Friday, February 03, 2017

Angry Towel

The towel glared at the second story window, 

Waiting for my face to appear, 

Waiting to show me its anger

Wagging its soggy tail 

in the drizzly morning breeze. 

It shivered all night on the clothesline

While I slept between




Quetzalcoatl, Lord of the Dawn, 

Brightened the room

with bright pastels,

Making my eyes smile

as I yawned, breathing in

the new morning.

My feet carried me outside

to greet the morning mist. 

She blew me a dewy kiss 

As she swished a breeze 

to tickled the perpetual climbing rose bush

into giggling. 

The tear soaked towel perched on the clothesline

Waiting impatiently for me to walk by.

It leapt from the line 

And doused me without asking permission. 

“You neglected to address my complaint, 

Or even say hello,” it hissed. 

Sadness jumped onto a breeze

And pounced on me

Completely pushing out



of intent

I had

to do


"Tis my turn

To play my game,

My way,” the towel blustered.

“Tis time for you

to practice being in pain.

I didn’t want your soggy tears

that sting my fur with death.”

“BUT MY SON IS DEAD,” I cried.

The towel fluttered its tongue at me.

“I refuse to sing a dirge for your son. 

His hands never touched me

Never folded me

And never, ever caressed me.

I didn’t want your soggy tears

that sting my fur with death. 

We are here and he is not,

Nor will he ever be.

“Tis time for you

to practice being in pain.”

 I winced

And wished my tears would pour 

And take the sadness with them.

The dewy mist licked my face 

Contributing the liquid for my tears.

I held the towel in my hands and cried,

“Nor did I

want my soggy tears

to sting your fur with death.”

Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Happiness is temporary and wonderful

Happiness is temporary and wonderful. I hear people say that they wish they could be happy all the time. You can't jump rope all day, no matter how much you enjoy it. We are creatures that need contrast to make out our way.
Tahlia Newland, interviewed me from Australia on her Happiness Hints program. Click on the link to go to the YouTube interview.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Aunt Lucy's Christmas Eve Secret

Not all sad and tragic Xmas stories end on a sad note.
In the early 1950s my Uncle Carlos was driving home in the snow from a Christmas Eve party. He drove off the road and into a parked bulldozer. Aunt Lucy was holding their baby, Margarita, in her lap. The baby died. I remember the little white coffin that they placed baby Margarita into. My cousins were in casts and stitches. It was a very sad Xmas.
Forty years later, our own son died. During our son’s funeral, Aunt Lucy pulled Denise and me aside. “I have a secret to tell you,” she said while holding our hands. “You know how I would forbid everyone from entering my kitchen on Christmas eve while I spend the day baking cookies and other Xmas treats.”
“Yes,” I said. “We all love the aroma of your kitchen on Christmas eve. And we love what you bake. You are the best cook in the family.”
Aunt Lucy squeezed my hand and shook her head. “People think I bake and cry every Christmas ever because I love this time of year. But that’s not true. I cry because my daughter died on Christmas eve. I grieve for her every year. And yet, it is not so bad. Because I can bake and make everyone happy and they helps me, too.”
Aunt Lucy’s words stunned me. Our son died about 8 weeks earlier. Grief squeezed its burning tentacles around my heart. Would I be hurting like this for the next 40 years?
The following Xmas was overwhelmingly sad. I walked the shopping malls, by myself, trying to find presents for Denise. I dragged my smile-less face behind me as I trudged down the store aisles. I left several times empty handed. I ended up buying Denise everything on her list on Xmas Eve that year.
Time heals. It didn’t take long to understand better what Aunt Lucy was telling us. Yes, we will continue to grieve, but, when we give of ourselves, the grief diminishes and life gets brighter. Yes, there is an empty spot under the Xmas tree. And although we may place a few tears in that spot every year, we can smile knowing that his organs allowed four other families to enjoy more Xmas’s with their loved ones. His death, although tragic for us, has brought us other gifts as well, some continue to unfold.

Friday, December 23, 2016

The Blessing of the Dark Side

“You don’t know the power of the Dark Side,” Darth Vader said.

We tend to associate evil with the Dark Side. But that is a far too limited view.

The winter solstice has arrived. We are emerging out of the darkness and into the light. Although the days are getting longer, the dark nights still prevail. Take this opportunity to go to your own Dark Side and expose it to your own inner light. We are human and therefore dualistic. We sometimes become who we are NOT in order to evolve into who we are becoming. We have done things that we are sorry for, that we regret; things that are unkind, mean and cruel. And we have learned that those actions have not been beneficial to us. 

Bring your past Dark actions into the new emerging light and ask yourself. "What have I learned from these?" Write them down. Create your own ceremony in which you take what you've written and offer them to the new light of the fire and emerging season. As your past Dark actions burn, forgive yourself and know that even those dark actions have helped you evolve.

There is a great healing power in self forgiveness. When we forgive ourselves we can more readily see the divinity and the marvel that we really are. And then we are more easily able to be  better humans. 

Next write down the type of person you are hoping to evolve into and the personal qualities that you want to increase and offer those to the emerging season and the fire as well. Invite loved ones to join you in this ceremony to make it more powerful.

Wednesday, November 30, 2016

Sacred Moment - Synchronicity - Little Bird

Sacred Moment


Little Bird
I looked up at the clear blue expanse of sky this morning as I swam a modified back stroke in the outdoor university pool. I thanked Father Sky for protecting Mother Earth and for bringing us the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Clouds, the Rain, and the wind. I thanked the winged creatures for their gifts.

After I got home and took a shower, I opened my earring box. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and asked my helping spirits, “Who will I represent today?” I put my hand into the box and pulled out my metal feather earring. I thanked my winged helping spirits as I put the earring on.

Our dog stood by the front door barking, as I walked down the stairs. I went to the front door to see what made Ginger bark. I saw Denise crouching near the ground, under the camellia tree, holding something in her hand. I opened the front door and stepped out. She turned her head very slowly. “I have a bird,” she whispered. She told me that the bird had crashed into our glass front door. 

I stood behind her and shape-shifted into something less frightening than a human. I called on Mother Earth to move through me to bring healing to the little winged creature in Denise’s hand. Denise took great care in standing up and moving into the sunshine. She sat down on the grass. I walked slowly and stood next to her. I drew healing energy from Mother Earth through me and directed it to the little gray bundle in Denise’s hand.

The little brownish gray bird blinked. The top of his head sported a brushstroke of reddish brown. His wings glistened with a splash of iridescent green on their sides. He turned his head to the left to look at Denise and then lifted it higher to look at me. He turned his head to the right and stared at Denise and then at me. He blinked again a few more times. He seemed content to sit and get his bearings.

I continued to hold sacred space while feeding healing energy from Mother Earth to the little winged creature. The sun warmed our backs. Denise moved her hand into the sunshine. The bird’s colorful highlights shone more clearly. The little bird opened his beak, turned his head back and forth, and attempted to move its wings. It rested a moment and then he flew into the nearby hedge under our elm tree.

I wished the little winged earthling well. I thanked the helping spirits. Denise stood up and gave me a heartfelt gaze with her beautiful blue eyes.
“That was a sacred moment,” she said.