Sign, sign, everywhere a sign...

...blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind...

I find signs amusing sometimes...like this one:



More great signs to come...stay tuned...

History of the Vibrator...and one wonders...

...why such a simple, pleasure-giving device has such a history?

A great article - found here - in the TimesOnline UK edition recaps the history of the vibrator. Seems the handy little devices started life as medical equipment (which most of us already knew) and only gradually made their way into the hands of the women they were designed to help.

Interesting stuff...a good read...and begs the same questions I've asked since I was old enough to have the faintest tingle between the thighs and the awareness that something was "wrong" about that sweet tingle...that I wasn't supposed to feel that and NEVER supposed to talk about feeling it: How in heaven's name did we become so screwed up about sex?

Case in point: the article talks about the vibe's rise in popularity and acceptance, right up until silent films began depicting it being used sexually...after which it disappeared from advertisements and ready availability for 50 years. What the...? It was all fine and dandy when it was a medical device but the minute it's associated with sex, back into the closet it goes!

We've certainly come a long way, but I'm not sure it's all been in the right direction. No...that's not true...I'm entirely sure that much of it has been backward. We no longer, praise be, deny that women do, indeed, enjoy sex...and, at least in American culture, we don't openly deny that they should. But you can't buy a nice vibrator at the drugstore, either. Well, you can...but it will be called a massager and will show pictures of perfectly manicured female hands blissfully massaging neck and shoulders, with copy that reads, "Relaxes all kinds of muscles, relieves tension, soothes and refreshes...". The best of those illustrations are for the pale, creamy colored plastic vibes shaped like vaguely penis-like rockets, shown cozied up to the little indentation where the cheekbone and neck meet. Puh-leeze! Who massages their jawbone with a hard plastic penis? For that matter, who massages their shoulders with one?

And then, there's the issue of how female celebrities and models look or are made to look in photographs and movies. For one thing, they don't look that way. They're real people and real people, without exception, have hair, bumps, lumps, cellulite, discoloration, dark eye circles, thinning hair, enlarged pores, and a host of other beautiful flaws that just go with the human territory. You won't find many pictures of them...in fact, you find photoshopped miracles of inhuman beauty everywhere. If a young girl gets hold of a men's magazine with production levels of any quality, they might (and do) get the idea that "pretty", "sexy", and "beautiful" are all synonymous with hairless, flawless, perfectly made-up, and forever young. What a disservice!

Yes, I know...I'm not saying anything new. We're all aware of the issues. But are we aware enough? Has our awareness led to action? Have we, personally...you, me, your next door neighbor, your daughter/mother/wife/girlfiend...have we done anything about it? Have we begun to talk more openly and honestly about sexuality? Have we admitted, even to each other, that we actually own sex toys? Have we made sure our daughters see as many examples of real, beautiful, sexy, flawed-and-thus-flawless women in their lives as they do artifically enhanced paper dolls? Have our celebrity women talked candidly about their profession and about how what they portray is not who they are? Have we ended the disgusting habit of mentally clawing the eyes of every woman who shows a bit more skin than we think proper, or who openly dates multiple men or has multiple sexual partners? Have we given up judging each other more harshly than anyone?

And while we're at it (though this is a slight left turn), have we wised up and started giving violent, horror-filled movies depicting scenes of bloody dismemberment, unspeakable cruelty, and death by the minute the same XXX ratings we reserve for movies that depict sexual acts? I'm no big fan of pornography because of the distorted way it portrays sex, but I fail to see how it can be worse than "Saw". In fact, given a choice between my 17-year-old watching porn and watching a crazy, demented, violent blood-fest, I'd have to say, "Bring on the f***ing!" At least sex is a life-affirming act.

I don't have answers; I have questions, and I have to keep asking them because none of the answers so far have made much sense.

Nothing succeeds like success...

I weighed in today for the first time in at least two weeks, maybe three. In that space of time, I have been anything but diligent about following my Weight Watchers plan. Tracking? We don't need no stinking tracking! Well...actually...we do...but you get my drift. I've eaten all kinds of stuff that really wasn't in my best interest...chocolate chip cookies (that's cookIES, as in multiples), ribs (the whole slab, not one of those wimpy sampler portions), grilled burgers made with ground beef so fat-laden that it was barely light pink, hot dogs (good beef hot dogs, but still...) - and the list goes on. So how did I still manage to lose weight?

Well, here's my theory: I think I've changed my regular eating habits so much that it offsets my occasional indulgences. Before WW, I ate enough fried food in a week to keep the people producing frying oil in business for a long time. My arteries were so accustomed to their daily grease allotment that they suffered withdrawals for a while. And it was a struggle to give it up. I began working in restaurants in my teens and learned to make killer deep-fried food - seafood, mushrooms, pickles, chicken (oh yeah, I can make some fried chicken)...and fried green tomatoes. I no longer get the oohs and ahhs that came from putting a plate of golden, crispy, sizzling chicken fingers or succulent fried shrimp in front of my friends and family. I miss that.

But you know what? It's ok. I miss that ego-boost now and then, but I don't miss the 68.8 pounds that I'm not hauling around anymore. I don't miss buying size 28 slacks or 3X shirts. And I definitely don't miss the wheezing wreck I used to be when I climbed the hill at 5th street or attempted the 61 steps into the back of the building. Nope. Not at all.

So...thinking back over the last couple of weeks...I've eaten when I was hungry, indulged some less-than-stellar cravings...and still lost weight. I didn't gorge on fried food. I ate quite healthily at work every day; indulgences were saved for dinner out with my husband and the occasional warm cookie. That's a life I can definitely live with. And seeing a weight loss today instead of the gain I was afraid I would see has actually motivated me to get back on track.

So...here's to the next (and final) 70 pounds and a life that just gets better all the time. Thanks for letting me celebrate a little...and happy Monday!

Acorns for peace

Datinggod -(a GREAT blog) most recent post pointed me toward Yoko Ono's new blog. What a great find! Read her profile...and the lovely concept of air dancing. I'm air dancing now...

More wisdom from Mom and good stewardship...

(from a personal email sent to ChattanoogaPagansATyahoogroupsDOTcom, June 2, 2008:

When I was growing up, I thought my mother was the cheapest, stingiest woman on the planet! She reused EVERYTHING!

My dad carried sandwiches for lunch every day for years so we went through a lot of sliced bread. She carefully shook the crumbs out of the empty bread bags, folded them, and put them inside another saved bread bag in the drawer. Those bags got used for everything. We wrapped left over biscuits after dinner in them (which were, in turn, resued as biscuit toast for breakfast the next morning). We saved receipts in them. We split them down the seam and used them to cover a bowl that didn't have a lid (secured with a rubber band saved from something else).

Wax paper was the absolute gold standard for wrapping sandwhiches, and if Dad remembered to bring it home, it was sometimes resued, too. There was no plastic cutlery in our house. If Dad needed a spoon or fork, Mom took one out of the drawer and Dad brought it home to be washed. By the way, my Mom STILL uses much of the same set of stainless tableware we had back then, so I know that process worked!

Empty mayonnaise jars were used as canning jars, nail containers, bean canisters, etc. When Mom bought things like Zip-Lock bags, they were reused, too. In fact, she still saves them and has so many empty, washed clean, and carefully saved bags that she probably won't have to buy another for years! Popcorn came in just one bag, not a box with six bags inside it, each one wrapped individually in plastic. Cheese had one wrapper on it instead of an outer wrap and a wrapper around each slide. Things that grew out of style or didn't look quite as shiny and new as before were still used as long as they retained usefullness; Mom still has the same Charles Chips can she had when I was a child and still stores flour in it, and it works just fine.

She made new clothing out of old clothing and out of cloth flour sacks (not seen much anymore, but they do still make them), dust cloths out of old tee shirts, biscuit/cookie cutters from empty vegetable cans. We picked up hickory nuts and made hickory nut pies instead of pecan, made the best pear preserves in the world from knotty old Keiffer pears we picked up from old trees in the pasture, and ate persimmons, blackberries, dewberries, and mucadines we found wild in the woods. She and Dad grew much of what we ate, saving seed from one harvest to start the next. Dad kept a few cattle almost all the time, selling a few and using a couple a year to stock the freezer. The beef we ate was wrapped in a single piece of butcher paper with the contents written right on the paper, not in a stryofoam tray with an absorbant pad and a plastic overwrap with a paper label. Found objects and windfalls were put to good and lasting use; when my aunt was given l arge commercial spools of sewing thread, Mom and my grandmother carefully selected multiple strands of complimentary colors and wound them into balls of "yarn," crocheting clothing from it, some of which I still have and wear.

After that wonderful example of good stewardship, all I could do when I grew up was run madly from it and try to become much more sophisticated. I learned how to buy plastic bags and only use them once...how to through away empty glass jars because I didn't can my own food (why, when it was so eash to buy it at the grocery?), ignore healthful, readily available food because it was too much effort to pick it, and to just chuck my old tee shirts and buy nice, neatly trimmed wash cloths new and use them for dusting and cleaning. Food scraps were just trash. I never reused bread bags because when I did, my friends said, "Ewwwwwwwww! That's not sanitary!" Somehow it didn't occur to me that A) the bread came wrapped in it and we didn't say, "Ewwww!" and B) I was over 20 years old and hadn't died from it in all that time.

So here I am, many years later, looking at Mom (right next door) and finally thinking, "You were one smart woman!" She was a much better steward of the land we have chosen to call home than I ever was. I'm learning all over again what it means to keep the promises Three Crows and I made when we moved up here. There are so many things that I can do that not only reduce my impact on the environment but save resources that my family can use for other things.

What has helped more than anything is awareness. From the moment we stood in what is now our back yard and promised to be good stewards and partners with this land, we have been more aware. By stating and sharing our intention out loud, we moved it from a nice thought to an act of will. As simple as that sounds, I believe it has been key to moving us more and more in the right direction. And conversations like this one have the same effect. As we raise our awareness, more opportunities will present themselves.

Is our family "there" yet? Heck, no! But we're closer...much closer...and like all journeys, this one starts with a single step. With the way we work now, I'm not sure returning to my Mom's way of life is entirely possible, but many of her tricks are already serving us...both our family and the big us...well...and we're enjoying the process as well as the product.

I guess it's like the rest of life - doing the right thing feels good.

Love in abundance,

Heartsong

Wow...

...wow. wow wow wow.

Read this...
Anamnesis, or The Psychoanalysis of God
May 20, 2008 15:30

I can't find the words to express all that I felt reading this...truth...recognition...remembering...knowing...sameness...connection...wonder...awe...beautifully written, insightful, thought-provoking, awe-inspiring, wonder-striking...

Just read it.

Wow.

When you find the good stuff...

...share it!

Ran across a great blog today - PaganPerspective on Wordpress - and immediately recognized a kindred spirit in the first post on the site (apparently a re-post of an article from 2004 - still more than timely).

I tried to leave a comment but the site wasn't allowing that, so I'm tipping my pointed hat here and hoping my kudos find their way back to the author. I'll visit often, I'm sure, and hope she'll free to stop by my idea house from time to time. Hail and welcome!

Good news, bad news

Mark Morford has done it again. His latest article is a romp through the good and not-so-good developments, fall-out, and random occurances of late. It's a great read and pretty insightful. Read Mark's column here.

Mark races through the postives and negatives, finally skidding to the conclusion that maybe - just maybe - things are turning around a bit, that conservatism - that rampant virus of Rush-speak idiocy that has plagued us for the last few years - might be dead, or at least dying. Is it possible that, in the words of Melissa Ethridge, "...we are waking up from the spell those who profit from the fear cast so well; and good people of the earth can tell there is no us and them..."?

I think so. So does Mark Morford. What do you think?

Don't blog when you're exhausted...

...because you'll fall asleep at the keyboard and wipe out your entire post just before you hit the "publish" button. $*#@!

Prior to the falling asleep incident, I was celebrating the current success of my herb garden and how I have my husband to thank for it. He didn't plant the bed; I did. What he did was share his bountiful Green Man energy with me.



You see, before Three Crows came into my life, I had managed to kill house plants, tomatoes, flowers...in short, anything I tried to grow. I used to joke that I could eradicate crab grass (a common scorge of southern lawns)if I just tried to grow it.

Nowadays, however, I'm having a lot more success. The herb bed is beautiful! I love stepping off the porch and clipping handsful of fresh flavor and fragrance. Rosemary, basil, thyme, parsley, sage, cilantro, lavender, chamomile, chives, and now stevia and apple mint...they're my babies and I love them. And I just planted more...spearmint, peppermint, tarragon, tomatoes, and peppers...along with lots of flowers for the porch and deck rail boxes. Three Crows is still recovering from surgery, but he was there, guiding the efforts and sharing his energy. Amybeth (eldest of our combined girl-children) helped, too, and I think she enjoyed her first gardening efforts.





So...keep a good, green thought for continued success, and I'll share more photos with you as the babies grow. And try growing some of your own. You'll love it!

Come Saturday morning...

...I'll be doing my regular Saturday stuff and loving it.

I cherish Saturday mornings for a lot of reasons. It's the first no-alarm-clock day of every week. I get to wake up with my beloved; we cuddle and make love and laugh and wish the coffee would make itself.

After breakfast, I tackle my two Saturday chores - trash and recycling. The trash run isn't exactly fun, but it's satisfying to get the bags of yuck off property and into the landfill. Recycling, on the other hand, is one of the highlights of my week.

We do what I call "big chunk" sorting throughout the week; steel and aluminum cans go into one container, paper into another, glass and plastic into a third, or sometimes in with the paper. Come Saturday morning, I take it all outside to the big table and sort everything. It can get a little messy but I don't mind. It all gets loaded into Bessie (our trusty Ford Ranger, 190-odd thousand miles and still going strong) for the trip to the recycle center.

This is my friend G___. Actually, he's just a guy I met this morning at the center and I don't really know anything about him except that he recycles. He gives up part of his Saturday to keep some of his family's trash out of the landfill. That's good enough for me to call him a friend. He was a nice guy with a good sense of humor; when I promised him I wouldn't identify him or say where he was from, he immediately replied, "Thank God! I have to beat off the stalkers already." A good steward and a quick wit...what's not to like?

The recycle center was full of people like G___ and me today. That gives me hope. There aren't enough of us yet, but the numbers are growing, and every can, bottle, and bag that G___ and I and others like us recycle is one that doesn't wind up in the landfill. It's a small thing, but it's important and I'm happy to be part of it.

To G___ and all recyclers, reusers, reducers...thank you. Enjoy your recycling chore...it's an act of love and life.

Yes! Do this...do this do this do this!

Precycling - what a great concept!

Precycling refers to the process of reducing the amount of trash, recycleable or otherwise, on the front end...

...avoiding excessive packaging;
...refusing what you don't need;
...reducing what you do need;
...reusing what you can't reduce;
...recycling what you can't use;
...rebuying recycled material whenever possible.

When I was growing up, my parents did this all the time. I just thought they were stingy and tight with the little bit of money they had, which was cool in itself - they made a little do a whole lot. What I didn't realize is what good stewards they were. When I left home, I gradually drifted away from those practices, but I'm relearning them now.

For more good information, visit http://www.summitrecycling.org/html/prere.html (where the precycle list came from) or their parent site, http://www.highcountryconservation.org/.

Do this...this matters.

Beautiful place...beautiful attitude...

A small piece of my weight loss puzzle revealed itself yesterday.

I have been actively exercising for several months now. In the last couple of weeks, however, I've not done a thing. Sciatica has sidelined me for a little while, but I made up my mind that I would walk yesterday regardless. My husband helped by playfully saying, "...after you finish your walk," after every statement. He's good that way.

So I walked across the Walnut Street Bridge when I left work. Total walk was about a mile and a quarter...walked about 30 minutes so not a fast pace but not strolling. I thought I'd share a little of that walk with you, a 360-degree view of the beauty surrounding me...

Isn't this just an amazing place to live, work, and play? Stunning!

More importantly, I learned something really important. The last few weeks have been a struggle to stay on plan with Weight Watchers. I thought maybe I was just bored, but that's not it. I'm a good cook, I enjoy cooking, and there's plenty of variety to be had. No, it was something I couldn't put my finger on, and it was powerful enough that I was wondering if I'd reached the end of my weight loss.

But when I walked yesterday...what an eye-opener! My resolve, my excitement about feeling better and being strong, healthy, and capable came rushing back with every step! My usual stop at the grocery store didn't result in the usual urges to buy everything and eat it all immediately. I was hungry and still experienced a remarkable lack of craving. I was happy to go home and enjoy a healthy dinner, content that I was doing good things for my body.

We're told frequently that exercise is good for us and that it's the key to sustainable weight loss. What they don't tell us is that it redefines your world view. I don't know exactly how it works, but when I've had a good walk, I don't want to put junk into my body. I want to treat me like the goddess I am and be good to myself with nutritious food that doesn't contribute directly to obesity. And I don't experience the cravings for sugary junk that have plagued me lately.

Who knew? Well, I guess the experts did...but maybe I wasn't listening. I am definitely listening now.

Sit down, shut up, and be kind...

...and the three are related. Really.

One of my favorite journalists, Mark Morford of the San Francisco Chronicle, points in a recent article to research that backs up what thousands of years of mindful meditation practice has already proven - that "the regular, habitual act of stilling yourself and intentionally calming the mind and working with the breath...can inject some divine love-juice into your core and make you more sympathetic, kinder, more apt to feel a natural inclination toward generosity and compassion..." That's not news to anyone who's already doing it, but it might be a shock to the rest of the world.

Mark says it better, of course; his articles are always funny and entertaining, and he writes about stuff that matters and makes sense. If you enjoy a combination of irreverance and intelligence, wit and wonder, check Mark out. You'll feel right at home.

Fire!

Beautiful fire spinning at PUF this weekend. Gorgeous!

Hope and so much to learn...

...from the forgiveness in one woman's heart and the soul of a nation more comitted to recovery than to revenge.

CNN tells of how Rwandans are rebuilding their nation and their lives in the wake of Hutu murder of nearly a million people, mostly Tutsis.

That a woman can find it in her heart to even attempt forgiveness for such horror gives me hope.

That a nation can understand that rebuilding is more important than attempting to right unimaginable wrongs that can never be made right gives me courage.

That a man who helped to perpetrate the horror can find it within him to stand and say to survivors, families of men, women, and children who were raped, beaten, clubbed to death, buried alive, "I did this. I am guilty. And I am sorry," gives me chills.

That a woman who suffers the pain of loss every day of her life can sit next to a man who suffers the pain of guilt every day of his, and weave baskets, and make a concious choice to practice forgiveness rather than perpetuate the cycle of death humbles me beyond measure.

If we took one tiny sliver of that courage and determination and applied to to the day-to-day minutia that we waste so much precious energy on...what might our world be?

I will try...now...today...

If Iphigenia Mukantabana can weave her baskets of peace alongside Jean-Bosco Bizimana, I will weave peace daily alongside those whose actions hurt me. If Jean-Bosco Bizimana can face his victims' families and own his actions, I will summon courage to own my actions and hope those I have harmed will choose to practice forgivness toward me.

The community basket we weave will be beautiful and strong enough to hold us all.

The good thing about today is...

You didn't think I would name just one good thing, did you? If so, you must be a new reader - welcome!

I'm excited because California's Supreme Court overturned the same sex marriage ban in that state. That's a positive step and worth celebrating.

And today is Friday...another productive (sort of) work week in the can and a weekend looming. I'm going to the Pagan Unity Festival in middle Tennessee with a good friend tomorrow and looking forward to it.

Finally, a shout out to the folks at Lowe's. I had a problem there and they've surprised me with how well they've handled it. I bought a grill, a fairly expensive grill for my usual budget, and asked for it to be assembled, scheduling pick up for three days later. When I got there, they cheerfully delivered me a grill that looked like hell! It was badly scratched, dirty, and was, in fact, the one they'd had sitting outside in the weather on display. When I told them I didn't want a used grill, they checked and no more were assembled. I'd have to come back the next day, or I could take ten percent off the one they offered.

I live about 25 miles from the store and didn't want to come back, so I reluctantly agreed to the discount, but I wasn't happy. When we got the grill home, my husband tried to read the owner's manual and it was soaking wet, even in its plastic bag. He couldn't turn the pages! This was not the joyous new grill experience I had been looking forward to!

I asked store personnel (who were all very nice, by the way) to make sure they passed on my displeasure but I wasn't satisfied my voice would be heard. To make sure, I went to the Lowe's website and sent a note. I explained that I had already accepted the discount and that I was writing in hope they would educate and manage store policy and employees in the future to tell people upfront if they're trying to sell a display model.

I got an email response within 12 hours stating that the store would be in touch within 24 hours, followed by a call from the local manager. He said they wanted me to have the new grill I purchased and they would deliver it. I explained again that I had already accepted the discount and wasn't trying to gouge them; I just thought the practice was wrong and wanted to be heard. Lowe's wanted to make it right anyway, so they're delivering a new grill today or tomorrow.

I've always said that recovery is better than perfection in business. I still hope they'll be more concientious but I am pleased that they heard me and took my issue seriously.

Happy Friday, everyone...enjoy the weekend!

61 Steps...

...that's how many steps at the back entrance to my office building.

I started a weight loss journey in November 2007. Among my goals is a raised level of fitness, mobility, energy, and agility. Those 61 steps have kicked my butt far too long!

I'm proud to say that, as of Monday, May 12, I've lost 66 pounds and I'm feeling TERRIFIC! I'm still a little winded at the top of those stairs, but nothing like the wheezing wreck I used to be. More importantly, I no longer avoid them. I used to go around the world to not have to climb those stairs and I avoided hills when walking with the same determination. No more...now I look at a hill in my walking route and think, "Cool!" It's actually fun to climb. I feel strong and proud of myself.

Weight Watchers has been the best thing I've ever done for myself and my health. Still, after six months, it's getting harder to stay focused. The program works and I'm not on a diet. I'm learning to live differently. The realization that this is my life now and not some temporary inconvenience that will go away when the weight goes away has been an emotional thing for me. It's like the nurse educator here told me recently in a candid conversation about weight loss and health. She said, "You know now; and once you know, you can't un-know. You'll never be able to just eat with reckless abandon again. You might do it, but the knowledge of what you're doing to your body will be there, and it changes you."

She's right. I can't go back. For me, that's a loss. I miss being on a road trip with my husband and stopping at our favorite buffet. I miss picking up a bucket of chicken and going to the lake. I miss random junk food. And I can hear you out there..."You said it was your life, not a diet. That means you can have those things, just in moderation." I hear you and I concur and I actually do have some of those things from time to time. I think the loss I'm really grieving is the one my nurse friend talked about. I miss the ability to do something bad for me without feeling guilty and conflicted about it. I miss being able to enjoy all the wonderful foods my friends prepare for feast after ritual without having to think about how much fat or fiber or how many calories.

Portion control is not a natural state for me. I'm not someone who naturally selects smaller portions of richer foods because that's all I want. I want more! If one is good, two is better, and what the hell, have three! I'm learning (still, after six months) to listen to my body and respond to signals of being satisfied, but they've been shushed for so long I think they're a little afraid to speak up. And the funny thing is...I have NO idea how that came to be. Well...that's not entirely true. I have some ideas...theories, really...but I've not decided yet if any of them really hold water.

Maybe that's a post for another time. In the meantime, I had a nice lunch and it's time to get back to work. Thanks for listening...more to come.

Much ado about Miley...

Big flap still going on about photos Vanity Fair published of Miley Cyrus. I hope that child makes it out of her teens intact and without cracking under the pressure! Jamie Lee Curtis (yes, the actress) blogged about the photos and about the challenges of a young woman in show business - http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jamie-lee-curtis/topless-on-tv-the-miley-c_b_98990.html. It's a great post, insightful and compassionate, and shows a wisdom that makes me want to call Jamie Lee up and have lunch with her. We could be friends.

Paradise is...

...different things to different people.

As I was hiking in the Muir Woods on Friday, I overheard conversation among a pair of couples walking the trail. I recognized them as Jehovah's Witnesses right away. Having been raised in that arena, I'm fluent in the language (that language is a subject for another conversation some time).

The conversation centered around what they wanted in the New System. For Jehovah's Witnesses, the New System is the world as it will be after Armageddon, after Jehovah removes Satan's influence from the world for a thousand years so the earth and all its inhabitants can return to paradise and perfection. The comments were about what kind of homes they wanted, what kind of amenities. "I want a two or three story house with a window that opens onto a slide so I can just slide down into the lake right out of the bedroom window."

The thing is...we were in the middle of an old growth forest. It was clean, deep, quiet...the trees, some four or five stories tall, were graciously welcoming us into their homes. We'd just been graced with a doe and her fawn crossing our path; a birdsong symphony played in the background, and a gentle creek babbled merrily within earshot of most of the trail. We were already in paradise, and they didn't appear to recognize it.

Have we all become such expatriates that we don't recognize our native tounge? The world was speaking the language of paradise and people were talking about building a three-story house. Or maybe the constant focus on the future, the paradise to come, blinds people to the paradise that is.

It was a bit sad really. Maybe I'm making too much of it; they certainly seemed to be happy and enjoying themselves. But for me, caught up as I was in the rapture of ancient redwoods, blooming oxalis, and the humming energy of that beautiful place, there was no need for a new system. The old system was paradise enough for me.

The California adventure continues..

Today was fun! I started the day in the Muir Woods Redwood Preserve and an easy mile-and-a-half loop on the trails. New photos are on Flickr.

What an amazing place! I know now what "the forest primeval" means. To the eye, it looks pretty much the same as Armstrong Woods that I visited yesterday. That makes sense; two old-growth forests in the same area, same types of plants, etc. Muir Woods is very old, though, and I think probably older than the Armstrong area, though I need to research that. 2008 marks the 100th year of the Muir Woods as a named entity, and the forest itself is ancient.

The first thing I noticed about the woods was the smell. Oh, that wonderful smell! Fresh, clean, earthy... heavenly.

Then there was the doe and fawn that crossed the trail. A guide leading a group of children noticed the pair trying to cross the trail to get to the creek. After finally getting the children and the oblivious adults to be still and somewhat quiet, the doe crossed but the baby was spooked by the crowd and failed to cross. Little deer starts looking for momma deer all around and can't find her. Everyone was oh-no-ing quietly.

Now, I've been told by more than one person that I carry a lot of "momma energy," and I know it's true. I got a little reminder of that today. As I watched the fawn search for momma, I said a little prayer and just asked the Lady to guide the little one to momma. Where does the fawn go? To me...all but into my hand. I think she (gender chosen for convenience; the fawn wasn't THAT close) would have just followed me across the road, until the kids realized the fawn was right under their feet and got excited. Baby ran back into the woods. The doe had started calling, and finally came back across, collected her offspring, and crossed back to the creek. We moved on. It was beautiful.

Next: San Francisco! I drove to Pier 39 and played at Fisherman's Wharf all afternoon. The best thing about SF and northern California in general is that it's drop-dead beautiful. The wharf was fun...lots of shopping, mostly touristy stuff, some jewelry, and food. Oh, and they had an honest-to-goodness arcade - that was fun! I didn't play anything; I just enjoyed walking through the dimly lit palace of fun things. Dinner was The Eagle Cafe. It was good, and the bartender made me the best bloody mary I've ever had! It had freshly grated horseradish in it and the rim was sportig a layer of seasoned salt. Yum!

Finally headed for San Carlos and the hotel I booked on Orbitz. I have to say that I am impressed with Orbitz. I hadn't written down the hotel address so I called Orbitz for help. They found me in the computer system with just my first and last name and were able to give me everything I needed. With their help and the guidance of the trusty GPS system in my rental car, I got where I was going without mishap.

Now it's time to pack up and get some shut-eye. My flight home is 6:00 AM, which means a 3:30 departure from my lovely room. Hope I can sleep on the plane!

G'night.

I'd like to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony...

...but it appears that someone beat me to it.

My beautiful friend Leslie sent a link to a great article, "How to Sing Like a Planet". Beautiful stuff...and the article is written just to my taste, too. Funny, intelligent, and with a sense of wonder. Thanks, Les!

I've got more to say about this (you knew that, didn't you?)...but not now...gotta pack and get out of this hotel room. Stay tuned...

What a great day!

I had some time after the last session I wanted to attend today, so I headed out for some adventure. Chuck at the California Visitor's Center in Santa Rosa gave me the scoop on a scenic drive, along with a handy map with route personally highlighted by Chucks' own hand, so off I went. It was great! You can check out the photos on Flickr. http://www.flickr.com/photos/25941852@N07/show/

First stop...Martinelli Winery for a quick taste and three lovely bottles of wine. This small family winery had some delicious reds and the place was just beautiful.

Next up, Korbel Champagne Winery. Loved the bubbly, but the bottles wouldn't fit in my already-purchased wine shipper, so I bought a bottle of cream sherry. I've never been a sherry drinker, but this stuff is delicious!

Next...Armstrong Woods and a walk among the redwoods...quite possibly the highlight of my trip so far.

Turned onto US 1 and followed the coast for a ways, through Sonoma County State Beach area. I popped off the main road at Goat Rock State Beach and walked down as far as my city girl sandals would let me. And...you guessed it...the pictures are on Flickr at the link above.

My 8 AM oatmeal finally ran out and I had to find food. Ended up at The Tides in Bodega, and it was good. The food wasn't pretty, but it was tasty (lots of garlic) and filling. The restaurant is right on the water so the view was worthy.

Finally, turned for home. Bodega Highway reminds me of home...lots of modest homes and dairy ranches. We don't have ranches in Birchwood...but we have cows...and pastures...and other country stuff. Bodega Highway was like that...felt good.

Whew! Good day...long and adventurous. Tomorrow I check out and head back to San Francisco to see what I can get into there. Stay tuned!

Miracle or zombie?

So here I am at the SNCR Forum in beautiful Santa Rosa, California, surrounded by the best and brightest true believers in the social media universe. I'm inspired to the point of resurrecting this blog from the shallow grave it's called home for over a year now. Is it a miracle or a half-decayed hungry thing that eats brains for breakfast? Time will tell...stay tuned for more updates.

This conference has convinced me that it's time to get back in the pool. David Parmet, Joe Jaffe, Richard Binhammer, Paul Gillin, Geoff Livingtgon, Kami Huyse...names I know and respect are here and I'm soaking it up (hopefully more like a sponge than a sieve). On both a personal and professional front, conversation, true interactive discussion, is where I'm headed.

Did I mention yet how much I love conversation? What a lost art! People talk at each other but so few have any idea how to actually have a true give-and-take conversation anymore. I call them "versations"...there is no "with" component. One person says something. The other says something. Half the time they don't even relate, much less resemble a true response, and heaven forbid one participant actually forgoing their own agenda to ask a question or encourage the other. Instead of verbal ping pong, we play catch, holding onto our turn until we have to take a breath, at which point the person waiting her turn snatches the ball out of our hands and takes control.

Geoff Livingston and Kami Huyse talked today about steps to entering the social media ring that I think can become rules for conversation in any arena - Listen, participate, contribute, evaluate. If we applied these rules every time we talk with another person, our versations would become conversations again and we'd find ourselves actually hearing, stimulating, challenging each other.

Oh, but wait...we can't do that because that might lead to discussions about things that really matter, minefields in the politically correct, you will respect my diversi-ty world. But that's a topic for another post, another time. Right now, I'm going to go back to learning at the feet of the masters.

Don't go away...we'll be right back.

Out of date, but not gone...

Yes, I know...I've been away far too long. If you're a regular visitor to this blog...well, you're probably not anymore because it's been months since I last posted anything here. Sorry 'bout that.

I'm back and I have a lot to say...stay tuned...

And another thing...

Ok, so I'm still riled up about the whole breast thing. And I think it's a fully justified, truly righteous indignation I'm working up.

You see, the part that has me the most upset is that it's women - W-O-M-E-N - who tend to make the most fuss about things like seeing breasts exposed. Women! It's our breasts we're bitching about!

You might think I'm making an unreasonably big fuss over this issue. In fact, it's an unreasonably big issue. Here's why (bear with me; it's a long explanation):

Men are biologically driven to seek sex. As soon as a young man hits puberty, it's pretty much up-periscope and he's dragged around by the end of his heat-seeking missile for a few years (more than a few). Now, guys, don't get mad. I'm not implying that you don't excercise control and take the reins back...but I've never talked to a man yet who didn't admit that he nicknamed his privates because he wasn't comfortable having a total stranger in charge of his life.

Women, on the other hand, are wired a bit differently. We love sex, but our biological drive is seated in another cradle. We have greater control over our physical desires but we're positively addicted to acceptance, love, and being the object of exclusive desire.

Add to this little mix the fact that, as my former mother-in-law (now resting, presumably in peace) used to say - "Yeah, little boy, you've got one of those, but I've got one of these, and with this I can get all of those I want!" Is it not true? My husband puts it quite succinctly. He asks simply, "If you're a woman, answer this question with total honesty: Could you, if you chose to do so, get laid tonight? Not necessarily with the person or under the circumstances you might desire, but could you have sexual intercourse with a willing partner tonight?" The answer is, in almost every single case, yes. And that translates to one thing: power.

Sexuality is powerful. Women's sexuality is extremely powerful. The biological imperative placed on men to spread the seed far and wide makes them vulnerable to this power. So how, without killing off your source for the very thing that renders you so vulnerable in the first place, do you right the power imbalance? You enlist the aid of an equal or more powerful ali.

Enter the church. What better way to reduce the power of women's sexuality than to declare it disgusting, filthy, defiling, sinful in its very nature and existence. "The hands that have touched a woman are not fit to handle the body of Christ." Filthy daughters of filthy Eve. Lusty succubi used by the devil to ensnare innocent men in a pit of carnal degradation. So filthy are women that some priests are required to be celebate in order to handle the Host. And it's obviously not Christianity alone that feels the need to protect against the evils of feminine sexuality. Look at Islam. And don't even get me started on cultures that perform ritual mutilation on women, excising the clitoris and part of the labia as a "right of passage."

And the worst part of all this? Women themselves have bought into it. We may not run around calling ourselves evil, filthy, or inherently unclean, but let one of us show a breast in public and Katie, bar the door, it's on! Let one of our sisters show a little too much leg or a bit more clevage than we think appropriate and we're slinging "slut" and "tramp" like poison darts. A flirtatious woman gets a little male attention while other women are quietly plotting her demise. Even the most non-sexual use of our bodies - pregnancy, childbirth, nursing - is subject to the madness. Case in point: The August 2006 issue of Baby Talk magazine featured a nursing baby on the cover. There was such an uproar about the cover that the magazine polled readers and at least 25% responded that they are upset or offended by the photo. Who reads the magazine? Women! Women with babies! Women with BREASTS! Read the article.

It's all about power, folks. And the sad part is that it really doesn't have to be this way. But you can bet that it will stay as long as the prisoners keep polishing the bars and making sure the doors shut tight. If women don't reclaim and own their own sexual power and learn to use it ethically and for the good of all, we'll always be evil daughters of evil Eve. If we're going to think anything is disgusting, it should be that. I know I'm ashamed.

Beasts! Beasts! Beware the beasts!

I read recently where some people were highly offended by other people exposing their beasts in public. Well, I should say so! I don’t want to see anyone’s beasts! And what about the children? What were these people thinking? Beasts are to be kept private, covered, hidden away. They could hurt someone!

Oh…wait…by golly, I read that wrong. It was breasts, not beasts. Huh…funny what a difference that "r" makes.

Only… well… it seems that it doesn’t make any difference at all. People are just as offended by breasts as they are by beasts. Offended? By breasts? Life-giving, sweater-filling, put-your-head-on-my-pillows breasts actually offend people? Apparently so. Some folks seem to equate beasts – snarly, scary things with fangs and bad attitudes – with breasts – soft, jiggly things with little pink nipples and no attitudes at all other than perky, and even that goes away pretty darned quickly.

Further confusing matters, some breasts seem to be more offensive than others. A Hollywood breast, for example, draped in something sheer or shiny that barely covers only the cute little nipple, is not likely to cause any but the nicest kind of stir. People will snap photos of it for magazines, newspapers, and websites, and afford it honors like "Best Dressed." But a Chattanooga breast, clothed in a cotton camp shirt from J. C. Penney, a nursing bra, and the lips of a cherub-cheeked infant – that breast can cause a ruckus. Expressions of disgust and even outrage rise up all around whenever one of those puppies raises its nose (even though the nose is, technically, covered by the baby).

I guess I just don’t get it. I was ok when I thought it was beasts causing all the commotion. But breasts? Breasts that are feeding babies? Nourishing, pure-and-perfect mother’s milk dispensing, comfort-giving, smells like mama…what in the name of all that is human can possibly be offensive about that? Have we become so sexually driven that we can’t see past our own neurotic obsession with the prelude, losing sight of the main attraction? All that sexual activity we associate with breasts leads right up to babies, and babies have to be fed. That makes breasts pretty much full-circle, self-contained, the right tool for the right job perfect, if you ask me… and nothing to be ashamed of.

Hmmph. I think some of these folks’ beasts are showing…and I AM offended.

The perfect quote...

...to follow up my last post:

"The universe loves gratitude. You cant be grateful and unhappy at the same time" - Louise Hay

Yep...what she said.

The Chicken or the Egg?

"I am not grateful because I am rich. I am rich because I am grateful." - Me

There are many situations in this world where the question of, "Which came first?" might be difficult to answer. The pairing of gratitude and abundance is not one of them. I am convinced beyond all doubt that gratitude definitely comes first. Gratitude creates abundance.

It's the stuff of parables, fables, and fairy tales. The rich man has everything yet, without gratitude, his spirit remains poor. The poor man has little but his grateful heart soars and his life is full and rich in ways the ungrateful never know.

Gratitude begins with awareness - awareness of the good things in our lives, large and small, and a conscious decision to express our gratitude for all that we have. Most of us aren't habitually grateful. The good news is that we can learn. And when we do, we open doors to abundance and fullness that we didn't know existed. A grateful heart creates an attitude of abundance, and that inner reality manifests as outward reality. We don't just feel richer. We truly draw more and more good things into our lives. We grow richer with every thank you.

Creating any new habit takes time, but it's an investment that pays unlimited returns. Make the investment. Try this for a year and see what happens: Start a journal - I've heard it called a "gratitude journal" but I like to call it, "My Overflowing Book of Good Things." Every night before you go to sleep, write down five things you are grateful for. What? You can't name five things you're grateful for? Yes, you can - even if one of them is, "I'm glad I only have to come up with five." or, "I'm glad I'm ending this crazy day instead of starting it!" Every morning, start a new page with the date and the numbers one through five down the side, ready to be filled in at the end of the day. As you go through your day, make mental notes or jot down things for which you are grateful, no matter how small. Be faithful. Do it every morning and every night.

Here's what I predict will happen: You will become more and more aware of things that enrich your life right now. You'll spend less time thinking about what you don't have and more time enjoying what you do. You'll grow happier, calmer, a little bit less invested in the rat race. Over time, your awareness will expand to be grateful for things you never even thought of. Along the way, you'll experience a sweeter, juicier, tastier life. At some point it will occur to you that a lot of good things have been happening to you lately, and that your life is really good. One day, you'll be on your way to work or running errands. You'll be stopped at a traffic light and glance around at other vehicles and their drivers. You'll see their faces - scowling, angry, half-awake - and you'll notice that, in contrast, you're wearing a slight smile, naturally and for no apparent reason. And you'll think, "I am so rich."

And you'll be right.

Good Teacher, Bad Teacher

How do you define “teacher?” What makes a good teacher good or a bad teacher bad?

I’ve had experiences recently that have me thinking a lot about teachers. More accurately, I’m thinking about lessons learned. And it seems that some of the most valuable, the most important lessons have come from the worst teachers.

Possibly the most valuable lesson of all is this: every encounter is a learning experience; everyone is my teacher. The lessons may come directly in a deliberate transfer of knowledge. They may come “sideways” from observation and reflection. Or they may come as a result of disappointment, betrayal, even abuse, often from the very person I looked to as a teacher. Those lessons are hard and painful, but they are the ones that protect me, shape me, and sometimes, set me free.

The trick is to realize the real lesson. A teacher who fails to meet stated objectives still teaches me. Maybe I learn how to choose better teachers. Or maybe I learn to take more responsibility for my own learning. The teacher who hurts me through betrayal or abuse, or whose personal power struggles overshadow his or her commitment to students has much to teach me. I learn to recognize the situation for what it is. I learn that I am strong enough to step back, extricate myself, and regroup. And, when the initial shock, anger, or hurt subsides, I learn accountability tempered with compassion.

Teachers are students, too. The loss of a student, maybe even a friend, can be a hard lesson to accept. Seeing them suffer the natural consequences of their actions is a lesson in accountability. And I learn compassion when I realize that I, too, will experience failure, hurting or betraying others with my actions, even if unintentionally.

There are many good teachers in my life and I’m grateful for them. But even bad teachers teach good lessons, and I’m grateful for them, too. In a sense, every teacher is a good teacher if I can recognize the real lesson.

Boiling point

We boil at different degrees. -Ralph Waldo Emerson, writer and philosopher, (1803-1882)

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Emerson? This statement sums up much of what I believe makes up the difference in individuals. So many times I've heard people become frustrated with their friends, partners, spouses, children, coworkers...it baffles them when someone doesn't take an action they believe should be taken, or reacts too quickly for their taste...someone who changes more slowly or more quickly than they. Assuming basic psychological and emotional stability, we all simply move at different rates, react to different stumuli...we reach boiling at our own set point.

In this context, I'm referring to "boiling" as the point at which we affect change. When water boils, it changes to steam. When we boil, we make changes in our lives. Like water, the molecules will probably have been in motion for a long time before the first bubbles break the surface. Just because we don't see the changes, we can't assume the other person isn't simmering quietly inside, temperature rising slowly toward their own set point. When they get there, the bubbles float to the surface, break, and the steam rises.

People sometimes forestall the boiling. They resist the change to the point that they "turn down the heat." The heat is the stimulus to change, usually in the form of pain or discomfort with the present status. A statement I've heard used (and used myself) is that people only change when the pain of change is outweighed by the pain of staying the same. I think that's true. To avoid the discomfort of change, the pain of breaking that surface tension and morphing into another form of ourselves, we ignore the heat. Fortunately, the heat remains and, eventually, forces us to change. Maybe not in this lifetime...but eventually.

Our challenge, then, is to pay attention to our own heat sources and to let those we love pay attention to theirs. It's hard, sometimes, especially when the relationships are very close. Many a marriage has fallen apart because one partner is still simmering while the other is boiling away! Ahh, but perhaps that's part of the change in progress. Maybe the pain of that failed relationship is what it takes to get the other partner from a slow simmer to a rolling boil. Maybe not. One thing is certain - life is change. We all boil at different degrees but we still boil. Steam happens. So does condensation. And then we boil again.

A riddle...

Riddle: What do you say when the Universe hits you in the head with a "clue by four"?

Answer: Ouch. Thank you. May I have another?

Synchronicity. Timing. Things happening in such a way that there can be no doubt that something is coordinating the events. Affirmation that evolution happens in the micro as well as the macro. We evolve in tiny increments all the time.

My friend Lynnette is busy preparing an Ostara ritual for our little group. She sent some questions to get us thinking and help us prepare for the celebration. She talked about balance, naturally enough, and drew a distinction between static balance - "...stand with outstretched hands holding the same amount of 'weight' on each..." and "... balance experienced as a flow of seasons, cycles...".

Her words evoked an image of a curved line, a wave that curves deeply to one side, then gradually swings toward the other, crossing the center point before curving wide to the opposite side, like a continuous S-curve.

My life is like that, and it's been brought home to me lately so very clearly. I've been living in a wide swing toward ideals that I embrace happily and that, at their core, serve me well. But the curve can't stay that far out, that far from center, without throwing the wave out of balance. Like that line, there are aspects of my life that need to curve back toward center.

Here is an example, one that currently occupies a lot of my thoughts: I am a very accepting person. Acceptance is a part of my personality, but I've also worked hard to cultivate it in my life. I've conciously nurtured the part of me that takes people as they come and sees good in just about everyone. The problem is that I've also developed the habit of ignoring red flags, warnings and danger signs. It's not that I don't see them. If I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that I do, indeed, see the red flags waving. I just ignore them.

Why? Because I think I might be wrong. Or because, for some reason, I have come to believe that saying, "I don't like her" is just...wrong. It sounds so arrogant, so self-centered. What do you mean, you don't like her? What makes you so special that the universe should care whether someone pleases you or not? Why are your likes and dislikes more important than the other person's right and responsibility to be who they are? That's a person, not a flavor or a color. Focus on the other person instead of yourself for a change. People act on what they believe. Look at the reasons behind the actions instead of weighing everything in the light of whether it pleases you or not.

So I allowed myself to develop the habit of ignoring things because I was convinced somehow that I had enough understanding of human nature to see beyond the behavior to its cause. Once I knew the cause, I could ... I could...what? Change the behavior? Disregard it because I knew why they did it? That's more likely, I think. I just overlooked a lot of things because I thought I knew why they were doing them. It didn't make them any less annoying, dangerous, or unhealthy, but I could just be the bigger, more superior person and rise above it all.

Hogwash! I've been ignoring red flags and it has cost me. More important, my ignoring my own instincts contributed to friends being hurt. No...I'm not trying to take resonsibility for everything in the world...but facing the fact that, had I listened to certain instincts, raised a question when I observed things that weren't quite right, or just spoke up and said, "Hey, I know BS when I see it and that was some of the S-iest B I've seen in a long time!" is just facing the truth. I've been so focused on not being self-centered that I forgot to use common sense and simple self-preservation, practicing a special brand of self-centered, cleverly disguised as acceptance and other-centric living.

Though the reasons were very different at the time, I have been ignoring warnings and flags since I was young. I got married twice under a fluttering, flapping, sea of garrison-sized crimson beauties. I knew it wasn't right but I chose to ignore them. Why? That's a whole 'nother subject for a whole 'nother time. Regardless of the reasons, the behavior was the same. Was the pattern being set even then? Maybe.

So...lessons learned...and being learned...again...still. I feel the curve turning and flowing more toward center, away from the wide arc too far out to the side. Of course, the curve continues, and I'm sure I'll swing wide again on some other issue...or the same one, though I truly hope not.

I am still an accepting person, and I don't want that to change. I like that part of me and I'm glad I've cultivated that trait. What I do want is to accept my own right and responsibility to listen to the warnings.

It doesn't do much good to be a very intuitive person if you ignore your own intuition, does it?

Remedial Learning - Life for Dummies - The Complete Idiot's Guide to Stuff We Should Know

I've often said out loud to anyone who could be coerced into listening that the universe is constantly in teaching mode...that we are all learning lessons all the time...and that some of us (ask me how I know this) end up repeating the same lessons over and over until we get it.

Lately, my school-of-life schedule has undergone an overhaul and suddenly, I'm in remedial class with lessons coming fast and furious! I cannot remember a time when there were more "aha" moments in my life. Every day something else happens and another light bulb comes on, another little voice inside saying, "You knew that! You should have known that! Why didn't you know that?"

On the one hand, I'm bowled over by the intensity of it all. On the other hand, I'm deeply grateful. Not only are the lessons coming, but I'm able to recognize at least some of them. Those are the ones that, hopefully, I'll "get" this time and not be repeating the course again and again. No guarantees, of course...but I'm trying.

So what am I learning?

Trust your own intuition. If something bothers you, listen to it. Speak up about it. If you aren't bothered but people you love and trust are, encourage them to speak up... and LISTEN to them. You and/or they may not be right (we all have our own filters, after all), but you may be dead on target and you could be spared a lot of grief by paying attention.

Practice what you preach. When you believe that sharing failings, disappointments, and hurts is just as important as sharing joys and accomplishments, act on that belief. Don't keep your disappointments and injuries from people you love, trust, and respect, even if you believe that you're doing it for good reason. A prime example: I learned from a deeply loved and cherished friend today that she'd been carrying around pain and heartache over a situation that I, too, had experienced. Had either of us spoken up about it, we could have, as she so beautifully put it, helped each other to heal. Instead, and for the very best of reasons, we both kept our hurts to ourselves. In doing so, we isolated ourselves in that lonely place where you come to believe it is you and you alone who bears that burden. While I was trying to hold myself to a standard I had set, I left a friend to suffer alone, and I suffered alone, too. I have to learn to trust those I love to be strong enough to know what happens to me and how I react to it, without having my reaction shape their own.

Trust. Cherish it. Nurture it. Hold it dear and protect it. Honor it as the center of each relationship. Every relationship is a set of mutual promises, some stated, others implied. We make plans and live our lives on the basis of those promises. Don't make promises you aren't willing to do everything in your power to keep. If you don't understand the implied promises in a relationship, put on your grown up shoes and ask.

Accountability. I've posted a lot about accountability already. A point that keeps being driven home to me is that we are accountable for every action, and no action is purely good or purely bad. Everything we do puts things in motion, causes ripples in the pond, creates vibrations on the web of life that connects us all. Even decisions that are ultimately right and good create those vibrations, and what is good and right for us may be disappointing to someone else. Causing pain to someone by our actions, even when those actions are exactly what we have to do to meet our own honest responsibilities, is never easy for those who love broadly and generously. I have a beautiful little book called, "The Invitation," written by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. She says, "It doesn't interest me if the story you are telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself, if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul; if you can be faithless and therefore trustworthy." Pretty words. Hard questions. Important lesson.

I'm sure there are more lessons, probably some that are just zooming over my head completely unseen. I can almost hear the, "tsk, tsk, tsk...she'll be back next semester..." in the ethers. I suppose I should be grateful for that, too. If life were strictly a pass/fail, one-shot-and-you're-out proposition, I'd have been booted a long time ago. Instead, we're given opportunity upon opportunity to learn, to grow, to get it.

I'm working on it.

Accountability and Compassion

Events of late have me thinking a lot about accountability and compassion.

We are all accountable for our actions. Nobody has to hold us accountable. We just are. The universe is made that way. When we make decisions and take actions, we put the universe into motion. You throw your rock, you make your splash...and then the ripples come. The old phrase, "It's time to pay the piper." comes to mind.

I'm not talking just about punishment, though there are times when that is one consequence of our actions. The ripples that are less direct are often more painful because they're so far-reaching. A punishment, like a jail sentence, for example, is finite. You do something, you get caught, you get convicted, you serve a sentence for X amount of time, and you're done. True accountability, on the other hand, has no time limit. It is the result of the universe set in motion by our actions. Sometimes the pain is direct. Sometimes it comes from watching others suffering because of something we did. It can be harsh and brutal.

Compassion is the act of recognizing that a fellow traveler took a turn that caused them pain. It's acknowledging that we, too, have taken and will take many such turns, and will suffer our share of pain. It's knowing that, inevitable as the consequential suffering is, it's the way most of us learn the most important lessons in any lifetime. It's actively hoping that the lessons are learned and not repeated.

We all pay the proverbial piper, all the time. And yet, when someone does something we clearly find unacceptable, makes a mistake we haven't made personally, and we see them suffering because of it, it's easy to feel superior. If we or someone we love were injured by their actions, we may even feel a little thrill at their discomfort. But is that good for us? I don't think so. It may not be possible to feel purely compassionate, but I believe we should actively cultivate compassion because it's spiritually healthy and emotionally healing. When I focus on compassion, it helps to keep anger, hurt, and betrayal from consuming me.

The definitive example of compassion, for me, is in the movie, "Dogma." [Heartsong's note: My daughter recently told me I have the actors/characters reversed in the following recap. I remember the story clearly; it's the faces that are fuzzy. If you are bothered by such (alleged) inaccuracies, be warned.] Matt Damon's character is an angel who has been banned from heaven for eternity. He and his fellow heavenly expatriate (played by Ben Afleck) have come up with a scheme to get back into heaven. It doesn't work and both characters go a little nuts when they realize they'll probably never get another chance to go home. Loki (Matt Damon) is now facing God (Alanis Morrisette). He has violated all the rules and now God's going to destroy him. He's is heartbroken and tearfully explains that all he wanted was to go home. In the silent interchange between Loki and God at that moment, we're shown the very heart of compassion. God looks at him with eyes that say, "I wish it could be some other way." Loki says simply, "Thank you." God nods...and destroys him. Loki was accountable for his actions. There was no escaping that. Yet the same God that understood there could be no escape from the accountability still felt the pain and acknowledged it.

We don't have to punish. The universe will do that. We have but to be accountable for our own actions, try to do what's right, and be compassionate toward those who are paying their piper. May they grow in wisdom as we, hopefully, grow from our own accountability.

Changing the world...

My husband found this quote this morning and shared it with me. "This is you...", he said...

The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt. - Frederick Buechner

I was honored, first of all, that he pays close enough attention to my ramblings to recognize my perspective in the quote, and I was amazed at how accurately it reflected my own approach to affecting change in the world.

I have experienced a bit of inner conflict in the past about whether or not I was shirking responsibility because I do not choose to be politically active. I do vote, and I do pay attention to what's going on...but I don't practice the "political activism" the some do. To this point, I've never stood on the roadside with signs or volunteered for a candidate. My approach has always been that I would affect change one person at a time through my interaction and my life.

The conflict, I suppose, comes from the fact that I admire the bold, visible steps taken by those who call themselves activists. It takes time, energy, and courage to do what they do and there is no doubt that they are instrumental in raising awareness and mobilizing others to action. Often I would wonder if I was guilty of ignoring my own responsibility in such things. You won't find anyone more devoted to the cause of peace than I. You won't meet anyone who believes more strongly in fair and equal treatment for all. You'll never meet anyone who wishes more for the end of racial injustice and conflict. If I believe so strongly in the causes, why aren't I out there with the other activists?

The answers came when I turned inward and looked to the source of the conflict - me. I was the one asking the questions, after all. And I realized that I was concerned mostly that others would think that I didn't care because they didn't see me participating in political activity. And if they thought I didn't care about those things, they would never realize how important I believe the message to be and how vital it is to work toward peace and the end of injustice.

So, I asked myself, is that true? Is it reasonable to think that those who know you and those who observe you in the world won't know how you feel? That, of course, led me to examine my life - a process that is always beneficial and rarely comfortable. Would my daily habits, my interaction with the world around me, hold up against what I profess to believe?

When you shine a light through even the heaviest of fabrics, it's easy to see the holes. I have holes. Lots of them. Fewer now, I believe, than when I started the inspection, but there are still enough to let me know that I have work to do, enough to keep me busy for many lifetimes.

But here's the thing: All in all, I'm satisfied that my life is my political activism. I try, imperfectly though it most certainly is, to live the ideals that I hold dear. Every touch of another life, however brief, is an opportunity to demonstrate the behaviors and beliefs that I would have spread throughout the world. Each contact is an opportunity to treat others with respect, to look for the unique good in each person, to assume innocence first and realize that people act according to what they believe, even when they don't recognize the belief. Every meeting, chance or planned, is an opportunity to consciously decide to open my door, open my heart, and open my mind to a fellow traveler. Every encounter with people who are different from me...culturally, racially, sexually, spiritually...is an opportunity to practice what I would preach, to put aside prejudices (and we all have them, after all) , and to know the individual human being standing in front of me.

This is political activism, one person at a time. I am the sign I carry on the street corner. I am the pamphlet I distribute. It is through my actions and my example that I have the opportunity to touch another life, a life that will touch countless others. Who knows where the trembling may stop?

And soon, a parting...

I learned tonight that my Aunt Louise, my father's oldest sibling and a woman I love very dearly, had a massive stroke and isn't expected to survive. She will turn 89 if she lives to her birthday, just a few weeks away, but I doubt that she will make it that far.

Aunt Louise and I didn't get to spend much time together; she's lived for as long as I can remember in Gig Harbor, Washington, near Seattle. Yet that tiny little woman - all 5 feet or so of her - is very close to my heart. She is wonderfully warm, smart, funny, open-minded, loving, and lives every moment of her life fully. Whenever I talk with her, she says, "I am so grateful for my life. I have a wonderful family that take care of me and would do anything for me. I have many, many friends who range in age from 2 months to 90 years, and I love them all. I have had a good marriage to a man I love dearly. I am blessed." She loved my father very much, and he loved her. They were closer than any of the other children in that big family. My dad loved Uncle Jim, too. Uncle Jim died several years ago, and my father cried like a baby when heard the news.

My eyes look to the west tonight. The Old Ones will soon welcome one of their own. Rest well, Aunt Louise. Well done.

Things I am grateful for right this minute...

1. My class this week. I taught a presentation skills class four mornings this week to a group of eight guys at work. It was a wonderful experience! They were all sincere, honest, and willing to hold themselves and each other accountable and do the uncomfortable and difficult work of putting themselves on the line in front of their peers. I was on top of my game this week, too, and felt really good about the class. What a joy it is to have a job I'm good at and to know that others benefit from what I do.
2. My daughter's blog posts this week. Amy (or Amybeth as she is known to many) is an excellent writer so her posts are enjoyable to read, but it's her insights that amaze me. We don't always see eye-to-eye (as she likes to say, "If it's not one thing, it's your mother!), but she provides a whole different perspective that is so valuable. Her honesty is delightful and I love her more than breath.
3. My husband. Always. The man I was destined to walk through whatever we have left in this life with. He is a big, strong, powerful man who chooses to walk gently on the earth. He chooses to love, actively and visibly. And he chooses to love me. I am blessed beyond words.
4. Cottage cheese and mandarin oranges. A simple, mundane pleasure that just makes my day.
5. My boss, Teresa. She has a lot of good qualities, but one of her best is that she is faithful to say thank you for the work we do, to praise when it's deserved, and to pass on the praise of others. It makes work a much better place to be.
6. This computer and the ability to use it. I can reach out and touch friends and strangers. I can reach out and grab knowledge. I can be entertained. I can be productive. I can be silly. This is all good. Really, really good.
7. Plans to get away with my husband this weekend. If you want to know why, see #3 above.
8. The book "Simple Abundance" by Sarah Ban Breathnacht. It's an absolute delight and a beautiful map for the year long journey into your own authentic heart.
9. Sleep. I've been making a real effort to go to bed earlier these days, targeting 10:30 as my bedtime. I find that I feel better in the mornings, and that I start looking forward to bedtime around 9:45.
10. Music. I am surrounded by it and it enriches my life in so many ways.

For all this and more, I give thanks right now. Life is good.

I love questions...

...because they give me a starting point for the next post. Thanks, Tonja.

After my last long, rambling post, Tonja posted some interesting questions. She asked me if I would feel the same way about my kids and sex if my children were all boys instead of girls. Fair question. I read the question earlier tonight and I had an immediate answer. Still, I waited for a while before I answered to see if a little time would change my perspective. It hasn't.

I would raise three boys with the same if not more fervent desire that they refrain from being sexually active until they were truly ready for the responsibility that goes with it. I would do my dead-level best to not let them think of women as "conquests" so cheering them on in such conquests would be out of the question. I would want my sons to grow up with a healthy sexuality, too, and to realize that waiting until they were prepared for the consequences wouldn't deny them their chance to have it and might save them some grief along the way.

As for what I was like at 14, 16, 18... it's almost a moot point. I was raised in such a strict atmosphere and it was a different time. Teenage sex was still something only a few bad girls did (or at least that's what most of us thought) and it always seemed to end badly. I was raised to believe that not only did the big he-god forbid it, he was watching and you would be found out, no matter how you tried to hide it. I didn't even consider having sex as a teenager and was 20 before I got around to changing that. I kissed, made out a little... but no intercourse, no alternate activities.

When I was 20 and I had my first experience, I honestly felt like I no longer had the right to say no. I mean, after all, my moral integrity had been compromised. If I did it with one, what right did I have to say no to anyone else? It wasn't quite that stark, but it was close. The next year or so I had more sex than a lot of women have in a lifetime. And you know what? I was in free fall. I had no clue what I was doing or why I was doing it, save that I enjoyed it...most of the time. It amazes me that I didn't end up pregnant or dead, because I took chances no one should take. Why? Because I didn't have anything to anchor to. I had a religion I didn't believe, parents that just said no and got angry that I even thought of sex, much less considered actually doing it, no concept of who I was or how to look inward and find it.

It's interesting, too, looking back on that time. I looked at having sex as almost a healing thing. Guys seemed to need it so badly, and I had it...why shouldn't I share it? I enjoyed it, they enjoyed it...no harm, no foul, right? Well, the world didn't always see it that way, and it devestated me when someone didn't respect me, especially someone I had been intimate with. Had I had a stronger sense of myself and a better perspective on the world around me, that would have been different. With those tools in place I would have made better choices about who I shared myself with, picking those who would respect the exchange for what it was, and would have been strong enough to overcome it if they didn't.

Does society prepare us for other milestone events like driving, voting, drinking, moving off to college? No...and yes...and it's different. As important and risky as those things are, I don't think any of them carry the emotional weight of sex. And while some of them carry the risk of ending life if mishandled, none of them can create life. That's a huge difference for me.

Of course, that begs the question about same-sex relationships. The danger of pregnancy is gone in those cases, but the emotional vulnerability is still there. And while pregnancy is certainly one of the biggest of the consequences one needs to be prepared for when deciding to have sex, it's not the only one.

No matter how I look at it, I come back to the same answer every time. Waiting is better. If you're going to do something that may create emotional turmoil, wait until you have a good emotional foundation under you. If you're going to do something that carries the risk of disease, make sure you're old enough and educated enough to understand the risks and take the proper precautions. If you're going to do something that might bring a new life into the world, make sure you're prepared to care for that new little person - emotionally, physically, and financially.

You don't get to drive when you're 12, even if your feet can reach the pedals.

The fuzzy lines all start in the maternity ward...

Pagan ethics are a much talked about subject. Non-pagans often make the mistake of thinking we don't have ethics because we don't have a checklist of pre-made, yes/no decisions. There is no equivalent of the 10 commandments for pagans. Pagans, on the other hand, take their ethics quite seriously and can expound at great length on how much more difficult it is to live an "ethical" life rather than a "moral" life. I have to agree, for the most part; choosing the best course of action based on the situation and the consequences rather than simply checking the list of rules and saying, "Nope. Says right here, "Thou shalt not..." is trickier and less comfortable most of the time. It suits me well, though, and even when I'm faced with a right versus right dilemma, I'm happier making my choices based on reasoning and compassion than not.

Some things are pretty easy. Some aren't. I eat meat. Does that mean I'm violating the "harm none" rule? I try to take pretty good care of myself but I'm grossly overweight and still eat cheeseburgers. Is that another transgression? What about politics? Am I ignoring a responsibility by not getting involved politically, or am I (as I like to think) working to affect change on a one-to-one level?

And then there's sex...which brings me to the title of this post. I have no real ethical dilemmas about sex for myself. As an adult, I view sex as a natural part of life and a really good thing. My husband and I share similar beliefs that whatever one, two, or more people choose to do sexually that causes no harm, is consensual, and is done with respect is really fine and dandy. We've both explored polyamory and find it a lovely ideal but one that falls short in reality, so we have established our own, slightly broader than usual, boundaries of monogamy. We're happy. And we're happy for everyone else who finds their way to sexual bliss, by whatever path they get there, as long as it meets the criteria of non-harmful, consensual, and respectful. Oh, and I suppose I should add sane, too...though one person's sexual sanity is another person's lunacy. A bit difficult to define, that one. :)

Where the line gets blurry is when it comes to our kids. As open as I am sexually, I tend to be quite provincial about the kids. As a pagan parent, I don't get the luxury of saying, "Chapter 1, Verse 12... No sex!" There isn't any such chapter. So we're left to face guiding our children into sexual maturity (and protecting them until they reach that maturity) with little more to go on than love and gut instinct.

On the one hand, I state loudly and proudly that I want my girls (both the one I gave birth to and the two I now hold so dear to my heart) to grow up happily and healthily sexual. I want them to revel in their bodies and know all the joys there are to know. At the same time, I'm crazy when I think of the two younger ones having sex now.

"But wait," says my brain... "think about what you're saying! Their bodies - all of our bodies - are biologically programmed to hit hypersex mode by the time they're about 13. If we are a Nature-based religion and Nature is giving the big green light to sex at 13, why am I trying to so hard to stave it off until at least 18? "

"Ah, but..." says the same brain (you see why I'm confused), "Their bodies may be ready, but our society and culture have done nothing whatsoever to prepare them for the possible consequences of being sexually active."

"What consequences?" I ask.

"Babies, for one," I answer, "and emotional involvment beyond their matutity level, and disease, and heartbreak..."

"Now wait right there..." I say to myself, "that heartbreak argument isn't going to hold water. Everyone gets their hearts broken and not having sex won't prevent that."

"You're right," I aquiesce. I know when I'm being silly. "But the rest of the dangers are real. "

"Yeah...they are. And I don't know what to do about it, either."

And so goes the discussion...always in my brain, always me and me having the debate.

Then there's the occasional ice water bath that happens that really shakes things up. We attend science fiction conventions and our younger daughters are surrounded by lots of men and women who find them attractive and who, in some cases, would be happy to help them learn the intricacies of sex. I'm not talking about pedophiles...I'm talking about people who see our girls as the young women they are and don't agree with me that sex should wait until one is emotionally, psychologically, and culturally (financially) able to be responsible for the possible consequences. When faced with that, the "Nature says..." side of my brain was drowned out completely by the other part screaming, "Hell, no!"

Why? I had to think about that one a lot. Besides the responsibility for consequences thing, I finally decided it was because there just isn't enough time in 15, 16, or 17 years (or 18 or 20 for some of us) to get a firm enough footing on who we are to not be rocked off-balance by the power of a sexual relationship. And I decided that any adult in or near his or her third decade should realize that and, if they realized it and still attempted to engage my daughters in such a relationship, they should be ashamed. Sex isn't truly consensual unless all parties involved are fully empowered and that takes time. I hope the people involved got the message.

The law says that 18 is a magic number and that everyone, no matter how well or how ill prepared they are, is able to make adult decisions about sex by age 18. That means, of course, that parents can't keep their children in a barrel for 18 years and then expect to turn them out into the world to make good decisions. Nope. Can't do that. They have to be given that responsibility gradually and grow into it.

How do you do that? I've looked in all the pagan books and it's not there. I looked in the Bible and it's not there, either. I've asked others and they don't know. Conclusion? It's a play-it-by-ear kind of thing. You have to figure out how to protect them without smothering and without depriving them of the sense of self and knowledge of their own sexual power that they will need when they enter into adult sexual relationships. A woman needs to know she is attractive without being allowed to become an intolerable tease. A man needs to know that women are wonderful but he can live without them. Men need to respect women in all their facets, and women respect men just as fully. Men and women need to know that same-sex relationships are still relationships and fraught with all the emotional dangers of any het relationship. Everyone needs to know that the best relationships happen when everyone involved is whole and comfortable alone, so that joining together adds to their lives rather than attempting to fill gaps it can't fill. That applies to casual sex as well as long-term relationships. And we need, whenever possible, strong spiritual communities wherein adults display the characteristics they are trying to grow in their children, where trust is held sacred and not betrayed.

So... I'm pretty comfortable with where I fall on this one. It's maybe not the same path other pagan parents will choose. I don't know. But it's the place I've come to. And I'm not dumb enough to think that just because I have arrived at this place that my kids will follow. I pray that the Old Ones will guide my actions for the good of those I love, and theirs, as well. Lord...Lady...show us the way.