Looks like sex to me!

There are days in this spot when you can't tell the Sound from the land surrounding it, it is thick like that, the fog, as it heaves itself up and down above the water,out there, like a lover, moving in time. Relieved, it finally disappates, and begins it's groping towards," my," home.... where moisture is everywhere, dripping from branches, and covering the lawn. It looks like sex to me!

Trees penetrating into the sky look like sex to me...and jets as they buzz by remind me of old lovers, too fast to have left a memory of anything substantial, just a memory of haste, and no taste.

Ferns drip their spored leaves earthward, to consummate, reproduce, to leave their mark upon the world.

The moon caresses the water at night, about 3 AM, it might be brightest then. I may be there to see the loving.

The mountains in the distance seep; plung, get into the water any way that they can, watering their rocky bones.

Have you noticed... it everywhere? Sex is; moisture, touching, caressing, penetrating, everywhere! What about a rating here guys! These photos are all over magazines, National Geographic, Kids Day...."raw" sex! All of nature is copulating,but no one is offended, maybe they are too insensitive to see it for what it is. And Dear God, if they did, it would all be banned! The fundamentalists from every culture would do it. The f word! Spare us all the F word, all the fundalis...spare us God, they are the demise, of all that is holy, and sexy, of all that is poetic, and real, all that is truth, they bury it in their fears. Well, truth is, we all live in fear, but some of us don't try to control," everyone else," just our partners, and neighbors, families, only not the, "whole," world, making it fundamentally unfit for love, freedom, and not to mention.....us...

I was at a monastery once at a retreat, we were asked to go outside and write about what we saw. OOPS! They won't make that mistake again! We had to read what we wrote! The funny thing was, the nun was the least shocked of all the people there. I would say she was not shocked at all, but liked my vision. Well, it was undeniable! Truth is undeniable, but you cannot say what it is, because you limit it if you do, and truth cannot be limited. So you can only say what it is not, you can only talk around it, because it is beyond words, it is all, after..all.

No, I wasn't kicked out, they let me stay for the whole retreat, and unlike Vipassana,I didn't bail out several days before it ended because it was so damn weird! Meditation isn't about sitting in the same place, not making eyes contact, or speaking with people days on end. Meditation, real meditation is not going blank, because when you stop, all the stuff just comes back anyway. Real meditation is in living, consciously, being aware of who you really are, beyond all the thinking, as much as posssible, in everyday actions.

Meditation is the grace of sex, of letting go, of seeing with clear eyes. The love in eyes, the beauty of dirt, sweat, and, yes, drool. Passion is all there is! Ascension is our hearts desire, and we don't dissappear to others when we ascend, we just can't find the self we thought we were! Ha! It is banished, because it wasn't real, the misconception. In reality, only truth lives, breathes, has life, is light, kisses our brow, takes us away, to where we have always been, above this into the sublime.

Wouldn't you say?

Part 2, I am Leaving You Jake, Goodbye!

I read these words to him as we sat on the log by the fire eating our brown sugar and cinnamon oatmeal from paper picnic cups with fold out handles, the waves of the Pacific Ocean breaking on the shore just steps from our shelter,.a massive 12x12 ft. root ball of a giant tree that had been blown down by some strong and terrible storm, and washed ashore. It lay there helpless on its side. I, too, had been toppled, my roots exposed, family of origin gone, a marriage of 28 years destroyed, and left to raise Alki, my Granddaughter alone.

His response to my writing was a simple raised eyebrow as he left to take his coffee to the beach as I wrote. That was the kind of response I had been getting now for some time, well, as long as I can remember. Since his divorce, he couldn't talk about marriage, could hardly say the word. He had been smitten by me, he said, and while his proposals of marriage were sincere, he couldn't take a first step.

He needed time to struggle with himself, he said. I wondered why he didn't just take it, if that was what he needed.

I had experienced too much loss already, and that with this seeming no concern for future or my desires was writing on the wall that I couldn't ignore. No longer willing to access my feelings, and no evidence that Jake was a prince coming with the promise of warmth to rescue my feelings from their deep slumber, I planned to leave and begin a new life, AGAIN!

I took a break from my writing to scoop the oatmeal into my mouth with the plastic picnic knife he had provided. He came back to sit beside me and read the new entries I had made. He watched as I wrote, and then he said,” he lifted me and carried me to the tent where my warmth and passion were rekindled.” These were his words of choice.

“Ha! You wish!” I said, and we laughed, but the passion was gone for me. I was going through the motions, my responses were as dull as the picnic knife, and as plastic! Any joy I had felt languished now, like the froth left on the sand, remnants of a great wave.

I am Leaving You Jake, Goodbye!

Part 1

The conversation had taken a comic turn towards what our relationship would be like after the split. The jokes were full of sexual innuendo on his part, and on mine, the multitude of male friends I would have to take his place.

He took it better than I, but things were the way he wanted, with no compromise on his part. I was dissatisfied. I had plans to leave. I had an offer accepted on a condo, a plan. I was on my way out.

We had been what seemed like best friends, loving partners, with wits and humors, and dispositions well matched, but the relationship was stagnant. After being together for three years, the time for commitment had come and gone, Jake asserted he was committed, but my question would be, to whom was he committed, because it didn’t seem there was any commitment to me, only a carrot stick leading the way.

Commitment was not a word he understood, my commitment, yes, but not his. I hated his resistance, it was stifling, it was beginning to make me feel the same kind of fear he lived with everyday. His fear that another woman would leave him, “women always leave, he said” A self fulfilling prophesy,” not to mention he was running me off with his lack of courage, and covertly controlling all elements of our lives. He wrote the book on denial, and I spent too much time reading it. When it came to marriage he firmly planted his feet into the path of least resistance, now, he only wanted to live together.

“What as? What as?” I asked, quoting some favorite lines from Reds. “ Your mistress, your paramour, your concubine?” My humor weakened my position, but defended my dignity. “This is serious,” I crossed my arms to emphasize my position. My impish stance invited humor, and a smile began spreading across his face. I furrowed my brow. “ Remember all the times when I was certain your feelings and mine were mutual, my head in the clouds, silly in love, waiting to hear those three little words, “ lets get married? Well, I don’t want that anymore!”

Having experienced disappointment too many times before, I found it harder to allow my feelings to resurface. Just before the last straw, I had felt like a Christmas tree trimmed out in garlands and ribbons, ornaments that sparkled, a gold star on top. I brightened the room with my warmth, dazzling smile, bright eyes and festive spirit.

“Jerez , he said, I am not emotionally ready to marry.”

I felt as though he had thrown a bucket or two of ice cold water over my head. My star pitched, garlands slid, lights crackled, popped and sizzled, blinked one last time. The room turned dark. The papers from the presents dissolved, the boxes collapsed revealing emptiness. I ran down the basement stairs, opened the freezer door, climbed in, dug like a clam to the bottom beneath the frozen vegetables, and hid my feelings there, closed the freezer, locked the door, and evidently have lost the key. Probably buried in the pocket of some parka at the local Salvation Army. The new owner would never guess it was the key to someone’s heart.

Private 1st class Sarah

……Counter Intelligence Agent

Today I received a phone call from a very excited 19 year old, (and Mother of 1 ½ year old baby, and unmarried.)

“ Guess what”, She said? I am now private 1st class Sarah____, and I am a counter intelligence agent! ( see my jaw drop?..see my mind flooded with questions, concerns?)

“ I go to boot camp in February. I scored really high on my ..”and she rattled of the name of the tests she had taken and told me about all her high scores.

“ Well, Sarah, what about the baby?” I found myself saying, not so much asking but more like trying to get through without bursting her bubble.,” I will just have to sign him away while I am in boot camp, then I get him back, my Mom will take care of him,” she said.

So they allow single parents in to the military, I said, still hoping to ring a bell.

“Oh yes, I get him back , then I will have him and my work will be just be sitting beside a general in a rocking chair, she said.

I hope she didn’t hear my almost audible gasp.” Private Benjamin I said?” It went over her head.

Now my mind is just pumping out thoughts, and I am trying to focused on our conversation, all the while I am thinking, about how this war, is not my war! And how in joining, you agree with the war, and I am thinking they really took her on this one. Ego appeals always do us in.

I wish she had spoken with someone about this decision, and I am glad Daisy is not a member of the military and going into any part of this war.

I still hope that she will back out before she signs papers to leave her child.

I am amazed, as you may well be, that our country is taking young people who are starry eyed, and who are lured on by the promise of a $9000.00 enlistment bonus, Does anyone wonder why? “We’ll give you this up front for participating in our war, for being willing to lose your life.” $9,000. 00 doesn’t go far when you are in a coffin draped with a flag.Peace goes further than 9,000.00 does!

Sarah, you've been conned by a Uncle Sam, who wants ,,"YOU," and makes you believe you want this war.

One size Doesn't Fit All!

Signals make life easier...

How far would you get going to work everyday, or for one day, if you didn’t stop at red lights, stopped at green ones, never slowed for a yield sign, or for that matter, went to work when you wanted to rather than when the the appointed was, and revealed by,,,the clock you watch?

How many wool sweaters would be too small, and have very long skinny sleeves if you didn’t read the tag, and do what it says.
Machine wash cold, lay flat to dry. Or this one, dry clean only, or wash in cold water, do not dry.

When you have tyour lawn seeded and your lawn turns brown, you run to the store to see what is wrong with it, to save that yard! We take care for what we care about, learn it, grow it, read it mind it.

But when it comes to relationships ever notice how people push someone’s buttons that make them react in a way that is undesirable?

Why is that I wonder?
Can anyone please tell me that?

I don’t know about you folks, but here with me, one size doesn’t fit all. I have my needs, and my rules and my rathers, and rathers not. Don’t fence me in to someone else’s size, please! Be cool, love me, learn me, love me, and learn me again.

Two books to get....

The Disapperance of the Universe ......... Gary Renard, Refers to a Course in Miracles Abe books around 14.00 and up, new.

I AM ........... Jean Klein ( out of print) Available from The Jean Klein Foundation for 12.95. Also there are tapes, videos, and other books by Klein that would be of interest.

Only 95% Weird Today

Today I dressed up in a real skirt and blouse with jacket, wrapped myself in my new big warm turquoise coat, almost looked like a big blanket wrapped round me, ( stylish, huh?) and headed for an interview. Between here and my destination, there were icy snowflakes falling, and it was very cold, has been for a few nights. I can only imagine that this weekend it will be might chilly, and maybe frozen round these parts.

It was fun being out and around, and I always enjoy a good interview, it is just nice to be with people, and I think interviewing is fun. This interview was with a down to earth man, he was not pretentious, didn’t ask a lot of those juvenile and ridiculous questions often asked in interviews, ones that there is only one real answer to, like,” is this what you wanted to be when you were growing up? To which one in all honesty can only reply, “well, is this what you wanted to be while growing up.” But then you make them realize they are asking foolish questions, but what can one say, “ Yes, I always wanted to be a Burger queen.” Or, “ Yes, I wanted more than anything all my life to sit in front of a computer typing, it is just a slice of heaven, I am dying to experience.”

Or what about this one, “ Tell me your weak points. To which you are obviously supposed to make sound like a weak point, but it really emphasizes your strength. Really! Who ever was stupid enough to make these up, didn’t deserve to have any position of any kind of authority, because they obviously lack an element necessary to think, ..a brain!

Or what about, “ Tell me a long term goal and a short term goal. ( Obviously they aren't paying attention, because the goal is obvious, it is to get a job, and money, to eat and survive, or better a lot of money to be wasteful and decadent.

Have you heard this one, “with all the interesting things you have done with your life, why would you want to do something as boring as this? ( Maybe the same reason you do it?)

There is no end to the stupid questions stupid people ask you at an interview, is there, I mean , what can you expect from stupidity, except stupidity?

A novel approach might be to get to know the person, maybe talk about, heaven forbid, their personal life! Who they really are, what they love, what they need, what kind of ideas they have, what they like doing, what they loved doing as a kid, what motivates them, the kinds of things that will actually tell an employer where to put someone, or how to use their talents. Too practical I guess? Must be similiar to most psycho therapist who are afraid to speak about their own lives, to their clients, or remove that separateness, and let real love and compassion through. Heaven must forbid this love, but you know some really successful therapists have actually gone out on a limb and done this. Shock me!

It happens to be a weird world, but today, my life was only 95% weird, because I had a completely real interview!

A cozy connection with a far away friend

It’s been a while since I snuggled up by the fire with a half bottle of my favorite vino, Muscato Di Asti, a rare lightly sweet, clean dessert wine, along with my unused mintues on Verizon to catch up with one of my very best friends, Kathy.

Kathy and I go way way back, back about 30 years, I guess, at least. We met at Olives, where I was hired to make bows for Crissmiss, and was making centerpieces, wreaths, decorating trees, selling ornaments, plants, working the gift shop and eventually was also running the greenhouse, and keeping the books, selling trees, shrubs, and so forth. All I didn’t do was the pet shop. Kathy, and Peggy ( rest her soul) both worked in the pet shop, Peggy almost exclusively, and Kathy did all kinds of other jobs like I did.

We had some great times together back in those days, and after we both divorced, Kathy became like a sister to me, How many friends would fly out to where you have moved, and drive with you and your child in a 27 ft U-haul, with transported car on the back to move again, and offer you living with them in a tiny apartment because you were really just lost and ungrounded, alone, adrift without a family to help you feel rooted in something, belonging to some one group, again?

Kathy and I had our differences at one time, I think that is what makes a real relationship, tried and true. I always knew we had a bond, and bonds like that never break, they might be tested, but not broken.

When Kathy and I chat for a few to three hours, catching up, as I sit back in my siesta chair feet up, and sipping my favorite wine, it is almost as good as a real visit. We go through all the drama’s, and the tragedies, and then always end up telling stories about friends, men, etc that are just too funny. We share news about movies, books, and travels. We catch up with the goings on of each others lives, and it is truly a reunion that leaves me feeling happy, connected and satisfied. Maybe Saturday I will ring her up, and she’ll be in that place of needing a visit too, although of late we talk while she is traveling, from Alabama to visit her family in Texas.

Kathy lost her Mother this last year just before Christmas. She made many trips back to see her in hospitals, and at home, and now she visits her Dad. Kathy has two sons that take very good care of her, calling and visiting. Dan is the younger, and Matt, my Godson, the oldest. I have always appreciated the boys involvement in her life, the way they won’t leave her alone holidays, and how they travel to places with her. They talk often on the phone.

Talking to Kathy while she travels is nice too, Those long stretches can be so lonely, I know, as one who has traveled across country alone. It makes me feel an important part of her travels, and I am needed, and I hope it makes her feel that she is cared for.

It’s time soon for another long talk, catching up, reminiscing, laughing, crying, all those things you do with girlfriends that make that friendship rich and rewarding, and that keeps you tied to places, time and people that are no longer visibly in your life.

In a marriage, ended, in anyway, it feels you are just a domino that fell of the end of the world, went suddenly from having a family you belong to, to being forgotten, shut off, a denial of reality, a hurtful experience, a death, that has no reason for being… after the time it takes to heal, learn, grow. But mine hasn’t changed much, still denial of connection. My friends, any friend isn’t like that, they love me, and I love them, and we support one another with loving calls, e-mails, and whatever visits we can create to strengthen our bonds, and the world in this wholeness ( love) that supports all of life.

My word!!!

( An Aside, artwork by Daisy...
...when the tough go shopping?)

I am a Mac User! I have worked with PC’s, a few years ago now, didn’t care for them at all. I was the one who had to get the computers up and running, fix problems, etc. Not to mention use the programs. So 3 years ago when I got a new computer, this G4, I didn’t get any msft. programs! None! I have been using Apple works for processing, and didn’t care what else there was, because I had experienced msft. Programs as being unfriendly, and not designed for creative people.

A dear friend gave me a copy of Word recently, and guess what? I love it! Microsoft is coming along. I like being able to mail a document directly from word to my apple mail program that I also love. I am grateful for this gift, and for the new challenges in learning that I have now… along with my new Adobe software for writing. I think I will just keep my word!

Warming up to create...

This is a Turkoman felted wool rug I won on E-bay. It is one of many Persian rugs I have collected in the past 3 years. Others include Gabbehs, Shiraz, Turkoman, Gashgai, Kilims, ( Afghan), Kurdish, & Mahal, Chobi, and more. I really love these rugs made by hand, can you imagine making rugs that require tying 100 to 130 knots per sq.inch, living in the desert as a nomad? What wonderfully creative and lively folks these are.

This Crissmiss I was really excited about sharing a few of my favorite things. I made satin printed pillowcases, with French seams, that opened in the back, and bought some down and feather mix pillows, too, for Daph and family. I made about 20 pillow cases, and I gave chamomile spray for pillows and lettuce soap for bathing,( my favorite soap in the world, it's clean, has a light scent), made by Roger and Gallet. I order it from Canada @feelbest.com, look under soap. (So far it is still cheaper than here even with shipping, but it appears that the Canadian dollar is gaining fast.) I am hoping every one loves these gifts as much as I do, and as much as my Reiki clients do.

Since my trip I have become more interested in my snow globes, and lanterns made with those great french burners. I was re- inspired when I noticed that an idea I had 8 years ago was being produced by a potter in the Methow Valley.
( That is met how?)
I moved my wheel into the kitchen tonight, the studio is not warming up very fast, and I figured I might be more apt to work in clay if I had my wheel in the house. We' ll see!

I have a lot of ideas for things to make, (felt rugs).Like the one from from E-bay (above) and am hoping to buy a sack of wool, maybe three bags full...

I have also been crocheting a bit. The past few years I have done some hats and I am trying to ref-configure the hat I wore back in the 70's that I pulled my hair through. It has been so long since I have crocheted.

Just seems that I have to be creating something all the time, if not, I make trouble. It works!


This is a shrine I made for Daisy this year, it was full of treasures I made, found, or treasures that were hers as a child. I loved having it here, and miss it a lot. I added Japanese paper on the wood at top, stained the rest of the wood and glued golden angels on the four top corners. Each floor has some theme, the middle one has a cat watching a mouse on his TV. His feet rest on a silver ,”ottoman/jewelry box.

I hope to make more of these shrines, they are really art with a presence.

I bought silk paper in Leavenworth yesterday, and I may make some lined with this paper, which is white and has small blue flake pattern. You will notice my photo is on the, "main," floor of Daisy's , "condo!" The floors have Mexican and Japanese dolls, stacking cats, rugs, toys, tiny books, jewelry boxes, jewelry, Daisy's art work, photos, paper art. The heart shaped box contains a stamp that has her initial, D, on it, and there is a candle for sealing letters on that floor as well. A hint to write?

(This early photo was incomplete, in that I added so much more stuff every day it was here, and the finishing touches on the exterior, too. Well, I finally had to mail it, or I wouldn't have been able to afford sending it.) It has everything you need to make a small home!