Are you a genius?

This is quite amazing..

If you see this lady turning in clockwise you are using your right brain. If you see it the other way, you are using left brain. Some people do see both ways, but most people see it only one way.

Supposedly, if you try to see it the other way and if you do see, your IQ is above 160 which is almost a genius. Then see if you can make her go one way and then the other by shifting the brain's current.

So, how did you do? Is there a trick to getting her to switch directions? Is this interesting, or what? Initially, I could make her change direction fairly easily, and now I can't anymore. If anyone figures out the "trick" let me know.

I found a long commentary of people trying to figure it out here. If you get really fascinated, or really frustrated, or both, you could go and see what they have to say about how they got it to work (or not work) for them.

I got an award for one of my blogs!

Bob over at Black Holes and Astrostuff, who by the way has a really nifty blog about space, stars, comets, and other cool astronomical stuff, has honoured me with the "Community Blogger Award" for Way Cool Pictures. It is awarded to people who reach out and make the blogging community a better one. He gave it to me because the pictures I post always make him smile. Thank you Bob.

I would like to pass on this award to Marilyn's Non-Violent News Page. I really appreciate her dedication to making the world a better place to live in.

What color is YOUR aura?

I found this nifty thingy at Towards 2012, and when I took the quiz and here is what it said about me. I think there might be some truth to it, maybe rage does drive me.... It doesn't feel like it, feels more like fear... but I dunno. It's certainly something to think about.

I like the part of adventures, and travels, that seems to be right in line with what I've been thinking a lot about lately. I'm not at all sure about the dancer, boxer, surgeon part though. So... What color is YOUR aura? Go take the test yourself, and tell me what it says.

Your Aura is Red

You have a high level of emotion. This can mean passion, but it can also mean rage. Usually, you don't take these emotions out on others. You just use them as motivation - and it works! The purpose of your life: embracing all the wonders of the life, lots of travels, and tons of adventures Famous reds include: Madonna, Marilyn Monroe, Jennifer Lopez Careers for you to try: Dancer, Boxer, Surgeon

What Color Is Your Aura?

An Interview with Friar Tuck

On the prosperity project this month, we are doing The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire, and one of our tasks is to find our archetypes. One of the ones I chose was Friar Tuck, here's why:

An interview with Brother Tuck by Marian Fitzwater -

Difficult as it may be to tell, but Brother Tuck is a white monk of the Cistercian order. His thick red stockings are as brash as his matching skirts tucked knee-high into a scarlet girdle that stretches forever around his enormous girth; and his face is as round as the moon and as rosy as any small child's in the winter sunshine.

His piggy-eyes twinkle out from underneath a ring of fuzzy ginger hair that skirts warily around a shaven bald patch before he blows out his cheeks, folds his palms, closes his eyes and blesses me as sonorously as any bishop.

A few moments later, after a lark has added its own song. I ask him: 'I believe you come from the abbey of St. Mary of the Fountains near Ripon in Yorkshire?'

His eyes begin to twinkle again: 'Yes, it was becoming too crowded inside the monastery. A lot of monks had quit St. Mary's of York to come to Fountains Abbey so I decided to leave and form a cell of my own.'

'You live on your own here in the woods?'

'A cell of one suits me just fine, though I keep a few dogs for hunting.'

We sit down together under a fair and stately oak, one of many set deep in Harlow Wood. Nearby rises a spring of clear water, flowing hurriedly away, stretching across the field and down into the valley between the woods. This is the place where Brother Tuck has made his home and has called it Fountainsdale. Ideal for a hermit, the area is densely forested and criss-crossed by streams fed from the fountain spring.

'The monks of the Cistercian order usually build their abbeys far away from people, for they believe in solitude and isolation from the world, don't they?' I ask him.

'Yes, you are correct.... ' (He goes on to explain the history of the order.)

Although you live as a hermit, is it not true that you are very friendly with Robin Hood?'

His eye suddenly brightens: 'I wouldn't say very friendly, well acquainted - yes. We had a little argument when we first met and he hasn't taken any liberties with me since. Must be three winters past since we first crossed paths - or streams to be more precise. Would you like to hear the merry tale?' he asks with a chortle, and we settle comfortably under the oak tree while I listen to Brother Tuck's story.

'The flowers were fresh and gay that morning in May, and I was contemplating by the side of the stream. Because of the many outlaws that lived hereabouts, I wore a leather coat and a cap of steel with a sword and buckler by my side - becomes me quite well, I think.

Well, this fellow comes strolling by, grand as you please, carrying a bow with a sheaf of arrows at his belt - I only learned later that he was the outlaw named Robin Hood.

'Good fellow,' the fellow greeted me, 'as you can see I am a weary man. Will you carry me over this water for Saint Charity?'

I thought I might do a good deed - not having done one for a while - so I lifted him on my back and carried him over the stream. Good deed done, I drew my long sword and ordered this cheeky fellow: 'Carry me back again, bold outlaw, or you shall have some of this!'

Speaking neither good nor ill, in fact nothing at all, Robin carried me back to the other side, the water reaching a span above his knees. But as soon as he had dropped me off his back, Robin drew his own sword and ordered me to carry him back again! Well this time, when we came to the middle of the stream, I just threw him in. 'Now choose, fine fellow, whether to sink or swim,' I told him.

I swam to a wicker wand to help me out of the water while he swam to a bush of broom. When he had climbed on to the bank he let fly with an arrow at me but I deflected it with my steel buckler. 'Shoot on, fine fellow,' I informed him. 'You will not hit me if you shoot all this summer's day.'

He shot a few more arrows without hitting me so we took to our swords and bucklers and fought with might and main. Must have been ten o'clock in the morning when we started and by two in the afternoon Robin had sunk to his knees begging for respite: 'A boon, a boon, curtailed brother! I beg it on my knee!' he cried. 'Give me leave to set my horn to my mouth and blow three blasts.'

'That I will do,' I told him. 'And I hope you blow so hard that your eyes fall out.'

He blew three blasts and fifty yeomen with bows bent came ranging over the lee.

'Whose men are these who come so hastily?' I demanded.

'These men are mine, brother,' said Robin Hood, 'and what is that to you?'

'A boon, a boon!' I cried. 'The same as I gave to you. Allow me to set my fist to my mouth and whistle three times.'

'A whistling fist can do me no ill,' he said, so I whistled three times and my fifty savage dogs came running up to me. 'Here's a dog for every man,' I told the outlaw, 'and you are matched with me.'

'God forbid that should ever be,' said Robin. 'I'd rather be matched with three of your curs than matched with thee.'

I blew a loud whistle again and all the dogs couched down in a row. 'What now fine yeoman?' I asked him.

'Come, good brother, let us agree. If you will forsake Fountainsdale every Sunday throughout the year, I will pay you a fee of ten shillings; and if you will go with me to Nottingham on every holy day throughout the year I'll provide you with new garments.'

'It seems a fair bargain,' I said, 'By Saint Charity I agree.'

And that's how I became acquainted with Robin Hood'

After a few moments he adds: 'That happened three winters past and apart from helping Robin Hood and his merry band on holy days I have never moved from this place. For there is no earl, or lord, or knight who could make me move from Fountainsdale.'

Gaining his feet with surprising agility for a big man, Brother Tuck courteously helped me to mine. After escorting me as far as the Nottingham road he wished me a safe journey home and bid me farewell.

When he turned back towards his own home, his wooded sanctuary, he strongly reminded me of a Knights Templar: as a white monk of the Cistercian order, he lived the life of hermit - one of the poor soldiers of Jesus Christ; and like the Templars who have taken vows of poverty, chastity and obedience - he was normally as gentle as a lamb but as bold as a lion if it came to a fight.

On reflection though, perhaps not so strong on the obedience part.

Rima, Bird Girl of the Amazon

In my ongoing search for archetypes over at the Prosperity Project, I became somewhat entranced with the idea of Rima, the heroine of Green Mansions. What a contrast she is to the Little Spartan Boy. I wonder how different my life would be now, if I had been able to adopt her as my inner archetype instead of that little boy. Here is how he describes her:

Chapter Five:
It was a human being-- a girl form, reclining on the moss among the ferns and herbage, near the roots of a small tree. One arm was doubled behind her neck for her head to rest upon, while the other arm was held extended before her, the hand raised towards a small brown bird perched on a pendulous twig just beyond its reach. She appeared to be playing with the bird, possibly amusing herself by trying to entice it on to her hand; and the hand appeared to tempt it greatly, for it persistently hopped up and down, turning rapidly about this way and that, flirting it swings and tail, and always appearing just on the point of dropping on to her finger.

I could make out that she was small, not above four feet six or seven inches in height, in figure slim, with delicately shaped little hands and feet. Her feet were bare, and her only garment was a slight chemise-shaped dress reaching below her knees, of a whitish-gray colour, with a faint lustre as of a silky material. Her hair was loose and abundant, and seemed wavy or curly, falling in a cloud on her shoulders and arms. Dark it appeared, but the precise tint was indeterminable, as was that of her skin, which looked neither brown nor white. All together, near to me as she actually was, there was a kind of mistiness in the figure which made it appear somewhat vague and distant, and a greenish grey seemed the prevailing colour.

This tint I presently attributed to the effect of the sunlight falling on her through the green foliage; for once, for a moment, she raised herself to reach her finger nearer to the bird, and then a gleam of unsubdued sunlight fell on her hair and arm, and the arm at that moment appeared of a pearly whiteness, and the hair, just where the light touched it, had a strange lustre and play of iridescent colour.

I had not been watching her more than three seconds before the bird, with a sharp, creaking little chirp, flew up and away in sudden alarm; at the same moment she turned and saw me through the light leafy screen. But although catching sight of me thus suddenly, she did not exhibit alarm like the bird; only her eyes, wide open, with a surprised look in them, remained immovably fixed on my face.

And then slowly, imperceptibly-- for I did not notice the actual movement, so gradual and smooth it was, like the motion of a cloud of mist which changes its form and place, yet to the eye seems not to have moved-- she rose to her knees, to her feet, retired, and with face still towards me, and eyes fixed on mine, finally disappeared, going as if she had melted away into the verdure. The leafage was there occupying the precise spot where she had been a moment before-- the feathery foliage of an acacia shrub, and stems and broad, arrow- shaped leaves of an aquatic plant, and slim, drooping fern fronds, and they were motionless and seemed not to have been touched by something passing through them.

She had gone, yet I continued still, bent almost double, gazing fixedly at the spot where I had last seen her, my mind in a strange condition, possessed by sensations which were keenly felt and yet contradictory. So vivid was the image left on my brain that she still seemed to be actually before my eyes; and she was not there, nor had been, for it was a dream, an illusion, and no such being existed, or could exist, in this gross world; and at the same time I knew that she had been there-- that imagination was powerless to conjure up a form so exquisite.

Very romantic and beautiful isn't she? I think she is too young and altogether too beautiful and I'm not quite comfortable with her as an archetype. I do however think that I will begin to think of her as my lost child. Maybe I will root around and find her bones, each and every delicate one. And maybe, La Loba will sing through me and bring her into being once again.

Green Mansions

When I was in sixth grade, Green Mansions by W.H. Hudson was my favorite book. I fell in love with its poetic, mystical language, the enchanting natural innocence of Rima, the bird-girl of the Amazon jungle, and the haunting, evocative, ultimately tragic storyline. I wanted to be her, and I wanted the story to end differently.


Over at The Prosperity Project, we are exploring archetypes, and this book kept coming to mind. Amazingly, I found it posted on the internet where it can either be downloaded from Gutenberg or read at Ibiblio. How cool is that? It was also made into a movie in 1959.

This is a description of the basic plot:

Green Mansions by W.H. Hudson (1841-1922): An exotic romance set in the dark, mystical green Amazon rainforest of South America, the novel is narrated by a man named Abel who as a young man had lived among the Indians. He tells of Rima, a strange birdlike woman, a creature of the forest, with whom he falls in love, but whom is feared by the superstitious Indians. Through his relationship to her, Abel discovers the greatest joy--and the darkest despair.

And here's an exerpt from Chapter Four: After making a hasty meal at the house, I started, full of pleasing anticipations, for the wood; for how pleasant a place it was to be in! What a wild beauty and fragrance and melodiousness it possessed above all forests, because of that mystery that drew me to it! ....The precious woods and fruits and fragrant gums that would never be trafficked away; its wild animals that man would never persecute; nor would any jealous savage dispute my ownership or pretend that it was part of his hunting-ground.

As I crossed the savannah I played with this fancy; but when I reached the ridgy eminence, to look down once more on my new domain, the fancy changed to a feeling so keen that it pierced to my heart and was like pain in its intensity, causing tears to rush to my eyes. And caring not in that solitude to disguise my feelings from myself, and from the wide heaven that looked down and saw me-- for this is the sweetest thing that solitude has for us, that we are free in it, and no convention holds us-- I dropped on my knees and kissed the stony ground, then casting up my eyes, thanked the Author of my being for the gift of that wild forest, those green mansions where I had found so great a happiness!

La Loba

There is an old woman who lives in a hidden place that everyone knows in their souls but few have ever seen. As in the fairy tales of Eastern Europe, she seems to wait for lost or wandering people and seekers to come to her place.

She is circumspect, often hairy, always fat, and especially wishes to evade most company. She is both a crower and a cackler, generally having more animal sounds than human ones.

I might say she lives among the rotten granite slopes in Tarahumara Indian territory. Or that she is buried outside Phoenix near a well. Perhaps she will be seen traveling south to Monte Alban in a burnt out car with the back window shot out. Or maybe she will be spotted standing by the highway near El Paso, or riding shotgun with truckers to Morelia, Mexico, or walking to market above Oaxaca with strangely formed boughs of firewood on her back. She calls herself by many names: La Huesera, Bone Woman; La Trapera, The Gatherer; and La Loba, Wolf Woman.

The sole work of La Loba is the collecting of bones. She collects and preserves especially that which is in danger of being lost to the world. Her cave is filled with the bones of all manner of desert creatures: the deer, the rattlesnake, the crow. But her specialty is wolves.

She creeps and crawls and sifts through the mountains, and arroyos, looking for wolf bones, and when she has assembled an entire skeleton, when the last bone is in place and the beautiful white sculpture of the creature is laid out before her, she sits by the fire and thinks about what song she will sing.

And when she is sure, she stands over the criatura, raises her arms over it, and sings out. That is when the rib bones and leg bones of the wolf begin to flesh out and the creature becomes furred. La Loba sings some more, and more of the creature comes into being; its tail curls upward, shaggy and strong.

And La Loba sings more and the wolf creature begins to breathe.

And still La Loba sings so deeply that the floor of the desert shakes, and as she sings, the wolf opens its eyes, leaps up, and runs away down the canyon.

Somewhere in its running, whether by the speed of its running, or by splashing its way into a river, or by way of a ray of sunlight or moonlight hitting it right in the side, the wolf is suddenly transformed into a laughing woman who runs free toward the horizon.

So remember if you wander the desert, and it is near sundown, and you are perhaps a little bit lost, and certainly tired, that you are lucky, for La Loba may take a liking to you and show you something - something of the soul.

~from Women Who Run With the Wolves
by Clarissa Pinkola Estes

100 Things I Need

Recently I have been working at sorting out what I need vs what I fear vs what I want vs what I already have but don't use. Over at The Prosperity Project, we have just begun working The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire, a prosperity experiment that will culminate on Christmas Day, when hopefully all of our wishes will come true. The following list is my "letter to Santa" ... so here goes.

I am pretty sure I need the following:

1. More time.
2. A place for my art to go other than my closet.
3. A job that I actually enjoy.
4. A really good reason to get up in the morning.
5. Help.
6. Family - people around me who love me and care about me.
7. Privacy.
8. Quiet time.
9. More fun.
10. More money to pay my bills.
11. Fewer bills.
12. Windshield wipers that work.
13. To begin to eat only food that is good for me.
14. To go outside more often.
15. My water line heat taped and insulated before it gets really cold.
16. To stop being afraid of spiders, bugs, dirt, and hard work and get under the trailer and take care of that water line.
17. To take better care of my physical self.
18. Way more exercise.
19. Something really interesting to be involved in.
20. Healthy food in my refrigerator.
21. To go to the beach.
22. To stop being afraid of Bank of America.
23. To stop being afraid of getting old.
24. To stop being afraid of what my life will look like when my little dog dies.
25. A good cry.
26. To run screaming naked through my field.
27. Freedom.
28. For my life to have some purpose other than living until I die.
29. An adventure.
30. To roll on the floor laughing until I cry.
31. To feel better in my body.
32. A shower.
33. A new pair of glasses.
34. To go to the dentist.
35. To stop internalizing all my anxiety and fear.
36. To find away to release my inner fox - the one that's eating me alive.
37. A night out under the stars with a fire and friends.
38. To breathe.
39. A hug.
40. A shoulder to cry on.
41. A soft place to land at the end of the day.
42. To get rid of really a lot of junk.
43. Peace within even if there is chaos without.
44. To make friends with my inner dad.
45. To make friends with my inner mom.
46. A spirit of forgiveness and acceptance of my failures and flaws.
47. To feel loved.
48. To feel.
49. A better daily routine.
50. Some discipline.
51. To know that I am OK.
52. To detox my body.
53. And my emotions.
54. Happiness.
55. A community where I belong.
56. To visit my sister.
57. To know that my children will be OK.
58. Love.
59. A massage.
60. To be appreciated.
61. To appreciate myself.
62. To tell my family and friends how much I appreciate them.
63. Someone to help me get my house in order.
64. Not to be so alone all the time.
65. To relax.
66. To find a better balance of mental and physical activity.
67. To climb out of my box.
68. Energy.
69. Enthusiasm.
70. Courage.
71. To listen more and talk less.
72. Acceptance.
73. Money to flow easily to me and from me.
74. To stop whining and complaining.
75. To stop being scared of my bank account.
76. Confidence.
77. To stop sabotaging myself at every turn.
78. To be my own best friend.
79. To be a better best friend to Michelle.
80. To get ready for winter BEFORE it gets here.
81. To stop running and hiding.
82. To smile more often.
83. To cut myself some slack.
84. Fulfillment and satisfaction at the end of the day instead of anxiety and an oppressive sense of guilt.
85. My mind to be still so my heart can breathe.
86. Did I say to go outside? Because I really think I need to be outside way more than I am.
87. To take a chill pill.
88. To do a much better job of cleaning up after myself.
89. Water.
90. Waves.
91. Sand.
92. Salt.
93. Shells.
94. Touch.
95. To really in habit my body - fully and completely.
96. Kindness.
97. To get my car cleaned out so I can take my granddaughter Trick-or-Treating tonight.
98. For this post to be finished really soon.
99. A frosty glass of tea with lemon.
100. To be content with myself and my life even if not one of these needs gets met.

Feedback on my big idea

Here is what my sister had to say about my "Best Idea Yet", which basically consisted of running away from home and becoming a Gypsy Witch.


I have no talent for predicting good ideas versus bad ideas! But I do hear bits and pieces of an underlying theme here - you really want to get away, out, out from under, out into your authentic life...? What about your life right now is inauthentic? Do you really want to sell your property but you are stuck in the idea you can't? Do you really want to move away?

I have been getting so much insight from writing my thoughts down in 'the language of need...' I keep distilling these needs (always asking myself - is it true? etc using The Work), so that I'm clearer and clearer. When I have my clear and true need down, the manifesting starts happening in lightening proportions.

So, in the language of needs, I am wondering what your e-mail says about what you need - but since I'm not you, I'm not that clear about it. I think when you know what you truly need it will be so much easier to proceed toward manifesting it. For instance, if you need to sell your property and move your life along - if you really know that is what you need - then the fear is drained away and your can proceed patiently and the universe can and will make it happen. And in the practical sense, you will know the next step - call a realtor and have it valued - see an attorney and get clear about what you can and can't do -

If you find out that the urge to leave is really the manifestation of your need to get out from under the debt, then you will know you don't want to leave your property and you can make an appointment with an attorney and find out your options.

This is the best I can offer as far as a plan and I think it is brilliant by the way - you really need some solid ground as your launch pad. I don't see how you can go much further without really sitting quietly and touching your own wisdom. You are really and truly very extremely wise, so much wiser than you even know yourself to be. You are even wiser than the Red Jesus and all your friends put together. I know this to be TRUE.

If you were to ask me what I want to know?

What I want to know is what would happen if you got still for an hour - maybe two. Coffee and notepad a pencil, quiet time, quiet mind. I want to know.

If you were to go to the next step, I would be even more enlightened because your insights about yourself are clearing the way for insights about myself. You can write down your judgments about yourself - I am anxious, frightened, angry and confused about blah, blah, blah. I need blah, blah, blah. I never want to experience blah, blah, blah. I should, I shouldn't, blah, blah, blah. I am angry and disappointed with myself because of blah, blah, blah. Don't try to sugar coat it or make it sound more evolved than say a 13-year old...

Then you can know something really amazing and thoroughly true for you by doing the work on what you wrote... I love you and I know WHATEVER you do will be perfect.

Now that's some good advice, and I wonder why I still haven't done it.

My greatest idea yet!

This morning while writing an email to my sister... I had an awesome idea of how to solve my financial problems and my job issues. I decided to post it here because I just might actually do it, and I want to document the day my life potentially turned upside down.

Well, the windshield wiper motor is really expensive... The least it will cost is somewhere in the neighborhood of $100.. the wost case scenario is $300. It all depends on whether the motor itself is broken, or if the wiper mechanism just came off of it. I'll probably have to wait until I have some significant boarding money before I can have it fixed. I lost several hours of pay the day it broke because it was raining really really hard, and I couldn't drive - so my paycheck was short. And I'm looking at a shut off notice from the electric company even as we speak. I can pay the electric bill - but when I do, there will be no money for the car.

Part of the reason I'm coming up broke this month is that Bank of America took $300 out of my checking account for the line of credit. I wasn't expecting them to do that until next month - it's their yearly fee that I pay in order to have the pleasure of being reamed by them for another 12 months. So, the money that I had saved out for the rental car and the trip just disappeared... but I went anyway, and I paid for it by NOT paying a number of bills. I had the expectation of my dog class and my computer class taking up the slack... But both of them got canceled for 2 weeks which put me $240 less than expected.

And Daphne (no surprises here) doesn't have her "rent" money because she lost her job. Did I tell you that her car is now about to crap out? I wonder what they will do.... It's a curious thing...

Talking about this, and thinking about this activates all my fantasies of how to weasel out of it. Like ... selling the property ... and not putting the money in the bank ... and just being a nomad for a while... maybe even a long while... I could buy a van... make it into a Vardo... and be a Gypsy Witch for a while... traveling from place to place... hooking up at state parks... at friend's houses... etc... maybe I could sell snake oil... .... ... I could visit you and we could do art... I could visit Arkansas and dig for crystals... I could visit Michelle and make cool medicine wheel mojos... I could visit my friend Marsha in California and do native american drummings and sell those crystals and the mojos... I could dress like a Gypsy... say to hell with being ordinary and sane ... For money, I could do animal communication and shamanic healing and reiki ... I bet I could sell my art then...

OH MY GOD... THAT SOUNDS LIKE SO MUCH FUN!!! I think it might even be my best idea yet! I like it so much that I just might make a plan to accomplish it! The more I think about it the more appealing it is. I could still see Sydney regularly... I could even keep the blogs if I wanted to. Just put up a disclaimer explaining my life style, and then post when I'm at people's houses... and not post when I'm off in no where... I could keep a stash of books, art supplies, and other "important" stuff at Michelle's... Maybe I could keep a stash or a "room" at your house also?

My expenses would be limited to: food, gas, upkeep and maintenance on the vehicle, clothing and misc necessities, dog food and routine animal care, art supplies, cell phone, my yahoo account, cafe press stores, domain names and hosting at godaddy, and camping fees when needed.

I could run away from home and become a gypsy!!!

I want it! I want to do it!
Have I lost my mind?
What do you think?

Here's something else.... I had the van idea on my way back from Oklahoma. I asked the Red Jesus last night to give me some guidance and a good idea of how to navigate my precarious financial situation. Now I'm in the grip of this really cool idea... Do you think it's guidance? Or do you think I'm just nutty? Would you be willing to help me come up with a plan of how to accomplish it? Like... a step by step thing?


They did it!
Why couldn't I?

Now I'm so caught up in the fantasy... and the idea that I can't focus on anything else. So, I'm off to make lists, and plan massive garage sales, and research real estate prices. I've got a lot of stuff to get rid of! And even more to do - if I actually do it, that is. Right now today, it's just a really cool idea... once the cold light of reality blasts down on it, it just might fade and die. I'm curious to see what happens now.

The Hospice Rose

Here's something I've been thinking about. The other day at work, I was fishing around for excuses NOT to be working when I noticed Cindy, one of my coworkers salvaging a vase of roses that had been wilting in the supervisors office for days. She looked so motherly as she fussed over them that I asked her if she was the "Flower Mommy".

We then got into a conversation about what, if anything, could be added to the water to help the roses live longer now that their stems were recut and the vase refreshed with clean water. I offered up an asprin, and dubbed myself the "Flower Nurse".

When she was done, there was one rose left, so pathetic and wilted, it wasn't even allowed back in the vase with the others. Cindy was going to throw it away, but I said... Hey no! I'm the flower nurse. I'll put it in "hospice" on my desk.

The rest of my shift, that sweet rose lay on my desk. I found myself constantly wanting to hold it in my hand. I got really attached to "her", and started thinking about aging and death, and wondering if roses in their "youth" feared or "looked down" on roses past their prime and dropping petals. To me, this one rose had a sweetness that really spoke to me. I didn't think she was "less than" because she was wilted and droopy. She fed me all night. She fed me her scent and her softness.

And it occured to me how important it is to look at myself in the mirror, and breathe in my essence and my experience, to be tender with and cherish the wrinkles, the roundness, and the aging that has occured. I wished that I could find a way to loosen the grip of anxiety and fear and just relax with the petals as they fall. Will I do that? I don't know. I hope so.

I made a sale at Cafe Press!

Someone bought one of my journals at Cafe Press. How cool is that? Here is what it looks like:

This is the background information on the picture:

Shirley Gibson, age 5, with best friend and constant companion, Chit Chat. Macuma Ecuador 1956

This little monkey was traded for medicine, and we instantly fell in love with each other. He rode around on my shoulder almost every moment that I was outside. My mom wouldn’t let me bring him into the house, but he did have a nice little home of his own on our back porch.

This is the info on the journal itself: Best Friends Journal, $12.99

AVAILABILITY: In Stock, will ship in 2 business days
Product Number: 94331918

Product Information
Scribble important stuff - lyrics, recipes, addresses, and more. Our Wire-O bound, 160 page journal is unlined and measures 5" x 8", a handy on-the-go size to fit in your backpack. Go creative and let the muse flow.

Back cover made of thin black flexible textured plastic, measures 16/1000" thick. Front cover made of 12pt glossy paper, coated for scratch resistance. Filled with 60lb bookweight (24 lb bond) blank paper - NO LINES.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

One of the seldom mentioned keys to the spiritual life is acceptance. Not acceptance of others, but of ourselves. So often we focus on what we want to change, how we want to work on ourselves, lessen our character defects. Implicit in all of this is the unspoken idea that somehow God has made an error and you are deeply flawed exactly as you are.

What if there is no error? What if our flaws are foibles and not fault lines? What if we are acceptable even in the times we have difficulty accepting ourselves? It is the nature of the desert to be a hostile and forbidding place. Yet, within all that, there is a sheer beauty that emerges from the barren landscape. The same hard-won gains come from enduring the desert of the heart.

It is at least possible that hard times come upon us not as punishments but as stringent blessings. The poet Theodore Roethke, himself a depressive, tells us: 'In a dark time, the eye begins to see.' Spiritual and creative breakthroughs are the frequent fruit of time in the desert, a sudden vivid flowering as when the desert floor comes vibrantly alive after a rare and sudden rain. Droughts can be survived. Desert time can be turned to good purpose if we are willing to listen and endure.

~Quote by Julia Cameron
~That awesome picture of the Sonora Desert
can be enlarged and installed as desktop wallpaper.

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened. Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument. Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

~Rumi

This pretty much sums me up today!
It's from Argyle Academy

Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire

I am reading The Spontaneous Fulfillment of Desire by Deepak Chopra. The book came to me in a synchronistic way, and is spontaneously giving me clues to finding answers to questions that I have been mulling over and struggling with for months now.

He says: "People who have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning to go to a job they hate, who find it difficult to become engaged in their professional activities, who feel emotionally 'dead' after a day at the office, need to pay attention to those feelings. These are important signals that there must be a way to get more fulfillment out of life. Perhaps a miracle lies in the wings. You'll never know unless you form an intention, become sensitive to the clues from the universe, follow the chain of coincidence, and help create the destiny you most desire."

Now, I don't hate my job - but I don't love it either. As broke as I am, I cannot force myself to work more hours even when they are available, I do find it hard to get out of bed in the mornings, and I do feel emotionally 'dead' just about all the time. I keep myself pretty well anesthetized. My greatest pleasures come from being involved in creative projects and my biggest disappointments come when those projects don't grow into self sufficiency.

He goes on to say: "Of course, life can be difficult, and we each have daily chores, responsibilities, and obligations that can become overwhelming. Coincidences may come flying at you from all directions, or they may seem to dry up entirely."

So true. What does he say to do about that?

• Take five minutes every day and just sit in silence.
• Ask yourself a few questions.
• Who am I?
• What do I want for my life?
• What do I want from my life today?
• Let yourself go and let your inner voice supply the answers.
• Write those answers down.
• Do this every day.

When I did that, and didn't write anything down, nothing much happened. When I went ahead and wrote the answers down, it seemed to work better. Somehow, the process of writing it down opens up (at least for me) areas that my mind passes over.

This is what I came up with today:

• I don't know who I am because I'm afraid to know because I'm afraid that I will not be able to live up to it.
• What I want from my life is peace within and interesting challenges without, I want friends and companions. I want to be in a space where I can share what I know, where I can share my heart and my "knowings" in a way that is helpful and inspiring to others. I want the freedom to be creative. And I want what I create to be appreciated and loved.
• For today, I want to get "organized", I want to feel that I have "handle" on chaos, a road map, or a good "beginning" point for the rest of my week.

Snake Medicine

This is a Spreading Adder. Isn't he cute? I had a very interesting encounter with a little guy who looked just like this when I was in Oklahoma last week.

I haven't been able to get him out of my mind. He wasn't very big.. maybe 12 inches long at most. This is what I found out about him:

The name "Spreading Adder" name comes from snake’s tendency to spread its neck when he feels threatened – reminiscent of a cobra. His real name is the Eastern Hognose Snake (Heterodon platyrhinos).

Why does the hognose spread its neck? It’s a bluff to make the snake look large and imposing. These snakes are actually harmless.

Since I can't get him out of my mind, I decided look him up in my "Animal Speak" book. There is no mention of this specific snake, but for snakes in general, this is what he said:

The snake is a symbol of transformation and healing. Anytime a snake shows up as a totem, you can expect death and rebirth to occur in some area of your life. This rarely reflects an actual death but rather a transition. Look for change in conditions and a movement to new life. Examine what is going on around you:

• Are you needing to make changes but aren't for some reason?
• Are you trying to force change too quickly?
• Are you striking out at people and shouldn't?
• Are you not striking and should?
• What is needing to be healed?
• What new opportunities are surfacing that you need to strike out for and take advantage of?
• When you are frightened, how do you bluff?
• Do you exaggerate your fears?
• Do you want to appear bigger or more important than you really are?
• Are you bluffing?

It can also reflect that your own creative forces are awakening. Spiritually, it can stimulate greater perception of how to apply your insight and intuition. Your own vision and intuition will become more accurate. Learning opportunities, formal and informal, will surface frequently. You will be able to swallow and digest whatever you take in.

Snakes have speed and agility, so those who have snakes come into their life will usually find the changes and shifts occur quickly and are soon recognized and defined. When snake comes into your life you can look for a rebirth into new powers of creativity and wisdom.

Here's something to think about!

Here is a story I found in the book The Spiritual Life and how to be attuned to it by St. Theophan the Recluse.

A certain man lived somewhere far away in the desert. His internal organs became diseased, either his lungs, his heart, his liver, or maybe all of them at once. The pain made him feel as if he were going to die. He could not expect human help from anywhere, and so he turned to God with the most intense prayer. The Lord heard him. One night after falling asleep he saw a vision. Two angels came with knives, cut him open, took out the ailing parts, cleaned them, washed them and annointed them with something. Then they put everything back in its place, sprinkled something over him, and everything healed, as if he had not even been cut open. When he awakened, the elder got up entirely healthy, as if he had never been ill; he was new like a youth in the flower of his strength.

I told this story to someone who labors over himself. When he heard it, he responded with enthusiasm, "Oh, if only the angels would come and do for my soul what they did for the body of the elder!" (This is exactly what I was thinking!) In this response you can hear both a prayer and also a desire to shift that which is supposed to be done through one's own labors to someone else. (Oh oh... he's got me pegged for sure!) For such a crafty thought is not alien to our heart; we know that we are to be nothing but good, to to have to labor to achieve this - we despair. The angels are not going to come to purify and heal our heart. There exist such things as instructions and advice from angels, but everything must be done by oneself. All means are provided; that is, tools and surgeon's instruments. Take them and cut yourself wherever necessary without feeling any pity for yourself. No one else can do this for you. (I know he's right - but will I be able to do it? I'm not at all convinced that I can.)

The act of cleansing must be conducted by one's own self, without any self-pity. The motivator of this act within us is that efficacious, living zeal - that active, live, fervent, untiring zeal that is the sign our spirit has been rehabilitated and restored to its former power through reunion with God by means of the grace and action of the Holy spirit.

We do have our outbursts of zeal, but they are only outbursts, and then they are extinguished. The zeal which is always fervent, constant and untiring zeal, exists only when our spirit is filled with grace by the Holy Spirit. Thus when you have such zeal, it means also that your spirit has been restored, and - do not quench it - it takes in hand both the mind and body, all the requirements of their nature, all their domestic and civil cares, and it directs them toward one thing pleasing God and salvation...

It is both chopper and knife, which always works extremely well when it is sharpened by grace and guided by it's suggestions. It is ruthless when it establishes itself in the heart; it cuts, ignoring the cries of its victim. It is for this reason that the work goes successfully, and soon achieves its purpose; for the cutting is not the only thing. Once everything has been cut off, then zeal is present, but does not function as a knife. It acts as a guard, and turns all its fierceness on the enemies of salvation, on those annoyances from which no one is free and the shamlessness from which no one is ever left in peace.

Without it, your spiritual activity will get nowhere. Indeed, when it is not there, your spirit is asleep; and when it is asleep, there is no use in discussing the spiritual.

Maybe you might want to take notes!

Is anything on this blog worthy of a note? Probably not, but I thought this was pretty nifty and I wanted to try it! So go ahead, write a note! You know you want to.. so just do it!

A Sufi Dandelion Story

Here is an old sufi story that I have been mulling over today:

Mulla Nasrudin decided to start a flower garden. He prepared the soil and planted the seeds of many beautiful flowers. But when they came up, his garden was filled not just with his chosen flowers but also overrun by dandelions.

Read the rest of the story at Sufi Stories on ShirleyTwofeathers