Its been a wild ride this year. Family members surgeries, re-arranging attendance to help our ailing Father to us siblings and Grandfather to our own children, a hot simmering summer and now cold, rainy winter, lots of air travel for some, championship sports events for our kids in soccer, baseball, gymnastics, pinching more pennies than we are all used to and finding the precious time we all need with family.
This Christmas we invaded our parents home with food, wine and laughter. It was challenging and it cramped our styles but our Father wanted his children and grandchildren near him.
The rain fell in sheets and we scurried with umbrellas and packages, stuffed with prime rib and cornish hens and lots of sides. We are used to the imbibing and gluttony but how much can a stomach take? We exchange gifts as a game and laughed until our sides split. Some were left with gifts that couldn't be given away!
Grandchildren took the time to personalize their visits with Grand Dad. Although frail, he kept the love.
There are those who speak out and matter and those who remain in safe silence. Here is an excerpt of Alan Watt's book Cutting through the Matrix. His words are thoughtful, researched, real in live time, full of historical remembrance, inspiring and filled with a truth, few, unfortunately dare venture to think about. He is a vanguard that has chosen to stimulate the human element to make adjustments in thinking, belief and action.
Cutting Through Book 2 by Alan Watt A Glimpse Into the Great Work SAMPLE PAGE FROM BOOK As a preface to understanding, I think it necessary to go through the standard phases of “waking up."
1. An Individual vaguely perceives something is wrong in his/her life. This takes the form of fatigue at trying to "keep up" with real or imaginary crisis, encroachment of government into every aspect of life, increasing taxationand so on. Sometimes it takes the loss of work and the realization that the safety net they contributed to has a gaping hole in the middle.
2. The individual discovers that justice is a joke and that all control mechanisms go up like a pyramid, taking their property, taxes etc. with it. This wealth then is distributed to "help bail-out" or "prop-up" "failing" transnational corporations. Left-overs are channeled via Overseas Developement Corporations to "developing nations," where the loot is pocketed by front-men and their beaurocrats. Crumbs filter down to social services, which, after being guzzled by directors and staff, leave little for the needy except bundles of forms, in triplicate, of course.
3. The individual looks around for others already exposing "the conspiracy." These established champions inform him which "conspiracy" books to read. Having then done so, the individual begins to "expose" the corruption, first to friends, then when friendless, he either publishes what he has gleaned or becomes paranoid and withdraws from society altogether. Why does the waking-up process fail to spread quickly through society? 1. He is terribly naive. He believes the massive corruption "just happened" to begin in his own lifetime, otherwise mummy or daddy or teacher would have warned him. It does not occur to him that his Parents, teachers etc. were as conditioned as he was. 2. Most people do not wish to know. They, like farm animals, have been domesticated. Wild animals (original) have natural instincts of self-preservation. They sense the evil intentions of predators and they survive by trusting their instincts. Wild herds do not "hang around" when one or more members drops dead. Specially bred sheep do. 3. Pavlovian conditioning/response indoctrination has been fed to every individual, through schooling. The media then takes over. Peoples’ opinions are simply sound-bites from news, talk-shows or quotes from glossy magazines.
Reservations were made by my sister Cathy and brother-in-law Mike who sat at the bar waiting while we were still navigating around a massive (new) parking structure at Irvine Spectrum trying to find a parking space on a Saturday night. My other sister Mary Ellen was somewhere far behind us. It had been a long while down memory lane when we first walked this spectacular outdoor mall in Orange County. Built by the Donald Bren Irvine Company ( a most respected and diversified private Real Estate company) with 1.15 million sf of building space, 130 stores and a 6400 seat theater with 21 screens, scores of restaurants, fountains, 350 palm trees and 500,000 ceramic tiles ( not to be persnickety) it wowed my attention for sure. The walkathon throughout is sure to burn a few calories but it is as pleasant as the county fair type food that graces the mall and lures you in. I'm talking coney island kabobs,tacos, pizza, pretzels, subs, funnel cakes ( see pics), yogurt, sushi, candy ( oh! the chocolate covered nutty caramel apples!),fudge, ice cream, crepes. The restaurants rate as some of my favorites . . .the kind you keep on your bookmark list like Cheesecake Factory and P.F. Changs.
There was some serious electric guitar playing mid courtyard and a 108 foot Lighted Giant Ferris Wheel handcrafted in Italy. My son tried to get on but alas, the gate closed at the late hour.
The family met at Javiers Mexican Grill which put every Mexican restaurant I have ever been to in my life, to shame. This was a serious eating and drinking hole. The tables were slammed with food, wall to wall people ( you walk sideways practically) and an army of servers who have grace and aplomb amid the screaming happy campers. We were navigated into a darkened back room lit with candles, a fake tree with flickering lights and a zen like fountain wall slick with water. The ambience was top notch. The menu extravagant. The salsa biting hot. Most of us ordered the lobster enchiladas and honestly, the beans were to die for. I don't remember refried beans like that since Mama Cita in Mexico when we lived in Guadalajara as young stupid students. Wow! Drinks? Margaritas without any allergic response. Just a wonderful show of food.
After sampling desserts along the courtyard, ( sharing means you get a bite or two) we realized the time got away from us. It was 11 pm and we tried to find a bathroom. Wound up in Dave and Busters and a new world opened up to us. Dave and Busters is one of those honky tonk establishments of eat,drink,play. The menu ( no we did not eat again) carried soft pretzel bits with spicy horseradish mustard or honey sweet mustard and cheddar cheese sauce. Flatbread pizzas, buffalo wings, potato skins, philly steak rolls, chips with the quac, spinach dips, edamame, burgers, quesadillas; the usual fare for people who get hungry playing video games. We walked through in order to find the restrooms and lo and behold, the sing song sounds sang to us like a casino melody. My sister bought a $20 power card and began to game. We tried skeet ball and wheel of fortune that brings on winning tickets you turn in for cool toys and high tech gadgets. The clock was ticking and we were tired but come on. This idea of fun out of the brainy agenda of Buster-- who ran a watering hole in 1982 next door to Dave who ran a fun and games facility for big people and combined their efforts friends that they became turned this enterprise into a monstrosity of fun all over the country ( Look for one near you). Definitely on my own agenda for a return visit.
I have always had a yen for the mysterious and unexplained, a riddle without an answer or why humankind would build underground cities and where are they? ( another post another day) or what lies in them thar ancient hills?
I found a story that piqued my interest and left me still scratching my head in wonder. It is Skelligs Michael, an island thirteen miles from Ballinskelligs Bay off the coast of Ireland. Because of its fragmented history and its remoteness, many pilgrimages have sought this enigmatic site. They call it sacred but no one really knows why.
You can liken it to the Anuhazi sites in America, an abandoned community. High (714 feet)on this island, a terrifying steepness by average standards, has now the acute attention of the gov't of Eire and has forbidden tourists to scale the 600-700 and something steps ( who's counting?)--steps made out of slate, without guardrails. Even though there have been fatalities in the climb, and who knows how many unrecorded deaths, monks built the staircase to their heaven with their bare hands. A monastic settlement was founded around the jagged peaks of stone and slate by St. Fionan, the Kerry Saint, in the 6th Century ( 1,450 yrs ago) where monks worked and prayed and chanted possibly, overlooking a magnificent panorama. Their only visitors were the gannets; the largest colony of seabirds in the world it is said. At the top are beehives made of slate, their residences with openings at the top to let in the light of day or perhaps to let out the steam and smoke of a fire? The architecture reminds me of a Native American hut/tee pee. Oddly, the rock huts appear round on the outside but inside it is rectangular so the sleeping platforms can be built into the walls. The monks used terraces outside to grow vegetables and caught fish from the ocean below. Birds eggs were the main food supply.
There is a legend that St. Patrick waged a final battle there, fighting the devils and venomous snakes that plagued Ireland. I am one not to believe in myths, give me the cold, hard facts. But who knows what war was contended good vs evil? Many believe it is the site of Ulta Ur Lohas, a piece of Old Atlantis, still standing.
The monks left in the 13th Century and settled on the mainland. However, historically, Vikings had invaded Skelligs several times, bringing their unholy energy but for what purpose? Nothing of wealth resides there or could have resided there but love and peace. That love must have taken hold in the tundra; the very craggy rocks because that peace exudes even to those who cruise by in choppy waters and look up. Even the wind must have a faint brogue. Or at least a hint of Celtic song.
Carl Jung coined syncronicity as apparently meaningful coincidence in time of two or more similar or identical events that are causally unrelated. I prefer to go with Oprah's mantra that opportunity meets preparation. Preparation you say? Well sure. Since I believe we are not just flesh and bone, our spirits work feverishly at a higher clip of frequency moving all the chesspieces around while we are thinking, gee this was a surprising turn of events!
One day, we all should sit down with a piece of paper and list all the synchronous events that have "surprised us" in our life. Good, bad or indifferent. Yet, I beg to wonder if anything in life is indifferent. Ok I will start.
About three years ago, my husband and I attended a boring mandated seminar in the town of Santa Ana. The last day we were itching for something elevating and ventured down the road toward the beach. Without a map or a real destination I thought of an outside mall, famous for their restaurants one block from the ocean. "Fashion Island!" I said. So off we went, following signs and to our astonishment, not getting lost. Newport was fascinating for me only because I hardly ever went near there. We pull in and I see this large sign over a restaurant "Roy's". Roy's with its scrumptious Hawaiian food. We park and stroll over only to find out that the wait is hours long. When we left, another restaurant caught our eye. "Blue Coral!" I shout. I had remembered once that my brother-in-law Mike raved about it. We entered this softly lit inviting lounge and were told there would be a wait or we could have our dinner in the lounge. Fine by me. We sit down and my husband uses the restroom as I peruse the menu. When he returned to our table he said, Stand up and look that way. Syncronicity glowed ten feet away shielded by a partition. Sitting at a round table was my Mother, Father, Sister, Brother-in-law and niece and nephews. The screaming stopped when the waiters brought extra chairs over.
That was a far fetched but very true example of how our minds work in choreographing syncronicity. There was no way I was in touch with or knew of this orchestration. Well, I believe God works through people and that workmanship has much to do with physics and sparking points so we can expand our experiences. The spirit within that guides our actions even to the most impossible angle or manuever needs a standing ovation. No luck. No miracle. No collision course. This is the meat of our intuition, trained and honed yet so many of us refuse to acknowledge its perfection.
For anyone who has not seen INCEPTION, I will be mentioning SPOILERS so watch the movie before you read what I have written. Above is the trailer and following is the brilliant soundtrack by composer Hans Zimmer who played it with orchestration at the premiere.
I purposely wanted to know what the world felt about this movie because the global perception is important to me to find out if people really cared about their dreams. The high majority of the people loved the film because it made them THINK. Not a popcorn muncher but a film that bewilders, befuddles and messes with your mind. It has been called a spy flick, a heist flick, an action flick, a sci fi flick, a riddle that is wrapped inside an enigma.
Christopher Nolan is notorious for thought provoking flims, i.e. Memento -where the protagonist suffers short term memory but then the film begins to fragment and is shown in reverse chronological order going from black to white and back to color. By the end of the film, some say, the protag doesn't know who to trust nor does the viewer. I saw that film many years back. Nolan also did Dark Knight ( Heath Ledgers last film noir)but I did not care to indulge. He also directed Batman Begins which drew my attention. More recently, The Prestige, which was a period piece involving magicians. I very much liked that movie. However, one common denominator of his films that is critiqued by many says: "they have no heart." The idea for the film was actually once presented in a 1969 James Bond flick called On Her Majesty's Secret Service. Nolan pitched his initial idea some ten years ago.
There are plenty of films that mess with your mind. I can think of Blade Runner (1981) directed by Ridley Scott ( Terminator, Aliens)based on a book called DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP? with Harrison Ford who we all love. He played a detective set in the future, who hunts down and retires advanced androids called replicants. A big question was asked of all who saw it. What does it really mean to be human? Was Harrison Ford a robot or not? The films ending, by the way, was changed and even seven versions of the film have been shown. People say you have to see it at least five times to assimilate all the information.
Lets not forget, The Game, with Michael Douglas. That blew me away.
Inception with a budget of $160 million and filmed in six countries has everyone racing to see it because of its technical CGI wonder and dream perceptions. I have come to believe that most people innately want to know more of that whether they remember dreams or not. It presents the veil that seems impenetrable.
Synopsis: The Thief of dreams Dom Cobb ( Leonardo Di Caprio) is hired by the powerful Japanese mogul Saito ( Ken Watanabe) to hack into the mind, using chemical biotechnology of Robert Fischer (Cillian Murphy), the heir to a rival business, to implant an idea. The idea is to convince Fischer that he should dissolve his dying fathers empire.
Mal, who was Cobbs dead wife, the femme fatale(Marion Cotillard) becomes the constant phantom haunting of Cobb's subconscious and unconscious mind and she appears, it seems, when Cobb is most distressed. We note she is not always there on screen and not in everyone's dreams such as when the van is attacked or the hotel fight with Arthur. She is evidently only in Cobbs mind.
Cobb assembles his team for the dreamscape: a female student called Ariadne ( Ellen Page) who his father Miles ( Michael Caine) suggests. Ariadne's job is to design the dream operations of the journey. She is young, granted, maybe too young for this film but the contrast is refreshing. She is the supergenius. Some film critics say she was miscasted but I am not too sure about that. She has this stoic, non-emotional voice and look about her that is really her personality. You see it even in her interviews off screen. And remember, 'no heart movie' from Nolan. No elicited emotion. At one point, the viewer sees Cobb and Ariadne wandering about in their dream while Paris is folding in on itself and giant mirrors opens in the middle of busy streets. My impression was perhaps the Director was a trying to make a point that architecture is whatever you want it to be and that there are no rules in a dream?
During the film, Ariadne questions Cobb as to his intentions, his fears, his covertness, his psychology of behavior. She even shows herself to be the voice of reason.
Cobbs point man, Arthur ( Joseph Gordon-Levitt) does the background checks. The Chemist ( Dileep Rao) concocts sleepytime potions that are basically illegal pulling the dreamer down 4 notches. Then we have the danger of limbo and never getting back issue. The Forger Eames (Tom Hardy) impersonates other people inside Robert Fischers dreams. You gotta be on your toes for that guy. Interesting slant. Strong actors like Michael Caine and Tom Berenger had bit parts that seemed plastic in contrast to the storyline. I would have wished for more engagement from them.
Christopher Nolan not only directed but wrote the screenplay. One critic said Inception islike a matryoshka, a Russian nested doll in its layers of perception and dreams. (I will have to research that metaphor)
Viewers of the film wanted to know why the top of the mountain scene with the white snow suits because both bad guys and good guys wore the same suits. To confuse us? Or was it some hidden metaphorical symbol? Many critics felt this scene was pointless with alot of nonsense machine gun fire. I had heard that Leo Di Caprio said it was a very difficult scene as they were breathless at the high altitude with long takes.
Piece de resistance: the scene with Arthur in the hotel floating and the walls slanting was a technological wonder. I read that two cameras and two screens had to be used in a massive Cardington soundstage in England. A 100 foot hallway that could rotate like a log up to eight times per minute; and a duplicate hallway standing vertically on its end so that Arthur could hang down inside it to appear weightless was implemented. Also they took a hotel room and rotated that at 360 degrees. As far as the one scene where Arthur stacks up his co-stars in zero gravity and floats them into an elevator, well I have nothing to say about that because the Cinematographer said that trick is secret.
What the film ultimately says is that dreams can be overtaken by others and in turn our subconscious brains can be trained to defend against outside dream attacks. This is worth exploring. How true or not? Do we have an innate defense system in place to protect us in our dream state?
Long before this oil spill became bigger than big news, I mouthed the words, "they hit a volcano". I never dreamed they would use that term countless times hence. My mind wandered to the vision of sub-seabed oil that may be necessary to lubricate the tectonic plates now gushing into our oceans. Mother Earth had been egregiously violated.
We have all watched the horror growing; the crude oil spewing like vomit onto our beaches, onto our babies bodies who frolick in the sea then scream "get it off me!", onto our sea creatures, confused and dazed while petroleum which can penetrate the cells of any living organism toxifies and kills. We have shaken our heads in disbelief that such a dangerous element could be allowed in the first place, as if we let our children play with fire hoping they wouldn't get burned. We shout out at rallies and the government officials. We play the videos and shoot it to everyone on our email list. We hear from our loved ones in the Gulf states who do not fudge on the truth. We look at the tar balls on the beaches once swarming with eager tourists. We study the oceanographer reports, the marine biologists, the experts who are telling a different story or a more expansive story. We hear the cry of many who think this was no accident. We want to trust but thats out the window. Then we are left with a solemn thought.
That pinprick thought sears through our hearts and minds imploding like grenades where our most private emotions reside. We ask the questions we dare not want to know the answers of.
Can this one unspeakable event change the world as we know it?
Can the possibility of a seabed collapse, a tsunami, a tectonic shift affecting the most coveted and talked about Madrid fault, a horrendous spread of disease from toxic oil rain, hurricane sweep take out millions of people who live in that part of the country and what then?
Even the optimists are pissed off and open mouthed about the consequences. This is not going away. This cannot be resolved in our lifetime. Coral reefs are affected that are millions of years old. Viable Plankton is gone -- the major sustenance for all sea creatures. The spread is finding its way to the Caribbean and beyond.
In addition, we have covertness, irresponsibility and mismanagement at the helm. We have our first Amendment rights severed at the Gulf so we have to depend on the few who know and will post. And we don't even have a State of Emergency Announced. Our fishing trade is gone. Our tradespeople have lost their jobs, perhaps their homes. Our workers in the Gulf on the cleanup are sick and hospitalized. Our children are having chemical reactions systemically.
Is this the beginning of the end of our country as we know it?
Most of us need a happy ending or at least a resolution to a problem that allows us a choice in the matter. However, this film did not give us either.
The verve that Viggo Mortensen embodied as the Father of his son ( Kodi Smit McPhee) during a post-apocalyptic end-of-the-world destruction was un-namable but I will try. It asks you what moral and iron-clad grit comes out of losing his wife (Charlize Theron)and facing the wilds of man on a walk to somewhere, anywhere during a nuclear winter. The words heard as the Father narrates the perfect descriptives of Pulitzer Prize winning Cormac McCarthy's novel THE ROAD begins to break your heart before much is begun. "If only my heart were stone."
There is no gameness, no strategy, only a dauntless spirit to find food and shelter and a safe haven from those without conscience, who will dip into a place of abyss where no man wants to tread. You may ask, Where is the aliveness? Where is the purpose? Why write a book or film a movie about the destitution of war and its aftermath; an extinction of humanity?
Maybe you have to read the book first and let the author's words wash over you, poking into corners of the core of your being. "He knew only that the child was his warrant. He said, If he is not the word of God, God never spoke." He told the child, "I will not send you into the darkness alone."
So they walked the road along the same road that carried the vagrants, the thieves, the unconscious takers of life, the manic and the forlorn. The child said, "We're carrying the fire because we are the good guys."
The story brings to mind another book written by Octavia Butler before her untimely death, a woman of substance who wrote of the child who walked a road out of post destruction in the undetermined future, called PARABLE OF THE SOWER. Her faith and her diligence to bring a piece of God to her torturous journey and share with her road travelers was extraordinary.
In THE ROAD I was weary as the characters were, compassionate to the highest power and filled with war torn emotion that such a thing could be imagined; that man vs man could come to that nexus point. I settled for the one true message. That this portrayed the bare bones of what humankind feels with survival. How far does one go to survive? You watch those slip into an instinctual grasp for life without a glimmer of hope or renewal. In that survival few things were important: food, shelter, staying alive without armor, struggling with the innate need to be even-spirited in encounters with others, fighting against and weighing the balance of humanitarianism, feeling the importance of closeness and the expression of love, facing the hateful idea of suicide with a half-closed heart, accepting death and aloneness, letting grief fill all the empty spaces when memory floods.
These are the bare bones of our essence and for nothing else, this film forces the hand of looking at the inevitability of such a scourge.
May 2010. Cold. Windy. Already lost one box of strawberries and bell peppers. Larry was out in the garden, we figured, at least 14 days solid, all day into the sunset pulling knarly weeds, choking mint and rosemary plants and planting a lovely creamy David Austin Ambridge Rose, a climbing Joseph's Coat and flowers that will spread nicely. How many trips to the mega store for more soil and organic fertilizer? Too many to count. Never mind the broken down gloves ripped from thorny bushes.
We added more clay pots to our already eleven Earthboxes filled with vegies and tomatoes and honest to God, those vegies in the clay pots are thriving with zucchini already. We came upon a very natural spray from http://www.spray-n-growgardening.com and ordered what was necessary to reboot the garden. It is already working big time after one week of spray. We plan to do an every 2 week spray during the blooming season.
It isn't over yet. Purple and pink salvia await a planting. I need a bird bath because the birds are bathing in a old Italian bowl I left on the ground. I need an umbrella for the patio table because the winds have ripped huge holes in it over 9 yrs. If you look too hard or too far, there is always something you have to fix or replace.
Hmmmm. I wonder if Mango trees would grow up here in the Sahara?
A wild and wooley Easter rocked the big house in Laguna Niguel taking the shake from the surprising Baja Earthquake. We thought it was the second round of French 75's cocktails that made us feel like we were a canoe on the open sea. But then the big pool swooshing water overboard. Uh Huh. I watched my sister's eyes get big as we held onto the kitchen island. Did we time it? No, but it felt like a minute of rolling. After that, we went for a third round.
Our 91 year old Dad and 83 year old Mom took the rolling in stride. After all, how many earthquakes have they been through?
The big BBQ was a success and sisters and nieces, nephews and uncles joined in the fun of a beautiful blue sky, an unsettling earthquake and enough food to choke a horse.
Spring has sprung and soil has been flung. Larry had the bright idea of removing various overgrown lavendars and geraniums and rose bushes that struggled against odds. Once the ground lay bare, trips to the various and sundry nurseries ( count 5)revealed a plan. But what to plant that would withstand the morning sun and the evening shade? Henry Fonda yellow rose tree won the first round followed by our first try at two azaleas. Some Zion daisies filled in along with verbena. I have no idea what else Larry planted. A variegated leafed something with some hopeful flowers blooming. Alot of wood chips and dirty jeans ended that project.
In the backyard for two weekends in a row in between unexpected showers, we planted eleven Earthboxes with pickling cucs, Japanese cucs, zucchini in pots as well, lots and lots of tomatoes, strawberries ( a first - well we'll see with our bird friends), lots of multi colored bell peppers. We had some clay pots around and we filled it with gigante jalapeno plants, green bunching onions, basil, and herbs.
I have an aversion to bean soups. Or rather they have an aversion to me. I love the taste, but I suffer with digestive aftermath. So I set out to figure a soup that would change the course of those events. People that know me say I modify or "doctor up" every recipe I find. In this case, I took about 5 different variations and made them my own. Trust me, the taste is so heavenly and you won't regret it.
BLACK TURTLE BEAN SOUP
1. 1 Bag of Aromatica Organic Black Turtle Beans ( dry )emptied and soaked overnite in cold water 6-9 hours. 2. Drain the old water and rinse a few times. 3. Pour beans in a big pot with fresh cold water- cover beans. I use a large enameled cast iron pot. 4. Bring to boil- won't take long and then drain again. 5. Pour boiled beans in a bowl and set aside. 6. Olive oil and 1 Tbs. butter in cast iron pot heated up. 7. Saute' 2 cloves of garlic whole, 1 chopped onion,1 finely chopped raw carrot, 4 chopped stalks of celery, 3 dried red chili's, 1 sweet red bell pepper chopped, 1 chopped fresh jalapeno seeds removed, 1 chipotle chili, a healthy dash of ancho powder(achiote), lemon zest and orange zest and juice of 1/4 orange, herbs of choice: I used oregano, basil, coriander, parsely, cilantro, fennel seeds and mustard seeds( found in the East Indian store), about 3/4-1 cup of frozen organic corn. Let all that sweat while sauteeing. If you like cumin, which I don't, go for it. 8. Add 6 cups of water. I added about a cup of homemade chick broth I had as well. 9. Add beans and bring to boil. Make sure water covers beans. 10. Skim off any foam that builds from the boiling. I didn't have much. 11. Now reduce to a simmer, cover the pot and time it. You will be cooking it with occasional stirs for about 2-3 hours. 12. Last 30 min: add 2 Tbs. sherry, 1 Tbs. brown sugar ( optional), juice of one lemon, and if you have handy, some leftover chopped ham. I only used about 1/2 cup.
NOTICE I DID NOT SALT WHICH HARDENS THE BEANS.
I added salt at the end for taste. And I actually simmered it for 4 hours just to make sure the beans were thoroughly cooked down.
Last measure: puree with the hand blender, pour into bowls with a spring of cilantro and a dollop of sour cream if you are not dairy sensitive.
Serve with heated up Trader Joes Spelt rolls ( in freezer) if you are not spelt sensitive. A salad and you are good to go.
Sometimes we have to stop and be in awe of what is greater than our flesh and bones, our things, our little life.
The magnificence of what is encased within our biology, our quantum mind and our consciousness grows into a vastness we cannot comprehend in the here and now. What went before us, will come behind us and what exists in the present that opens the door to all change makes us wonder about what the award winning novelist Octavia E. Butler said in her book of hope and faith in a post apocalyptic world " Parable of the Sower", that God is Change.
So how could any of us stay the same, think the same ol', when change surrounds us every living moment? Change allows us to re-invent ourselves, to experience so we can grow in different dimensions, to see with new eyes and hear with new ears.
I've never been to Dodger Stadium. What kind of LA girl am I? There are a few places in this mighty town I have yet to visit. When my sister told me that our nephew, Marc, a junior at UCLA on the varsity baseball team was going to bat against USC in the Dodger Stadium this weekend, the first of the Dodgertown Classic, ever, I downloaded directions and took the whirlybird ride up Stadium Way. There is a synchronous electric feel to the air and sure enough, my sister and family drove up from Orange County right behind us at Parking Lot ball #3.
Okay I felt a little out of place not wearing the UCLA flag across my chest and behind but blue has never been my favorite color anyway. I was there for the screaming excitement watching my nephews team beat the ass off USC.
And they did. In front of 14,448 enthusiasts blanketing the left and right field pavilions.
Oddly my brother-in-law led the parade toward foul ball territory right behind the alumni tubas and beating drums. Not to mention the guy eating nonstop candy and yelling out the names of the players coupled with a mix of the appropriate insults and way-to-go's through the UCLA megaphone every few minutes. We cheered. We screamed til our throats went raw.
Then the foul balls came at us, as predicted by our Brother Phil who spent time on the field in the old days with the Philadelphia Phillies minors. Sure enough. My sister Cathy covered my head and saved my life. Brother-in-law Mike caught the ball and let it fall into a neighbors lap.
We watched our nephew Marc steal bases and reveled in the glory of a 6-1 Victory over the Trojans. Did we eat a Dodger Dog? No. The line would have lasted two innings and the line was slow so we saved our appetites for a dinner afterwards.
What was grand was the company kept and the joy shared and the big hugs and knuckle slaps. We gathered for our boy Marc and the long hard work of his team mates. And of course, a Dodger first for me. Happily, my husband remembered his one time visit to the center field pavilion. At ten years old,(53 years ago) he and his Dad saw a game and he caught a home run ball. Without his glove!
For a while now I have been reading international forums, out of curiosity. I wanted to know what people are saying, feeling, knowing about their placement in this world, in this Universe. My search has been provocative, bringing me to heights of interest and wonder. Across the world people are thinking as I do, asking the same questions and then we share and each of us picks up a piece of the atomic energy that floats ineluctably across the miles of space that has our collective signature upon it. I ask a man in Uruguay or a women in Sweden, or a young man in the backwoods of Canada what thrills them about this knowing and what is the catalyst for their quests. We debate, we justify, we link up our resources, we try not to generalize. So the search is not disengenuious. There is a clear cut motive why people want to know why it is that they keep searching for higher answers as to their existence.
Some cite their belief in God, a force, a consciousness that pervades the Soul Matrix. Some want to know why we have been thrust into a world that is comprised of so much evil and dark energy. Some use science or metascience or cycles of the ancient past to qualify their hints of understanding. A book, some research, a notion, a crop circle, a newly discovered document that may give a clue.
A woman in New Zealand fights for the rights of health and argues justifiably against the constraints of covert corporate chains. We all want to know why. After all, we were endowed with enough DNA to ask these questions that plague us throughout the histories of this planet. The common thread is why haven't we advanced technologically and intellectually and spiritually? What is holding us back that steeps us in the mire of depression and poverty consciousness? Are we not children of God filled with the Primal Light of the heavens?
My experiences in cyberspace are selective. I might find a forum that accepts all ways of thinking so I have to dig through the garbage dump to find the gold. But its there. There are questioning and answering minds that hover and wait for the connection. An hour or two to explore. To share what miniscule wisdom I can impart as I dodge the snarky prickly ones who lie in wait to use their unconvincing arguments as their intoxicant for the hour. It has taught me to be bold but also to be nonjudgmental and considerate. We all are feeling our way with blindfolds on.
How many of us have had to DIY when something in the house broke down? Uh, none of you? Some of you? Is it easier to call the maintenance guy? But all those bucks!
No one is going to believe this but its true. In the last 30 days we experienced an electrical break down of things we never would dream would disappoint. Let me detail. The two weeks before Christmas our 2007 Refrigerator still on warranty just started whining this wail that kept us up at night. Then the temperature wouldn't hold and we knew -- some part was not doing its job. We called the place that we had purchased it, waited half a week until the maintenance guy came out to check. "Yep, it needs a part I don't have and need to order. It may take weeks." This wasn't happening. Christmas was upon us. I needed to shop and store food. I sent my husband to the appliance dept in that store and said, "buy a new frig. We'll store this one or sell it but we have no choice." So he went and found a deal, same frig only better lighting. It arrived a week later. I had to hold off buying food until the eleventh hour. Ask me if I was in a mood. Three weeks later they found the part needed and fixed the old frig which now takes up room in the garage along with my old washer and dryer, "just in case my son moves out."
Next on the long list was the disc player in our just paid off SUV. Worse yet, I could not un-jam it or pull out the old discs. Everything is electrical and computerized and I was told not to play with it. It was a goner and until we could get it fixed, it would sit. We do not get much in the way of AM/FM up here in the canyons and high desert so I sing in the car now.
Following the disc player was the nine year old garbage disposal. For years I had been so careful not to plug it with celery, onion skins, egg shells or coffee grounds but that wasn't good enough. We went to Sears and knew there would be a cost for the item which was pleasantly on sale plus another hundred to call a maintenance guy. The nice man in Sears said, "why call him? I put in my own garbage disposal and I just followed the instructions. Save your money." So that is exactly what we did. But while my husband was under the sink, he found another problem. A leaking water filter, also nine years old. As they say, the number nine represents completion of a cycle. So, that will be the next step while I step over the wet rugs that lie over the laundry baskets to air out and the crates of cleaning junk.
Moving right along I should mention another nine year old problem. Replacing the stove grates that cleaning does not do it justice anymore. Just thought I would add that to the list while we are at it.
The flusher on the toilet was not doing well. To push it down sounded like a plane landing on the tarmac so we lifted the hood on the darn thing and rearranged a few things. You can always gizmo a rod or a spring. It works now but no, plumbing is not on our DIY list.
Two nights ago, we had settled comfortably into our living room after a knarly day at work, to watch some of our TIVO'd programs. We heard a crash and a loud grating sound that knocked our eardrums crazy. The picture faded on our five year old 52 inch wide screen and then a sound likened to a lawnmover that was chewing up a piece of wood followed. My husband started pushing buttons but the sound persisted until we unplugged the TV. My spouse is very devoted to a cause and that cause carried him into the middle of the night exploring and surfing the internet on parts. But what he did find was a company that gives free advice and then offers parts shipped. The diagnosis was made over the phone and parts ordered much cheaper than if another, you guessed it, maintenance guy came out to check and repair. We watched a few back episodes on the computer but reading took the place of TV-itis.
I didn't mention the dryer. It had backed up with soot and what not and we spent an hour vacuuming THAT out. And during the escapades of repair, we were visited by communities of ants during the rainy season.
I think we are beginning to accept the fact we are not cursed and life can be easy and smooth again. The stressload of one thing after another was over. We think. What we learned was hand wringing is unnecessary and that DIY is the way to go if you have the bravado to do so.
We stopped the paper two years ago after I couldn't stop sneezing from the newspaper ink. But that wasn't the reason. I found myself starting the day with doom and gloom. Our breakfast time, a holy beginning should not be poisoned with that preposterous hoopdedoodle. As expected I got the daily phone calls from the Times and humble offerings I should not be able to refuse just to start up again. Two years later I found a letter from them in my mailbox that knocked down my prior $44.00 monthly payment to $6.00 a month. I think that is the bottom line desperado ploy of a dying institution.
Yesterday a true blue 79 year old patient I've known for almost 30 years came into the office and told me that over the holiday season he especially had to battle against negativity in the news and all around, as he put it. This is a man who prefers a good inspirational book.
The complexity of how we are mind controlled into thinking that news is good, after all, we need to know what is happening in the world just stinks to the highest heaven. To be bombarded by what we are not, what does not serve us and what creates havoc in our purest hour is the challenge we face and must combat. If we do not, our ungrateful bodies mental, emotional and physical will tell us the consequences of that unforgivable sin.
If the rhetoric on the news makes us nod so hard our neck snaps we get into the compliancy of yeah! If the news forces its hand and makes us sick of hearing the same gawdawful broken record we get irritable. What is the percentage of good news being broadcasted? We hold in reverence the loud boisterous commentary reporters funny or not because they are well, loud and forcing their point. Who wouldn't listen to that? Like the guy who screams about the stocks. At the top of his lungs with the arm gestures. Our insecure hand is being forced to hold onto the fear.
This is not entertainment. This is a living hell of banter and disinformation and contrived and blown so far out of proportion events that make every channel on the television choke with it. Even if we hit the mute button on the remote we still get the banner across the screen. How would a caged animal react to being inundated with this kind of noise hour after hour, day after day?
But thank God for the mute button and the fast forward arrow. The few good shows I watch does not need the distraction at commercial time to learn about a new drug that has 1400 side effects including death.
So here is your test of courage this New Year. Don't watch the news. Stop your paper subscription. Pass on the Internet news pages. Don't engage in "the world is going to hell in a hand basket" conversation. We are mortals who have come to serve each other in grace and goodness. We need not be tainted or plummeted with information we can live without.
