends are Labs.

(Labrador Retrievers, that is.)

They're a different breed than I am.

Just look at us--

You'll see.

But we're more alike than different--

On that we both agree.

We both adore to wrestle

We love to fetch a stick!

We love to love our families.

We love to learn new tricks!

Each Lab's an individual.

Each Lab's a unique dude.

Each has a special love to give

Just like Vizslas,

And like YOU!

Some Labradors are shiny black

And some are sunshine yellow-

They even come in chocolate- brown

Some are frisky,

Some are mellow.

In fact, I never met a Labrador I didn't like.

I look for them each time I hike.

Dedicated to Spencer, Who really knew how to "Spread the Love Around", and of course to all of the Labs He knew………. "I Never Met a Lab I didn't Like." -Spencer Ives, Family Dog Extraordinaire My Name is Spencer. I am a Vizsla. But some of my best friends are Labs. (Labrador Retrievers, that is.) They're a different breed than I am. Just look at us-- You'll see. But we're more alike than different-- On that we both agree. We both adore to wrestle We love to fetch a stick! We love to love our families. We love to learn new tricks! Each Lab's an individual. Each Lab's a unique dude! Each has a special love to give Just like Vizslas, And like YOU! Some Labradors are shiny black And some are sunshine yellow- They even come in chocolate- brown Some are frisky, Some are mellow. In fact, I never met a Labrador I didn't like. I look for them each time I hike. When I get home, I look no more-- Since Chloe and Charlie live right next door. And Yellow Labradors are such fun, They run and run, and run, and run. Charlie digs out from his fence And comes to visit me. He looks both ways when crossing He's as careful as can be. And then we're off to having fun I'm teaching him to be A dog who likes to point and chase All of the birds He sees. I wag goodbye to Charlie When I go "Down the shore." That's where I've got My good friend Jake. We swim and run some more. Now Jakie looks like chocolate And He smells just as sweet. I tell you this a nicer Lab You'll never, ever meet. Jakie's got experience, so He's teaching ME to be A Vizsla to be proud of-- I hope that's clear to see. And when it snows, I go to Vermont Out there it's really cold So Mom puts on my special coat- It's red and green and gold. We visit the Farm at Cobble Hill. Aunt Peggy welcomes us there. That's where her good Friend Theo Introduced me to a mare! In the barn and on the fields He taught me to behave I'm sad when it comes time to go I wish that I could stay. But then I'd never get to see The other Labs I know. I'd miss our Sunday visits To the dog park where we go. The black ones Yellow ones And the brown ones All would miss me so. And during the week I'd really miss My trots along the trail, Where Mom and I We like to hike Up over hill and dale. And at the end There is a place Where Labradors convene, To chase a ball and And dive spread-eagle Right into the stream. Now I can't swim as well as them, But when I'm done I'm beat. Mom towels me off, And I jump straight Into the car's front seat. When we get home I know that soon My family will show-- By bus and car I can't stand still, They know I love them so. Then they arrive! I wag and wag! A "Vizsla Dance" I do! I love to play with Labradors But I love people too. They throw me balls They give me rubs They feed and water me. They help me to meet Labradors I'm Grateful as can be. And when at times they're feeling blue I make sure that I'm near I'll nuzzle close And snuggle in And lick away each tear. This makes them feel much better. It makes me feel good too. It makes their hearts all warm inside And that's the doggone truth! We're blessed to have each other. And we acknowledge this. There's not a day that passes Without a Vizsla Kiss! And when the dog day's ended, I'll curl up by some feet, And dream about The Labs I'll meet When I walk down the street.

When I get home,

I look no more--

Since Chloe and Charlie live right next door.

And Yellow Labradors are such fun,

They run and run, and run, and run.

Charlie digs out from his fence

And comes to visit me.

He looks both ways when crossing

He's as careful as can be.

And then we're off to having fun

I'm teaching him to be

A dog who likes to point and chase

All of the birds He sees.

I wag goodbye to Charlie

When I go "Down the shore."

That's where I've got

My good friend Jake.

We swim and run some more.

Now Jakie looks like chocolate

And He smells just as sweet.

I tell you this a nicer Lab

You'll never, ever meet.

Jakie's got experience, so

He's teaching ME to be

A Vizsla to be proud of--

I hope that's clear to see.

And when it snows, I go to Vermont

Out there it's really cold

So Mom puts on my special coat-

It's red and green and gold.

We visit the Farm at Cobble Hill.

Aunt Peggy welcomes us there.

That's where her good Friend Theo

Introduced me to a mare!

In the barn and on the fields

He taught me to behave

I'm sad when it comes time to go

I wish that I could stay.

But then I'd never get to see

The other Labs I know.

I'd miss our Sunday visits

To the dog park where we go.

The black ones

Yellow ones

And the brown ones

All would miss me so.

And during the week I'd really miss

My trots along the trail,

Where Mom and I

We like to hike

Up over hill and dale.

And at the end

There is a place

Where Labradors convene,

To chase a ball and

And dive spread-eagle

Right into the stream.

Now I can't swim as well as them,

But when I'm done

I'm beat.

Mom towels me off,

And I jump straight

Into the car's front seat.

When we get home

I know that soon

My family will show--

By bus and car

I can't stand still,

They know I love them so.

Then they arrive!

I wag and wag!

A "Vizsla Dance" I do!

I love to play with Labradors

But I love people too.

They throw me balls

They give me rubs

They feed and water me.

They help me to meet Labradors

I'm Grateful as can be.

And when at times they're feeling blue

I make sure that I'm near

I'll nuzzle close

And snuggle in

And lick away each tear.

This makes them feel much better.

It makes me feel good too.

It makes their hearts all warm inside

And that's the doggone truth!

We're blessed to have each other.

And we acknowledge this.

There's not a day that passes

Without a Vizsla Kiss!

And when the dog day's ended,

I'll curl up by some feet,

And dream about

The Labs I'll meet

When I walk down the street.

Dedicated to Spencer, Who really knew how to "Spread the Love Around", and of course to all of the Labs He knew……….

DIRT+SEEDS= HARVEST UNTOLD

2009-07-21T23:45:00.009-05:00

I love driving through unfamiliar territory.

There are always lots of interesting things to see, and on the radio, to hear. Recently I heard a particularly thought-provoking comentary.

The DJ was recounting the joys her garden was producing;

crisp and stalk-y broccoli,

an abundant crop, of strangely beautiful, asymmetrical steak-y tomatoes,

a plethora of peas enveloped in pods, bearing curling tendrils reminiscent of Jack's Beanstalk. And she was taking great care in sharing the bounty with her "people" and especially the youngest of her "people",

teaching them how to harvest,

their arms overflowing cornucopias.

Together then, they reverently place them in baskets and bags,

marveling at what delicious, and varied fruits and vegetables God can create,

as she put it,

from Dirt, alone.

What comes to mind for me at that moment, as I drive serenely along, with that Norman Rockwell-like image in mind, is the first day of the Lenten Season, Ash Wednesday; When the priest makes the sign of the cross on foreheads, dipping his thumb into the ashes of once smoldering palms from the previous year's Palm Sunday celebration, and proclaiming, as he marks you, "Remember, O man, that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.''

I am thinking that

We, too, begin as the lowly dirt,

and we too, have the potential to produce many and varied fruits,

from seeds left along the way;

Some intentionally placed, some left by the wondrous hand of nature herself,

some unexpectedly offered by trees and plants that could hold their aging fruits no longer,

releasing them gently to the ground

allowing them to do what nature allows;

a period of dormancy

a time for fertlization

and then rebirth.

Fruits, that began as We;

un-fertilized seeds,

yet when given the right conditions;

the warmth,

and the nutrients,

to sustain our yet fragile forms,

slowly, we sprout,

hinting at the impending flower,

which foretells the color and essence of the fruit yet to be.

Like an enormous orange flower

that has the potential to become an enormous seed-laden pumpkin,

ready, when the time is right

to become the Jack O'Lantern that it has the potential yet to be--

To house the light which will illuminate,

both its inner and outer form,

lighting both itself and the path

for young hopefuls unsure of what's in store.

Over a season,

in the time in takes to transform an immense and fortelling blossom,

to a meaty, seed-bearing fruit,

We grow and change,

gaining what we need, to continue a measured process of growth,

and just as young fruits only slightly resemble the ripened product,

we need time to grow and to develop,

into what we were meant to become.

And as we ripen, we become, more ready,

to give what our fully developed form is intended to give:

both the fruit, and the seeds,

for although we may harvest and distribute both the fruit and the seed,

we are dually recipients of the fruits and seeds of more mature fruits,

which ferment within us in a perfect and self perpetuating harvest,

which is both annual and perennial,

in its own unique way.

And as we develop,

our potential to provide develops,

and when We are ready

we provide,

and then return for more nourishment

remembering that we were nourished ourselves.

And in order to receive

we must nourish,

and in order to nourish,

we must receive.

And there will always be resources enough,

for in our own search for sustenance,

we inevitably grow,

and the more fruit we bear the more seeds we can provide,

reseeding along our way,

often in unfamiliar territory,

in the dust that came before us

the dust we shall return to.

A Jar of Coins, a Loaf of Bread, and Thou

2009-05-08T09:56:00.009-05:00

One Year for Christmas, My Brother Chris and and his wife Julie gave each of us siblings a very thoughtful gift. Inspired by the Book The Christmas Jar, By Jason F. Wright, they gave each sibling's family an empty quart size Mason Jar. A slot was cut in the plastic lid, and inside were a number of stickers and ribbons to decorate the jar with.

In the Book The Christmas Jar, Hope Jensen, in a moment of great grief and monetary loss, is anonymously gifted a small jar of Money. Moved, Humbled, and transformed by this gift, her own faith in humanity is resurrected, as she searches for and ultimately finds the donors.

When we opened the package from my brother, inside, along with the jar and a copy of the book, was a note which read:

" In honor of the spirit of giving we were taught by Mama Rose and Papa Gene (The names our children call our parents), please decorate this jar, and over the course of this upcoming year, collect your spare change and donate it to the cause of your choice, in their name."

My parents have indeed, always been generous people. Their list of charities they support has grown as our families have grown, but what I remember more were the times when, moved by the suffering and loss in our own back yard, they gave without hesitation. I have a vivid memory of a time, when My parents went to visit one of our former Parish priests in his new Parish in the inner city. During the mass, a man entered the back of the church, mumbling, and disoriented, unclean and clearly intoxicated. He wore no shirt, but a suit jacket-- worn backwards; the sleeves serving as pant legs. Apparently, it wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but to my folks it was. They left the Church, bought him some clothing, and got him a meal. I will never forget that. On another occasion, I remember my mother gathering blankets and coats as we watched the apartment House at the top of our street burn. I don't remember them telling us to be generous, necessarily, but I do remember them being it themselves. Actions always speak louder than words.

Clearly, the act of giving, in and of itself , has a cathartic quality. It just does. I know, that with every handful of change I dropped into that jar over the first year of this project, I felt good.I made it a point, In fact I made it my intention, to place any change that came my way, into the jar. Change from the coffee I bought, change found in coat pockets and pants pockets, change left on the dresser or in my car's cup holder; Change I found in the Washer or the dryer. It all went into the jar. Two Sticky quarters I spied on the floor between our seats at the Bruce Springsteen Concert.: into the jar.

At the time, I was reading The Power of Intention, by Wayne Dyer, the premise of which is that YOU CREATE YOUR OWN REALITY, based on making it your intention to do so. It couldn't hurt to set an intention. I set my Intention: I intend to find lots of change; Mostly quarters.

The Jar was strategically placed on the counter juxtaposed between the back door and the laundry room. I begin to notice a direct correlation between the money I find, and the thoughts I am thinking. Often, there are only pennies. At times there are quarters and dimes. At the end of the first year, I was eager to see how much money I had saved, and took my kids to the local bank with the change counting machine, to await the news. We had saved $75.70. We were quite pleased, because, although, there were coins of all denominations in the jar, there was also a small amount of space still left. We decided, that, rather than waiting until the jar was filled, We would cash the money in before Christmas, to donate as our family Holiday Gift. Earlier in the Week, I had seen an advertisement for our Local Food Bank, Philabundance. It read: " 25 cents can provide one meal for a person in need."

That was all it took. I felt that 75$ could go a long way. So we Got a cashier's check in exchange for our collected change and we sent it off to Philabundance. We immediately began refilling the jar, and during the next year, our change began to multiply like a yeast expands bread dough. This time, the jar was so full, it could scarcely hold even a few more coins, and this time, the jar held $175.00. I am eager to see what this third year will bring, and although we are only 4 months in, it is growing nicely, as are the hopeful feelings I am gifted with whether I place a handful of coins or a few rogue pennies into the mix.

My parents tendency toward generosity begets our own. Once you've been the recipient of another's giving, or even just the bystander who observed it happen, you've been affected, not unlike the yeast which transforms the flour and water into a loaf of bread. And very much, like Hope Jensen, in the Story The Christmas Jar , we are moved, humbled and transformed from flour, water and yeast, into the Very Staff of Life.

"Imagine this! Kindness extended, received, or observed beneficially impacts the physical health and feelings of everyone involved!”

— Wayne Dyer in The Power of Intention: Learning to Co-Create Your World Your Way

Lessons Learned from Glory Days. Spontaneity, and Brewer's Yeast

2009-04-16T12:51:00.009-05:00

My Sister Karen took me to my first Bruce Springsteen Concert. Thunder Road was the First song of the evening. Well it wasn’t the opening song. We missed that one. You see, this integral Bruce Springsteen Odyssey began at Kent, State University, Karen’s Home Court at the time. I was invited down for a Little Sibs weekend, but Karen happened upon two Bruce Tickets, and our plans changed.As Karen always says"I thrive on spontaneity." We weren’t gonna go Ice skating at the Hockey Rink any more, and hang out with her Hockey player boyfriend and his little sib.

We were going to Bruce.

I was beside myself, as you can imagine any 14 year old Bruce initiate would be. There was only one problem. We had no car. But, With great enthusiasm, Karen implored her roommate, who was clearly distracted at the time sprinkling brewers yeast on her popcorn, to have pity on us and lend us her 1962 car of unknown origin and/or gasoline status, and or color.

For some reason, Karen hadn’t gotten her license till she was 18, so she didn’t have a lot of experience with map reading or navigation, or actual driving for that matter.It was a Leap of Faith. But No matter,We Had Reason to Believe we’d get there. We were Workin on a Dream.We did eventually get there, after taking some unexpected Backstreets, and ending up in some Badlands.Not a State Trooper or Highway Patrolman in sight. It was a wonder we didn’t end up in a Wreck on the Highway or in Nebraska. It took some some creative parking, But we had arrived; The Promised Land. Arrived just in time for Thunder Road.

I’m not sure how many other great Boss anthems we missed before our arrival, but arriving in the midst of the yearning cry of that blessed harmonica’s opening,I was ready to Prove it All Night–ready to incorporate every bit of the Boss that was left in that first formative Boss concert of my adolescent years. Standing behind the railing among Springsteen fans of varying degree, Bruce was then and there cemented into my being, and I was officially Growing up.

Gloria’s Eyes were filled, from then on, with the knowledge that, in this Land of Hope and Dreams, as long as we aren’t Blinded by the Light of fear’s Brilliant Disguise; Your own Worst Enemy, we are entitled to All that Heaven will Allow. At that moment, Karen and I were connected; Parallel, not unlike Bruce Springsteen’s gracing the Covers of Newsweek and Time on the very same day . I Don’t expect that memory to Fade Away. For times like these are The Ties that Bind, and in the inimitable words of Karen herself, when we work our way beyond our own nosebleed seats, down to the stage level, It’s Every man for himself. No retreat baby,No Surrender. And My Beautiful Reward? Dancing full on in my Levi’s and Frye Harness Boots with the all of other Gate Stormers enjoying Life Itself, because Tommorow Never Knows.

As We Floated out of the Cleveland Coliseum that night recounting every moment of the concert we did see, we were oblivious to what door we were exiting, or what side of the parking lot we'd end up on or where in fact we had actually parked the car some 3 glorious hours earlier. Wandering aimlessly for another hour,we needed to surrender, despite our vow not to.

We did need to get back to Kent State to enjoy what was left of the Little Sibs Weekend Festivities. So we enlisted Security, and when asked what sort of car we were looking for, we looked at each other, unsure of whether we had driven an Oldsmobile or a Ford or a Chevy. It could have been an Astin Martin for all we knew. When asked, at least, what color it was, we responded in unison. Karen: "Green"; Gloria: "Brown".

Rest assured, we did find it, our odds increasing as more and more of the responsible drivers left, visions of Bruce Springsteen jamming in their heads.

IT was two or three in the morning when we returned, and we were starving. Luckily, there was plenty of Brewers Yeast Popcorn left.

"Glory Days, Yeah they'll pass you by, Glory Days, In the wink of a young Girl's Eye. Glory Days. Glory Days..."

She Hasn't Met Bruce Springsteen. Yet.

2009-02-27T15:09:00.005-06:00

When I was in college, I had lots of odd jobs. I was a survey taker in a mall, a traffic flagger for a tree surgeon, a "flyer" at Sax Fifth Avenue, and "assistant to the Loss Prevention Auditor." I was a server for Katrina's Traveling Bistro, my sister Karen's short lived catering business. But some of my fondest memories were of my waitressing and bar-tending days. My sister and I had jobs at the Harley Hotel in Willoughby,Ohio--known for housing the performers who came to the Front Row Theatre, a nearby theatre "in the round," with a revolving stage, where "every seat is a good seat."

There was always a great Buzz around the hotel when the performers were staying there, and a great Hush hush surrounding the whole thing, yet many of the performers would come into the cocktail lounge after their shows, and just recline, often unbeknownst to the other guests who were there. This was great fun, and my sister was very adept at getting in on the star power--so much so, that she, and eventually I got weekend jobs parking cars at the "Front Row" Theatre, which afforded us the perk of seeing all of the shows. She'd meet the stage crew, and get back stage passes and offer up assistance above and beyond what her job required. Once she went into the restaurant's kitchen at 2am to concoct a nice soothing consomme' for one of the Everly Brothers. They were in town for a couple evenings and were good spirited and fun- loving. They asked us, "Where's a good place to go out dancing?"

My sister Karen, who's nickname was "Keg" in college, was on board with a location. And what goes down in history, is that, we did indeed take the Everly brothers out dancing. Now mind you, I was only about 19 at the time, and my sister about 24, and the Everly Brothers were, well, at least in their late 50's. But dancing--dancing is ageless. We had a Ball. They cut a rug. And they paid for the beverages.

Yet, one of Her best 15 minutes of fame, was getting to know "the lights guy" who worked for Peter, Paul and Mary. Not only was she able to get us tickets to see the show, she was also, after a concerted effort able to get us back stage, and what's more important, is that her intention was really to gift this as a surprise to My parents. We weaseled in too. But, it was My parents who had every Peter Paul and Mary Album imaginable, who introduced us all to "Lemon Tree" and "500 Miles" and "The Marvelous Toy" --such wonderfully poetic stories of joy and heartbreak--and Songs that could bring you to tears. My mother cried. I cried.

But I don't think I ever saw a Broader smile on My mother's face.

Ipso Facto.

And Karen?

She Hasn't Met Bruce Springsteen. Yet.

The Extinction of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom

2008-12-15T11:37:00.010-06:00

When I was young one of my favorite programs to watch on Sunday evenings was

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom,

hosted by Marlin Perkins, one of the leading ecologists of his time.

Although I don't remember preservation being Wild Kingdom's message at the time, I can see now that it was certainly the predecessor of today's Animal Planet and The Discovery Channel.

Now, Some 40 years later,

there are Whole Networks dedicated to education and preservation of our animal kin.

But how disappointed I was then, when that one show itself became extinct.

But today, I learned something very hopeful.

Although many, many species face extinction due to hunting, fishing, poaching and the mysterious hand of nature herself, Mother Nature yet continues to create and surprise us.

Scientists, in the past decade have discovered over 1,000 new species in Southeast Asia's Greater Mekong region alone. Species, of plants, reptiles, spiders, mammals, birds and fish. And they weren't all discovered in remote jungles. A rat species, thought to be extinct about 11 million years ago was discovered in a local market and a brilliant green pit viper in the rafters of a restaurant in a National Park: walking among us.

But what I find as wonderfully awe-inspiring as what I learned 35 years ago on Wild Kingdom, is that Nature does continue to renew and replace her own.

Yes, it is true that many of our most amazing and interesting animals do face the possibility of extinction, but it's also true, that the cycle of life and death will continue, in spite of us.

But just as television nature shows run their course, and are gone for decades, technology steps in 30 years later and offers us DVDs to relive our sentimental past.

Who'da thunk it?

Certainly not me.

But, If a Rat, extinct for 11 MILLION years can resurface,

than just about anything is possible,

and hope does spring eternal.

If Mother nature can regenerate, and replace in ever more complex and creative ways,

like the discovery of a cyanide laced electric-pink millipede, then we too can resurrect our dormant selves, and re-emerge triumphant, across our ever melting, yet ever freezing tundras.

And species do exist

even in the arctic tundras

Although the climate is extremely cold

and there is little diversity

and short seasons of growth and reproduction

despite this

there are nutrients from dead organic material

-to support that limited diversity-

and on the tundra

there are shifts

-population oscillations-

which are inevitable

for it's nature's way

And that's a comforting thought.

Yes, It was disappointing when Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom finally became extinct in the 1980's.

But as history often dictates, and the future always shows, Tomorrow is a Mystery.

What may end up on The Discovery Channel tomorrow

might be the resurrection of something from the past, or something entirely different.

Odds are, one or both may happen.

So We need to Stay Tuned.....

"What future bliss He gives not thee to know,

But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.

Hope springs eternal in the human breast:

Man never is, but always to be, blest.

The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,

Rests and expatiates in a life to come."

-Alexander Pope

EPISTLE I:

Of the Nature and State of Man, With Respect to the Universe

Sydney's Catastrophe, and other Cat's Tails and Tales

2008-12-03T15:32:00.010-06:00

Have you ever heard of a Cat named Cat-astrophe? I have, and I actually did, name a cat Cat-astrophe: hyphen and all. No, he did not have any formal records bearing his hyphenated name,for he was a cat, like all of my other cats, of "Uncertain Origin", and also of "Uncertain Veterinary care," but whenever I wrote his name, which I don't actually ever remember doing, It was hyphenated for comedic value. You see, I was one of those kids who came to the dinner table with my Handy Dandy

"Book of Corny Jokes,"

So I was fond of comedic value.

But, what has more comedic value, and what I

I thought you might really like to know, is that my first cat was named Sydney, and that he met an untimely and unfair demise whilst frolicking with his dear friend Smokey, in the middle of the Road, as Cat friends so often do.

Heart Wrenching!

My brother Michael proceeded to race me up the street to the church basement where my parents were at a church meeting of one form or another.

(One Form:

Marriage Encounter group,

Another Form:

Overwhelmed Parents of 7 group, praying for tuition)

The whole group was now involved, and predictably, to calm a hysterical 6 year old,

"Don't worry, we'll get you a new cat."

"But I don't want another cat, I want Sydney!!!!!!!"

And then, low and Behold, an Angelic voice from the crowd,

"My cat just had kittens, you can have one of them."

The Lord indeed works in mysterious ways,

when your doing His work,

in His Basement.

And my next Cat? in a long line of

"not really appreciated by her father, outdoor-cats":

Cat-Astrophe! Yes, that was his name.

And Why you ask?

Why Name a Cat Catastrophe?

Well, for all of the obvious reasons, like his running behind a stack of drywall and me following him, only to be slammed by said stack of drywall, and rushed to the hospital for numerous stitches on my calf.

If you really want to know, there was Toby, to follow, who indeed did follow me home from the convenience store, after I deftly lured him with freshly cut deli slices of "chip-chop" ham.

Sadly, he only had half a tail. It was just a stump. But I loved him just the same.

And then, there was Cola, yes, she was black as night, and apparently pretty popular at night time with the other out-door male cats in the neighborhood. She bequeathed both Pepsi, and Coca, one of which was sadly lost in a tragic bird pecking.

All true.

And what ever became of Smokey?

Yes, Smokey,

Sydney's dear friend with whom Sydney met his untimely demise.

Smokey was the Cat of Mrs. Francis, our "Indoor-Cat loving" neighbor, and he Lived to tell the tale, with a Jaw that was rebuilt and wired shut,( well I guess he had a hard time telling the tale with a jaw that was wired shut)

and he got a brand new,shiny glass eye!

Oh Mrs Francis was so lucky! Her Cat lived and My Cat died.

But Smokey Promptly ran away,

Leaving Mrs. Francis to tell the tale.

But I, I got a new kitten.

He wasn't Sydney, mind you, No cat could ever replace Sydney, but he was a pretty cool cat, who's name indeed was Cat-astrophe.

Remember, Math is Your Friend, or Math Ain't Everything

2008-11-20T09:13:00.006-06:00

When I was a kid, I didn't have an affinity for Math. In fact, I satisfied my college math requirements by taking this series of Philosophy courses:

1. Logic. IF, there is an Option to Take Philosposhy instead of Math, THEN, I will not take math.

2. Ethics. Is it indeed ethical to allow students to take Philosophy instead of Math?

and

3. Philosophy of Sex and Love. Does Love exist? Does Sex Actually Exist? Does the existence of either have anything to do with math?

And as a Communications and English Major, I was no worse for wear. I can, however, calculate "30% off", and feel fairly competent at basic computations, especially when It's some form of a riddle. So when my cousin Cindy, whose emails I always enjoy, sent me an email entitled, "Remember, Math is Your Friend", I was up for the Challenge. Here is what the email said:

Are you smarter than a 5th grader?

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

5th Grade Math Problem

Good luck!

This is a 5th grade math problem. If you can open the spreadsheet, you'll see it's a very small list of people who have gotten the correct number. This is not a trick question. This is a real math problem so don't say that a bus has no legs.

There are 7 girls in a bus.

Each girl has 7 backpacks.

In each backpack, there are 7 big cats.

For every big cat there are 7 little cats.

Question: How many legs are there in the bus?

(The number of legs is the password to unlock the Excel sheet. If you open it, add your name and send it on.)

Simple Enough. I got out a freshly sharpened no.2 pencil and Got to work. Here is how I went about it:

7 Girls x 7 Backpacks= 49 Total Back Packs

14 cats in each back pack(7 big,7 small) 14x49=686 total cats

each cat has 4 legs. 686 x 4=2744 cat legs

the seven girls each have two legs=14

2664 cat legs +14 girl legs=2758 legs all together, Right?

Um...Wrong.

I recalculated it again. Nothin Doin! That Excel Spread Sheet aint openin' No Way, No How!

I decide there must be some form of hidden trick embedded deep within this 5th grade conundrum.

I shoot a reply email to My cousin that goes Like this:

Dear Cindy,

Ok ,That wasted an awful lot of time for this English Major, An awful lot, and no I did not get the pleasure of passing it on With a proud grin on my face.

Did you count the bus driver too? Do cats have only two legs, but also two arms?

Has the World Gone Mad? Is there a Bus Driver indeed on the bus? Are there indeed 49 back packs, each with 14 terrified cats inside, ready to scratch the living daylights out of your eyes for keeping them in a backpack?

Is 7x7 actually 49?

I think the Bus Driver is Drunk….

He’d have to be to let 7 screaming girls on the bus with a ridiculous quantity of cat-laden backpacks, wouldn’t ya say?

And, I’d like to add to that question, How many pieces of Cat crap does each back pack now hold, and do you really think teenage girls would be willing to clean it up?

Love, Glo

When My Daughter Avery comes home that night she happens to tell me that she was the only one in her math class who got a certain Math Challenge Problem Right. I'm Noticeably proud. I have three Children, and they are all Math Capable. I'm So Glad I married an Engineer! As you might expect, I really Do want to know how many legs are on that Bus. In fact, I've redone the problem so many times, that even my dog's head is spinning like a backpack full of angry cats trying desperately to get off a school bus. So I march her to the Computer to show her the problem, which she eagerly tackles.

Now, Dear Reader, use your 5th grade reading skills and predict what happens next.

Do you think that Avery, math capable child that she is, got a spot on that coveted Excel Spread Sheet? .....

Good Question, Dear Reader. Good Question. The Answer is no, not on the first go 'round. She did, however, quickly see the error of her ways, and took her rightful spot on that hallowed Excel spread Sheet of yore.

But, how did she do it? What is the Key?

This is the answer as Best as I can Figure:

*First of All, She Quickly saw the error of her ways. Quickly. She didn't waste any time recalculating the problem in the same way as she did when she got the problem wrong.

*Then, immediately she shifted gears, as kids are so capable of doing, and addressed the problem in a different way.

Elementary My Dear Watson, Elementary!

*The other thing she did was Simplify the Problem.

Yes, she made it simpler. Simpler than I did.

She solved it as if there was just one girl with seven backpacks, and 14 cats per bag. She broke it down to its most simplistic form, and took it from there. And she got the problem right.

She showed me what I did wrong numerous times so I could write this little tale, but I still don't understand. Terrence and Lindsey have tried to teach me too. They get a real kick out of it. Any way, as I learned in college Logic class, If I had gotten it right, and told you the answer, then I would have robbed you of an opportunity to

*See the Error of your Ways *Shift Gears and *Simplify the Problem

And that just Wouldn't be Ethical.

So once again, my kids teach me something new: A Life Lesson about Problem Solving. And Me? What have I taught them this time?

As long as Iphones have calculators, math ain't everything.

Chanting Om

2008-11-18T16:03:00.001-06:00

One of my favorite parts of Yoga class is chanting Om....

in lotus position, hands calmly resting on our knees

thumb and forefingers together.

Sometimes class will begin this way, and sometimes it's how it ends

But

Some Yoga teachers don't dare tread there.

It's too "Out there"

though

Some go there whole-heartedly

with full and resonant "Ah-oh-mmm..."

But Why Chant Om in the first place?

The answer is simple.

It unites us.

Om is believed to be

the sound of the Universe

made up of three principle sounds

And Generally it is chanted 3 times,

each a full breath's worth

And when you gather up your courage,

and close your eyes if you must

take a deep, courageous, preparatory breath

open your mouth and trust--

a sound will indeed come out

and if you can suspend judgement of how you sound

or if it sounds "right"

or how you look

or if you look "right"

You'll notice something very interesting:

Even though each participant may not start on cue

when all are exhaling the three part sound together

each at his or her own pacing

and breath rate

The sound does indeed become one sound

and it couldn't sound more

right

and this 3 part sound of the mantra Om

can be felt as a resonance within each One

at the heart center

and all around the body

For the Oms have joined hands

And the Oms have joined hands with all of the Oms

chanted before we were even born

since the sound itself is energy

which is neither created nor destroyed

It just exists

but together

we are bringing it forth

Intentionally

And the truth is

It keeps resonating

It keeps traveling forth

And when our Oms are exhaled

They are neither created

nor destroyed

-but brought together-

Intentionally--Recycled

and in so doing

We utter audible evidence

of our

One Voice

Over-Steering, Buoys and Debris

2008-11-03T08:56:00.009-06:00

Yogi Berra, once said

“ You can see a lot by observing.”

Cruising the Chesapeake Bay in the Autumn months is a blessing.

As a passenger, I am feeling the scenery

as we are present

this first day of November

In what feels like the peak of the Fall foliage.

The water's lull marries

the freshly-raked

leaf-fragrant air,

and

the specially chosen sound track

weaves this experience into my being

Its resonance carried aloft

absorbed into the air

absorbed into the brackish

Chesapeake Brown-Green-Gold

I am Grateful for this opportunity

to appreciate this day

in this ever apparent

tailor made way.

But Soon I am asked to take to the helm, as my husband needs to attend to the engine momentarily. It is a large vessel, and I am fairly comfortable with navigating in the wide open, but the Chesapeake is dotted with Crab Traps and unfortunate slabs of wood and other floating debris.

I must sharpen my awareness, and shift my focus, scanning the expanse both to prevent damage to our props, and to spy the upcoming red and green buoys in order to keep on course.

It is a large Stainless steering wheel beneath my hands, and as soon as I spy the buoy I am to aim for, I cross hand over hand, and begin towards my course. I shift my gaze from the water to the GPS to see how far off the next focal point will be. I see the small boat-like figure that represents our vessel on the screen, and quickly note that It looks as if it's intending to spin on it's axis.

I've over steered.

Steering a boat is nothing like steering a Car. It's Much more subtle.

I correct my over-zealous attempt at capable navigation, and try to steer less.

It takes some thought.(or possibly less thought) I decide to focus more on the expanse ahead, and strain to find the next red buoy which I am to keep on my right.

I am finding that less is more when it comes to steering a course with no obstacles to avoid. Sharp Turns are reserved for Avoiding collisions with undesirable debris.

Just Keeping a course actually requires much less severity, and much more trust.

Steering the Vessel that is my Life is the same.

It's subtle.

Only there's no external GPS to follow.

It's a combination of internal GPS

And trial and error.

Sometimes, I just narrowly miss the debris

and sometimes I hit an unfortunate slab

dead on,

and my "props" get bent

I am left dry dock, nursing my wounds.

When I have repaired,

My propulsion is fresh

As if I never took that bum steer

And hand over hand

I begin again

with the knowledge that

obstacles

indeed debris

are to be expected

and if I need to take a sharp turn to avoid a collision at the last minute

than so be it

But it will take sharpened Awareness

and a shift in focus

But Cruising is a Blessing,

if not an Adventure

And if I am intent on Feeling the Scenery

then I must scan the expanse

for both debris and buoys

if I'm to stay on course,

And it's not always the course I originally charted

"One can choose to go back toward safety or forward toward growth. Growth must be chosen again and again; fear must be overcome again and again."

Abraham Maslow
1908-1970, Psychologist

Now is the Time

2008-10-25T11:40:00.008-05:00

Now is the Time

Now is the Place

Here is the Moment

Beginning

Experiencing

Allowing

Experiencing

Living

Experiencing

For it is only this Way

That The Way can be Seen

It is only this Way

That The Way

Can be gleaned

And if We only Can be Present

For just a short While

Then Let's Be there Fully

And Let's Be there While

The moment is recognized

The moment is Clear

To be seen

and be Felt

To be claimed

and to hear

And then later

We'll notice

When It's time to Heed

A moment that needs tending

Which is then brought to seed

To water

and then flower

and hence to reseed

thus connecting the moments

connecting indeed

And when we connect them

we become more aware

And Awareness

is the answer

And it's becoming

Less Rare

Pictures of Christ, Incarnations and Representations

2008-10-17T12:31:00.023-05:00

When My son made his First Communion, We gave him a picture of Jesus. It sits on his desk, along side his lap top, and his mug of pencils and pens.

Every time I go into his room, I am drawn to it.

It's called "Head of Christ."

This Particular Incarnation really resonates with me.

Resonate: to relate harmoniously : to strike a chord

The eyes draw me to him, and I feel loved. He looks, to me, like someone you might see on the street, or in the grocery store or on the soccer field or a yoga class.

It makes me feel a sense of Deja Vu.

But

There are Many, Many Incarnations of Christ:

The Christ of Godspell

The Christ of Jesus Christ Superstar

The Christ of The Passion of Christ

The Christ in the Christian Church

The Christ in the Mosque

The Christ in the Buddhist Temple

And we too

are incarnations

of Christ Ourselves

Being Different forms

And They

The Christ on the Street

The Christ in the Grocery Store

The Christ on the Soccer Field

They

Are Incarnations of Christ,

Themselves

For

Every Artist's Incarnation

Every Artist

Each Unique.

Every Christ on the Street

Every Christ on the Soccer Field

Every Christ in The Grocery Store

Every Christ

In fact

in the Yoga Studio

Every Incarnation

Every Representation

Each Unique

But Familiar

But Resonant

Ourselves in Another

Another in Ourselves

Wondering Aloud

2008-10-14T19:04:00.004-05:00

Wondering Aloud
Wondering Again
Growing and Learning
I can not pretend

It is not my destiny
To sit this thing out
It's my responsibility
to find out about
myself and my areas
that need fixing up
and to drink till I'm full
from the overflowing cup

The cup that allows
all needs to be met

The cup that holds nary a
seed of regret

but a cup
that's refilling
and we owe it no debt.