Often I think back on my many lives over the years, being myriad people in various places. The rebellious West Houston adolescent. The bullied Issaquah geek. The exploratory San Luis Obispo lover of life. The adorable Midlothian child. The liberated Hechingen exchange student. The Tacoma slumlord. The San Pancho expat. The bright-eyed Seattleite, out on his own for the first time. And the list goes on ...
Take a moment and reflect back over your life. Think on all the people you've known, the places you've been and the experiences you've had. I'm turning 40 this year. Perhaps this comes with the territory, I've been extremely nostalgic as of late.
Do you have any regrets? A life with regret is a life not fully lived. I've lived a very full life, and yet I struggle with whether I have regret. If any, my regret would have a common theme; people. I love people. I love all kinds of people. Not everyone loves me. I don't love everyone, I'm working on it. Whether it's not connecting with people on a deeper level when given the opportunity or losing touch with people whose company I greatly enjoyed. I carry with me this faint sense of longing for people I've known, for missing them and our camaraderie. At the same time, I have an awareness my life is exactly the way I chose it to be.
When I first began writing this post, I was inspired by remembering those I once knew, loved and now deeply miss because our lives have grown apart. Don't get me wrong. I'm plenty content with my life, pretty comfortable in fact. At the root of this post is I'm beginning to question "what's next?" It's almost as if I'm graduating from college all over again and wondering what in the infinite realm of possibilities I want to do with my life next.
The practical part of me is married to the status quo. Practical me would have me continue building my real estate practice of 10 years such that it could possibly operate without me at the helm. What a luxury that would be. Then I would eventually retire comfortably with my husband in Mexico.
The passionate part of me has always felt a calling. Passionate me would have me engaged in the service of others on a grand scale. In eighth grade U.S. history, we learned about the activists. The one who most inspired me was Harriet Tubman. I would romanticize her missions to bring otherwise imprisoned people out from the murky shadows of oppression into the light of liberation. Incredible. Truly a person who lived life with great meaning.
I've had my stints with activism. In yet another one of my "past lives" as a collegiate newspaper reporter, I championed stories involving ethnic minority equality. Despite knowing better, I even covered a few stories championing lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) equality. As a journalist, one never covers a beat one has a personal connection to (not to mention a passionate one). It would be another seven years before I would learn why there's a very good reason to not bend this rule.
Shortly after returning home to Seattle post college graduation, I joined a bit of a crusade for social justice campaigning for a sensible mass-transit solution in Seattle. While our grassroots organization thought we had triumphed by winning public votes on four occasions, ultimately the powers that be scrapped our idealistic vision for the city's future.
For nearly four years I re-engaged in the LGBT battle for equality crusade while directing communications for Seattle's LGBT nonprofit business chamber. Actually, ours was the largest chamber of its kind in the U.S. (if not the world), and the second largest chamber of commerce in Washington State. In addition to helping give the organization more clout and a stronger voice, I did quite a bit of advocacy work.
One of my greatest accomplishments was bringing Microsoft into our organization's fold. In 2005, under pressure from the late Ken Hutcherson, a local pastor who advocated ethnic equality while condemning LGBT equality, Microsoft changed its position to neutral just before a critical vote on an important anti-discrimination bill. The vote was close. The sudden lack of support from corporate giant Microsoft was cited as the primary reason the bill failed by one single vote in its 29th consecutive year before our state legislature.
I ghost wrote a letter from our organization to the corporate leadership at Microsoft. Not only did they answer our letter, they came back to us with a $10,000 check and joined our chamber as a corporate sponsor. Under real pressure from its own employees, including its LGBT employee advocacy group, as well as from countless other organizations, Microsoft changed its position to be in favor of protecting LGBT Washingtonians from discrimination.
The next year the anti-discrimination bill went before the state legislature for the 30th time. While Washington already had anti-discrimination laws, this particular bill proposed to broaden these laws to include LGBT people.
This was my second year participating in equality day in Olympia. Hundreds turned out for the rally in support of the anti-discrimination bill with strong, broad-based support from a very unlikely source; the faith community. The religious coalition for equality was an advocacy organization comprised of religious leaders representing different faiths.
Our rally filled the steps of the legislative building. Across the street on the lawn between our rally and the state supreme court were three anti-LGBT protesters holding the token signs like God hates fags, you're going to burn in hell and that type of hate speech. I'm not a Christian. Even so, I cannot imagine the Bible has any passage remotely implying God hates anything period. Sidebar here. From what I understand, God is the source of unconditional love. People hate. Something more perfect cannot come from something less perfect. I digress ...
What a festive day it was. A light dusting of snow blanketed the ground. A round of speeches from our out state legislators along with faith leaders uplifted the crowd's spirits. We were empowered to do our advocacy and lobby work. First thing was first; attending the final reading of the bill.
Before entering the senate gallery, we were warned what we may hear could be deeply emotional and disturbing. We were also told to keep silent, and anyone who broke silence would be removed. Nothing prepared me for what I witnessed coming from the senate floor. A number of our state senators stood on the floor inside our state capitol and denounced us as unworthy and far less than equal. I'm not entirely sure if I may have blocked out some of what I heard. I recall one Republican senator speaking pridefully about how their daughter is no longer welcome in their home so long as she remains with her girlfriend because her lifestyle goes against their religious beliefs. Families torn apart by a belief. I've stated this before, the word lie lies within the word belief. How loving?
While there were bright moments when educated senators spoke eloquently about the merits of treating people equally no matter who they are, there were others who had nothing but hateful and hurtful things to say. Many of us had grown up thinking something was wrong with us, that we were lesser beings and some of us are still to a degree self-loathing around who we are. The pen is mightier than the sword and the tongue can be just as damaging.
Our side of the gallery was overcome with emotion. A few people got up to leave because they had began to sob audibly. I felt my own eyes swell with tears, feeling the hurt from those around me, my colleagues, people I cared about. Every so often we would glance at one another as if to acknowledge we knew what the other was feeling. I was so present to the emotion connected to the anti-LGBT-equality speeches, I was unable to transcribe with any precision the hate messages being orated on the senate floor. Now far removed from this event, the practical side of me would have reveled in how interesting these hate speeches are on a historical level.
Another sidebar, and that is how badly I wanted my community's protection under the anti-discrimination laws. Yes, I have been discriminated against. Once by an employer. I had been working for a digital media staffing agency, and at the time accepted an underpaid promotion during a recession because the job market was so poor. We were setting up for a co-worker's wedding shower, when the company CFO said to me, "You know, Brad, you're lucky we're so cool to have someone like you working for us." Oh thank my lucky stars in heaven I get to engage in the same daily grind as my co-workers who are paid at least a third more than I am. Hoo-fucking-ray!
Who righteously professes that it's OK to exclude people and do them harm, let alone people who hold positions of influence? I understand free speech. I have a very cumbersome time trying to wrap my head around hate speech.
It seemed like the dramatic, final reading of the bill went on for an eternity. How relieved I was when it finally ended, and yet it haunted me for quite some time afterward.
Our group gathered in the marble-clad rotunda, and refocused ourselves on what we had come to do in Olympia. We divided into smaller groups and divvied up legislators who we were going to meet with. We took some Democrats to thank for their support. We also took several Republicans, including one from Redmond (home to Microsoft's headquarters) to enlist their support (if at all possible).
For me it was a bit like Christmas. We brought several of our 360+ page guides, my biggest annual project. This guide was the first with Microsoft's logo prominently displayed on the back cover.
We marched into the Republican legislative office building, greeted by a tacky portrait of 'Dubya' with his infamous, and usually inappropriately displayed, shit-eating grin. We knocked on the door of this key senator's office, and were greeted by their legislative aide. Unfortunately we missed them. Even so, I placed one of our guides face-down on their desk, placed a finger next to the logo and said, "The vote on this bill puts the senator in a big predicament. They can either vote with their constituents, and against their party. Or they can vote the party line, and misrepresent their constituents."
The aide actually seemed a bit flustered after my little speech, and they assured us they would let the senator know we stopped in. We thanked them, turned away and left the guide sitting on their desk.
The final senate vote on the bill was 25-23 in favor of passing the bill, which gave LGBT Washingtonians much needed protection from discrimination in employment, housing and transactions. Incidentally, the Republican senator from Redmond I gave my little pitch to abstained from the vote. I ran into the bill's sponsor (Seattle's current mayor) at one of our chamber events. He told me the Redmond senator called in sick the day of the vote. I asked if he thought our visit may have had something to do with it, and he said he thought it was more than possible. The governor signed the bill into law and the rest is history, as they say.
Numerous individuals and organizations fought valiantly for three decades to obtain basic anti-discrimination protections for LGBT people in Washington. I want to make that perfectly clear. This was a collective effort in which we played a very small, supporting role.
Ironically, I parted ways with Seattle's LGBT chamber for being marginalized by its executive director. After four years of service, I proposed to increase my rate for the very first time by four percent (the average national rate of inflation for one year). In discussing this with the executive director, she made a point of telling me the desktop publisher for our newsletter lives a very simple life and offers the organization very modest rates. Our mission was about expanding economic opportunities for those who support equality for all, and our organization's leader told me my skilled work held no more value than a pixel pusher. Before leaving on an extended holiday to Mexico, I left the executive director with a proposal I was confident she would reject. One can only bump up against a glass ceiling so many times before realizing one's own self worth. It's been six years and I haven't looked back.
Toward my latter days with the chamber as its communications director, I came to realize there are more important battles to triumph than social justice. What good is social justice if we don't have a sustainable place to call home; a healthy rock to live on? Don't get me wrong, I believe wholeheartedly in equality (gender, ethnic, sexual orientation, economic, etc.). More recently, since falling chronically ill, I've also become passionate about clean food and sustainable agriculture. I believe good, healthy food is a basic human right.
I will draw on my previous experience and ponder where to apply it next. I'll keep my day job and search for a volunteer opportunity I can apply my passion to. Well I guess only time will tell where the road leads me next, who I may encounter along the way and what other life iterations I'll embrace.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Are We Fuk'd Update
Richard returned to Shi Shi Beach last Thursday, equipped with my Geiger counter and his video camera. While he found no detectable levels of radiation, his overall findings cannot completely dismiss Fukushima fallout adversely affecting our local ecology. Here's a link to this post for deeper insight: http://toweringcrane.wordpress.com/2014/01/21/this-beach-looks-fukd-part-2/
From the time we can comprehend our modern world, we're taught we're separate from one another and from the Earth. Therefore it stands to reason why we fail to comprehend the extent of our impact on each other and our planet.
While a chaos theory such a the butterfly effect may have yet to be proven fact, most of us are aware even small actions can have dire consequences. We would all be terribly remiss to not acknowledge Fukushima has released something harmful into our environment. Whether it's a little or a lot is moot.
All nuclear operations, whether for civilian or "defense" purposes, produce an extremely harmful byproduct; highly concentrated radioactive toxins. After seven decades of nuclear weapon and electric production, humanity still has yet to develop a way to neutralize toxic waste. To forge ahead with nuclear anything without a way to render the hazardous byproduct as harmless is just grossly negligent and criminally irresponsible.
I want to say confidently we deserve better. I can say confidently our world deserves better than us, to be infected by humans, a highly destructive specie. If our Earth seems angry at times, it's with good reason. Be assured the world is not against humanity so much as we are against ourselves and the world if our specie continues on our present course.
Our very first step is to wake up, collectively, and realize we have serious problems. Then, and only then, will we be able better ourselves. Earth, like the human body, was formed with a seemingly magical ability to heal itself. If we haven't already adversely impacted the planet's ecology past its point of no return, we can take measures to allow our world to heal itself. This begins with each of us, our willingness to honestly see our mistakes without judgment and fix what we've broken. Let us not be defined by our problems, only by how we overcome them.
From the time we can comprehend our modern world, we're taught we're separate from one another and from the Earth. Therefore it stands to reason why we fail to comprehend the extent of our impact on each other and our planet.
While a chaos theory such a the butterfly effect may have yet to be proven fact, most of us are aware even small actions can have dire consequences. We would all be terribly remiss to not acknowledge Fukushima has released something harmful into our environment. Whether it's a little or a lot is moot.
All nuclear operations, whether for civilian or "defense" purposes, produce an extremely harmful byproduct; highly concentrated radioactive toxins. After seven decades of nuclear weapon and electric production, humanity still has yet to develop a way to neutralize toxic waste. To forge ahead with nuclear anything without a way to render the hazardous byproduct as harmless is just grossly negligent and criminally irresponsible.
I want to say confidently we deserve better. I can say confidently our world deserves better than us, to be infected by humans, a highly destructive specie. If our Earth seems angry at times, it's with good reason. Be assured the world is not against humanity so much as we are against ourselves and the world if our specie continues on our present course.
Our very first step is to wake up, collectively, and realize we have serious problems. Then, and only then, will we be able better ourselves. Earth, like the human body, was formed with a seemingly magical ability to heal itself. If we haven't already adversely impacted the planet's ecology past its point of no return, we can take measures to allow our world to heal itself. This begins with each of us, our willingness to honestly see our mistakes without judgment and fix what we've broken. Let us not be defined by our problems, only by how we overcome them.
Thursday, January 9, 2014
Cloud Seeding in the News
This afternoon I was driving back home from the office when I heard a news story about cloud seeding, also known as weather modification, on National Public Radio's All Things Considered. Here's a link to the report: http://science.kqed.org/quest/audio/in-dry-year-california-looks-to-cloud-seeding/
California has been experimenting with cloud seeding to increase precipitation since the middle of last century. The problems with this are:
1) This program costs millions of dollars annually, and it's still unknown whether there's any benefit
2) A non-organic chemical is deployed into the air and subsequently the surrounding environment which is toxic
The chemical used is silver iodide. While silver compounds are reported to be "much less toxic than other heavy metals," the reality is these compounds are still toxic.
Science appears to be getting desperate to solve problems such as water scarcity, which is directly linked to human consumption. It doesn't take a well educated person to understand pumping harmful chemicals into our environment will only further damage our resources, ecological and human well being overall. Instead of continuing to push the envelope on how far our environment can sustain human development, why don't we look at more ways in which we humans can limit our demands/burdens on our world?
California has been experimenting with cloud seeding to increase precipitation since the middle of last century. The problems with this are:
1) This program costs millions of dollars annually, and it's still unknown whether there's any benefit
2) A non-organic chemical is deployed into the air and subsequently the surrounding environment which is toxic
The chemical used is silver iodide. While silver compounds are reported to be "much less toxic than other heavy metals," the reality is these compounds are still toxic.
Science appears to be getting desperate to solve problems such as water scarcity, which is directly linked to human consumption. It doesn't take a well educated person to understand pumping harmful chemicals into our environment will only further damage our resources, ecological and human well being overall. Instead of continuing to push the envelope on how far our environment can sustain human development, why don't we look at more ways in which we humans can limit our demands/burdens on our world?
Morning Inspiration
As I perused through Facebook this morning, I ran across a post that really struck a positive chord. Here's a link to it: https://www.facebook.com/debby.crawford/posts/10152105661382319
The synopsis is this woman's home sustained severe water and electrical damage while she and her family were away on vacation. Their neighbor who was checking on the home discovered the problem, and had their plumber shutoff the water. The woman and her family returned home a day earlier than planned to deal with the problem, and find a new place to live.
The woman today received the following message:
"On this day of your life, Debby, I believe God wants you to know......that earthly possessions are not what you came here to gather. Do not worry about your earthly possessions. Place your attention on your heavenly goal--the evolution of your soul--and you will find peace even while on earth. You will not have to think but a second to know"
Incredibly inspiring sharing of wisdom, at least I think so.
Our culture leads us to believe he or she who has the most toys wins. Wins what exactly? Even those who allegedly have so-called everything, fortune, fame, etc., they at times are still unhappy and unfulfilled. What fulfills us is that which lifts our spirit.
"A meaningful life is not being rich, popular, being highly educated or being perfect ... It is about being real, being humble, being strong and being able to share ourselves and touch the lives of others. It is only then we could have a full, happy and contended life." - Unknown
I'm certain that's what every human desires, to have a full, happy and contended life.
The synopsis is this woman's home sustained severe water and electrical damage while she and her family were away on vacation. Their neighbor who was checking on the home discovered the problem, and had their plumber shutoff the water. The woman and her family returned home a day earlier than planned to deal with the problem, and find a new place to live.
The woman today received the following message:
"On this day of your life, Debby, I believe God wants you to know......that earthly possessions are not what you came here to gather. Do not worry about your earthly possessions. Place your attention on your heavenly goal--the evolution of your soul--and you will find peace even while on earth. You will not have to think but a second to know"
Incredibly inspiring sharing of wisdom, at least I think so.
Our culture leads us to believe he or she who has the most toys wins. Wins what exactly? Even those who allegedly have so-called everything, fortune, fame, etc., they at times are still unhappy and unfulfilled. What fulfills us is that which lifts our spirit.
"A meaningful life is not being rich, popular, being highly educated or being perfect ... It is about being real, being humble, being strong and being able to share ourselves and touch the lives of others. It is only then we could have a full, happy and contended life." - Unknown
I'm certain that's what every human desires, to have a full, happy and contended life.
Last Night's Dream
My husband and I were in a newer townhome either on NW Capitol Hill or otherwise near to Seattle's Eastlake neighborhood. We had a view of Lake Union from across Interstate 5. A seaplane coated in branding representing one of our local lifestyle TV news programs took off from the lake, buzzed the freeway and the home we were in while spraying some sort of fog out its tail. I noticed the window before me was open, so I closed it just before the spray hit. It was like a crystallized or frozen sort of white foam. This must be some form of chemical. I thought it a good idea to find something to collect a sample in, so I went into the kitchen and fumbled around looking for an airtight container. It was then when I awoke ...
Interpretations
Airplane (no definition for Seaplane found): To see an airplane in your dream indicates that you will overcome your obstacles and rise above to a new level of prominence and status. You may experience a higher consciousness, newfound freedom and greater awareness. Perhaps you need to gain a better perspective or wider view on something. If the airplane is taking off, then it suggests that an idea or plan is about to "take off" and be put into action. It may also represent your need to get away and escape from your daily life.
Chemicals: To see or use chemicals in your dream, signifies that you are undergoing some transformation and individuation process.
Window: Looking through a window represents insight and attitude towards life. What you see out the window, whether it's a positive or negative view, suggests how optimistic or pessimistic you are in general. To see windows in your dream, signifies bright hopes, vast possibilities and insight. To dream you are looking out a window, signifies your outlook on life, your consciousness, point of view, awareness and intuition. You may be reflecting on a decision and seeking guidance. Or you need to go out into the larger world and experience life.
Interpretations
Airplane (no definition for Seaplane found): To see an airplane in your dream indicates that you will overcome your obstacles and rise above to a new level of prominence and status. You may experience a higher consciousness, newfound freedom and greater awareness. Perhaps you need to gain a better perspective or wider view on something. If the airplane is taking off, then it suggests that an idea or plan is about to "take off" and be put into action. It may also represent your need to get away and escape from your daily life.
Chemicals: To see or use chemicals in your dream, signifies that you are undergoing some transformation and individuation process.
Window: Looking through a window represents insight and attitude towards life. What you see out the window, whether it's a positive or negative view, suggests how optimistic or pessimistic you are in general. To see windows in your dream, signifies bright hopes, vast possibilities and insight. To dream you are looking out a window, signifies your outlook on life, your consciousness, point of view, awareness and intuition. You may be reflecting on a decision and seeking guidance. Or you need to go out into the larger world and experience life.
Purpose
Lately I've felt more and more drawn toward having a more profound sense of purpose in my life. Even as a child I had envisioned serving a greater good.
With so much that ails our world and humanity, it's really challenging to choose where to begin focus one's positive energy. Is it in the direction of what's most urgently needed? Is it in the direction of what will have the greatest impact?
For me, I think it's starting small and gravitating toward what I'm most passionate about. So far what I feel most impassioned by is love, truth and the dissemination of both.
Love is the greatest and most challenging of all. Love requires us to love ourselves and others especially when appearing to be least deserving of it. It requires one to relinquish ego altogether and purely come from the heart.
Truth is elusive in our time of corporate-owned mass media. Sometimes we get a little truth. Sometimes we just get what we get and it's not true at all. A lack of truth is the price we all pay for not paying directly for content itself.
I'm just going to continue sharing thoughts, and we'll see where this leads ...
With so much that ails our world and humanity, it's really challenging to choose where to begin focus one's positive energy. Is it in the direction of what's most urgently needed? Is it in the direction of what will have the greatest impact?
For me, I think it's starting small and gravitating toward what I'm most passionate about. So far what I feel most impassioned by is love, truth and the dissemination of both.
Love is the greatest and most challenging of all. Love requires us to love ourselves and others especially when appearing to be least deserving of it. It requires one to relinquish ego altogether and purely come from the heart.
Truth is elusive in our time of corporate-owned mass media. Sometimes we get a little truth. Sometimes we just get what we get and it's not true at all. A lack of truth is the price we all pay for not paying directly for content itself.
I'm just going to continue sharing thoughts, and we'll see where this leads ...
Choosing Belief
Just a brief follow up to the previous post "Seeking Truth." Those mired in belief create their own truth. I felt it important to acknowledge this. In essence, we each create our own meaning of life. We can choose to believe people are inherently good. We can choose to believe people are inherently bad. We can choose to love people. We can choose to condemn people. Ask yourself to the core of your being, what kind of a world do you wholeheartedly want to live in?
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Verum Quaero "Seeking Truth"
Truth is most often used to mean in accord
with fact or reality,[1] or fidelity to an original or to a standard
or ideal.[1]
Belief is the psychological state in which an
individual holds a conjecture or premise to be true.[1]
I'd like to make some clarifications about these two very well known English words; truth and belief. Truth is fact, which can be proven. Belief is an idea requiring blind faith absent any requirement of evidence. This distinction is of particular importance in cases where religion is applied upon governance. In this application, those rooted in belief are usually delusional about the truth, acting as if these two words were one in the same. They are not only not the same, they are very different.
The belief perspective is a wreckless one contrary to what religious doctrine itself states about misrepresenting or not telling the truth. Many religious organizations would refer to the practice of misinformation or not telling the truth as a lie and/or sin. Interesting the word "lie" is contained within the word "belief." Just an observation.
For a society of people to function in a healthy manner, the public must be able to make choices based on a broad spectrum of information rooted in truth. Anything less than the truth is grossly negligent, depriving people of justice and basic human decency.
So my question to you, do you believe government tells you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God? If government were being completely truthful and always acting with utmost integrity in the best interest of the people it serves, why would our government repeal American citizens' rights to free speech set forth in the United States Constitution through such "laws" as the "Patriot Act?"
I'd like to make some clarifications about these two very well known English words; truth and belief. Truth is fact, which can be proven. Belief is an idea requiring blind faith absent any requirement of evidence. This distinction is of particular importance in cases where religion is applied upon governance. In this application, those rooted in belief are usually delusional about the truth, acting as if these two words were one in the same. They are not only not the same, they are very different.
The belief perspective is a wreckless one contrary to what religious doctrine itself states about misrepresenting or not telling the truth. Many religious organizations would refer to the practice of misinformation or not telling the truth as a lie and/or sin. Interesting the word "lie" is contained within the word "belief." Just an observation.
For a society of people to function in a healthy manner, the public must be able to make choices based on a broad spectrum of information rooted in truth. Anything less than the truth is grossly negligent, depriving people of justice and basic human decency.
So my question to you, do you believe government tells you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God? If government were being completely truthful and always acting with utmost integrity in the best interest of the people it serves, why would our government repeal American citizens' rights to free speech set forth in the United States Constitution through such "laws" as the "Patriot Act?"
Patriots (also known as Rebels, Revolutionaries, Congress-Men, or American Whigs) were those colonists of the British Thirteen United Colonies that violently rebelled against British control during the American Revolution and in July 1776 declared the United States of America an independent nation. Their rebellion was based on the political philosophy of republicanism, as expressed by pamphleteers, such as Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton, and Thomas Paine.
As a group, Patriots represented a wide array of social, economic, ethnic and racial backgrounds. They included lawyers like John Adams and Alexander Hamilton; planters like Thomas Jefferson and George Mason; merchants like Alexander McDougall and ordinary farmers like Daniel Shays and Joseph Plumb Martin.
It occurs for me as dishonest and arrogant to label an act which repeals our basic freedom of speech, among many other constitutional rights revocations, as patriotic. Our founding fathers fought valiantly in small numbers, sacrificing everything for freedom. Is history repeating itself? If so, how and at what point can we break this highly unproductive and volatile pattern of freeing ourselves only to once more find ourselves oppressed?
"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world; indeed it is the only thing that ever has." - Margaret Mead
"When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace." - Dr. William Ellery Channing, Sri Chinmoy Ghose, Jimi Hendrix
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Heavenly Stream & Are We Fuk'd?
Yesterday afternoon my acupuncturist administered me the "Heavenly Stream" treatment, saying most of his patients aren't healthy enough to receive it. This is really great news, especially for someone who has been suffering from chronic autoimmune disease/hypothyroiditis for more than a year.
I'm told in Chinese medicine the spleen is responsible for even distribution of energy throughout the body, and this treatment goes effectively to the heart of this. After receiving this treatment, I was advised to do things that support the Heavenly Stream.
"Such as?" I naturally asked.
"It's different for everyone," my acupuncturist said. "For me I find yoga very helpful. Things that really lift your spirit."
I felt a bit spacey after leaving the Sacred Garden Healing Center. On our way home my husband and I (still so fun to state that) did a bit of shopping at our favorite little consignment shop at the edge of Downtown Seattle. We found a couple gorgeous ceramic pieces, ones he had been eying and I had considered purchasing him for Christmas. I digress ...
Slept really well last night, a full eight hours. And I don't recall post treatment having much if any food sensitivity, which is a first in well over a year. Feel like I have my wizard of an acupuncturist and the Heavenly Stream to thank for these blessings.
To stay on course with the treatment, and because it's one of my New Year's resolutions, I did a 20 minute sitting meditation first thing this morning. Quickly recalling how luxurious it is to meditate, I feel like I should be able to keep with my intention and engage in practice for at least a few minutes each day.
Shortly after concluding this morning's practice, I noticed some chemtrails right over my home and neighborhood. For some reason I was driven to snap a photo of it.
From what I've read, and who knows what sources one can rely on in this day and age, chemtrails are distinguished from vaportrails because chemtrails linger for quite some time. I've also read the chemicals take about a day to fall back to the earth from their approximate 15,000 foot altitudes where they're released into the stratosphere. The chemicals commonly used in chemtrails/cloud seeding/geo engineering are aluminum, barium, bromine and strontium; all highly toxic to terrestrial life.
I've learned to notice with curiosity. So I did a little more chemtrail research today. Many would discount this topic as conspiracy theory. I'm pretty sure those people are either serving the ruling class or they are like most of us who really would rather not acknowledge their lives could ever be deplorably disrupted.
Then there are those, like myself, who take a wholehearted interest in nature and cannot help observing how much hazier our skies have become. "The bluest skies you've ever seen are in Seattle," as the song goes. In the past couple decades, the last 10 years especially, this verse has nearly become a lie along with a nostalgic antiquity.
One media piece I viewed about chemtrails had a clip from the film The Road. That film has periodically haunted me since I first saw it a few years ago. I used to wonder how the world died since the film doesn't delve into it. Since learning about chemtrails, I'm now of the mind this film may be an uber poignant and timely commentary about the incredibly stupid or diabolical practice of geo engineering. Stupid if those responsible are doing this in the name of global warming. Diabolical if those responsible are doing this in the name of planetary population reduction and/or proliferation of foods engineered to resist these horrific toxins. My greater point is the realization of how plausible, even tangible, it is for humanity to kill our beautiful world.
I'm writing this in a way to be alarmist, just not in the way you might be thinking. I want to raise awareness, not fear. It would be natural for anyone to have fear around such a doomsday scenario. The ruling class wants us to be afraid. Fear paralyses and weakens the people, which makes the people easy to control.
Humanity has had the means to destroy ourselves and the world along with us since the dawn of the atomic age, probably even before. So why haven't we? It's fairly common knowledge the developed and developing nations are harming, even in the process of destroying, the planet's ecology; our habitat.
Here's the good news. If we have the power to destroy, we also have the power to create and restore. Think of all the incredible marvels humans have brought into reality. Our ideas first exist in a stream of consciousness. It takes just one person to tap into that consciousness, take hold of an idea and then take action to bring forth the idea into existence. Just the very thought we can restore our planet's ecology already creates the possibility of this being so.
Further into the day I did a yoga practice, which was very rewarding. Upon beginning my practice, I felt very heavy. Upon completing my practice, I felt very light/uplifted. Yet a short while later I stumbled upon a friend's concerning post about his recent trip to the Washington coast. A more elaborate version exists on his blog, which is entitled 'This Beach Looks Fuk'd:' http://toweringcrane.wordpress.com/2014/01/02/this-beach-looks-fukd/
The images are telling and disturbing. In his social media post, Richard relayed his discovery and put a call out for a Geiger counter. He received nearly 50 responses, including my offer to lend him mine. He phoned tonight, is coming by to pick it up this week. He'll then head back to the coast to take some readings, especially around this pink/purple slime he encountered along with the numerous aquatic carcases.
Richard is a recent cancer survivor. His query into Fukushima radiation washing ashore isn't about being alarmist. Most of us are well aware there's a lot of misinformation about this and likely a greater lack of information our governments are consciously withholding from us. Having the health challenges he's overcome, Richard is naturally very sensitive about these subjects. From my own experience I can very much relate to and appreciate this.
Elevated radiation is a fact of life since we first learned to split atoms. We've been living in a world with radiation for decades now. So some low level radiation may not be harmful. Thus getting more information is a matter of understanding our reality as it actually exists. Maybe there are measures we can take to mitigate risk and exposure. Ignorance isn't always bliss, though I'm pretty sure it mostly is (smiling).
During our conversation I relayed to Richard my recent toxicology screen, which revealed I have an elevated level of cesium. He asked which one, and I'm pretty sure it was either 137 or 134. He wants a copy of the report, which I should be able to get him in the coming week. Depending on what he finds at the coast, he may put together a short film about this.
From our conversation I gathered Richard and I have a similar mindset. We're both truth seekers, and the truth we seek is merely to be aware of what's going on in our world. We care. We give a shit. We want to help. He put it this way in one of his social media comments in response to his post about his coastal findings:
"... what we can do is stop buying into this paradigm of thinking which says the people governing our planet really have our best interests at heart, and that there might be other options for doing business on planet earth. Events like this will hopefully help people realize we need to stop giving them power - the amounts of radiation aren't important. What's important is no longer accepting a status quo that could kill us all eventually," wrote Richard, adding ...
"I think the bigger problem is us on a spiritual and moral level - letting big business dictate our mental, social, and ecological health. It puts us in these unnecessary crises (sorry, don't know the plural for crisis). I had cancer - and what fixed it was acknowledging the serious of it and then doing EVERYTHING IT TOOK TO FIX IT. That's something I don't see happening with Fukushima, and that's why I do think its a problem. Are there some doomsday scenarios? Sure. Everyday is doomsday these days. But there also opportunities to change. The chinese word for crises is 'Dangerous Opportunity.' That's what we have here I'm afraid."
For some time I've been pondering how I can contribute to a healthier world. Perhaps my way of contributing has been right in front of me for quite some time. I'm inspired by virtuous purpose. We'll see where the road leads ...
Are we Fuk'd? Possibly. Are we fucked? As long as humanity maintains sensibility, optimism and takes action from the heart, the possibility of a healthy future absolutely exists.
As I reflect on the Heavenly Stream, and think on ways I can support my treatment, eureka! I love sharing stories through the written word. More to follow soon.
I'm told in Chinese medicine the spleen is responsible for even distribution of energy throughout the body, and this treatment goes effectively to the heart of this. After receiving this treatment, I was advised to do things that support the Heavenly Stream.
"Such as?" I naturally asked.
"It's different for everyone," my acupuncturist said. "For me I find yoga very helpful. Things that really lift your spirit."
I felt a bit spacey after leaving the Sacred Garden Healing Center. On our way home my husband and I (still so fun to state that) did a bit of shopping at our favorite little consignment shop at the edge of Downtown Seattle. We found a couple gorgeous ceramic pieces, ones he had been eying and I had considered purchasing him for Christmas. I digress ...
Slept really well last night, a full eight hours. And I don't recall post treatment having much if any food sensitivity, which is a first in well over a year. Feel like I have my wizard of an acupuncturist and the Heavenly Stream to thank for these blessings.
To stay on course with the treatment, and because it's one of my New Year's resolutions, I did a 20 minute sitting meditation first thing this morning. Quickly recalling how luxurious it is to meditate, I feel like I should be able to keep with my intention and engage in practice for at least a few minutes each day.
Shortly after concluding this morning's practice, I noticed some chemtrails right over my home and neighborhood. For some reason I was driven to snap a photo of it.
 |
| (Sorry, I can't get this image verticle.) Notice the white trail in the center of the photograph. This is a view looking from my home out across my back garden around 9 AM on Jan. 4, '14. |
I've learned to notice with curiosity. So I did a little more chemtrail research today. Many would discount this topic as conspiracy theory. I'm pretty sure those people are either serving the ruling class or they are like most of us who really would rather not acknowledge their lives could ever be deplorably disrupted.
Then there are those, like myself, who take a wholehearted interest in nature and cannot help observing how much hazier our skies have become. "The bluest skies you've ever seen are in Seattle," as the song goes. In the past couple decades, the last 10 years especially, this verse has nearly become a lie along with a nostalgic antiquity.
One media piece I viewed about chemtrails had a clip from the film The Road. That film has periodically haunted me since I first saw it a few years ago. I used to wonder how the world died since the film doesn't delve into it. Since learning about chemtrails, I'm now of the mind this film may be an uber poignant and timely commentary about the incredibly stupid or diabolical practice of geo engineering. Stupid if those responsible are doing this in the name of global warming. Diabolical if those responsible are doing this in the name of planetary population reduction and/or proliferation of foods engineered to resist these horrific toxins. My greater point is the realization of how plausible, even tangible, it is for humanity to kill our beautiful world.
I'm writing this in a way to be alarmist, just not in the way you might be thinking. I want to raise awareness, not fear. It would be natural for anyone to have fear around such a doomsday scenario. The ruling class wants us to be afraid. Fear paralyses and weakens the people, which makes the people easy to control.
Humanity has had the means to destroy ourselves and the world along with us since the dawn of the atomic age, probably even before. So why haven't we? It's fairly common knowledge the developed and developing nations are harming, even in the process of destroying, the planet's ecology; our habitat.
Here's the good news. If we have the power to destroy, we also have the power to create and restore. Think of all the incredible marvels humans have brought into reality. Our ideas first exist in a stream of consciousness. It takes just one person to tap into that consciousness, take hold of an idea and then take action to bring forth the idea into existence. Just the very thought we can restore our planet's ecology already creates the possibility of this being so.
Further into the day I did a yoga practice, which was very rewarding. Upon beginning my practice, I felt very heavy. Upon completing my practice, I felt very light/uplifted. Yet a short while later I stumbled upon a friend's concerning post about his recent trip to the Washington coast. A more elaborate version exists on his blog, which is entitled 'This Beach Looks Fuk'd:' http://toweringcrane.wordpress.com/2014/01/02/this-beach-looks-fukd/
The images are telling and disturbing. In his social media post, Richard relayed his discovery and put a call out for a Geiger counter. He received nearly 50 responses, including my offer to lend him mine. He phoned tonight, is coming by to pick it up this week. He'll then head back to the coast to take some readings, especially around this pink/purple slime he encountered along with the numerous aquatic carcases.
Richard is a recent cancer survivor. His query into Fukushima radiation washing ashore isn't about being alarmist. Most of us are well aware there's a lot of misinformation about this and likely a greater lack of information our governments are consciously withholding from us. Having the health challenges he's overcome, Richard is naturally very sensitive about these subjects. From my own experience I can very much relate to and appreciate this.
Elevated radiation is a fact of life since we first learned to split atoms. We've been living in a world with radiation for decades now. So some low level radiation may not be harmful. Thus getting more information is a matter of understanding our reality as it actually exists. Maybe there are measures we can take to mitigate risk and exposure. Ignorance isn't always bliss, though I'm pretty sure it mostly is (smiling).
During our conversation I relayed to Richard my recent toxicology screen, which revealed I have an elevated level of cesium. He asked which one, and I'm pretty sure it was either 137 or 134. He wants a copy of the report, which I should be able to get him in the coming week. Depending on what he finds at the coast, he may put together a short film about this.
From our conversation I gathered Richard and I have a similar mindset. We're both truth seekers, and the truth we seek is merely to be aware of what's going on in our world. We care. We give a shit. We want to help. He put it this way in one of his social media comments in response to his post about his coastal findings:
"... what we can do is stop buying into this paradigm of thinking which says the people governing our planet really have our best interests at heart, and that there might be other options for doing business on planet earth. Events like this will hopefully help people realize we need to stop giving them power - the amounts of radiation aren't important. What's important is no longer accepting a status quo that could kill us all eventually," wrote Richard, adding ...
"I think the bigger problem is us on a spiritual and moral level - letting big business dictate our mental, social, and ecological health. It puts us in these unnecessary crises (sorry, don't know the plural for crisis). I had cancer - and what fixed it was acknowledging the serious of it and then doing EVERYTHING IT TOOK TO FIX IT. That's something I don't see happening with Fukushima, and that's why I do think its a problem. Are there some doomsday scenarios? Sure. Everyday is doomsday these days. But there also opportunities to change. The chinese word for crises is 'Dangerous Opportunity.' That's what we have here I'm afraid."
For some time I've been pondering how I can contribute to a healthier world. Perhaps my way of contributing has been right in front of me for quite some time. I'm inspired by virtuous purpose. We'll see where the road leads ...
Are we Fuk'd? Possibly. Are we fucked? As long as humanity maintains sensibility, optimism and takes action from the heart, the possibility of a healthy future absolutely exists.
As I reflect on the Heavenly Stream, and think on ways I can support my treatment, eureka! I love sharing stories through the written word. More to follow soon.
Thursday, January 2, 2014
Happy Newly Weds!
What an uber challenging, wonderously blessed & love-filled year 2013 has been! The year began as the previous year had ended, with chronic autoimmune illness. While I can't say I'm 100 percent healed, I have done an incredible amount of healing. The healing has taken an enormous amount of effort, expense and a complete dietary lifestyle transformation.
Most incredible of all, I married my husband in the thirteenth hour of the 11the day of the 12th month of the 13th year in this young millennium.
We had planned to tie the proverbial knot earlier in 2013,
and had not planned to move. Life clearly had other plans for us, including the
sale of the condo we were renting, and of course my health challenges.
Margo (pictured left) orchestrated an exceptionally beautiful ceremony. Just prior to the ceremony, and completely uncoordinated, both T's sister and my mom gave us something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.
My mom took out a beautiful piece of embroidered fabric with the letter A monogrammed on it. It was my Great Grandma Mimi's handkerchief. Mimi gave this to my beloved Grandma when she got married. My Grandma gave this to my mom when she got married. And my mom gave it to me. My heart swells.
Our
hearts full of love, everyone’s eyes glistened joyfully. After we said our ‘I
do’s,’ we posed for some photos at the theatre, at Kerry Park and then our party met up at one of Seattle’s
finest dining institutions, which opened just for us. We had an early supper in
El Gaucho’s private wine cellar with a beautiful bottle of champagne T’s
client Stephanie had awaiting our arrival. How she knew what we were doing after the
theatre still puzzles us to this day.
Most incredible of all, I married my husband in the thirteenth hour of the 11the day of the 12th month of the 13th year in this young millennium.
Our marriage plan had always been to elope with our officiant, our
dearest friend Margo, to our home in Mexico where T proposed to me in
March of 2011. Of course I said yes. We wanted our ceremony to be very
intimate and authentic with as little pomp and circumstance as possible. We also very selfishly wanted the day to just be about us and our love we share vs. being about other people, which would be contrary to the point. Yes,
completely outside of the typical “norm.” We would then have a celebratory
reception with our beloved family and friends in Seattle a few weeks following.
Both the move and health challenges took priority. So our union was placed on
hold, unjustly pending better health …
As I continue working diligently to recover, I gained clarity
about living each day fully with intention. Unbeknownst to T, our special
day would commemorate nine years since the first time we laid eyes on one
another in the same space we were first introduced, almost to the day.
In early December 2004, we were introduced by our business
chamber’s executive director at an event hosted by the Seattle 5th
Avenue Theatre’s Producer’s Club. The week prior to the event Louise gushed
about T to me. I had always thought of her as the Jewish mother I hadn’t
ever recalled asking for and loved anyway. Unbeknownst to either of us at the time, this very
business as usual event may very well have altered the course of both our lives because
of one uber socially involved yenta.
That our plans were on hold indefinitely, it was only
natural for one of us to wonder whether his fiancé still held to the same intention.
Coming to realize this, I spent the following weeks planning, in secret, a
day which would make my intention clear and hopefully sweep T off his
feet.
On Wednesday, the 11th of December, 2013 just before one o’clock in
the afternoon, I lured T to the Producer’s Club via one of T’s
clients, top Seattle event guru Stephanie Solomon. T was expecting to meet with an out-of-town bride to begin
brainstorming her wedding invitations. When he arrived, T was a bit thrown
off as I greeted him at the door to the Producer's Club.
I brought Terry into the heart of the club and sang ‘Somebody’
by Depeche Mode to him. I then sat him down, got down on one knee and
asked whether he would do me the honor of sharing a life together. When T
said yes, photographers then entered and captured T’s surprise. I then asked if he wanted to tie the proverbial knot right then and there. He clamored, stating we needed Margo, my mom and his sister. I then called for the ladies to bring out our attire. My mom Patty (from Coeur D’Alene) and our dear Margo (from San Francisco)
walked into the room bearing our formal attire along with his sister Missy. The rest is history, nearly.
My mom took out a beautiful piece of embroidered fabric with the letter A monogrammed on it. It was my Great Grandma Mimi's handkerchief. Mimi gave this to my beloved Grandma when she got married. My Grandma gave this to my mom when she got married. And my mom gave it to me. My heart swells.
After a delicious early supper and some cake, we said our
farewells and headed to our suite at the Four Seasons where our dog Millie had
been anxiously awaiting us. The hotel even gave her turn down service. We
enjoyed treating ourselves to the hotel’s spa and a couple's massage, took Millie on a long walk
around downtown (viewing the marvelous spectacle of holiday lights), did some shopping (thank you gifts for our bridal party at Tiffany's). We rode
Seattle’s Great Wheel, which was a bit dizzying and spectacular nonetheless.
All-in-all we had an exceptionally fine, even perfect, day in every way.
T has been asked several times if he was OK with me just doing what I did. He said he wouldn't have changed a thing. While I wouldn't change anything either, I would absolutely have loved for my late Grandma to have been physically present. This may seem odd, much of me feels as though she was there with us, not just in spirit, helping guide the day's events in perfect harmony.
A day well lived is a day fondly remembered, always ...
T has been asked several times if he was OK with me just doing what I did. He said he wouldn't have changed a thing. While I wouldn't change anything either, I would absolutely have loved for my late Grandma to have been physically present. This may seem odd, much of me feels as though she was there with us, not just in spirit, helping guide the day's events in perfect harmony.
A day well lived is a day fondly remembered, always ...
Monday, November 18, 2013
Lake Dream
I've been writing about my dreams as of late for several reasons:
1) I've been dreaming again after a period when I had no dreams and wasn't sleeping well.
2) I believe dreams are a significant part of one's awareness
3) So many of my really vivid dreams in the past couple years have included my late Grandma, who I have an incredible connection with
4) I sense dreams are a gateway to another world
Still trying to piece together where I was last night. I recall a fantastic mountainous and lake or river setting. Winding roads and beautiful homes. It was dusk. The skies were a dark sapphire blue, reflected in the still waters. The rising moon gave the lake a sparkling appearance. I was with my family, and a family which once had a close friendship with mine.
We drove unusually fast to the house we were staying at. I was sure we might just miss a sharp curve and plummet off a cliff and vanish into the innocent looking waters below. We reached our destination intact. The home itself doesn't register as much as the artifacts within it. There was a wall calendar, or something like it, with somewhat historic photos that had been colorized. One was of a water skiing pyramid, and I was informed one of the beautiful women atop the pyramid was my Grandma in all her glorious youth.
I recall being in a room which was in most ways like any other. The one exception was a nook adjacent the four-post bed which had a very modern looking brown chaise, which affixed to a custom hole in the floor via a metal post. Apparently this hole accommodated interchangeable furniture pieces. A small twin bed in this case was the alternate piece that had been placed there at one time. This area of the bedroom had a kidney bean shaped area of wood flooring whereas the rest of the room was wall-to-wall carpeted.
My Grandma came into the room. She looked around and appeared sad when she saw the area featuring the chaise. She didn't speak, I just read it on her face. She recalled the bed having been there, something about her and the bed or someone she was close to and the bed. It's blurred in my recollection.
Another part of my dream placed me with childhood friends, now grown adults. We were at a child's party at one of their homes. The home had a sunken, tiled living room and built-in sectional. The home seemed cavernous, literally, as if built into a cave or otherwise subterranean. There was an elevated water feature in the corner of the room, a naturally occurring one that had been built around. Somehow I managed to be wielding a 3-drawer vertical filing cabinet, placing it near or in the water feature. Then suddenly the cabinet was sinking. I reached in to retrieve it only to discover it hadn't been sinking so much as it was being sucked into a porthole inside this small pool. The pool was blue-green in color and the surround inside looked much more like a natural tide pool than anything remotely man made. I managed to fully recover the file cabinet, and knew something had been pulling on it vs. some form of suction, otherwise the water would have been drained out. My friend apologized for the incident and mentioned they have plans to finish the jacuzzi. Odd.
Dusk: This is a dream of sadness; it portends an early decline and unrequited hopes. Dark outlook for trade and pursuits of any nature is prolonged by this dream.
Water: To dream of clear water, foretells that you will joyfully realize prosperity and pleasure.
Lake: To see a lake in your dream, signifies your emotional state of mind. You feel restricted or that you are unable to express your emotions freely. Alternately, the lake may provide you with solace, security and peace of mind. If the lake is clear and calm, then it symbolizes your inner peace.
House: To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. Being aware of someone else in the house suggests that we may be feeling threatened by an aspect of our own personality. The house is popularly known as the seat of the soul, and in spiritual terms links us to the way we are in the world. A house represents security and safety, and therefore signifies protection and the Great Mother.
Bedroom: The bedroom portrays a place of safety where we can relax.
Bed: Since sleep is a way of leaving the busy world behind, a bed can represent a form of spiritual sanctuary and a sense of purity. For most people the bed and bedroom signify a private place. If the bed is made, then it symbolizes security.
Photographs: In dreams these can represent a spiritual need to understand the past. In a sense they are a microcosm within a microcosm, a small part within a greater whole. Obviously photographs represent memories, past occasions, perhaps past difficulties. To be looking at photographs of someone from the past is to be looking at that person's qualities, perhaps bringing them forward into our own lives and making use of those same qualities within. When we dream of looking at photographs, we are often looking at an aspect of ourselves, perhaps our younger self or part of ourselves that we no longer feel is particularly valid.\
Friends: Signify aspects of your personality that have been developing and making you grow as a person. The relationships you have with those around you are important in learning about yourself, so look to the friends you dreamed about for signals of personality traits they have that you desire in yourself, and work on those things. Additionally, dreaming of friends sometimes foretells that you will hear happy news from them.
Grandmother: To see your grandmother in your dream represents nurturance, protection and unconditional love. Consider the qualities and characteristics that exist in your own grandmother.
1) I've been dreaming again after a period when I had no dreams and wasn't sleeping well.
2) I believe dreams are a significant part of one's awareness
3) So many of my really vivid dreams in the past couple years have included my late Grandma, who I have an incredible connection with
4) I sense dreams are a gateway to another world
Still trying to piece together where I was last night. I recall a fantastic mountainous and lake or river setting. Winding roads and beautiful homes. It was dusk. The skies were a dark sapphire blue, reflected in the still waters. The rising moon gave the lake a sparkling appearance. I was with my family, and a family which once had a close friendship with mine.
We drove unusually fast to the house we were staying at. I was sure we might just miss a sharp curve and plummet off a cliff and vanish into the innocent looking waters below. We reached our destination intact. The home itself doesn't register as much as the artifacts within it. There was a wall calendar, or something like it, with somewhat historic photos that had been colorized. One was of a water skiing pyramid, and I was informed one of the beautiful women atop the pyramid was my Grandma in all her glorious youth.
I recall being in a room which was in most ways like any other. The one exception was a nook adjacent the four-post bed which had a very modern looking brown chaise, which affixed to a custom hole in the floor via a metal post. Apparently this hole accommodated interchangeable furniture pieces. A small twin bed in this case was the alternate piece that had been placed there at one time. This area of the bedroom had a kidney bean shaped area of wood flooring whereas the rest of the room was wall-to-wall carpeted.
My Grandma came into the room. She looked around and appeared sad when she saw the area featuring the chaise. She didn't speak, I just read it on her face. She recalled the bed having been there, something about her and the bed or someone she was close to and the bed. It's blurred in my recollection.
Another part of my dream placed me with childhood friends, now grown adults. We were at a child's party at one of their homes. The home had a sunken, tiled living room and built-in sectional. The home seemed cavernous, literally, as if built into a cave or otherwise subterranean. There was an elevated water feature in the corner of the room, a naturally occurring one that had been built around. Somehow I managed to be wielding a 3-drawer vertical filing cabinet, placing it near or in the water feature. Then suddenly the cabinet was sinking. I reached in to retrieve it only to discover it hadn't been sinking so much as it was being sucked into a porthole inside this small pool. The pool was blue-green in color and the surround inside looked much more like a natural tide pool than anything remotely man made. I managed to fully recover the file cabinet, and knew something had been pulling on it vs. some form of suction, otherwise the water would have been drained out. My friend apologized for the incident and mentioned they have plans to finish the jacuzzi. Odd.
Dusk: This is a dream of sadness; it portends an early decline and unrequited hopes. Dark outlook for trade and pursuits of any nature is prolonged by this dream.
Water: To dream of clear water, foretells that you will joyfully realize prosperity and pleasure.
Lake: To see a lake in your dream, signifies your emotional state of mind. You feel restricted or that you are unable to express your emotions freely. Alternately, the lake may provide you with solace, security and peace of mind. If the lake is clear and calm, then it symbolizes your inner peace.
House: To see a house in your dream, represents your own soul and self. Specific rooms in the house indicate a specific aspect of your psyche. Being aware of someone else in the house suggests that we may be feeling threatened by an aspect of our own personality. The house is popularly known as the seat of the soul, and in spiritual terms links us to the way we are in the world. A house represents security and safety, and therefore signifies protection and the Great Mother.
Bedroom: The bedroom portrays a place of safety where we can relax.
Bed: Since sleep is a way of leaving the busy world behind, a bed can represent a form of spiritual sanctuary and a sense of purity. For most people the bed and bedroom signify a private place. If the bed is made, then it symbolizes security.
Photographs: In dreams these can represent a spiritual need to understand the past. In a sense they are a microcosm within a microcosm, a small part within a greater whole. Obviously photographs represent memories, past occasions, perhaps past difficulties. To be looking at photographs of someone from the past is to be looking at that person's qualities, perhaps bringing them forward into our own lives and making use of those same qualities within. When we dream of looking at photographs, we are often looking at an aspect of ourselves, perhaps our younger self or part of ourselves that we no longer feel is particularly valid.\
Friends: Signify aspects of your personality that have been developing and making you grow as a person. The relationships you have with those around you are important in learning about yourself, so look to the friends you dreamed about for signals of personality traits they have that you desire in yourself, and work on those things. Additionally, dreaming of friends sometimes foretells that you will hear happy news from them.
Grandmother: To see your grandmother in your dream represents nurturance, protection and unconditional love. Consider the qualities and characteristics that exist in your own grandmother.
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Memorial Dream
After a couple weeks of unrest, I am finally sleeping well again. About a half hour ago I awoke from a vivid dream, another where I saw my dearly departed Grandma.
The dream began in some very strange city with narrow streets lined with concrete walls about three to four feet in height. It could have been in Europe, no offense intended. I was attempting to maneuver my SUV into one of the last remaining parallel parking spaces anywhere in the vicinity of my destination. My purpose there was to browse a consignment shop for furnishings as I was moving into an apartment. Despite moving into a roommate situation, the place was going to be sparse as the person moving out was taking several key pieces with them. My friend Brent made a cameo in this part of my dream.
The consignment shop had many antique pieces dating back to the 1950's and 1960's. They had other eras of furniture represented, but I was favoring the more "retro" mid century modern style furnishings. There was this brilliant wooden console, out of which popped up a vintage stereo. The console was tall and narrow with really cool wood, honey maple with an accent of light blue-green. I don't know how to describe it in words, other than in my dream it was a very unique and fabulous piece.
There was a dark turquoise-ish sofa and then this great light ruby armchair. Someone had already bought the console. I ended up buying the chair, and vaguely recall putting it in the back of my SUV.
The next part of my dream involved a memorial service for my dearly departed Grandma. My business associate Kerri had attended to pay her respects. I arrived late, I don't know what delayed me. Upon my arrival, Senator Ed Murray was just completing a eulogy of sorts. There were men in black suits, and a few members of my mom's family. I saw my aunt and three cousins. One of my cousins hugged me, I nudged by one and walked past the other.
My mom was there grief stricken, but then she wasn't there. I don't recall if it was because I continued on my way, following the procession of pallbearers. This would be quite odd for a memorial service. Still, the procession proceeded ahead of me from an outdoor, grassy area surrounded by evergreens into an enclosed area of hallways, which led to another outdoor area.
Upon entering the hallway I saw my Grandma running in my direction wearing a beautiful fuchsia-colored robe with satin collar, cuffs and hem. She looked like she did in the '80s, with large, set hairdo and her signature round eyeglasses. Her eyes were particularly blue. She had a very determined look on her face, and appeared to not be aware of my presence as she dashed by me. I felt some degree of tension for being able to see her and being unable to truly see her.
I continued through the hallways until I reached the burial site. The men-in-black pallbearers had disbursed. Ed was sitting on the lawn resting on his right elbow adjacent the site. I had been crying, and really just wanted a moment alone, yet held silent for wanting to be polite. Ed remarked about my Grandma being a wonderful lady. In reality he doesn't know anything about her. He and I only barely know one another through my involvement with the Seattle Monorail Project, the GSBA and via a mutual friend.
Sensing my desire to have a moment, Ed gets up and makes mention the ferry will be leaving shortly. I would need to be on my way soon if I intended to catch it. I told him I wasn't taking the ferry. He asked me where I lived and I told him Normandy Park. I asked if he lives in West Seattle and he affirmed, then was on his way.
Of course I consulted with my Dream Book:
Fuchsia: The color fuchsia represents your connection with your spirituality and meditation. You are letting go of old attitudes and ready for change. This color is also associated with emotional stability.
Hallway: Often represents spiritual growth and learning. They can also mean the dreamer has untapped psychic abilities. A dream of walking through a long hallway or corridor can also represent your frustration in trying to escape a repetitive situation.
Furniture: Represents how you feel about yourself and your family. It refers to your relationships with others and how they fit into your life. To dream that you are moving furniture indicates you are going out of your way to please others. Also, you may be changing your ways and trying to reevaluate your relationships/attitudes. To see old or worn furniture in your dream symbolizes outdated attitudes, former relationships and/or old ways of thinking.
Grandmother: To see your grandmother in your dream, represents nurturance, protection and unconditional love. Consider the qualities and characteristics that exist in your own grandmother.
That's all I have time to notate for now as I prepare to embark on a day-long mindfulness retreat.
The dream began in some very strange city with narrow streets lined with concrete walls about three to four feet in height. It could have been in Europe, no offense intended. I was attempting to maneuver my SUV into one of the last remaining parallel parking spaces anywhere in the vicinity of my destination. My purpose there was to browse a consignment shop for furnishings as I was moving into an apartment. Despite moving into a roommate situation, the place was going to be sparse as the person moving out was taking several key pieces with them. My friend Brent made a cameo in this part of my dream.
The consignment shop had many antique pieces dating back to the 1950's and 1960's. They had other eras of furniture represented, but I was favoring the more "retro" mid century modern style furnishings. There was this brilliant wooden console, out of which popped up a vintage stereo. The console was tall and narrow with really cool wood, honey maple with an accent of light blue-green. I don't know how to describe it in words, other than in my dream it was a very unique and fabulous piece.
There was a dark turquoise-ish sofa and then this great light ruby armchair. Someone had already bought the console. I ended up buying the chair, and vaguely recall putting it in the back of my SUV.
The next part of my dream involved a memorial service for my dearly departed Grandma. My business associate Kerri had attended to pay her respects. I arrived late, I don't know what delayed me. Upon my arrival, Senator Ed Murray was just completing a eulogy of sorts. There were men in black suits, and a few members of my mom's family. I saw my aunt and three cousins. One of my cousins hugged me, I nudged by one and walked past the other.
My mom was there grief stricken, but then she wasn't there. I don't recall if it was because I continued on my way, following the procession of pallbearers. This would be quite odd for a memorial service. Still, the procession proceeded ahead of me from an outdoor, grassy area surrounded by evergreens into an enclosed area of hallways, which led to another outdoor area.
Upon entering the hallway I saw my Grandma running in my direction wearing a beautiful fuchsia-colored robe with satin collar, cuffs and hem. She looked like she did in the '80s, with large, set hairdo and her signature round eyeglasses. Her eyes were particularly blue. She had a very determined look on her face, and appeared to not be aware of my presence as she dashed by me. I felt some degree of tension for being able to see her and being unable to truly see her.
I continued through the hallways until I reached the burial site. The men-in-black pallbearers had disbursed. Ed was sitting on the lawn resting on his right elbow adjacent the site. I had been crying, and really just wanted a moment alone, yet held silent for wanting to be polite. Ed remarked about my Grandma being a wonderful lady. In reality he doesn't know anything about her. He and I only barely know one another through my involvement with the Seattle Monorail Project, the GSBA and via a mutual friend.
Sensing my desire to have a moment, Ed gets up and makes mention the ferry will be leaving shortly. I would need to be on my way soon if I intended to catch it. I told him I wasn't taking the ferry. He asked me where I lived and I told him Normandy Park. I asked if he lives in West Seattle and he affirmed, then was on his way.
Of course I consulted with my Dream Book:
Fuchsia: The color fuchsia represents your connection with your spirituality and meditation. You are letting go of old attitudes and ready for change. This color is also associated with emotional stability.
Hallway: Often represents spiritual growth and learning. They can also mean the dreamer has untapped psychic abilities. A dream of walking through a long hallway or corridor can also represent your frustration in trying to escape a repetitive situation.
Furniture: Represents how you feel about yourself and your family. It refers to your relationships with others and how they fit into your life. To dream that you are moving furniture indicates you are going out of your way to please others. Also, you may be changing your ways and trying to reevaluate your relationships/attitudes. To see old or worn furniture in your dream symbolizes outdated attitudes, former relationships and/or old ways of thinking.
Grandmother: To see your grandmother in your dream, represents nurturance, protection and unconditional love. Consider the qualities and characteristics that exist in your own grandmother.
That's all I have time to notate for now as I prepare to embark on a day-long mindfulness retreat.
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Reality & Creation
This morning I find my "This Day in History" widget oddly synchronistic. It's entitled Creation of the World, According to Archbishop James Ussher (4004 BCE). Just last night I was listening to a couple of internet radio broadcasts, one about human origins and another about our reality construct. Yeah, I know, kind of monumental topics for humankind.
In one of the segments, the guest expert spoke of the origins of humankind. He cited biblical references that were originally written in Hebrew. Foremost, El is the word for God. This I find fascinating as I've just started a Spanish conversational class, and El is also the article for every masculine word in that language.
Even more fascinating is that the English translation of Genesis in the Bible states "In the beginning God created heaven and earth." In the Hebrew version, which long predates English, the word elohiym, commonly translated as "God" in most modern translations, is a masculine plural word meaning "powers." They also used this when it is written "Let us make man with our image and likeness." The use of personal pronouns us and our is undeniably indicative of more than one.
So what, things get lost in translation all the time. This wouldn't have any global religious or political implications now would it? Nah ...
I'm not necessarily here to dive into religion. I've always been much more of a spiritual person, one who practices tuning into the higher self, vs. religious, one who makes one's self subservient to another's narrow view of spirituality. I only recently became quite clear on that distinction, and I thank my parents for having not immersed me in religion while I was growing up. They always allowed this one particular genre to be my choice, and my choice alone. Now that's poetic justice. Many other people I know in my life have had great struggles freeing themselves from religion's suppressive nature enough to think for themselves.
So this is a really great segway into reality. What is reality? What is real?
According to Mirriam-Websters, it is "the quality or state of being real." OK, that seems just a bit vague. What does "being real" truly mean?
Wikipedia appears to have a much more comprehensive definition: "Reality is the state of things as they actually exist, rather than as they may appear or might be imagined. In a wider definition, reality includes everything that is and has been, whether or not it is observable or comprehensible." OK, that's better.
Well, we know we are real. We think, therefore we are. Thanks, Rene Descartes. In mindfulness practice, there is much emphasis on following one's breath. Such is also the case for the basis of meditation practice. Breathing is a vital source of aliveness within the body. Following the ebbs and flows of one's breath is a very real experience. It's the first step toward being able to look more inward, toward being able to see things as they truly are.
Much of the time we are subjected to the chaos that is our modern world. Everyday we're beamed with electromagnetic radiation, breathe polluted air, drink polluted water and eat foods that have been modified in some way shape or form. Now that's what exists on the physical level. We also fight traffic getting from point A to point B, get into conflicts with fellow humans, our minds absorb hundreds if not thousands of advertised messages daily (positive, negative or neutral) and we're constantly bombarded with the chaos outside our doors through mass (and now also social) media, whether we even step foot outside our doors. We tend not to think about this reality on a daily basis. This is real. This is what it so. I cannot imagine this doesn't adversely affect people and their states of being.
When everyone was a fuss over the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012, and I must also admit I had my own uncertainties via media influence, I've also come to realize we may just in fact be entering a new phase of reality. Try on that our collective human consciousness is waking up, and we are embarking on the next stage of our evolutionary journey.
I'm going to wrap up today by sharing an infamous quote I find highly inspiring:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson
What you chose to do with this is now up to you ...
In one of the segments, the guest expert spoke of the origins of humankind. He cited biblical references that were originally written in Hebrew. Foremost, El is the word for God. This I find fascinating as I've just started a Spanish conversational class, and El is also the article for every masculine word in that language.
Even more fascinating is that the English translation of Genesis in the Bible states "In the beginning God created heaven and earth." In the Hebrew version, which long predates English, the word elohiym, commonly translated as "God" in most modern translations, is a masculine plural word meaning "powers." They also used this when it is written "Let us make man with our image and likeness." The use of personal pronouns us and our is undeniably indicative of more than one.
So what, things get lost in translation all the time. This wouldn't have any global religious or political implications now would it? Nah ...
I'm not necessarily here to dive into religion. I've always been much more of a spiritual person, one who practices tuning into the higher self, vs. religious, one who makes one's self subservient to another's narrow view of spirituality. I only recently became quite clear on that distinction, and I thank my parents for having not immersed me in religion while I was growing up. They always allowed this one particular genre to be my choice, and my choice alone. Now that's poetic justice. Many other people I know in my life have had great struggles freeing themselves from religion's suppressive nature enough to think for themselves.
So this is a really great segway into reality. What is reality? What is real?
According to Mirriam-Websters, it is "the quality or state of being real." OK, that seems just a bit vague. What does "being real" truly mean?
Wikipedia appears to have a much more comprehensive definition: "Reality is the state of things as they actually exist, rather than as they may appear or might be imagined. In a wider definition, reality includes everything that is and has been, whether or not it is observable or comprehensible." OK, that's better.
Well, we know we are real. We think, therefore we are. Thanks, Rene Descartes. In mindfulness practice, there is much emphasis on following one's breath. Such is also the case for the basis of meditation practice. Breathing is a vital source of aliveness within the body. Following the ebbs and flows of one's breath is a very real experience. It's the first step toward being able to look more inward, toward being able to see things as they truly are.
Much of the time we are subjected to the chaos that is our modern world. Everyday we're beamed with electromagnetic radiation, breathe polluted air, drink polluted water and eat foods that have been modified in some way shape or form. Now that's what exists on the physical level. We also fight traffic getting from point A to point B, get into conflicts with fellow humans, our minds absorb hundreds if not thousands of advertised messages daily (positive, negative or neutral) and we're constantly bombarded with the chaos outside our doors through mass (and now also social) media, whether we even step foot outside our doors. We tend not to think about this reality on a daily basis. This is real. This is what it so. I cannot imagine this doesn't adversely affect people and their states of being.
When everyone was a fuss over the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012, and I must also admit I had my own uncertainties via media influence, I've also come to realize we may just in fact be entering a new phase of reality. Try on that our collective human consciousness is waking up, and we are embarking on the next stage of our evolutionary journey.
I'm going to wrap up today by sharing an infamous quote I find highly inspiring:
"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, and fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people will not feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone and as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give others permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others." - Marianne Williamson
What you chose to do with this is now up to you ...
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
Living Without Preference
Recently a couple of my close friends confided they've not been happy. One of them thinks they might have edged into depression. I've certainly had my ups and downs on the roller coaster of autoimmune disorder.
Of course as a compassionate friend my first instinct is to want my friends to be happy. So I'm naturally inclined to want to help them find the silver lining, sugar coat it and then beam a ray of sunshine on it. That would be the Planet Unicorn brand of uber gay.
My acupuncturist treated me yesterday for what he labeled as Running Piglet Syndrome. By Western definition my body had an over abundance of thyroid hormone. Apparently this caused my rapid heart rate, palpitations and trouble catching my breath over the weekend.
While on his table we discussed moods and feelings, among many other things. Basically there's a "therapy" component to his treatment. He treats his reaction to how I occur for him based on my thoughts and feelings about my current state of being. I know, that sounds like the Southern California brand of flaky and weird. So what, it works.
After I related the sadness I experienced over the weekend, he says, "Maybe it's about living life without preference."
What did he mean by that exactly? I'll tell you. Most of us enjoy being happy, feeling well and having a sense of contentment with ourselves and our lives. It would then stand to reason most of us prefer to be happy, prefer to feel well and prefer to have a sense of contentment. These states of being are fleeting. All states of being are. We cannot know the light without the dark.
Living without preference, I believe, means accepting where you are in the moment exactly as it is. Being present. Finding contentment in whatever state of being happens upon one's self.
As I reflected on my sadness from a couple nights ago, I found comfort and contentment in those moments. I put on some beautiful chill, moody (but not dark) jazz. Brought the lights in the house down to a warm glow. Practiced a mindfulness based meditation. Ate some delicious homemade chicken noodle soup. Spent some cozy time on the sofa with one of the cutest little dogs in the whole world. Opened myself up to make some expressions in writing. The one thing I did not do was resist my emotional and physical states of being. All in all, despite not being where I originally wanted to be, I ended up in a wonderful place.
My chiropractic practitioner, who is also a good friend, says, "Health doesn't just happen to people. You have to work at it." Indeed.
After giving it some thought, I felt it more worthwhile to impart this information about preference with my friends who complained of not being happy. I'm not sure whether they found this useful, or if they even understand it. I just feel grateful for having discovered this distinction so I can be more mindful about putting this into practice for my life as I have already enjoyed the benefits of this mindset.
Of course as a compassionate friend my first instinct is to want my friends to be happy. So I'm naturally inclined to want to help them find the silver lining, sugar coat it and then beam a ray of sunshine on it. That would be the Planet Unicorn brand of uber gay.
My acupuncturist treated me yesterday for what he labeled as Running Piglet Syndrome. By Western definition my body had an over abundance of thyroid hormone. Apparently this caused my rapid heart rate, palpitations and trouble catching my breath over the weekend.
While on his table we discussed moods and feelings, among many other things. Basically there's a "therapy" component to his treatment. He treats his reaction to how I occur for him based on my thoughts and feelings about my current state of being. I know, that sounds like the Southern California brand of flaky and weird. So what, it works.
After I related the sadness I experienced over the weekend, he says, "Maybe it's about living life without preference."
What did he mean by that exactly? I'll tell you. Most of us enjoy being happy, feeling well and having a sense of contentment with ourselves and our lives. It would then stand to reason most of us prefer to be happy, prefer to feel well and prefer to have a sense of contentment. These states of being are fleeting. All states of being are. We cannot know the light without the dark.
Living without preference, I believe, means accepting where you are in the moment exactly as it is. Being present. Finding contentment in whatever state of being happens upon one's self.
As I reflected on my sadness from a couple nights ago, I found comfort and contentment in those moments. I put on some beautiful chill, moody (but not dark) jazz. Brought the lights in the house down to a warm glow. Practiced a mindfulness based meditation. Ate some delicious homemade chicken noodle soup. Spent some cozy time on the sofa with one of the cutest little dogs in the whole world. Opened myself up to make some expressions in writing. The one thing I did not do was resist my emotional and physical states of being. All in all, despite not being where I originally wanted to be, I ended up in a wonderful place.
My chiropractic practitioner, who is also a good friend, says, "Health doesn't just happen to people. You have to work at it." Indeed.
After giving it some thought, I felt it more worthwhile to impart this information about preference with my friends who complained of not being happy. I'm not sure whether they found this useful, or if they even understand it. I just feel grateful for having discovered this distinction so I can be more mindful about putting this into practice for my life as I have already enjoyed the benefits of this mindset.
Saturday, October 19, 2013
Alienation: The side effect of chronic illness
I've been living with an autoimmune disorder since the end of 2012. I'm not even sure which one exactly. I've only recently learned there are nearly 100 types of this disorder, and many other variations of it have yet to be defined. About one in five of us are living with this type of disease. Someone you know may have it, and you may not even be aware.
Before this disease showed up in my life, I was very active and highly social. While I've gradually become much more stable in my daily life, most days tending to healing, work and home is about all I have bandwidth for. When I break it down it sounds like I lead such a simple life. I wish, most of us wish (even if on a subconscious level).
Take today for example. My fiance and I had just finished breakfast. For once in a long time we actually had a whole weekend day with nothing on the calendar to tend to. I stood up from the breakfast table and suddenly I didn't feel so well. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, it was just a general sense that my respiratory and cardiovascular functions were out of alignment. I could feel my heart thump away in my chest and it felt as though I had to focus a little to catch my breath.
I laid down, and the sensation of my pounding heart intensified. I stayed calm, a challenge when one's body feels as though it may just fatally fail. After several hours of laying in bed, some of the time sleeping, some of the time meditating and some of the time just silently freaking out, things calmed down. My resting heart rate fell from 124 beats per minute to between 80-88. I felt kinda blah the rest of the day, and regarded the event as my body's unique way of letting me know it needed me to lay low this weekend.
My fiance and I were supposed to attend a couple of birthday celebrations tonight. I was looking forward to both of them. I was looking forward to seeing my friends. More and more I see less and less of my friends.
I honestly don't know what's worse, the seeming impasse I'm having with the healing process, which is anything but expeditious or linear, or falling out of bounds with my sphere.
It's hard to explain my body's limitations to people, and quite honestly I can't think of a less inspiring subject to regale people with. Whether I'm able to be social comes down to a couple of things for me. 1) Does it involve food I may have an adverse reaction to? 2) Do I have the wherewithall? Sometimes just standing and mingling takes extra effort, then add being authentic, engaged and interesting into the equation. I know, it's ridiculous to even read that I just wrote that.
There was a time I didn't want to really talk about this disease, partially because I may have been in denial about living with chronic illness, partly because it's such an uninspiring topic, but mostly due to the shortness of breath I had been experiencing. I could barely hold even the briefest of conversations on some days without becoming very fatigued.
I've been very quiet and contemplative today. This evening my fiance and I had a great heart-to-heart. I confessed how much I miss my friends and my sadness around this. I discovered the longer I chart this course, the more I relinquish hope of a full recovery. I acknowledged my fiance's suffering. He would love for us to travel, to visit our lovely seaside village in Mexico. We've not really left home for many, many months. My disease has made him a prisoner. Those are my words, not his.
Through his and my exchange, I gained clarity on what is going well. We are going well. He is an amazing support to me. He is the one who checks in with me regularly, gives me a wonderful sense of feeling cared for and loved despite no longer being the "life of the party." Our home is an amazing sanctuary. I love our home and what we've created it in. I love where we live. The peace and tranquility surrounding our home environment is beautifully idyllic. We have the cutest, sweetest most loving little Daschund. We have a loving and supportive family, well he does mostly. I have my mom, who I deeply care for and love.
There are so many questions yet to be answered. I wonder whether I'll truly ever recover my wellness. I wonder whether I'll be full of vitality daily and rekindle that unbridled enthusiasm for life. I wonder whether I'll ever have that comforting, familiar sense of normalcy around my life again.
I was sad today because I read an article written by a woman with autoimmune disease. It wasn't the article. It was relating to her sense of having become an imposter. I can deal with the disease. I've been dealing with it for about a year. It's the realization I've lost a part of my identity that's much more of a challenge to face. I can physically feel how much more serious I've become. Whereas I used to come at life so playfully.
My hope is, whether I fully recover my health, I can fully recover my self ...
Before this disease showed up in my life, I was very active and highly social. While I've gradually become much more stable in my daily life, most days tending to healing, work and home is about all I have bandwidth for. When I break it down it sounds like I lead such a simple life. I wish, most of us wish (even if on a subconscious level).
Take today for example. My fiance and I had just finished breakfast. For once in a long time we actually had a whole weekend day with nothing on the calendar to tend to. I stood up from the breakfast table and suddenly I didn't feel so well. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, it was just a general sense that my respiratory and cardiovascular functions were out of alignment. I could feel my heart thump away in my chest and it felt as though I had to focus a little to catch my breath.
I laid down, and the sensation of my pounding heart intensified. I stayed calm, a challenge when one's body feels as though it may just fatally fail. After several hours of laying in bed, some of the time sleeping, some of the time meditating and some of the time just silently freaking out, things calmed down. My resting heart rate fell from 124 beats per minute to between 80-88. I felt kinda blah the rest of the day, and regarded the event as my body's unique way of letting me know it needed me to lay low this weekend.
My fiance and I were supposed to attend a couple of birthday celebrations tonight. I was looking forward to both of them. I was looking forward to seeing my friends. More and more I see less and less of my friends.
I honestly don't know what's worse, the seeming impasse I'm having with the healing process, which is anything but expeditious or linear, or falling out of bounds with my sphere.
It's hard to explain my body's limitations to people, and quite honestly I can't think of a less inspiring subject to regale people with. Whether I'm able to be social comes down to a couple of things for me. 1) Does it involve food I may have an adverse reaction to? 2) Do I have the wherewithall? Sometimes just standing and mingling takes extra effort, then add being authentic, engaged and interesting into the equation. I know, it's ridiculous to even read that I just wrote that.
There was a time I didn't want to really talk about this disease, partially because I may have been in denial about living with chronic illness, partly because it's such an uninspiring topic, but mostly due to the shortness of breath I had been experiencing. I could barely hold even the briefest of conversations on some days without becoming very fatigued.
I've been very quiet and contemplative today. This evening my fiance and I had a great heart-to-heart. I confessed how much I miss my friends and my sadness around this. I discovered the longer I chart this course, the more I relinquish hope of a full recovery. I acknowledged my fiance's suffering. He would love for us to travel, to visit our lovely seaside village in Mexico. We've not really left home for many, many months. My disease has made him a prisoner. Those are my words, not his.
Through his and my exchange, I gained clarity on what is going well. We are going well. He is an amazing support to me. He is the one who checks in with me regularly, gives me a wonderful sense of feeling cared for and loved despite no longer being the "life of the party." Our home is an amazing sanctuary. I love our home and what we've created it in. I love where we live. The peace and tranquility surrounding our home environment is beautifully idyllic. We have the cutest, sweetest most loving little Daschund. We have a loving and supportive family, well he does mostly. I have my mom, who I deeply care for and love.
There are so many questions yet to be answered. I wonder whether I'll truly ever recover my wellness. I wonder whether I'll be full of vitality daily and rekindle that unbridled enthusiasm for life. I wonder whether I'll ever have that comforting, familiar sense of normalcy around my life again.
I was sad today because I read an article written by a woman with autoimmune disease. It wasn't the article. It was relating to her sense of having become an imposter. I can deal with the disease. I've been dealing with it for about a year. It's the realization I've lost a part of my identity that's much more of a challenge to face. I can physically feel how much more serious I've become. Whereas I used to come at life so playfully.
My hope is, whether I fully recover my health, I can fully recover my self ...
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Today We Mourn the Death of Print Journalism?
RIP Mustang Daily
1916 - 2013
Today I received news via Facebook from my former journalism school comrades; our Mustang Daily newspaper is no more: http://mustangdaily.net/coming-soon-mustang-news/
"Mustang Daily embodied a now-dead form of journalism," wrote J.J. Jenkins, a business administration senior and Mustang Daily editor in chief, about the paper's degradation to a twice-weekly print piece.
The paper began on April 26, 1916, just 15 years after Cal Poly opened its doors. Until its final day (yesterday), the paper published five days a week, and was the only daily in the United States produced entirely by students (from the writing and ad design to the actual printing).
For those of us learning the craft of journalism, we couldn't have had a more comprehensive lab than a real life newsroom experience. The Daily enjoyed a solid readership within the university and also within the greater San Luis Obispo community. Dissemination was guaranteed without prior restraint.
Sure, we made plenty of mistakes. We had occasional spelling and syntax errors. We also had the uber controversial story or opinion which set off a deluge of passionate letters. For a dying breed, we certainly received plenty of lively engagement from the student body and general public.
I have to admit my heart hurt when I read the news our daily student newspaper is no more. As I reflected on my experience on the Daily staff, I realized why it meant so much to me. Among all the wonderful things I found working at the Daily (deadlines, adrenaline rushes, joy, comradery, acceptance), I ultimately found my craft; my voice. Eureka.
They can scrap the paper, or even burn down the graphic arts building for that matter. Our experience at the Daily, which helped shape many of its former staff into the people they are today, will be with us always.
I responded to the Facebook post with a couple of comments:
"I would be remiss by not acknowledging our time at the Daily as symbolic of our unique generation; the bridge between past and future at the dawn of the digital age."
"BTW, anyone else find it a sobering sign of the times that a business admin sr. is editor in chief? The parallel being how corporations have systematically hijacked media and destroyed information for profit. Just an observation ..."
As we lay to rest nearly 100 years of first amendment daily tradition, it is important to acknowledge all that has changed and all that hasn't. Journalism school lesson numero uno: always question authority ...
1916 - 2013
Today I received news via Facebook from my former journalism school comrades; our Mustang Daily newspaper is no more: http://mustangdaily.net/coming-soon-mustang-news/
"Mustang Daily embodied a now-dead form of journalism," wrote J.J. Jenkins, a business administration senior and Mustang Daily editor in chief, about the paper's degradation to a twice-weekly print piece.
The paper began on April 26, 1916, just 15 years after Cal Poly opened its doors. Until its final day (yesterday), the paper published five days a week, and was the only daily in the United States produced entirely by students (from the writing and ad design to the actual printing).
For those of us learning the craft of journalism, we couldn't have had a more comprehensive lab than a real life newsroom experience. The Daily enjoyed a solid readership within the university and also within the greater San Luis Obispo community. Dissemination was guaranteed without prior restraint.
Sure, we made plenty of mistakes. We had occasional spelling and syntax errors. We also had the uber controversial story or opinion which set off a deluge of passionate letters. For a dying breed, we certainly received plenty of lively engagement from the student body and general public.
I have to admit my heart hurt when I read the news our daily student newspaper is no more. As I reflected on my experience on the Daily staff, I realized why it meant so much to me. Among all the wonderful things I found working at the Daily (deadlines, adrenaline rushes, joy, comradery, acceptance), I ultimately found my craft; my voice. Eureka.
They can scrap the paper, or even burn down the graphic arts building for that matter. Our experience at the Daily, which helped shape many of its former staff into the people they are today, will be with us always.
I responded to the Facebook post with a couple of comments:
"I would be remiss by not acknowledging our time at the Daily as symbolic of our unique generation; the bridge between past and future at the dawn of the digital age."
"BTW, anyone else find it a sobering sign of the times that a business admin sr. is editor in chief? The parallel being how corporations have systematically hijacked media and destroyed information for profit. Just an observation ..."
As we lay to rest nearly 100 years of first amendment daily tradition, it is important to acknowledge all that has changed and all that hasn't. Journalism school lesson numero uno: always question authority ...
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Was it a farewell dream?
Tuesday night I had a strange dream. Three people I've not before seen in my dreams were present; my aunt Gini, my brother and my estranged (adoptive) "dad." Yet the dream actually centered around my dearly departed Grandma.
The setting was someplace like Washington's San Juan Islands. My brother, "dad" and I were awaiting my Grandma's arrival. My aunt was escorting her on the ferry.
As is true with many dreams, the landscape was pretty unusual. For example, there were canals and channels that ran on inclines. The one the ferry was expected to sail up resembled a giant log flue. There were very rounded hills that looked a bit cartoonesque in shape. The village as it were had cute cottages with canals running between rows of them.
We had to be right at the dock for Grandma's arrival as she has mobility issues stemming from a herniated disk in her lower back. The approaching ferry looked more like a very common green fishing boat; this one used exclusively for walk-on passengers. As the boat neared the dock, I saw my aunt standing behind an empty wheelchair and my Grandma standing next to her. My aunt wore a red sweater. My Grandma wore black, semi-light-weight material pants and a gray sweater. This was very unlike her as incarnate she always wore colors, bright colors.
The moment my Grandma and I saw one another, we extended the same hand as though waving at ourselves in the mirror. We both grinned ear to ear. We waved at each other vigorously as joyful tears streamed down our cheeks. A profound feeling of elation washed over me. I had never before been so excited to see another being as I was to see my dearest Grandma.
The boat hadn't yet tied up to the dock, and my Grandma leaped out of the boat at me! She flew right into my arms and I caught her. We embraced and wept joyfully. No sooner had I began to grasp that moment, I awoke.
My feelings and emotions around this connection were so real, they stayed with me well into my awakened consciousness that morning.
I mentioned this dream to my best friend. She had the same sense I did; my Grandma wanted me to know she was crossing over into the eternal afterlife. The ferry is one of the oldest symbols of transition between life and the afterlife; crossing the River Styx. This may seem strange. I also have this sense she wouldn't have crossed over unless she knew I was going to be OK, and I think she was assuring me we are going to reunite. My heart of hearts already knew this. Still, this was an extraordinarily enchanted vision I am so grateful for.
The setting was someplace like Washington's San Juan Islands. My brother, "dad" and I were awaiting my Grandma's arrival. My aunt was escorting her on the ferry.
As is true with many dreams, the landscape was pretty unusual. For example, there were canals and channels that ran on inclines. The one the ferry was expected to sail up resembled a giant log flue. There were very rounded hills that looked a bit cartoonesque in shape. The village as it were had cute cottages with canals running between rows of them.
We had to be right at the dock for Grandma's arrival as she has mobility issues stemming from a herniated disk in her lower back. The approaching ferry looked more like a very common green fishing boat; this one used exclusively for walk-on passengers. As the boat neared the dock, I saw my aunt standing behind an empty wheelchair and my Grandma standing next to her. My aunt wore a red sweater. My Grandma wore black, semi-light-weight material pants and a gray sweater. This was very unlike her as incarnate she always wore colors, bright colors.
The moment my Grandma and I saw one another, we extended the same hand as though waving at ourselves in the mirror. We both grinned ear to ear. We waved at each other vigorously as joyful tears streamed down our cheeks. A profound feeling of elation washed over me. I had never before been so excited to see another being as I was to see my dearest Grandma.
The boat hadn't yet tied up to the dock, and my Grandma leaped out of the boat at me! She flew right into my arms and I caught her. We embraced and wept joyfully. No sooner had I began to grasp that moment, I awoke.
My feelings and emotions around this connection were so real, they stayed with me well into my awakened consciousness that morning.
I mentioned this dream to my best friend. She had the same sense I did; my Grandma wanted me to know she was crossing over into the eternal afterlife. The ferry is one of the oldest symbols of transition between life and the afterlife; crossing the River Styx. This may seem strange. I also have this sense she wouldn't have crossed over unless she knew I was going to be OK, and I think she was assuring me we are going to reunite. My heart of hearts already knew this. Still, this was an extraordinarily enchanted vision I am so grateful for.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
911 This Day In History ...
My 'This Day in History' widget of course paid homage today to the September 11, 2001 US domestic terrorism events. I recall vividly where I was twelve years ago today, trying in vain to get a few more minutes of sleep before embarking on my trans-Lake Washington commute from Downtown Seattle to Downtown Bellevue.
My former partner RC and I had a corded phone line back then; most people still did. That morning the apartment phone kept ringing and ringing. I finally gave in, got up and answered it. On the other end a panicked voice commanded I turn on the TV at once. So I did, and upon doing so saw one of the World Trade Center towers falling straight down into a cloud of dust.
"Terrorists fucking blew up the World Trade Center!" the voice on the other end exclaimed as I still stood before the screen shocked, not yet able to process what had just occurred. Had I mentioned this is what I awoke to, a day following a flight home from Austin, TX where I had for the first time reconnected with members of my biological family? Kind of already had a bit too much to process at the time. My mind was on overload.
Oh, the voice on the other end of the phone line was Kasey Frix, RC's childhood best friend and our neighbor down the block. At the time we lived on Seattle's First Hill.
I expeditiously hung up with Kasey and went to inform RC of what was happening. He too had been inconvenienced by the excessive phone ringing. He too was completely shocked to learn why our phone was ringing to no avail.
Only a couple years prior we were holed up in our top floor apartment while militant helicopters hovered outside our windows. We literally saw a view of our living room on the evening news from the outside perspective while we sat watching TV in our living room. We stayed in off the streets that night for the mobs of people protesting the militia of police in riot gear clearing them from Downtown Seattle streets into our neighborhood during the World Trade Organization shutdown in 1999.
This was different. This was a whole new brand of fuck the people, theft and utter hatred. The message was clear. The result registered as fear.
RC and I both must have looked like utter zombies. We couldn't stop watching what the news media was relaying. It was completely surreal, like a catastrophic disaster. Only this one appeared completely, diabolically premeditated and precisely orchestrated.
We were in disbelief of people jumping from windows, as if the choice to die falling from an incredible height was so much better than being burned to death inside a smoldering skyscraper. Dozens, hundreds, possibly thousands fleeing the scene for their lives with thick clouds of debris rapidly closing in on them. What were we really watching that day, hell on Earth?
Somehow I managed to rip myself away, get myself together and head into work. The downtown streets were abuzz with activity. The transit tunnel was equally busy. I boarded a fairly crowded Sound Transit 550 Express. It would seem to be just an extra heavy volume commute except for the haunting silence. People didn't say much, didn't move much, just sheepishly went about their business of getting from point A to B. A few people were crying.
As we rolled into the Pioneer Square station, the platforms were nearly overflowing with downtown workers who had been evacuated from Seattle's tallest skycraper, the Columbia Tower. From that one stop, the 550 filled to standing room only capacity, perhaps a bit beyond.
My head was still in a fog. So much so I didn't even notice we had already driven across the lake and over Mercer Island. I snapped out of my fog in Bellevue as I watched passengers disembark to loved ones that had come to pick them up at the Eastside Park and Ride. One woman broke into sobbing tears as a man approached and then wrapped his arms around her.
"Did she lose someone, a fellow compatriot, a friend, a loved one? Or like everyone else alive was she just so horrified by what happened and/or fearful of what lie ahead? What am I doing going into work today?" I thought to myself, and then surrendered to the thought a distraction might just be beneficial.
When I reached the office, my colleagues were all tuned into the day's main events. It became uber clear there was no escaping this sinister reality, none whatsoever. Suddenly an alarm sounded in the building followed by a uniformed officer entering our lobby.
"This is an evacuation order. Please exit the building immediately." he said authoritatively.
Evidently someone left an unattended briefcase in the Social Security offices upstairs. No one was taking any chances. Everyone was on high alert. The bomb squad was en route.
We walked out into the bright sunlight, which was brilliantly reflected off the mirrored glass-faced surrounding skyscrapers. Amid the shuffle, the sound of a small aircraft sputtered overhead. Based on my own internal response as well as from those around me, we were all nervously awaiting the proverbial other shoe to drop. Then I decided I wasn't waiting around any longer. It was time to go home.
I kept replaying the building collapses over and over in my mind. Aside from the obvious, why did this look so strangely peculiar to me? Then I recalled the building collapse I was witness to the year before; the Kingdome demolition. A sports arena, which would be completely dwarfed by the twin towers, took weeks if not months of planning for the structure to fall in on itself and directly downward to the ground. At 110 stories, how the hell were those buildings able to fall perfectly downward without toppling over in one direction or another? It really begs deep and thorough questioning.
Few Americans think on this day and recall September 11, 1973. This was the day in history our country backed a coup in Chile, resulting in thousands dead and the assassination of that country's first publicly elected president. This got me thinking about what our government is capable of. Can't balance a budget for shit. Change the political landscape of other nations to benefit our interests, no problemo!
One thing in particular I find odd about our domestic 911. If foreign operatives wanted so badly to boldly send a message to the American people and the people of the world, why didn't they strike the towers after the morning commute had ended? About 50,000 people used to work in the twin towers. Yet most workers were still en route to their jobs when the planes struck. Why not strike a bit later for maximum impact? It almost seems as though there was some intention around minimizing loss of life. Why? What's the difference between a few thousand and tens of thousands? Wouldn't a far greater death toll punctuate the "shock and awe" factor? Maybe with the high degree of expert planning involved in executing this unprecedented operation they just simply overlooked that.
The events of our domestic 911 had a profound, short lived silver lining. For a brief moment in history, we as Americans stood united and the world stood with us. Different from the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Eastern Block which was celebratory, this was more like an unspoken bond. Our collective sense of domestic peace and security as a nation had been unimaginably, totally violated. This wasn't just an attack on America. This was an attack on our society. Unconsciously, I think most everyone had some sense of this, even if they couldn't articulate it. We were kinder to one another, more understanding of our differences, for a time anyway.
One has to wonder if this public solidarity was an unintended consequence the evil-doers hadn't taken into account. In the days following 911, the Bush Administration certainly did a great job of re-polarizing the American public, manipulating the masses with scare tactics and ultimately capitalizing on 911 to usurp our civil liberties through the "Patriot" Act. Sadly, the Obama Administration has maintained the status quo by extending the Patriot Act.
Regardless of your political affiliation, if you're an American still residing domestically, there's no denying the brave new post-911 world we live in. If we're to move forward and prosper as a nation, we must do so as a collective. How soon we forget. United we stand ...
My former partner RC and I had a corded phone line back then; most people still did. That morning the apartment phone kept ringing and ringing. I finally gave in, got up and answered it. On the other end a panicked voice commanded I turn on the TV at once. So I did, and upon doing so saw one of the World Trade Center towers falling straight down into a cloud of dust.
"Terrorists fucking blew up the World Trade Center!" the voice on the other end exclaimed as I still stood before the screen shocked, not yet able to process what had just occurred. Had I mentioned this is what I awoke to, a day following a flight home from Austin, TX where I had for the first time reconnected with members of my biological family? Kind of already had a bit too much to process at the time. My mind was on overload.
Oh, the voice on the other end of the phone line was Kasey Frix, RC's childhood best friend and our neighbor down the block. At the time we lived on Seattle's First Hill.
I expeditiously hung up with Kasey and went to inform RC of what was happening. He too had been inconvenienced by the excessive phone ringing. He too was completely shocked to learn why our phone was ringing to no avail.
Only a couple years prior we were holed up in our top floor apartment while militant helicopters hovered outside our windows. We literally saw a view of our living room on the evening news from the outside perspective while we sat watching TV in our living room. We stayed in off the streets that night for the mobs of people protesting the militia of police in riot gear clearing them from Downtown Seattle streets into our neighborhood during the World Trade Organization shutdown in 1999.
This was different. This was a whole new brand of fuck the people, theft and utter hatred. The message was clear. The result registered as fear.
RC and I both must have looked like utter zombies. We couldn't stop watching what the news media was relaying. It was completely surreal, like a catastrophic disaster. Only this one appeared completely, diabolically premeditated and precisely orchestrated.
We were in disbelief of people jumping from windows, as if the choice to die falling from an incredible height was so much better than being burned to death inside a smoldering skyscraper. Dozens, hundreds, possibly thousands fleeing the scene for their lives with thick clouds of debris rapidly closing in on them. What were we really watching that day, hell on Earth?
Somehow I managed to rip myself away, get myself together and head into work. The downtown streets were abuzz with activity. The transit tunnel was equally busy. I boarded a fairly crowded Sound Transit 550 Express. It would seem to be just an extra heavy volume commute except for the haunting silence. People didn't say much, didn't move much, just sheepishly went about their business of getting from point A to B. A few people were crying.
As we rolled into the Pioneer Square station, the platforms were nearly overflowing with downtown workers who had been evacuated from Seattle's tallest skycraper, the Columbia Tower. From that one stop, the 550 filled to standing room only capacity, perhaps a bit beyond.
My head was still in a fog. So much so I didn't even notice we had already driven across the lake and over Mercer Island. I snapped out of my fog in Bellevue as I watched passengers disembark to loved ones that had come to pick them up at the Eastside Park and Ride. One woman broke into sobbing tears as a man approached and then wrapped his arms around her.
"Did she lose someone, a fellow compatriot, a friend, a loved one? Or like everyone else alive was she just so horrified by what happened and/or fearful of what lie ahead? What am I doing going into work today?" I thought to myself, and then surrendered to the thought a distraction might just be beneficial.
When I reached the office, my colleagues were all tuned into the day's main events. It became uber clear there was no escaping this sinister reality, none whatsoever. Suddenly an alarm sounded in the building followed by a uniformed officer entering our lobby.
"This is an evacuation order. Please exit the building immediately." he said authoritatively.
Evidently someone left an unattended briefcase in the Social Security offices upstairs. No one was taking any chances. Everyone was on high alert. The bomb squad was en route.
We walked out into the bright sunlight, which was brilliantly reflected off the mirrored glass-faced surrounding skyscrapers. Amid the shuffle, the sound of a small aircraft sputtered overhead. Based on my own internal response as well as from those around me, we were all nervously awaiting the proverbial other shoe to drop. Then I decided I wasn't waiting around any longer. It was time to go home.
I kept replaying the building collapses over and over in my mind. Aside from the obvious, why did this look so strangely peculiar to me? Then I recalled the building collapse I was witness to the year before; the Kingdome demolition. A sports arena, which would be completely dwarfed by the twin towers, took weeks if not months of planning for the structure to fall in on itself and directly downward to the ground. At 110 stories, how the hell were those buildings able to fall perfectly downward without toppling over in one direction or another? It really begs deep and thorough questioning.
Few Americans think on this day and recall September 11, 1973. This was the day in history our country backed a coup in Chile, resulting in thousands dead and the assassination of that country's first publicly elected president. This got me thinking about what our government is capable of. Can't balance a budget for shit. Change the political landscape of other nations to benefit our interests, no problemo!
One thing in particular I find odd about our domestic 911. If foreign operatives wanted so badly to boldly send a message to the American people and the people of the world, why didn't they strike the towers after the morning commute had ended? About 50,000 people used to work in the twin towers. Yet most workers were still en route to their jobs when the planes struck. Why not strike a bit later for maximum impact? It almost seems as though there was some intention around minimizing loss of life. Why? What's the difference between a few thousand and tens of thousands? Wouldn't a far greater death toll punctuate the "shock and awe" factor? Maybe with the high degree of expert planning involved in executing this unprecedented operation they just simply overlooked that.
The events of our domestic 911 had a profound, short lived silver lining. For a brief moment in history, we as Americans stood united and the world stood with us. Different from the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Eastern Block which was celebratory, this was more like an unspoken bond. Our collective sense of domestic peace and security as a nation had been unimaginably, totally violated. This wasn't just an attack on America. This was an attack on our society. Unconsciously, I think most everyone had some sense of this, even if they couldn't articulate it. We were kinder to one another, more understanding of our differences, for a time anyway.
One has to wonder if this public solidarity was an unintended consequence the evil-doers hadn't taken into account. In the days following 911, the Bush Administration certainly did a great job of re-polarizing the American public, manipulating the masses with scare tactics and ultimately capitalizing on 911 to usurp our civil liberties through the "Patriot" Act. Sadly, the Obama Administration has maintained the status quo by extending the Patriot Act.
Regardless of your political affiliation, if you're an American still residing domestically, there's no denying the brave new post-911 world we live in. If we're to move forward and prosper as a nation, we must do so as a collective. How soon we forget. United we stand ...
Monday, September 9, 2013
People Power
I find this highly inspiring: http://www.upworthy.com/a-bunch-of-young-geniuses-just-made-a-corrupt-corporation-freak-out-big-time-time-for-round?g=2
The world could use a lot more inspiration ...
The world could use a lot more inspiration ...
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