What's On My Mind ?

A Good-Bye and A Hallelujah

2010-11-27T18:41:00.000-08:00

This has been an introspective week, or even month. My very dear friend, whose blog link appears here, "lost" her mother this week. (Lost is such a strange term in the situation of passing on or transitioning, isn't it?) Kathy's mother was the same era as my mother; they were less than 3 1/2 years apart, with my mother being born in the fall of 1910, and Kathy's mother in 1914. My mother has been gone for a decade now, and the emotions still catch me off guard. I must say, losing one's mother is something that one never gets over, no matter what the relationship was.
   So today during the funeral services, I was feeling especially tender and vulnerable. It was a lovely and poignant memorial, with the family sharing the tributes, providing the music, and making everyone appreciate being there. Kathy had the honor and privilege of caring for her mother in her home for the past several months, and I was touched and inspired by the loving way Kathy surrendered all her own needs to unselfishly and beautifully serve her 96 year old mother. She was an example of service and love, and I was keenly aware that I could not have done what she did. As I listened to all the speakers, I was treated to an understanding of why Kathy has so many talents and interests, as well as outright gifts. She was the third and last daughter, and in that position in the family, she got to witness and learn from all of the others, and she has been a stellar student. I must say, Kathy is one of the most exceptionally interesting, unique, and talented women I know. I could see where she got her love of poetry and writing, of performing, her musical talents, and her amazing way with people.   It has been said that life can only be understood by looking backwards, but it must be lived forward, the message in "It's a Wonderful Life."  We all need the reminder sometimes of how amazing life is, how much we need each other, how we are all connected, how our lives intertwine and affect everyone around us. I must say, there was such love in evidence at the funeral, and maybe that's the real gift in them. I have had three funerals this month, all close friends and relatives, and I guess I'm pondering my own mortality. Since we never know from one moment to the next, we need to pay attention to the present and make it count.
    Well, after being nostalgic and wistful, I came home to a forwarded email from a mutual friend of mine and Kathy's. Dear Mary Ann sent this, and as I watched it, I came totally unglued and melted on the spot.   You may not know that I sang in the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, as did Kathy's mother, that singing is a passion for us; Kathy and I first met in the U of U a cappella choir. Kathy went on to become a local opera star.   I went the folk singing route with my husband, and then remained in the local choirs.
In this holiday season, there is only one piece of music that speaks straight to my heart. The Hallelujah Chorus, celebrating the birth of Christ, might also be thought to herald the birth of a human into the next abode; the leaving here is a birth elsewhere, with much rejoicing and embracing.   Who knows? I'd like to think it.
What a gift.   Thank you, Mary Ann and Kathy, and all of you, for the reminders of love, friendship and connectedness we all share.
Enjoy each moment. And tell a family member and a friend how much they mean to you.
(I hope I tell my own loved ones enough times that they KNOW it to be true.) xoxo
The Holidays are upon us. Let's use them wisely.

The FAMOUS Grandma English Thanksgiving Jello Salad

2010-11-20T13:54:00.000-08:00

John's mother, Mary Jim, was not known for her cooking. Rather, she was famous for always serving Kentucky Fried Chicken dinners every gathering, except for Thanksgiving. When it was her turn to cook, she was THE BEST. Her turkeys were the moistest (is that a real word?), her stuffing was "over the moon", to use Allison's words, and everyone loved the Cranberry Jello Salad.   She had to make two of them, beautifully molded and set, because we all took seconds and thirds, and it was better than dessert. I'll bet Kathy's family has a written recipe, but somehow I never wrote it down, probably because I thought Grandma English would always be around to make it.   So, this year I googled recipes, and found a pretty good facsimile.   If anyone in the English Family has the "real" recipe, please let me know.
Here are the (approximate) ingredients. They change, depending on what's in the cupboard or refrigerator.
Raspberry Jello, large box
can crushed pineapple, small, undrained
can of cranberry sauce, either whole berry or jellied.
1/2 - 1 cup each of chopped cranberries and walnuts, with optional apples and/or celery.
Use only two cups boiling water. The rest of the liquid comes from the pineapple and cranberry sauce.
Dissolve the jello, add the cranberry sauce until mixed, stir in the rest of the ingredients. Set.
If you like topping, once the jello is set up, you can add the following:
Whip together 1 c. sour cream, 1 pkg, cream cheese, 1 c. sugar.
Dissolve small box of lemon jello with 1 c. boiling water.
Whip the cream mix with the jello mix.
Spread on top of the cranberry jello salad.
Or, whip cream, add sugar and vanilla.   Or any combination of the above.
Set up.
Devour.
Be grateful for family traditions while they last.
Happy Thanksgiving, with gratitude, to my family.

Poetry, a Passion

2010-10-28T09:01:00.000-07:00

I have a new Kindle, which I won as the grand prize at a raffle. It's a mixed blessing, because in truth, I LOVE the printed page, I LOVE to hold a book, I love paper and ink. In trying to figure out how to put it to good use, I realized it would make a fabulous reference tool, so I've been downloading poetry books. One fabulous find was a book called Saved By a Poem, the transformative power of words, by Kim Rosen. It's a powerful book, highly recommended, and makes the case for memorizing poetry and sharing it.
I probably did not know it until the past few years, but I have always been passionate about poetry. It feeds my soul, untangles my mind, reminds me of what is important, and describes things in words that I could never identify in my heart. Because I was always an elementary school teacher, I spent most of my poetry years in nursery rhymes, fairy tales, folk tales, and fiction. But along the way, I collected children's poetry books, (Shel Silverstein, Jack Prelutsky, Arnold Lobel, Jean Little). Hidden in the volumes were gems of the classics, which eventually led me to the "grown-up" poets. My favorites are Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Naomi Shihab Nye, Antonio Machado, and oh, so many more. But one poet spans the ages and the decades: Judith Viorst, author extraordinaire of both children's and adult poetry, and her newest book of the decade is Unexpectedly Eighty, following her other classics, I'm Too Young to be Seventy, Suddenly Sixty, Forever Fifty, How Did I Get to Be Forty, It's Hard to be Hip Over Thirty, When Did I Stop Being Twenty, and ...ta da...If I Were in Charge of the World and Other Worries. She has led the way for me through her poetry, and made growing older a bit easier to face. She perfectly captures life in all it's shades, twists, turns, ups and downs, and in the lastest, she has put down what I feel about being a grandmother. (Except I'm not quite as clear and mature, which is all right, since I'm only in my sixties, meaning I'll still push vegetables and have them pick up a few toys). It's classic:

Among My Grandchildren

While I may point out, from time to time, that cheating at Pick-Up-Sticks
Deprives them of that inner satisfaction they can only achieve by playing fair and square,
And while, from time to time, I may deliver a little lecture
On not hurting people's feelings and changing their underpants,
And while I would never hesitate to prohibit the waterboarding of younger brothers,
Or discourage discussion of farting during meals,
I've decided that, for the most part, it is not my responsibility
To improve my grandchildren's character
Or their hygiene.

Nor am I going to urge them to eat their vegetables.
Or tell them they need to look people straight in the eye,
Or remind them to pick up their toys and use a tissue not their sleeve and stop interrupting.
And though I hope they'll be taught
To be modest, responsible, generous, patient, and help set the table,
That isn't my job.

For I have chosen to be a three-desserts grandmother,
A yes-you-can-watch-another-video grandmother,
A why-don't-we-just-forget-your-bath-tonight grandmother,
A clap-and-cheer-and-shower-praise-on-them grandmother,
A grandmother who seditiously whispers in her grandchild's ear,
Don't tell your mom I let you do this--she'll kill me.
A grandmother who insists that it is the duty of the older generations
To improve and instruct the younger generations,
Except--except when I'm among my grandchildren.

*^*^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^**^*^*^*^*^*^*^^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
And just for fun, I'm adding one more, because it makes me laugh.

E-Mail Is A Wonderful Way to Stay In Touch With the Children

They used to never write and never phone.
These days they also never e-mail back.
No matter how adorable my tone,
Each you've-got-mail is viewed as an attack.
My queries: "Do you hydrate?"
And reminders: "Careless brushing leads to plaque."
Though all well meant, are viewed as an attack.

In order to provide them with a batch
Of articles I feel compelled to share,
I often, when I e-mail, click "attach."
But do they ever download? Not a prayer.
E. coli--where it's hiding.
Mortgage frauds--the latest victims.
And the theft of your identity--beware!
These must be read, but are they? Not a prayer.

My need to guide my children is intense,
But frankly they don't seem to give a d---.
Indeed, they've mobilized a strong defense--
They're sending all my e-mails straight to spam.
I'm trying to alert them
To the risks of daily living,
And to every epidemic, threat, and scam.
But I think they've turned their mother into spam.

xoxoxo

Traveler's Return

2010-08-24T10:34:00.000-07:00

The journeyers returned in the nick of time. Less than five minutes after packing up the car, the heavens opened up, rain and hail fell, the temperature plummeted and the wind blew like crazy. The weather for the trip was spectacular, as you can see from the photos of the happy camper....Champ, whose name was appropriate.

John's Solo Adventures

2010-08-21T10:44:00.000-07:00

As you may know, John is a nature addict. Anything near water, mountains, meadows, or gardens qualifies as a "fix". After the pacemaker implant two years ago, I've been reluctant to let him venture out on his own, especially since each year, his heart rhythm goes into atrial fib without him knowing it, and he can go for months until the semi-annual check-up shows he's been out of whack for months. This week he had planned to go on Tuesday to the Uintah's, until he found out on Monday he needed another cardioversion, scheduled for Wednesday. Well, after dutifully following the doctor's orders to stay quiet for 24 hours, we got up yesterday, drove to Grand View Trail head, past Defa's Dude Ranch,

where he and his little buddy companion, Champ, took off for a 3 day solo backpack and fishing expedition through Grandaddy, Fish Hatchery, and Margo Lakes. (Is it really a solo if the dog goes along?)

I'll be picking him up at Mirror Lake, hopefully in fine form, filled with fish and fun. This will take care of his addiction for two weeks, until Lake Powell, then two weeks later to Zion's for Canyoneering.

Annual photos of the Garden

2010-08-10T10:43:00.000-07:00

John is re-roofing the old shed, and when I was standing on it, I had to take a picture of the garden. It looked so artistic as well as delicious. This is one of our better gardening years, except that it was several weeks late due to the cold and rainy spring.

The lower left center above shows the new zucchini variety we're trying....it's huge with gigantic elephant-ear sized leaves, but the zucchini is not; it's crispy and serrated. The corn was planted after the spinach was gone, so it's grown really fast in the heat. And the beans are plentiful.

And I have to put a few of my flower pictures in, too. The daylilies are gorgeous.

Thank you to Sarah and Emily

2010-07-09T08:36:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it's difficult having family living so far away. I feel I miss so much. Sarah has been great at keeping us up to date with her cell phone camera, but I like to see their little faces every day. Thank you, Sarah, for arranging this cute photo montage for me to hang on the wall. And thanks to Emily for putting it all together and hand delivering it. We love it.

What a Difference A Day Makes

2010-05-25T19:38:00.000-07:00

Below photo was taken on May 24, 2010 at 10:00 a.m. in front of the house.

These pictures were taken 24 hours later.

Been Too Long

2010-05-07T12:30:00.000-07:00

We received a new T-shirt for John. Thanks, Jonathon. It's so much fun and the slogan on the tag was a hit at a dinner party we went to. It made our day.

The funniest line is "The older I get, the better I was." Ain't it the truth?
Here is the real live model of the shirt.

And the (now World Famous) Westminster Community Chorale had our Spring Concert. Here are our pre-concert photos.

Dad is so happy because he memorized all the songs.

Yes, that is John in a tie and sport coat. (Borrowed from Josh, thank you.)
We had to wear black and white and blue.   Our director/conductor teaches at BYU.
I am so happy because I never have to sing any of the songs again.
Except that after two weeks, they're still rattling around in the ole noggin.   I've been trying to clear my brain by singing "It's a Small World afterall". That oughta do it.

OLD GUYS RULE !
Love to all

Celebrating Poetry

2010-04-07T08:28:00.000-07:00

April is poetry month, and I'm reading through my collection again. Here is a beautiful sentiment, by W. B. Yeats, which is love and tender romance.

Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and the half light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams under your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W. B. Yeats (1865-1939)
"He Wishes For the Cloths of Heaven"
from The Collected Works of W. B. Yeats

Remembering the Olden Days

2010-03-23T10:13:00.000-07:00

Today is my birthday. Usually I wouldn't announce it, but someone sent me a timely reminder of what life was like when I was growing up. It's an email that's been around a few times, and I'm sure everyone has seen it, but for someone like me who is the first round Baby Boomer generation after WW II, it was nostalgic to read again. And it's so true. Yes, times have changed, people have changed, the nature of the world has changed and that is reality in action. Everything changes. Except one thing: I love my family and friends, and am grateful to be alive. Happy Birthday to me. Another year older. I don't want to go back and live it all over again.

No matter what our kids and the new generation think about us,

WE ARE AWESOME !!!!

OUR LIFE IS LIVING PROOF !!!!

To Those of Us Born

1930 - 1979

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE

1930's, 40's, 50's,

60's and 70's!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who
took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing,

tuna from a can

And didn't get tested for diabetes

while they were pregnant.

Then after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our

Tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.
(Marie's note: Maybe this explains something.)

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and

when we rode our bikes, we had baseball caps

Not helmets on our heads.

As infants and children, we would ride in cars

with no car seats,

no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.

Riding in the back of a pick- up truck

on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose

and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And, we weren't overweight.. WHY?

Because we were always outside playing......

that's why!

We would leave home in the morning

and play all day,

As long as we were back
when the streetlights came on...

No one was able to reach us all day.

And, we were OKAY.

We would spend hours building our go-carts

out of scraps

And then ride them down the hill,

only to find out we forgot the brakes.

After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not have Play stations, Nintendo's and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVD's,

No surround-sound or CD's, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms, no facebook or twitter.

WE HAD FRIENDS and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth and there were no lawsuits from these accidents.
We would get spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping pong paddles, or just a bare hand and no one would call child services to report abuse.

We ate worms and mud pies made from dirt,
and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games

With sticks and tennis balls and,

although we were told it would happen,

we did not put out very many eyes..

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house

and knocked on the door or rang the bell,

or just walked in and talked to them. Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team.

Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment. Imagine That.

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk takers, problem solvers and inventors ever.

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all..

If YOU are one of them, CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to

Grow up as kids, before the lawyers and the government regulated

So much of our lives for our own good.

While you are at it, forward it to your kids so they will know

How brave and lucky their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it ?

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SARAH DEAR!

2009-12-04T21:07:00.000-08:00

Here's to a very happy, merry birthday to Sarah, the best mother east of Rock Springs, Wyoming. She's the most wonderful wife to Jonathon, and daughter-in-law to us, that anyone could dream up. We can't possibly think of enough superlative words to describe her, and even if we could use up all those words, you wouldn't understand how we really feel about her. I thank my lucky stars and every other Source of Good in the universe for Sarah showing up in our lives. We are richly blessed by our association with her, and we thank Jonathon for having the good sense to snap her up when she came along. We love you Sarah! And may you have many, many more happy birthdays.

Family Traditions

2009-11-15T13:47:00.000-08:00

We were eating Sunday dinner early today, and I had a moment of nostalgia from the days when church times were split, and we had Sunday School in the morning and Sacrament meeting at night. Since the family was all home in the afternoons, that is when we had our big meal; usually roast, potatoes, and something else I wouldn't eat (I was the picky eater of the world until my children and grandchildren were born...must be genetic).
Well, here is the tradition that brought the attack of nostalgia to me: Sunday evening, after church, we always had grilled cheese sandwiches, tomato soup, and then! TA DA popcorn to eat while watching the Sunday night movie, brought to you by Kennecott Copper. (Big Dramatic Music).
Now you know what my comfort food is. And it only takes a gentle nudge to bring on the nostalgia if I think of grilled cheese. It takes so little to make one happy, doesn't it?
Love to all.

A Fall Trip to Boulder

2009-10-28T20:58:00.001-07:00

We squeaked in a last fall journey to Escalante last week, just before the winter weather arrived.
Here is a preview on the road from Torrey to Boulder, which has so many micro-climates, we didn't know what kind of weather awaited around the bend. On one side of the summit it was snowing, and a half mile the other side, it was dry and sunny.
We stayed at Boulder Mountain Lodge, a lovely resort on the Burr Trail, and here is the morning sunrise outside our window.

This is the building our room was in, and you see the dog run to the lower left. Yes, we took the dog, because they had "dog-friendly rooms", and at only $15.00 per day extra, it was still cheaper than putting Champ in doggy-daycare.

Our favorite hike was along (and through) the Escalante River, where we viewed a Natural Bridge, an arch and Anasazi ruins, complete with petroglyphs. We were prepared with our neoprene socks and mesh hiking shoes to keep our feet, well, un-sandy from the river bottom.

Here is a view from the petroglyph site, looking down on the Escalante River. The cottonwoods were spectacular, neon-gold, backlit, breathtaking.

We took the slow way home, through Kodachrome Basin, and hiked the Panorama Loop trail.
Here is the view from our lunchtime stop at the wonderful little campground.

We're sure this is the prototype for the gnome in the French movie, Amelie. (no, not John.)
The funniest part was when we got home very late, put the dog to bed, and the next morning, he went outside, ran back in the house, climbed the stairs and put himself back in his cage and wouldn't come out for several hours. I guess he'd had enough of hiking in the cactus. Eight mile hikes each day pretty much did me in, too, and I was envious that the dog could go back to bed.
love to all. xo

Edited post Chocolate Fudge Zucchini Cake (zucchini optional)

2009-08-18T14:24:00.000-07:00

After eating all of Jonathon's birthday cake without sharing, I have the guilts, so I thought I'd post the recipe (from scratch, of course). Even without frosting, it resembles German Chocolate Cake, because of the coconut. Don't be tempted to leave out the nuts, unless an allergy is involved. Let me know if you make it, and how you like it.

Cake: Preheat oven to 350, grease and flour a 12-cup Bundt pan

1 c. butter, melt on low with 1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa powder.
Beat 2 large (or 3 small) eggs with 2 c. sugar, 1 c. buttermilk, 2 TB. vanilla extract.
Add 2c. flour, 1 tsp. baking soda, 1 tsp. baking powder, 1/4 tsp. salt +/-, and 1 c. shredded coconut.
Add the butter/cocoa mix, 1 to 1 1/2 c. shredded zucchini, and 1 c. nuts, chopped.
Blend well. (My batter was quite thick. You could add 1/4 c. water if your zucchini is dry.)
Pour into bundt pan and bake for 40-45 min. Let cool and remove from pan.

Note: Since the batter was quite dense, it took a bit longer to cook at my high altitude. Also, it raised to the top of the Bundt pan, so make sure you grease and flour all the way to the top. Be sure to let it cool a bit before taking from pan. I didn't, and some of it broke away and stuck to the top of the pan. John loved eating that part before dinner.

Since we don't do frosting here, we ate it without. For those who want frosting, here is the recipe:
Melt 1/2 c. butter in saucepan, low. Whisk in 1/4 c. whole milk, 1/2 c. specialty dark cocoa powder, and 2 c. confectioner's sugar. Whisk until glossy. Add 1 TBSP. vanilla extract, pinch salt, and 1 c. shredded coconut. Pour glaze over cake after it's removed from bundt pan. Could serve with ice cream or real whipping cream. Enjoy!!
(p.s.) For those of you who don't know, Jonathon is in Tennessee, and I'm not, which is why I didn't share.)
I've just had a note from my friend, Mary, who sent a hilarious note about her experience. She took it out of the oven, waited 15 minutes, tried to remove it from the pan, and it fell apart all over her and the kitchen. It wasn't done. So she loaded it all back into the pan, put it in the oven, and finished it. They ate it with ice cream on top, and her guests never knew the difference. Suggestion: Let's try this in a rectangular baking dish....just to be safe....or cook it longer in the bundt pan...well greased. xoxox

Out of hibernation for a day

2009-08-17T14:01:00.000-07:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, JONATHON, my first-born son, my favorite son.

I hope your day brings you sunshine, fresh air, health, happiness, success, prosperity, wishes, hopes, dreams, and many, many hugs and kisses from your wonderful family. I made you a chocolate zucchini cake and it was delicious. Thanks for sharing it with us.
....."And many more....."

On Hiatus, Sabbatical, or Summer Vacation

2009-06-26T08:21:00.000-07:00

Wishing you all a nice break from this blog. If you are a regular subscriber, you might want to delete this from your feed, since it will be pretty boring with nothing new showing up. Why, you might ask? No reason, except for lack of motivation and inspiration.
Love to all.
M.

Book Crafts

2009-06-16T09:35:00.001-07:00

Famous Artist's Book Crafter, Daniel Kelm, came to town for a book intensive last week: Two wire-edged bindings and when to use them. We spent 4 solid days crafting this project which morphs into several shapes. The binding in the center is a piano hinge technique, and the rectangles are sewn together with a figure eight pattern, tied with square knots, and super glued and trimmed. You really should check out Daniel's museum exhibition at Smith College.

A Mind-boggling event

2009-06-16T09:27:00.000-07:00

Today, it's our 40th, yes Fortieth, wedding anniversary. Unbelievable. I used to think a 40 year old was really, really ancient. Someone who has been married for 40 years must be nearly prehistoric. So, what are we going to do to celebrate? We'll probably go to Barnes and Noble and buy books and tea. We'll probably go to the newest find in town and get fish tacos for lunch. We'll probably go to dinner and a movie, and the most likely movie will be.....ta da.....Star Trek. Yes, we're still trekkies, but we probably won't dress up in costume. (Can you see Dad dressed up as Mr. Spock?)
Truly, it's a mind-boggling event.
Love to all.

Memorial Day--for old memories

2009-05-25T09:58:00.000-07:00

Memorial Day is for remembering. It was set up to honor the soldiers of the Civil War, but it has come to mean remembering our loved ones who have gone on. I put a picture of iris here, because Memorial Day weekend used to be the Iris Society's big show, and Grandma and Grandpa English always won ribbons. The first year I met John, they won Queen of the Show, and gave me the medal, because they entered "for me." It was also the last time they entered. They moved on to Day Lilies, Cactus, and Rock Gardens after that. What a great memory.
I started a walking program, and my favorite place is Canyon Rim Park. It is soooo gorgeous, and usually I have it all to myself. Today, being a holiday, there were family activities going on, and it was nostalgic. I really miss "family". Of course I miss individuals, but I miss the many things we used to be and do as a family.
When we lived on 10th East and the kids were little, we would put one in the backpack, and one in the bike seat, and bike to Liberty Park to play, then go out for lunch or dinner, usually pizza--my choice in those days.
On many holidays we ended up with Kentucky Fried Chicken at Grandma English's house, followed by frisbee or softball or football at the Rosecrest schoolyard. Many Sundays were spend at Grandma Stirling's for dinner, with lots of people running around, and Sherry showing us her mouthful at the dinner table. Sometimes we would go to the Rosslyn Heights schoolyard to play. I think now of my poor mother and her workload doing it all herself, and all of us just laughing and hanging out together. I miss those days. If I had it to do over, I'd help her more. Alf still tells his ethnic jokes, but they aren't politically correct anymore (like they ever were).
We don't get together with Pat and Kathy and their family anymore. Allison and Sue still like each other, and we do have the Easter Egg tradition, which is a good thing. Mary Kay, for her first Christmas back, loved the bowling idea, and wants to keep it going, even willing to plan it next year. But I think how spread out everyone is, both in locale and ideology; it's quite interesting to see the disparity anymore.
I remember taking all the cousins up to the University to play in the water fountains. We would also take bikes, wagons and trikes to toodle around on.
I miss the Moab Marathon activities, meeting everyone in the park after the run, then hiking in Fiery Furnace, flying kites from the parking lot. Ditto the St. George Marathon.
I miss the river guides annual river trip on the Snake, camping out at Gros Ventre campground, eating meals with everyone.
I miss the trips to Lake Powell with Carolyn and Alf's family and boat, water skiing. I remember the first time Jonathon and Allison water skiied; what an exciting time that was.
A trip down Memory Lane is a good thing: I still have my memories! I think I should have appreciated the moment more intentionally in those days. If I had advice to give young parents, it would be to Pay Attention. Don't miss anything while you're doing it. It goes by too fast, and the only thing you can count on is CHANGE. Everything changes so fast, and we never know what tomorrow will bring. Be happy in Present Time. So, I'm going to take my own advice, and be happy with what Life presents to me in Present Time. I'm going to pay attention, especially to my grandchildren. And I'm going to keep making memories.
Love to all.

Life is a Verb

2009-05-10T17:21:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago, Sarah posted a book review on her blog. It was a self-help book, one kind she says she never reads. Well, if you know me, you know that I've spent 30 years reading self-help books. Call me crazy, it would probably be true, but I always felt I needed to know more about the world, how it works, how to have successful relationships, how to see the world through eyes that might find kindness, compassion, empathy, acceptance and love. Isn't that what everyone wants? Maybe like the David Wilcox song, I had a hole in my cup that holds love....or probably more correctly, withholds love. I kept thinking everyone else knew something I didn't, and if I could just figure out what it was, the "Secret - Of - Happiness" would be mine. Not that I wasn't happy; I think I've been an eternal optimist, or at least very naive. This is a long introduction to the topic for today. THE BOOK.

LIFE IS A VERB, by Patti Digh (ironically pronounced "Die")
37 Days to Wake up, Be Mindful, and Live Intentionally

This is the book I would have written, if I could write a book. This is what I have wanted to teach my children, what I want my grandchildren to know. It is full of lovely quotes and poems (most of which I have already collected through the years), anecdotes, fresh ways to look at the world, and mostly it affirms Life in a big way. I can read two pages a day if I want, and my heart opens wide. I'm a better person for it. It is funny, poignant, provocative, heart-warming and inspiring.
The author lives in Asheville, NC. and speaks internationally, teaching these principles to large organizations. She is mother to two daughters, one a teenager, one a toddler, and we see life through her eyes as a mother, as well as life through the eyes of her children. The world is a better place because of her life, teachings, commitment and insight.
When I used to recommend books, I would say: "This is one I would want if I were stranded on a desert island." However, this book would not be needed if I were stranded; it is absolutely essential for navigating the sea of humanity we live among every day. I checked it out of the library, have renewed it, and now will be buying my own copy. Check it out here. Even if you read two pages, your life will be better for it. Thank you, Patti. (Her website here, which links to her blog containing many of the essays in the book.)
And love to all.

Wicked.....or not.

2009-04-29T08:48:00.000-07:00

WICKED has been in town for three weeks, and we went to see it last week. The book, by Gregory Maguire, was one of my all time favorites; intelligent, psychological, sociological, political, ancient and contemporary. I wondered how they could make a musical out of such a profound (and very long) book.
I'm glad I saw it, but it wasn't one I'd go see repeatedly. However, I've been listening to the original Broadway soundtrack, and it is wonderful. The last song is emotionally charged, so I thought I'd share the lyrics here, for those of you unable to see the production. The song is titled
"For Good".

(Glinda)
I'VE HEARD IT SAID
THAT PEOPLE COME INTO OUR LIVES FOR A REASON
BRINGING SOMETHING WE MUST LEARN
AND WE ARE LED
TO THOSE WHO HELP US MOST TO GROW
IF WE LET THEM
AND WE HELP THEM IN RETURN
WELL, I DON'T KNOW IF I BELIEVE THAT'S TRUE
BUT I KNOW I'M WHO I AM TODAY
BECAUSE I KNEW YOU...

LIKE A COMET PULLED FROM ORBIT
AS IT PASSES A SUN
LIKE A STREAM THAT MEETS A BOULDER
HALFWAY THROUGH THE WOOD
WHO CAN SAY IF I'VE BEEN CHANGED FOR THE BETTER?
BUT BECAUSE I KNEW YOU
I HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOR GOOD...

(Elphaba)
IT WELL MAY BE
THAT WE WILL NEVER MEET AGAIN
IN THIS LIFETIME
SO LET ME SAY BEFORE WE PART
SO MUCH OF ME
IS MADE OF WHAT I LEARNED FROM YOU
YOU'LL BE WITH ME
LIKE A HANDPRINT ON MY HEART
AND NOW WHATEVER WAY OUR STORIES END
I KNOW YOU HAVE REWRITTEN MINE
BY BEING MY FRIEND...
LIKE A SHIP BLOWN FROM ITS MOORING
BY A WIND OFF THE SEA
LIKE A SEED DROPPED BY A SKYBIRD
IN A DISTANT WOOD
WHO CAN SAY IF I'VE BEEN CHANGED FOR THE BETTER?
BUT BECAUSE I KNEW YOU...

(Glinda) BECAUSE I KNEW YOU...

(Both) I HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOR GOOD...

(Elphaba)
AND JUST TO CLEAR THE AIR
I ASK FORGIVENESS
FOR THE THINGS I'VE DONE YOU BLAME ME FOR

(Glinda)
BUT THEN, I GUESS WE KNOW
THERE'S BLAME TO SHARE

(Both) AND NONE OF IT SEEMS TO MATTER ANYMORE.
WHO CAN SAY IF I'VE BEEN CHANGED FOR THE BETTER?
I DO BELIEVE I HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOR THE BETTER.

BECAUSE I KNEW YOU
I HAVE BEEN CHANGED FOR GOOD.

Maybe the lyrics are so touching because they are universal truth. Each person who comes into our lives imprints us and we learn something we need, whether we like it or not. Sometimes the things we learn are painful, or we think we don't want to know/feel that. But I do believe as life goes on and we look back, we see how important it was to learn that. And of course the people who touch us in profoundly good ways show us what we might become, or just remind us of who we already are. There is such grace in the feeling of gratitude about the people who have made us who we are. So, right now, I'm very thankful for all of you in my life who have changed me for good....and for the better.
Love to all.

A Childhood Story; Old Memories

2009-04-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

I remember pedal pushers. I remember riding my bicycle in pedal pushers. I remember being embarrassed about my bicycle.
My best (and only) friend Nancy had just gotten a brand new Schwinn bicycle, the newest style, shiny blue and white, with balloon tires and bright chrome fenders....and it was a girl's bicycle. I, of course, was jealous, so my Dad found me a "new" bicycle, larger than Nancy's and sleeker, the racing type, the precursor to a 3-speed, with skinny tires and a skinny frame. It was a boy's bicycle with no fenders...and previously well used. My Dad tried to fix it up for me, so he painted it bright red. I should have been thrilled with the bike, because it was way ahead of its time, but in truth, I was still jealous of Nancy's new bike, and secretly ashamed of my beat up, but newly painted one. The bigger truth is that I was always jealous of Nancy, who had everything I ever wanted.....thick brown ringlets, large dark eyes, straight A, attention from boys, picked first for the teams, and mostly a huge amount of confidence and self-importance.
When we were about 10 years old, we had seen a bicycle built for two. We used to sing at the top of our lungs as we rode our bikes, (here you can sing along too)..."Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.......on a bicycle built for two." So, I guess it was inevitable that we would use our imaginations.
One day, Nancy and I, in our never ending quest of determining "What shall we do today?" decided to build our own Bicycle-Built-for-Two. Since my bike had no fenders, we figured we could remove my front tire and remove her back fender, and place my front forked frame over her back tire. I got my Dad's tools, and between the two of us, we managed to loosen the bolts on my front tire and remove it, Then somehow we got her back fender off, placed my forked frame over her back tire and bolted it on. I can't imagine now how we did it, but, voila, we were quite resourceful in those days.
Well, we were satisfied, and in fact, proud of our accomplishment. All we had to do now was get on the bike and sing to the tops of our lungs, :Daisy, Daisy" while we sailed down the street. She hopped on her beautiful blue Schwinn, I hoped on my red racer, and we pushed off together.
O.K. the thing we had not foreseen, though, was that the forked prongs from my front wheel were not only attached to her back tire, but were directly connected to my steering apparatus----the handle bars. By slightly turning my handle bars for balance, I could flip Nancy off of her bike. Instead of the front person having control, which Nancy always insisted on, I could tip her over within seconds, which I did numerous times in our attempts at going more that 20 feet. I wonder now if I secretly took great pleasure in the few moments of control I had, before she adamantly insisted that we dismantle our wonderfully creative contraption, and give her back her gorgeous, better than mine, bicycle, so she could once again be in control. Oh, the adventures of youth and naivete, eh?
Nancy and I had many (mis)adventures on our bikes in our pedal pushers.
Sometimes I marvel that I lived to tell the tales.
Love to all.

A Discouragement and a Brag

2009-04-16T12:10:00.000-07:00

Silly me, I thought everyone should like tie dyed clothing for little people. In February, my friend ordered some newborn outfits for a baby shower she was giving, and according to her, everyone raved about them. So, I got a long distance call from Albuquerque, ordering some onesies newborn tie dyed outfits for another baby shower, but it had to be a rush order. I dyed them in Albuquerque colors, with a wonderful spiral for a little tiny baby boy, and overnighted it. Well, after three weeks on not hearing anything, nor receiving payment, I began to wonder what happened, but I sat patiently by. In a few more days I got a phone call from my friend in Albuquerque, apologizing for not sending the money, but it seems like the recipient didn't appreciate the tie dye, and said she probably wouldn't dress her baby in any of it, so could it be returned? Of course I was happy to have her send it back, which she did, promptly. So then I was left with some wounded pride, wondering whether I should give up.
Allison's friend Heather wanted matching Easter outfits for her three little ones, so she ordered 3 matching hoodies, which she wanted in "Hard Candy" colors. (See Peaceful Ones )
I didn't get the first batch bright enough, but the second try was Easter colorful. She was thrilled, and I started feeling better. So here's the brag. Check out Heather's blog for a photo of the finished products. Thanks, Heather. I needed the success.
Love to all.

More Poetry and a prayer

2009-04-06T09:04:00.000-07:00

Max Ehrmann (1872-1945) was noted for his most famous Desiderata poem, which begins "Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons......" It's a lovely, long poem to inspire us to be the best human we can envision. He also wrote other poems, less well known, so I thought I'd add one here. Perhaps I love poetry so much because in a few short lines I can be reminded of who and how I want to be, and these uplift me so easily. Enjoy!

A Prayer

Let me do my work each day; and if the
darkened hours of despair
overcome me, may I not forget the strength
that comforted me

in the desolation of other times.

May I still remember the bright hours that
found me walking over
the silent hills of my childhood, or dreaming
on the margin of a quiet
river, when a light glowed within me, and
I promised my early God
to have courage amid the tempests of the
changing years.

Spare me from bitterness and from the
sharp passions of unguarded
moments. May I not forget that poverty
and riches are of the spirit.
Though the world knows me not, may my
thoughts and actions be
such as shall keep me friendly with myself.

Lift up my eyes from the earth, and let me not
forget the uses of the
stars. Forbid that I should judge others lest
I condemn myself.
Let me not follow the clamor of the world,
but walk calmly in my path.

Give me a few friends who will love me for what
I am; and keep ever
burning before my vagrant steps the kindly
light of hope.

And though age and infirmity overtake me,
and I come not within
sight of the castle of my dreams, teach me
still to be thankful for
life, and for time's olden memories that are good
and sweet; and
may the evening's twilight find me gentle still.

Years ago, when I facilitated Artist's Way groups, we had an exercise where we would be silent, listening inward, and write our deepest, most heartfelt prayers. That was a very powerful process for everyone, and most would copy them onto lovely paper and frame them to be daily reminders.
I know in our busy world, we don't take time to really put into words our deepest wishes, but it is so worth the time, because putting words onto paper is a powerful affirmation.
During this holy week before Easter, perhaps it would be a wonderful thing to think about.
Maybe if I ever get courageous, I'll print my own prayers here one day. Until then, keep praying.
Love to all.

Birthdays and Death

2009-03-22T13:27:00.000-07:00

This is a rambling post about nothing, so you have permission to skip it.
Yes, that is a weird title and this is a weird subject, but really, they are one and the same thing.....two sides of the same coin. The minute you're born, you begin the journey toward death. Your dying is inevitable, no one gets out of this life alive....and all the other cliches you know.
I've been thinking about this for several reasons, not the least of which is my own birthday approaching. The sudden death of Natasha Richardson in a freak skiing accident on a beginner's slope, from massive brain trauma, really struck me hard because one minute you're here, the next minute you're not. Josh spoke at his Grandmother's funeral yesterday, so we've had a week of reflection on a life well lived, and we remembered our own parents and their influence on us. This year John will be the age my father was when he died, and we've already had the heart pacemaker scare. In fact, I'm absolutely amazed that anyone lives beyond childhood, when I see how active little toddlers are, and how fast they can get away from you, even when you're watching closely. There are so many things that can go wrong before even one breath goes by, and my worrying mind can imagine any scenario to keep me awake at night. I never worry about my own survival---I only worry about my loved ones, which I realize is very selfish. I am the one who would suffer if anything happened to someone I love, because I would be the one left behind to try to make sense of this life, which mostly doesn't make sense to me. At my age (social security payments are starting), I'm still trying to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm growing older but not up, as the Jimmy Buffett song says. I have read every self-help book and philosophy, and yes, the religious books too. I know how to breathe right. I know how to meditate. I know how to stay in the present moment. I know how to keep my mind neutral or even quiet. I know how to teach, facilitate, support, lead, follow, regurgitate information, problem-solve, remember, reinvent, energize, relax, change, stay consistent, and every other polar opposite needed. I know how to BE, how to DO, how to HAVE. And I continue to wonder WHY, which is the only question that never has a satisfactory answer----the answer always is "BECAUSE." So, what's the point? I think my favorite Brian Andreas' Story People card says,
"There are things you do because they feel right &
they may make no sense & they may make no money &
it may be the real reason we are here; to love each other &
to eat each other's cooking & say it was good."
So where does all of this rambling end up? I think the point of the card is to appreciate the people in your life right this minute, because we don't know how long they're going to be with us. We don't have a guarantee at all that anyone is going to wake up tomorrow morning and finish the day. We cannot see the future and who will be there for us. We really only have this minute, and we don't know when we will be **POOF** gone in an instant, or when someone we love will be **POOF** gone, and we forgot to tell them thanks, or I love you, or even something as simple as I'm glad you're my friend...I'm glad you're in my life. So, in honor of my birthday, I want to say I LOVE YOU, THANKS FOR BEING IN MY LIFE, I LOVE YOUR COOKING, I LOVE YOUR BLOGS AND YOUR GIFTS AND TALENTS, I LOVE YOUR SMILES AND HUGS, I LOVE YOUR PHONE CALLS, I LOVE YOUR CHILDREN.
If you don't know that, then my life has no purpose.
Happy Birthday to me.

Pure poetry

2009-03-12T12:02:00.000-07:00

Anyone who knows me well, knows how much I love poetry. The interesting thing to me is that this is something I didn't inherit, didn't get by parental influence or even from peer pressure or friends. Poetry is uniquely me and mine. I do not know from where the love of it came, except from the core of my real self. I find it soothing, enlightening, uplifting and inspiring. I love the beauty of the words. I love the painting of a work of art through beautiful phrases. I collect poems like I collect rocks, or quotes. It must also be connected to my love of reading and books, and while I can recycle a good novel, or let it go, or loan it out, I don't seem to be able to let go of my poetry books. They're the only books I reread. So, in honor of my love of poetry, I'm printing a new discovery of an old poem.

THE MAN WATCHING
by Rainier Maria Rilke
Translated by Robert Bly

I can tell by the way the trees beat, after
so many dull days, on my worried windowpanes
that a storm is coming,
and I hear the far off fields say things
I can't bear without a friend,
I can't love without a sister.

The storm, the shifter of shapes, drives on
across the woods and across time,
and the world looks as if it had no age:
and landscape, like a line in the psalm book,
is seriousness and weight and eternity.

What we fight is so small!
What struggles with us is so great!
If only we would let ourselves be dominated
as things do by some immense storm,
we would become strong too, and not need names.

When we win it's with small things,
and the triumph itself makes us small.
What is extraordinary and eternal
does not want to be bent by us.
I mean the angel, who appeared
to the wrestler in the Old Testament:
When the wrestler's sinews
grew long like metal strings,
he felt them under his fingers
like chords of deep music.
Whoever was beaten by this Angel,
(who often simply declined the fight),
went away proud and strengthened
and great from that harsh hand,
that kneaded him as if to change his shape.

Winning does not tempt that one.
This is how he grows: by being defeated,
decisively, by constantly greater beings.

Recession Decession Depression

2009-03-08T11:44:00.000-07:00

A trip down memory lane, but they're not my memories. As the economy is in collapse, and no one really knows what's going to happen next, I've been pondering the lives of my parents. John was born in 1905, Ethel in 1910. Mom was 23 when they married, Dad was 28. During the big depression in the 30's, when no jobs were available, only one member of the household could hold a job. Mom had a great job at Beneficial Life Insurance Company, Dad drove a taxi and earned about $15.00 a month, so they drove to Grantsville to get married and didn't tell anyone, because one of them would have lost his/her job, most likely my mother, who earned a bit more than my dad. No one could afford housing, so Mom and Dad lived with my aunt and uncle, and they all shared the rent. Of course, my grandfather also ran the candy company, and the family had to help out there as well. My Aunt Ruth had been a sickly fragile child who had Rheumatic Fever, which left her with a weakened heart. She worked the candy counter at Keith O' Brien's downtown. My mom would leave Beneficial Life on her lunch hour to work the candy counter so my Aunt Ruth could have a lunch break. Everyone pulled together to help each other, because everyone was in the same economic crisis. They shared, they learned to make do, they learned how to save, how to decide priorities, what was important, and what their values needed to be to survive, to make sure their loved ones survived.
Here in America, I think we got used to excess, wealth and abundance, greed and corruption. Many of us have been wondering how long things could go on the way they were, and now we see some of the results of our misplaced priorities. We don't know how long things are going to go downhill, and we don't know what personal sacrifices we are going to have to make. Once again, we'll need to dig down and find our values, make decisions based on what is right and how we can help. We'll have the human tendency to cry "Foul", so see that life is not fair. But in the end, it all comes down to wanting our families to be safe and warm, with enough food to eat, and a roof over our heads. In the Great Depression, those things might even have been luxuries. This is the "Rainy Day" we've all been warned about. We don't know when the sun is coming out again, but we know it is there, overhead, even if we can't see it. We know that "This too shall pass". And maybe in the process we will remember compassion and kindness, and we'll remember what is truly important. Maybe we'll remember that people are more important than things.

nothin' special

2009-03-04T18:30:00.000-08:00

Forgive the lack of new blogging....I just don't seem to be inspired enough to think what I write is important. I do have a funny story, though, which is worth repeating. It made me laugh out loud.
Today Allison picked Jonas up from preschool, and he handed her a wonderful picture he had drawn and colored. A terrific drawing, appropriate for March and St. Patrick's Day, of a little man dressed in green, complete with whiskers, top hat, and black boots. When Allison saw it, she said, "Wow, Jonas, what a great leprechaun you drew!" Jonas replied, "It's not a leprechaun. It's a paleontologist."

Chocolate Is My Life

2009-02-12T10:31:00.000-08:00

I was nursed on chocolate. No, really! Chocolate runs in my blood and is just as important.
I think it is in my DNA.

You see, my mother was one of the last of a dying breed......a chocolate hand-dipper. I was raised in a chocolate factory, surrounded by rollicking, laughing, passionate, sometimes explosive, but always forgiving family.

When I was very tiny, my mom would take me to work with her. I would sleep in one of the chocolate boxes. As I grew, she took my pillow and blanket, and I slept between the deep shelves.

When I got a little older, all the dippers would give me fifty cents to run next door to the Royal Café to bring them fresh lime cokes “with lots of ice”.

I wandered to the potato chip factory in back where I could eat fresh, hot chips coming down the conveyor belt, then buy a bag to take home, or eat while I passed the time, waiting.

For good behavior, I was given a puddle of warm melted chocolate and some peanuts, where I could practice dipping nut clusters, much like other children make mud pies.

I washed my hands carefully to rub the husks off the roasted peanuts and hazelnuts. I learned to carefully wrap bright red or gold foil squares around the specialty chocolates. I was about 5 years old.

After I started school, I could no longer go to the candy factory with Mom. During the hectic holiday chocolate season, she would work until after my bedtime. I would beg whoever was babysitting to let me stay up and wait for Mom.

I would fall asleep in the couch, and I always knew when she came home; she would carefully drape her fur coat over me and I would be surrounded by the comforting smell of warm chocolate mingled with fur. I could smell chocolate on her hands and hair as she carried me off to bed. She later told me she had to put her hands under the pillow at night so she wouldn’t smell the chocolate on them, and could sleep.

So you see, chocolate is more than comfort food to me.Chocolate means nourishment, togetherness, security, nurturing, life force, laughter, fun, family tradition, well-being, health, energy, vitality, abundance,and memory.

The smell of chocolate puts me right back in that nostalgic place of childhood, where my world was safe, and I went home with my Mom wearing her fur coat, both of us smelling like chocolate.

Revisiting the Past

2009-02-08T20:00:00.000-08:00

In 1972, John and I worked for a summer at Yellowstone Lake Hospital. He was an "extern", which was not quite an intern. I worked in the hospital office, registering, billing, filing. We arrived there over Memorial Day with our canoe on top of the car, our little raft and our hiking boots, and John's guitar in the backseat, excited for a new adventure. We drove a Volkswagen Squareback, which was like a mini-sized "station wagon" for a VW. While driving through the park, snow still covered the peaks and Yellowstone Lake was frozen over. Of course we put our canoe on the lake as soon as we arrived, because here is the interesting part.....The ice on the lake was really billions upon billions of icicles on top of the water loosely held together at the surface, so as we paddled, the bow of the canoe broke the surface of the icicles, and we left a small line of trail behind us. Each day as we looked out over the lake, as the sun began to warm it, the surface started showing more water. About the middle of June, with about half of the lake still showing ice, we witnessed the total and complete transformation from ice to water within just a few hours. It was one of the most amazing things I've ever seen.
That summer was transformative in many ways. We went to church at Lake Lodge in the huge, beautiful wooden recreation room. Two young missionaries were assigned to hold services there, usually only one sacrament meeting, and the few employees who were members did the regular jobs. During the week we often had activities as a group, and one of the missionaries was a folksinger---small world. John had taught himself how to play the guitar when he was 14, and had sung with folksinging groups in high school, and arranged 4-part harmonies of folk songs for 18 months on his mission in France. The fun thing was, this Elder Van Wagoner had a whole series of songs we didn't know (imagine that!) by a songwriter named John Denver. It didn't take long for us to learn all the new songs Elder V sang, and around the campfires we could all add our harmonies. It was so exciting to bring home a new repertoire.
During that summer, we were supposed to meet Ginny and Al and their 3 little kids in Jackson Hole for a river trip in our little raft. Ginny took Mom along to tend the kids while we were on the river. The night before the river trip, after we set up camp and tents, John and Al thought they might take Mom on a little run of the river so she would feel included. Mom sat in the front of the raft, while Al sat in the rear. A small piece of information needed, is that Al was a great big man---over six feet tall, and large. When the raft went through King Rapids, the front of the raft sank into a hole, and when the back of the raft hit the hole, with the weight of Alvin being unbalanced in the front of the raft by little Mom, the raft flipped, sending Mom into the freezing cold water of the Snake River. Now, this might have been an adventure for some, but another vital piece of information is that Mother never learned to swim, and when she flipped out, she came up underneath the raft, which held her down and scared the gejeebers out of her. Another vital piece of information is that before coming to Jackson Hole, she had lost a lot of weight rapidly, and she was already in a compromised health condition which, of course, no one knew about.....she hadn't told anyone, nor had she seen a doctor. So, after fishing her out of the freezing river, she was gray and ashen, couldn't stop shaking, and we had her lie in the tent under all of the sleeping bags to get warm while we went to cook dinner.....which never happened, because Mom started coughing up blood, which necessitated a trip to the Jackson Hole Emergency Room, where they thought she was having a heart attack.....and so did we. Mom spent a week in intensive care, where she was diagnosed with "thyroid storm", which often mimics a heart attack, I guess. Turns out they had a terrific cardiologist in Jackson Hole who caught this in time to correct it. Well, Ginny and Al never got their river trip, John had to go back to the hospital to work, and I stayed in Jackson Hole by myself for two weeks sitting all day at the hospital by Mom's side. To say that it was traumatic for all of us would be an understatement. John was certain he had nearly killed his mother-in-law, Alvin felt responsible, Ginny did too, because it was her idea for the river trip. I remember when everyone left me alone, I went to every motel in town for a room and "there was no room in the inn." As I was passing the Jackson Hole Ward, I saw it was open, so I went inside, and there were older missionary sisters there. As I saw them, I burst into tears and blubbered the story about my mother and no place to stay. Well wouldn't you know it? Within 5 minutes they had found a place for me in a basement guest room of a lady who owned the Antler Motel. The motel was full, but she graciously invited me to stay with her. I wish I remembered her name, but I didn't pay her a cent. I think I gave her flowers when I left. Anyway, while I stayed with Mom, I did several crewel embroidery pictures, which hung on my Mom's walls until she died at age 90, nearly twenty years after her thyroid storm, and our collective terror.

A Yogic Primer, Context and Content

2009-02-03T10:37:00.000-08:00

Years ago, in one of those many personal growth seminars in the 80's, we were introduced to a concept of "Context" in an energetic sense. The idea is that context defines the boundaries around an idea, which sets the rules for the content allowed. It would be like the sides, top, and bottom of a box set the boundaries for what can go into the box, labeled for easy identification. So, the context would be the container. The context would be the "allowing" or the "limiting." In an energetic sense, it would mean that the intentions and objectives define the rules for how the game is played, whether in a business setting, a government institution, a family unit, or an individual growth program. Understanding the importance of setting clear intentions and objectives is paramount to improving situations. In the yoga sutras, or principles, the rules are laid out in the first two chapters, and in the third and fourth chapters, the benefits of following them are given, as in mystical promises and powers.
For example:
The five external disciplines are not harming, truthfulness, not stealing, morality, and not being acquisitive. These are the first 5 "commandments" in yoga, also known as the yamas. You can see how far from these principles we have drifted in America---or in the world even. Our many troubles in present time can be identified by the total disregard in one or more of these five precepts. Now, the promises given for keeping these principles in integrity are:
Being firmly grounded in nonviolence creates an atmosphere in which others can let go of their hostility.
For those grounded in truthfulness, every action and its consequences are imbued with truth.
For those who have no inclination to steal, the truly precious is at hand.
The chaste acquire vitality.
Freedom from wanting (clinging, attaching, needing) unlocks the real purpose of existence.

Now the next 5 commandments, known as the niyamas, state: The five internal disciplines are bodily purification, contentment, intense discipline, self-study, and dedication to the ideal of yoga, (also translated as the Ideal, or Lord, or God). There are promises to go with these observances as well:
Purification brings about clarity, happiness, concentration, mastery of the senses, and capacity for self-awareness.
Contentment brings unsurpassed joy.
Intense discipline burns up impurities, the body and its senses become supremely refined.
Self-study deepens communion with one's personal deity.
Through orientation toward the Ideal of Pure Awareness, one can achieve integration.

Why would I even blog about this esoteric stuff? Well, I'm watching the government and the economy play out the theme of CONTEXT. President Obama clearly stated his intentions to bring integrity back into government. In that clear objective, we are now seeing those who have slipped up in their integrity being brought into focus. To say that this is just the tip of the iceberg is an understatement. We are now seeing the massive extent of greed, arrogance, dishonestly, lack of integrity, and these things cannot be changed while they are hidden. The world is in a downward spiral in so many ways because individually and collectively, we haven't been vigilant in keeping the basic commandments of every religion on earth. The idea of "DO THE RIGHT THING" got lost somewhere, not for everyone, of course.....anyone reading this would be doing the right thing, I'm sure. But I am convinced that even making a commitment to do ONE (ANY one) thing and practicing it unequivocally, we would be changing the world. (Sing along...."What one man can do is dream.....what one man can do is love.....what one man can do is change the world and make it new again, do you see what one man can do?" John Denver)
When I was working on my yoga certification, we had to choose to practice the yamas and niyamas and observe the affects on our lives and selves. "They" say if you can do one thing for 90 days, you own it. Does anyone feel up to that challenge? 90 days takes us up to May Day. How about we all practice "contentment", or maybe just practice keeping our word--doing what we say we will do? Wow, what a different world we would be creating. The context of our lives would create such promise for the content to be different.
So now you get to comment. Was this way too heavy for you? What one practice do you want to undertake? Gratitude? Kindness? Compassion? Love? Forgiveness? Letting Go?

Gorgeous and Glorious

2009-01-27T10:31:00.000-08:00

Today is one of those spectacular days that only Mother Nature can arrange.....a foot of new white snow and dazzling clear blue skies. It's colder than ( you know what), but how can anyone complain with the sun blazing overhead making every bit of snow sparkle. It's exactly what's needed the end of January after two weeks of horrid black unfit air inversions and fog.
Yesterday was our cute neighbor's birthday. I found a birthday card which said, "The secret of a long and happy life was shared with me by a very wise old sage, and for your birthday, I'm going to tell you this secret." (Open the card) "Keep breathing as long as possible."
Now, that might sound humorous, or even simplistic, but it's also extremely important. When anything happens to us, we always, instinctively, hold our breath, right? So, in my yoga classes, or when I'm listening to stressed out people, I always say "exhale." Once at a meditation retreat we were asked, "Which is more important: the inhale or the exhale?" A lively discussion followed, but in the end, the exhale was more important, because you cannot take anything in if you're already full, and so letting the old out, including the toxins and carbon dioxide, is what begins the breathing cycle. Unless you've studied breath and breathing for a living, which I have done for the past 14 years, you might not know that the inhale energizes and the exhale relaxes you. The inhale warms you, the exhale cools you off. The inhale stimulates, the exhale balances. We need both the inhale and the exhale to keep ourselves healthy, whole, and balanced, and in our stressed out society, it's not hard to realize that our habit of holding our breath, individually and collectively, continues to create imbalances, the same as accumulating too much of anything without letting something go.
Here's to our coming year, which, whether we like it or not, is going to demand letting go of many useless, irrelevant stuff, collectively and individually. Things have been out of balance too long, so.......keep exhaling and be grateful when the sun is shining.
love to all.

Historic Day

2009-01-20T07:40:00.000-08:00

"Nothing is as powerful as an idea
whose time has come."
Victor Hugo, Author of Les Miserables

It's Official : The Invitation

2009-01-11T10:41:00.000-08:00

It's Here!! We have officially been invited to the Inauguration of Barack Obama, and just in case you think it's a mistake, I even took a photo of the envelope addressed to John. Are we going? Do you know any hotel within 500 miles that might have accommodations?
This reminded me of another inauguration I went to: President Richard M. Nixon. I was the featured singer. Well, O.K., I was with 350 other featured singers; The Mormon Tabernacle Choir. And boy, was it ever c.c.c.c.colllldd. I think we sang on the steps of the Capitol Building, after Richard Nixon had been sworn in. The evening before the inauguration, I had my 15 minutes of fame, when the choir performed at Constitution Hall. Since I was the youngest and the shortest singer in the choir, I was placed in the front row center. After we finished the obligatory Battle Hymn of the Republic, Choir Director Richard P. Condie was so proud and beaming, he walked over to me, shook my hand, and gave me a big kiss on the cheek. This was before the days of digital cameras, so I'm sure there is no documentation.
You'll just have to take my word for it.

Create a Meaningful New Year

2008-12-29T20:34:00.000-08:00

Christmas might be over, but we can still give many meaningful and wanted presents each day. Everyone already knows that at New Year's, it's "out with the old, in with the new." Does anyone really ponder how truly important that is? We make resolutions to try to do better, be better (i.e. skinnier, healthier, nicer, less stressed, more organized, yada, yada), but I'd like to offer some ideas to really make the meaning of "out with the old" effective. I'd love to invite all readers to participate in this experiment.
This year, can we really let the past stay in the past? Can we believe it's possible to see each moment with fresh eyes? Can we see the people in our lives as who they are in the present moment, clear of old belief tapes running in our heads? Can we let people out of the box we keep them in by our old expectations and inadvertent hurts? In this new year, can we honestly begin to forgive those in our lives who have given us reasons to mistrust? Can we begin to see the highest potential in the human being who is trying to emerge from under the rocks we've placed on them based on past history? What a gift that would be, to release others from the bondage we've kept them in by holding on to old grudges, picking the scabs of old wounds. Can everyone imagine the peace that could enfold and surround us as we create new relationships based on PRESENCE.....being present in our listening, present in our noticing, present in our responses with no preconceived notions or habits? Wow, I think a whole new world would open up for us. And yes, I do think it would work. And yes, I do think it will be something we have to practice. But that is what life is for; to practice becoming better human beings; to practice evolving in our relationships; to practice the eternal principles of forgiveness and compassion and kindness; to practice BECOMING the kind of person we would be proud to be. It doesn't come automatically to anyone. It comes by imagining who and how we want to be "when we grow up", and then taking the necessary steps to become THAT human being, which is the Divine path......we are human becomings as well as human beings. We are each endowed with Divine Pure Potential in every moment.
And it all takes practice, and it all takes mindfulness, and it all takes constant forgiveness. These are the true gifts of the spirit. They may also be the true Spirit of the Gift.
Love to all.

Deep Peace to You

2008-12-02T13:17:00.000-08:00

As the Christmas season is upon us,

may I pass along a Gaelic prayer.

May peace reign in our hearts, and

may we spread love and harmony

through our actions.
May we all be instruments of peace.

Deep peace of the running wave to you,

of water flowing, rising and falling,

sometimes advancing, sometimes receding…

May the stream of your life flow unimpeded!

Deep peace of the running wave to you!

Deep peace of the flowing air to you,

which fans your face on a sultry day

the air which you breathe deeply, rhythmically,

which imparts to you energy, consciousness, life.

Deep peace of the flowing air to you!

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

who, herself unmoving, harbours the movements

and facilitates the life of the ten thousand creatures,

while resting contented, stable, tranquil.

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you!

Deep peace of the shining stars to you,

which stay invisible till darkness falls

and discloses their pure and shining presence

beaming down in compassion on our turning world.

Deep peace of the shining stars to you!

Deep peace of the watching shepherds to you,

of unpretentious fold who, watching and waiting,

spend long hours out on the hillside,

expecting in simplicity some Coming of the Lord.

Deep peace of the watching shepherds to you!

Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you,

who, swift as the wave and pervasive as the air,

quiet as the earth and shining like a star,

breathes into us His Peace and His Spirit.

Deep peace of the Son of Peace to you!

Adapted from the Gaelic, by Mary Rogers

Love to all, and Peace on Earth.

Napa Valley

2008-11-20T18:58:00.000-08:00

Some scenic photos of our stay in Napa Valley last weekend.

We enjoyed the Christian Brothers Retreat and Conference Center, in the beautiful countryside vineyards, where we had total peace and quiet, and the whole place to ourselves, except for the Brothers who kept out of sight. We had a second story room, with wall-to-wall-to-ceiling windows which we kept open the whole weekend, because of the unseasonably warm weather. Ideal! We could walk through the miles of vineyards, or we could wander through trails of Redwood Forests. Each morning we watched 3 or 4 hot air balloons rise over Napa. It was so restful and lovely, we were content to just enjoy the surroundings instead of shopping or sightseeing.

The event that took us there was the wedding of Hartley, daughter of Kirke and Darcy, our long-time friends from Spokane, Washington. It was held at the V. Sattui Winery, and they spared no expense in their hospitality. Everything was perfectly arranged, and the Filet dinner was superb. It was fun to visit with the family, to meet all of their children, now grown and having beautiful children of their own. It is amazing to me as I see these little ones, to realize that our own children were that young when we were friends, oh-so-long ago. So, at this time of Thanksgiving, I'll add a gratitude: Thank Heavens for Old Friends, who remember how immature we used to be, and still chose to stay friends while we grew up---sort of.

Love to all.

Eastern Philosophy 101

2008-11-12T09:51:00.000-08:00

This is a topic I've been wanting to write about for a long time. It's outside the confines of religion, yet all religions are based on it's basic principles. In the yoga tradition, the first "commandment" also known as the yamas and the niyamas (the do and the do nots) is AHIMSA, translated as non-harming, or non-violence. This was Mahatma Gandhi's basic life teaching, adopted by Martin Luther King in the 60's. It is the medical profession's basic tenet: Above all, do no harm. All life is sacred, imbued with the divine, so if one practices ahimsa, true and lasting peace would reign on earth. In yoga class we teach that ahimsa starts with the self---self-acceptance, loving thoughts towards oneself. How many times we berate ourselves for what we have/have not done, feelings we have that are shameful, guilts, regrets, jealousies. How can we be loving towards another when we have violent thoughts towards ourselves? This principle of ahimsa carries into every area of our lives in everything we do. Can you personally go one hour without having a negative thought? I can't....yet....but I can practice by NOTICING when I am being less than accepting towards myself and others. And like every other spiritual principle, it is a life long practice honed through the years. We "simply" STOP the harming thoughts. I say simply, but it is not easy.

If we didn't adopt another practice, ahimsa would transform the world.

Now, to extend that, in the Buddhist philosophy, the ahimsa principle expands to METTA: meaning "Loving Kindness". In this active exercise, we practice intention. Not only do we stop the harming thoughts or actions, but we intentionally work on feeling what we wish to experience, and then sending out kindness and loving thoughts. It might start as simply as "May I be peaceful." "May I live in safety". "May I have mental happiness." "May I live with ease." But here's the rub: we start with feeling the loving thoughts towards ourselves, because (here's the Christian principle) we get back what we send out; we reap what we sow. The ripple effect begins inside of us. We do unto others as we would do to ourselves. When we want to help others, we send these thoughts out...."May you be safe." "May you be peaceful." "May you know your own true worth." Isn't that what we truly wish for ourselves and others?

This post precedes the holiday season, because it puts us into the proper frame of mind. Christmas, or whatever holiday you celebrate, traditionally means giving presents. I hope to reframe that into giving PRESENCE.

If we could all give each other the benefit of the doubt, what a gift that would be. If we could all offer our loved ones Loving Kindness, it wouldn't get any better than that. If we would truly be "present" in our relationships, instead of withdrawing into ourselves, or in whatever other ways we habitually run away, that would be a gift everyone would value. If we met together in the spirit of gratitude for the people in our lives who always have our best interests at heart, our holidays would be magical and memorable, and would make a difference in our world.

Love to All, no exceptions.

History is made!

2008-11-04T21:38:00.000-08:00

Wow, we have a new President of the United States. We have discovered that the world did not end, much to the surprise of many. The world as we know it is still with us, and probably will be for quite some time. The question is: Can we rise to the occasion? Can we make the difficult choices we need in order to bring about the changes that are necessary? Can we keep our focus on the essentials, the principles of right action, of integrity, of service, of sacrifice? Can we truly have the audacity to hope for a better America? Whoever you voted for, the separation, judgments, fears and doubts must be put aside to work together so our children and grandchildren will not suffer for our shortsightedness, our selfishness, or greed, or power-hunger. We cannot afford to be petty, but must expand our own comfort zones to be inclusive, to be peacemakers, to heal the divide which has gone on too long. Yes, this is a pep talk. Please leave your comments on ideas you have to foster hope and change and growth in the new climate sweeping the country.

God Bless America, and every person in it. God Bless the World, and every person in it.

Why the crafts?

2008-10-22T07:27:00.000-07:00

Someone asked me yesterday if I'd always loved arts and crafts, or if it is a recent interest. As I thought about it, I realized it probably came about because my oldest sister caught polio when I was nineteen months old. Carolyn is 8 years older than I am, so she was just starting 4th grade when the polio epidemic was sweeping the country. My mother practically lived at the hospital, but in those days, they would only let one family member visit for 5 minutes each hour because they believed it was not good for the patient, for various and sundry reasons--all of them so wrong. The hospitals were full of polio patients whose parents would not leave, so they let other parents do therapy on other children during the waiting time, so Mom would visit with Carolyn for her 5 minutes each hour, then do physical therapy exercises with other children while waiting to check on Carolyn. That system sounds so crazy to me, but I know as a mother I would have wanted to be there every minute, desperate to make sure my child stayed alive, and the hospitals had to figure out what to do with distraught parents. Many children didn't survive, and many were confined to an iron lung. Carolyn was in and out of the hospital with multiple surgeries through most of a year, so I was tended by any available adult, mostly Grandma Barr, but also the grandmothers of my cousins.
When Carolyn began to recover, but was crippled, Mom had to find activities she could do, and since there were two other children, it had to be activities we could all do together. I've long been aware of the scars I carried from being abandoned for a year at such a young age, but only recently have I become aware of the gifts. Every Saturday, we would go horseback riding. Mom took Carolyn and the cousins, or any neighborhood friends who wanted to come along. Carolyn could get on the horses and run as fast as the wind. On a horse, she wasn't crippled, and it was good therapy for her legs, since she had to squeeze the thighs together to stay on the horse. Carolyn has had a life long love for horses, raising Arabians, making Arabian costumes which often took first place at the fair. I have loved horseback riding as well, but mostly because of the fond memories of finally being together again with my mom and sisters.
Which brings us to the arts and crafts answer. With Carolyn's mobility limited the first few years, Mom would bring home paint-by-number sets, art supplies, and games, and we all had to help entertain Carolyn (ha, like we needed to---she was the most entertaining of all, a real fireball in those days.) One result of this is that I have always hated to play board games, because I always lost, and Carolyn always chortled with glee when she won. Allison has never forgiven me for not playing games with her enough. The other result which I didn't appreciate until recently is my fondness for arts and crafts, which never took the form of drawing or painting---that was Carolyn's expertise and I couldn't compete, but I could hold my own at everything else, and the best part of it all is that I was never left out of the ongoing craft projects; basket weaving, knitting, crocheting, sewing, ceramics, and generally creating things out of my hands and imagination, and feeling that it was all valid and valued. Most of that got put on hold until now, when we are empty nesters, and I have time to revisit the good parts of childhood. The only trouble now is that my mom isn't there to smile approval and tell me how clever I am. I have to remind myself---and so I do, by keeping going.
Love to all.

The Hunter's Moon

2008-10-17T13:10:00.000-07:00

The spectacular moon this month has wowed me. This little photo was taken at 7:30 a.m. while I was in the yard walking the dog. The wind had not come up yet, the temperature was mild, and I was overjoyed at the wonder of it all. It's amazing that we are part of this incredible universe.

Here is a fact I learned on the weather report this week: Indian Summer is the time of beautiful fall weather AFTER the first frost, so we are enjoying a gorgeous time right now. Don't blink or you'll miss it. Each month the full moon has a name. This month is called the Hunter's Moon, and you can probably figure out why.

It's like someone turned on the brightest night light.

This is a post in progress, so more will be updated later. For now, here are some pictures of the yard from this morning. You can see why it is so fun being outside with the dog.

The picture on the left is a piece of driftwood we took from the house on Plaza Way. The leaves are now just coming down.

The photo on the right shows the empty garden after the frost.
Remember how it looked on a previous post during the summer?

And below is a photo of John's Inukshuk--an eskimo-type rock formation. It looks like a woman with wind blowing through her hair while she stand as sentry.

Good Morning Merry Snowfall

2008-10-12T09:49:00.000-07:00

We awoke to winter white, and while it's beautiful, it's premature. It's also less than 32 degrees, which means the garden is kaput...no more red tomatoes, purple (green) beans, white cucumbers, rust colored romaine. The furnace is blasting, the hot chocolate brewing. The weirdest thing is that a few days ago it was in the 80's, and next weekend will be back up to 75...in time for a full moon and Indian Summer. That is the poetics of living in the desert mountains of the Rockies. It is the unpredictable, changable, whimsical seasons that I love so much. This location creates the most beautiful sunsets in the world, a joy to photographers, and the cloud formations are an artist's dream. What's not to love? I'll tell you....when the beauty you wish to see is in the eyes and faces of your loved ones so far away. That is the only regret, which is why we're so excited to have them coming to visit for Christmas, to join the ones here who love them.

On a cold "winter" day, what could be better than a huge pot of fresh vegetable soup? Since we had to pick everything in the garden, here are the ingredients.....right out of the ground.

And the best thing about it is, I won'd have to fix dinner for several days! Makes your mouth water, doesn't it?

Love to all.

2008-10-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

It's that beautiful time of the year...again....so soon. It's so temporary, but returns again and again, and maybe because I'm approaching the autumn of my life, it seems more poignant this season. Not only are the colors temporary, but so is each leaf, ready to move on to the next stage: compost, mulch, fodder.
As I drove up the canyon before the rain/snow started this weekend, I was reminded of the autumn tradition we had as children. My favorite maternal aunt, after whom I was named, arrived from San Francisco for her annual visit in conjunction with the deer hunt for the men. The women were left home with all of us kids, and so we would gather in this wonderful protected canyon of Millcreek to picnic and hike in the leaves. When I smell the autumn breeze, the scent immediately transports me back to the trails, the games, the fried chicken and potato salad, the laughter of the aunts and cousins...and there was a LOT of laughter.
One of the most vivid memories was waiting with great anticipation until after we ate to receive the precious gift our Aunt Marie would bring with her from Union Square, San Francisco. My Aunt Marie was exotic, and rich. She owned a reducing salon at 140 Geary Street, Union Square, right next to Britex Fabrics. This was in the 50's and 60's before the world was obsessed with weight loss, so she was ahead of her time. Her studio was filled with big passive roller machines that were supposed to roll the weight (read "fat") off, or at least break it down and redistribute it. One of our family stories is about visiting her studio, hearing the phone ring, having my older sister answer it with "Maberry's Reducing Saloon, Salon, Saloon." (You had to be there.) Aunt Marie was always dressed to the nines with lavish jewelry, large pieces, diamonds, pendants, rings, earrings, so being the little girl I was, I could anticipate a beautiful piece of jewelry. Can I tell you a secret? I was always disappointed, because the anticipation was greater than the gift. Isn't that how it is at Christmas, too? The reason I was disappointed was because my aunt didn't have any children, and since I was the youngest child, she couldn't guess what was appropriate for me, nor could she guess what I might like. I never wore the jewelry. I don't know what happened to any of it. And, as I reflect now, I still don't wear much jewelry, except for earrings. Perhaps the old memories tied to jewelry disappointment might still be affecting my choices, who knows?
As I drove down the canyon, remembering the past, I'm left mostly with the memories of laughter, of family togetherness, of childhood freedoms and carefree attitudes, of good food, good fun, nature, and the precious thought that we need to pay attention in each moment, so we don't miss it. We don't know how long the colors or leaves will last, so appreciate it while it's in front of you in the present moment. We can't go back.
love to all.

If I Could Do It Over poem

2008-10-04T10:17:00.000-07:00

One of the problems with a blog is defining what type of content to write about. My true confession today is that I haven't identified what I want to do with a blog, which is why I'm slow to post. Originally I thought I would write about the nature of energy, and how thoughts create, and relate to what shows up in our lives. But I think there's only an audience of 3 or less, so now I'm not sure what to do. If you have any ideas, let me know.

Now, today's post is a poem I discovered, and don't know the author.

If I Could Do It Over

If I had my child to raise all over again

I'd build self-esteem first and the house later.

I'd fingerpaint more and point the finger less.

I would do less correcting and more connecting.

I'd take my eyes off my watch and watch with my eyes.

I would care to know less and know to care more.

I'd take more hikes and fly more kites.

I'd stop playing serious and seriously play.

I'd ignore the stares and stare at more stars.

I'd do more hugging and less tugging.

I'd see the oak in the acorn more often.

I would be firm less often and affirm much more.

I'd abandon my love of power in favor of the power of love.

Many times I've wished I could go back and do a better job of raising my "kids". But when I see my children now as the wonderful adults they are, I couldn't be more proud. Now it is easy to do as the poem suggests, because as I'm getting older, perhaps I'm wising up. I'm doing a better job as a grandparent, I hope. They say that knowledge is accumulating, and wisdom is letting go. I'm trying to let go....of guilt, resentment, shame, anger, embarrassment, of expectations, wrong-thinking, rigidity, judgment. I am affirming much more.....love, hope, connection, harmony, unity, beauty, joy, gratitude, acceptance, forgiveness. Wouldn't the world be a wonderful place if everyone abandoned the love of power and affirmed the power of Love.

Love to all....no exceptions!

Dyeing for fun

2008-09-28T17:45:00.000-07:00

These are pictures of one of my practice tie-dye experiments. I tried a heart and almost made it. You can see Sasha loves hats and everything becomes a hat to her. The photo on the left is a pinafore dress with a long sleeve onesie under it, the one on the right is called an all-in-one dress, with a snap crotch. Yesterday I created a perfect spiral, but can't post the photos yet.

Here are some pictures of what I've been doing lately in order to maintain some sanity during the presidential campaign blitz. I promised myself I wouldn't sign up for any more online classes, but this one grabbed me. It's called More Journal Making for the Fiber Artist. I've posted a link to the teacher's website. This only took a few hours to make, and I like that kind of project. This is a trifold journal about 6 x 9 in.

May I encourage each reader to create something JUST FOR FUN to remind us that our economic woes, our day-to-day grind, our worries and our cares will make time for themselves and have the potential to eat away at our peace of mind. Re-minding ourselves that we have the power to create a little piece (or peace) of heaven here on earth is always a choice. One of our purposes in human form might be to BE the eye of the hurricane amidst the chaos swirling around us. May we all be blessed in our endeavors of creation, in whatever form we choose to create. Love to all.

First, thanks.

2008-09-16T18:51:00.000-07:00

Wow! My mind is truly boggled. I must thank leashypoodle, janine and sarah for comments which were encouraging, to say the least. I am absolutely blown away by the fact that this blog might be read by someone I don't know, let alone some so far away. Your messages were truly appreciated.

Which brings me to what's on my mind tonight. Upon reflection, it is amazing to me to remember how many times I've been searching for a path, an answer, a feeling, an insight, and how many times a "coincidental" sentence I've heard in passing, a line in a song, a scene in a movie, or even an out-of-the-blue phone call has given me the exact answer to what I've needed most. I don't believe it's coincidental; maybe synchronistic, but certainly not accidental. I believe when we stay open, without preconceived notions, stuck beliefs, or personal stubbornness, the answers and insights we are seeking are right in front of us, and come in the form we can recognize. I think one of the definitions of humility is having a measure of faith that whatever we need is coming our way, and we will hear and accept it when it comes. So many times in my life, someone has reached out and touched my heart without them ever knowing they made such a difference. And so I must remember that even little ole me might touch a life somewhere clear across the globe, or that someone on the other side of the country can give me hope. And the result is GRATITUDE, which is one of the greatest principles in the Universe. "They" say (whoever are "they", anyway?), that if you are stuck, or feeling low or uncertain or not confident, then find something to be grateful for and your whole outlook shifts. I believe that. The energy we carry with gratitude changes the feeling for everyone with whom we come in contact. And that is how we can make a difference, one person at a time. So, THANK YOU for caring enough to send out rays of hope. Let's all keep changing the planet, one person, one smile, one thank you at a time.
Love to all.

Maybe a quick end?

2008-09-13T16:12:00.001-07:00

Well, I haven't run out of things to think or to say, but I truly question why anyone would want to read a blog written by me. Surely my children have heard it all, or if not, don't desire to hear more from The Mom. The only one who thinks I have anything at all worth listening to is me. Isn't that the way it is? I spent my first half century saying nothing important, and now that I feel I actually have something important to say, no one wants to hear it. I know if you're into genealogy and future generations, you might think you'd like to pass things on to kids and grandkids to show them their heritage or whatever. So, here's what I think:
If you want to understand the Ultimate Reality, simplify the process and undertake ONE, and only one practice, and then do that one thing until you've gleaned all you need from it. "They" say it takes 90 days minimum to affect a change in yourself, but remember those 90 days come one day at a time, one minute at a time, and being present in that minute is a huge practice. And I also think the word "practice" says it all. We usually don't get to mastery----until we get to mastery. Yes, this life is full of double-speak.
Here is only one example from my own life to illustrate the point I'm trying to make. It is for posterity.
September marks many emotional anniversaries for my family. My mother was born in September, and both my mother and father died in September. In fact, last weekend was the anniversary of their deaths 32 years apart, so maybe that's why they've been on my mind a lot.
There are traits my mother had which I've spent my whole life trying to overcome. One is that she was tremendously judgmental, critical, racially prejudiced, and an angry victim. O.K., that's not all she was, and she outgrew many of those traits by her death. But since I was a baby-boomer, and she lived through two world wars and the depression, her experiences were clouded by fear and cultural/racial prejudice. It was the way it was. So, my youth was spent with a victim archetype, where blame was the mode of the day. Somehow, complaining was modeled to us---after all, she had plenty to complain about during the depression and wars. So of course, I picked up the pattern and learned to blame and complain. I didn't realize how miserable I was making myself, let alone everyone around me. When I took the personal growth seminars in the 80's, that was the first thing I understood----blaming didn't work, it just made me miserable. Taking responsibility for my feelings and actions was tremendously empowering. It was the first experience I had of Free Will. One sentence I heard which became like a mantra was, "You are responsible for everything that happens to you." I spent 20 years trying to understand that one sentence. Another one was, "You have as much as you're willing to be responsible for." I still am trying to get the full meaning of that one.
But, the thing that helped me more than anything, was learning the 10 yamas and niyamas of yoga, like the ten commandments, the 5 Do's and 5 Don'ts. One of these is Santosha, or contentment. One of our instructors had us take one principle at a time, and practice it for a day or a week, or a month, or a year, or just an hour. Being aware on one principle at a time is an amazingly difficult thing to do. Our minds want to race all over the place. But I knew in my heart, I had to practice Santosha, because of the way I had been raised, so I chose to practice for 90 days. What an education!!!! The first thing I noticed was how much I complain. Next, I noticed how it made me feel. Then I noticed how hard it was to not complain. Finally, I decided I had to break it down. So, I PRACTICED not complaining. That's it. Everytime I started to complain, I just clamped my jaw shut or bit my tongue. It took about a month to stop the habit of complaining. Then I realized that the opposite of complaining was gratitude. So I tried to find one thing a day to be grateful for. It was a practice. After about a month, I started noticing a major shift in my happiness level. There were actual moments I NOTICED that I felt happy. After a few weeks I began to notice that I was calmer, more grateful, and whoa! even content! Truly, after about 90 days I had made a major shift. And now I have a tool in my back pocket so whenever I find myself complaining, and I still do, I know I can STOP, FEEL, NOTICE, SHIFT, and CHOOSE. And with all of that, I also notice my breathing slowing down, my comfort level improving, and I know that I can get back to feeling the way I want to feel.
They say that the hologram of the WHOLE is fully contained in a single cell, or even atom. In yoga, they believe that if you fully meditated on only ONE thing, you would understand and unlock the secret of the whole universe. In my lifetime, I don't believe I could do that--I'm not built that way. But I CAN take one thing at a time and try to glean the importance of that one principle and use it for bettering myself. I have the gift of Free Will, which means I can choose how to feel, how to think, how to create the best human being I can be. I am untimately responsible for what I become--in essence, I am responsible for everything....by being responsible for what I create and who I create myself to be. Don't I want to be the best I can be? Don't we all?

Now, if you think I've said it all, please leave a comment so I'll know if I need to quit blogging.

What do we really know?

2008-09-09T18:08:00.000-07:00

Sunset over Yellowstone Lake, August 2008.
The Blue Ridge Parkway.

O.K. I took out the last blog. It's not that I'm embarrassed about it; I think it was pretty well written, and it had some good ideas. But that's just what they were--ideas, thoughts, opinions, and personal ones at that.

I was talking to one of my longest (not oldest) friends today, and out of her mouth came the words, vehemently, "We've just GOT to keep that Obama out of the White House!" And I realized how opinionated that was, and I realized I am equally opinionated, and I wonder, when do opinions turn into self-righteousness? What makes me think I know anything more than anyone else? I do my homework, study the issues, study the principles, form an opinion about what direction I think is best. But others are equally educated and intelligent, and their opinions are different than mine. Who determines who is right? Each person has to search his/her own internal compass for direction. Each person has to decide what is right personally, and then follow the Internal Guide, because that is the only way we can find peace inside. And yes, again, this is my personal opinion which might differ from yours.

The other thing is semantics. We spend so much time holding our own positions about things when the real difference might just be in the words we're using. For example, even though I was raised Mormon and have the vocabulary of one, when I was teaching non-denominational yoga to 35 kids in each class at SLCC, I had to find neutral languaging so that I wouldn't chase off various cultural and religious students. I had to find a way to speak so people wouldn't turn off their ears and minds, and some valuable seed ideas might find some room. When I speak of The Universe, or Infinite Intelligence, I have to trust that the ears that hear the words know of what I speak, and that my heart is in the right place, rather than the words being culturally acceptable. I happen to believe that we are all the same species: Children of a Heavenly Father who loves us, whether that sounds like scripture or whether I say it as Namaste, which literally means, "The Divine which is in me honors and acknowledges the Divine which is in you. When we meet in that place, we are One." Is it different in meaning, semantics, or is it a place in the heart to give respect to those I love who have differing opinions and positions? I want to honor ALL through the place of the heart and soul. Namaste.

Wanting things to be different

2008-09-03T11:50:00.000-07:00

After a beautiful summer, much too short, the weather did a left turn this week. Saturday was 99 degrees, Monday was lightning, thunder, hail, rain, and cold, cold, cold. We turned the heat on--September 1st. I'm just not ready to let go of summer yet. In fact, that got me thinking of all of the things in life with which we just struggle. Letting go is one of the tough life lessons, and one of the things that create suffering, according to ancient wisdom traditions. We suffer because we want things to be different than they are. We struggle to hold on, we resist the changes which inevitably come. We want more, different, better. We'd rather have the past because we've been there and survived, or, we'd rather have the future, because anything is better than the present. Or......you can make up your own statements to put in the blank. Sometimes this resistance takes the form of waiting....waiting until the kids are in school, or older, until there's more money, until things settle down, until ....(fill in the blank). One of the great teachings of yoga, or buddhism, or taoism, or hinduism, or any of the Perennial Philosophies of the world, is the importance of living in present time, in the moment, in reality, to show up in the present moment, where our body, breath, mind, thoughts, spirit, soul are all in one place together. It's called integrity, or wholeness, or even unity. And even though it sounds simple and logical, it is one of the most difficult things for a human being to master. It is also one of the key points to de-stressing. We stop the mind from yanking us around, feel our feet on the ground, feel breath moving in and out of our nostrils and lungs, check in with our feelings, notice that we are not being chased by lions and tigers and bears, oh my! We are integrated, we are capable, we are present, and in this moment of presence, even Presence, there is the chance to choose. Freedom to choose only exists in the present moment. Freedom to choose includes how to respond, how to act instead of react, what would we rather be thinking or feeling, what we could choose to think instead of what the automatic mind-feed is. Remember that the mind , attached to ego, likes to think it's in charge. It feeds us any number of random thoughts any time it wants. The trick to maneuvering around the "mind-field" is to determine which thoughts are trying to get through to us to help us, and which thoughts are being randomly generated to drag us down, to explode in our faces, so to speak. I think that is the journey of consciousness....to notice and to choose, to recognize in each moment that we have a choice, the greatest of all gifts from God---the ultimate Free Will, to choose our response in each present moment. That is the Precious Present.

Just some quilt pictures

2008-09-01T20:22:00.000-07:00

Here are two of my favorite quilts. I'm quite proud of sock monkey, since it is an original--well, almost. I had a little image of sock monkey which I enlarged, but putting it all together into a quilt design was a fun, creative project. It was made for Allison's new baby when the Dr. told her he was pretty sure it was a boy! HA!

Sock Monkey lives in the back of Allison's car and goes for walks in the stroller with Sasha. I think Cedar has the sock monkey apron of the same fabric.

The pink and brown quilt is called an Apple Core design, and is quite tricky, since it's sometimes difficult to sew curved lines. The scalloped edges are also technical, but they went all very smoothly. My quilt guru introduced me to Roxanne's fabric glue. You might say this quilt was glued together.

I think my next project must be a Batman blanket for Cedar to match his pillow case. I think he's the only one I haven't made a quilt for, right? Cedar, if you're into other interests besides Batman, let me know, O.K?

love you all

This 'n' That -The garden

2008-08-31T14:01:00.000-07:00

Photos and pictures make a blog so much more interesting...

(I've discovered that if I click on a photo on someone else's blog, the pictures show up bigger. You can see how happy John is in his protected shelter.)

This is a photo of John in his garden, under the shade awning he invented--(right side).

The trusty shed is well used for everything, the grapes are on the vine in abundance. In fact, there is an overabundance of everything, and the neighbors are starting to avoid us now. I'm thinking of putting a sign out front that says FREE TO A GOOD HOME--ADOPT A ZUCCHINI. Since this photo was taken, we had to make modifications to prevent the new puppy from romping through the produce, for various reasons--one of which is he eats it, preferring cucumbers, and being competition to Will, Jonas and Sasha. Also, the zucchini has doubled in size, the onions have been harvested, we've had a book group tour our "organic heaven" after they read Barbara Kingsolver's Animal, Vegetable, Miracle book, and of course we had to serve them fresh tomatoes (nothing better!) and zucchini cookies (new recipe-a keeper).

So, yesterday the weather was 99 degrees, and tomorrow they're expecting snow above 8000 feet--the 1st day of September. We'll be picking the first ears of corn today for dinner, and then we'll hope the tomatoes don't freeze.

We do live in a beautiful place, even if the weather is capricious and fickle.

Random thoughts on Karma

2008-08-30T19:20:00.000-07:00

Volumes have been written for many millenia on Karma, so this is nothing new. But this post is about a way I like to think the world is.
One short sentence about karma is that what we do (or think or feel) comes back to us. What we send out, returns to us, like ripples going out on a pond, and returning to the point of entry. In my personal experience, nothing I do is ever lost or wasted, and I don't need to keep track of it all, because Something or Someone Greater Than I Am, keeps track. Here's the fine tweaking: If I put something out there, something comes back in equal measure, but it may not come back looking like I sent it. Here is one example.
I like to quilt. It's fun and creative and I feel like I'm expressing myself in ways that feed my soul. Many quilt/fabric stores furnish fabric for Quilts4Cancer if someone will do the work. So, I've made 3 quilts now. I put in my time and effort, and my expenses, because I have to pay for the batting and the machine quilting, but it's a way I can serve and contribute in a very small way. I turned in my most recent quilt on Sunday. My reward is feeling like I'm useful. Now, here's how karma works, in my book: Thursday we went to Snowbird to go on the Alpine Slide, the Zip Line, the Bungy Trampoline, and if we had time, the Tram. It's expensive! A day pass is $32 per person, or a single ride ticket is $8, $10, $12, depending. When we got to the ticket booth, someone came up to us with a free day pass he wasn't going to use, and just plain gave it to us. When I offered to pay or tip, he said, "No, a thank you is enough." So we thanked him profusely, and had a great time with all the activities we could handle. What went out was a quilt, what came back was a day of fun. I call it a great exchange. I have hundreds of stories just like that one. I choose to believe that if I do things for the right reasons ("just because, with no strings attached") I get rewards that are unforeseen and magical. The trick is NOT to expect anything at all, but to RECOGNIZE when the magic happens and just say,
"THANK YOU!" I think there's a great quote by Meister Eckhardt that says, (paraphrased) "If the only prayer you ever say in your life is THANK YOU, that will suffice."

2008-08-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

Why is it so hard to relax?
I've been going to an aerobics class (believe it!). Of course, you don't know that it's for senior citizens and I'm the youngest one there...the oldest being 93, who comes with her 72 yr. old daughter. I'm amazed at the agility, fortitude, and aliveness of this group of 25-30 people. The instructor is my age, has been teaching aerobics there for over 25 years, probably longer, and some of the women have been going that long. Isn't that amazing?
Now, coming from a yoga background, where the most important pose is the corpse pose, or relaxation, or savasana, I look forward to the end, when we can stretch out on our mat with the cool, damp, essential oil-infused washcloth the teacher provides. I put it over my eyes and breathe deeply. After two breaths (I'm not kidding or exaggerating) I feel the air around me stir, hear everyone talking, look around the room, and everyone is packed up and leaving. With the opportunity to do nothing but stay and breathe, which is such a gift, why is it people are so uncomfortable letting go, so eager to be one their way? I'm sure these octogenarians don't have to run off to pick kids up at day care, or fix breakfast for their husbands, or even go shopping at Nordstroms. Yesterday I determined I would complete 10 breaths before I got up. The teacher was the only one left in the room, and she had her stuff all packed up.
What amazes me most about all of this, is that these aerobics classes are full, while my yoga classes were sparcely attended. Relaxation is neither valued nor wanted, but everyone needs it. Being quiet, breathing, listening inward, feeling sensations in the body, noticing the wanderings of the mind are all such gifts. May we all have a moment to just BE.
xoxox

One Way to Begin

2008-08-27T20:15:00.000-07:00

I love to read the blogs of my family. It's a great way to catch up on their busy lives, plus I get to see wonderful photos of my grandchildren. I've never felt like anyone would like to read what I might have to say, but maybe one day I might say something profound. Who knows? Miracles happen every day.
I thought I'd give the blog the focus of "What's on my mind?" since most of the teachings I've been studying for the past 25 years are about the way we think (or not), and the nature of the mind. I'm also at an age where I'm not sure how to proceed in my life. Being over 60 is sometimes tough, and I need to explore that. It's an age where I feel like I have something to give, I've acquired a measure of experience in many areas, but there doesn't seem to be a venue for what I have to offer. It's the aging and saging (don't read that as "sagging", although that would also apply). (Should it be spelled ageing and sageing?) Anyway, if what I've experienced helps someone else, I'd love to offer my services. Advice is free, and you get what you pay for.
So, here's to a new adventure...exploring what's on my mind. Maybe you'd like to leave a message about what's on your mind. Be my guest. I think I'll answer any post and any question. It might be interesting and fun.