Running Away to Safety

     Several years ago when my older son was only twenty-one, I asked a friend in San Francisco if my son could stay with him because he wanted to go out there to see a girl who was a sort of childhood sweetheart, a whole other story, except that she used to play with my son when he was little, because she and her parents lived upstairs from us.  I still have pictures of them playing together.
     While my son was in the bay area, I received a very disturbing phone call from my friend who my son was staying with.  My son had never come home the night before.  I told him without a moment's hesitation, call the police, which he did.  
     That afternoon Oprah was on and it was about twenty-one year olds disappearing and so I burned candles that night against his picture.  Normally I turn the phone off at night for sleep hygiene, but of course I left it on.
     My son called at four A.M., my time, one A.M., California time.  My son escaped without his belongings.  He had been abducted and was being kept against his will.  When his captor finally fell asleep, he made a run for it, not chancing trying to get anything, for fear of waking his abductor.  He ran barefoot to a soup kitchen he remembered going to with this kidnapper and called my friend Ben who he was staying with who went to pick him up.
      He cried a lot and had to come home early, did not have his glasses and Ben sent him home.  He felt bad for having gone with a stranger who said, "we're out of fuel."  Yes, just like on the cop shows, someone pretended to need help to grab someone.  My son felt bad, more than bad for what happened, but I said, "you were so much stronger than I ever was."  I stayed with an abusive monster for several years and could not get away, but he was brave enough to run away, and I was truly impressed and relieved and grateful.
     When I was a substitute teacher, I recall teaching kindergarten and their weekly reader was a drill about safety, things I drilled my own boys on like for example:  what do you do when someone touches you or talks to you in a way that is 'yucky'?  The children shouted in unison, "run away!  Tell someone!"  Another:  someone asks you to help him look for his lost puppy.  "Run away!  Tell someone!"  And so on, you find a gun, a needle, etc...  The answer was always, "run away and tell someone."  I am proud of my older son, because that is what he did.  

Radical Forgiveness

     Sometimes difficult situations and relationships can tempt us into the traps of the ego.  Before we know it, we are swimming in it.  Forgiveness, in terms of the Course in Miracles and the Holy Spirit thought system is corrected perception, asking God to help me see this differently.  Forgiveness is connected to atonement, in Course in Miracles terms, the realization that we were never really separate from God.  This is the 'tiny mad idea.'  The truth is we were always part of God and never separate.
     When I feel hurt by someone and we all know family matters can be some of the hardest, I have to turn it over to God, saying "God help me see this differently."  This concept is radical forgiveness and easier said than done.  Even if forgiveness is hard or impossible in the ego mind, stillness and calm or non-reaction rather than lashing out in a cry for love at our 'enemies' so to speak, for lack of a better word, not a Course in Miracles term, retreating is the best course.  Sometimes it is necessary to take action in some cases.  If someone physically harms you, by all means call the police, press charges, carry mace if you need to protect yourself, but know all the while that love holds no grievances.
     Therefore, live in the world but not of it.  If forgiveness seems impossible, turn it over and let God handle it.  Thy will not mine...
     When I say enemies, the 23rd Psalm of King David comes to mind.  Thou hast prepared a table for me in the presence of my enemies...  I also love the earlier part:  and ye though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for the Lord is thy rod and thy staff.
     To me, the essence of this is trust God.  People have suffered and died saying these very words, and I believe in Heaven.  I really do.  Love to all.  Namaste.

Staying Sane No Matter What

     Not long ago, my younger son brought up a shortcoming of mine as a parent during his childhood, not long ago, because he is only twenty-two years old, and I have owned up to my failing.  I do not feel good about having been a troubled mother, but I know that I was not unique in that way.  Many young single mothers have a lot of personal problems while bringing up kids on their own.  Sometimes it can be very difficult for children to grow up in the care of someone battling with depression.  I know I could have been worse, which does not make it good, but I have made amends, at least tried to, as well as trying to improve and work on myself now, which is all I or anyone has.
     I have a difficult relationship with my own mother.  It is too complicated to even explain, and truthfully she is so different from myself, that I do not understand her.  I do not want to go into it, because some people who read my blog know her, and I do not like to give too much personal information in my blog and at the same time be honest, which is hard.  I realize also that many people in the "Baba world" look up to my mother, and that is wonderful.  I am glad for her, and I do not need spiritual recognition.  I am not in competition with anyone, nor do I wish to be special or a 'spiritual or intellectual giant', lol.  I am just another 'Bozo on the bus'.
     However, I would like to talk about boundaries.  We all need them to stay sane, solid boundaries.  Any psychotherapist would say that these days.  People play games, mess with your head, feel better about themselves if you seem sick.  Yes, this is very toxic stuff, but it happens to be true.  The only way is to not go swimming in the muck of it.  If someone tempts us off balance, it is best to say a mantra, like, God is the light in which I see, Course in Miracles, or I am the light of the world or love holds no grievances, which is from last week's Course in Miracles workbook lesson.  I believe my friend Kathy posted that recently on her fb page.
     Letting oneself hurt is useless. Victory is rising above all the insanity on earth and all the hurt that hurting people put or try to put on us.  We are all the same.  Some people are just a little easier to understand and less complicated.  I do not want to be complicated, just honest, kind, humble and non-pretentious as well as just a really good person.  I am not saying I am, but I do want to be.  I do not want to get angry or strike out or hurt anyone.  Meher Baba said, "never harm any living thing."  This includes animals, which is why I take care of them and love them. Like children, they are innocent, and inside everyone, even adults, there is an innocent hurt child who has to heal.  Namaste.

Taste of Freedom

I longed for a taste of night the dark crescent sliver of the moon 
imprisoned by my thoughts, i found freedom and i knew i was a child of God, and a daughter of light and all fear disappeared into nothingness.  Thankyou for this clarity, and thankyou for this chance to find myself, to find God
amid this illusion.  like hope amid the chaos and confusion, where all this uncertainty dissolves into your own divinity in one moment of clarity under the moon and stars until i find myself on lovestreet in your rosegarden once more in the dawn's light.

Baba Jargon and a Little Light Humor

     Someone asked my brother on his blog, how those who are beyond the fourth plane of consciousness in Meher Baba language or jargon, could still have dillusions.  According to Baba, there are seven planes of consciousness, the seventh being God consciousness or God realization. 
     Since Chris is the one who was asked and it was his blog and his Facebook page, I dare not answer.  I think that would be overstepping boundaries and I do not think I read that particular article so I may be wrong, but nosy as I am I keep checking to see if the guy got his answer.
      Finally I decided to answer on my own blog, since I do not want to appear egotistical, as if I want to be a spiritual or intellectual giant.  LOL  That is kind of an inside joke.  I wish.  
     Well, I am feeling a bit doubtful about Baba for my own personal reasons lately, but growing up with parents who met Baba and talked about him a lot and having read Baba's books and heard talk about Baba all my life, I have heard that lust for example continues all the way to the sixth plane, which according to Meher Baba is very high.  For example, the saints were considered to be on the sixth plane, such as Saint Francis of Assisi, Joan of Arc, and Saint John of the Cross.  I am actually not certain about Saint Teresa of Avila, but I am certain she was extremely advanced.
     So, I realize that the person who asked the question, may never read my blog, but I am trying to be humble in a weird kind of way.  No, I just do not want to take away from someone else.  It is not right.  It would be presumptuous I think.  I do not want to compete with my brother; after all he has more education than I do. 
    Humble in a weird way, funny because my son David's girlfriend once posted a music video on my Facebook page.  I commented "sweet".  David said the guy was kind of creepy in it.  When I said "creepy?", he said "creepy in a sincere way."  I about died.  Only someone in my family would think of something like "creepy in a sincere way."  LOL  
     

Getting Through a Rough Patch

       Sometimes it is hard to keep one's equipoise when shocking events happen.  It is easy to get worried and fearful.  Sometimes it is hard to stop thinking about the future, and wanting what is worrying you to be over and resolved.  I am feeling like that now.  Yet, other aspects of my life are helping me to get out of self and be involved in helping a loved one, but with my disability, sometimes I need help to help myself and others.
     I have many character defects, but I am working on them.  If you ever worked the twelve steps, you found that your character defects were very prominent in your life.  I keep finding more defects of character.  Without trying to beat myself up, I guess the only solution for anyone would be to pray about it.
     The first words to The Road Less Traveled is "life is hard."
Truthfully I never cared for that book although I know for some it is like the Holy Bible, like A Course in Miracles is for me these days.  I do not like to think of life as hard, even if it is.  It takes away all the fun.  I would rather think of it as a roller coaster ride.  
     I have said and still say that I like many others, just have to keep my ducks in a row, but I think for me it is more a feeling of needing to survive, like life and death, do or die, because I do not have a significant other to grab on to the other side if the ship sinks.  However, I am happy the way things are I suppose.  Friends are good to have.  I have friends who are very helpful, so in some ways I know I am alright without someone to "complete me."  I am already complete in and of myself.  My friends are priceless and amazingly kind.  In fact someone took a lot of time out of his day today to help my son and I and for this I am so very grateful.  I am grateful for acts of kindness and hope that I can be kind and helpful too in some way, even by doing Reiki healing or giving a friend some good advice, not that I necessarily have any good advice.  I might just think I do, so tell me if I ever give you unsolicited advice.  LOL
     I know that if I have faith and write a gratitude list on an ongoing basis, knowing in the meantime that it will work out alright and if I try to see through the Holy Spirit thought system, rather than the narrow perspective of my limited ego mind, that I will be able to shift and see things differently.
     Some people who know me, may think I am capable of wigging out.  They may be right, but it takes a lot for that to happen these days, and for the life of me I am trying to maintain equilibrium as we all are.  "What if God was one of us..."  I can't remember who wrote that song, but it is in the soundtrack of Vanilla Sky, one of my all time favorite films.
     Well, my finger is almost healed, so I am back to blogging, although according to my son Ted, only bound books are real writing, we know this is not true, although he is entitled to his opinions.  Love to all.
       

Aligning and Healing the Chakras

     As a Reiki Master, I do energy healing and chakra work.  I also do yoga for exercise and relaxation and meditation for inner healing, calming the mind, enabling me to live better on life's terms and giving me the ability to better be with my feelings and what is.  Acceptance is the key.
     One can sit in lotus or Indian style position with hands outstretched and eyes closed inhaling through the nostrils in and out slowly.
     Visualize the root chakra at the base of the perineum, strengthening the point of groundedness.  The color is red or black.  
     Imagine a string of purple thread leading up through the second chakra below the navel, the sacral chakra, color orange.  Healing this chakra and opening it enables creativity and sexuality to be able to express themselves.  Just breath into this chakra and on up through the string to the solar plexus.
     This chakra is for energy and digestion.  The color is yellow.  When someone attacks me, I feel it here, like the wind knocked out.  Breath into this third chakra with light and healing energy in every single breath.
     Continue opening and renewing each chakra as they come together into harmony and unison at once.  The string continues up into the heart chakra, of which healing pertains to broken heartedness, grief, love, compassion, color green.  Open up the chest wide, breathing into the lungs near to the heart, imagining every single breath healing your heart, opening your heart to love yourself and others, even those less likely, to feel compassion.  Heal yourself first to heal others.  Let all the threads that bind this chakra into despair come undone and untangled, clearing this space.
     Now you continue with your eyes softly closed to the fifth chakra, the throat chakra, blue.  Open the throat, repeating aloud yum several times fast, arching the head and neck to open the throat which governs communication as well as singing.  Heal this chakra so that you may have a voice to express yourself, to assert yourself and to express love and ideas and truths that are important, not stifling these.
     As you continue breathing through the nose, progress upward, the purple thread leading to the forehead or third eye chakra, the sixth chakra, color indigo or violet-purple.  Look upward towards the third eye with eyes closed.  Here as this chakra opens, you may find great insight and even more knowledge than you ever expected.  If only beginning to meditate, do not expect anything.  Never have expectations, only be with what is and what you see, paying no mind to it.  There is no need for worry or fear, only healing of insight, opening any blockage that would block clarity.  True sight is not physical sight.  One can live without physical eyes to see, but the third eye sees truth.
     Now, continue your meditation up to the crown chakra, the top of the head, the halo, the seventh and highest chakra, not to be misconstrued as the seventh plane of consciousness, but the highest chakra.  This opening and healing of the seventh chakra or crown chakra will bring holiness, spirituality, greater compassion, the color white or gold, maybe even both at once.  You may even see these colors.  
     Eventually you may want to come back to your gross or physical rather than subtle body and breath deeply, bowing to honor the light that is within you and in others then outwardly, hands in namaste position.  Namaste, bhaghwan.

Perspective of a Single Mother Struggling

     I do not usually like to discuss politics much, but I will say that I am a conservative Democrat.  When I say this I mean that I am a liberal but not as liberal about some things as some perhaps.
     Last night I wrote my Senator Lindsay Graham about the budget cuts the present governor has allowed which effect the South Carolina Commission for the Blind, which is near and dear to me, since my father, myself and both of my sons have been their clients and have received their training and certain aids for the visually impaired,  state funded.
     I have been hearing different people's political views and find them really confusing.  I do not mean to offend anyone, but I do not understand the little to no government thing.  I guess if you have not had to bring up kids as a single parent on a very low income, you can complain about people like us who leach off the system.  
     Same with Republicans and the 'Tea Party Movement'.  Half those 'Tea Party' participants are probably on some sort of assistance whether it be Social Security or Supplementary Social Security, Medicare and/or Medicaid.  I admit to being on all that, being blind, but I am not going to 'Tea Party' conventions.
     Okay, so I have probably made at least one person mad.  Well, in reality I always listen to other people's political views and rarely get to say much about it.
      Maybe they have a point.  I am not saying I am right.  I just do not think I could survive without the government, so I guess that is why I do not relate well to the Libertarian thing.
     I suppose it is because I cannot make a living.  I am not saying I do not have talent and some skills, but I have not been able to make a living due to my limited vision.  The eye doctor told me I could not drive at night when I was only thirty-two because RP is progressive, and that is about when my marriage ended.  I worked in my ex-husband's construction business doing the books and so forth as well as taking care of young children, shopping, cleaning and cooking, not to mention the dog and cub scouts, soccer, etc..  
     My younger son was in kindergarten when Ron and I split, so I went to the primary school and said to the principle, "I need a job.  I will do anything.  I will work in the lunch room.  I will be a janitor.  I just need a job.  Please!"
     She said, "have you thought about substitute teaching?"
     I said, "no, I haven't.  How do I go about it?"
     She said, "go to human resources in Conway and apply."  So, I did and I became a substitute teacher.  
     For several years I alternated between working at a small health food store and substitute teaching, often at my child's school.  Our schedules were compatible and I did not have to drive at night.  Daycare 'sucked'.  I arrived to pick up my six year old to find him getting beat up without his glasses on and the incompetent teenage baby sitter doing nothing.  I literally had to pry the boys off my child, and when I reprimanded the other boys for hurting my boy, I got reprimanded by the daycare owners for scolding someone else's child.  Obviously they did not care about my child, so I never let him go back.  Instead, I arranged for the bus driver to drop my son off at the health food store where I worked and this I had to get an okay from my boss for, but it worked out.  He would stay with me until I got off work.
     I have to say that even with a job, I could not support a family and my children qualified for Medicaid.  It was a good thing because they both had some serious childhood illnesses.  David had severe asthma from the age of nine on requiring his grandmother to have to drive him to the hospital in the middle of the night often, and whooping cough at the age of fourteen.  I once drove him to the hospital in middle of the night myself (even with bad vision when I used to drive) with an ear infection causing great pain.  Teddy had a history of seizures and other problems that started when he was sixteen.
     Then I went back to school, but that is a whole other story in and of itself, a bit unfortunate.  
     All of this, my life in essence is the reason I am writing American Boys, partly autobiographical, about a single mother bringing up two boys in today's society, poverty and war.
     However, the story would be boring if it were the same exactly to my life, at least for me, because I need some escape, part of why I write I suppose.
In my novel, the mother, Lizzy, has no disability and works very hard, drives and is very capable and tough I suppose.
Also, they live up north, rather than down south like us.
     However, both sons have a unique disability.  The older son, Daniel, a musician like my son, has retinitis pigmenosa like us, but in my novel he is the only family member with it.  The other boy who is a few years younger and in high school, a freshman to be exact, has autism, or at least a touch of it.  It is not for certain.  It is just one doctor's opinion.
          

Hugo, What a Great Film, Stunning Just Stunning

     Today I saw the Martin Scorsese film on DVD, Hugo, a bit Harry 'Potteresque', but easier to follow.  I sat right up to the television so I could see.  I cried at the end.
     If you have not seen it, it is also very Charles Dickens in style, reminded me of Oliver Twist.  It had the orphan theme.  It was so well made, set in Paris after WWI.  It had so many dimensions, films within the film, dreams within the dream, machine-like and human at once, surreal and real at once.
      It has humor, pathos, romance and is absolutely exquisitely beautiful to watch in its gorgeous cinematography.  Every scene is like a classic Rembrandt painting.
     The so-called bad guys, like the policeman, end up good in the end, all good, and so cleverly written as far as dialogue.
     The little boy with his brown hair, bangs and blue eyes looks so much like my son David as a little boy of that age, eight, nine or ten.
     Next to The English Patient, it is my all time favorite film now, right up with Patch of Blue and Mildred Pierce.
     On a note of humor, whenever I mention The English Patient, it is like Seinfeld when Elaine hated that movie.  They will say, "oh the one with the guy in bed sick the whole time?," or "all I remember was someone in a cave with the flashlight going out," but I saw it again recently and it is truly a classic.
     If you have not yet, I strongly suggest you see Hugo.  I also strongly suggest you do not see Hangover II.
     I only took one film class under Theater where we watched movies, listened to lectures and wrote reports about, when I attended Lander University, my freshman year.  That was when I was introduced to Buster Keaton.  There is a scene in Hugo where the two kids go to a Buster Keaton movie, and the hanging from a clock scene was another theme relayed in Hugo.  Interesting film making.  My brother has a degree from the University of Southern California in film making, and worked in the film industry and made many films as well as a feature film called The Setting Sun, which he wrote and directed.  He is the film expert.  Now he also has a Masters Degree in philosophy.  I just like to dabble a little bit in everything.
     Mostly this film made me cry in the end.  It was very touching.  Beautiful movie I must say, at least in my opinion. I hear the critics gave four stars and it won some awards for 2011 films.  Yay!

Should the Europeans Be Taking Away the Jobs?

     I realize what I am about to say, some may strongly disagree with or even get mad at me, but I am not here to be a people pleaser.  This article is more a question to think about, rather than a blank statement.  In other words, it is only to question your mind, not to condemn.
     Living in a tourist town in a poor southern state where the unemployment rate is high along with domestic violence and other issues I will not discuss today, I see a lot of Eastern European young people, especially girls, who by the way are tall and skinny, have sharp features and look like models or the bad guys in 
Hostile II, working everywhere especially during tourist season.  I know that it is not easy to get into this country on any kind of work visa unless you are from a rich family or foreign mafia or something.  So, no, I do not welcome them with open arms.  For one thing my very intelligent, articulate and handsome son who was born and raised here, had to search and search for a job and then seek employment elsewhere.  
     You may ask why do I not gripe about the Mexicans.  Well, first of all, Mexico is a poor country with a lot of corruption and problems.  The Mexicans take lesser jobs for lesser money.  Also, I think that due to racism, the white Europeans may get preferential treatment even though some do not speak any better English than Mexicans.
Also, Mexico is part of North America and one of our two border countries.
      Should the United States really let foreigners take the jobs?  The U.S. is a poor country in some ways now due to our deficit.  We have had to borrow from China.  We are drained by the wars we have recently had.  Times are bad.  Budget cuts are everywhere and Americans are suffering from it.
     Just before President Obama was elected president, the stock market crashed on Wall Street, with Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.  People have lost their 42K's and their homes.
     In fact things are so bad in this country, children from inner cities like Chicago are being adopted by foreigners in countries like Germany.  I suppose it is good the kids are getting adopted, but I think all this is a wake up call.
     An American cannot just go where they want and get a job.  Other countries have policies about foreigners not working and taking jobs away.  So, my question is, should we be allowing the Europeans to come take jobs away here?
Just wondering.  You are free to tell me I am wrong if you think so.  It is just a thought I had.

Why I Like the TV Show Criminal Minds So Much

     As anyone who knows me well knows, my favorite television show is Criminal Minds.  I would like to tell you why I like this show, although I admit it has given me nightmares once or twice.
      First of all, I think it is really well written and planned out.  It is about an FBI profiling team who help the police solve crime investigations and find the unsub, unknown subject.
     All of the characters are very real, human and likable, the seven FBI agents.
I especially like the character of Derek Morgan, cocky, but compassionate and caring and at the same time almost a super hero.  Then there is Erin Hutchner, who never smiles and is always very stoic and loves his son Jack.
I like the young brainy one, Spencer Reed, who is absolutely adorable.  In the story his mother is schizophrenic and in an institution, but ever so often, she is part of the show.
     The older guys have varied between Agent Gideon and Agent David Rossi.  They are both very believable, incredibly sophisticated and totally well written characters.
     I like the fact that they have compassion even for the unsub, in certain situations depending on the circumstances.  There is always a quote at the end in one of their voices by someone such as Ghandi, Eckhart Tolle, Helen Keller, Guru Mai, Martin Luther King, Albert Einstein, etc., and it is always inspiring, the quote, to me anyway.
     The women who are part of the FBI team are also very strong, intelligent and sophisticated and as capable as the men, although realistically maybe not as physically strong. The character Penelope Garcia, is one of my favorites, the one who does the computer research and technology.  She has this huge heart and the things on the screen make her cry.  She is always colorful and wild in her style.  You can tell that she has this crush on Derek Morgan, and he has a soft spot for her.
     I realize it is off the charts in the violence it often suggests, but that is not shown of course, because this is television and I would not be able to stand that, but if you can see past that, it really is a good show all in all.
     I have really learned a lot as well from watching it, like what Stockholm Syndrome is based on a phenomenon that occurred in a bank robbery in Stockholm, Sweden, where the hostage comes to identify with their captor, the reason for women often not leaving in domestic abuse situations, either mental or physical.
     It is kind of the concept of where when someone is finally released from captivity, they do not want to go, because they know nothing else, such as situations of long term kidnapping, Patti Hearst, hostage situations where the hostage will actually fall in love and marry their captor.  It is the reason why in abusive relationships, the dominant person in the relationship, keeps the abused separate from family and friends, making the abused see the abuser as the good guy.  It is a type of brainwashing or a result of mental abuse and browbeating in many cases.
      I shared recently that I feel that  Stockholm Syndrome is what kept me with a very abusive partner throughout most of my thirties, a time when I wish I had cultivated a better life for myself and my children and had a chance to be with someone better.  I will give myself a bit of credit for working through the whole time and going back to school as well, but I will not give myself more credit than deserved nor beat myself up about it.  I have already done enough of that.
     I suppose I have summed it up in a nutshell.  I realize that crime shows are not everyone's cup of tea, but I think Criminal Minds is an excellent show.     

Writing and in London Alone and the Emily Dickinson Doll

     As some of my readers know I very much like Stephen King.  I listen to his books all the time.  They are better than the movies they make from them.  He has such style and humor.  As a writer, I suppose he is one I really look up to and would like to be influenced by, not in genre exactly, but in style.  Although, come to think of it, writing horror might be fun, morbid I know, but no more morbid than life.
    I like his epilogues where he talks about himself.  One uncanny thing, I have in common with him besides bad eye-sight (he has macular degeneration, why he wears such thick glasses, the exact opposite of RP which causes tunnel vision and eventually loss of macular or central vision, it causes only peripheral vision and no central) is the fact that I once went off my anti-depressant cold turkey in England and had side effects of that.  Stephen King went off an anti-depressant in England cold turkey as well with major side effects.  For me the side effect was mainly a splitting headache.
     I only was in London once for three weeks.  I went to see a boyfriend who was mean and spent no time with me, so I went to museums alone, rode the bus alone, the tube, had coffee alone, went to Oxford Street alone, shopped alone, had lunch alone, walked the streets alone, went to the airport twice alone and lost my luggage by leaving it on the tube, stayed longer to get it back, drank alone, even looked up alcoholics anonymous in the London telephone book I was so bored and desperate, well not really bored, but certainly lonely.  That is why I liked the episode of Sex and the City where Carrie Bradshaw played by Sarah Jessica Parker spends the whole time in Paris alone, ends up standing up her own book signing party for a total creep, also older and foreign like my ex-boyfriend, and she ends up getting slapped by him, and I got slapped by my ex-boyfriend too, only I did not have Big to come save the day.  Since then I have always been with nice men and some like Big saving the day once in a while.  I told my mom I have never been with anyone so mean or even close since then.  At least I learned my lesson.
     So back to writing, Stephen King says the writer should love to write as much as the reader loves to read.  If you asked me why I write, I would tell you, "because I like to write."  Recently I was asked how I have the time to do all this writing.  I told her "because I have no life", but the truth is I should have said "what am I supposed to be doing? or how do you have time to paint and have a shop, etc.?", but I do not want to be nasty, just resentful later.  LOL
     I have a way of putting myself down and selling myself short sometimes.  I guess I feel that my work was not being taken seriously or something.  Perhaps I have a way about myself, that I joke about myself so much, that others may not take me seriously when I want to be taken seriously.  I do not know.  Maybe they take me seriously, but it really does not matter what people think.  I have seen my number of facebook friends go down and up and down.  I cannot worry about what people think, except that I do want people to know or believe that I am basically a good person, a law abiding person, etc., and that I have a good relationship with my family and friends.  I guess that is where my values are at, family and friendship values.  I suppose it might not be fair to say that I am not taken seriously, because I am sure most people do take me seriously.  Truthfully, I am sure they are not really thinking about it.  They have their own stuff to think about as we all do, so I may be making much to do about nothing, except that this was how I felt.
     Earlier I tried to remember another great writer, Joyce Carol Oats, the author of The Grave Digger's Daughter. That was a heavy book, but I really enjoyed it.  I also enjoyed her short stories, one about Mark Twain working in a veteran's hospital, and it is very gory, but this guy who has lost his leg, he refers to as his beloved and takes him home.  Another was about this married couple who want to buy a life size robot of a real historical person.  The husband wants Vincent van Gogh, but the wife wants Emily Dickinson, who serves tea and writes little poems, but the husband tries to rape the Emily Dickinson doll, only to find she has no female genitalia, being a doll, so he gets mad, but the Emily Dickinson doll has feelings and, the wife and she run away together leaving the husband all alone.  Crazy story, I know, but really well written and weird for lack of a better word.

Dreams

     Last night I had a recurring dream where I try to move to California, northern I think and even get hired at two places, a health food store and an adjacent gallery, but for some reason I just cannot stay.  It seems ideal, but I always feel alone in these dreams.
     I also dream sometimes that I have my old house back, the one my ex-husband built.  Those dreams are getting fewer and far between.  They used to be intense to the point of trying to throw the new residents out, insisting that it is my house not theirs, sort of like that sad movie, The House of Sand and Fog, the movie made from the Oprah Book Club best seller.  
      That movie was so sad for everyone.  I was so angry when the police shot the man's son.  I was so upset by that that I used to draw pictures, blood and all of it, because I was trying to process the anger I felt about it.  I guess at that time I had a resentment towards the police in general because of the way they get away with brutality with barely a slap on the wrist or nothing at all, like the macing in New York on the Wall Street protesters by the N.Y.P.D..
      It is not necessary to have a big house to be happy though.  Some people have no place at all to live.  I have been in that situation once for a short time, and it is not a good feeling at all.  It is like having no place to go to feel like you have a haven.
     I read a wall post yesterday that said "God can rewrite the past."  I did not comment, because I was wondering "how?"  I do not like to seem like I am being argumentative or challenging.  I am sure it makes sense to someone or maybe me if someone explained it to me.  
I mean explain that to the concentration camp survivor, or the Native American on the reservation.
     There is a large chunk of my life that I do not regret, but I regret the way that I handled it, although I may have known no other way then.  Now my boundaries are so strong that it keeps me separate almost, and it makes me feel "am I really doing any better than before, now that I am not co-dependent?"
     Sometimes progress is not perfection I know.  The one who sees the less improvement is oneself.
      Dreams are interesting.  I would like to have a dream book, although these days all you have to do is google anything, but it is fun to be old fashioned.
     The thing I like about reading the computer though, is that I can enlarge and make the font as big as I want to read and write.  Books come in large print but not this large.
     The next book I am going to read once I finish the Stephen King book I am listening to is The Bridge: The Life and Rise of Barack Obama by David Remnick.
     Another dream I have that recurs is one about a big house that is in disarray, chaotic, like a million dishes.  Last night I dreamed I had ordered about every herb there is in raw bulk, plastic bags containing them.  It was strange.  I did not even know what to do with them.
     I suppose the chaos would represent something I cannot figure out or some confusion in my subconscious mind.  Maybe it is a fear of chaos or a need to be in control at least of my own life if nothing else.  So much is going on with a loved one now that I cannot do anything about, and it makes me frustrated but I have to let go of it, because I could not handle it anymore, but it seems the professionals are doing better but not as well as I would like.
    Well enough dream analysis for one day I guess.  Love to all.  I welcome your comments, questions and suggestions.  Namaste.

Food, Warm or Cool?

     Chopra talks a lot about eating and drinking warming foods, like ginger, cooked warm food, cayenne, black pepper, rosemary, thyme and sage.  The idea is to give the body more warmth.  He does not talk much about the opposite, too much heat, as they say in acupuncture.
     When I worked at the California Acupuncture College in the Westwood area of L.A., I ordered the text books.  I had to call the instructors to find out what books they were using for the next term.  My ex-husband was a student there and had handed me down this job, because he needed to focus on school, but then for financial reasons (we had one child already) he felt he had to quit to make money doing construction.  The tuition was very expensive.
     One book used was called, Staying Healthy With the Seasons.  Being easier reading for me than say The Shanghai Text which we ordered all the way from China, although I think there was a book company in Boston that carried it, I read some of Staying Healthy With the Seasons.  Supposedly, when there is heat in the blood, it is better to eat more cooling foods like cool drinks, fruit and cool soups.  I do not think they suggest anything be too cold though, but that would rule out ice cream, my favorite and many people's.  
     

Lizzy One Year Later

 author's note:  To catch you up, one year has gone by.  Nicolas is still struggling to make friends but has made friends with one boy from school with similar interests who also has trouble fitting in but is very smart like Nick.

     Lizzy made up with her parents and they sent Daniel to Berkeley School of Music in Boston.  

     It is September, 2008, and Lizzy is planning to vote for Barack Obama, the Illinois Senator.  She is still working at the 'Water Well' and now going out with Jim Wallace, the owner, over which she and Charlie have parted company once and for all, at least as far as she is concerned.

     Lizzy's parents of course are voting for McCain, but Lizzy has decided that she will not let their differences get between them.

     She did not take Dr. Epstein's advice and move to the city, but chances are she will move in with Jim closer to Burlington, a fairly big city.  She does not want Nicolas to fall into the wrong crowd, shielding him all the while wanting him to have friends.

     The TV was on in the bar as Lizzy served drinks quickly.  Jim was helping behind the bar this afternoon.  Happy hour was busy today.

     Sarah Palin, the governor of Alaska, who was John McCain's running mate is talking about "a bridge to nowhere," and "I sold that plane on EBay", using phrases like "you bet ya," and "ya know", in a twangy mid-western accent.

    "Oh God," Lizzy rolled her eyes still pouring drinks for the men at the bar.  She went to change the channel to sports, when Tommy, a regular having had too much to drink said, "you liberal hippies and your ultra-liberal media brain

w-" in his strong New England accent.

    "Stop, right there, Tommy, I think you had enough to drink.  I'm calling you a taxi."

     "Taxi?" drawled Tommy, "there's only one o' those around here it's gonna cost me a hundred dollars to get home."

    "Then you drink coffee and I'll drive you home.  You don't talk to Lizzy that way."

    "Aw, come on," Tommy drawled on in his slow drunken voice.  Jim hated this part of running a bar, especially one in the middle of nowhere.  He had a policy of not calling the cops unless it was absolutely necessary.  They all knew each other.  It was like Cheers at the 'Water Well.'  

    Lizzy just kept working in her black hooded sweatshirt and jeans, hair in braid pulled back.  College basketball was blaring on the television screen.

     On the walls were old license plates and vintage posters of stars like Marilyn Monroe, Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, Ella Fitzgerald, Cole Porter and there was an old vintage jukebox and a fireplace which was going, as well as hunting trophies and vintage knives on the walls.  Old apothecary bottles lined the back shelf of the bar under the shelf with the stained glass, blue martini glasses and high end liquors like Grey Goose vodka and Bombay gin.  The cheaper stuff was down lower and they sold several types of beer and wines.

     Just then, Charlie also drunk, comes crashing through the door almost falling down.  "Oh geesh, what is this?  Mercury in retrigrade?" Jim sighed.

     Tommy stood up just then and Jim began to go around the counter expecting trouble.  

    "Hey Charlie", drawled Tommy, "you another ultra-liberal media, brain wa-"

Before Jim could get to either of them, Charlie punched Tommy out and went to punch Jim, but Jim blocked him and dragged him outside.

    "Should I call the po-" began Lizzy still behind the bar and everyone gawking at the fight, some cheering and shouting.

    "No, I got this," Jim yelled back.  She ran over to put a cool towel over Tommy's forehead.  His nose was bleeding and he was out cold.  "I apologize", she looked up, "we don't usually have this kind of craziness."

    A costumer named Rob came over to help her.  "Here I'll get one of the other guys to drag him to the back.  He's OK.  He probably was ready to pass out anyway, poor geezer."  Another man came over to help him, and Lizzy ran outside to see what was going on with Jim and Charlie.  They were punching each other although Jim was doing better being sober, but Charlie was getting a few in.  

     "Stop, you guys!  What the hell is wrong with you guys?  Stop!  Charlie, get out of here or get in here and drink some coffee and sober the hell up!"

     "I don't want no coffee, damn it!," yelled Charlie.  "I would have given you the world, Elizabeth and you settle for this all time major loser!!!  What the hell?!!"  Jim had him in a head lock now.

     "Stop both of you or I'll call the cops and have you both go to jail!  You too Jim, damn it!  What are you, a couple of neanderthal rednecks?!!!

     They seemed to not hear her.  "OK", she said.  "I'm counting to five, one, two..."

    Jim let go and held Charlie back with his hand.  He was sober and knew better than to provoke Charlie all the more with a verbal come back.  At that point with the threat of the cops coming, Charlie jumped in his car and left, not a good thing considering  his drunken state.

     Lizzy helped Jim stagger back in.  His nose and lip were bleeding.  She went to get an ice pack.  Everyone cheered when he came in like he had won the big fight.
     Jim just said, "you should see the other guy."  They laughed.

     By this time Tommy was asleep in the kitchen.  Lizzy hoped this was the end of the drama.  Maybe if she stayed with Jim they should sell the bar and start a different kind of restaurant like a family restaurant that did not serve alcohol or a bed and breakfast.  That was it.  They could take the money, buy and remodel her big farmhouse she rented, into a bed and breakfast.  That is if Jim would agree to it, and their relationship became completely solid.  She was forty-six now, too old for this child's play.