One thought

This is about to be one of “those” blog posts which should likely be several blog posts instead of just one. And, likely it will be a post which should be honed, and re-written and corrected and re-considered before it’s posted. But, you know I won’t do that. I won’t do that because I am thoroughly undisciplined; which is why I now own a dog. Once in awhile I get myself in hand but then something always happens, like, the sun comes up. So, in my completely undisciplined fashion, I’d like to try to string together a bundle of disconnected thoughts, which are really only one thought. Okay, I’ll confess, I think somewhere deep inside of me, I tend to believe that all thoughts are one thought – but that’s another story – I think.

This morning, Bear came to wake me. As I played scruffy with his ears, really attempting to convince him that I wasn’t all that ready to get out of bed, in a flash, Bear looked to me like a hound dog. Really. The night before, when I was playing with him, my eye caught him in a different perspective and he seemed, honest!, to have the face of a Doberman. Over the last several days, I’ve been able to see, clearly, German Shepherd too. And, if you ever have the chance to hang out with Bear for just twenty minutes, you’ll be certain that he’s not Rottweiler at all but one hundred percent Golden Retriever. So, along with all that reading I’ve been doing about dogs, I’ve been thinking an awful lot about history, and genetics, and breeding. And people. And dogs. And dogs and people.

Several nights ago, my neighbor hollered at me from across our yards. He wanted me to know that Bear, although he didn’t call him Bear, is a dangerous animal. He’s a dangerous animal along with four other breeds; Dobermans, Pit Bulls, Chows and wolf hybrids – I believe that he added bulldogs to the mix but I got a little lost and was focused on his fingers as he held them in the air to count the breeds. I suppose I should have been prepared for that. After all, I am the woman who just a year before, refused to make acquaintance with her neighbor’s Pit Bull. I tried to justify myself of course, THAT dog really was mean! (of course it was!) and scared me to death each time I had to walk past his apartment door to get to my own. Then, a few nights later my neighbor hollered at me again. His discourse was longer this time, as though he had rehearsed it. Bear, he said again, was dangerous. And, if Bear ever hurt one of his cats, he’d have Bear put down and then charge me the thousand dollars for the value of his purebred cat. I started to argue. My argument would have gone like this:

1. How can Bear hurt your cat when I never let him off my lead?
   
2. I’m not absolutely positive but in Indianapolis, though it’s never enforced, cats are subject to the same leash laws as are dogs. Is it the same in Seattle? I suspect so; maybe I’ll check. And
3. If you spent one whole thousand dollars on a cat, why do you let it roam free subject to not just my Bear, but every other unconfined dog in the neighborhood (and there are plenty!) not to mention cars and mean kids?

I started to make those arguments and thought better of it. Bear is only a week in my home, and the neighbor was already red-faced and angry – I am not yet certain enough of Bear to trust him if he perceives anger, especially anger directed at me by a stranger. So, I let it go and neighbor stormed inside his home. In a few moments, my neighbor came back out of his home and walked right over to us. Every hair on my body stood at attention, every muscle poised. My hands gripped tight to Bear’s lead when I reminded myself to chill out. I did not want Bear to sense my fear. I sat down in my lawn chair and said something playful to Bear. My neighbor had come to apologize. And within minutes, Bear had charmed him and now he’s hooked. Before long he was playing toss with Bear. Whew. Crisis averted.

Now, my neighbor, ummmm, well, my neighbor is not like me. You know, he drives a big truck, he comes home not quite that sober a lot, he’s loud and he’s brash and he’s well – just not like me at all. While playing with Bear he caught sight of my collection of blue glass through the window. Turns out he’s more like me than I’d have guessed. Well, at least I know that his mother likes blue glass too.

In the last week, I’ve met more people in my neighborhood than I’ve met in the whole year that I’ve lived here. Of course, some of that would be that I now go walking twice a day, every day. Some folks cross the street when they see us coming (I can’t blame them, I would likely do so too) but others slowly and cautiously make their way to us and carefully get to know Bear. They talk to me, but only because Bear can’t talk. I think if he could, they’d probably not bother with me. I know a few folks now by name, and others wave and nod.

I’ve also noticed too some of my own reactions as I walk with Bear. I avoid teenagers; I avoid single men that look scruffy, I definitely avoid others with dogs. And, dare I confess it; I particularly avoid the Muslim women in their long, dark clothing. Wow. That sucks. Really, it does. In fact, the only people that I don’t avoid are white women. That sucks even more. Seriously, I almost can’t type for the tears of shame that arise just now as I recognize that in myself.

Then I have to think; just as Bear seems some days to be Retriever, other days a hound dog and a pointer and other days a playful Spaniel, am I not also, through the mysteries of time and genetics, pretty much the same as all those other people? Was I not the woman deathly afraid of her neighbor’s Pit Bull? Do I not read blogs written by others half way around the world and with cultures vastly different from my own specifically because I find in the blogs of those strangers, the same feelings, pastimes, fears and celebrations, a familiarity? Have I not written that part of why I blog is to celebrate those differences and commonalities? I suppose it’s easier when the strangers live half way around the world, yes?

I bet, if you squished my face, as I squish Bear’s, and look at me in a different light you would find the thug, the American Indian, the Irish, the deeply religious, the deeply fearful and the easily moved by that fear to grip tightly and hold on to what’s mine. Over my lifetime I have fanatically adhered to some pretty crazy religious practices, and I’ve let go of many and replaced them with others. I have been both kind and cruel. A couple of times in my life I have broken the law while other times I cling fiercely to it. On more days than I care to admit, I look more like those scruffy men that I avoid than I look like a working professional. I have a temper that isn’t easily checked and I often speak before I think. I have even walked right past an individual clearly needing help! I’m not so sure, seen from a block or two away, that I’d be anyone you would think that you’d like to meet. I wonder how many folks cross the street to avoid ME?

Of all the religious ideas that I’ve clung to and left behind, one is pretty consistent – Do no harm. I like to think that no matter what else, that is my guiding principle. But, I bet I’m wrong. I bet I’ve done as much harm as most other humans. I’m not so different.

Whether I’m making dolls, or reading books, or concocting strange foods or planting a garden, or walking my dog, it’s really all just one thought and one motive that we all share in common. And I write this on Independence Day. It’s a wonderful day to remember, a day when something new manifested, but at least for me, a day to recall that we really aren’t all that independent at all. Remember, it’s all just one thought.

Meet Bear and some thoughts on being pack leader

Here he is. Bear. Right? BEAR!

Bear came into my life for a number of reasons. For one, I just wanted a pet. I looked around, I considered birds, I considered cats. Truth is, I just like dogs, and I felt the need for the special companionship a dog brings. So, why this Bear! Why this huge dog? First, I intended to look for a pug. I really loved Monty. Pugs are expensive! Then, I met Bear's owner. We had so much in common. I was, and am, convinced that there is a greater purpose to our meeting than simply Bear. She and I share so much in common; we have raised birds, we are both have military life running in our blood, we seem to share a common spirituality and she has a daughter who rides Dresage. And! She didn't want a fortune for Bear. In fact, Bear comes to me with every accoutrement known to dogs and she asked not one penney to complete the transaction. Now, while I recognize that dogs have value, and breeding dogs for profit is a worthy enterprise (my parents did, but a bit more about that, later), I had grown weary of Craigs List dog owners attempting to sell an eight year old dog for $500 plus dollars, expecting a return on what they'd invested. I see an animal's welfare as an owner's responsibility and not an investment to be returned. Bear's owner seemed to agree.

At first glance, some would say (and I'd not fault them!) that Bear is too much for me. Well, he's a Bear that's for sure. Having been raised on Carl (you all know Carl, don't you?), I have never believed that Rottweiler's are inherently evil. And, my parents raised German Long-haired daschunds and I can assure you, at least one of them was vicious, and I mean VICIOUS, despite being so small. Then, there's the not-yet-told story of how one of my neighbor's has entered my home now TWICE! uninvited, Bear seemed like a pretty good idea.

So, I pondered all the possibilities, and since Bear's owner was willing, at the slightest need, to accept Bear back into her home, I decided to go with it. And here he is.

Now, there are some who would say, and I'd be right there with them, that Bear should be immediately under my complete control. Dogs like bear are not often shown mercy should some mishap occur. Bear has some training under his belt, and he's mostly a very good dog, but he's still a two year old and in truth, Bear needs some work. So, I've read everything I can get my hands on. And (smile everyone), I've leaned heavily on the advice of one popular dog guru.

And who wouldn't? He believes that most of life's difficulties can be solved by being centered and calm. Who doesn't? I sure do, even when I can't quite achieve that goal. I understand, and accept the concept of being my dog's pack leader. Well....mostly. Some parts of it feel absolutely wrong to me. I quieted my objection by telling myself that's because I am girlie, I want my dog to be my baby. But no, that's not it. I recognize that in many, if not most situations, my animal should be absolutely under my control. I am acutely aware of the bad reputation held by Rottweilers and I am completely sympathetic with the immediate fear that passersby feel when they encounter my dog in the park. I want to indicate, by every gesture, that my animal is absolutely controlled. I cannot remove any one's fear, but at least I hope to allow them to pass by without experiencing an intense fear. So, why do I still feel not quite right about being Bear's ultimate and absolute pack leader?

I was able to identify a few of my objections, couldn't quite justify them, but I was able to identify them. The first is that I am not a dog (not today anyway). I am a human, Bear lives with me, a human. Bear does not live in his natural, unintruded upon by humans, state. Bear lives with people. People are not dogs and try as we might, we cannot be dogs (not as a general rule anyway). I suspect, that to dogs, the pack leader is very nearly God. I have no desire to be God. In fact, are there not times when the dog's instinct is more on target than my own?

Having identified these objections, I still was unable to justify them. I mean, my popular dog Guru is so handsome (pauses while all the women readers nod vigorously) and so on target, so happy, cheerful and CALM. Then today, I found it. I read the words of a New York Times writer who had obediently followed our Guru's example. All of his dog's bad habits disappeared. He was amazed. It works! Yes, so many of his animal's not so great issues seemed to be resolved.

But......(you knew there was a but, didn't you?)

So did many of his pet's lovable characteristics. No more running to the door with butt wagging, no more jumping up on the bed demanding to go out NOW! No more silly antics. No more of what makes the relationship between animals and their human caretakers so much fun.

As I type, Bear is letting me know that he wants to go outside where the grandchildren are playing. Bear is bringing his head up underneath my hand so that I cannot type. As Pack Leader, I can say, "NO! Not now! Down Bear!" But, I think Bear is right; it's time to go play with the children. And so, off we go. But tonight, every time Bear pulls on that lead during our walk, I'm going to turn and go the other way. Bear will learn that as his human owner (not his pack leader), I choose. I choose right now though, to listen to the wisdom of my pet. I'm not God, not today anyway.

Cheers!
~Lee

Slinking back in

I feel like I am sneaking - I've been a bad blogger, a slacker. I've bailed on Wish Casting Wednesday and Tarot Thursday. I've squinted my eyes each week as the reports come in and I see that pretty much no one stops by here anymore - and why would you? There's nothing new to see. I feel like I need a note from the principal in order to return to class. I can come in, can't I? For a post or two maybe?

So okay - there have been some issues going on around here. They are pretty big issues and in and out of the issues I'm struggling with being very depressed and feeling a little helpless to resolve, or even begin to address those issues. Occasionally I speak about the issues in my life - this time there are so many that it's hard to begin! But I will. (You knew that, didn't you?)

I can tell you that one of the issues is my health. I find myself getting really angry about it as I type. Really angry. I have this groovy tumor that's not going to make me REALLY SICK, but it's going to make me feel really icky, experience lots of pain and try my very resolve to get out of bed each morning. But it's not going to allow me to stop working, bail out on carrying the groceries or garner any sympathy whatsoever (I mean really!). Then there's that fibromyalgia thing and we won't even begin to discuss my irritation with that little buggaboo. And! (Might as well get it all out!) about a month ago or so, I started having panic attacks. Like I needed something else! Ya, I'm miffed.

But, anger is pointless unless it leads to right action. Not to mention that the cumulative effect of hosting that anger in my body has certainly added to the symptoms of stress which have so multiplied in the last several months. I have been exhausted beyond measure, and I've experienced the greatest pain that I can ever recall. So, in the last few months I've been trying to make some changes - and for me anyway, change works in fits and spurts. I've not been as successful as I'd hoped to be, I've not absolutely stopped drinking soda and I confess that I've not absolutely stopped smoking. But! For both of those items I've cut so far back that were I not diligently honest, I could fake you out and let you believe I'd stopped. It's much improved and as a result, I'm feeling a little bit better. Not a lot, but more than a little. Issues are always easier to accept and resolve (or at least contemplate creative resolutions) when you're not feeling physically terrible too. Poor health I think can be the beginning of a vicious cycle; and I'm trying not to interrupt that cycle.

The fun part - and I say this just in case there's anyone reading that is considering making a change - is this: Once you begin, it doesn't take a lot for the snowball to begin gathering it's own weight. The positive feelings that come from just a two baby steps provide the impetus to take the next few baby steps. For instance, drinking water (I get these groovy reminders from HassleBot every couple of hours to get a glass of water - you should try it!) - once you do it for a day or two, your body begins to love you for it and beg for more. Honest! I find now that I have just as great an urge to get a glass of water as I once did to FIND A SODA NOW! I wake up each morning and now, rather than force myself to pour a glass of water, I MUST have water. I can't say, that when facing a particularly stressful and difficult moment I don't want to retreat to my old habit (and still, often I do!) but at least I have added one positive habit. Not so bad. And, the little bit of feeling better is just fuel to the fire. (whispers, don't be afraid of change). My oldest daughter, Satori Marie (google Satori, find out what it means, it's SO perfect for this blog post!) says that the same thing will happen with exercise. She says that it won't take long before you wake and find that your body MUST MOVE. I'm not sure I believe her! But I suppose I should because starting tonight, my new walking companion, Bear, is coming to live with me! I'll write about Bear another time, but he's going to be my coach and get me moving each morning. I can't wait and I sure hope Satori is right.

A couple of things happened during my haitus which would have made great blog posts. One was this beautiful orchid you see up there. My friend had given me that orchid as a housewarming gift when I moved in here a year ago (It's really been a year since I posted about that donkey!) Several months afterwards, it dropped it's flowers and looked icky. Now, if you knew me much, when I tell you the next words, you will laugh. You will think, "Yup! That's Lee!" It looked dead, it really did! And, every week, when I watered my plants, I'd say, "I need to empty that dirt and make better use of that pretty pot." And every week, I never found time. And (this is the part that should make you smile) every week, as I stood there, watering can in hand, tending to orchid's neighbors; I was unable to resist giving him just a little water too. I mean, I was right there, eh? What could it hurt? Yeah, I know he's dead, he's really dead and sorry looking, but it's just a little water and it doesn't hurt anything. Then - several weeks ago - TADA!! There bloomed that incredible flower. Is that beautiful? It was like a sign to me. In the midst of all this rotten stuff, life goes on, beauty exists, and there are lovely surprises. It's a simple surprise, just a little flower. And in its simplicity,it is perfect. Don't you think? I welcome more of those surprises into my life!

I'll leave you with that thought. I think I'll be back soon; I'm feeling a little better and some of the issues are not quite screaming at me in the face. Still there but more like whispering behind my back. And I have to tell you all about Bear!

Cheers!
~Lee

Avoiding other stuff

I don't feel like blogging. But...I need to. Perhaps as a diversion; who knows why. I rarely speak of bigger issues on my blog. I'm content to read those who are brighter and more articulate than I. But today, in the midst of all my other issues, I happened to glance upon this photo. Isn't this just an exquisite photo? I don't know lots of things. But there are a few things I do know. And one of them is this:

I cannot judge what others do; and I fail, but try hard not to calculate the measure of another human based on circumstance that I may not understand. So, I often am unable to know the measure of a man, or a woman. But I do believe that I know some gifts that make a man, or a woman more trusthworthy, more honorable, more deserving of my belief.

The man who loves, respects and honors his wife is far more likely to respect and honor his commitments to others. We speak of fidelity as though it only pertains to marriage, but the one who understands fidelity is likely to be faithful to his friends, his colleges, his job, his community and even his country.

Does this man adore his wife? Oh! To me it just swirls all around them in each photo that I see of them together. There is respect and love, commitment, honor and faithfulness. And today, for one reason or another, it makes me very happy. I am happy not just that we have such a man, with the support and love of his life partner to lead us, but that such a marriage is possible - amidst what must be greater challenge than most of us will know. Is that inspiring or what?

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming, which means that I'm still on haitus.

Enjoy a wonderful weekend everyone!

Popping In

Hello everyone. I've been pretty absent; as you can see. I can't even remember what I last posted. My life has taken itself into some intense times and I've just been too exhausted to sit and share - though I think about it all the time. I think I'll be back in a little while. I even received an award that I've not properly acknowledged. Soon, I hope. I read your blogs and think about you all often. I once in awhile update my twitter, though I've been really too tired to do even that. But, it's something and an abbreviated "catch-up" until I can compose something more meaningful and manage to write. I hope you'll keep checking back and I'll share with you as soon as the energy is there!

Soon.

LeeA

Wishcasting Wednesday

I'm so amazed that Jamie keeps coming up with these wonderful, provocative questions. This week she asks us, "What do you wish to connect to?" Ha!

That list got long. It got really long, really fast. My partner, my daughter, my employer, my profession, that Cosmic Conduit, a woman healer,my garden.....yes, it got to be a really long list and it left me in despair. Suddenly I realized, I am disconnected! Really. I am. So..I did what I tend to do; I wallowed in the despair for awhile. I let that feeling sink in all the way to the bone marrow. I am disconnected. Thanks, Jamie for giving me a moment to really feel it, to acknowledge that truth and honor it. I am disconnected. And, I need to get connected. NOW.

To what? To whom? To a place? To a home? Maybe a friend or two? Source? Wallow, wallow, wallow some more. When it hit me this morning. I am not disconnected! I can never be disconnected. Not from Source, not from God, not from All That Is. Never. So if I can't be disconnected, what's going on? What is this despair that's been floating around me for so very long now?

A long time ago, seems like lifetimes ago, I had a vision. It was a beautiful image, descending to me this perfect, pulsing, Light-Radiating hand. I was told to join my own hand. It's been a long time, but you see, this hand had to do with holding one of my hands while the other of my hands held my client. Over time, I stepped into this ritual of seeing "The Hand" clasping my own before I initiated any kind of work with clients. That hand came back to me today and I realized, very clearly, that I am the client. I need to connect with me. I want to somehow connect with that playful, fearless, creative woman that once was me.

Partner often reminds me how I speak of all the things I "used" to do. I used to be a spinner, I used to garden, I used to do lots of things, I used to bake and sew. I don't want to do all those things again. Nope. Really. Not all of them; but I do want to connect to that woman who tried things, who learned and succeeded and created. I'm not sure where she went, but I'd sure like to make introductions and re-new that connection.

I believe that many of us experience disconnect as we age. Many of the pinnacles of my life happened in youth. Oh, I'm not just talking about the birthing of our children but I am remembering the explosive creativity, the profound awareness and spiritual growth that accompanied that time. I mean, I think I had my peak spiritual experiences while I sat with crying children, washed diapers and danced Maypoles. I'm convinced that I once stopped a speeding car soley by the influence of my will, just inches from an errant daugther. I remember spining pounds and pounds of wool with babies on my lap and experiencing the deepest meditation I've experienced or can imagine experiencing.

Some days, getting older seems a bit dull - does it not? Yet, I don't want to wash diapers and only rarely do I wish to achieve the feat of calming a squirming child while simultaneously attempting to accomplish something I want to do. What then? I don't want to be young again - but I think I'm beginning to understand that I do wish to dance with my younger self, to somehow "bring her forward." I want to remember living with no reserve, with nothing held back - the self that danced before konwing that occasionally the world is painful and unkind. I'd like to connect with her and maybe she can connect with the older woman and somehow create what I believe others have called the Wise Woman. I didn't realize that until I typed the words just now. I'd like to connect my young mama self with my older malee self. Yes, That's what I'd like to connect - the two parts of this whole woman.(Just so some of you know, I backspaced over the Cr_n_ word because I am just simply not ready to accept that yet.)

Thanks Jamie.


I'll explain the photos tomorrow!

Cheers - ~Lee

Wishcasting Wednesday

I find it a hilarious, cosmic, booming moment of laughter that questions, asked by virtual strangers, can all at once call me into a brand new place, and send me reeling into the crevices and caves of my own past. This time, I don’t even know why. I will set my intention that by the end of this story, I will begin to imagine why – whether or not the proper words will allow themselves to be yet articulated. (You know of course, that of course I damned well know why; I just don’t really want to know, but I do, and maybe so do you.)

I read the question and immediately, before there was time to create my own thousand reasons why this question should be difficult, I had a memory. It was a layered memory, one built atop the other, with connections I’d not made in my every day waking life.

In the gateway memory, it is a Sunday morning. I have quietly entered our small chapel and had glanced around in haste at faces not yet very familiar to me. In the dark, I could make out a few features; a few familiar profiles which allowed me to feel safe in my stocking feet in this dark place. There sat Chip, our long lost friend, and a few others who had been friendly and kind to me in the passing months since I’d been attending these services. The incense was heavy in the air, not all that pleasant to me. Whether the fragrance, or the instinctive return Home that I’m sure my daughter felt, she rolled and danced inside me, making it a bit uncomfortable to sit in this dark and still strange place. I was supposed to be meditating; I was supposed to be preparing myself for Holy Communion. I remember none of that. I only remember being hot, feeling heavy, and struggling to remain seated while Satori danced and punched inside of me. Finally the Priest arrived. Finally, there would be something to occupy and direct my thoughts.

There are more gaps and I remember nothing of his opening statements, nothing of the songs that must have been sung or the prayers that must have been offered. But I woke up as he told this story…somewhere in the middle of it I suppose, for I recall neither the beginning nor the conclusion. Father Michael had asked us whether or not we recalled a particular television show. How odd, I thought, only a newcomer, I knew enough to know that these folks didn’t particularly “approve” of mass mind television. So those conflicts must have demanded my attention.

He recalled, for us, a particular episode of Kung Fu, when a group of men had happened upon David Carradine’s character and had demanded to know his occupation. After a moment of silence Carradine answered, “I am a Priest.” Of course, we all knew that. Father allowed a dramatic moment of silence, as Priests and other charismatic speakers are wont to do for effect and then he continued. “Some viewers, “Father Michael said, “might have missed that at the moment of answer, Carradine, our beloved Priest, was shoveling pig shit.”

He really said that. Right there in church! At that moment, I could swear that I’d seen that episode. And, in truth, whenever I’ve told this story before, I always leave the listener to believe that I indeed, remember the episode. 30 years have passed and I’m not so sure now that I really do recall that particular television moment. I can see it clearly, I can hear the words spoken…but then, I can also smell the pig shit mingling with the incense, so I’m not really sure that I didn’t create the memory on the spot. I’d like to come clean about that now, because I think that some readers might not realize that what we imagine that we remember, what we create when we attempt to remember, is likely the more precious nugget weighed against the proof of mere fact. I remember that at some point he said, quite without elegance, that those of us who would long for the Priesthood (and all are called to it) would do well to remember that quite a lot of time is spent shoveling pig shit. Then we sang, then we prayed, then we left.

So – I guess, my friends who still read, that I am wishing for that Priest to show up on my doorstep and shovel out some shit for me. Eh? Except then there’s that nagging detail, that small, priceless truth...

Each of us is called to be our own Priest.

Where’s that shovel?

Cheers and happy shoveling, ~LeeA

Oh...P.S. The fascination just doesn't stop...isn't it also interesting that I'm "behind" in writing my next Tarot Thursday post - and that card would be, oh, umm, I dunno, the Mage?