Move to Laguna Niguel

Strands Beach only a few minutes away!













Some would say "you should have your heads examined" with an unplanned move two hours south of your present home. The actual plan came out of the day of my Father's funeral when family looked at us and said you need to be down here with us. It didn't take an act of Congress to emotionally connect with that statement. Finances were thrown to the wind and we scurried around an almost impossible schedule to reach our immediate goals. But what were they?

We left our present office, found a sweet vintage refurbished one level building with vintage gates and shady trees in the heart of a simple Hispanic neighborhood, not far from our beloved office in the early nineties. Without the high rent. Impossibly cheap and saddled with a gem of an owner. This came not too suddenly but in Divine timing. We made it work and our patients complied with ease.




The next phase was short selling our home. What else could we do with everyone else on the block going in that direction? Many homes sat, but as God would have it, a perfect realtor who I found through mere intuition from looking at her picture and then finding a friend in this woman. She was the conduit for luring in a buyer in record time. We boxed, we stressed in between driving weekly to the south coast looking frantically for a residence. My sis connected us with her dear friend who is now, you guessed it, a dear friend. It did not come as quickly as we expected, four months of grueling searches preceded our find. The funny thing was that we looked at property all around the very spot we were to rest. We asked that God go before us and in that Divine Order it came upon us in such a generous way. Everything on our wish list was granted and we are endowed with a good relationship with the owner who is also a health professional.


We moved on July 6 2011 with a moving team sent to us straight from the highest heaven. Surely life will follow in a straight path from that day on! It took many weeks to unpack, even with the help of my sisters and family. Each day we ended it with a glass of wine, good food and a view unsurpassed of the ocean in the distance.

Our trade off for accepting this dreambag was traveling up to L.A. twice a month to maintain our patients schedules. Smiles and adjustments went hand in hand. Our patients were happily content and never missed appointments.

Phase four is now finding office space in our new neighborhood. More to comment on that.

We are back to gardening and soaking up some good sun and having a normal life, thank you God, with our family.

My Dad 1919-2011

My first memory of Dad was when he took me to the Jersey Shore. I might have been barely a full grown toddler and most afraid of the massive pull of the tide. Dad held my hand tightly and walked me gingerly into the ocean. My fear was profound but his hand was my anchor. He told me not to be afraid for he would always be with me. I carried that trust even as I placed a rose on his casket this week. I am confident he will be in touch with my spirit and receive me home when my hour arrives.

I've written about Dad before in my blog but now wish to add a few more thoughts. He was graced by my Mother who gave stewardship to him in a good way for Dad was always most appreciative and taught us kids to be so for our Mother. When the appointed time drew near, he slipped away in her arms and my two sisters arms, governing angels that they were. Each of us felt the prick of his absence, his final wave goodbye and will show tribute in the days and years to come, in the many ways he left his mark.

It is written, there is no immunity from life's sorrows and in attempting to protect ourselves from pain by simply closing a little to life cannot save us. Often we are afraid that if we touch our pain we will be swallowed up by it and deem us dysfunctional. If we become so overwhelmed with grief, all the good in our life will be inaccessible to us. When pain is large we feel we cannot expand enough to hold it all. Yet when we are with pain we somehow can retrieve parts of ourselves and are able to once again love those parts.

Wisdom is often born, they say, in the shadows and more is visible in darkness than in light. Oddly, sorrow and joy do not cast shadows because they provide the steady glare of illumination. Wisdom stretches us beyond where we even thought we could go to tell ourselves the truth. Wisdom asks us to choose life, and to experience it fully.

My father, being poignantly honest, lived each experience of life fully. Challenges were welcomed, brainstorming was commonplace. He golfed, sat on bleachers, drove miles and miles to work with a team of salespersons leading them to embrace the best they could offer, he had a memory for numbers, events, history. His penchant was reading inspiring works, praying dutifully, eating wonderful food passionately. His wisdom came from struggling years as a child having very little, to fighting in a world war to understanding the complexity of humanity. He was a teacher without a degree, a Godly force without a clergyman's collar, a coach without a team. With every hat he wore he lead by that example. That wisdom I continue to carry. He also allowed himself to love well and for 92 years while being fully present, because he knew that doing so gave back to the essential Sacred Mystery of God that sustains all life.

If I could sum up what he left as his legacy was to never devalue those things we treasure and see and touch the Divine in everything and in each other. And to hold a heart full of peace.

Ciao Daddy.
Til we meet again . . .

Merry Christmas Family!

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.

Manipulation of the Human Psyche

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.

4. Trust replaces the instinct of self-preservation. It over-rides memory and logic. Controllers and shepherds encourage trust. 5. When threatened with loss of possessions, property, access to health care, etc., people turn to government(predators) for help, or/and organized religion. Should an individual persist in pushing for his "rights," he will be removed from society and placed in a psychiatric hospital or prison on any number of pretexes. The alternative is death by "accident," or shot by police while 'resisting arrest.' © 2007 Alan Watt

Family Night Out

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.

Stelligs Michael

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.

Synchronicity

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.

Have you started that list yet?