Heart throb!

Mini mac computer $500.00, Totally affordable, and kewl, Mac you make my heart skip a beat, just in time for V day. Won't some one buy you and give you away, to me! Or an ipod is good, too. Oh my my, need a few extra bucks, and a source for a small mini screen.

Apple of my eye, and a great stock too. Selling a million songs a day at 99 cents each, you are," my precious!"

John, ( my stockbroker) eat your heart out!

Informative chat link, politics, economics

http://www.prudentbear.com/bearschat/bbs_list.asp?fid=1
Also rumor has it that Bill Moyers is challenging Americans to not spend one dime on Inaugration day in protest of the war, boycotting all spending on that day. It would be a good meter to see if we the people have any power at all, if we have any, it would be economic! Try it! While this may be only an urban legend, what if we learn something from it, like we do have some power? Wouldn't it be worth the experiment? I think so! If we learned that by eating beans for a month of Sundays, or not buying any new clothes for a month would get the attention of an inattentive government, wouldn't it be well worth the try? No protests with police shooting college kids, just stop spending a bit, who couldn't manage that? Opinions anyone?

Never too late?

One short note before bed. This is about my beginnings, and I hope it rings a bell with somebody. Back in PA when I was a little little girl playing cowboys and Indians, I remember now, that I was prone to faint, ( as cowgirls on tv did) and fall to the ground, hand over my head, palm up. I remember kids standing over me, girls that knew about this fainting, and boys who said,” What happened?” The girls replying, “Oh, she fainted.”

My my, the joys of childhood, any other fainters out there? I was also responsible for butter and brown sugar sandwiches for all the kids. And... I made maple leaf and lilac corsages and sold them door to door for a nickel when I was 5. MY first great idea. It all began then...or maybe that is when it all ended? Maybe, just maybe, unlike Jimmy Stewart, and Henry Fonda, who apparently continued with their cowboy playing, as actors, I failed to acknowledge my budding talents as a drama queen..or else, maybe it was moving to Texas that was responsible...learning too soon there weren't really any cowboys and Indians fighting it out in the wild west. Yes, I think that was what stunted my acting career! They say it is never too late!

Leaving Jake Part 3

Our relationship had been adventurous. Hiking and backpack trips were full of laughter, teasing, frequent stops along the trail to embrace. He was a witty and charming man, that Jake! On one particular hike I was trudging up a steep trail, pack on my back, panting ( and I was in shape). He made his way effortlessly, almost machine like. I stopped, breathless, and he came to stand beside me, and mostly to hide my embarrassment I said,” bet you don’t even have a pulse? (huff huff)” I slipped my fingers over his wrist, “see, you don’t have a pulse,” I announced.

With that he said, “hug me!” I wrapped my arms around his tall slender body and squeezed him. “Now take my pulse,” he said.

I laughed. He was occasionally able to shine like a star, but I was,” the older, more experienced woman.” I wrote.

“ Ha!,” He laughs, reading over my shoulder, arms folded, feet spread apart in the sand, striking his favorite “King and I pose.” It was part of our ritual folklore.

Fate plays a hand in my life. I make plans, and watch as they crumble, not passively either. I run to the disaster, as if it were a wall under construction, built by some impatient person who caused this defect. The plaster is sliding. I run to hold it in place, it shifts, and slides to the floor anyway.

Looking out towards the ocean and sky and night sky I see the rich white milky way, and silently remember how we are but a small part of that galaxy. The water is deep, mysterious before me, powerful. I look back at myself, I am a speck of sand on a beach. I wonder why I even try to make plans sometimes. As I plan an ending, Jake plans a different one.
“ I am buying a small condo in San Miguel and moving,” I say. "I have signed the papers, the offer has been accepted, I am remodeling, I am eager to go on.”

“ I will help you remodel,” he says, “ I am moving to San Miguel.”

“ You are not moving to San Miguel, but I will invite you to a farewell dinner.”

“The beginning of many,” he says.

“”yes, I will have many dinners, many friends over, male friends,” I say, smiling demurely, picking the feathers from my teeth.

“ I ‘ll get rid of them all,” he says, feel apart, arms folded, eyes sparkling, a smile spreading across his face.

As I type in these lines, the realtor calls, “The owner of the condo who accepted your offer has a problem, she has declared bankruptcy.”

I am mystified, rattled, “What are you saying?”

“She won’t be selling her condo after all.”

Where do I go from here, I wonder? I run to the wall, the plaster is sliding; I reach to hold it in place. I am chicken little, The sky is falling, the big dipper tilts, a crack appears in the night sky, a strange light appears, as though someone is cutting and pasting the pieces of my life into an indistinguishable form. Nothing is familiar anymore, except the unfamiliar. I go through the motions of living, trying to rebuild, yet like Pinocchio jerked around by strings, the messsages I get are mixed just enough to keep me interested, confused, and more and more sad all the time.



copyright 1999 Sherry M Stewart

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.