War…What is it good for?

Absolutely Nothing!

My oldest sister was born at the beginnings of World War II. A war baby to a very young mother. I was born at the endings of the Korean War. Another war baby to a still very young mother.

My point…I have, we have, always lived in a state of war. Or “conflicts”

Myself… The Korean Conflict. Viet Nam, The Cold War, The Bay of Pigs, the American occupation of the Dominican Republic, The Irish Troubles, The Angolan Conflict, the Six-day war, Afghanistan, The Middle East, …ad Infinium. From 1945 to 1971 the world saw over 200 conflicts, wars, uprising, battles of attrition, and enemy encounters alone. That means…From my birth until my graduation from high school our world was engaged in approximately 180 regional and worldwide battles.

I watched the Russian ruler Khrushchev on television; pounding his shoe on a table, declaring he would bury us. I worried about someone attacking Iowa with an “A-Bomb”.

Our youth went off to other countries, for no understandable reason. Returning with a great deal of ongoing emotional and spiritual anguish, physical damage, or dead. I marched with Viet Nam Vets against the war, helped to hold up a flag of Peace at our local Iowan government center. I thought I was all that. I was not. I was just a young unfashionable hippie in patched up jeans.

So now we have another battle; a peaceful country being invaded by its bully of a neighbor, a raving despot determined to win back the glory days of Russian imperialism.

And this is indeed another world conflict, with all of the sanctions, protests. And boy howdy I am right there, angry, tearful, appalled. I want Ukraine to be left alone to continue its move towards a peaceful future. I despise Putin. I despise him and all of his sick cronies.

And now the hard part, the little niggle in my mind. Currently this year, today, the world has 45 of these events happening, everywhere. Death of innocents, invasions, destruction. We have grown so used to this. We ignore it when we wake in the morning.

Loss of freedom is a thing. We are soft here in the North American continent. We equate loss of freedom to being told to get a shot or wear a mask. We equate that to fascism, to socialism. We don’t care about capitalistic spoilage of our environment. We care about only the bottom line…our personal comfort.

STUPID

BAH!!!

We white, pampered citizens are awfully spoiled and whiney

We are for some part a racist, non-caring, angry people here. We (I) jump on temporary bandwagons when we (I) have real trouble shoved in our (my) face.

We are soft, we need to care more, we need to toughen up to help save our world.

The saddest pain

Yesterday we received the news about our friend Ahne. The news that she had passed. By her own volition.I can’t claim to have been Ahne’s close friend. I saw her seldom, and we really had no heart to heart conversations. I cannot, however, remove this sadness from my spirit. The idea of her pain, her hurt, her despair. It continues to revolve around that hamster wheel of my brain. At odd points during the day I am struck painfully with her death. I woke in the night, often, and imagined her.

So…I think I would like to talk about my admiration for Ahne’s fierce spirit, write about what delighted me about her.

She was so fricking feisty. Her indignation at a wrong was a delight to witness. She did not hold back, she was honest.

I enjoyed watching her argue with her father, not because I enjoyed the anger, but because I enjoyed the pure spunk of her.

Her smile, Ahne had the biggest, the best, the kindest smile. And she cared about others, about their needs. It was not uncommon for her to take care of others, to help.

Her heart, her deep commitment to feeling; I admired that. Her passion; I honored that.

Her defense of her children; once Easton showed me his Trump cap, with pride! I responded huh, I guess I should get my Kamala Harris hat out then. Oh Lord, if looks could destroy…The look I received in defense of her son was totally the look of a mamma bear.

Her brilliant intelligence; Ahne, was smart, gracious, , she had an engaging ability to be present with others.

Her friends; so many people love Ahne, so many people are impacted by her painful passing. I hope she feels this love. She deserves to feel this love.

Ahne, I cannot wrap my head around this, of all the passing’s I have experienced in the past year, yours my beautiful, wonderful, magnificent woman, yours has destroyed me.

You are missed, you are loved, you are honored. I send great love to you, to your family, children, and your friends. We all feel the greatness of your presence in our lives

On Being Enough

fd31e5ac5c1fe532146391bdfa5670ee.jpgYour time is not wasted.

Though you may have been told it has been.

Your life is enough.

Though you may have been told it is not.

Do not think your years of life are unworthy,

that you have only worked to survive.

That you have not made a mark on our world

by waking each day, by struggling to pay your bills.

Though you have been told perhaps you have not.

Not everyone has the freedom to be a guru, a prophet.

Not everyone has the chance to be free.

But your life is not wasted.

You are real, breathing, alive.

And every day you live,

you make a mark so huge

the sky opens and takes it in,

takes in your breath,

your struggles,

your pain,

your wonder of stolen moments of happiness.

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Shall We Dance

I have been collecting my bones. Looking in all the right places, and all the wrong. The bones of me have been scattered, some left with past lovers, some left with past homes, most just left.

As I collect them I learn that some of my most lost bones, some of my darkest, some of my shadow bones are yearning to reconnect with all of me. I learn that I need these dark shadows, The light of me yearns to rest in shadow, to dance with my shadow. My bones are creaky, unused, disconnected, unloved.

I am collecting the bones of me, gathering them into my soul, warming them, healing them. Letting them be me

.

This new truth

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I have started this post at least 5 times, my mind wanting to say things until my fingers reached the keys. I have many subjects roaming through my thoughts. Remembrances, Kids, Isolation, Relationships, Stories, Grieving, and most of all my Daughters.

I will start with Maggie. Maggie is a manager of a health clinic. She has been working long days, with many days in a row. She has set up a drive through testing site at her clinic, converted much of it to a respiratory infection treatment site, all while still maintaining the clinics’ basic function as a… well…a basic health clinic. Her children are home, being schooled on the internet, her husband still working hard at his job. They are all upholding a strong family life, living in this new normal that has taken over the world. It is hard, it is scary, and it is unmistakably strong. I admire them all and love them greatly , Maggie, Devon, Michael and Andrew. they are living and living strong.

And Sarah, whose wedding to Seth was to have been yesterday, on a tropical island surrounded by family and friends. A wedding planned for over a year. A miraculous, wonderful, magical time. I grieve for them. They are heartbroken. At the same time they are both working from home, buying their first home together, and living a full life. I also admire them. They are amazing. The wedding will still happen, but not for a year, still in the same marvelous villa, with hopefully the same friends. I know we will be there, and I finally will have my opportunity to perform the ceremony wedding two people I dearly love.

I love my daughters more than the world

sisyers in boats

I am sad for our world, We all are grieving in some way or the other. People have lost their lives, their friends, their family members. Jobs have ended, people are scared, isolated, confused. We are all touched by this strange new reality, and all struggling to make some sense of this oddness.

And we are united as well in this, in this adventure, this sadness, this strength.

Let’s not forget that we have this, that we own this, that we have done it before and we can do it again. The world is slowing down and resting, we are becoming more…or less…self aware. we are all thinking. Let’s keep loving and being. Let’s keep living.

horizonboat

Music

I have music in my universe. Worldly music in mundane moments. Driving in the car, I hear the song of the wind through the windows. From my front door I hear the music of a train in the distance; it’s brakes singing a song of lonely longing and hopeful sighs.

I hear the power of leaves rushing in the wind, and the percussion rattle of acorns falling onto the ground.

Music…birds whistling from the cattails in our swamp, little frogs chorusing, bats whisking; tree to tree, rain dropping into grass, car tires swishing on wet pavement.

My musical universe wraps around my soul, brings me peace, brings silence to my heart.

Holy Hannah it’s been way too long

I have not posted for ever! Time has flown, I have been occupied. And now it is time to begin again!!!

I am delighted to say that I will be reading Palms again at the Mind Body Spirit Fall Festival on St Cloud on October 12.

Mind Body Spirit is a wonderful place to be, a group of lovely people who really care for the world. I am happy to be there once again! Please come to visit, there will be many wonderful practitioners to choose from. And take time to step over to the MBS to shop for fabulous items to enhance your personal spiritual being!

Dorothy is hanging in Heaven

Mom passed today…years ago.

It has taken me years to process.

Because, lets face it, I sucked as a daughter. I was arrogant, unbending, non loving.

I responded to the lacks in my life with anger, and failed to understand that she was, during our falling outs, responding to the lacks, and traumas, in her own life.

I know she tried with everything she had. I know mostly because I followed her patterns, and made many of her own choices, and many of my own not so positive additions.

Mom was blessed with daughters and sons who treated her with the honor she deserved, and for them I am greatful.

I was blessed with daughters who did not follow my path, and have remained steadfast to me. I am grateful

So..today, my mother, I am telling you I love you, and for you I am greatful. Live well out there in the universe, be love.

Solstice Sister

Cheri my sister!!
Solstice daughter.
Winter birth.
Mom told me when I was little
That a great Gale blew you in through
The window,
And that is how you were born
So you were named..
Cherished Gale.
It is fitting

So right.
Solstice sister
Winter birth.
You are a gale of winter breath
Frosty, refreshing, beautiful.
You are the breeze
Of promised spring.
It is fitting
It is right!

A New, Clear Perspective

Just last week the terror of gun violence hit home hard in our family.  Two of our grandsons were in a school that was held on a 5 hour lock down due to a tweeted threat to “shoot up the school”.  Like many, when I heard, my heart raced, my throat dried, and I felt a cold, powerful fear.  And anger, I felt anger.  How dare someone put my children in danger!  Like many, I spent the afternoon worried about the outcome.  And anger, I felt anger.  And my daughter, the mother of my threatened grandsons presented me a new perspective, a clear perspective.

frightened child in boatThe boy, a 15 year old with a diagnosis of autism, had been in the school this entire time, unarmed, frightened, the tweet a misjudged political statement on gun violence and the ability of “adults” to protect our children.

It seems the school knew right away where the tweet appeared from, it was not a hidden account, knew the boy had a diagnosis, and knew he was with all of the other kids locked down in the classroom.  Yet, for hours, our news stations, ran non stop coverage of this new “threat”  Police, FBI, Helicopters, blocked roads, all this occurred with unnecessary alarm.

And finally, after hours of terror, the boy was arrested from his classroom, thrown in jail, and allowed 5 minutes a day with his parents.  He is still there, in jail, broken, suicidal, crying, in total despair.  Not receiving the help he needs to save his spirit, just being punished.  And me, I am ashamed of my hatred for him and ashamed of the Orono Police and Schools for politicizing this event, rather than help save this boy.

I am told he is gentle, kind, and has never been threatening.  Like any child with guncontrolautism he has poor impulse control.  And not thinking, thought he might be helping.

I do so believe in gun control, I believe in peace, I believe in helping our children survive.  I believe in preventing and healing, not terrorizing our young.

Please visit this site and donate what you can to help him, help his family, and help this community move forward into a future of light not one of anger and darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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