Dearest Gianna

Friday night my husband and my friend Kevin came over with his son Max. They were our weekend house, really dog, sitters while we made a brief trip to Denver for my goddaughter's Baptismal.

I was a little anxious. For one I'm no longer a fan of air travel, and I used to be such a great flier. Also, I anticipated we would be entertaining when my husband and my most important duties were to prep/pack for our brief interlude. As well, I tasked myself with putting dinner on. Even simple pork chops take some time to get on.

Admittedly, we ended up having one of the most harmonious nights I can remember in our house. After dinner, Kevin cleared plates. Max set up his bassoon. Terry got out our gift wrapping. I got out my stationery.

While I sat at the table, pouring out my heart in writing to my dear goddaughter, my loving husband meticulously wrapped her gift. Max practiced his bassoon, which he's quite good at. And Kevin entertained himself watching a movie cuddled up with our dog Millie. You know that really warm feeling you get when the moment is just right. Oh I got that feeling all over, starting smack dab in the center of my chest. Everyone was doing their thing, creativity filled the air. Everyone was at peace, enjoying themselves. We weren't keeping to ourselves either. Even as I was writing I took breaks to interact. Max would have us guess at the songs he played. Some of them recognizable, others a bit obscure. The room was full of the warmth of a peaceful, loving family. What great inspiration for the important writing work I had to do that night.

Here's the letter I hand wrote to accompany my goddaughter's gift:

Dearest Gianna,

I would very much like for your mom and dad to keep this for you so someday you will come to know my intended presence in your life. Your parents have bestowed upon me one of the greatest honors my life’s purpose has known. I am deeply humbled they asked me to be one of your godparents.

A godparent can be many things. A friend. A confidant. A guide. A care giver. I never had an official godparent. Still I had one very special person who modeled for me the most important thing you’ll ever know in your lifetime; unconditional love.

Your mother and I have a wonderful bond that goes beyond friendship. We love one another like brother and sister. We are family of our own divine choosing. Though at this time in your life we live hundreds of miles apart, upon your mother’s call I was there to meet you on the day you were born. What a glorious day that was, the skies were silver and gold. Your mother nearly crossed worlds to make certain you had the perfect birth, and she wouldn’t have hesitated to lay down her life for you. When you arrived such a bright new light you shone upon the world. You made your parents the two luckiest, happiest people on Earth.

On this day of your Christening I give you a reminder of my youth and the promise my life held for the world. Now I pass this onto you. My, now your, baby cup. Cups can be filled with water, representing life, purity, emotion and renewal. My love, always may your cup runneth over and we remain in each other’s hearts.

As a godparent it is my intention you know your own greatness with humility. Also, whether your cup is empty, full or somewhere in between, I vow to always be someone who will show up for you whenever you want or need me to be there for you.

Love without question, your devoted godfather,

B

We gave my goddaughter my silver baby cup, which my husband had hand engraved with her initials. He then polished and wrapped it exquisitely. I am so honored and deeply humbled to accept this role in Gia's life. I am also incredibly grateful.

As luck would have it, the largest wind storm on record blew into Town just as our flight was preparing to takeoff from SeaTac. As we taxied toward the runway, the plane listed side to side from the force of the wind gusts against the wings. We were still very much on the ground even. Looking out the windows was no help. Trees bent, leaves flew. As we rounded the turn onto runway one, all the construction equipment on runway two had white and red checkered flags whipping fiercely in the wind. This did nothing to calm my nerves about the uncertainty of a windstorm's affects on a plane attempting to make its way in the angry skies above. It was very bumpy ascension heavenward, and isn't that the perfect and most timely metaphor. With gratitude we had a safe trip to Denver and back. It's always so good to be home.

A few things I would like to briefly acknowledge about Denver. The first, when we arrived we got ourselves a little bite. I opted for a salad and apple juice at a "Parisian" style café cart. Terry got a bagel sandwich. My salad was uneatable. After I finished the apple juice, which was in a plastic cup, I noticed a spot of black mold on the underside of the lid. I brought the items back. The gal at the register asked if I wanted another. I declined, asking for a refund and pointing out you cannot serve food like that to people. She was flustered by this.

We were greeted at the rental car company by the nicest guy ever. Though immediately upon exiting the rental car office, my husband and I were bitch slapped by a dust devil. We were spitting out dust for miles as we made our way into Downtown Denver.

Third, after giving my best friend the gift to accept on behalf of her child, we made our way back to our hotel just as some random neighboring city fireworks were being ignited. The lovely evening we spent at my best friend's grandma's house with her wonderful family was perfectly night capped with a splendid fireworks display. This more than made up for the DIA welcome we initially received.

Happy Medium

Meet Reverend Judith Laxer, one of my longest time spiritual guides. To know this warm soul is to love her. My very best friend referred me to Judith some 10 or more years ago.

I see Judith about every six months to a year or so. It really depends. She's like an oracle, nurturer and regardless of belief she just delivers truthful insights.

Today I went to see her about foremost my health. I'm looking ahead and certainly not forward to some oral surgery in a couple weeks. My practitioner warned this type of procedure could be physically disfiguring. I'll admit, I have some ego around appearance. Most humans do. More than that, as I settle into fortysomething (which tends to seem old when I articulate that), I, like most humans at this stage in life, am faced with aging. For the past few years I've been focused on recovering my health. While my health recovery is certainly still a focus, and barring anything other than natural causes of aging, it's possible I'm much nearer to the end of my life than the beginning of it.

So the possibility of some facial changes resulting from surgery still relates to ego. For me, it has more to do with a visible sign in the aging process than anything. Since embarking on my very long path to healing a few years ago, people in my everyday life have taken notice of my self care. I've shed excess weight. My skin has improved. In fact I've heard people around me say on several occasions I'm reverse aging.

Yes, I do realize I'm inevitably going to age. While I have grown wiser with age, there is still a very playful, youthful part of my being that has always resided in me. This aspect of my self I hold core to who I am, who I've always been and who I want to always be.

At the beginning of each session, Judith takes a personal object of mine and "reads" it. Today it was my ring, which she holds in both hands as she focuses with her eyes closed on the feelings she receives from it.

I close my eyes, too, and I let go of outcome to focus more of my energy into her thought wave. Today it took no time at all before Judith broke silence.

"First, I really want to acknowledge all of your changes," she said. "It's like you've leaped up from here to here." She moved her hand from the tabletop considerably upward, looking me deep in the eyes.

"On an emotional and spiritual level you have really come such a long way. You're vibrating at a much higher level." Judith added in a tone filled with loving, joyful encouragement.

I would be remiss if I failed to mention how much that means to me. My health journey has been such a profound struggle. Sometimes I wonder what the point is. I'm just going to die anyway. For me, there is something deeper that's driving my belief I'll get better, things will get better, my life enjoyment will vastly improve. This life is all I know, and I have people who depend on me. Judith's encouragement alone today meant so much to me. I really needed to hear it. I know my husband who sees me everyday grows weary of my seemingly constant, physical challenges.

Before we get into the tarot, Judith has me draw three dolphin cards, representing body, mind and spirit. I drew the following:
Body- Peace
Mind- Taking care of what we have
Spirit- Laugh out loud (could certainly benefit from much more of that - this life thing can be such serious business)

We further explored what's ahead via the tarot. I asked around my upcoming surgery, and the cards appeared to confirm now is the time to have done what I'm planning to have done. Also that my upcoming procedure is going to be a painful process and will take me quite some time to heal from. Judith advised me to get my naturopath's advice for before and after surgery care, which is very sound. Surprisingly it's not something that occurred to me. Overall she said my body is taking a long time to heal, and to allow it to stay the course without expectation of outcome. The good news is that I am still healing. I know this to be true.

What I'm also really excited to share is about Judith's wisdom as it concerns my questions about my career and writing. Well the first part isn't too exciting, and that is I'm bored to tears with my current profession. The blessing there is it's supporting my life, which is important. According to the cards the coming of age story project I'm working on is serving me very well. It's helping me further heal old wounds and reconnect with a time that seemingly didn't make much sense to me then. Now with a wiser perspective I can more confidently connect all the dots. While this story may not be a bestseller, it's wonderful practice. She urged me to not structure it, allow it to write itself, which has been mostly the case. Judith most importantly impressed upon me to speak my hard truth.

She paused for a moment before saying she got the sense I'm working on three stories, and then advised me to braid the three stories together. I found it interesting she used the word braid. My story takes place around 1990. Hours before seeing Judith I had written about those God-awful braided belts worn back then, the kind that were looped in a knot after the buckle. When I shared this with her she said it gave her a chill. The same symbolic word showed up for us both on the same day. That's pretty synchronistic if you ask me. Now I have a more profound use for the word, and I could not be more grateful. Though part of me had a sense the story didn't necessarily have to be chronological, and it would likely be more interesting to the reader if it weren't, I think I have a wonderful new direction to take my work.

Judith also remarked about a sadness she sensed about my story and she asked me what that was about. I told her it's about being deeply remorseful for all that was great at the time and not having appreciated those people and experiences for what they were then. A great life lesson learned many years too late, to live in the moment with gratitude. Judith acknowledged such a feat to be highly challenging, even for those who have matured. We all know this to be true. So is it human nature to be discontented or is this something we're programmed to learn as children?

Next I asked about my role as godfather to my best friend's daughter. This I felt timely in preparation for my trip to Denver the following morning. According to the cards I will be the child's spiritual versus religious guide. Then Judith asked me if the child's parents had made any particular request of me. I shared that her mother had once remarked about me being her daughter's spiritual guide. Then Judith said my influence on the child will be most impactful in her teen years, and mostly as a role model. Imagine that, me as a role model? That is serious business. I regard such matters with profound duty.

At the end of the reading I am to draw one last card from the deck. The last card I drew was the Ten of Pentacles. Even reversed, the Ten of Pentacles is generally a very positive omen. This is not, however, a time to gamble with security and things that are important; in other words, don't take silly chances. The reversed Ten of Pentacles in general says you have a great deal to be happy about, but you need to beware a sense of boredom, which often comes about when people are actually at peace. Don't shake things up for the sake of it. Count your blessings, at all levels. Truly words to live by ...

Do you believe in miracles?

Apparently this is from 2013, though just saw this story circulating on Facebook today. Interesting story. I love that which brings optimism into the world. Do you believe in miracles? Ever been witness to one?

Monkey Loft

Today I'm grateful for a couple significant interludes with friends. The first occurred midday. I met my longtime friend for lunch at Myrtle Edwards Park, which is at the very north end of the Downtown Seattle Waterfront. This friend confided in me about their substance addiction, realizing its taking a toll on their marriage and parenthood. By no means an insignificant topic of conversation.

Acknowledging I'm aware they do not expect me to have all the answers, I shared how grateful I am they told me what about this. I mean that, too. Regardless what brand of suffering someone is dealing with, it's so important to have someone to talk with about it.

The connection between the addiction and lack of emotional connection with others came to light during this conversation. I've read some scientific studies showing a correlation between strong community and lack of substance abuse/addiction.

My friend also confided feeling depressed, that their marriage is hanging in the balance. Also being a working parent, it's clear to see this could all quickly become overwhelming. I'm sure it already is. I asked my friend if there was one thing in their life right now that changed for the better and would have the greatest impact on her life, what would it be. They said their marriage. I fully supported their sincere answer and gave them a recommendation for a wonderful couple's counselor.

Being able to leverage the love of a solid marriage will surely benefit a battle with addiction. I can't foresee someone going it alone on that path. We also talked about change, whether they are truly ready for it. At first they tried to convince themselves or me they've been functional for so long. I reminded them their marriage being on rocky ground is likely a byproduct of the addiction.

Also, I am not a parent. I do understand parenthood to a degree as well as motherly instinct. I've also done my fair share of drugs over years past. So I'm no one to judge. Regardless of my experience I am no one to judge. I pointed out if they were using and some unfortunate accident occurred involving their child, they would be unlikely to ever forgive themselves. I know such circumstance would haunt me to my grave no matter how much I meditated.

I don't know what will come of today's exchange with my beloved friend. I am optimistic they are ready to change, to battle and triumph over the addiction. This is a long journey, not for the faint of heart. My friend has a wonderful, joyful and loving heart. Truly a good human through and through. We all have our demons.

Tonight my husband and I went out, to a club, a really cool ass club in SODO (South of Downtown). It's called Monkey Loft. They have a newish rooftop deck and two skilled DJs were at it. Apparently every Thursday in the summer months they have a free happy hour there. This coincided with another long time friend's birthday, which was actually yesterday. We were tight senior year.

His fiancé is a doll. She took me aside tonight to let me know what a positive difference I've made in her life. Apparently introducing her to my energist has helped her clear some things that she had been wanting to work through for quite some time. She also said friends of hers also experienced positive changes as a result of their work with my energist. I cannot take all the credit. My energist was referred to me by a dear friend, and my energist does incredible work.

Anywhere I can make a positive difference in someone's life, especially in these uncertain times, I am truly grateful, honored and humbled. My ego would like to take the credit. Truth be told these people did the work. They made the changes.

As my husband and I were leaving, there was a mix playing with lyrics which stated: "There's a force in the universe, all you need to do is get in touch with it, and let things happen ..."

Troubling Times?

This thread began with my cousin-in-law's post on FB today:

Dismaland

I would LOVE to go to Banksy's Dismaland! Unfortunately it's in the UK and I have no plans of visiting there within the next five weeks.

My husband is a mega Disney-phile. What he loves about Disneyland and Disney World is a utopian sense of meticulous perfection. One of his greatest joys is walking through the gates when they open to see Main Street still pristine and wet from its regular cleaning. Not a scrap of rubbish anywhere. Everything picture ideal. The innocence of this realm, which intensifies with his willing suspension of disbelief, is mystical. To him anyway.

Having such places like amusement parks and resorts does summon for deeper inquiry. For example, why do we need such places? We clearly must need them as they are so numerous and over the top. Such places couldn't exist and thrive unless people felt the need to patronize them.

Clearly a place like Dismaland is the art world's way of having us look in the mirror and question: What are we doing here?

What if we could in fact create some sort of utopian "Heaven on Earth." Is it that far fetched an idea? Perhaps.

The piece de resistance for Dismaland is the faltering castle, anchoring the exhibition. Inside is an overturned carriage with a blonde princess dangling upside down from it as Paparazzi fiercely rapid click their cameras to capture the moment from every possible angle. Sound familiar? Princess Diana much?

Herein lies another paradox. The Paparazzi wouldn't be employed if we didn't feed on their content.

Though the Dalai Lama is often attributed for this, David Orr put it best when he said, "The world doesn't need more 'successful people.' The world desperately needs more peacemakers, healers, restorers, storytellers and lovers of all kinds."

Amen. Namaste. Amituofo.

On the Brink

We live just outside Seattle in the fifteenth year of the new millennium. Ours is now one of the most prosperous and most well educated cities on Earth. Even so this comes at a great cost. Housing is in high demand and short supply. The haves have more wealth than is fathomable by most. The have nots grow in exponentially disproportionate numbers daily. Seattle outgrew its transportation infrastructure in the middle of last century.

Our climate appears to be rapidly changing. We just had the driest, warmest winter I can remember since 1981. More so, we just had the hottest, driest June and July months in our recorded history and the state's largest-ever wildfire. I look out at our hazy skies and remember a time when they were so clear and blue they almost resembled some brilliant fantasy illusion. Now the illusion is people’s understanding our natural environment is healthy and we can continue living out our current “civilized” course in perpetuity.

As sons and daughters of the Great Depression, our grandparents’ generation wanted to give our parents everything they never had and more, much more. After their second attempt to destroy Earth by means of war, they set out to conquer our world another way and serve it up to our parents on a fine crafted platter forged from Mexican mined silver. And so began the dawn of the modern, atomic and automated age …

The path to hell is paved with good intentions. I have to wonder whether our grandparents’ generation was that naïve to squander our world’s resources without pondering the consequence of their actions. Or did they have more intention behind their actions than we may now realize?

Our parents gladly accepted the gifts their parents gave them. For a time we gladly accepted the gifts our parents gave us. Some time along the way we began to see the signs of our misguided path. Illnesses; marred landscapes; loss of species. The list goes on.

With all of our wizardrous advancements in knowledge and technology, one would think we could once and for all solve the greatest problems in our world. And what if one day all of us suddenly awakened to the fact we are our own greatest problem? What then? How do we solve ourselves?

Those who lead us tell us they care about us and our interests. They are divided into two camps. The first camp insists we stay the course of resource squandering. They act to further divide the masses with in fighting about the ways in which we are different and they most ironically refer to themselves as conservatives.

The second camp understands as well as attempts in some ways to resolve our adverse impact on our world. They perpetuate the “us vs. them” in fighting among the masses through attempts to legislate basic human decency and they are called liberals. Both camps are manipulated by the most egregious of our world’s offenders, mega corporations, and both camps kneel to these entities in the name of their own self-interests, which are opposed to the Earth’s as well as the masses’.

To be clear, Earth is a perfectly designed, complex network of interdependent organisms which cohabitate in a delicate balance both at the benefit and detriment of one another. For life to flourish, death must initiate a new cycle.

Our world is wonderous, miraculous and spectacular. Humans are as well, to a point, perfect as their deepest flaw. We humans play upon this Earth like toddlers in a sandbox, digging around carelessly as if the box could never empty of sand while we build and destroy to our heart’s content. And when the sands run out, so too shall we.

OFF ICE

Do you ever look at words and wonder about their root or true meanings? I was sitting out front of a FedEx Office on Lower Queen Anne the other day. The word "office" signaling to me like a beacon. I still have and occasionally work in an office environment. Even so, the word kind of repels me.

First, divide the word in half. Off. Ice. Hmmm ... Here's the Merriam Webster's definitions:
: a building or room in which people work at desks doing business or professional activities
: a room with a desk where a particular person works

: a building or room where a doctor, lawyer, etc., works and meets with patients or clients

:  a special duty, charge, or position conferred by an exercise of governmental authority and for a public purpose
:  a position of authority to exercise a public function and to receive whatever emoluments may belong to it

Here's the word's origin:

The Latin root opus sure sounds very similar to middle and modern English word office. Let's go back to dividing the word in two. Off ice. Off as in to turn off, and ice is either frozen water or slang for methamphetamine.

For those who work in an office, when you are at work, do you feel and act fully self expressed? When we're at work, we're expected to be productive. So in a very real and of course metaphoric sense we're actually putting ourselves "on ice." Though when doing so it's probably a good idea to stay off the drug "ice."

Lastly I was listening to BBC World the other day on SiriusXM. They had a fascinating segment on the evolution of artificial intelligence (AI) and robots. We can now only theorize about such applications and how they will affect future (or even present) humanity. It could go one of two ways. Perhaps robots will take on the mundane tasks none of us really enjoy doing, allowing us to fulfill our wildest dreams. Perhaps robots will take away our livelihood, leaving many of us little if any purpose. Utopia or dystopia. Either way will it be up to humans do choose our fate? Whether we can or we can't we are ultimately going to be correct.

Look How Far We've Come

At the beginning of the millennium I recall all the hype about "it." This wizardrous thing proposing to revolutionize society. Ladies and gentlemen, behold the Segway 2000, customized in the Ferrari brand, seen browsing the aisles of my local Trader Joe's. Look how far we've come.

Bestie Phone Chatter

Bestie: OH MY GOD, did you see the video of your nephew Missy posted?

Me: I haven't, your text mentioned a certain narrator. Let me guess, it sounded something like "Heigh budgh-dee ..." Not to offend those who may have extra chromosome, that kid's dad sounds like a retard when he baby talks.

Bestie: He sounds like he's deaf. I just about died listening to him talk like that. It's horrible. Jace is really cute though.

Me: So hubby broke silence this morning. It's so silly. I mean, we're laying there in bed. At one point I was spooning him, and put my arm over him so I could pet the dog. A while later we turn and face the other way. He purposefully left space between us. So I say, "Be careful not to accidentally cuddle me. We wouldn't want that now would we. Maybe we should place some pillows between us." And he says maybe we should. So that's when I ask him why he's being a boob. He tells me he's not. Then says it's because I yelled at him the past two nights.

Bestie: And why did you yell at him?

Me: I yelled at him because he doused me, and my food, with Windex. Despite what you may have seen in the movies about fat Greeks getting hitched, Windex is a potentially harmful chemical. He says it's been around for 50 years. I told him so has he.

Bestie: OK, there's something going on below the surface of Windex.

Me: So I ask him how he's feeling. He tells me he's neither engaged nor disengaged as a coping mechanism. I say if he's not engaged than he's disengaged, then ask what he's coping with. He didn't want to tell me because he said I would just get pissed off. So I told him his husband would like to know and promised to listen. He then shared that he's tired of feeling like he doesn't have a voice. That I call all the shots down to what we eat. That I criticize him for eating things not on my list. One time that happened. He was eating KFC, I rolled my eyes and shook my head. A bit judgie, yes, it was KF-fucking-C.

Bestie: Yeah, my fiancé thought KFC was an acceptable thing to bring to a pool party in the hills. Um, no. That's the kind of food you bring home to eat in private and throw immediately away.

Me: No, that's the kind of food you eat in the privacy of your own car in the dark of night and immediately incinerate the evidence before returning home. He left those containers in the refrigerator for over a week!

Bestie: (sigh) Our bathroom hadn't been cleaned for three weeks. It was disgusting. The last time my parents were here, my mom wouldn't even step foot in the bathroom until she gave it a thorough cleaning from top to bottom. So part of Jordan and my counseling agreement is if he is going to do something, and he hasn't done it, he has to tell me when he's going to do it. So last week he tells me he's going to do it this weekend.

Me: And he finally got around to it?

Bestie: After I started pulling things like mats out of the bathroom. He more than got the hint and was a little upset. He expects me to be all nice about it. I was nice when we talked about it three weeks ago. Last week I started losing my nice. And this week between that and his empty water jug hoarding on the front stoop I just wasn't havin' it. Hello, if you don't want to be bossed around get off your ass and get shit done. I need a vacation. I want to go to Hawaii for maybe a long weekend when Gia's six months. Do you have any interest in going to Hawaii?

Me: Well ...

Bestie: I know, it's totally boring there.

Me: Boring can be interesting, I don't mind boring. I'd rather go to Sedona. You've been to Hawaii. Didn't you and your sister ride mountain bikes down the side of a volcano?

Bestie: Yeah, that's right, and I gave the only wedding toast for this couple who are friends of my sister. They stayed in this house they really couldn't afford. They had a bologna tray. Other than that there was no food, no beer or wine. It was a total joke, a really bad one. Like I was looking around for hidden cameras thinking we're being punked. Then they took us to this restaurant and we all had to pay our own way.

Me: How gracious?

Bestie: I know, right. Maybe I'll plan and surprise Jordan with a trip to Hawaii. So where did you leave things with Terry?

Me: That's just it, it's kind of nebulous. He apparently took issue with me moving money from my business into our joint account and paying off his car loan with it. We discussed and jointly agreed to do that. So I say, you're welcome. He says there's nothing to be grateful for. Really?!

Bestie: Wow, he sounds a lot like your mom, kind of entitled. Just expects things to be a certain way. How entitled.

Me: So then I ask him more about this last weekend and his feeling of being detached from his emotions. He said he has felt this way for a long time about me calling the shots. He said he wants to experience more joy and feels like he doesn't have a life outside of us. Those last two things have very little if anything to do with me. I also found it odd on Saturday we were essentially doing the same thing, working our asses off to clear space for finishing up our basement. He had a miserable day. I had a wonderful day. I was so happy I was able to do as much, that I had the stamina and endurance which has evaded me for the past few years. I felt so grateful. Then he tells me he was in a bad mood Saturday because he woke up cranky for me having yelled at him the night before. So we're back to his KFC containers in the refrigerator for more than a week, crowding out the real food in there. It's silly, I know, and I told him I'm not proud of either of my knee-jerk reactions over the weekend.

Bestie: He has the job he wanted and loves. He has a very nice car, which he loves. You guys have a beautiful home that has lovely furnishings. What doesn't he have? Someone like him would really benefit from having a daily gratitude journal.

Me: As hard as it was to listen to him criticize me, I did it with some degree of restraint. I even offered to work on my "control" issues. Then I said to him experiencing more joy is a very vague, broad concept and asked if he could let me know more about what that looks like. He said he doesn't know how to explain what that looks like. I let him know that along with him having a life outside of us is entirely up to him to change if he chooses. Then he clams up. I asked him to share with me what his ideas are for moving forward. He didn't utter a word for a while. Then he tells me he's tired. Yet I reminded him he woke us up at 6:00 a.m. watching TV on his phone. He said it was YouTube and Facebook. Video then, whatever, what's the difference? He woke us up and now he's conveniently tired because he's being questioned.

Bestie: You've done a lot. Whether he appreciates it is another thing. Kind of bratty if you ask me. He'll come around.

Me: So what will you do one day when I call and just want to talk with Gia?

Bestie: You can call her on her phone.

Me: She'll be too young to have a phone of her own for many years.

Bestie: Well then if you want to talk to her you can just buy her a God damn phone, and then you can fucking call her on it. How about that?

Me: Ed? Ed Montoya? Is that you? You're so your father's daughter.

Voyager's Gold Record

The Golden Record consists of 115 analog-encoded photographs, greetings in 55 languages, a 12-minute montage of sounds on Earth and 90 minutes of music. (J Marshall - Tribaleye Images / Alamy)

- Smithsonian Magazine

Apparently NASA has uploaded to the web the entire contents of the infamous gold record sent into deep space inside of the Voyager 1 spacecraft. Even though the media reported the spacecraft to have left our solar system in 2013, I heard or read somewhere it could take as long as 20,000 years if you include the comet belt surrounding it. The spacecraft travels at a rate of one million miles a day.

So the craft is now on a diplomatic mission as a representative of Planet Earth. Someday it may be intercepted by some intelligent extraterrestrial specie with billions more years of evolution on us, and one of the songs they include is Johnny B. Goode? Really? I'm a more than a little embarrassed. How about some sounds of the 70s, like Donna Summer. That would have been super groovy. Seriously, John Lennon's Imagine absolutely should have been on the play list. I call a do over.

You can learn more about the gold record contents through Smithsonian Magazine.

Quote of the Day

"You are being shagged by a rare parrot." - BBC Nature Show Host

Tom Brady Art

I wish I could take credit. A local news outlet posted a really un-newsworthy story about Tom Brady's courtroom sketch mug appearing Photoshopped on various memes that have gone viral. I posted that I'd love to see his mug on Munch's Scream. Thank you to Lucas Freilinger for fulfilling my request. Ask and ye shall receive. We both agree Brady's court sketch mug fits so well with the painting. #Art

Red Sun Skies

This stunning photo, shot this morning in Hansville, Washington, and posted to Facebook by KOMO News, is courtesy of Greg with Skunk Bay Weather. Our recent red sunrises and sunsets are apparently on account of wildfires. Though stepping out of the house this morning, the air smelled funny, and not like smoke. Almost chemically. It was a bit more than subtle and yet hard to describe.

Just before midday the skies became really dark, and then opened up to a furious downpour with grumbles of thunder and flashes of lightening. It's really some of my favorite weather.

Taking my show in the road for a lunch meeting with a new prospective business partner, I would have expected the downpour to have washed the skies and my car. Even after the storm has passed, the sunlight through the still hazy skies looks like the reflection off a shiny copper penny. My car looks like it was rinsed with really hard, mineral-heavy water which left it completely covered in gray water spots.

Even after the rain, the strange odor in the air remains along with the mystery ...

Time Capsule Part I

Over the course of my life I've accumulated a lot of crap. I mean a lot of crap. Here at home. In a storage unit. My brokerage office. My ex's home. Even my mom still had some of my contents she's given me since we moved her over here in the past year.

I have two afflictions; hanging onto crap and being lousy at organizing. As I continue with my meditative and Buddhist practices, it's only natural to create a clear, simplistic space to live out my days. Have you ever been in a Buddhist temple or monastery? They are some of the tidiest places on Earth. Not just from a minimalist standpoint. Some of them are dripping in ornamentation. Even so, everything has a place and everything is in its place. The purpose behind keeping a tidy house is it supports a clear, still mind.

Ever notice how much better you feel after you clean house? Maybe not? I do. I feel energized. Yet at times I get overwhelmed getting a start on things.

Yesterday I paid a visit to my ex and my former home on Beacon Hill. We bought it together on Valentine's Day 2004. It's a 1918 Craftsman, which was once such a sweet, charming place. It was in better condition when we had renters in it. Now the hillside is overgrown with blackberry brambles. The second story deck and carport look as if they're going to crumble with rot. The basement is still a cluttered mess. Part of the clutter is on account of my belongings, most of which I took with me during my visit yesterday.

My intention for clearing things out was more of a longer term strategy to simplify my own life. Consolidate my crap, getting rid of what I no longer need. Well, I don't technically need any of it. The one thing I really wanted was a box of my dad's old family Super 8 film reels. On a few occasions I've awoken from bad dreams that these treasures had been water damaged in that basement. The plumbing needs to be replaced and we've had leaks on boxes down there before.

Those reels contain irreplaceable family footage my dad shot going as far back as the early '60s. My intention is to have the reels digitized and then make a short film for my mom before she leaves this world. Eureka! There they were in my ex's basement, dry and undamaged. I'm so incredibly grateful.

My ex doesn't exactly roll out the welcome mat. In fact at our first apartment together his welcome mat said, "Go Away." He has always been a bit reclusive. He also isn't as on top of important home maintenance as I usually am. I'm not perfect either. He once had a water heater sitting out in front of the house for at least a couple years. And now I have one, though I suspect we'll drop it off to the scrap metal guy the next time we make a dump run in the coming weeks.

Part of me felt sad being at the house. Not because of a longing for it. I'm quite happy and content in the home I live in. Maybe this is purely my ego talking, I couldn't help feeling like I'm in some way responsible for him letting the house become run down.

Within the first year we bought it, we had the house repainted in farm colors; red exterior, white trim, mustard green doors and black accents. The home has about seven or eight forested park lots on either side of it; no direct neighbors. So we figured what the hell, why not be more expressive. It's really a cute house, it was, it could be again.

Living in that house I remember so much joy in my heart. Waking up each morning like it were Christmas day, a brilliant, exciting gift waiting to be unwrapped. I'd spring out of bed early, take my beloved Tido out to do his business, make a carafe of fresh ground French press and savor the morning with my little, furry white and black spotted buddy. Regardless of the state of my human relationship in that house at the time, I loved living there, the life we created there for ourselves and each other.

It's not my house nor my life anymore. My ex is responsible for his life. Even knowing this, I cannot help feeling like in some way he's worse off because of me. Like the home and grounds being in derelict condition represent an open wound that's still festering. This feels sad to me. My heart is heavy. I want my ex to be happy. I want him to live a good life.

He unearthed a picture of us with his brothers during our inaugural 2002 trip to San Pancho, Mexico, where we have a second home. I loved him and his family so much. I still do. I asked if I could have a copy of the picture. He handed me the framed picture and said I could keep it. I don't know that I will keep it framed and displayed in my home. I do cherish that time and the joys we once shared together.

As I continued to fall down the rabbit hole of my life's artifacts, I noticed I had saved a lot of correspondence. Among those items were cards, photos, unanswered letters and most egregious of all unanswered wedding invitations. While all my friends were getting married, I was barely making ends meet. Even so, in hindsight I'm sure a simple no on an RSVP card would have sufficed. I did find some letters and postcards I never sent. Before I judge myself as lazy, I want to first acknowledge I once lived a very full, active life. Only when I was a kid was I ever consistent with correspondence, until eventually that first BFF relationship fizzled out.

The more recent of those BFFs past is my high school partner in crime, and some of the most fun filled times of my life, Jeff. We have been "touch and go" for years. Meaning it may be years between contact. Contact is usually a written message, email, from one to the other and a reply, maybe a reply to a reply. I felt compelled to reach out, here's what I wrote him:

"Subject: Just want you to know ...
You've been on my mind as of late. Call it nostalgia or what you will. Regardless what each of us considers the other to be, I smile when you come to mind and want for your happiness. Most sincerely, B"

My greatest offense was clearly not writing more to my dad. I was really upset with him all those years ago. Perhaps not unlike the way in which he was upset with me. Maybe it all boils down to each of us having certain expectations of the other?

I still think on the time he ended the marriage with my mom as an era of great disappointment. Not that I wanted them to stay together in a loveless marriage. I wanted my parents to conduct themselves in a more respectable manner. My mom completely fell apart. My dad fell silent and contemptuous.

Combing through these artifacts has unearthed so much more than time for one post permits. Something has awakened inside of me. I was restless last night between 2:00 and 4:00 am. So much more to impart on another post ...

Bernie Sanders vs. Black Lives Matter?

 

Sanders v BLM KIRO TV screen capture

Allegedly the #BlackLivesMatter (BLM) movement derailed a Bernie Sanders speaking event yesterday in Seattle. Allegedly as I don't believe movement organizers sanctioned the interruption. I further believe the rally heist may have been hired out with paid plants. Let's look a little deeper into this ...

First, Sanders was a Congress of Racial Equality (CORE) officer in 1962. That January he led students in a multi-week student sit-in to oppose segregation in off campus housing owned by the University of Chicago. Clearly, Sanders has been on the right side of history with regard to racial equality.

So why would BLM want to trip up Sanders? I have no answer to this. I sent a message to BLM:
"Dear Leadership,
I'm writing as a concerned citizen and long time supporter of equality for all. Your movement would be well served to foremost back off of Bernie Sanders'' campaign. He has publicly been on the right side of racial equality, likely since longer than you have been alive. In fact, no better candidate to further equality could be running for the 2016 presidential election than Bernie. If your organization was not either directly represented or involved in yesterday's incident, you would be wise to investigate and find out who is behind the disruption(s). While you may be getting a little press play from this now, if you cannot manage your organization, your movement risks perishing into illegitimacy. Your cause is much too important to allow rebels without a clue to disenfranchise what you've been working so hard to achieve."

Here's my list of people and organizations that could be responsible for Sanders' recent campaign rally disruptions:
Hillary Clinton
The GOP
The Koch Bros.
The Federal Reserve
Wall Street

Here's the thing. The press had a heyday with this story. Sanders could not have hoped for better coverage and media play (mainstream as well as social).

In publicity there is no such thing as bad press. It appears Sanders' campaign has even leveraged the incidents to add capital to its platform on police reforms.

"I witnessed the disruption and the leaders' reaction to it," Seattlite James Burkman said. "They handled a confrontational and delicate situation very well. Allowing disruption in a peaceful way opened a door for Mr. Sanders to address race relations in a compassionate way. It's an issue he needs to win on, and I think he will."

To me the BLM incident is so "rebel without a clue." The people's advocate's campaign matters. #Respect

Who knows, maybe even Sanders' campaign orchestrated these interruptions to further both causes. If that's the case I'd say it's quite genius. Certainly people, and the media, are talking ...

Bernie Sanders, senator from Vermont and presidential candidate, and Seattle City Councilmember Kshama Sawant at a rally held at Westlake Center on Saturday evening.

KUOW Photo/Hannah Burn

Imagine

My friend Richard recently remarked the best song ever written is John Lennon's Imagine. I think I may have to agree, lyrically in the modern music genre anyway. Then someone recently brought this song's cover to my attention. Pared with the corresponding video, it's pretty heavy ...

Another friend, Rhoda, asked me once if I were stranded on a deserted island, and I could only have one album to listen to, what would it be. I thought about this very carefully before answering: The Beetles Anthology.

Breath

I always seem to have some of the most inspiring conversations with my two Erics. One of my Erics is my hair stylist. The other is my acupuncturist. Yesterday my inspiring conversation was with acupuncturist Eric about breath.

My acupuncturist Eric practices Classic Five Element, different from the practice most people think of as someone laying on a table covered with a bunch of needles that stay in for a time. The first portion of our sessions involves a verbal check in, almost like therapy. I relay to Eric how things have been going since our last session, which is typically every four weeks. Eric then treats me based on his reaction to me, which is quite Zen.

I relayed my recent last minute self-evacuation from my originally scheduled flight to San Francisco along with the wonderful couple I had the honor of sitting next to on the plane the following day. He said he was glad I did what I did, it's a strong example of caring for myself, that most people would bite the bullet and suffer. I acknowledged the gift for me was the new acquaintances I made.

I relayed about my post San Francisco visit to Dr. Ramaley, a Seattle naturopath who does muscle/resistance testing. Just using his hands he probes and finds weak points in the body. Apparently my weak points were thyroid, which I expected, gallbladder, stomach and parasites. The doc couldn't pinpoint the root cause of these imbalances, only to also acknowledge underlying everything is my heart. Specifically he said my heart isn't producing enough energy needed to completely heal my body.

His statement makes so much sense to me, the inhabitor of this body for the last 41 years. Through my now three year long battle with chronic illness, my chest is the area of most prominence for me. This is where I occasionally feel tightness, restriction, a void and experience shortness of breath.

Then I told Eric about my recent conscious breathing workshop. When I got to telling him about the moments I felt enveloped in divine love, he asked why I was starting to get misty-eyed. I wasn't aware I was. Perhaps he was projecting or I was once more present to that feeling? I honestly cannot say for sure.

"Well, it sounds like you got from that practice exactly what you needed. Love." He said.

I shared about my sudden realization from that workshop about the breath being so much more than just the biological way we oxygenate our blood to sustain our lives. Eric told me the Chinese word "Chi" means breath. Then he pointed to the congee symbol that he uses in his practice's logo.

"This is the symbol for the word Chi," he said. "It's a grain of rice with steam coming off of it. The steam represents breath. In Chinese medicine, the Earth element is food. We get our food from the Earth. Breath or air is the element representative of Heaven. Think of all the ways we intentionally use our breath. Meditation. Tai Chi or Qigong ..."

Ancient cultures used the same word for breath as they did for spirit. Our modern English language has a word for sharing stories which is derived from ancient languages. The word conspire. It literally means to exchange breath. Native Americans would "conspire" around a fire, "exchanging spirits."

I think of breath in a new way. It's not just the air we breathe. It's a force of nature and it has intelligence.

God Parenting Class

When my bestie asked me to be her child's Godfather, of course I was utterly and completely thrilled. I can think of no greater honor than for someone to want you to be their child's spiritual guide. So in a nanosecond I went from thrilled to beyond humbled.

A while later my bestie informed me part of my commitment is to obtain a God parenting certificate from a Catholic Church, the faith her daughter will be baptized in. I consider myself spiritual, and I identify as Buddhist ...

My bestie assured me her parish acknowledged the parents have every right to choose who they see best fit to fulfill this role. I know I'm totally up for it. Do I really have to infiltrate a Catholic parish and take a class there? Yes.

Last night I went to my local St. Francis of Assisi in Burien to participate in the required God parenting class. Of course I found a parish with a really effeminate name that's super fun to say with a lisp. OK, I know this is even more immature. They have a priest there named Father Dick. Sorry, sometimes I just cannot help myself.

Our first order of business was for each of us, and there were about a dozen in attendance, to introduce ourselves, whether we were part of the parish or where we were practicing parishioners. As luck would have it I was first up at bat:

"Hi, I'm Brad Davis ... I'm not yet a parishioner here ... Thank you."

The funny thing is in these moments of complete awkwardness, I've learned not to own it. I said what I said, so there. That's all there is. Thank you/NEXT.

The woman who led the group was really great. Totally pleasant, kind and welcoming. I think only three or four people in the room actually belonged to that parish. Except I was the only one who didn't claim another parish. What was I going to say? Buddha Jewel Monastery? I would have totally blown my cover.

When I shared with my bestie about my intro., she was quite impressed: "See, that's why I chose you, fast on your feet. Well played." she said.

After some history about baptisms in the Catholic church since the time of Emperor Constantine (that was a mighty long time ago), we learned about the history of baptisms at St. Francis. Then came our next sharing exercise. We were asked to take a list of symbols from our workbook and associate words with them. Here they were:

• The Cross
• Water
• Oil
• Garment
• Candle

Pretty much all the items our facilitator had up on an alter in the middle of the room.

Confession. Perhaps it's because I was not raised in any particular faith, I always feel inauthentic within a church. The exception being the monastery where I've been learning and practicing Buddhism. So I can't help but feel a little like an imposter. I never told anyone I was Catholic, and I never told anyone I wasn't Catholic. In my faith, sharing information that may be harmful to another can create bad karma. Anyway, I just needed to express that. Thank you.

I actually enjoyed the word association game. I even shared with the group. Here's what I came up with:

• The Cross - Sacrafice
• Water - Emotion, Life, Purity, Cleansing
• Oil - Essence
• Garment - Protection
• Candle - Light, Warmth, Spirit

We were also asked to write down three people who have passed the faith to us and what we remember about their sharing the faith. We were to do this among our table.

The gal sitting across from me is a mother of four boys. Her youngest, an infant, was sleeping peacefully in her arms. When she talked about this being her fourth baptism, she sounded a little exhausted and a bit "over it." Anyway, she shared about her oldest. When he was three, he underwent surgery. When they brought him out from the anesthesia, he told them he saw Jesus. She and her husband asked him what Jesus said to him. The boy said he didn't speak, he just stood by him and watched over him.

When I relayed that story to my bestie, she asked "Now do you believe?" Of course I believe there was a man named Jesus. There are plenty of them south of the boarder.

The woman explained while they said a prayer before her son's surgery, they didn't elaborate on Jesus. I must admit I was inspired by her tale.

I shared about my Grandma. For me she was such a wonderful source of love in my life, unconditional love. Again, the reference was to the faith. I imagine unconditional love to be fundamental value across most if not all religions. My Grandma was raised in the Welch church, and she also was not Catholic.

One of our last shares, which was for the whole group was about how to share the faith without words.

"Listen. Practice non-judgment. Live your values. Live with gratitude," I said.

I wanted to also add be present and meditate. But ...

Lastly, we were asked to take a candle up to the alter and light it. Before we did, we said the name of the child we were praying for. Gianna Di Maria Rhody

Artful Weekend

Today concluded both Seafair and Seattle's inaugural Art Fair weekend. My hubby and I skipped the former and indulged in the latter. We passed up the Out of Sight opening reception in favor of the Art Fair, which was the more commercial of the two. For one thing, we were gifted a couple of complimentary VIP passes.

We met a couple of our dear friends and toured the show with them. Such wonderful works. Some amazing resin pieces, including a couple out of this world sculptures, which were layered to look like a collective of a humanesque body. Here's an example:

Psychogeography 74 by Dustin Yellin. 2015, mixed media 72 x 27 x 15 inches, Winston Wächter Fine Art

We toured the Out of Sight show, which was a collective of local artists, inside the historic King Street Station. The venue was really authentic and old world. Though it was ill equipped to keep patrons cool on a 90+F degree summer evening. My husband and I toured the show on its second day. The turn out was minimal. The one notable attendee while we were there was Seattle Mayor Ed Murray, who was holding court with about a half dozen people. We didn't make the effort to say hello.

The hollow interior of the upper floor of King Street Station, which had a recent and quite spectacular restoration.

The show had a few memorable pieces and was well balanced. I preferred the more refined works on display at the Art Fair.
 

I had also intended to check out the TK Artist Lofts' Art of the City Street Fest on Saturday. Alas my in-laws paid us a visit. So it was steak dinner at Jimmy Mac's followed by getting caught in a late night dominos loop playing chicken foot. Fun, yes. Even so, my long time friend Aron was DJing on the deck at TK from 6-10 pm that night. I'm certain it would have been a lively scene with even more art to explore. Damn. Next year for sure! 

Inspired by the artful weekend, I wrapped up my Sunday out on my back deck, playing with paint and a couple pieces I started two seasons ago. Mixed media of exterior laytex, acrylic, spray paint and metallic pen. It feels wonderful to create. There's no better elixir than laughter and creative expression.



The Blue Angels roaring by the Space Needle the afternoon of 8/2/15.

News In Brief

This week's world headlines:

• American dentist trades soul for lion trophy
• Zimbabwe hunts lion killers
• Ebola suppressed, remarkable vaccine announced
• Iranians roasted alive, cooked to 165F
• Israeli Jewish suspect(s) incinerates 18 month old Palestinian
• Israeli Jew stabs Israeli gay party goers
• Jet incinerates members of Saudi's Bin Laden family in England
• Brazil readies Olympic facilities with raw sewage for 2016 summer games
• China 3D prints winter Olympic readiness
• Escalator eats Chinese mother
• Reunion receives suspected piece of missing MH370, Malaysia continues Indian Ocean plane hunt
• Central European bank cartel robs Greece
• American presidential candidate vows to end U.S. Federal Reserve cartel, J.F.K. last American president intend similar