Somewhere in the Body-Life

Moving On

2008-02-28T15:29:00.001-08:00

So this will be my last post here. I feel that I may lose readers, but that is okay. I will gain others, plus those who are friends and want to support me and share in the conversations at hand, will follow no matter how many kinks in the road. Although I am loathe to leave my nice pretty 6-months of archives behind...the case however, becomes: if you want to continue reading about my various (mis) adventures, insights, stories, and life in general, you will have to adjust your channels. You will from here on find me at Somatique, and I'll tell you why... It's very simple. I feel that I have, here been stumbling for a place to find a firm footing. A means to finding my way out and not just around the corner in yet another hall of mirrors to falsely recognize myself in. Oh, there I Am! No, no. Hmmm. Ah! There I am, that for sure is me! I felt like I needed a fresh start. So Invitations all around. I look forward to seeing you on the other side of the looking glass.

The Last Bite

2008-02-25T09:38:00.000-08:00

I had reservations about posting this because most of the niche I have carved out here is associated with Raw Food nutrition. And I was frightened (big surprise) about how I would appear if I actually put this out there… but I am always afraid of actually saying what it is that I am experiencing for fear of judgment, and this needs to stop, so my apologies if this dismantles anyone’s idea about me but the following is pure and sincere, and so must out. And thus...

I have become very annoyed by seeing that every cookbook on health begins with Hippocrates. “Let Food Be thy Medicine and Medicine, Thy Food…” It always appears somewhere, usually in the first twenty pages, if it wasn’t the opening quote. This concept attributed to Hippocrates, was what drew me into food and nutrition long before I knew who spoke the words. This goes to show how true and natural concepts become pervasive, especially when one is looking for it. And I know that this is a truth. That food heals. But so do our thoughts… and it has gotten to the point that no matter what I put into my mouth, I am in judgment about it. I rationalize, polarize, and vacillate into extremes out of the need to control something! Let me have control over one tiny part of something… let me get out of this fear that unravels and twitters behind every thought, every action: nothing is sincere anymore, or at least, sometimes, it feels this way.

Food has become so many things for so many people. It is not merely what provides sustenance, for many it is comfort, love, acceptance, a drug, an obsession, another means of control, another way to abstain from any sense of being, a numbing shot against pain or grief, pornographic gastronomy.

There it was, on the top of page 30 in Sally Fallon’s Nourishing Traditions: my ultimate issue.

“The desire to abstain from animal products, found so often in those of a spiritual nature, may reflect a longing to return to a former, more perfect state of consciousness that was ours before our souls took embodiment in a physical material plane […].”

I find myself in this struggle of what I relate to in my spiritual sense and my fear and buffering against the joy and the sorrow of the physical body. The compassion for all living creatures, the love in their eyes and innocence, mixed with my craving for animal protein. Most of the time, meat tastes dead to me. But then I can remember a bacon-wrapped date that dissolved in my mouth with such exquisite sweetness, such tender, melt in your mouth, salty, crispy sublimity, it had a density which made the tongue giggle all on its own. And I don't even like pork. But there was such attention put into that meal, that night, in Marin County, under palm trees and lanterns, sharing wine amongst friends.

It’s not that I think raw food is not of benefit to my body, but I have developed so many food-rules for myself, that I feel like I am just using raw as one more way to control what goes in my mouth. I have a very bizarre eating disorder. I’m not bulimic, although I have made myself throw up …more in the last 2 years than ever in my adolescence. But I definitely have a binge-purge pattern going on, especially when I look at my food journal. I didn’t think I starved myself… but some days, I eat hardly anything at all… and wonder why I am so maniacally famished into downing too much pasta or potatoes the next: my body is screaming for quick glucose. I am realizing that I have royally screwed up my relationship with my body. I stopped seeing it as sacred: it was the enemy.

Whenever it comes to food, thoughts about said bacon-wrapped bounty are always essential (in what way, who knows?) … But I think it is also what thoughts and intentions I use in preparation. One of spiritual my teachers, a small Indian man with a gravelly voice would stand over his pot of rice or sautéing ginger garlic onions, and say: “You are so beautiful. You are the most wonderful onions. Look at you, look at how beautiful you are.” The tomatoes blushed in response. The same man also said that whenever you truly enjoy something… not out of craving-aversion-lust-compulsion: but genuinely enjoy – it all turns to soma. And no matter how healthy something else is, if your body is in judgment or in fear-hate-compulsion about it, it becomes ama … undigested matter = dis-ease.

Somewhere between nineteen and twenty-six years old, I had developed a love-hate relationship with food. A need to stuff myself with the most sublime things, coupled at other moments with anything that would do to make me numb, send me into a carbohydrate induced coma, just anything to not feel. Now, to be clear, this was not fast food or ice cream. I was a health foodie, all-organic everything. Whole grain, (spelt, buckwheat, barley, brown rice, quinoa) what’s-it and every manner of vegetable. I had an adventurous palate, within reason (no chicken feet stew or sweetbreads has made it past my lips, and I’m pretty sure that won’t change). But then again, organic pasta was always enough to send me down that dark spiral, where the fog rolls in on the east coast of consciousness and nothing but the blur and heft of fullness can be felt. Here, I didn’t have to think about school or sex or the unfairness I always associated with be female, I could just disconnect from any sub-sensual method of being alive and slip away into a useless stupor; a drug just as powerful as anything you could inject into the bloodstream, by needle, and almost as fast. I was addicted to not feeling. But like any addiction, it never really makes you feel good for very long, and when the fog cleared, the sun always rises the next morning and the pain (which I had pushed so deeply into my sinews, my feminine parts, places I knew that at least, I would never look, into cavernous brokenhearted hotels, muscles, curvaceous fatty deposits that I had never had before) was still there. I am a self-admitted food snob Spiritual egoist, South beach (tried it), Zone (tried it), Macrobiotics (tried it), Ayuveda, Vegetarian, Vegan(tried it), Raw food(tried it): glutton(tired of it). And am so sick of all the labels.

Someone recently asked me, have I ever tried just letting my body have whatever it actually wants? No judgments no second-guessing and after really thinking about it… no I haven’t. I have never actually let my body, not my neuroses, pre-programmed food-abridged rule induced conceptualized intellectualized rationalization, make a single decision in my life. I am beginning to suspect (har) that my issues with food will not go away with being thin or healthy, because they are 100% of the mind.

M has been on this wonderful kick of picking “intention” cards for the week – one of these for me was : I Love My Body.

…maybe I should just try that for awhile. And talking to my mom, she says: wow. I think you think too much. And she says, whenever I start to think too much, I should just breathe. Whenever you see yourself spiral into old thoughts, trying to find someplace in the head where its safe... just breathe. Ok. I will. I'll breathe. Love and Breathe.

Fastfood Footprint

2008-02-22T07:10:00.000-08:00

This is kind of a shocker, well, for the uninformed fast-food nation, at least. But in the debate on global climate change, this especially concerns those from the side who choose to keep eye and ears closed, who believe that SUV's aren't capable of damaging the climate as much as scientists attest ... well they're partly right. The SUV consumer obsession in America just took a backseat to Wendy's, MickeyD's and the Whopper, watch how in Jamais Cascio's Six Degrees: The Carbon Footprint of a Hamburger.

Stairway to Heaven

2008-02-21T11:17:00.000-08:00

These are the kinds of things that just make my day.

I found this picture in an article at TreeHugger.com. The architect described it thus:

"We created a secret staircase, hidden from the main reception room, to access a new loft bedroom lit by roof lights. Limited by space, we melded the idea of a staircase with our client's desire for a library to form a 'library staircase' in which English oak stair treads and shelves are both completely lined with books. With a skylight above lighting the staircase, it becomes the perfect place to stop and browse a tome."

Now, I have to add a loft in my future houses ... because for someone such as myself, who has a hard (nay, impossible) time leaving a bookstore without a purchase. A tome of this ilk would be welcome indeed; complete with a round room at the top of said stairs: a perfect writer's room.

I wonder if they have it organized by genre or subject or author... or color??

Happy Thursday.

The Tugging

2008-02-21T07:11:00.000-08:00

I feel a butterfly tugging, a monarch
of sinew, the mucous arm of the husk,
the cocoons’ warmed & hollow beckoning:
just one more dream.
I follow the first rays of sunlight
out into blue, grey, & green
like a Suzanne Vega song,
a Kerouac humming
on a wide & open road.
Lured by a first glimpse,
until I am strong enough to let
go, & no longer need the thread
To lead me out. I grow outwards
like a fiery crown, afraid to look down,
to see the world offered
like a plum.
The rare softness of damage,
I remember, like a bruised strawberry, the
sweetness is fermented & bloody.
Numbs the tongue so that resistance
becomes like language: easily
drowned out, gagged or confused
by the excesses of darkness.
Frightened of true
speaking, or speaking Truth,
our own in particular. In glances
off armor, off convex & mirrored souls,
the sole reason for flying is not
for fear of dying, but freedom to
love not so lovelessly, to live outside
the smallness of a body,
to not bruise so easily.
Wet between fingertips, the membrane
of birth, new ideas, of my Self,
dry their wings in sunlight.
A space without earth is
harder than it looks.

Lindsay Rose (c) 2008

Dreaming of Mary Oliver

2008-02-20T18:33:00.001-08:00

Wild Geese
by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting,
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

How to Discover If You're a Girl

2008-02-20T13:14:00.000-08:00

If you haven't had the introduction -- let me do so now: *ahem, everyone, meet Margaux of Size Ate:

A clip to inspire:

Some Background:

Changes, Changes

2008-02-20T11:12:00.000-08:00

You might have noticed that I have changed the structure and style (and color) here on this episode of "this old blog" -- And it was purely out of a desire to make things appear more streamlined and clean. I am a colorful chamaelon, and needed to shed a skin, time to make way for new. I guess the little pre-spring heatwave has gotten into the blood already. And yet, this new look still feels like it retains the energy of the older colors and intentions, just quieter. And I feel like I need that right now. But there are lots of new things, so look around. One thing in particular: that I'm very proud to say that I am now an affiliate of Angela Stokes' Raw Reform and I so happy to be helpful to her and Mr. Monarch in any way. And now, for your daily (er.. weekly, uhm, monthly? Aha: whenever-I-feel-like-it) Thinking Man (or Woman)'s Excerpt.

The following is an excerpt from Gnosis & the Law:

"When the word personality is used by the Masters, it does not mean the I AM Presence but the soul as it was developed by man in his many re-embodiments and is manifested now in its totality as his personality. For a better understanding of this, let's bear in mind that man in each and every re-embodiment, creates for himself a personality--the conscience--which is the result of all the experience of that particular life. The soul is the totality of the conscience of all re-embodiments on this planet, since the The Fall of Man. This soul however, should not be confused with the I AM, which is man's real soul, and which was given to him at his creation, when he went through the Seven Spheres, but which was withdrawn later, leaving to him only a microscopic part of the original, and which he tries now to augment via repeated re-embodiments." (The Maha Chohan, in a special letter to his students, June, 1964)

Readjusting

2008-02-19T09:32:00.000-08:00

So, yesterday, after reading my blog, my dear M informs me that it was a bit of rambling, wasn't it? And re-reading it, yes, completely unfocused and garbled and morose, really. But I'm glad I got it all out. Now I can sit down and readjust.

I spent yesterday afternoon reading and cleaning out my computer ... going through old documents, .jpegs, etc and wondering: do I really need this anymore? I come from a long line of pack-rats, and although I can be grateful that I don't have a garage with 40+ or even 10+ years of backlog; my computer does take on a lot of damage in terms of using it hide and tunnel old thought patterns. But sometimes I find good things too. Like Goal setting documents that I wrote one day and disappeared into my hard-drive, folder within folder. Like one of those russian dolls that has a smaller doll on the inside.

I also found old journal entries, spiritual experiences, dreams. I have always had journals, but I have never been any good at keeping them. This blog had tried to come into existence for 3 years before I finally started to actually post with any regularity or any vim.

Today I found a quote I had written in my journal in 2006, by Emerson, and he wrote:

The Gods we worship write their names on our faces, be sure of that. And a man will worship something, have no doubt about that either. He may think that his tribute is paid in secret, in the dark recesses of his heart -- but it will out. That which dominates will determine his life and character. Therefore, it behooves us to be careful what we worship, for what we are worshiping; we are becoming.

And this really made me think, as it must have back then, otherwise, why would I have written it down? I find myself asking: What do I worship? On what alter to I regularly offer thoughts and prayers? Do I prostrate, do I bleed or sacrifice? And I have a confession. I am a terribly egoistic little girl. I try to control things that are beyond controlling, I never ask for help, I don't breathe as deeply as I could and I am scared most of the time. That is all true. I use food and knowledge to distract myself from feeling and progressing. From moving forward. I am afraid. They make for wonderful excuses and mind-numbing apathetic body-gloom. But then again. I know all is well. My soul doth magnify the lord. Om, shanti, shanti, shanti. And because I am choosing it to be so, it will get better.

I have meditated since I was five. It was part of my daily routine and part of our community (TM, fairfield, etc.) and although I left TM behind almost eight years ago... I have always been an advocate of what finding time with one's self can manifest. I am ashamed to say, over the last 3 years, I have even let that slip and do it haphazardly, and boy -- I'll tell ya: I can tell the difference.

I tend to make grandiose promises. I'm really good at planning, tend to be poor at execution. I tend to talk and talk and talk until the desire snuffs out and then I don't have to do anything. Ay, there's the rub.

There are so many things I want to do, but one step at a time. Time to readjust. I am beginning to get so excited about doing the Juice Feast. I can't wait to start. But I am, because I need to prepare. I am trying to read as much as possible. Blogs, juicing, knowledge... I wish I could absorb it all -- just let my body lie along the pages and pore, by pore absorb it like a sponge... words and grace drinking in. *Sigh.

In A Course in Miracles it reads that "health is the result of relinquishing all attempts at using the body lovelessly."

And I am guilty of using my body lovelessly. What wonder could be seen, what gifts unfurled if I could just live and let go...

There's a Native American parable, but I forget which tribe it is actually attributed to, where the Creator (Grandfather in some circles: daddy-mommy-god in others) amasses the clans of his animals and offers the following:

"I want to hide something from my human children until they are ready for it. . . . It is the realization that they create their own reality."

"Give it to me. I'll fly it to the moon," says the Eagle.

"No," says he Creator. "One day soon they will go there and find it."

"How about the bottom of the ocean?" asks the Salmon.

"No," says the Creator. "They will find it there, too."

"I will bury it in the great plains," says the Buffalo.

"They will soon dig and find it there," says the Creator.

"Then put it inside of them," says wise Grandmother Mole.

"Done," says the Creator. "It is the last place they will look."

And so this comes to me while I am reading Rumi and nearly cry when I come upon shining nuggets, like the chants to the steps of the Sufi dance of Universal Peace:

"Come, come whoever you are. This caravan knows no despair.
Even though you have broken your vows, perhaps ten thousand times,
Come, come again."

So, all right. I will come again. Maharishi used to say: desire and let go, the universe will take care of the rest. Ok, that too. I am wake and I will look inside with more love and more patience, and promise that I will walk this path and again, have more patience. And Trust, which is the hardest of all: I will Trust the process. The light can take it from there.

Spring Mud & Letting Go

2008-02-18T08:51:00.000-08:00

Good Monday to you all. I hope it was a fine weekend in your part of the world...I have so much going through my head that I don't know where to begin. So first things first: M and I are heading up to Jackson Hole the first week of March to take care of some wedding things: florists, caterers, etc. He is also planning on taking advantage of the 400+ inches of snow Jackson Hole Resort has been inundated with so far this winter. I am looking forward to a massage or two and maybe a little spa weekend for myself. This is spring break and we were going to head into the heat, but wedding agenda takes precedence, un/fortunately, so into the snow we go!

Another item of business beginning the first of March is the Global Juice Feast. This is the beginning of Kapha season in the Ayurvedic calendar (roughly the time from March through June), when we tend to be blocked, sluggish and congested. Not surprisingly, liver, kidney cleansing and support are recommended during Kapha season and it is not a coincidence that the Christian ritual of Lent evolved from a long period of fasting. This is the time when you begin to take in the lighter, more bitter foods. This is why spring shoots are so wonderful, they are astringent to the system - they help cleanse and remove excess toxins and wring out stagnant water from the system to help escort more oxygen, flexibility and lightness to the body in preparation for the summer season of activity. Mother Nature knows best. Thus, I am beginning a 92-day juice feast on March 1st, 2008. I am looking to completely re-set my body-clock. I am excited and yet, in all honesty, terrified. Even though I did a mini-juice feast (10 days) in October and knew within 3 days how wonderful it was -- my little ego mind is always so terrified to be out of control or to be moving forward up the evolutionary spiral. Once I do embark on anything positive, my body-mind does jump on the bandwagon, it's the beginning it that causes fear. I'm sure I should be on the AIM program and a million other "get-out-of-your-own-way" technologies, and I'm certain I will -- when the time is right.

I am having the hardest time "not-doing only being" -- my head goes into a tailspin wondering what I can do now, now, now to provide myself some purpose. Do I become an artist- writer- nutritionist- teacher- permaculturist-yogi-traveler-photographer-hippiecommune-ist-fill in the blank what-what? Yes, it seems, now that I have stopped chasing what I *thought* I was supposed to be, hoping I'd discover what I really am and who I really am, I am struggling with letting go of it all. And for those of you who know me, that's pretty much par for the course. Letting go Trouble? Nah, really? (har, indeed).

How does one move from the head into the heart? For some it maybe a simple decision, well, for anyone, it is just that, but getting out of the academic nature of the mind is difficult for me; I've been trained to operate this way, six and a half years of university work (BA and MA time alloted) will do that to a person.

Thinking is great, wonderful, necessary, but I wonder if its really as cracked up as its meant to be. I find that it gets me stuck in ruts, down back English roads deep with spring mud. And I can just see myself lifting the hood, checking valves, pushing, kicking the tires, trying to dig my way out, when a shepherd walks up the hill with his flock of sheep whistling a tune, a contented smile on his face and there I stand dumb founded, not realizing that in that moment I am standing witness to the solution. Which is this: you cannot solve old problems with old thinking, old methods of transportation or archaic reasoning...

The question is, why can't I just go and hoof it on foot like the smart ones? Just abandon the vehicle that is causing so much distress, let the elements take it down into its pieces, until rust and moss return it to its most basic attributes and go off on my merry way (** I do hope you all realize this is a metaphor, and that I would never just leave a car to rot in the middle of nowhere...) with a walking stick and a smile?

I still haven't caught on it seems, because I know I'm not walking, yet. I can tell because the scenery isn't changing much; its the same old thoughts, same ruts. And I'm stuck. Maybe you remember watching Winnie the Pooh as kids, when he eats too much honey and can't get out the hole .. er.. front door of his dear worrisome friend, Rabbit's House... but I'm not gorged on honey, I'm overstuffed with thinking, thinking, thinking. Painted into a corner, immobilized and _________, pick any cliché that suits you.

This is why I am looking forward to the feast -- I have no where to run to -- having dealt with compulsive eating in the past, I know that food is a very effective numbing agent. But I have to confront my fears about myself and so this spring is the year I am finally choosing to do something about it... did I mention that I was terrified?

Ok. Onwards. Habitat. Where do we find ourselves living? In the mind, in the heart? In our body? On the planet? Are we ever really in these places with any sincerity or, like destructive termites, we chew up and spit out our surroundings until we have to take over someone else's turf? In this case -- the deer have had their habitat chewed up and spit out by developers, lawnmowers and "civic landscapers."

I remember living in Iowa and walking through our 22 acre property before moving away at 14 years old, and in the long grasses under locusts trees and grand oaks, there would be deer beds. And if you've never seen one, it usually consists of folded grass and padded mounds of earth and droppings. You know when you've walked into one, because the energy changes. You're standing in someone's bedroom. I never get tired of seeing wild animals. Living in the mountains of Colorado I find a lot of jaded persons, who've seen so many, hell -- it's just another deer. I hope I never get like that.

Speaking of over development:

This is Moscow. Today. Someone mentioned it looked like Sauron's wasteland from Lord of the Rings.

When I see this, it breaks my heart.
It breaks my heart when I drive through Denver ghettos and see the bars on the windows of ranch-home developments. Their backyards fenced in from the highway and the open land across the road that could be full of local gardens or wildlife preserves is being pummeled by cattle that will become beef that's recalled too late, due to poor farming practices and a dull sense of human compassion...

So. This blog wasn't meant to be depressing and my apologies outright if it appears that way. It was more a chance to step back and look forward into something brighter. And we all have to do it our own way. For me, it's learning how to navigate my own mud. Learning from the earth how to heal myself is primal and integral, Now. Not later, no waiting, just Now.

So I am juice feasting. For me, for the planet, for everyone else who needs help getting out of a rut. And while I'm in Jackson, maybe I'll get one of those clay mud wraps and make it useful instead of letting my mind insist that life is a burden. It's not, it's just the darkness talking. But here comes the sun and here comes the juicy life and all the brilliance I cannot at this moment fathom. I know it's coming... like Matt Monarch says, the future is so bright...so, so bright.

love and light all. namaste

The Lens-Eye

2008-02-15T12:15:00.000-08:00

In light of recent thoughts and posts, I decided to share some of my photographs... in no particular order, really...

moab

paris
boston

iris farm, boulder

rogue river portrait

self-portraits:

These photos are copyrighted (c) 2008 and may not be used without expressed or written consent of the artist.

Blessings for Borges

2008-02-15T10:28:00.000-08:00

... Phil Borges, that is. Who is he? you ask. He is one of my favorite photographers, and he specializes in Indigenous Portraiture. From Afghanistan, Kenya, Tibet and Thailand, to Native America and Mexico, Peru and Ethiopia; I just want to make sure you all know about him, as he continues to be an inspiration to me.

And his photos are exquisite. He is one of many things pushing me towards a new inspiration, stay tuned, I will soon reveal: my intentions.

But today, keep in mind that --

"[C]ivilization has ceased to be that delicate flower which was preserved and painstakingly cultivated in one or two sheltered areas of a soil rich in wild species […] Mankind has opted for monoculture; it is in the process of creating a mass civilization, as beetroot is grown in the mass. Henceforth, man's daily bill of fare will consist only of this one item. "

-- Claude Levi-Strauss

"They Starve in Their Splendor..."

2008-02-15T09:15:00.000-08:00

I have to both apologize to Ali of Sunflower Eyes-Moonbeam Mind, for stealing her posting subject "Blankets for Land" and thank her so much for bringing this to my attention. Being a Canadian herself, Ali writes about the protests against the 2010 Olympics in BC, because of the mass deforestation occurring to make way for the impressive ski resorts and traffic-ready highways required for such a global feat. Which I am ashamed to say, I hadn't even considered. I, who like to think I am somewhat environmentally savvy, must confess I was in complete oblivion to the obvious destruction such a contractual agreement bestows into the hands of land developers. She further writes "that people (many of whom are native) are being kicked out of low income houses as rent increases and condos are being built in their place." In other words, that the millions upon millions of $ going towards new construction and design could be going to help the poor and mishandled, the evicted and the lost, yet, as is par for the West, we merely sweep them under the rug. And we have been doing this since we came and stole this country. Which, like Ali, I believe that we did. With tricks and massacres, false treaties and "blankets for land."

(Buffy Sainte Marie singing: My Country Tis of Thy People, You're Dying)

Again, like Ali, being Caucasian, e.g. of mixed blood from the Old Atlantic World, there is a guilty tug that comes from inside the sinews... I often feel responsible in a way. I want so much to be able to walk among them, to learn from them, to help in any way they deemed me capable. But I'm white, and because of this, an issue arises and so does a bloody history. Sometimes I just wish I had dark hair, just for my blood to be not so blatantly visible.

I strongly believe that the indigenous peoples of this earth are the Heart of the planet, no matter to where it is that we have shoved, dragged, relegated, buried & forgotten them. They are the ones still tied to the old energies. Their understanding of life is so much more complex than most have ever given them credit for. Or continue to ignore... because of our own ignorance (aha).

And this post from Sunflower Eyes-Moonbeam Mind, comes upon the tail winds of some other news I was so enthused to hear: that the Republic of Lakotah, being "the predecessor sovereign of Dakota Territory as evidenced by the Treaties with the United States Government, including, but not limited to, the Treaty of 1851 and the Treaty of 1868 at Fort Laramie [...] formally and unilaterally withdraws from all agreements and treaties imposed by the United States Government on the Lakotah People." Meaning that, as of December 17, 2007, they are beginning their secession process from the United States of America. I think this absolutely wonderful and amazing. And I am sorry to see as much white backlash as there has been about the issue and how poorly educated many are about the state of the indigenous peoples and the racist, bigoted mentality that infests too many of us like a crippling plague, spiritually, intellectually or otherwise.

So what can I add to this? Being white, being European. Do I, like Ali asks, apologize? Say: I'm Sorry...? Yes. I do. I kneel at the knee of elders and ask for forgiveness, for all the wicked and the thiefs that run in my bloodline. Most Natives act with the awareness of 7 Generations. Meaning, I can apologize for 7 before mine, which makes that approximately 140 years. It's definitely not the beginning of violence on behalf of the colonizing, imperial Atlantic world but if I can heal anything, I can only do so now, with the knowledge that I have and with the small trickle of grace that may be garnered in being a part of right action and the desire to heal and create a better life and world heart and mind, together. Maybe the first step needs to be stepping back, not into the past but just enough to see the larger picture, to seek the higher perspective and to abolish selfishness as a course of action. To choose compassion, instead...and when I read:

"If you live on this land, and you have ancestors sleeping in this land, I believe that makes you a native to this land. It has nothing to do with the color of your skin. I was not raised to look at people racially. What I was taught is that we're flowers in the Great Spirit's garden. We share a common root, and the root is Mother Earth." Oh Shinnah

It brings peace, and it brings me hope.

Thus, in this light, I have every intention to support their secession. This means that 5 states will be affected by the founding or re-founding of a New Nation: Wyoming, Montana, North and South Dakota and a large swath of Nebraska. They have extended their hand to any living in these states to come and join them in creating a new government, a new way of being and a new way of relating to each other, in general. This, to me, feels so indicative of the coming Shift in Consciousness, which is both ordained and inevitable but has so many running scared, while others are learning there is no where to run, nowhere to go, but up... up to a higher efficiency, energetically or relationally, by coming face-to-face with their s#^@ and realizing that it must be dealt with. I hope that this occurs. I hope that this brings the US State Department into some kind of integrity (fat chance, I know) and relinquishes what we have stolen back to its rightful owners...

Russell Means, one of the leaders of the American Indian Movement speaks out on this topic explicitly at the Lakota Pine Ridge, South Dakota-Lakotah in Oglala, SD at the Porcupine School.

Mitaku Oyasin! <<We are all related.>> I choose to be free and to be responsible.

Priorities

2008-02-14T13:33:00.000-08:00

Found this online -- thought is was a brilliant way to put things in perspective...

Where should our thoughts go? Where do our priorities lie? What is so very sad is that everything on this list is preventable. Drunk Driving -- everyone knows: don't do it. Second hand smoke? 'Nuff said. Diabetes -- completely reversible, cancer does not have to be a reality in anyone's lifetime, smoking? again. Heart disease. Even the terrorism, to some degree. We could change the world... and why don't we? Because many do not know they they are immense and powerful.

Today on this lovely day for loving each other
what if we made a pact to actually send love out to everyone? To focus on the kind of world, body, lover, life we would like to have? Instead of griping why it isn't how we hoped? We are the creators and the mover-shakers -- we are the dreamers.

Remember: "Your life has an inner purpose and an outer purpose. Inner purpose concerns Being and is primary. Outer purpose concerns doing and it is secondary. Your inner purpose is to awaken. It is as simple as that. You share that purpose with every other person on the planet - because it is the purpose of humanity.
Your inner purpose is an essential part of the purpose of the whole, the universe and its emerging intelligence. Your outer purpose can change over time. It varies greatly from person to person. Finding and living in alignment with the inner purpose is the foundation for fulfilling your outer purpose. It is the basis for true success. Without that alignment, you can still achieve certain things through effort, struggle, determination, and sheer hard work or cunning. But there is no joy in such endevor, and it invariably ends in some form of suffering."
-- Ekhart Tolle

And I just can't get that Buddha story out of my head...because there is actually a tale of Buddha and his young disciple, who comes forward and asks what he may do to experience Nirvana... Buddha says — love everyone in the world as you love me. And so the disciple bows, accepts the grace of the Master and goes off to achieve his direction. After some time he returns to the Master and the Buddha asks him how goes his quest and the young man bursts out in confession that he can love everyone in the whole world but two people and Buddha asks, which two? And he said my wife and my brother, because they had an affair and both have abandoned my company, my heart is broken and I cannot forgive them. And the Buddha is silent for a moment and then he says. Very well, Disciple I release you of your task: you no longer have to love everyone in the world as you love me.... He says: You only have to love just those two.

What would happen if this became our practice? I know this sounds hippster-ish but it is a very valid intention, and we obliterate ourselves with our food practices, our thought and body practices... what would happen if we could love into the world. Heal, perhaps? Expand. Grow. Love. Just love... what would happen then?

St. Valentine's Brings Snow

2008-02-14T09:37:00.000-08:00

I have, growing up, been told that it is auspicious on holy days for there to be snow or rain... Today as of 4 am, drifting fluffy snow, white as virginity has been falling all over the Boulder valley. Pure as the driven snow indeed. It was 65 degrees yesterday. I wore flip-flops. Ahh, yes. The rocky mountains climactic conundrum. If its 70 degrees in the middle of winter: guaranteed -- there will be snow tomorrow. But, today, it seems to blanket and wash clean past hurts and burnish new hearts and new hopes for securing a certain someone's affections. Luckily, I have a “someone,” already.

My intended M and I have very low-key plans for the day. Dinner, a movie. Chocolate. I told you, I'd make a terrible Catholic. M and I have been considering this whole Lent thing and think that we should (maybe now immediately, maybe next year) add something good in, instead of trying to take something away. Like add more walks, more time in seva (service) to the world, be more kind, more patient. Those sort of things. And instead of doing it only for the traditional duration, add it in as something we think will enhance our lives and our beings in a larger and longer sense than a timed deprivation.

Anyhow -- Valentine's Day. I must admit -- this was never a holiday I ever got thrilled about since lower-school when we still got to make all our own Valentines, I always liked that. But I think its just such an odd day. I like the concept but have never gotten into it. You go out, have dinner, go see a movie, cannoodle when you get home, etc. I like the flowers I get... I love flowers.

Yet, on this day, My beloved, M has purchased a vita-mix for me. A 3hp giant of juicing, blending power and its one more thing I have been feeling a Jones for on my way to going more and more raw. Now I can make my own nut-mylks! Hurrah! It is a required staple in the Raw Superhero Household, after all. The more I eat things that are alive, I can't believe the difference. Every morning, I drink my cucumber-celery-apple-parsley-lemon juice (almost -- I do mix it up on occasion, sometimes kale, romaine, raspberry, pineapple, etc. But 9/10 its very very green); it's like drinking liquid sunshine and I can't believe anyone uses coffee to wake up in the morning. Anyhow. I am very happy.

Now a little history notation for you all out there: did you know that St.Valentine's day only became associated with romantic love in the circle of Chaucer in the High Middle ages,when the tradition of courtly love was flourishing in high fashion? It showed up in his Parlement of Foules (1382).

For this was on seynt Volantynys day Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese [choose] his make [mate].

There you are. History lesson accomplished. And now a poem, and I will leave you all to love and be loved and Happy Valentine's Day!

e.e. cummings --
who knows if the moon's
a balloon,coming out of a keen city
in the sky--filled with pretty people?
(and if you and i should
get into it, if they
should take me and take you into their balloon,
why then
we'd go up higher with all the pretty people
than houses and steeples and clouds:
go sailing
away and away sailing into a keen
city which nobody's ever visited, where
always
it's
Spring) and everyone's
in love and flowers pick themselves

Gratitude

2008-02-13T06:48:00.000-08:00

I have been awarded a Creative Blogger Award by Miss Neeta! She had the nicest and most feather preening kind things to say; She put me amongst Gone Raw and Matt Monarch! Very prestigious company, in my opinion. I am quite humbled, but also, I am so grateful for her friendship. You can find her at Internal Dynamic Healing, and if you're lucky, you'll catch some of her wonderful poetry.

Now, to pass it on:

1. Courtney Pool of Radical Radiance - who has been such an inspiration to me and a kind friend. She inspires me to be creative with my life, to jump in, soak in the sunshine: and most importantly, to not be afraid to create a life that is all my own, fit just for me. Creating my own body, mind, soul to reflect and express as individually and powerfully as she is fearless in doing her own. Plus she just created a new company. So this award is hers.

2. Adventures of Raw Goddess Heathy -- you make the most amazingly delicious and inspiring eats: I can't wait till I have tried them all. You prove that being raw can be inspiring and creative, far from merely lackluster cookies and grawnola! Your creations sing and I am so grateful for their ingenuity. They're exciting and delicious.

3. Ms. Angela Stokes at Raw Reform -- what can I say. I have never met you (though hope to do so at this years Raw Spirit Fest) but you have been such a light into my world. You inspired me to do my very first, albeit short (10 day) juice feast and I have nothing but love and admiration for you and your story and your exuberance for life. You deserve this award because you created for yourself a new life, light, body, and a new day every day. I am so grateful for this creative power you express. It has helped shape my own light in me.

4. Jordan Ratford at Ecclesia Gnostica In Nova Albion, to whom I am grateful because of the light that is cast into darkness by any who seeks to create for themselves a relationship to the Spirit and the Light. And how he creates a place where I may come and learn.

5. Suki Zoë Qito, because of the quietude and joy I feel so often reading her words. The sheer superhero-ness she exudes alone, deserves the bestow-ment of creative admiration and thanks.

thank you all for inspiring and encouraging me to create my best life everyday.

Endgame by Derrick Jensen

2008-02-09T13:12:00.000-08:00

This is a great two hour talk (in two parts) that has Jensen go through the premises in his book Endgame Part 1: The Problem with Civilization, which is easily attained through Amazon.com. Also on the agenda is an article, which, although it came out this past November, I missed it. And thought, if I had missed it, maybe some of you had too. It's called Earth's Eighth Continent, and you can access it by clicking it. What can I say? I want to make it easy for you.

Part 1:

Part 2:

Ask Your Doctor if Mercury is Right for You!

2008-02-07T10:44:00.001-08:00

Ever wondered what was in the Flu vaccine?

Want a Natural Alternative? What follows was borrowed from Natural News Health Ranger Mike Adams, click here to read the full article:

The Homemade Flu Kit

"Grab a few handfuls of the following, all fresh: ginger, onion, horseradish, garlic, & lemon. Roughly chop them up and pack into a 1-quart canning jar, leaving a few inches at the top. Add anywhere from 1/2 to 2 teaspoons (or more if you like it really spicy!) of cayenne pepper. Cover with organic raw apple cider vinegar. Cover the top of the jar with a square of waxed paper before placing lid on, then seal. This is to stop the acid in the vinegar corroding the metal lid.

Shake well and leave on your kitchen counter, out of direct sunlight. Every time you walk by that jar, give it another shake. You may also want to talk to it, sing, recite poetry, smudge sacred herbs, dance, tell it a good joke or whatever you like to make your medicine more potent.

For two weeks, shake the jar and do your magic. At the end of two weeks, pour it through a kitchen strainer, wash your canning jar out well, and return the liquid to the jar. You may want to add, at this point, a few tablespoons glycerin (which will give it a pleasant sweetness, a nice foil for the hot, tart taste) or honey. If you add honey, you’ll need to refrigerate it, but glycerin requires no refrigeration. I strongly recommend buying some 2 ounce dropper bottles because you’ll want a bottle a your desk, in your kitchen, by your bedside, and in the car. Use liberally to boost immunity, fight infection, soothe the throat, open the sinuses, stimulate circulation and energy, and generally improve health. Add to soup or salad to spice them up and give a boost-though I usually just drop it directly into my mouth."

Thanks Health Ranger Mike!

Ashes Before the Rise of the Juice Feast

2008-02-06T07:01:00.000-08:00

Today is Ash Wednesday and begins the Lenten Season which ends on Easter Sunday. Not that I am a particularly religious person, but I have always thought such seasons, be it Lent or Ramadan (among others) were always helpful and beautiful and healing. And for the past few years I have really been intrigued by taking it on as a practice. And so for Lent, I am making a list of some things I will be abstaining from during the next 40 days, and one of the things that I am giving up is sugar. I never eat processed sweets or white sugar: I use agave, honey and maple syrup. But I am going to be nixing those too. M always says that I should give up reading for Lent, because I love books more than I love anything else... but I just can't get myself to even consider that. wink. I don't think I'd make a very good Catholic.

I am furthermore, so very excited about the Global Juice Feast 2008, beginning in March, (come and join us!) it is the perfect time of the year to do so. And in that light, I was thinking maybe we could start a post entitled Global Juice Feast 101 ... and anyone who writes in to me, and gives me their favorite juicing concoction, I will post it in the "101" all throughout the juice feasting. That way, as a group we'll never grow bored and always have an array of new ideas and flavors. Let me know what you think about this...

Be a Light Unto Others

2008-02-06T07:00:00.000-08:00

Woody Harrelson Interview from "RAW for 30 Days"

Woody Harrelson & Morgan Spurlock clip from "RAW for Life"

Saying Goodbye to One of the Men in My Life

2008-02-06T06:21:00.001-08:00

Yesterday morning, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi passed on from this world.

Many may or may not know him, the Beatles knew him and so did upwards of 7,000 meditating yogis in the Midwest and California, additionally around the globe. He introduced TM to the West and helped to make Ayurveda, Meditation and Yoga the household concepts they are becoming, in many parts of the country.

I grew up in his "utopia" of Fairfield, Iowa. And he was the Guru of mine and my family's life for the first 14 or 15 years I was on this planet. And that, I am sure is conservative when compared to others in the community...

Which, I can only imagine is in mourning right now... Roundings, puja and prayer...

Om Namah Shivaya,
Om Guru, Om Guru
Deva Deva
Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti
Peace Peace Peace
rest in holy peace. Jai Guru Dev.

Turning the Light on With John

2008-02-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

It seems to me that the only true Christians were (are?) the Gnostics, who believe in self-knowledge, i.e., becoming Christ themselves, reaching the Christ within. The Light is the Truth. All any of us are trying to do is precisely that: Turn on the Light.

– John Lennon

The Mystery of Beauty

2008-01-30T09:07:00.001-08:00

Seek, all of you, after the Light, so that the power of your Soul that is in you may live. Do not desist from seeking by day and by night, until you find the purifying mysteries of the Light which refine the body of matter and make it a pure Light very refined. Do to all men who come to you and believe in you and listen to your words what is worthy of the mysteries of the Light, give the mysteries of the Light and do not hide them from them. For he who shall give life to a single soul and liberate it, besides the Light that is in his own soul, he shall receive other glory in return for the soul he has liberated.

- Book of Sophia

and a soundtrack to go along with it...

... that's all.

"The Gnostic Road"

2008-01-30T07:30:00.000-08:00

Everything below is taken completely and with gratitude from Jordan Stratford's blog Ecclesia Gnostica in Nova Albion from the Section Gnosticism 102. I am deeply grateful for this site, since it seems to resonate with my own understandings of things, in that, I am always trying to see how the pieces of religion fit together. Gnosticism seems to resonate with ideas in the Vedanta tradition, Buddhism, Qabalah, Greek Philosophy and Egyptian Hermetic understandings. In other Words, it has it all. And...I thought the following would be of benefit to share.

"What follows is sometimes called "The Gnostic Road", and relates to the personal process of becoming a Gnostic.

1) Aporia ("roadlessness"). A feeling of disorientation or exclusion from the accepted conventions of the world, and a sense that "this is not the deal". The certainty that something is wrong with the universe, and creeping paranoia that a) this is not the real world and b) that the forces in charge of this world are hiding something secret, something powerful.

2) Epiphany ("shining above"). The big light bulb over the head, the primal "Aha!" that reveals the glowing spark of divinity in all things. A perception of real and immediate and undeniable TRUTH in art and life and joy and beauty and the sacred real.

3)Agon ("struggle"). This is where things get ugly. The problem is, the Opposition is real, organized, and thoroughly pissed off at your recent epiphany. You're suddenly a lightning rod for "bad luck" in the form of THE SYSTEM - parking tickets, tax audits, bank charges, mechanical failures, illness, miscommunication. People are "worried about you". This is where most people either give up and deny their epiphany, or go crazy and talk to themselves on the bus. The real struggle is in finding equilibrium - knowing what you know, and continuing to live in the world. Rendering unto Caesar. Sitting down with the Archons and negotiating some kind of truce.

4) Gnosis ("knowledge"). Equivalent to the satori of Zen or the nirvana of Hinduism, this is personally-negotiated spiritual enlightenment. A first-hand experience of divinity as real and present. Tag, you're it.

5) Charis ("grace"). This is Sainthood, the ability to radiate your own gnosis to others, and overcome the limitations imposed on you by the Archons."

This is a symbol of the Pistis Sophia... I want this on my car!!

So, Neo... Choose.

2008-01-30T06:42:00.000-08:00

The Matrix

Two Weeks & Past Loves

2008-01-23T07:35:00.000-08:00

I have now been to two Still Life Classes and one figure in graphite class here in town at the CCA. I don't know how I went so long without doing this...maybe a little background is in order.

My history with art goes back to age 2 when I, having gotten hold of a box of crayons, managed to draw a squiggly mural all over a white wall in my parent's first house, the entire length of the wall and as high as I could jump. It also (probably rightly so) garnered me my first spanking. I was forced to find smaller mediums to channel my creativity. **smile**

I began taking art classes, privately at the age of seven or eight. First grade I think. I did local art day camps in the summers and private study in the fall and winter (apart from bi-weekly art classes in school). I can still remember learning how to draw glass, candlesticks, light from a candle. Seeing reflections. I owe her my ability to compose still-life's and my eye, basketweaving, and pinch pots, gingerbread houses and putting Parmesan on my popcorn.

By age twelve I was in group classes with a local woman who had a large backyard and horses next door. There, I learned color study, aesthetics, oil painting and pen and ink. And continued there for three years, during the school year. until my family moved away from Iowa to Wyoming.

I was also studying weekly with local art teacher and the mother of a friend of mine in the class ahead of me. I wanted to be an Artist. I always wanted to be an artist. I even spent 6 weeks of my summer at the NCSA (North Carolina School of the Arts).

It wasn't until I was in college in Arizona that I realized I was detesting my studio classes but falling fast for Art History. When I transfered to Colorado, it would end with a Humanities major with emphases in Literature and Art History/Fine Arts. I think that part of the stall of my affair with studio was due tot he fact that Arizona wouldn't let me portfolio out of the Foundation classes. I had done drawing and color theory since I was nine. But they were of "we all start down here" mentality... which (to be honest) looking back at it, was fine. And probably needed, you can always need more practice drawing. I was just an arrogant little poop and thought I was above it. My art profs were either jerks or confused at what I could actually accomplish in texture and color with just a box of prismacolor colored pencils.

Anyway, long story short. I stopped drawing, period. I started focusing on photography in college. Which was fine, but I lost my hand-eye coordination...

This past October I took a fundamentals drawing class and despite my fear and my anxiety (what if I'd lost it and could never get it back? what if I was never ever meant to be an artist...etc. etc.), when I stood in front of the easel, despite my mind's loop-de-loops, my hand and body and heart knew how to proceed. I wasn't as polished as I'd been at 15 or 16 years old when I went to NCSA... but somehow, the body remembered all the training it had gotten beginning almost twenty years ago, and abandoned nigh-on completely seven years ago... don't be timid, just start putting something down. Focus the eye, soften the gaze. Squint if you have to. And time disappeared for 6 weeks, and I fell in love with this feeling again. It was magical. And so very needed when I was just barely treading water in my MA, grades were fine, but my Soul just wasn't in it. And it's been two weeks and I don't miss being in school like I was a month ago. At all.

Who knows where this will go, but I can promise myself that I will never let myself put art aside again. It is like life-blood. It is somatic and moving. Don't get me wrong, I still worry that I won't be good enough (I am highly competitive and a notorious perfectionist. But, I am beginning again and returning to an old love. It's subtle and thrilling. More later, of course...

The Forest Garden

2008-01-21T09:13:00.001-08:00

This is evidence again at the simple wonders of permaculture. And shows (again) how the natural world can teach us exactly how to behave in a symbiotic relationship, versus our dominate-devour mentality.

I keep thinking about the earliest writings of the American puritans, like John Winthrop's "city on a hill" speech... believing that the US continent was a forgotten place of darkness, that God had given them a land to lay under his dominion. To save it from darkness, remove it from chaos by organizing the world into gardens (like the English and French) and create order, and thereby: goodness. The fear of the wilderness and the wild frontiers of an "unpopulated" land was overwhelming and demonic and filled with savages and the lost. (Hmm, they must've been reading Milton at some point, right?) I wonder if this mentality has really led to the agricultural practices that have becoming ubiquitous today... this desire to tame the wild Nation? But then I think of John Muir, Thoreau and Emerson (the Transcendentalist movement in general) and I am infatuated with their views. Take Emerson, who, when walking, notices the many farmers who each carve and foster fields and call the land: "theirs," but, he says, with wonder, that none own the landscape they create collectively... the view that he is witness to, belongs to everyone. No one can lay claim to it.

I don't quite know where I am going with this, but I guess I am just too much of an optimist, to much a reveler in the natural world, even if I am just really beginning to learn and love its complexity. It is snowing again, very lightly in the mountains... Yoga has been wonderful, and humbling and difficult, but good, overall I feel. I went again this morning and will go again tomorrow evening. But again, this is off topic: So may the forest garden bring growth, or ideas of growth into your day and may you go looking for landscapes that belong to the eye and the mind of those smart enough and brave enough to seek them, and open enough to see them for the beauty and not just a dark chaos.

It Goes Lalalala

2008-01-17T21:14:00.000-08:00

It's always good to end the day with a bit of music, I feel.

glen hansard and markéta irglová @ Sundance last february

The Choice

2008-01-17T07:47:00.000-08:00

I know this is old, and I'm sure many of you have already seen it, but I just think this is still so spot on -- and as I see Hilary Clinton starting to sweep up some campaign markers into the trunk of her tour bus -- I find this is even more appropriate.

"It's not about curing illness -- it's about being healthy"

Another Reason to Be Vegetarian

2008-01-15T10:02:00.000-08:00

This has just been passed, the FDA, according to CNN and New York Times, has okay-ed the meat and milk of cloned animals for human consumption. And since we have a corrupt system, there will be no labeling of which milk and meat is from such animals. Remember, your hamburger is made from the ground meat of approximately 1000 animals, as it is.

They say that they want to clone prize winning bulls, etc. for butchering. Are they wanting to completely overhaul the cattle industry? So eventually we will just have cloned animals and no natural born creatures anymore? If this isn't playing God, I don't know what is.

I don't eat meat, and as of now, I only eat raw homemade yogurt and raw cheeses (maybe 1-2x/wk). But the FDA doesn't understand that nutrition is not just about protein and carbs and fat. It's about minerals, vitamins and life-source, i.e. natural God-given life. So if you haven't given up meat and conventional dairy yet, maybe now is the time to start.

The Life School

2008-01-15T07:07:00.000-08:00

So. yesterday was my first official day of non-school. In that, yesterday spring semester classes began, and I was not a part of them. Instead I went to yoga during my lunch hour, and had a still-life drawing class in the evening. And I don't feel guilty or regretful or sad at all.

It was a bit difficult to let it all go though. At first, what was so interesting was watching every little negative thought come up -- "What will people think??" That I wasn't smart enough? That I couldn't hack it? I mean every manipulative ego trip that could be dragged out, every self-esteem lowering, cowardly, fearful judgment rose up for me to contend with. My usual action is to try and "think" my way out of it. Give my mind a "reason" that I was doing what I was doing, logically. I was justifying my decisions to myself!! Who do I think I am?? This time, due to some helpful advice from Dad, I just sat with all those uncomfortable feelings, I didn't try to sate them, or reason them away -- It was all very zen -- I allowed them to be, I noticed them, but did not provide them any other place to go and did not offer any other way for them to garner more power or feed them with more fear -- I just let them spin themselves out quietly.

What has happened because of this is a sudden shift in perspective. Once all the fear went away, it was only peace and blue skies. My Dad has been telling me this for years, about the Flip. Let me explain: because nothing in the world is actually linear, not time, not space, etc. It is always (100% of the time) connected with its opposite. Love, Hate, Fear, are the main ones that every other emotion stems from. When one does not try to run the other emotion off, but sits with it all the way through, without judgment of trying to reason with it... but just being aware of it and its Illusive nature -- eventually you will hit that part of the connectivity, where the emotion Flips, or at least your perspective of the experience does. And that's what happened: I rode that wave of fear all the way to the beaches of tranquility.

There is so much more I need to be doing right now. The world is going through massive upheaval and it is only going to intensify. I need to (like all other human beings incarnate right now) is rebuild and consecrate my relationship with my own divinities and also, the planet.

When I dropped all pretenses about what I would fill my time with now that I was leaving school, my little mind did a bit of a fear-flight and was racing to find things "to do" but what I am coming to understand, and would be helpful for everyone to consider sincerely, is that you don't have to "do" anything -- you just have "to be" and do so with intention and grace and presence. And everything else just works itself out from there... because we are all children of the same Father-Mother-Creator (wherever your theology guides you). Fear is at the root of separation. Every action comes back to Love, Hate, Fear.

And Love really is all there is, every other emotion is in response to lack, or judgment about, but it all comes back. For instance, hate and anger are often useful together. But hate is usually much more localized then we tend to use it. We don't usually hate someone, but we hate (or have intense anger about) something they did or said.

So let's say, a little boy runs into the street, into traffic -- he doesn't get hurt, but when the Mother drags him back out of danger she is very very angry (she hates what he just did) and she yells: "Don't you ever do that again! Ever!"

Why is she angry at her son? She is angry because she was scared. Anger often comes out of fear... and why was she scared? Because she loves him and was afraid she would lose him. Anger, from fear, from lack of love. See?

This is just a roundabout way of saying -- stop trying to DO things to justify your existence. Just learn how to be and all will be well. Remember -- You can have whatever it is you want. You are the mover-shaker-maker -- and you create your own world of experience -- so what world do you want to live in?

I have posted that little film about Permaculture and Greening the Desert in the past. This is my next step ( I mean I have lots of things I want to do but), this is what I want to put my energy towards. It is such an amazing and beautiful thing, and funny-enough, it actually combines all of my interests, all of my past studies: it is the perfect flowering of seeds I had planted long ago not knowing their variety. I want to help others re-learn what it means to be human. Part of this truth is becoming reconnected with the landbase and with their bodies and unplug them from a civilization that is crumbling. Not that civilization itself is a bad thing, but ours has been "sick" for a very very long time.

That is is my philosophizing for the morning; I am off to drink some nettle leaf tea.

Permaculture

2008-01-13T08:02:00.000-08:00

This is a somewhat old, but wonderful video. This is what I have been into recently and am looking for ways to learn more about it, become certified. This seems so much more important than my Masters in Literature -- there will only be stories to talk about if civilization doesn't destroy itself. The more I look at things like this, the more I realize how much we have f#$^ed up in our relationship with the planet...

Please, enjoy this explanation of Permaculture with the Man who Began it: Bill Mollison

The Geometry of Light

2008-01-07T08:12:00.001-08:00

The Avenue of the Giants, Redwood National Park: August 2007

Once Upon a January

2008-01-05T21:07:00.000-08:00

I know I have been neglecting the blog recently. I am decompressing. I begin yoga this coming week. And as I become more accustomed to my body, I'm sure I'll have things to talk about.

But happy January! I'm doing wonderfully. I will return soon.

The Last Night of the Year

2007-12-31T18:43:00.000-08:00

These are the last thoughts.... and you shone your love through the light of the stars...

Loreena McKennitt singing "Dante's Prayer"

Happy New Year Everyone!

Final Countdown

2007-12-31T07:12:00.000-08:00

I have been up since 5:30 this morning -- in fact-- this has been my regular wake up time for the past several weeks (on average). I feel much more awake the rest of the day when I do.

Those of you that have been reading (and I know there are some of you *wink) the blog for a bit, know that I have had some career issues. In that I have been trying to decide what to do with myself. And I made a pact with the divine about certain prospects and what agreements and commitments I was willing to make and what has come about due to our discussions is that:

I will not be returning to finish my MA in Literature. I know this is a bit of a turn about from my November blog ... but as of now I am letting go. I am refocusing my desires and heading down a new path. One I have actually been suppressing due to fear of all number of things. I have been so depressed for years and didn't know it. I had pushed all of my fears and stress deep into my musculature and wondered why life felt stiff and immobile and stagnant.

Including life decisions and career decisions.

I have been miserable for the last year and a half because I find this academia to be so disconnected. At least for me. I really don't care a giant hoot's worth whether Freud's Oedipal complex is running rampant through Victorian Literature or classical Greek tragedy. Although it is interesting to read about the historicity of the novel and the extensive biography of the author -- I find, all in all -- being able to deconstruct a text does not increase my enjoyment of it as a story... pretty much, never. I need something that speaks to me on a soul level... and books always will -- but I don't want to pull things apart anymore -- I want to put the pieces back together. I want to stop being scared and being timid and actually build a life that will make me happy, rather than just practical. What has been amazing is that as soon as I actually felt myself release my sense of obligation to finish in order to receive a piece of paper testifying that I had read enough and written enough to be qualified to talk about reading and writing (har) -- I began to feel light and giddy and I even giggled. I felt happy. Genuine happy. I have so many more options now. I feel free... I had forgotten what that felt like...

And this is one of the reasons why I deleted my post from yesterday about Bhutto, well, I did it for a number of reasons. But they are all in alignment to the same end goal, I feel.

1) I do not feel it is my best light to focus on fearful things.

2) this does not mean that I do not feel it is a tragedy and not horrible and terribly indicative of the consciousness on the planet but -- I want this blog to be about good things. About creative things.

3) I want this blog to be about uplifting and inspiring and sharing and not about setting out to dispel ignorance in a way that is confrontational. It never works anyways. The only thing that ever works is to challenge people to actually feel. To sit with them in such a way that they are open to exploring what drives them. Fear is always the case. In some way or another, always... all ways.

4) I want to start the New Year out in such a way that it speaks only to the person I want to be.

Thus I am seeking to begin with light and love and a sense of freedom from who I thought I was supposed to be and allowing myself instead to become who I actually am. I feel like I have been so stuck in my head, my masculine side, my intellectual obsessions that I have become completely disconnected from my body and my somatic intelligence. So this year will be the year of Becoming Lindsay and one spent actually living in the body, versus trying to escape it.

GOALS

* I want a steady daily yoga practice (I was gifted a 30-Day pass so I will begin in the New Year)
* I want a deep & beautiful daily meditation practice
* I want open lungs, heart, mind & hips
* I want to be more in tune with nature
* I want to grow my own garden (when the weather is warmer, of course)
* I want to live in a manner that rebuilds the temple.
* I want to explore a more conscious and living food lifestyle
* I want to meet David Wolfe & Gabriel Cousens
* I want to spend time at Tree of Life Rejuvenation Center (In February!!)
* I want to travel and see and experience amazing things
* I want the best life ever
* I want to read books & write books & make books & draw books (& finish books)!
* I want to be an artist again
* I want to meet Neil Gaiman

(getting married, of course, is already on the books!) So that's my "beginning." My Goals for the year of 2008 and L'année de Moi.

And as I sit here, drinking my morning juice of celery-apple-cucumber-lemon-kale -- I think this will be a most amazing year indeed. The Best Year Ever! I am so excited to begin.

New for New Years

2007-12-28T15:25:00.000-08:00

I am, as of late, in the business of creating a New Me. I no longer wish to be nipped at the heels by past doubts, obsessions and down-trodden thinking. As the year of 2007 is headed for a close, it seems to be the perfect time. 2007, in numerology translates to an energy number of 9 -- a number of completion. and 2008, being a "10" (or a 1) is all about New Beginnings. It makes sense to close a chapter and start clean and fresh in a whole new way. 2007 marks my last year of school, it marks my last year of writing "single" or "unmarried" on taxes or other forms. I am 27 and I am also experiencing my own year of completion. I have decided that I am beginning a new Be-ing for New Years.

I have spent all afternoon cleaning out files from my computer and old emails. I even changed mine. I am throwing out old magazines and giving away books that no longer add to my understanding of the world. My Bookshelves are far too full and because of this, I am energetically blocking out new Ideas! I am going to give a lot away, I decided today.

I am making plans to go to The Tree of Life center in Patagonia, AZ sometime in February and March. I am planning travel and have signed up for more Art Classes. I feel happy just thinking about this... I haven't felt this way: this free for a long long time. I have found that I am no longer willing to be miserable for the sake of practicality and society's definitions of success. I want to be me to the fullest degree and so I am not going to settle a year, month, day longer.

When I step into 2008 I will bring with me only what is needed. No baggage, no clutter, and No Negativity. What you put your attention on Grows and so I am only willing to attract into my life those things and those people and those ideas which assist me in fulfilling my highest potential and purpose, everything else is merely road blocks and detours. I feel like I have stalled long enough. Whether I am have been fearful of failure (or success?), I feel somewhere inside that their is a bigger life for me and so. Here I go. I am seeking a new sense of Be-ing.

Mayan Calendar

2007-12-27T08:44:00.000-08:00

So I know that the talk of the Mayan Calendar is really popular right now, but I feel that it's very important and the more I research and study it, the more accurate I find it to be. I am posting a lecture by Ian Xel Lungold who, sadly, died in 2005. Please sit and watch the whole seminar when you have time, and for more info, then track down Mayan Majix. He is very kind hearted, patient and makes this so easy to understand. Of course, he recommends, as I do, that you do more in depth research on your own. Here's the seminar from Whitehorse in 2004, and I apologize for the foreign captioning.

Part 1

Part 2

Abraham-Hicks

2007-12-24T10:34:00.000-08:00

"What better way could anyone spend money than back into the economy which gives more people work? What you call your economy is the exchange of human Energy. And so, think back a few hundred years about what your economy was in this nation. And what has changed? Have more resources been trucked in from other planets? Or have more people, over more time, just identified more things that they desire -- and the Nonphysical Energy that is endless and infinite supplies that? We never hear any of you say, "Well, I have been well for so many years, that I've decided that I'm going to be sick for a while to allow some other people to be well." Because you know that whether you're well or not doesn't have anything to do with them not getting enough wellness. You're not using up the wellness and depriving them of it. And it is the same thing with the abundance. People that have managed to find vibrational harmony with abundance, so that it is flowing to them and through them -- are not depriving anyone else of that abundance."

Excerpted from one of their workshops in Orlando, FL on Sunday, January 10th, 1999

If you have not already inquired into this click here to learn how to purchase "The Law of Attraction 5CD series" It's so wonderful, amazing, consider it a requirement -- AND it goes so much farther than "The Secret" -- which I consider to be dangerous, because it does not discuss the nature of things as deeply as they should be understood. What Abraham Hicks touches on is the ABSOLUTE requirement to create from the heart space, that is: with feeling, lest you invite the duality of creativity.

Feathers in the Windows

2007-12-24T08:34:00.000-08:00

"Standing before Stacy’s large glass windows this morning, I saw that they were gloriously ground by the frost. I never saw such beautiful feather and fir-like frosting. His windows are filled with fancy articles and toys for Christmas and New Year’s presents, but this delicate and graceful outside frosting surpassed them all infinitely. I saw countless feathers with very distinct midribs and fine pinnae. The half of a trunk seemed to rise in each case up along the sash, and these feathers branched off from it all the way, sometimes nearly horizontally. Other crystals looked like pine plumes the size of life. If glass could be ground to look like this, how glorious it would be!" - Henry David Thoreau - Journal, 1857

Happy Holidays Everyone! And I'll leave it to Mr. Lennon to share any other sentiments:

FrequenSea

2007-12-22T10:57:00.000-08:00

This is so incredible: you'll just have to trust me and discover FrequenSea yourselves. Please take 15 minutes and hear what they have to say. I wonder how this compares to David Wolfe's "Ocean's Alive" product, or krill oil. Anybody have any ideas or knowledge in these areas?

Food Not Lawns!

2007-12-22T07:07:00.000-08:00

The Homegrown Revolution!

Urban Homestead

and please, if this sets you aglow, even a little, then visit the website, click Path to Freedom, to get there.

Green Grow The Rushes O!

2007-12-22T05:51:00.000-08:00

I am writing today to inform you (and perhaps share in the inspiration) of this intention. I have been watching some David Jubb videos recently and he was saying that we have harvested 90% of the shade of the planet -- in that it is no longer there.

I found that this went very much in kind with Derrick Jensen talking about the vast Cedar forests that used to shade the Middle East, and even our Old Growth and Redwoods in the Pacific Northwest. We have deforested most of the planet to support our civilization and global expansion. What are the consequences of this, you may ask?

Besides fewer trees to balance the amount of CO2 in the air, it causes our water levels to drop. It causes Iraq and Iranian and Palestinian water shortages and high salt soil. How can you solve the problem? Plant more trees, it will raise the water table again, making viable thousands of acres for growth and sustainability. If you do not think this is possible, check the blog entry on Composting, specifically the last video Greening the Desert for the evidence of this.

There is so much abundance on this planet, but distribution is so faulty and corrupted, it causes so much fear. There is enough of everything for everybody, but we must change our mindsets about our home and our relationships with each other.

This is why I was so happy to find out about The Fruit Tree Planting Foundation, which is a nonprofit charity that describes their mission as one "dedicated to planting edible, fruitful trees and plants to benefit the environment and all its inhabitants. {Their} primary intention is to plant and help others plant a collective total of 18 billion fruit trees across the world (approximately 3 for every person alive) and encourage their growth under organic standards. "

This is just so wonderful. I am so inspired by this and am glad David Wolfe is getting involved; I think we all should. He's the reason I even know about this foundation and you all should definitely check it out. Watch the video on the website, for sure.

Fall is Complete

2007-12-21T16:33:00.000-08:00

I am officially complete with my fall semester and am so very happy about it. I am still, however, waiting to see how I did and equally confused as to what exactly I am supposed to be doing with my free time, now. After Christmas, I'm sure it will sink in that I don't have classes again until the middle of January... and in the meantime I hope to commit myself to new yoga classes and an art-studio class, too.

I am hoping to purchase a vita-mix or be gifted one... and a dehydrator so I can really expand my Sun-Food cuisines. I have owned Raw Food Real World by the lovely folks at Pure Food and Wine in New York, and have been drooling for months. My blender just isn't up to snuff anymore, to make my own nut-milks and it barely gets the job done with cacao smoothies...! So I am looking forward to the holidays, even if I have to get them for myself ;)

I have been devouring the seasonal Clementine's and they've been so lovely! And the past two days I have been out of my juicing vegetables, and Boy! can I tell the difference. I have become particularly fond of the classic cucumber-celery-apple-parsley combo, and then I add lemon some days or ginger, or daikon or bok choy, spinach. So very, very good.

Oh and another thing -- Its the Solstice and I had plans in the mountains at a friend's house, but the afternoon snow in the valley, tonight led to quick freezing and slick roads... an attempt to ascend the Sunshine Canyon came only to me turning around half way up. And a 10-mile/hr crawl in first gear all the way back down, passing cars in ditches and teetering over ravines; let's just say I'm glad I got down in one-piece.. especially since someone backed into my pretty silver little car on Tuesday evening. Whew.

Well, I'm going to the cinema tonight and then I get to get juicing veggies, yay! Hope all of you out there are safe and warm tonight... :)

Endgame, Derrick Jensen & Your Threshold

2007-12-17T12:23:00.000-08:00

This information is at once immobilizing and inspiring: And so I am passing it on and asking everyone to question their own threshold? When, in what circumstances, and where do you -- will you choose to do something? Be present to your own gifts.

The Threshold:

Whatever It Takes:

Pathology of the Personal:

The 3rd Alternative:

Prescriptions for the Holiday Season

2007-12-15T07:32:00.001-08:00

Straight No Chaser A Capella Group Sings "12 Days of Christmas"

Global Juice Feast 2008!

2007-12-14T09:16:00.001-08:00

Thanks to Courtney Pool at Radical Radiance for reminding me to post about this: "The EPIC Global Juice Feast 2008!!" I am also adding my voice to this announcement, to my readers now so you can all start thinking about if you might be interested in joining us!

People from all around the world, including David and Katrina Rainoshek (who will be doing 92 Days) are going to be juicing it up together and transforming their health, lives, and of course, the World!

It will start in March of 2008, right about springtime, which is one of the best times to time to be cleaning your self-house, and a time for new beginnings and new life.

As Courtney writes: "This could be your chance to really take action to that health, body, life and world you've dreamed of, and the support and fellowship of other feasters during this event will be precious. I won't be doing another long juice feast then, but I WILL be joining in on at least the first week and the last week of the Global Juice Feast. You may want to join David and Katrina and other feasters on a full 92 Day Feast, but if you just want to scope it out, feel free to join for part of it, and I'd love for anyone who wants to do something shorter to join me on my shorter feast. It is going to be amazing!"

I'll be doing it as well. So come and join us!

Composting: In Dialog with the "Story of Stuff"

2007-12-14T08:39:00.000-08:00

Home Composting At Home Part 1:

Home Composting At Home Part 2:

Home Composting At Home Part 3:

and *then* to go on to the next step, check out the book Food Not Lawns or Gaia's Garden: Home-Scale Permaculture, Gardening When it Counts: Growing Food in Hard Times and finally, be sure to take a look at The Post-Petroleum Survival Guide & Cookbook.

If you need more than a little imagination to see what such actions are capable of, watch this, and see how we could go about "Greening the Desert."

Taking on the Anti-Earthies, Listen Up Senator Inhofe!

2007-12-14T08:27:00.000-08:00

This guy is said to be a key player in the controversy on global warming -- In that he is one of the "global warming" doesn't exist Poster Boys and "researchers." Any who follow in his stead: listen up! I have read several of his articles and this is what I have to say.

For the record, Inhofe is concentrating on Fossil Fuels, and their emission levels, and he puts this up against a historical presence or absence of automobiles in the world in the past. (no Environmentalist uses this exclusively as the cause of global warming,) He talks about "hockey sticks" and the vascillation between cold and warm "spells" as indicative of the governments inability to make up its mind, when the truth is that irrespective of what direction climate change may go, any large changes to the contrary Will lead to the destruction of life. The danger of Global warming eventually instigating an ice age may be what they were speaking to.

He also does not take into account other ecological damage — the coal mines, the mass deforestation of Ireland and France during the tin age or the French Revolution which burned and chopped down massive swaths of forests to fund their politics. The burning of the African Congo to build railroads. The Industrialized Age began in the years 1830-40, and by 1850 in London — coal was the major fuel source for thousands of people, including ALL their colonies. You know the term London Fog? That's coal smog. And not even a decade later, we experience a "random" warming. These are all HUGE changes in how we went about our energy consumption in our daily lives.

The removal of trees affects the CO2 levels too, Not just cars, further, it may not even have had such an impact if we hadn't heavily deforested the planet which helps regulate and recycle CO2. Inhofe's article fails to take into account the fact that other eco-systems which man destroys affects planetary balance.

How about that Medieval warm period? The Medieval Warm Period of unusually warm weather occurred around 800-1300 AD, during the European Medieval period. Initial research on the MWP and the following Little Ice Age (LIA) was largely done in Europe, where the phenomenon was most obvious and clearly documented. It was initially believed that the temperature changes were global. (as Inhofe protests: global warmth without cars!) However, this view has been questioned; the 2001 IPCC report summarizes this research, saying "…current evidence does not support globally synchronous periods of anomalous cold or warmth over this time frame, and the conventional terms of 'Little Ice Age' and 'Medieval Warm Period' appear to have limited utility in describing trends in hemispheric or global mean temperature changes in past centuries". Yeah, it was warm, in Europe. The Medieval Warm Period partially coincides with the peak in solar activity named the Medieval Maximum (1100–1250). In contrast, the evidence for a global (or at least northern hemisphere) "Little Ice Age" from the 15th to 19th centuries as a period when the Earth was generally cooler than in the mid 20th century has more or less stood the test of time as Paleoclimatic records have become numerous. The idea of a global or hemispheric "Medieval Warm Period" that was warmer than today however, has turned out to be incorrect.

Inhofe talks about 1859 as a warm year and yet fails to tell us that this was the FIRST year where petroleum began being used as a new "improved" resource, this is the same year that Japan went into its high industrialization, burning coal almost exclusively for energy in Kyoto and Tokyo. It is also the year that countries began drilling for Natural gas deposits.... (leaving behind hollow empty bubbles of air, which creates instability in the earth's crust and actually effects the wobble on the earth's axis. It isn't the only contributor by a long-shot but it is one of them.)

Fact is in the 1850's: Coal became more attractive, both because deposits were often found near the new railroad rights of way and because its higher energy content increased the range and load of steam trains. Demand for coal also rose because the railroads were laying thousands of miles of new track and the metals industry needed an economical source of coal to make iron and steel for the rails and spikes. The transportation and industrial sectors in general began to grow rapidly during the latter half of the century, and coal helped fuel their growth.

Petroleum also got its start between 1840 and 1855. By the end of WWI America's appetite for energy, alone, as it industrialized was prodigious, roughly quadrupling between 1880 and 1918. Coal fed much of this growth, in applications and total use alike. Petroleum got major boosts with the discovery of Texas's vast Spindletop Oil Field in 1901 and with the advent of mass-produced automobiles, several million of which had been built by 1918. (Let me repeat, he says 1895 NOT 1995)

In the years after World War II, "Old King Coal" relinquished its place as the premier fuel in the United States. The railroads lost business to trucks that ran on gasoline and diesel fuel, and also began switching to diesel locomotives themselves. Labor troubles and safety standards drove up coal production costs. The coal industry survived, however, mainly because nationwide electrification created new demand for coal among electric utilities despite regional competition from hydroelectric and petroleum-fired generation. Yet Inhofe sits by and snidely comments on how in 1950 politicians were complaining about climate disruptions (just 5 years after the atomic bomb is dropped – he doesn't even take that into consideration).

Most energy produced today in the United States, as in the rest of the industrialized world, comes from fossil fuels —coal, natural gas, crude oil, and natural gas plant liquids. It's not just about cars when it comes to fossil fuel emissions.

All of this affects the planet. Who was created to be as she was by God. The truth is, this is nothing new, it just keeps getting worse.

He also talks about the ice shelf in the arctic and Canada as overloading with ice — but you can look at the satellite photos of Rhode island sized ice shelves breaking away from Greenland. This is due to a lake of warm water that has melted on top of a section of ice, which just like in your soda, will fracture and shrink the mass, whether or not their is more ice now than in the past, the rate at which the ice is freezing and thawing to create these fractures is in no way normal. And that's what's important. Yeah, we're losing ice in one small spot and gaining ice in places where it was scarce before. Glaciers are advancing in South America, he says, and this doesn't seem like a problem, if ice melts in one place and freezes densely in another, it can alter the tilt of the planet.

He says the government in 1930 took a break from the ice age spiel and went into warmth warnings, why would that be? 1930 was another huge coal year. Not for the US but for Russia which achieved under Stalin in 1927, its own industrial revolution surge. And Russian population at the time was huge. Meanwhile, by the end of 1929 in the US, crop failures were rampant, and by 33 we were deep into the dust bowl. Caused by drought, and wind and excessive heat. Inhofe quotes that the NYT in 1933 (of all years) reports a 25 year high in temperature, the most since 1776. I find that interesting. Of course they'd be talking about heat! Half the population of the lower Midwest states became migrant workers in CA's San Joaquin valley (Grapes of Wrath? Steinbeck?)

Furthermore, his tone is incredulous, unscientific and smacks of someone who jabs at a truth without doing the proper research, he alludes to studies, but never gives documented data. At least the UN ( a panel of 113 Countries) speaks about their position without being derisive.

And Senator Inhofe is the chair of the Environment and Public Works Committee, and part of a good 40 other companies and committees, incl. the Annapolis Center for Science-Based Public Policy all of which find that their funding is provided in more than a large part by ExxonMobil, the world's largest oil company. Wouldn't you consider this to be a conflict of interests? If you looked him up on the web there are countless articles on him being "bought" by the oil companies to provide the answers that would support their endeavors.

Inhofe has a history of opposing environmental groups and global warming initiatives. There are several transcripts of Inhofe speeches on the Senate floor regarding this offered a documents by his official website:

* July 28, 2003, "The Science of Climate Change"
* October 4, 2004, "Partisan Environmental Groups"
* January 4, 2005, "Climate Change Update"
* April 8, 2005, "First Four Pillars Speech"

On April 28, 2004, Inhofe was honored for his "work in promoting science-based public policy" [6] by the Annapolis Center for Science-Based Public Policy, a think tank that disputes the scientific consensus on the causes and magnitude of global warming. (The think tank has received $658,575 from ExxonMobil since 1998).

So do I find him to be an unbiased representative of the other side? Not at all. I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, he has been paid more than half a million dollars towards his committees and think tanks by the fossil fuel corporate giants. Anybody receiving that much money for campaign or research is obligated to some degree to their backers. Just like Presidents and their campaign fund lobbyists.

Annie Jubb & Enzymes

2007-12-14T08:08:00.000-08:00

I guess Daryl Hannah had a show??
This episode features Annie Jubb, Matt Amsden, among others and is a great intro to the benefits of raw nutrition.

Wake Up, It's Friday Morning!

2007-12-14T07:17:00.000-08:00

Today is the last day of the semester! Wahooo! I turned in a 17-page paper yesterday and have another due on Tuesday and then I am free for a month! I can't wait -- I have so many plans for myself -- one of which is beginning classes at Richard Freeman's "Yoga Workshop." Very excited about that.

Today is also my last day of teaching, which is sort of bittersweet really. I'm glad to not have to read ahead and I won't have to listen to students complain about failing when they're not even coming to class -- but yet, there's always something about the look on a student's face when they've discovered something about themselves that they didn't know was there... very very gratifying to see.

Anyway, I made the most yummy juice this morning (a bit of a tropical twist in the snow, you might say)

1 mango
1/2 cup fresh pineapple
5 stalks celery
1/2 cucumber

very very nice. Although the mango juice likes to stick together somewhat, even in the glass so you have these little suspended gold globs -- the taste is creamy and sweet.

I am also posting (mainly) because I wanted to post this picture, because its about consciousness and therefore ultimately cool.

Have a happy Friday y'all! See you on the flip side!

The Transformation

2007-12-12T08:14:00.000-08:00

Well, this is something that we all need to look at: The Story of Stuff. This is something that I am getting better at, but still vastly guilty of, and these are always good things to look at to remind us exactly what level of responsibility are we willing to take for our lives. It seems these days, not much. Which is sad; we have become so complacent and so willing to give away our power. Look at your life, take a deep breath, face the music and then find a new way of relating to yourself, your choices and what you actually want out of life.

Here are some other helpful things to look at today.

1. Watch The Story of Stuff
2. Check out your Ecological Footprint
3. Look At all your options
4. Empower Yourself

5. Know that you're never alone

6. Come back and tell us about what you have discovered about yourself; we're all in this together. So let's inspire each other, give back, sound the trumpets, and take the plunge... Even if it's scary, even if it's uncomfortable, there is so much we are choosing to be blind to, what else are we sacrificing in the meantime? Love, happiness, a sense of purpose?

7. Have Faith

“When you have come to the edge Of all light that you know And are about to drop off into the darkness Of the unknown, Faith is knowing One of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly” -- patrick overton

“To rid ourselves of our shadows - who we are - we must step into either total light or total darkness” -- Jeremy Preston

Raw Insipration

2007-12-11T11:12:00.001-08:00

"I don't understand why asking people to eat a well-balanced vegetarian diet is considered drastic, while it is medically conservative to cut people open and put them on cholesterol- lowering drugs for the rest of their lives."  
- Dean Ornish, MD

The Myth of Grain

2007-12-11T08:52:00.000-08:00

I have been experiencing some wonderful realizations. At least, they seem wonderful to me. I have been keeping an "eating journal" since Thanksgiving, and I know that doesn't seem like a long time, but I was adding breakfast this morning and went to look back over the list and the notes I made about certain foods and how I felt and I did not realize truly, how much raw I have been eating everyday. And how much better I felt on those days versus those that included a heavier cooked meal.

I actually don't know where to begin - I feel like I am having all these insights and increased brain function and cannot unravel the understanding fast enough, or relate it in such a way as it is "digestible", mentally speaking of course.

So here I have a picture of Demeter welcoming back her daughter Persephone from the underworld. And those of you have any interest or pursued any study into spiritual sciences, have encountered the Mystery Schools (Essene, Coptic, Rosicrucian, Theosophy, Gnosticism, Anthroposophy, The Elysian Mysteries, Mystical Christianity, Alchemy, Kabbalah, Hermeticism, the Grail Legends and, finally the Greek Mythologies) the endless symbolic natures of the tales told to initiates. I feel like I have encountered an understanding of the Persephone myth: It explains so much about, well everything.

When you read about the female/male attributes of the human soul, you inevitably arrive at the space in time when we humans stumbled and took a "fall" -- into what you may ask? It's in all the sacred scriptures: into materiality. There have been several books written about the nature of the Masculine influence holding a more powerful grip over the human psyche in relationship to this fall, which is what is meant to be understood when G-d tells Eve that she will be subservient to Adam. The loss of the feminine was a detriment to our evolution as spiritual beings but it was to protect us as well. Try and find books like Gnosis and the Law or the Keys of Enoch to open up deeper understandings of such things (it will take way too long for me to summarize them here with any respect to their content).

Anyway, this fall into materiality, we see in the Bible, allows the concept of death to occur in the human sphere. Now think back to Eden, and Genesis 1:29 : "And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat." The abundance of growth on the earth -- the continual flowering of fruit and edible plants was dependent on our innocence and communal relationship with the divine.

Now reconsider the myth of Persephone: whose mother is Demeter (later to be considered the goddess of grain). We find that Persephone was the daughter of Zeus or the God-Head in the Greek tradition. She is a young maiden playing amongst the flowers, a beautiful child, and so gains the attention of Hades, who abducts her and drags her into the underworld, the realm of death and promises her a number of things. How is this any different than the fall? Philosophically speaking? A dark seducer who ruled the underworld -- a beautiful maiden who falls below? She eats what she was forbidden to?

This loss of the feminine and in the case of Demeter, her child sends her into a shocked and deep despair. All of a sudden, nothing will grow on the earth, as Mother Demeter is out seeking for her lost child.

Once she finds Persephone, now having known good and evil -- the symbol of the pomegranate, like the apple, is itself meant to denote sexual knowing, she has trespassed the realm of child like communal relationships and wonder, and has become realized in the capacity of her material body, a sensual body: that is, composed and informed by the senses. And so Demeter cannot take her back as is. So she strikes a deal, and will have access to her daughter for 6 (+/- depending on the particular translation) months of the year.

Because of this, Demeter goes into mourning every winter, and knowing this, we are told that she descends into the realm of men to teach them agriculture so they may survive her mourning periods. In other words, I am realizing what raw food is doing to my communal consciousness. What I think about, what I do, what I eat, how I feel is all being affected. Demeter made a concession. This was not how things were meant to go. Just as the Bible relates that G-d did not intend for us to fall into materiality and made "arrangements" to ensure our survival until help could come our way. Whether you call it Christ or Sophia or the Mother, we are being given access to what will restore our consciousness. Why would such fall stories include, in all cases, food? Yes there is sexuality there too -- but even that can be reduced to a idea of self-propagating thought and creating one's reality. We are what we eat. The way I have been eating as of late, or drinking as is often the case with green juices makes me feel different. I think and feel differently. It's amazing. I am so grateful.

Outside, it has been snowing for almost 12 hours and I don't feel cold at all...

A Winter Walk by Henry David Thoreau

2007-12-09T11:12:00.001-08:00

The essay first appeared in The Dial of October 1843.
It was reprinted in the first posthumous volume of Thoreau's works,
Excursions (edited by Sophia Thoreau and Ellery Channing), in 1863.

A Winter Walk by Henry David Thoreau

The wind has gently murmured through the blinds, or puffed with feathery softness against the windows, and occasionally sighed like a summer zephyr lifting the leaves along, the livelong night. The meadow mouse has slept in his snug gallery in the sod, the owl has sat in a hollow tree in the depth of the swamp, the rabbit, the squirrel, and the fox have all been housed. The watch-dog has lain quiet on the hearth, and the cattle have stood silent in their stalls. The earth itself has slept, as it were its first, not its last sleep, save when some street-sign or wood-house door has faintly creaked upon its hinge, cheering forlorn nature at her midnight work,—the only sound awake 'twixt Venus and Mars,—advertising us of a remote inward warmth, a divine cheer and fellowship, where gods are met together, but where it is very bleak for men to stand. But while the earth has slumbered, all the air has been alive with feathery flakes descending, as if some northern Ceres reigned, showering her silvery grain over all the fields.

We sleep, and at length awake to the still reality of a winter morning. The snow lies warm as cotton or down upon the window-sill; the broadened sash and frosted panes admit a dim and private light, which enhances the snug cheer within. The stillness of the morning is impressive. The floor creaks under our feet as we move toward the window to look abroad through some clear space over the fields. We see the roofs stand under their snow burden. From the eaves and fences hang stalactites of snow, and in the yard stand stalagmites covering some concealed core. The trees and shrubs rear white arms to the sky on every side; and where were walls and fences, we see fantastic forms stretching in frolic gambols across the dusky landscape, as if Nature had strewn her fresh designs over the fields by night as models for man's art.

Silently we unlatch the door, letting the drift fall in, and step abroad to face the cutting air. Already the stars have lost some of their sparkle, and a dull, leaden mist skirts the horizon. A lurid brazen light in the east proclaims the approach of day, while the western landscape is dim and spectral still, and clothed in a sombre Tartarean light, like the shadowy realms. They are Infernal sounds only that you hear,—the crowing of cocks, the barking of dogs, the chopping of wood, the lowing of kine, all seem to come from Pluto's barnyard and beyond the Styx,—not for any melancholy they suggest, but their twilight bustle is too solemn and mysterious for earth. The recent tracks of the fox or otter, in the yard, remind us that each hour of the night is crowded with events, and the primeval nature is still working and making tracks in the snow. Opening the gate, we tread briskly along the lone country road, crunching the dry and crisped snow under our feet, or aroused by the sharp, clear creak of the wood-shed, just starting for the distant market, from the early farmer's door, where it has lain the summer long, dreaming amid the chips and stubble; while far through the drifts and powdered windows we see the farmer's early candle, like a paled star, emitting a lonely beam, as if some severe virtue were at its matins there. And one by one the smokes begin to ascend from the chimneys amid the trees and snows.

The sluggish smoke curls up from some deep dell.
The stiffened air exploring in the dawn,
And making slow acquaintance with the day
Delaying now upon its heavenward course,
In wreathed loiterings dallying with itself,
With as uncertain purpose and slow deed
As its half-wakened master by the hearth,
Whose mind still slumbering and sluggish thoughts
Have not yet swept into the onward current
Of the new day;—and now it streams afar,
The while the chopper goes with step direct,
And mind intent to swing the early axe.
First in the dusky dawn he sends abroad
His early scout, his emissary, smoke,
The earliest, latest pilgrim from the roof,
To feel the frosty air, inform the day;
And while he crouches still beside the hearth,
Nor musters courage to unbar the door,
It has gone down the glen with the light wind,
And o'er the plain unfurled its venturous wreath,
Draped the tree-tops, loitered upon the hill,
And warmed the pinions of the early bird;
And now, perchance, high in the crispy air,
Has caught sight of the day o'er the earth's edge,
And greets its master's eye at his low door,
As some refulgent cloud in the upper sky.

We hear the sound of wood-chopping at the farmers' doors, far over the frozen earth, the baying of the house-dog, and the distant clarion of the cock,—though the thin and frosty air conveys only the finer particles of sound to our ears, with short and sweet vibrations, as the waves subside soonest on the purest and lightest liquids, in which gross substances sink to the bottom. They come clear and bell-like, and from a greater distance in the horizon, as if there were fewer impediments than in summer to make them faint and ragged. The ground is sonorous, like seasoned wood, and even the ordinary rural sounds are melodious, and the jingling of the ice on the trees is sweet and liquid. There is the least possible moisture in the atmosphere, all being dried up or congealed, and it is of such extreme tenuity and elasticity that it becomes a source of delight. The withdrawn and tense sky seems groined like the aisles of a cathedral, and the polished air sparkles as if there were crystals of ice floating in it. As they who have resided in Greenland tell us that when it freezes "the sea smokes like burning turf-land, and a fog or mist arises, called frost-smoke," which "cutting smoke frequently raises blisters on the face and hands, and is very pernicious to the health." But this pure, stinging cold is an elixir to the lungs, and not so much a frozen mist as a crystallized midsummer haze, refined and purified by cold.

The sun at length rises through the distant woods, as if with the faint clashing, swinging sound of cymbals, melting the air with his beams, and with such rapid steps the morning travels, that already his rays are gilding the distant western mountains. Meanwhile we step hastily along through the powdery snow, warmed by an inward heat, enjoying an Indian summer still, in the increased glow of thought and feeling. Probably if our lives were more conformed to nature, we should not need to defend ourselves against her heats and colds, but find her our constant nurse and friend, as do plants and quadrupeds. If our bodies were fed with pure and simple elements, and not with a stimulating and heating diet, they would afford no more pasture for cold than a leafless twig, but thrive like the trees, which find even winter genial to their expansion.

The wonderful purity of nature at this season is a most pleasing fact. Every decayed stump and moss-grown stone and rail, and the dead leaves of autumn, are concealed by a clean napkin of snow. In the bare fields and tinkling woods, see what virtue survives. In the coldest and bleakest places, the warmest charities still maintain a foothold. A cold and searching wind drives away all contagion, and nothing can withstand it but what has a virtue in it, and accordingly, whatever we meet with in cold and bleak places, as the tops of mountains, we respect for a sort of sturdy innocence, a Puritan toughness. All things beside seem to be called in for shelter, and what stays out must be part of the original frame of the universe, and of such valor as God himself. It is invigorating to breathe the cleansed air. Its greater fineness and purity are visible to the eye, and we would fain stay out long and late, that the gales may sigh through us, too, as through the leafless trees, and fit us for the winter,—as if we hoped so to borrow some pure and steadfast virtue, which will stead us in all seasons.

There is a slumbering subterranean fire in nature which never goes out, and which no cold can chill. It finally melts the great snow, and in January or July is only buried under a thicker or thinner covering. In the coldest day it flows somewhere, and the snow melts around every tree. This field of winter rye, which sprouted late in the fall, and now speedily dissolves the snow, is where the fire is very thinly covered. We feel warmed by it. In the winter, warmth stands for all virtue, and we resort in thought to a trickling rill, with its bare stones shining in the sun, and to warm springs in the woods, with as much eagerness as rabbits and robins. The steam which rises from swamps and pools is as dear and domestic as that of our own kettle. What fire could ever equal the sunshine of a winter's day, when the meadow mice come out by the wall-sides, and the chickadee lisps in the defiles of the wood? The warmth comes directly from the sun, and is not radiated from the earth, as in summer; and when we feel his beams on our backs as we are treading some snowy dell, we are grateful as for a special kindness, and bless the sun which has followed us into that by-place.

This subterranean fire has its altar in each man's breast; for in the coldest day, and on the bleakest hill, the traveler cherishes a warmer fire within the folds of his cloak than is kindled on any hearth. A healthy man, indeed, is the complement of the seasons, and in winter, summer is in his heart. There is the south. Thither have all birds and insects migrated, and around the warm springs in his breast are gathered the robin and the lark.

At length, having reached the edge of the woods, and shut out the gadding town, we enter within their covert as we go under the roof of a cottage, and cross its threshold, all ceiled and banked up with snow. They are glad and warm still, and as genial and cheery in winter as in summer. As we stand in the midst of the pines in the flickering and checkered light which straggles but little way into their maze, we wonder if the towns have ever heard their simple story. It seems to us that no traveler has ever explored them, and notwithstanding the wonders which science is elsewhere revealing every day, who would not like to hear their annals? Our humble villages in the plain are their contribution. We borrow from the forest the boards which shelter and the sticks which warm us. How important is their evergreen to the winter, that portion of the summer which does not fade, the permanent year, the unwithered grass! Thus simply, and with little expense of altitude, is the surface of the earth diversified. What would human life be without forests, those natural cities? From the tops of mountains they appear like smooth-shaven lawns, yet whither shall we walk but in this taller grass?

In this glade covered with bushes of a year's growth, see how the silvery dust lies on every seared leaf and twig, deposited in such infinite and luxurious forms as by their very variety atone for the absence of color. Observe the tiny tracks of mice around every stem, and the triangular tracks of the rabbit. A pure elastic heaven hangs over all, as if the impurities of the summer sky, refined and shrunk by the chaste winter's cold, had been winnowed from the heavens upon the earth.

Nature confounds her summer distinctions at this season. The heavens seem to be nearer the earth. The elements are less reserved and distinct. Water turns to ice, rain to snow. The day is but a Scandinavian night. The winter is an arctic summer.

How much more living is the life that is in nature, the furred life which still survives the stinging nights, and, from amidst fields and woods covered with frost and snow, sees the sun rise

"The foodless wilds
Pour forth their brown inhabitants."

The gray squirrel and rabbit are brisk and playful in the remote glens, even on the morning of the cold Friday. Here is our Lapland and Labrador, and for our Esquimaux and Knistenaux, Dog-ribbed Indians, Novazemblaites, and Spitzbergeners, are there not the ice-cutter and woodchopper, the fox, muskrat, and mink?

Still, in the midst of the arctic day, we may trace the summer to its retreats, and sympathize with some contemporary life. Stretched over the brooks, in the midst of the frost-bound meadows, we may observe the submarine cottages of the caddis-worms, the larvæ of the Plicipennes; their small cylindrical cases built around themselves, composed of flags, sticks, grass, and withered leaves, shells, and pebbles, in form and color like the wrecks which strew the bottom,—now drifting along over the pebbly bottom, now whirling in tiny eddies and clashing down steep falls, or sweeping rapidly along with the current, or else swaying to and fro at the end of some grass-blade or root. Anon they will leave their sunken habitations, and, crawling up the stems of plants, or to the surface, like gnats, as perfect insects henceforth, flutter over the surface of the water, or sacrifice their short lives in the flame of our candles at evening. Down yonder little glen the shrubs are drooping under their burden, and the red elderberries contrast with the white ground. Here are the marks of a myriad feet which have already been abroad. The sun rises as proudly over such a glen as over the valley of the Seine or the Tiber, and it seems the residence of a pure and self-subsistent valor, such as they never witnessed,—which never knew defeat nor fear. Here reign the simplicity and purity of a primitive age, and a health and hope far remote from towns and cities. Standing quite alone, far in the forest, while the wind is shaking down snow from the trees, and leaving the only human tracks behind us, we find our reflections of a richer variety than the life of cities. The chickadee and nuthatch are more inspiring society than statesmen and philosophers, and we shall return to these last as to more vulgar companions. In this lonely glen, with its brook draining the slopes, its creased ice and crystals of all hues, where the spruces and hemlocks stand up on either side, and the rush and sere wild oats in the rivulet itself, our lives are more serene and worthy to contemplate.

As the day advances, the heat of the sun is reflected by the hillsides, and we hear a faint but sweet music, where flows the rill released from its fetters, and the icicles are melting on the trees; and the nuthatch and partridge are heard and seen. The south wind melts the snow at noon, and the bare ground appears with its withered grass and leaves, and we are invigorated by the perfume which exhales from it, as by the scent of strong meats.

Let us go into this deserted woodman's hut, and see how he has passed the long winter nights and the short and stormy days. For here man has lived under this south hillside, and it seems a civilized and public spot. We have such associations as when the traveler stands by the ruins of Palmyra or Hecatompolis. Singing birds and flowers perchance have begun to appear here, for flowers as well as weeds follow in the footsteps of man. These hemlocks whispered over his head, these hickory logs were his fuel, and these pitch pine roots kindled his fire; yonder fuming rill in the hollow, whose thin and airy vapor still ascends as busily as ever, though he is far off now, was his well. These hemlock boughs, and the straw upon this raised platform, were his bed, and this broken dish held his drink. But he has not been here this season, for the ph--bes built their nest upon this shelf last summer. I find some embers left as if he had but just gone out, where he baked his pot of beans; and while at evening he smoked his pipe, whose stemless bowl lies in the ashes, chatted with his only companion, if perchance he had any, about the depth of the snow on the morrow, already falling fast and thick without, or disputed whether the last sound was the screech of an owl, or the creak of a bough, or imagination only; and through his broad chimney-throat, in the late winter evening, ere he stretched himself upon the straw, he looked up to learn the progress of the storm, and, seeing the bright stars of Cassiopeia's Chair shining brightly down upon him, fell contentedly asleep.

See how many traces from which we may learn the chopper's history! From this stump we may guess the sharpness of his axe, and from the slope of the stroke, on which side he stood, and whether he cut down the tree without going round it or changing hands; and, from the flexure of the splinters, we may know which way it fell. This one chip contains inscribed on it the whole history of the woodchopper and of the world. On this scrap of paper, which held his sugar or salt, perchance, or was the wadding of his gun, sitting on a log in the forest, with what interest we read the tattle of cities, of those larger huts, empty and to let, like this, in High Streets and Broadways. The eaves are dripping on the south side of this simple roof, while the titmouse lisps in the pine and the genial warmth of the sun around the door is somewhat kind and human.

After two seasons, this rude dwelling does not deform the scene. Already the birds resort to it, to build their nests, and you may track to its door the feet of many quadrupeds. Thus, for a long time, nature overlooks the encroachment and profanity of man. The wood still cheerfully and unsuspiciously echoes the strokes of the axe that fells it, and while they are few and seldom, they enhance its wildness, and all the elements strive to naturalize the sound.

Now our path begins to ascend gradually to the top of this high hill, from whose precipitous south side we can look over the broad country of forest and field and river, to the distant snowy mountains. See yonder thin column of smoke curling up through the woods from some invisible farmhouse, the standard raised over some rural homestead. There must be a warmer and more genial spot there below, as where we detect the vapor from a spring forming a cloud above the trees. What fine relations are established between the traveler who discovers this airy column from some eminence in the forest and him who sits below! Up goes the smoke as silently and naturally as the vapor exhales from the leaves, and as busy disposing itself in wreaths as the housewife on the hearth below. It is a hieroglyphic of man's life, and suggests more intimate and important things than the boiling of a pot. Where its fine column rises above the forest, like an ensign, some human life has planted itself,—and such is the beginning of Rome, the establishment of the arts, and the foundation of empires, whether on the prairies of America or the steppes of Asia.

And now we descend again, to the brink of this woodland lake, which lies in a hollow of the hills, as if it were their expressed juice, and that of the leaves which are annually steeped in it. Without outlet or inlet to the eye, it has still its history, in the lapse of its waves, in the rounded pebbles on its shore, and in the pines which grow down to its brink. It has not been idle, though sedentary, but, like Abu Musa, teaches that "sitting still at home is the heavenly way; the going out is the way of the world." Yet in its evaporation it travels as far as any. In summer it is the earth's liquid eye, a mirror in the breast of nature. The sins of the wood are washed out in it. See how the woods form an amphitheatre about it, and it is an arena for all the genialness of nature. All trees direct the traveler to its brink, all paths seek it out, birds fly to it, quadrupeds flee to it, and the very ground inclines toward it. It is nature's saloon, where she has sat down to her toilet. Consider her silent economy and tidiness; how the sun comes with his evaporation to sweep the dust from its surface each morning, and a fresh surface is constantly welling up; and annually, after whatever impurities have accumulated herein, its liquid transparency appears again in the spring. In summer a hushed music seems to sweep across its surface. But now a plain sheet of snow conceals it from our eyes, except where the wind has swept the ice bare, and the sere leaves are gliding from side to side, tacking and veering on their tiny voyages. Here is one just keeled up against a pebble on shore, a dry beech leaf, rocking still, as if it would start again. A skillful engineer, methinks, might project its course since it fell from the parent stem. Here are all the elements for such a calculation. Its present position, the direction of the wind, the level of the pond, and how much more is given. In its scarred edges and veins is its log rolled up.

We fancy ourselves in the interior of a larger house. The surface of the pond is our deal table or sanded floor, and the woods rise abruptly from its edge, like the walls of a cottage. The lines set to catch pickerel through the ice look like a larger culinary preparation, and the men stand about on the white ground like pieces of forest furniture. The actions of these men, at the distance of half a mile over the ice and snow, impress us as when we read the exploits of Alexander in history. They seem not unworthy of the scenery, and as momentous as the conquest of kingdoms.

Again we have wandered through the arches of the wood, until from its skirts we hear the distant booming of ice from yonder bay of the river, as if it were moved by some other and subtler tide than oceans know. To me it has a strange sound of home, thrilling as the voice of one's distant and noble kindred. A mild summer sun shines over forest and lake, and though there is but one green leaf for many rods, yet nature enjoys a serene health. Every sound is fraught with the same mysterious assurance of health, as well now the creaking of the boughs in January, as the soft sough of the wind in July.

When Winter fringes every bough
With his fantastic wreath,
And puts the seal of silence now
Upon the leaves beneath;

When every stream in its penthouse
Goes gurgling on its way,
And in his gallery the mouse
Nibbleth the meadow bay;

Methinks the summer still is nigh,
And lurketh underneath,
As that same meadow mouse doth lie
Snug in that last year's heath.

And if perchance the chickadee
Lisp a faint note anon,
The snow is summer's canopy,
Which she herself put on.

Fair blossoms deck the cheerful trees,
And dazzling fruits depend;
The north wind sighs a summer breeze,
The nipping frosts to fend,

Bringing glad tidings unto me,
The while I stand all ear,
Of a serene eternity,
Which need not winter fear.

Out on the silent pond straightway
The restless ice doth crack,
And pond sprites merry gambols play
Amid the deafening rack.

Eager I hasten to the vale,
As if I heard brave news,
How nature held high festival,
Which it were hard to lose.

I gambol with my neighbor ice,
And sympathizing quake,
As each new crack darts in a trice
Across the gladsome lake.

One with the cricket in the ground,
And fagot on the hearth,
Resounds the rare domestic sound
Along the forest path.

Before night we will take a journey on skates along the course of this meandering river, as full of novelty to one who sits by the cottage fire all the winter's day, as if it were over the polar ice, with Captain Parry or Franklin; following the winding of the stream, now flowing amid hills, now spreading out into fair meadows, and forming a myriad coves and bays where the pine and hemlock overarch. The river flows in the rear of the towns, and we see all things from a new and wilder side. The fields and gardens come down to it with a frankness, and freedom from pretension, which they do not wear on the highway. It is the outside and edge of the earth. Our eyes are not offended by violent contrasts. The last rail of the farmer's fence is some swaying willow bough, which still preserves its freshness, and here at length all fences stop, and we no longer cross any road. We may go far up within the country now by the most retired and level road, never climbing a hill, but by broad levels ascending to the upland meadows. It is a beautiful illustration of the law of obedience, the flow of a river; the path for a sick man, a highway down which an acorn cup may float secure with its freight. Its slight occasional falls, whose precipices would not diversify the landscape, are celebrated by mist and spray, and attract the traveler from far and near. From the remote interior, its current conducts him by broad and easy steps, or by one gentler inclined plane, to the sea. Thus by an early and constant yielding to the inequalities of the ground it secures itself the easiest passage.

No domain of nature is quite closed to man at all times, and now we draw near to the empire of the fishes. Our feet glide swiftly over unfathomed depths, where in summer our line tempted the pout and perch, and where the stately pickerel lurked in the long corridors formed by the bulrushes. The deep, impenetrable marsh, where the heron waded and bittern squatted, is made pervious to our swift shoes, as if a thousand railroads had been made into it. With one impulse we are carried to the cabin of the muskrat, that earliest settler, and see him dart away under the transparent ice, like a furred fish, to his hole in the bank; and we glide rapidly over meadows where lately "the mower whet his scythe," through beds of frozen cranberries mixed with meadow-grass. We skate near to where the blackbird, the pewee, and the kingbird hung their nests over the water, and the hornets builded from the maple in the swamp. How many gay warblers, following the sun, have radiated from this nest of silver birch and thistle-down! On the swamp's outer edge was hung the supermarine village, where no foot penetrated. In this hollow tree the wood duck reared her brood, and slid away each day to forage in yonder fen.

In winter, nature is a cabinet of curiosities, full of dried specimens, in their natural order and position. The meadows and forests are a hortus siccus. The leaves and grasses stand perfectly pressed by the air without screw or gum, and the birds' nests are not hung on an artificial twig, but where they builded them. We go about dry-shod to inspect the summer's work in the rank swamp, and see what a growth have got the alders, the willows, and the maples; testifying to how many warm suns, and fertilizing dews and showers. See what strides their boughs took in the luxuriant summer,—and anon these dormant buds will carry them onward and upward another span into the heavens.

Occasionally we wade through fields of snow, under whose depths the river is lost for many rods, to appear again to the right or left, where we least expected; still holding on its way underneath, with a faint, stertorous, rumbling sound, as if, like the bear and marmot, it too had hibernated, and we had followed its faint summer trail to where it earthed itself in snow and ice. At first we should have thought that rivers would be empty and dry in midwinter, or else frozen solid till the spring thawed them; but their volume is not diminished even, for only a superficial cold bridges their surfaces. The thousand springs which feed the lakes and streams are flowing still. The issues of a few surface springs only are closed, and they go to swell the deep reservoirs. Nature's wells are below the frost. The summer brooks are not filled with snow-water, nor does the mower quench his thirst with that alone. The streams are swollen when the snow melts in the spring, because nature's work has been delayed, the water being turned into ice and snow, whose particles are less smooth and round, and do not find their level so soon.

Far over the ice, between the hemlock woods and snow-clad hills, stands the pickerel-fisher, his lines set in some retired cove, like a Finlander, with his arms thrust into the pouches of his dreadnaught; with dull, snowy, fishy thoughts, himself a finless fish, separated a few inches from his race; dumb, erect, and made to be enveloped in clouds and snows, like the pines on shore. In these wild scenes, men stand about in the scenery, or move deliberately and heavily, having sacrificed the sprightliness and vivacity of towns to the dumb sobriety of nature. He does not make the scenery less wild, more than the jays and muskrats, but stands there as a part of it, as the natives are represented in the voyages of early navigators, at Nootka Sound, and on the Northwest coast, with their furs about them, before they were tempted to loquacity by a scrap of iron. He belongs to the natural family of man, and is planted deeper in nature and has more root than the inhabitants of towns. Go to him, ask what luck, and you will learn that he too is a worshiper of the unseen. Hear with what sincere deference and waving gesture in his tone he speaks of the lake pickerel, which he has never seen, his primitive and ideal race of pickerel. He is connected with the shore still, as by a fish-line, and yet remembers the season when he took fish through the ice on the pond, while the peas were up in his garden at home.

But now, while we have loitered, the clouds have gathered again, and a few straggling snowflakes are beginning to descend. Faster and faster they fall, shutting out the distant objects from sight. The snow falls on every wood and field, and no crevice is forgotten; by the river and the pond, on the hill and in the valley. Quadrupeds are confined to their coverts and the birds sit upon their perches this peaceful hour. There is not so much sound as in fair weather, but silently and gradually every slope, and the gray walls and fences, and the polished ice, and the sere leaves, which were not buried before, are concealed, and the tracks of men and beasts are lost. With so little effort does nature reassert her rule and blot out the traces of men. Hear how Homer has described the same: "The snowflakes fall thick and fast on a winter's day. The winds are lulled, and the snow falls incessant, covering the tops of the mountains, and the hills, and the plains where the lotus-tree grows, and the cultivated fields, and they are falling by the inlets and shores of the foaming sea, but are silently dissolved by the waves." The snow levels all things, and infolds them deeper in the bosom of nature, as, in the slow summer, vegetation creeps up to the entablature of the temple, and the turrets of the castle, and helps her to prevail over art.

The surly night-wind rustles through the wood, and warns us to retrace our steps, while the sun goes down behind the thickening storm, and birds seek their roosts, and cattle their stalls.

"Drooping the lab'rer ox
Stands covered o'er with snow, and now demands
The fruit of all his toil."

Though winter is represented in the almanac as an old man, facing the wind and sleet, and drawing his cloak about him, we rather think of him as a merry woodchopper, and warm-blooded youth, as blithe as summer. The unexplored grandeur of the storm keeps up the spirits of the traveler. It does not trifle with us, but has a sweet earnestness. In winter we lead a more inward life. Our hearts are warm and cheery, like cottages under drifts, whose windows and doors are half concealed, but from whose chimneys the smoke cheerfully ascends. The imprisoning drifts increase the sense of comfort which the house affords, and in the coldest days we are content to sit over the hearth and see the sky through the chimney-top, enjoying the quiet and serene life that may be had in a warm corner by the chimney-side, or feeling our pulse by listening to the low of cattle in the street, or the sound of the flail in distant barns all the long afternoon. No doubt a skillful physician could determine our health by observing how these simple and natural sounds affected us. We enjoy now, not an Oriental, but a Boreal leisure, around warm stoves and fireplaces, and watch the shadow of motes in the sunbeams.

Sometimes our fate grows too homely and familiarly serious ever to be cruel. Consider how for three months the human destiny is wrapped in furs. The good Hebrew Revelation takes no cognizance of all this cheerful snow. Is there no religion for the temperate and frigid zones? We know of no scripture which records the pure benignity of the gods on a New England winter night. Their praises have never been sung, only their wrath deprecated. The best scripture, after all, records but a meagre faith. Its saints live reserved and austere. Let a brave, devout man spend the year in the woods of Maine or Labrador, and see if the Hebrew Scriptures speak adequately to his condition and experience, from the setting in of winter to the breaking up of the ice.

Now commences the long winter evening around the farmer's hearth, when the thoughts of the indwellers travel far abroad, and men are by nature and necessity charitable and liberal to all creatures. Now is the happy resistance to cold, when the farmer reaps his reward, and thinks of his preparedness for winter, and, through the glittering panes, sees with equanimity "the mansion of the northern bear," for now the storm is over,—

"The full ethereal round,
Infinite worlds disclosing to the view,
Shines out intensely keen; and all one cope
Of starry glitter glows from pole to pole."

Had to Share

2007-12-07T08:30:00.000-08:00

This may sound strange, but I just made the most yummy snack!

I used sprouted grain tortillas by Ezekiel, and inside them I spread raw Tahini (maybe 2 tsp) and topped that with guacamole (red onion, tomato, lime, cilantro, garlic), then a drizzle of agave, a pinch of pink Himalayan and a couple romaine leaves for crunch: so good, I had to share.

The sesame tahini is creamy and nutty and then the guac is kinda spicy and oozes in lovely ways, the salt brings out flavor, the agave for some sweetness -- this is the kind of thing that keeps me going all day. It feels so lovely and my body doesn't freak out or go into sugar-shock, the way wheat and hybrid grains tend to wear on me.

It's snowing in Colorado this morning. I love it -- it makes the whole world stand still, sit tight, relax, be silent, even for a moment: the universe seems to whisper in a hush.

I hope wherever you are today is lovely and amazing

The Good Stuff

2007-12-06T05:51:00.000-08:00

On the other hand, I have been turning myself into a chocolateer-superhero. And I can't recommend it more highly! I have been getting into the living foods method of nutrition for a bit of time now, and the more I add, the more I understand how nothing else tastes as good as the real thing. Food. The real stuff, the good stuff. Soggy cardboard is quickly becoming a thing of the past.

I have been buying cacao for a year and I put it in smoothies, but I had found them somewhat bitter in their "alone" state -- not unpleasantly so, but then again I always did like dark chocolate -- but on a cue from Mr. David Wolfe himself, I mixed a few nibs with agave and... WOW! I mean, as in : incredible -- my brain centers lit up -- I mean, I could see better, taste more, hear better... I am not kidding you, that sucker is one powerful little nut, and it tasted wonderfully yummy, and why would you want to eat anything else?

So, for snacks, I have been combining cacao nibs with goji, raw walnuts and pignolis (or pine-nuts, same difference) and a tsp. of raw red maca powder and, a squeeze of fresh orange juice, a pinch of pink Himalayan rock salt and then a drizzle of agave. It turns into this malty-sweet-salty paste that I eat with a spoon: so good.

Now, having said that, you maybe feeling curious as to what these pictures are here: they are what's known as Kirlian photographs, that is, they read the electromagnetic signature or life force in, well, anything, but in this case: food. Here below is, obviously, an apple. Above is a cacao bean (but its technically a nut)! What is important to note is that this beautiful light that is emitted from a living life-force being, disappears when subjected to heat and cooking.

In essence, we kill the natural light substance of our food when we cook.

I am only bringing this up because I am starting to really notice the feeling of my body following food choices. I feel much better eating that Orange with flax seeds or hemp, or homemade guac with a salad then I ever felt eating potatoes or pasta.

I am transitioning gently so my body really makes the switch 100% and never feels deprived or neglected. I am following David Wolfe's recommendations, adding in the good stuff: this definitely includes green juices and chocolate everyday. How could that be anything other than the best day ever?

I have come to really love my early morning juice ritual; I am finding it very easy to get up at 5:30-6 every morning, watch the sun come up with liquid gold-green juice beside me.

Today's Juice o' the Morning:

1/2 mango
3 Clementine's
1/2 cucumber
5-6 stalks celery
2 small handfuls parsley
4 mint leaves

YUM!

For a real juice superhero, be sure to check out Courtney Pool's Blog as she is on a 92-Day juice feast, as per Angela Stokes and David Rainoshek. It is my intention to do one in January again -- maybe not 92 days but maybe 21 days? Or more ... maybe I will keep going as long as it feels good, if I end up at 92 days: then sure -- I'll do 92 days.

Anyhow, this venture into Sunfood has been so amazing and glorious and, what's more: it requires me to be present. My addictions have been coming up so clearly and I can sit calmly and face them, because now I recognize them and can peacefully and gratefully say: Thank You, I release you. I have no need for your services any longer.

Live Well today, dear ones. And drink your vegetables!

Media Blitz Idiots

2007-12-06T05:30:00.001-08:00

I apologize ahead of time for this rant you are about to read (and the spoilers concerning the His Dark Materials Series; Reader beware!).

See, CNN has run an article about Phillip Pullman's The Golden Compass, which is set to be released as a film this Friday, posing the question whether or not this film is seducing kids into atheism. To which I must reply to CNN most harshly: Do some research! And that goes for all the others you gave sound-bites to in that preposterous article (including the priests): Read the books first! Had you done so, you would have learned that in the second book we are told that Lyra is the Second Eve -- can't get more religious than that! If someone had cared to make an actual intelligent statement about these books concerning religion, it is fair to say that Pullman is commenting on the corruptive nature of religion in our world today, but this also serves to reform said corruption in hopes of something higher and more truthful. That kind of critique should be encouraged and justified, but this CNN article just smacks of poor journalism. Shame on you!

The End of America

2007-11-30T08:47:00.000-08:00

Thanks so much to Angela Stokes and her Raw Reform Blog entry this morning which discusses the troubling issue of the FDA and congress trying to pass a law on pasteurizing leafy greens, especially after the "e-coli" scare last year-- what the papers and the media failed to mention was that no organic spinach was affected/infected but was pulled from the shelves anyway. As well as other links describing the loss of social freedoms, I thought it was merely my staunch and solemn duty to pass on the information.

Ms. Stokes wrote the following:

"Eeeeeeek…seems it’s time for another ‘public service announcement’…
Yep...after pasteurising all the almonds already, the USDA are after your leafy greens now…following the supposed spinach-related ‘e coli’ outbreaks last year, a proposed new law would essentially squish out small and medium sized growers with specified, institutionalised growing rules for ALL leafy greens. The blessed Cornucopia Institute are on the case with this one – with step-by-step guidelines of how to express your objections to this bill BEFORE DECEMBER THE 3RD: (click on link)

...and this is just one part of the picture that’s unfolding at the moment – I would strongly recommend you check out the very insightful article posted today by Mike Adams of NewsTarget for more info – HERE: "

And here is a lecture linked to from Mike Adam's site on the "End of America: 10 Steps to Fascism"
Please watch. It' so important to know what's going on.

Many Exciting Returns: The Artist's Life

2007-11-27T10:12:00.000-08:00

Those of you have been following my blog, (at all) will be happy to know I have decided to finish my MA in Literature, but I have also decided to forgo a PhD to return to my training in art and illustration. This has made me happier than I have been in years, having the faith and heart to follow my passions.

I want to read and make and write and draw beautiful books. So that's what I'm going to do.

And it's been incredible! By allowing myself this freedom of choice, my creative juices which I had been unwittingly been stifling have been flowing, rushing through my head, filling it with images and story ideas, including a new faery tale take on Sleeping Beauty, the story never told. We all know about Aurora (named for the morning star) but we never hear the other side of the story, the one told by her twin sister Vesper, the evening star.

And it has alread begun to wind its way out of my head and onto pen and paper:

"This is a story that has been told a thousand times a thousand, and never once has it been told correctly. Once upon a time, there was a tower and a dragon, a splinter and a briar, but they got it wrong, they usually do, historians are rarely capable of trustworthiness, especially when magic is involved. What you must understand firstly is that my sister was never called Briar Rose. She never made it out of the tower. I was the one who was sent away to the cottage in the woods."

In the Body

2007-11-26T05:54:00.001-08:00

Sorry I haven't been on here in two weeks, those just flew by! Wow. I am nearing the end of the semester and time is short these days. Plus just coming out of the Thanksgiving holidays ...

A grad student's work is never done. I can't believe fall break is over, but there are just 3 weeks left until Winter Break starting Dec. 14. And the semester will be over, I will have written 50 pages of research documents, and handed them forward under the ruling of the paper gods.

But today I am stuck in the body being sick. I woke up coughing. Completely out of nowhere and its awful. I may have to cancel classes today... Anybody know the fastest holistic way to shutdown a cough?

Emergen-C
echinacea
goldenseal
garlic?

The Crossroads

2007-11-11T06:56:00.001-08:00

This is going to be an extension of "Woes & Throes" -- because I am looking for a way to relate to what lies before me -- and -- I am trying to listen for the feeling that tells me: Bingo. Nailed it. Yes!

I always second guess myself. And I am learning that I have become enamored and obsessed with denying my own personal divine feminine, in favor of the masculine nature I can wield so well -- although, I find this is the major cause of my exhaustion. Trying to fit my plethora of round expansive pegs into small singular holes, which requires neither imagination nor allows for a proper expression of self. So, if I want to be happy -- and I do -- I have to change. I have discovered that much of my issues surrounding my, well, life is due to this struggle with feeling seen, important, smart enough. It has been such an ego trip for years, and I still stumble over it. I don't know why it still surprises me when this happens, as I have never as of yet been able to give it up.

Since I was ten, I wanted to be an artist-writer. But having gone through school and being slowed, as well as finding myself un-nerved by my peers around me that were better than I was, I lost faith, heart and ambition and went after another course of study. I do not regret pursuing Humanities or Literature, but I do regret leaving the art behind completely for so many many years.

On Tuesday I will complete my 6 week re-introduction into Drawing Fundamentals and what was so incredible is the somatic memory. My body remembers how to do this. My mind shuts off entirely (gloriously) and I get to live in the present moment as long as I am creating. This happens with writing too, but not in the same way -- words still pour forth when I write, but when I draw, it's just me, the paper and all eternity.

I have three options (four?) awaiting me after my MA which do not require me to move out of state (and this is attractive because M and I are really liking Boulder and Colorado in general -- we talk about wanting to see other places, but with us getting married next summer and already talking about family, we are wanting something more stable and yet unlimited in desirability) and they are as follows:

1. Pursue an MFA in Fiction or Literary Non-Fiction (low-residency via Warren Wilson or Goddard or Seattle Pacific) and become the novelist I have always wanted to be.

2. Go for a PhD in Theology & Culture through the joint program at the University of Denver and then come back and possibly teach at my own Alma Mater in a joint position in the Religious Studies and Comparative Literature departments.

3. Go into a classically training art program here in Boulder and become proficient in drawing, painting and sculpture.

(options 4 & 5 are dependent on choosing option #3)

4. With this new acquisition of skills, apply to the Rocky Mountain College of Art & Design and get a BFA in Illustration -- thereby becoming equipped to illustrate children's books in the manner of those who always inspired me as a child: Barbra Helen Berger, Chris Van Allsburg, Arthur Rackham, Brian Froud, Alan Lee?

5. Become the Art Lady. This means that while doing my own projects I offer private and group art lessons to children of various ages in the Boulder area, just as I had received them in Iowa when I was a child (at this time I would like to give thanks my own teachers from the age of 7 until 14: Jewell MacDonald and Patty Hancock. You taught me so well, and I didn't even realize it). My mother actually suggested this option and I had never considered it, but it gave me such a warm happy feeling about it...

SO. These are my options. And none of them are bad in any way -- but the question is, "Which Way is My Way?" As Andre the Giant questions Wallace Shawn in The Princess Bride.

Whenever I project my thinking into the future, intuitively, to ask myself: What will my life look like: I have seen the same thing since I was barely twenty: a nice house, cheerful, lots of windows -- a big kitchen, cats , dogs and my kids... and an art studio out back. Even when I wasn't doing art, this has been the same vision, unchanging. No where in there do I see myself driving to school everyday or teaching everyday. As much as I enjoy teaching, I know that when I have my kids, I'm going to want to be with them. shrug

I feel like that character on Mona Lisa Smile, played by Julia Stiles -- the smart would-have-been Law School Bound Intelligent lass and she tells Julia Roberts: "You told us we could be anything we wanted. This is what I want." Thereby denying her schooling in the public sphere and allowing it to augment her private sphere. The issue is I feel I am both the Stiles and Roberts' characters rolled into one body. I both want what I want, and am frightened by the "be a mom" label. I see what it did to my mom. And it frightens me a little... but. I do not want to live my life afraid of how others might label me. I just want the best live ever and on that, I am not willing to compromise.

Early Early

2007-11-11T05:58:00.000-08:00

I woke up at about five this morning. Mostly due to kitty squabbles and their hunger issues. But Instead of going back to bed, I watched the sun come up. And I am always grateful when I am awake to experience this. I'd like to do it every morning. Maybe I will. Starting today...

I think there is something missing from our lives if we over-sleep and over-stimulate ourselves that we never feel the ability to get up when the whole non-human world does.

It's November (albeit, it has been an exceptionally warm November in Colorado, thus-far) and the birds are still out in the morning, the air was cool and vibratory. Yes. I went outside with M's furry clogs on my feet and scuffled around taking pictures of the amazing clouds and the glimpse of the flatirons that we have from our front yard or dining room window... I will have to post those later because the battery pack is recharging, presently.

But I think, if you can -- wake up early at least once a week and watch the sky grow light... it's like magic.

(I can't wait for Fall break, however, in all truth, this leaves me about a month to write 50 pages for my grad classes' final project/papers. One paper is going to be comparing space and place in Willa Cather and Melville novels. The other will concern itself with Rushdie's Midnight's Children. )

I find myself (my somatic consciousness) leaning again towards smoothies. Odd, when it's kind of cold in energy, but I really am not liking the foods I always used to like (i.e. cooked). They make me congested and sap my energy. It's really quite amazing, using myself as my own chemistry experiment -- after my juice feast, my body tells me right away which substances are a no-go. I guess my body has always been pretty good about that, I just wasn't listening.

I think listening is going to be my theme for the next year. I turn 27 on Tuesday, which is a Nine, numerologically (sp) speaking. A double nine too! Wow. A year of completion. And it will be. This next year I will graduate from my Masters, I will get married (wow!), I am subscribing to a year's worth of The Best Day Ever! and -- well. I don't know what else. But I will be listening for it.

“A single event can awaken within us a stranger totally unknown to us. To live is to be slowly born.”Antoine de Saint-Exupery

(Juice for the morning: cilantro-celery-pineapple. One of the best!)

Woes & Throes

2007-11-08T11:37:00.000-08:00

Sorry I have been relatively mute for the past week or so. Class, grad school, & life - in whatever configuration you may want to order them... they have been affecting me. But, so is my ever ongoing issues surrounding my path, spiritual, occupational and otherwise. * Side note (way off topic): for those of you who were following me through my juice feast, yeah... the juicer I ordered back then, arrived. Today. Anyway. I have always been caught between art and writing. I am an academic, but I always wanted to be an artist. I was on the track too. I had private art lessons since I was seven up until the age of, (we'll be generous and say) 16, where at that point I was living in JH and the only art classes available were of the public school sphere. So, I did that. It wasn't until my freshman year at UA-Tucson that I realized, of all my classes I was taking, my studio classes bit the worst. And I fully blame this on their curriculum req’s i.e. "everyone starts at the bottom" even if one had a color theory portfolio going back to when they were nine... all the same: the experience kind of killed it for me. So -- I threw myself into the topics that were interesting to me: all those things that would eventually garner me a BA in humanities once I transferred to CU. That is, art history, literature, philosophy, religion, anthropology. I am currently pursuing my MA in Literature in Colorado as well. But here's the sad thing. I have let myself be corrupted by Literature with a capital L. I used to be mythology nerd, sci-fi, fantasy and faerie tales: stories of the mythic mind, magical realism, folklore and the hidden allegories they are the vessels for. My Masters, until now, had ruined my love of reading... but I am considering that maybe I am not reading the right things. I am insanely interested, fascinated, hooked on the comparative study of religion and their mythic counterparts: as they are all the same story, essentially. All religions conspire to allow humankind to arrive at the same place, almost always via the same ends, bearing the same path-markers. It does not matter if you are Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Sufi, Hindu, Jainist, Pagan, Egyptologist, Buddhist: everything leads to absolutely the same outcome. But our understanding of this as a culture is supremely thwarted and compressed/oppressed. We have lost our ability to relate to God on mystical levels, and have limited ourselves to the literal ones... how unfortunate...

Anyhow --- I can’t decide now: Do I go back to art? Becoming classically trained? Raise my kids in an atmosphere where I give art classes to local families, and write stories until I fall asleep by candle light like Jo March in Little Women? Do I pursue a PhD in Theology & Culture? And MFA? What am I supposed to do with all of my interests without relegating myself to being in school forever?

Beginning

2007-11-05T09:31:00.000-08:00

So, November is National Novel Writing month and so I am back to working on mine-- I have snippets (some of which I have included here) from various places in the text, 25 page worth: but I finally took a stab at the opening, as follows:

The Electric Lighthouse

BEFORE THE STORY: LILIA’S REQUEST

The day that Evangaline gave me the book, I did not immediately know what she had handed down to me; all that had been bestowed and buried, all that we would leave behind. After the fires and the ash both fell away, it was no longer her secret to keep. As I finally opened the worn and faded cover on the long train-ride that would carry me away from Maine and my father’s Lighthouse, I felt the weight of the story seep into me. Like my sister’s fear of sadness and her love of the things of flight – and I knew finally what I was supposed to say. And with this book, with its apple green binding, the cracked leather fragile and wrinkled along the folded corners, the pen-knife engraved seals on the cover, I became the caretaker of my father’s story. In the end one might say what you are about to read is, perhaps, more a ghost story than anything else. And there are ghosts here but it is also a story of our castle and the sea.

My father’s castle cannot be found in any book. And those who once knew it, and where it stood have long since died, and the jut of land that it stood upon along that small strip of coast is now called by another name and mostly, it has been reclaimed by the water it was once guard and sentry to. But what I would come to know as my father’s castle did not belong to him either. Nor his grandfather, from whom he had inherited its keep. And this would be the beginning of all the trouble. But we must start before then.

Chapter One

At the age of eleven, Simon Weatherfield lost his mother. It was only a fever and a small cough, she said. Then one day as she was bringing in the cows from pasture, she died in the fields, watching the first snow of the year come across the White Mountains. The doctors said she had been born with an enlarged heart and looking directly into Simon’s gray eyes, made sure he understood. And since his father, had gone to fight in the Red River War and died trying to remove Kiowa Indians from the middle plains just two years earlier, there was the issue of who would raise the boy. Like his mother, he was an only child and so there were no living aunts or uncles to take him in. And his father’s family was still in England and either had received no word of the orphaned son or refusing to be bothered, they had been silent on the matter just the same. Finally, the courthouse in Exeter came to discover the whereabouts of his dead mother’s still extant father. A professor of Letters retired from Harvard, who had taken up residence in Maine with his second wife, and it was there that Simon would go to live.

_____________________________________________

He would often dream of his mother, she would come the fifth hour of All Souls and he would wake, cold and see her sitting in the rocking chair in the corner of the room, looking out over the sea. Just as in life, she rarely spoke; her movements, small. She smiled her lop-sided smile. He had always pictured her like some human-shaped hot water kettle, constructed to bare secrets, songs, mirroring the images and the mysteries. He had never seen her cry, not even when word came that his father was dead. He had waited for her to cry out in pain or fear or grief but she didn’t, she accepted everything that moved around her, as though nothing more than leaves in a burst of wind. And now she sat, full clothed in sashes and white cotton tied to her ankles, which made a shisking sound across the floor. Her eyes were cold and grey but they also shone with a bright stillness that comforted him even in their eeriness. And he would stay in bed, knowing that he could not approach her, nor touch her, for then she would dissipate like a mist burned away by the sun; he would simply wait for her to speak.

_____________________________________

It wouldn’t be until years later when I would find myself sitting with Jack at his kitchen table in a farmhouse in Iowa, that it would all seem right again. I don’t think they ever really wrote. I think Clover was ashamed, and Jack felt the smart in that -- felt in his body her absence like any lover would, the bitter tugging from a memory emblazoned by the one they had lost. I think he had just been so frightened of disappearing completely that his need to survive no matter what cost came screaming in behind his minds eye and in an instant he felt the only thing he could do was the one thing that he did: and he left all of us behind.

It was late spring. That day the sun was warm on the green grass, and the oaks shaded the porch where one could just as easily sit and hear the creek and see the rows of corn, as look over the pastures before the hill where Jack’s two little girls ran and laughed in the barnyard, skipping and dancing as they fed chickens. I realized then that he had found peace in a way that perhaps, none of the rest of us ever would.
As I had sat looking at him then, all grown up, a beard darkening his cheeks, he seemed for the first time in all the time I had known him, filled with his own light, finally a glow completely independent from his twin’s effervescence. I had to swallow, because I felt my throat tighten, and I blinked and said: “I’m really happy for you, Jack.”

He cocked his head at me, reached out to wipe the tear that slipped down my chin and he smiled. “Me too.”

Health-Rant

2007-10-30T09:14:00.001-07:00

Choosing An Audience

2007-10-30T08:53:00.000-07:00

I'm having issues deciding what kind of blog this should be.

I want it to reflect my budding interests in raw food nutrition, and the highest of all nutrition-health concepts. I want to talk about art and film and life and books. Religion and spirituality. About the planet, about the stories I hope to finish and the others I am about to start.

But it seems that these blogs are very much sequestered into a "kind" -- a topic to provide them a place to be, an audience to talk to... and with that, like everything else in my life when it comes to my interests, I can't ever pick just one. I am made up of too many passions and I feel tight and squeamish when I relinquish one to concentrate on the other.

It's like they are a vast organic machine of wooden cogs and moth wings, delicately balanced and, when caught in the right light -- they shimmer just a bit. A gossamer. A glamour and then poof! it's gone. The sun has set, the household is full of hunger and homework and I have to wait another day to do what it is that I am wanting to do.

Ok. I will not try to shove this round peg into a square hole. I just need to find a better fit. Until then, I will not try to wrestle in my place like when one wears an ill-fitted coat, catching you right under the arms... I will just let go and write and do whatever it is that I do best. A little bit of everything and let the rest sort itself out. Ah, good. I'm glad we had this talk. I feel much better now.

Days 5 -6: Into the World

2007-10-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

The most wonderful thing happened.

But before I tell you, I have to give some background. I have been struggling with my weight for almost six years. I have had bouts of apathy, depression, listlessness, anger, fatigue... which are hardly in the motivation column when it comes to exercise. Hearing raw foodists discuss the energy they experience made me skeptical but hopeful -- and now convinced. I will have come away from my juice (as of yesterday) 14 pounds lighter. But that's just the bonus!

What I wanted was to feel better and I feel great! Wonderful, energetic, alive! I have, in the past two days, been on hour long hikes, skipping and feeling exuberant in the cool Colorado air and not even been out of breath! It's amazing -- I feel like I can take on the world. Conquer mountains, learn how to play an instrument, be in nature more, find my place in this world. I know that diet alone does not change your body or your feeling of relationship with yourself or others, let alone the planet. Now I feel like I have the energy and vitality to make this next step. And I am so grateful for that! I feel heroic. Happy. I haven't been here in a long time. I had forgotten what I was missing!

So -- Go for a walk today! Have some juice, have a salad -- live your life, don't wait, don't wait!

Breakfast Juice --

1 head broccoli
1 lemon
1/2 fuji apple
1/2 cucumber

Juicing on Fridays

2007-10-26T06:49:00.000-07:00

Today is day five. And last night was pretty -- I dunno. I can't tell if the bee pollen incident put me into "shock" or what, but I just didn't want juice last night. I had tea and water but no juice. I hope it was body's way of purging something.

A slight rash has developed in the areas of the lymph, so that's good, it may be easier to go through the skin. My tummy feels very empty this morning, but I will go make some juice.

One wonderful thing I have noticed is flexibility. Sometime yesterday I realized that I wasn't so stiff. I could bend, twist, reach further than usual. That was a nice surprise and no doubt, due to toxins leaving the system. Every detox is different.

For Breakfast, I'm having

head of romaine
2 c. grapes
5 stalks of kale
1/2 lemon
5 Stalks of celery

Learning the Hard Way

2007-10-25T15:54:00.000-07:00

I found out today that I am allergic to bee pollen. What a bummer. It's so good for you on so many levels. It made my tongue go numb, itchy and tingly-- it made my tonsils swell up and it was difficult to breathe for 45 minutes. Anyone know a similar superfood that will give similar health results without a reaction?

To alleviate the stomach issues that arose promptly after ( and this really irritated me, I woke up today feeling so wonderful. I have been laying low, and feeling rather sleepy ever since) I drank 20 oz. of pineapple-celery juice with nutmeg. This calmed my tummy down.

Now I am enjoying a pear-carrot-celery-ginger mixture with more nutmeg and some cinnamon. Kind of like pie. Yum-o. But a tired yum-o. No energy for exclamation points.

Chocolateering

2007-10-25T13:51:00.000-07:00

This is a wonderful blog about chocolate, find it at the Sunny Raw Kitchen; here's just a taste --

"Chocolate: Can It Really Be Good For You?
In a pamphlet prepared by my friend and Raw Chef Chantale, I just learned that aside from being the best known dietary source of magnesium, raw cacao is exceptionally high in sulphur (the 'beauty mineral'), rich in antioxidants, is an anti-depressant, AND an aphrodisiac! In fact, the cacao bean "contains over 300 identifiable chemical compounds, making it one of the most complex foods known to man."

Experiments have shown that the caffeine and the theobromine contained in chocolate are quite different when consumed raw rather than cooked. Still according to Chantale, "one experiment conducted with a decoction of roasted ground cacao beans in boiling water produced an excitement of the nervous system similar to that caused by black coffee, an excited state of circulation, and an accelerated pulse. Interestingly, when the same decoction was made with raw, unroasted beans, neither effect was noticeable, leading the experimenters to conclude that the physiological changes were caused by aromatic substances released during roasting."

Raw makes ALL the difference. This blog is nigh on filled with recipes: Don't miss Carmella's amazing chewy caramel turtles with Ganache topping! All raw of course!
Don't they look amazing?

The Juicy Life # 4

2007-10-25T07:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I have made it through day 3, the ominous day, I was told, as long as you could get through that, you were fine. And I am. Decidedly so. I had a bit of a headache and a little stuffiness yesterday, but will chalk that up to purifying. What’s been amazing and wonderful and surprising is : I haven’t had any cravings at all. I mean not for “so-called-real food” like pasta or rice or bread. I had that Bieler’s broth fantasy and acted on the fact that my body must have been wanting more greens. And so, I provided them. And all is well. I think it’s actually wonderful and amazing (my catchphrase today it seems) that when you provide your body the space to heal, it will tell you exactly what it needs. Since I am not having cravings, I interpret this to mean that I am actually being well-rounded enough that my body is actually getting what it needs to run properly. I have been doing Udo’s Omega 3-blend oil (EFA), and seaweed flake (iodine) and protein, iron, calcium, vitamins, minerals (leafy greens and spirulina) all the lovely stuff from fruit – its wonderful and amazing! As I said above: I think when we actually make time to listen to our bodies we will find out intuitively, exactly what the next step is.

In the evenings I have started adding some garlic into my juices for a more savory flavor, as I am still cooking for M. But I have juiced nearly nine cloves this week so far! And then I went and looked through this lovely book I have by Rebecca Wood called The New Whole Foods Encyclopedia, which is full of wonderful info, and I often look up food lore there. I think I will put up a new interesting tidbit when I find them of value. For Example: did you know this about acorns? "If you've ever wondered why the wooden pulls to Venetian blinds are shaped like acorns? It's because of Thor. This Norse god ruled both thunder and oak trees. Therefore oaks were considered protected from lightning and hanging an acorn talisman at one's window prevented it from striking indoors." Okay, so I know that's not about eating food, but here's my point,

about the garlic: "Health Benefits: garlic has a pungent-sweet flavor, is warming in the thermal nature, is a stimulant, and tonifies the spleen-pancreas, stomach, kidney and lung meridians. {It} stimulates metabolism and is used for both chronic and acute disease. It's antibacterial, anti-fungal and anti-parasitical. Helps to stabilize blood sugar levels. Promotes growth of healthy intestinal flora. It eliminates toxins from the body ranging from {get this} snake venom to heavy metals." How cool is that! Perfect for my needs while juicing!

Breakfast:

1 head of romaine
handful of grapes
1/2 fuji apple
4 stalks celery with leaves
1 tsp. Spirulina

turned into a lovely deeeeep jade color!

Juice #2

1 small bulb fennel
6 leaves dinosaur kale
1/2 lemon with pith
1/4 fuji apple
1/2 carrot
parsley stems
4 oz. purified (not Distilled!!) water

smells green but tastes great -- very refreshing.

Being Open to Your Mission: The Technology of Health

2007-10-24T08:41:00.000-07:00

I don't think he needs much introduction. But --
Be Here, Be Now, Be Well!

and read his articles on the Three Age Defying Secrets of the Beauty Diet,
10 Secrets to Raise Your Vibration and Super Nutrition Comes of Age

David "Avocado" Wolfe

The Juicy Life: Day 3: More Greens Please

2007-10-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

(Breakfast: 1 apple, 3 stalks celery, 1medium cucumber, and a bunch of parsley, radish sprouts --- they actually put out a lot (!) of juice. A small section of green onion.) Last night my tummy was a little grumbly and this morning, a little discomfort or odd or tenderness right around the pelvis. But nothing bad. A little bloated -- what does that mean again? Ah yes. Need More Greens. This is my Theme today.

Just as I was warned, after two days – this being day number 3 – I am beginning to want more savory juices and less sweet. I juiced garlic and ginger and chili peppers last night with seaweed flake. The one apple was almost too much for me. I am seeing visions of zucchini and parsley and … come to think of it, I’m craving Bieler’s broth. I wonder how that would taste raw… hmmm. For those of you who don’t know what this is, it consists of zucchini squash, green beans, celery, parsley, Extra virgin olive oil, & Clean, chemical-free water. Often blended into a liquid soup and flavored with garlic, onions, cayenne pepper, ginger, herbs, and seasoned with Nama Shoyu. It is meant to restore one's alkaline reserves and improve liver function.

I ordered an Omega 8005 juicer that was supposed to be here by tomorrow and now I find out, it’s been back-ordered!! That deserves a big ol' Charlie Brown: UGH. I have a near 20-yr old champion juicer (donated by my parents to me 2 yrs ago) which still works fine, but doesn’t get nearly enough liquid out of the pulp, and especially struggles to get the greens the way I’d like them, too. Bummer. I am doing as much as I can – but I find I am worried, having lived with hypoglycemia, and thyroid issues, (I have consciously avoided things like cabbage and broccoli, as they tend to be inhibitors, I think) I am wary of the fruit sugar as I’m sure, in addition to the pancreas, like most of the population, Candida is probably also an issue -- So how does one avoid overly sugaring the system? Green greens greens. Lettuces, radicchio, kale, celery, ginger, garlic, radish, cucumber, bell peppers, one would think carrot – but even David Wolfe warns us of trying to “sweet our way in” – so much sugar. I need to purchase a nut-milk bag and cheesecloth strainer. And maybe blend up my greens with some water and strain.

What’s amazing is that during this feast, all one’s food addictions come to point. The “little mind” is constantly going, c’mon, quit, stop. This is silly. Don’t you like food? Bread? Soup? And yes, I enjoy all those things, but I am more and more aware of how good the juices feel and taste and as I have been experimenting with 60% raw before this feast, including a juice a day before the beginning of this week – I was finding that my old emotionally driven favorite foods were losing their taste. I mean, I can still taste them – but they no longer taste how I remember them – and the fact that I still find myself fantasizing about them, that to me shows just how emotional eating is for me, and probably a majority of people, which is why David Rain talks about people saying, “O – I can’t live without _______” be it cheese, coffee, steak. What-have-you. And while the “little mind” complains – my larger soul-self keeps reminding me: It’s only food. Why are you losing your head over this. You feel fine .. no pain, no discomfort, you don’t feel hungry. It’s only ten days. Get over yourself. But in a kind, gentle, loving way of course. It is only ten days and I’ve done three with no real problem at all. So seven more to go? Bring it on. If any of you have suggestions for more savory juice combo’s I’m all ears. Send them along, please!

( What a bitter sulfur-y concoction! Whew!!

¼-Grapefruit, with pith
3 cloves garlic
1.5 inches ginger
kale
celery
baby chard greens
…. Had to add a little pineapple. Yikes!

Note to self -- never use grapefruit pith)

Eating as an Act of Love w/David Rainoshek

2007-10-23T14:50:00.000-07:00

watching this -- I realize that I need more green juice. Vegetable juices, kale, lettuce, garlic, etc.

Let's Not Beet Around the Bush

2007-10-23T09:07:00.001-07:00

Beets really do have a splendid garnet color. Now I know why certain colors are called “jewel tones” and as a former-would-be-trying-to-get-back-into-it artist, one would think I already knew these things, which I’m sure at one point, I did. But it’s been so long since I opened up a set of anything with Prismacolor on the box.

I only had to add 1 med. sized beet and my morning juice now, I am certain, could have easily dyed fabric back in 15th century Spain. And, without looking, right now, I know as I sit here drinking this, my lip is likewise emblazoned with a “jewel-toned” mustache. My beet is masking other shades of carrot orange, (5 of them) ½ of an English cucumber and 1 large knob of ginger. This is my breakfast on day 2 of my Juice feast. It’s actually going really well. I only felt “hungry” at about 10PM last night and settled in for tea, something warm always makes the tummy feel full. My last juice of the night was another watermelon-based concoction, also with ginger. Rightly called an Elixir, I got the idea out of Natalia Rose's book. -- And come to think of it, so is my breakfast. I think she calls this one: The Great Eliminator. Oh. goody. Well, what’s the use of doing a juice cleanse without cleansing, am I right?

I have these big farmhouse bar glasses. And I figured out that to get in my 3-4 quarts, i.e. shooting for 1Gallon of juice a day, I will have to drink 8 of what I just drank. But at least I have a handy eye-based measuring system. Now I don’t have to count ounces.

And I as I was scouring the internet last night looking for all the various Raw/Living/Vegan Food restaurants around the US, I am more than a little surprised that Hippie-Yuppie Boulder is without one. I think Karma Cuisine was alive and kicking for maybe 8 months, maybe a year? And got replaced by a Philly’s Cheese Steak Shop. Wow. Complete 180 there. To be fair, it was on an awkward section of Broadway before it hits Walnut and no real parking, the killer of many businesses in the Pearl Street District. But NJ has one, for crying out loud! Something should be done! Maybe as I get more into this raw lifestyle, I will find inspiration to open one, I did almost drop out of undergrad to go to culinary school... I admit, I have eyed the Tree of Life Rejuvenation Center's program for a Masters Live/Vegan Nutrition... so who knows? What is amazing is how your body reacts, taste buds, response centers... the body knows what is useful and then I walk through the market and am amazed at how much non-food there is in there. Cardboard, death, nutrient-deprived. Wow. I am very happy with my juice so far. I feel good. I also just purchased Angela Stokes' Juice Feasting Handbook for $15 bucks as an e-book off her store-website. This is also coming in handy. A run down of do's and do nots and things to try.

In any case, one of my favorites from my search was Café Gratitude in Berkeley, CA. Each Menu Item is named after affirmations: I AM JOYFUL, I AM GRACEFUL, I AM WHOLE, I AM ACCEPTING. Really, very wonderful actually. If you live in the Bay area, lucky, lucky you!

For all the wind we had last night in Boulder, it is as still as death outside. Eerily sunny and blue skied but very still. Maybe it will make for a Productive reading day, I have 200 pages to get through. Or skim through, if the need arises. Ah, Grad School. At this point, I am kinda wishing I had bit the bullet and applied for an MFA. Maybe I will, next. One of those really well known low-residency ones, like Warren Wilson or Seattle Pacific, Goddard? I don't really know if I want to move again. I mean, out of city-state. New house? Sure. I am wondering what life would actually feel like without having to be in school, or working so I could go back to school, but actually being a participant in my own grown up life. It is exciting, and I'm pretty sure, this isn't just the juice talking, but what if it is? What if this is what cleansing is all about: clarity. Far seeing, far reaching... abundance, life, light, and a new sense of living this body-life, which cannot be separate, but whole, and warm.

Update:

Juice #2

½ yam
4 stalks celery
4 stalks rainbow chard
3 Leaves of Romaine
¾ c. Pineapple

became a lovely rich camo-hunter green. The pineapple takes the edge off the green taste, very nicely! And I’m starting to really like celery juice. So refreshing…

also downed Ashwaganda, charcoal tablets

Juice # 3

Piña-celery-colada!

Juice of one young Thai coconut
¾ c. pineapple
4 stalks celery
2-3 T coconut meat (came out like milk)

Yum!

Juice #4

1 clove garlic
1 inch piece ginger
2 carrots
handful of red grapes
1/8 Poblano pepper
1/4 English cucumber
bunch of cilantro
Hemp/Flaxseed oil
seaweed seasoning

nice and savory. Will make again. :)

The Juicy Life

2007-10-22T14:30:00.000-07:00

Today, as promised, is the first of a six-day Juice Feast! I'm telling you, I consider myself a pretty health savvy person, but I just never knew juice was so incredible! I have had the occasional carrot-apple or carrot-orange or any of those combinations as fresh juice in my past, but store bought OJ and Knudsens or Santa Cruz Organics were usually where I went for juice. What a waste of flavor! Fresh homemade, read: non pasteurized juicing is incredible, the flavor nuances alone: WOW!

Today since my hot water and lemon in the morning,
I had (juiced):

2 carrots, 1/2 bunch parsley, 2 inch piece ginger, and 1/2 pear
Citrus kombucha for good tummy bacteria
water
Yummy concoction of 6 celery stalks, 6-8 cubes of watermelon and 1 whole lime: outstanding! Super hydrating too!

Over the course of the next six days, I will be having to down approx. 3-4 quarts of juice each day to fulfill caloric needs, but water and loose, non-caffinated herbal tea will make an appearance too, of course.

The whole point is not necessarily to do a Huge Calorie Restriction, but instead provide abundant nutrients while allowing one's digestion to take a breather, so your body can spend less energy on digestion and more on cleansing. So I will be using this space to journal, track my progress, in addition to my usual randomness. A big thanks to Angela Stokes of RawReform for her help, inspiration and guidance.

The Ecologist

2007-10-20T17:42:00.000-07:00

Life life life is more than
just my or your obtuse theories
about it. I think I would like to live
someday,
where I can see tides,
where I can learn movement.
Without obtuse angles to guide my eye.

To spin,
heavier at one end,
Rising in on my sandy toes,
my own emptiness, comes
and goes, my own silence;
fills with the voices of gulls,
I see a shining from within,
like the sun,
but red kelp, striped fish, and golden
lobsters, all cling to nets,
like a ribcage.

Walking about unnoticed,
by strangers, and pretending that
we do not matter.
I hear them tell me this is safer,
makes dark things grow,
stifles organs of perception.

The oil slick on the skin of seals,
the filled gills of fish
hardened matter molts
and scales, measures per ounce
the caw of organic seasons,
but so beloved by the clockmaker --
Time is of no consequence, it is a learning
mechanism. I get caught in the cogs,
I count the seconds passing.

We do not tinker with life life life
as we do gears,
when we try, the coil creaks,
we stare at white light and imagine
we hear ticking
which sets the rhythm of the heart center.

Remember our walking sticks,
and the mountain path,
we don't always recognize what’s missing,
We expire, crumble, exhale and
like rocks under moss,
underwater,
under wind,
polished by the breath that warms us,
in languages and meters forgotten,
too late for this life, life, life
we begin to dream again.

Wristwatches, upon second
and minute hands, count our day,
We wait for it to be over.

We do not sit and visit,
but shut up into towers, our own divisions
guard us, our own sentry.
Ignoring colors as impetus --
we map, in order to know.

We, so very sure of our choices, kill the explorer.
And suddenly see him far off,
slowly sinking. Slowly,
amongst where the red reeds and drowning Egyptians
are marching
between the space where hydrogen
and air made water.
Mistranslation! we cry.
Retry. Start again,
and where once we walked in river reeds,
lines are drawn now in red, stained by choices.
A monk’s hand,
a sailor, a story,
catches us in our spirit.
The Fisherman sails home.

I wonder what the fisherman sees
when nets rise up with silver slippery bodies
Glimmering fear, death
and like any light,
is snuffed out by darkness,
the lighthouse drowns.
Ships, vessels, filled with souls, save
one sole. It creak off the rocks.
Perceptions of land slighted,
by slant rhymes,
by sand bars they did not know
under low tides,
lay there sleeping.

O, yes we could measure lives in many ways
By time, by coffee spoons,
peaches or poems
composed
in open air.
By mountains conquered,
sunrises listened to. The number of
breaths you take as you fall
to the night, in sleeping.
Silences are so full of communication.

I am open to investigating pine trees,
scouting sycamores, surveying beaches,
inspecting the fashions of mist,
their long grey-blue dresses.

There is something,
in this ecosystem
that is I.

We know the storybooks,
printed with pictures.
We know when and
where there was a misstep. We can hear it.
We can feel the meter is off.
Yet, unaware of the tilt
of planetary balance,
the empty spaces, the vacancy of species,
upending, we see that finally,
we are falling.
Perhaps we have grown
accustomed to it:

Falling in love,
from grace,
out of favor,
into money,
into despair,
into depths of down, down, down.
This life, life, life is still
so mysterious,
and yet, this is not enough.
Like truths most high,
mystery is not to be trusted.

No room, no room --
those trees are blocking,
my view of the city.
It used to be a useless valley, the fisherman
remembers.
Look what we’ve done. he says.
We’ve made the space useful,
he says. To which the reply must be:
I thought being space,
was purpose enough.
But see the twinkling lights? He says.
Not breath, not spirit alone,
only now, but light too.
The microcosm exists,
no matter the times we trip,
not seeing the rock.
Blaming it on our feet,
we do not look up again.

This life, life, life, spins on
and here I sit, wishing
on tides and skipping stones:
I am not progressive,
No corner offices, please
but could I have them returned?
I want my mountains back,
I want them back
the way they were,
before you took them.
Still, with wild wilderness,
where wild creatures roamed
creating bumps in the nights,
and questions of whooooo in the winter.
The owls always asked too many questions,
you never said so, but I knew
it made you nervous.
There is a solution, but
then again, extinction
always had a cruel smile.

LRose Young March 2007

Neil Gaiman reads "Instructions"

2007-10-20T15:23:00.001-07:00

and others...

... and if you have not seen this yet; please find a way to do so. If it is no longer playing in your hometown, add it to your must-see list, or NetFlix or Blockbuster... that is, if you are usually turned on and inspired by folklore, faerie tales and the mythic akin or if you cannot wait, start with the book that was the inspiration for his film.

if you're still wanting more check out this Neil Gaiman Interview on the nature of imagination.

My Friend, Cashew

2007-10-20T14:01:00.000-07:00

I have recently discovered, through various culinary experiments, just how creamy a cashew is once its met up with a food processor (I have also become addicted to citrus flavored Synergy Kombucha, but that's another story). It has become my go-to nut, second maybe to pine nuts. It becomes the base for a creamy sandwich spread that I have not yet named but its addicting and so healthy. No added sugars, just the food as nature intended. But its so very yummy that I thought I would share.

Creamy Cashew Spread

(always use organic ingredients whenever possible.
They taste better and are much better for a healthy you
and the environment)

2 cloves garlic
1/4 of medium Anaheim pepper

chop finely in Cuisinart or other food processor.

add 1/2 small red bell pepper
small handful of fresh mint
1 handful of fresh parsley

combine again.

remove paste and set aside

add 1 cup of RAW cashew pieces and process until "meaty"
add 1/2 avocado, and while blending,
add 1.5 T of Extra Virgin Olive Oil
2 T rice vinegar
a good pinch of Celtic Sea salt. Blend until it begins to look smooth like a chunky pesto.
Stop and add in herb mixture. Pulse to combine smoothly. May take 30-45 sec.

Usually I spread this on homemade flax crackers or an Ezekiel 4:9 sprouted grain tortilla and top with sweet onion, sultana raisins, julienned sweet bell pepper, a thinly sliced mound of Napa cabbage and grated carrot. Yum! Enjoy!

Raw Ideas

2007-10-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

by the end of the weekend, my dietary habit will have changed tremendously. I will be heading into a 60-80% raw food lifestyle. Preceded by 10 days of juice feasting. After that, I will owe much more of the structure I will actually be using to David Wolfe's Sunfood Diet Success System with a little help from Angela Stokes' Raw Food Reform Blog. The difference, I am also transitioning using Natalia Rose of Raw Food Life Force and Raw Food Detox fame, to include raw goat milk cheese in moderation to keep my vitamin B12 until I transition completely.

This morning, so far? I had:

12 oz. fresh juice consisting of carrot, kale, bok choy, apple, parsley and ginger
AND
2 Ezekiel Sprouted Grain tortillas filled with my own raw honey-fig "marmalade" with slivered raw almonds and rosemary, one thin slice of raw sheep's-milk Parmesan, a few leaves of romaine lettuce and 1/8 slices of roasted red bell peppers. SOooo good.

I think the time has come to stop thinking of our bodies as dumping grounds. Food isn't just about fuel, its about consciousness...

"The Miracle of Minerals"

"The Beauty of Food"

Novel Excerpts

2007-10-19T09:36:00.000-07:00

even though I said I was going to finish it last November, I am no where near close -- just beginning to write again....

___________ "Selections" : from, THE ELECTRIC LIGHTHOUSE

Simon would come home smelling like small salty sardines and the vinegar of their solutions. The house smelled as if the drowned had walked out of the sea. He would stumble into the room below when dawn was gray over the water. The door banged open, and I would wake to whispers: "Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable, Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, high in her chamber up a tower to the east guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot."

Inchy would lie with eyes still closed and name the source of their father's quoting (she could not help herself), "Tennyson," she'd say.

And was once again, instantly, deep asleep. And once I could hear his gentle snoring, Elaine would get up to light a candle in the kitchen. Her soft singsong murmurings of liturgy prayers would float throughout the early morning house as she made teas to stave off the conception of children. You must not blame her for this. For, she had watched over the past fifteen years, how her two golden children were invisible to their father's eyes. She had no desire to bring more ghosts into a house already full of apparitions, and so, though she loved my father, she was unwilling to conceive another soul to go unnoticed.

Every morning she spent quietly and devotedly cleaning his clothes and scrubbing his boots with apples to take out the smell. Cooking with heavy spices to relieve our nose of the stale oceanic scent and fill it with meadowsweet and chickweed, the briny sweetness of oysters replaced the brunt affront of tin and packaging adhesive. One early morning as the door banged open and the smell of the sea filled the room I was surprised to see Inchy already awake. Her wide green eyes lit by a dreary fog floating in with the light on the water.

"Do you remember that summer, Lil, when Papa first became the Knight?" Inchy whispered into the pale dark. "All those stories, and only you and I were real."

"Yes," I say. "I remember it was the same summer that the twins were born. And he smiled at them, and cuddled them like the baby rabbits you rescued that spring, but he didn't know they were his, Inch…He couldn't see that." I could hear a stumble in her sister's voice, the cracking of a slow breath.

"What makes us real, Lilia?"

I sigh. "I don't know what makes us real, Inchy."

_________________________________________

Every spring, once the ice thaw had receded and the mud broke free from its hardness, my mother had taken Inchy and me down to the water and tried to teach us how to swim. I was only four and Inchy was six and while Inchy was much more enamored with the tide pools and the tiny blue crabs with their hard shells and speckled claws, I remember I was terrified of the sound the waves made when they crashed and sucked hard against the rocks. I was much more comfortable taking the long walk around the orchard to the sort of beach at the western part of the island which revealed, at low tide, a long slender bar of silvery sand and round shiny pebbles for almost a hundred yards. And so I would take my sister’s hand and lead her down to the very lip of the water, standing barely more than ankle deep and I’d point out the little clams and urchins clinging to rocks and make necklaces and crowns out of the sea grass and loop them with shells. And our mother would walk out to the water and swim as if she could breath the air out of the water. Her long dark hair (like my hair) dripping down nearly to the back of her knees like seaweed silk, like ink; like a fisherman’s net, it caught at angles and movement, it would clasp at arms and legs and she would rise from the wet with tiny bits of shell and sea caught in her hair. Her face would be so pink from the cold water and she seemed so very much alive when she swam. But then she would get this long cold blue look in her eye as she stood in the water with the surf rising up over her ankles and sucking back out again in little currents, pulling the tiny stones and sand from under her feet, and she would close her eyes and feel the pull. A small smile. The longing of the water is always deep and it tugs on your skin like the moon tugs on the tide itself. And then her dark eyes would open, liquid, wide, dull in the gray light reflected from the water in the late afternoon and she would see Inchy and I on the shore. She would catch my eye. Even at four, I could feel the weight of that glance. I refused each year to go into the water. I did not want to be like she was, haunted by it. It scared me. She weighed her options each day, until with great effort she pulled each foot, webbed just a little between each toe and step decidedly, at least for one more day onto the earth and we would walk back home another day together.

I remember climbing into her lap in the evenings. In her rocking chair in the sitting room facing the tall, tall windows overlooking the cliff where it just out over the sea. She sat there every night with one hand playing with the small webbed flesh between my toes or pulling the tangles softly from my hair. She would sing in my ear stories of whales and lobsters and pirates. And always, she looked pale indoors, and she was always quiet.
Nearly a year would pass before the sea finally won. I was five and Inchy almost seven and my mother walked into the sea and did not come back. It was not a swimming day. Inchy and I had not been invited. And we did not think anything of it, for she often took long walks in the morning after breakfast. Early that morning, a cup of coffee from town and thick cream for McEwen’s cows; we kissed mother on her cheek. Can you keep some supper warm, Lil? I had nodded. Supper would sit until breakfast. She would often bring back crab or berries or wild mushrooms in her pockets, bits of fishing twine and large round stones perfect for flinting the Light House. Simon always said she had a knack for finding them: those small pieces of earth that looked like nothing, and yet could start a fire bright enough to sail ships by. He would smile at her with such tenderness, it creased the corners of his mouth. As if she were the sun and the light of her on his face warmed him through to the very blood and bone. Getting ready by the door. Kissed me on the cheek. When will you be back Mummy? Said Inchy. No darlings, I’ll not be back any more.

____________ and much later in the story __________

I was coming around the far corner of the lighthouse from the coop, with the eggs that Elaine had asked for pocketed in my apron, when I heard Jack call after Clover: "Stop, please!" He said. And I stopped, not wanting to intrude. I stayed hidden against the shade of the house, waiting. I leaned in amongst the rose bushes that would climb the wall in those few warm months before the frost came again, for then they would wither and die leaving their strangled brown skeletons still reaching, they were nearly up to the window boxes. I could hear them speaking but could not make out each word, Jack's voice was stern, scolding. But there was this small waver, a small fear that welled up and broke in his inflections.

"You think I don't see how you look at him?" he asked.

"You think he's good enough for Lilia."

"You will never be her, you know. And I don't care, I mean, I love her, of course, but… I don't care where Lilia goes. You know that."
"I don't know what to say, Jack." And then a long moment.

"Promise me you won't leave," He said.

Silence again; then "Wait, Clover…" And she had come around the corner and stopped, caught in my hiding place, barely worthy of the title, I was seen. I stepped forward facing my youngest sister. And Jack following after, having seen Clover and me standing there with nowhere to go, stops.

All three standing with nothing to say to each other. I see Clover's lower lip tremble. She looked long and cool at me, and I saw the tension behind her eyes, knowing I had heard everything. I could see the set to her jaw, and knew she was grinding her teeth. Jack looked at me, pleadingly. But I shake my head, unable to help this time. Not I, the one she most wanted to be; how could I tell her not to go, even knowing what would happen?

But Jack's eyes were wide and for all his height, he appeared small and helpless. And in that moment, I remembered when we had been younger, how he had given us animal names, the way Simon used poetry and myth to mold us. I was Trout. Inchy had been Rabbit and Clover he named, Moth, and she had been offended. But then I don't think she ever realized the reverence of that: that he had always pictured her with wings. Not the white feathery ones belonging to angels, but with the dusty symmetry of moth wings, the breed more delicate and less immortal than those of heaven, the ones that always in the dark to the light, are drawn.

Now here she stood between us. Our golden girl, dressed in the palest fawn-colored silk dappled gray, like the speckled moths of early summer, her wrists trimmed in feathers, her lips an eerie poisonous red. Her face looked so severe, powdered white and white pearls clipped to her virgin ears. She stood before me, meeting my eye, a stranger. And then, decidedly, she walked past and headed towards the trail to the Orchard, to the lawn of the Whitney's, dressed in the clothes Spencer had bought her, eager to be loved; she did not look back, because of Jack, and because she could not promise.

Reflecting on In The Wild

2007-10-18T08:32:00.000-07:00

If you ever feel the need to question the validity of your place in the world, now there are two versions of the same method. "Into the Wild" by Jon Krakauer, his small memoir-biography-novel (of great acclaim) has now become a film due to director Sean Penn's attention and devotion to bringing this screenplay into fruition for several years. The story of Christopher McCandless is a true one and one that will have you questioning where you want to hang your hat in life. It has put me into a moodiness that I haven't been able to shake yet this evening. The film is wonderful, inspiring and saddening. It provides the viewer with a certain kind of insight reticent of John Muir and Thoreau, all apparent heroes of McCandless or his pseudo self: Alexander Supertramp. This movie affected me. It made me crave wilderness and space in a way that I don't think I really know how to do. I spent a week in Oregon in August on the Rogue River winding through the Siskiyou wilderness, sleeping out under the stars, wary of bears and poison oak, but I feel like I -- in my usual fashion, didn't let myself really experience it and this makes me sad when I see a film about a boy/man who desired nothing else than to be made up of his experiences. It makes me wonder what I am wasting, what I am waiting for and why do I do it in the first place. Don't get me wrong, there are moments when I catch myself really smelling the air, really feeling the heat of the sun on my face… and those are the moments that seem beyond all else, the most real. If nothing else this film made me want to find ways to slow life, and time in general, down to a much smaller pace. Can you believe that we are half way through October? That in 5 weeks it will be Thanksgiving? Another month will bring us into the Winter Holidays; Chuanukah and Christmas, and then 6 days after that the year will come to and end? It just makes me wonder what moments have I added to my life experience that are worth rememebering, and if looking back I find my coffer is feeling more empty than I would like, then, what must I seek out to make my heart and life swell and feel full of its own substance. Tonight, all I can say is, Thank You for the life you lived and those you touched and the journey you took, Christopher McCandless, wherever you are.

"The Doors of Perception -- Why Americans Will Believe Almost Anything"

2007-10-10T16:56:00.000-07:00

(Stolen - with every good intention -- from the blog/post of my friend The Earth Spirits of Gaia)

The Doors Of Perception:
Why Americans Will
Believe Almost Anything
By Tim O'Shea

www.thedoctorwithin.com

8-18-1

Aldous Huxley's inspired 1956 essay detailed the vivid, mind-expanding, multisensory insights of his mescaline adventures. By altering his brain chemistry with natural psychotropics, Huxley tapped into a rich and fluid world of shimmering, indescribable beauty and power. With his neurosensory input thus triggered, Huxley was able to enter that parallel universe described by every mystic and space captain in recorded history. Whether by hallucination or epiphany, Huxley sought to remove all controls, all filters, all cultural conditioning from his perceptions and to confront Nature or the World or Reality first-hand - in its unpasteurized, unedited, unretouched, infinite rawness.

Those bonds are much harder to break today, half a century later. We are the most conditioned, programmed beings the world has ever known. Not only are our thoughts and attitudes continually being shaped and molded; our very awareness of the whole design seems like it is being subtly and inexorably erased. The doors of our perception are carefully and precisely regulated. Who cares, right?

It is an exhausting and endless task to keep explaining to people how most issues of conventional wisdom are scientifically implanted in the public consciousness by a thousand media clips per day. In an effort to save time, I would like to provide just a little background on the handling of information in this country. Once the basic principles are illustrated about how our current system of media control arose historically, the reader might be more apt to question any given popular opinion.

If everybody believes something, it's probably wrong. We call that

Conventional Wisdom.

In America, conventional wisdom that has mass acceptance is usually contrived: somebody paid for it.

Examples:

* Pharmaceuticals restore health
* Vaccination brings immunity
* The cure for cancer is just around the corner
* Menopause is a disease condition
* When a child is sick, he needs immediate antibiotics
* When a child has a fever he needs Tylenol
* Hospitals are safe and clean.
* America has the best health care in the world.
* Americans have the best health in the world.
* Milk is a good source of calcium.
* You never outgrow your need for milk.
* Vitamin C is ascorbic acid.
* Aspirin prevents heart attacks.
* Heart drugs improve the heart.
* Back and neck pain are the only reasons for spinal adjustment.
* No child can get into school without being vaccinated.
* The FDA thoroughly tests all drugs before they go on the market.
* Back and neck pain are the only reason for spinal adjustment.
* Pregnancy is a serious medical condition
* Chemotherapy and radiation are effective cures for cancer
* When your child is diagnosed with an ear infection, antibiotics should be given
immediately 'just in case'
* Ear tubes are for the good of the child.
* Estrogen drugs prevent osteoporosis after menopause.
* Pediatricians are the most highly trained of al medical specialists.
* The purpose of the health care industry is health.
* HIV is the cause of AIDS.
* AZT is the cure.
* Without vaccines, infectious diseases will return
* Fluoride in the city water protects your teeth
* Flu shots prevent the flu.
* Vaccines are thoroughly tested before being placed on the Mandated Schedule.
* Doctors are certain that the benefits of vaccines far outweigh any possible risks.
* There is a power shortage in California.
* There is a meningitis epidemic in California.
* The NASDAQ is a natural market controlled only by supply and demand.
* Chronic pain is a natural consequence of aging.
* Soy is your healthiest source of protein.
* Insulin shots cure diabetes.
* After we take out your gall bladder you can eat anything you want
* Allergy medicine will cure allergies.

This is a list of illusions, that have cost billions and billions to conjure up. Did you ever wonder why you never see the President speaking publicly unless he is reading? Or why most people in this country think generally the same about most of the above issues?

to read more, go to : www.thedoctorwithin.com

What A JFK Might Say

2007-10-10T16:42:00.000-07:00

'The New Vision: The speech I want the Democratic Nominee To Give" By Theodore C. Sorensen

On the 15th of July, 1960, Senator John F. Kennedy accepted his party's presidential nomination at the Democratic Convention in Los Angeles. In his remarks, made at a moment of high tension in the cold war, Kennedy asserted that the United States was at "a turning point in history" and called on his listeners to be "pioneers" in a "New Frontier" of "uncharted areas of science and space, unsolved problems of peace and war, unconquered pockets of ignorance and prejudice, unanswered questions of poverty and surplus."

Collaborating with Kennedy on the speech was a thirty-two-year-old aide named Theodore C. Sorensen, to whom Kennedy was known to refer as his "intellectual blood bank." With Sorensen's help, Kennedy would earn a reputation as one of American history's great orators and provide a bold new vision for the nation. Today, we are at another moment of high tension, the result of a disastrous war abroad and division and drift at home.

Like Kennedy, the next Democratic nominee, whoever he or she might be, will have a similar opportunity to form a new vision for America and to reestablish its moral leadership in the world. To encourage such boldness of thinking, we, too, tapped Kennedy's intellectual blood bank. We called Theodore C. Sorensen and asked him to write the speech he would most want the next Democratic nominee to give at the party convention in Denver in August 2008. We requested that he proceed with no candidate in mind and that he give no consideration to expediency or tactics—in other words, that he write the speech of his dreams. Here is the speech he sent us:

"My fellow Democrats: With high resolve and deep gratitude, I accept your nomination. It has been a long campaign—too long, too expensive, with too much media attention on matters irrelevant to our nation's future. I salute each of my worthy opponents for conducting a clean fifty-state campaign focusing on the real issues facing our nation, including health care, the public debt burden, energy independence, and national security, a campaign testing not merely which of us could raise and spend the most money but who among us could best lead our country; a campaign not ignoring controversial issues like taxation, immigration, fuel conservation, and the Middle East, but conducting, in essence, a great debate—because our party, unlike our opposition, believes that a free country is strengthened by debate. There will be more debates this fall. I hereby notify my Republican opponent that I have purchased ninety minutes of national network television time for each of the six Sunday evenings preceding the presidential election, and here and now invite and challenge him to share that time with me to debate the most serious issues facing the country, under rules to be agreed upon by our respective designees meeting this week with a neutral jointly selected statesman.

Let me assure all those who may disagree with my positions that I shall hear and respect their views, not denounce them as unpatriotic as has so often happened in recent years. I will wage a campaign that relies not on the usual fear, smear, and greed but on the hopes and pride of all our citizens in a nationwide effort to restore comity, common sense, and competence to the White House. In this campaign, I will make no promises I cannot fulfill, pledge no spending we cannot afford, offer no posts to cronies you cannot trust, and propose no foreign commitment we should not keep. I will not shrink from opposing any party faction, any special interest group, or any major donor whose demands are contrary to the national interest. Nor will I shrink from calling myself a liberal, in the same sense that Franklin and Theodore Roosevelt, John and Robert Kennedy, and Harry Truman were liberals—liberals who proved that government is not a necessary evil, but rather the best means of creating a healthier, more educated, and more prosperous America. They are the giants on whose shoulders I now stand, giants who made this a better, fairer, safer, stronger, more united America.

By making me your nominee, you have placed your trust in the American people to put aside irrelevant considerations and judge me solely on my qualifications to lead the nation. You have opened the stairway to what Teddy Roosevelt called the "bully pulpit." With the help of dedicated Americans from our party, every party, and no party at all, I intend to mount that stairway to preach peace for our nation and world. My campaign will be based on my search for the perfect political consensus, not the perfect political consultant. My chief political consultant will be my conscience. Thank you for your applause, but I need more than your applause and approval.

I need your prayers, your votes, your help, your heart, and your hand. The challenge is enormous, the obstacles are many. Our nation is emerging from eight years of misrule, a dark and difficult period in which our national honor and pride have been bruised and battered. But we are neither beaten nor broken. We are not helpless or afraid; because in this country the people rule, and the people want change. True, some of us have been sleeping for these eight long years, while our nation's values have been traduced, our liberties reduced, and our moral authority around the world trampled and shattered by a nightmare of ideological incompetence. But now we are awakening and taking our country back. Now people all across America are starting to believe in America again. We are coming back, back to the heights of greatness, back to America's proud role as a temple of justice and a champion of peace.

The American people are tired of politics as usual, and I intend to offer them, in this campaign, something unusual in recent American politics: the truth. Neither bureaucracies nor nations function well when their actions are hidden from public view and accountability. From now on, whatever mistakes I make, whatever dangers we face, the people shall know the truth—and the truth shall make them free. After eight years of secrecy and mendacity, here are some truths the people deserve to hear: We remain essentially a nation under siege. The threat of another terrorist attack upon our homeland has not been reduced by all the new layers of porous bureaucracy that proved their ineptitude in New Orleans; nor by all the needless, mindless curbs on our personal liberties and privacy; nor by expensive new weaponry that is utterly useless in stopping a fanatic willing to blow himself up for his cause. Indeed, our vulnerability to another attack has only been worsened in the years since the attacks of September 11th—worsened by our government convincing more than 1 billion Muslims that we are prejudiced against their faith, dismissive of international law, and indifferent to the deaths of their innocent children; worsened by our failure to understand their culture or to provide a safe haven for the hundreds of thousands of Iraqi refugees displaced by a war we started; worsened by our failure to continue our indispensable role in the Middle East peace process. We have adopted some of the most indefensible tactics of our enemies, including torture and indefinite detention. We have degraded our military.

We have treated our most serious adversaries, such as Iran and North Korea, in the most juvenile manner—by giving them the silent treatment. In so doing, we have weakened, not strengthened, our bargaining position and our leadership. At home, as health care costs have grown and coverage disappeared, we have done nothing but coddle the insurance, pharmaceutical, and health care industries that feed the problem. As global warming worsens, we have done nothing but deny the obvious and give regulatory favors to polluters. As growing economic inequality tarnishes our democracy, we have done nothing but carve out more tax breaks for the rich. During these last several years, our nation has been bitterly divided and deceived by illicit actions in high places, by violations of federal, constitutional, and international law.

I do not favor further widening the nation's wounds, now or next year, through continuous investigations, indictments, and impeachments. I am confident that history will hold these malefactors accountable for their deeds, and the country will move on. Instead, I shall seek a renewal of unity among all Americans, an unprecedented unity we will need for years to come in order to face unprecedented danger. We will be safer from terrorist attack only when we have earned the respect of all other nations instead of their fear, respect for our values and not merely our weapons. If I am elected president, my vow for this country can be summarized in one short, simple word: change. This November 2008 election—the first since 1952 in which neither the incumbent president's nor the incumbent vice president's name will appear on the national ballot, indeed the first since 1976 in which the name of neither Bill Clinton nor George Bush will appear on the national ballot—is destined to bring about the most profound change in the direction of this country since the election of 1932.

To meet the threats we face and restore our place of leadership in the free world, I pledge to do the following: First, working with a representative Iraqi parliament, I shall set a timetable for an orderly, systematic redeployment and withdrawal of all our troops in Iraq, including the recall of all members of the National Guard to their primary responsibility of guarding our nation and its individual states. Second, this redeployment shall be only the first step in a comprehensive regional economic and diplomatic stabilization plan for the entire Middle East, building a just and enduring peace between Israel and Palestine, halting the killing and maiming of innocent civilians on both sides, and establishing two independent sovereign states, each behind peacefully negotiated and mutually recognized borders. Third, I shall as soon as possible transfer all inmates out of the Guantanamo Bay prison and close down that hideous symbol of injustice.

Fourth, I shall fly to New York City to pledge in person to the United Nations, in the September 2009 General Assembly, that the United States is returning to its role as a leader in international law, as a supporter of international tribunals, and as a full-fledged member of the United Nations which will pay its dues in full, on time, and without conditions, renouncing any American empire; that we shall work more intensively with other countries to eliminate global scourges, including AIDS, malaria, and other contagious diseases, massive refugee flows, and the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction; and that we will support the early dispatch of United Nations peacekeepers to halt the atrocities in Darfur. I shall make it clear that we do not covet the land of other countries for our military bases or the control of their natural resources for our factories. I shall make it clear that our country is not bound by any policies or pronouncements of my predecessor that violate international law or threaten international peace.

Fifth, I shall personally sign the Kyoto Protocol, and seek its ratification by the United States Senate, in order to stop global warming before it endangers all species on earth, including our own; and I shall call upon the Congress to take action dramatically reducing our nation's reliance on the carbon fuels that are steadily contributing to the degradation of our environment. Sixth, I shall demonstrate sufficient confidence in the strength of our values and the wisdom and skill of our diplomats to favor communications, negotiations, and full relations with every country on earth, including Cuba, North Korea, Palestine, and Iran. Finally, I shall restore the constitutional right of habeas corpus, abolish the unconstitutional tapping of private phones, and once again show the world the traditional American values that distinguish us from those who attacked us on 9/11. We need not renounce the use of conventional force. We will be ready to repel any clear and present danger that poses a genuine threat to our national security and survival. But it will be as a last resort, never a first; in cooperation with our allies, never alone; out of necessity, never by choice; proportionate, never heedless of civilian lives or international law; as the best alternative considered, never the only. We will always apply the same principles of collective security, prudent caution, and superior weaponry that enabled us to peacefully prevail in the long cold war against the Soviet Union. Above all, we shall wage no more unilateral, ill-planned, ill-considered, and ill-prepared invasions of foreign countries that pose no actual threat to our security.

No more wars in which the American Congress is not told in advance and throughout their duration the true cost, consequences, and terms of commitment. No more wars waged by leaders blinded by ideology who have no legal basis to start them and no plan to end them. We shall oppose no peaceful religion or culture, insult or demonize no peace-minded foreign leader, and spare no effort in meeting those obligations of leadership and assistance that our comparative economic strength has thrust upon us. We shall listen, not lecture; learn, not threaten. We will enhance our safety by earning the respect of others and showing respect for them. In short, our foreign policy will rest on the traditional American values of restraint and empathy, not on military might. In the final analysis, our nation cannot be secure around the world unless our citizens are secure at home—secure not only from external attack, but secure as well from the rising tide of national debt, secure from the financial and physical ravages of uninsured disease, secure from discrimination in our schools and neighborhoods, secure from the bitter unrest generated by a widening gap between our richest and poorest citizens. They are not secure in a country lacking reasonable limitations on the sale of handguns to criminals, the mentally disturbed, and prospective terrorists. And our citizens are not secure when some of their fellow citizens, loyal Islamic Americans, are made to feel they are the targets of hysteria or bigotry.

I believe in an America in which the fruits of productivity and prosperity are shared by all, by workers as well as owners, by those at the bottom as well as those at the top; an America in which the sacrifices required by national security are shared by all, by profiteers in the back offices as well as volunteers on the front lines. In my administration, I shall restore balance and fairness to the national tax system. I shall level the playing field for organized labor. I shall end the unseemly favors to corporations that allow them to profit without competing, for it is through competition that we innovate, and it is through innovation that we raise the wages of our workers. It shames our nation that profits for corporations have soared even as wages for average Americans have fallen. It shames us still more that so many African American men must struggle to find jobs. We will make sure that no American citizen, from the youngest child to the oldest retiree, and especially no returning serviceman or military veteran, will be denied fully funded medical care of the highest quality. To pay for these domestic programs, my administration will make sure that subsidies and tax breaks go only to those who need them most, not those who need them least, and that we fund only those weapons systems we need to meet the threats of today and tomorrow, not those of yesterday. The purpose of public office is to do good, not harm; to change lives, help lives, and save lives, not destroy them. I look upon the presidency not as an opportunity to rule, but as an opportunity to serve. I intend to serve all the people, regardless of party, race, region, or religion. Let us all, here assembled in this hall, or watching at home, constitute ourselves, rededicate ourselves, as soldiers in a new army. Not an army of death and destruction, but a new army of voters and volunteers, in a new wave of workers for peace and justice at home and abroad, new missionaries for the moral rebirth of our country. I ask for every citizen's help, not merely those who live in the red states or those who live in the blue states, but every citizen in every state. Although we may be called fools and dreamers, although we will find the going uphill, in the words of the poet: "Say not the struggle naught availeth." We will change our country's direction, and hand to the generation that follows a nation that is safer, cleaner, less divided, and less fearful than the nation we will inherit next January. I'm told that John F. Kennedy was fond of quoting Archimedes, who explained the principle of the lever by declaring: "Give me a place to stand, and I can move the world."

My fellow Americans—here I stand. Come join me, and together we will move the world to a new era of a just and lasting peace. "

Theodore C. Sorensen worked with John F. Kennedy for eleven years, first as his senatorial assistant and then in the White House as his special counsel and adviser. He is now retired after more than forty years of practicing international law in New York City, and is presently working on his memoirs, to be published in 2008.

The Shift Movie

2007-10-10T16:39:00.001-07:00

Watch. That's All. Hope. That's all. Here's the link: The Shift: The Movie

I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts (deedle lee-dee)

2007-10-10T16:35:00.000-07:00

I have been incorporating more raw into my diet, for psych-phys-spiritual transformational reasons -- and one way is the all encompassing smoothie in the morning: Fresh coconut water, cacao, goji, banana, blackberries, hemp-seed, and supergreens.... I can go-go-go for hours... and experience for the first time in my life what it's like to have the best day ever every day. YOU ARE WHAT YOU EAT! This is a NUMBER # 1 principle. As in Primordial.

Here's what I've found out about my new fave liquid/nut:

The coconut is one of the greatest gifts of this planet.

Coconuts are a prehistoric plant which can survive many months floating at sea.

The coconut is a natural water filter that takes almost 9 months to filter each liter of water. The water travels through many fibers being purified where it is stored away STERILE in the nut itself.

This coconut water is pure clear and is one of the highest sources of electrolytes known to man.

Coconut water is identical to human blood plasma which makes it the universal donor. Plasma makes up 55% of human blood. By drinking coconuts we give ourselves a instant blood transfusion.

Many peoples lives have been saved in 3rd world countries by the coconut IV.

Coconuts in their young stage of growth are the most health enhancing.

Drink at least one a day (I have started out drinking 2 or so).

Coconuts are a great blood purifier.

All About Coconuts as provided by here

For thousands of years, coconuts have been an integral part of the diet in tropical climates, providing the nourishment needed to sustain a healthy life. Coconut milk, derived from the meat of the coconut, is the main ingredient for their ubiquitous curry sauces and desserts. Water from young coconuts is most commonly taken to quench thirst. Coconut oil is used not only for cooking, but also to nourish the skin and hair, and for body massage.

In this region, where traditional Ayurvedic medicine has prevailed for centuries, the coconut is highly respected for its medicinal qualities. Yet, it also has the reputation as an aphrodisiac because of its ability to stimulate the production of hormones in both the male and female. When used as body oil and blended with stimulating spices such as cayenne pepper, it acts as a carrier to circulate the blood and to stimulate the organs, while its aromatic scent enhances the senses. The highly mineral-charged coconut water acts to detoxify the kidneys, which indirectly affects its neighbors, the reproductive organs. Healthy kidneys are believed to promote a vibrant, healthy attitude, which expresses itself through the normal, healthy desire for sexual and emotional fulfillment. In a greater sense, this cycle is the silent call of nature to preserve the species. The coconut also has a symbolic meaning. Its very shape, with its three holes and long protective fibers, is compared to the human head and face, representing its importance as a basic food for mankind. Moreover, these three openings form a triangle, which represent the yin yang symbol of ancient religions.

After years of research, western medicine has just recently confirmed the profound healing properties of coconut, dispelling decades of misleading information that has been fed to the public. According to the results of these findings, coconut's unique form of saturated fat actually helps prevent heart disease, stroke, and hardening of the arteries. Unlike other oils and fats, coconut oil contains a large amount of the fatty acid known as lauric acid, which is the predominant fatty acid found in mother's milk. The lauric acid makes breast milk easily digestible, it strengthens the immune system and protects against viral, bacterial and fungal infections. Studies have shown coconut oil's effectiveness with HIV, SARS, Crohn's Disease, as well as other chronic illnesses. It detoxifies the liver, helps to build lipoproteins, fats and hormones and bile, which is necessary for digestion. Coconut's amazing healing properties are also attributed to reducing the risk of other degenerative conditions such as cancer, osteoporosis, and diabetes. The medium chain fatty acids help to create a healthy digestive tract, which in turn allows for better digestion and absorption of the nutrients in our foods. They also speed up metabolism providing an immediate source of energy while supplying fewer calories than other fats. It is the food of choice for those with hypothyroidism. Coconut oil helps protect against skin cancer and other blemishes and helps prevent premature aging and wrinkling. As a cooking oil, it is highly resistant to heat and spoilage. In fact, coconut oil has been called "the healthiest dietary oil on earth".

Most coconut oil sold in America is refined. The excessive heat, bleaching and chemical solvents used in the refining process creates a thick, yellowish-white product that is tasteless and odorless. Only the organic, extra virgin, expeller or hand pressed coconut oil retains its white color, light texture, and its mild taste and scent of fresh coconut.

Something Else Entirely

2007-10-10T16:06:00.000-07:00

This is so scary, plus, it infuriates me. What right does the FDA have to do this? Well, the Senate subsidies this kind of law-fallacy. It sent me into research mode, trying to find out who would stop this; congress? No. White House (HAHAHAHA). no. New presidential candidates? Only Ron Paul. It also made me think of what David Wolfe says, (paraphrasing to follow) when it gets this bad, ridiculous, silly, prepostrous, impossible; it means that it's going to get better quick. It has to. It has to.

FDA Attempting to Regulate Juice, Herbs, and Supplements as "DRUGS"

this is a short excerpt from a much longer and more detailed article.
there is a link at the end for the full story

It is very clear that the FDA is intending to regulate and ultimately destroy the entire CAM industry (Complementary and Alternative Medicine). Based on the explanations in the FDA's own document, the following things are likely to occur:

* All vitamins, nutritional supplements and functional foods will be stripped of their structure & function claims, reducing them to empty labels where virtually nothing at all is allowed to be stated.

* Vegetable juice will be regulated as a drug. Raw juice retreats will be raided or shut down.

* Growing and selling common garden herbs will get you arrested as a drug dealer.

* Massage oils and handheld massagers will be regulated as "medical devices."

* Yoga props, pilates machines and weight machines will be regulated as "medical devices" and require FDA approval before being sold or used.

* Raw sprouts and other anti-cancer foods will be regulated as drugs.

* Bottled water that "treats" dehydration will be regulated as a drug.

* Massage therapists who use hot rocks as part of their therapy will have the ROCKS regulated as medical devices! (It's true. The FDA will actually look at a pile of rocks and declare, "Those are medical devices!")

* Functional foods, supplements, vitamins and homeopathic remedies will disappear from store shelves, pending FDA "review." (The only things remaining will be processed junk foods and pharmaceuticals, which is exactly what Big Business wants.)

* Therapeutic tea products, such as green tea, will be outlawed and confiscated.

* Vitamin store owners will be arrested and prosecuted for "practicing medicine without a license."

* Citizens owning personal inventories of "unapproved drugs" (vitamins and herbs) may have their homes raided at gunpoint and their inventories confiscated by armed law enforcement agents.

* The importation of herbs and functional foods from all countries may be banned.

check out the whole story Here

Just "Once", Give it a try

2007-10-10T16:01:00.001-07:00

Do yourself a favor -- go and see ONCE, starring singer-songwriters: Glen Hansard & Markéta Irglová it's a small little film with wonderful music. I have known about them as musicians for about 3-4 months before I knew about their Dublin spotted little movie. It will have you singing along before the movie is over: a "real" musical -- not what you will expect, and absolutely lovely.

The Expanding Universe

2007-10-10T15:55:00.000-07:00

This is amazing -- Everyone should watch this. Everyone. Here: Neal Adam's Amazing Expanding Earth is the link to the actual website, but below are some examples to spark your interest.

Debunking Pangea:

Shrinking/Expanding Earth: