Spirit Speak

The day began warm and beautiful; stunning deep blue sky and slight billowing clouds…

There was a feeling of electricity in the air, literally. As the day wore on the clouds began to gather in earnest and the sky became a milky white, gray. Lightening began to strike in front of the house, thick as a tree trunk with

crackling branches.  It struck over and over in the same place with sparkling lights dancing inside the clouds and tremendous thunder. It felt a bit like the war of the worlds when the lightening began to move over the house. Then the house was sitting inside the dark cloud with torrents of rain splashing like ocean waves and wind like a hurricane. Lightening continuing to strike like giant lungs breathing fire…in…and out…

Then the cloud was in back of the house and the rain became a light patter, the lightening drew back up into the sky and a shaft of bright light wedged its way through the black clouds. That is when we walked outside, a bit excited with the electricity. As we stood breathing in the perfume of the wet desert, a rainbow began to form. Luminous at first but then it began to solidify; solid shafts of vibrant, electric color, as thick as a 300 hundred year old redwood tree. And as we stood inside the rainbow, right in the center,  another formed above it, complete from beginning to end. A double blessing, another promise…We inhaled the vibration of the color with each breath, in…and out…

And then we noticed a sound that had not been there before. We walked to the precipice and looked down into the canyon at the dried up arroyo…and there, wonders of wonders, was an impromptu river, 10 feet wide and 2 feet deep., rushing through the arroyo to the Rio Puerco. We darted down into the canyon to feel the grace of the moment. The power of it was breathtaking…and we breathed in that power…in…and out…

As we turned to go back up to the house, there between the rock faces was the sliver of the brand new moon. Another promise…

Later, lying in the utter black of night, I woke and looked into the sky…One meteor streamed past as big as the sun, leaving a long lazy tail before it blinked away…

Sometimes the storm builds…Sometimes it crashes black around you and there is fear and confusion…sometimes a light shines through the darkness and the colors begin to surround you…sometimes inside that light, peace begins to descend…sometimes the power of that peace allows you to see a new beginning…sometimes there is a promise of light after the darkness, color after the void, living water after a dry spell, a miracle inside the storm…

Sometimes, when you doubt who you are, what your part is in the grand play of life, how you fit into the puzzle, why it is you are here…sometimes when you are despondent, confused, unsure, even fearful; God speaks…God speaks…Sometimes very loudly…We just need to remember how to recognize the language.

The desert has started to bloom. Lying in secret underneath parched red sand, miracles are taking place, without anyone even knowing. In this arid desert one expects to see Cactus, Yucca, Sage Brush, Goats Head, and dessert grasses, but delicate and fragrant flowers are unexpected. These are the miracles. The ones that remind us to never take for granted the wonder of life.

It is hot, but as they say, it’s a “dry heat”. But I think 98 degrees is hot… whether it is dry, or wet. And the no see-ums are blood sucking vampires. Last count I have 36 bites. I think they are one of the plagues let loose by Pandora. There aren’t many things I swat at; mosquitoes, fleas, and big biting flies.  Now no see-ums have made my bad list!

The spiders are out in force as are these smaller bugs that look a lot like scorpions without a curly tail. I catch them all and put them outside. Sometimes Kali Cat catches them and sometimes Yoda catches them before I have a chance to rescue them.

Last night there was fire in the Sky. Up over the ridge, even though the skies were clear, there was a long sheet of lightening that never moved but kept pulsating over and over for several hours. No rain…No clouds… No thunder… Just lightning.  It looked a bit like a giant fire fly.

Two lizards scale the house everyday and stare at me through the window. I finally got their message. Let go of that which is not serving you; like the tail that releases when caught by a predator. Detach, let go, adapt, dream on, master the art of perception. These are the gifts and the messages of lizard energy. Move into the next chapter of your life without the encumbrances of the old. This is a clear message. I see it. But, at times, it is easier to see the path than to walk it.

This morning I woke up to the smell of smoke. When I looked out the window there was a forest fire burning on the other side of the Pedneral. Smoke from a fire a couple of hours away, billowing in the canyon.

On a you tube video I saw a bird covered in oil, dying…I heard greedy men unwilling to take responsibility.

The things we say, the things we do, and the things we think, have long reaching arms like smoke on the wind or oil in the water. We may not think they do because for us they are a snapshot in time. But the vibrations that carry them along the waves of forever can alter life as we know it in a heartbeat. We must take care. We must move through the world with careful intention. We must understand that an action of ours may have an undesirable consequence for an innocent. And if it does, we must be willing to take the responsibility of that action. Whether it is a devastating oil spill in the Gulf, a fire started by a cigarette, a littered bottle broken on the side of the road where a child walks, pesticides and herbicides used arbitrarily, without reading labels, that damage people’s lives, kill birds, animals, beneficial insects, and contaminate ground water, an unspayed pet giving birth to unwanted animals that will starve and be wounded, a hateful word that devastates a fragile soul, an unthinking action that breaks a faithful heart.

There are many ways to die and they don’t all end in the completion of life.

This is a soap box for me. Often perception of one is not the perception of another and so truth is difficult to determine. Someone can believe one thing and some else can believe the opposite, and for them the truth is what they believe. But there is a difference between belief and knowledge, and I know what I know. I know that people who do damage are somehow damaged on the inside, themselves. I know that people, who believe they can poison their own little piece of the planet without damaging the whole, are deceiving themselves.  I know that ultimately, we will not progress or evolve until we understand radical forgiveness even for those who do the most damage. I struggle with this forgiveness, and so I struggle with evolution.

It is true, we do not inherit the world from our parents, we are safeguarding it for our children and their children. So one day they have the opportunity to walk through the desert and witness the miracle of a wild flower straining, against all odds, out of parched earth, towards the sun, victorious, if only for a day. For many, that is a lifetime.

My Mom…

My mom, Beryl Maude Graham, was born 87 years ago in Brighton, Sussex.

She was ill as a child and was in the hospital for several years. They did not expect her to live. However, her indomitable will was stronger than the illness, the excepted cruelty of the hospital nurses, and the inhumane rules regarding visitation from her family.

When she was 17 she weighed 82 lbs. She worked in a pet shop, drove a horse drawn bread wagon, and lifted as much weight as the men who worked with her.  She married a French Canadian soldier during World War 11. He was killed when his tank drove across a mine field. She had just given birth to a daughter; breech birth during a blackout bomb raid. She has many stories of bombs, powdered eggs, food rations, and hardship. Underneath all the stories is the pulse of courage and grace.

She packed up her new born baby, my oldest sister, and immigrated to French Canada, Quebec. The family of her young soldier husband didn’t want her. She didn’t speak their language and wasn’t accepted as their son’s bride. She was 20 years old. During a visit to New York she met my Dad. When they were married my Mom began the lifelong task of raising him. We, the three girls, were the by-products of Dad’s zest for life. Mom was enormously patient, kind, loving, and strong willed and still is. Dad thought he was the boss…We all knew the truth. Deep down, so did he.

We grew and we grew. My oldest sister is 12 years older than me. Mom had nine miscarriages and one tubal pregnancy. My egg came from her one good fallopian tube.

My middle sister is 5 years older than me. I am Mom’s youngest child, and maybe the biggest pain the ass. OK…My oldest sister was a bit of a pain in the ass as well. Middle sister was almost perfect. Almost…

I was a tad bit defiant. OK…Maybe I was a rebel; Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll. But sex is natural, rock and roll is a lifestyle, and drugs were experimental. I still have sex, still sing rock and roll, and left the drugs behind 35 years ago.

When we were young and experiencing growing pains and difficult moments, Mom would hold us and say “cheer up chicken, it’s only forever”. What is a moment of pain inside eternity?  If we suffered heartbreak and emotional aches she would tell us to “pull up our socks”, get busy, scrub the floors, do the dishes, purge the pain… It always worked; we always came out stronger.

My dad passed a couple of weeks before their 40th wedding anniversary. Mom was 65.

The definition of herself began to alter. She was now one half left of a whole. We, her daughters, were terrified she would leave us as well. Always our example of strength and courage, what would we do if she was gone? We missed our dad terribly, but Mom has always been the person who defined us, and from that definition each of us grew into the women we would become. The ones we are now.

In the past 10 years Mom has had surgery on the arteries in her legs from ankle to groin, fell and shattered her pelvis, fell and broke her hip. She has heart issues, blood pressure issues, gastro-intestinal issues, and eye problems, but she still works in her garden eight hours a day, sews and quilts, reads five books a week, and cooks her grown-up grandkids favorite food. Today when I called her to say Happy Mother’s Day, she asked if I was behaving myself. I answered “of course I am”. She said “Beverly, you are speaking to your mother”…

On this Mother’s Day, what I want you to know Mom, is that you have always been an example for me of courage, humor, audacity, and humility. Lately you have also been an example on how to get away with being a pain in the ass.  I might not make 87 so I am going to put this into practice now. Although you did it with quiet grace, you taught me how to be full of “piss and vinegar”. My husband and children have you to thank that I grew to be tolerant, compassionate, generous, strong-willed (another word for stubborn) and competent. They can thank Dad for the incorrigible, sneaky, part.

I love you Mom, thank you for my life.

“Cheer up chicken, it is only forever

Tomorrow is gonna be another day

I don’t want to hear you ever say never,

Cheer up Chicken, that’s what Mama would say.

Cheer up chicken that’s what Mama would say”

Sky left today…Back to Whidbey Island, Washington.  I miss her already. I am sitting in the room where she slept and feeling around for her energy… The sweetness of her…The strength of her…The will of her…The goodness and kindness of her… Her life force…I have to admit that there are tears traveling down my face and I am feeling a tad bit sorry for myself. Ok… I’m sobbing. Although this exile of mine is an active choice, the words to that 80’s song are running though my head; “alone again, naturally”… Boo Hoo Babe, Buck up!

As my eldest daughter; Sky and I, have traveled many roads together. She is strong and passionate, a bit tilted, a lot of fun, and loves the rocks. One day they will speak to her as they speak to me. Her dog, Buster, changed my mind and heart about Pit Bulls as a breed. He is the most amiable, jovial, and respectful individual I have ever had the privilege of sharing space with. He has really smelly farts, which makes him not perfect…Thank the stars! Not for smelly farts, for non-perfection.

The wind… Who knew that it could make sand feel like thousands of red hot needles poking wherever bare skin is exposed. Even though it was 75 degrees, long sleeves are not optional attire. Mandatory… Unless of course micro-derma-abrasion was on the list of things to do today…and yesterday…and the day before! Hmmm…Maybe I will go out and lift my face to the wind… might remove the lines that seem to be deepening in this parched, yet charged, atmosphere. Don’t get me wrong. I love this place. It is so beautiful, energetic, and spiritually alive.

The desert has started to green up…So many shades of green you would not have thought possible, contrasting against the red and white rock and deep blue sky. Takes my breath right away! Oh…no… That’s the wind… robbing me of breath as I walk Jack, face down, cheeks stinging, almost crawling…Jack is my anchor. Yoda is burrowed deep down into my shirt. Every now and then she pops her little tiny head out and then fixes me with the evil eye… I tried to dissuade her from joining us on this walk, but she has to have her own way! My perfect companion!

Easter…

For the past thirty years in Washington I have always either been the music or the minister for Easter… So I invited New Mexico into my home to celebrate the renewal and resurrection of life with me. A few people came. Some I knew…Some I know now…

I met a man, whom if I closed my eyes, and didn’t hear the depth of his voice, I would have sworn was me, myself. I wondered what my words were doing coming out of his mouth… Kind of creepy, but we were finishing or beginning each other’s sentences. I think that if conventional people were listening to us, they either would have rolled their eyes…or committed us…to…you know…WU WU land! That is where I am headed. New song… Goes something like this…

“I’m going to WU WU land; maybe I’ll see you there!” You gotta be willing to shed your skin…and to make your breath… a…prayer!” I can’t help it! I think in rhymes!

So that’s it, except someone stole my license today when I was shopping in Santa Fe at one of the several organic grocery stores. The store called me and said they found it in the trash in the women’s bathroom. Probably whoever took it found the 4’11”, 100 lbs, thing daunting… So tossed it…Lucky for me… AND a very drunk driver pulled out in front of me by the Abiquiu Lake. There is no cell service up here, to call TOO TOO DRUNK, so I followed safely about ¼ mile behind him, going 40 in a 65 zone. Sheesh! Drink and STAY PUT!

On Good Friday, Sky and I were driving into Santa Fe and all of a sudden came to a screeching halt. A fatality accident had happened 12 hours before and was still being investigated and cleared so the roads were backed up for miles. Three people lost their lives, and they were still laying, under white plastic, on the hi-way. They died under a billboard on the freeway that said “There is a fine line between your family and a drunk driver”. The driver of the car had 17 DUI’s. All the passengers of that car were killed, the people in the other cars he hit, survived.

It is not simple, living inside this skin. Our choices are not always rational, healthy, or unselfish. We damage ourselves and sometimes, many times, each other… We do not always consider the consequences…Sometimes, we don’t give a damn. Yet our actions are always ripples in a pond. We always affect the whole.

And in this time of resurrection and renewal…we rise again, we open our eyes, we breathe in the air, we thank God we’re alive… We have survived… We rise again…

And that is the beauty of it.  Life continues because of us… or…in spite of us…

It was 75 degrees today, and the wind blew 75 miles an hour. It was a bit like being in a Dyson vacuum. You don’t feel the heat when the wind is a cyclone and I did not realize I was getting sunburned as I dug in the red dirt. I finally had to abandon my work as I had a hard time remaining upright in the wind. However, the last chore I decided to do was to line the outside of the house and garage with Cayenne Pepper to keep out the mice and other beasties. As I was walking back towards the front door I thought to myself, “hmmm… I have sand in my eyes…” Ha! IT WASN’T SAND…And it was just getting started. It was CAYENNE PEPPER! I stood very still, blinded by the Cayenne, wondering what to do. The wind was blowing so loud that I didn’t think Sky would hear me if I called, but I started hollering for her and feeling my way closer to the door. She finally flung the door open and said “What have you done now, Mother!”…She escorted me to the bath room where I ran my face and eyes clear with cold water. Sheesh! You’d think it was my first time on the planet!

As the wind died down, Sky and I took Jack and Buster for a walk. Yoda of course rode in her sling across my chest. Sky and I walk with faces down scanning the ground for rocks… Yesterday we walked a dried river bed and found so many rocks that we left them to pick up on our return. After we carried them as far as we could I left Sky and hiked back up to the house to get the truck. Love that four wheel drive!

Today we determined to only collect small rocks. Sky has gone quite “ROCK MAD” I am afraid…I don’t know where she gets it. OK, OK! …I do know where she gets it but is has taken me 50 years to collect thousands of rocks. She is trying to catch up in a few short weeks. I keep telling her we can’t bring in the entire mountain, desert, State of New Mexico…As we were walking today she scooped up a large clear rock and asked “Mom, what’s this?” I cocked my head and gazed at her for a long moment. I did not want to make her feel stupid by telling her it was a rock…Sheesh! What did she think we had been collecting all these days? Filling our pockets, tying bundles in our coats, stashing in Yoda’s sling… jelly beans? Anyway, I finally said “Sky… that’s a rock”. I won’t repeat the caustic rejoinder she flung back at me…

I do love rocks and I have collected since I was 4 years old. My dad used to take us agate hunting when we were young and I have stones and mineral specimens from all over the world. At first I just loved them for how they looked and felt. But several years ago they started whispering their names in my head; that is how I began to learn their metaphysical qualities along with their chemical makeup. It could be because I became still enough to hear them. I used to not be able to be still. Actually, when I was very young, four, five, six, I knew how to be perfectly silent, perfectly still. I believed I could make myself invisible.

As I grew I became a bit like a whirling dervish; in constant movement, filling up all my spaces with motion, sound, and doing! Every moment became my only moment. And so I never rested, never took a vacation or a day off; barely slept. I was driven to do, learn, accomplish. I was a candle wick that was lighted from both ends. I think maybe I did this, always busy, in action, creating a clammering inside my head, so there wasn’t enough room or space for me to listen to God, the Devine, Source, Mother/Father, First Light/Vibration; whatever you name that which is always with us when we are still enough to acknowledge, to know, to be one with. And so I had to find a new discipline and I had to re-learn how to not do; just be. This is what I am learning now…perhaps I will embody peace that is at the center of a hurricane…

Here is the balancing act… Being still on the inside does not necessarily mean being still on the outside. Sometimes to be still on the inside we must release all the pent up energy/stress that our bodies are experiencing so our minds can open to the void and get rid of all the chatter.

It has taken years. I am not there yet, but I am no longer an embryo. My heart has formed and it beats steady and strong. I hope I get this being organic thing down before I move back to spirit…

Sometimes I look out the living room window and hear the theme to “The Good, Bad, and the Ugly” in my head…Doodle lu dle lu, la, la la….…

When I first started this blog it was to help myself muddle through what being inside a human body means for me…a chance to see on paper some of the things that come out of my mouth…At first I did not allow comments to my mental meanderings because a comment could pass judgment and I wanted the words simply to float on into the ether without being judged for them, or by them…After much deliberation with my posse, you know, the ones that live inside my head, I have decided to risk judgment, or ignore it, on the hopes that what anyone shares will too, float into the ether and help us collectively muddle through our own humanity. Be kind, be thought filled, stand inside your truth…That is my constant mantra…I don’t always get it right. When I don’t there is always a lesson; sometimes a bright light lesson, sometimes a “dark night of the soul” lesson.  There is always a lesson. And on either side of the lesson there is always some type of movement.  Sometimes it is like stepping out into the abyss, but sometimes it is like stepping into a warm and loving  embrace.

As Alex sings in the movie in Madagascar…“We’ve got to move it…We’ve got to move it, move it…” If we are not in motion, if our neurons aren’t firing, if our molecules aren’t spinning, we have stepped out of our own building.

Even inside our stillness, the place where we hear God Speak, there is movement that reminds us to breathe and to open; to feel joy and be grateful. Life renews and resurrects, and is constantly forgiving. We are forever spirits…We are forever love…

It was a beautiful day in our neighborhood…of one house.

The sun rose over the Pedernal at 6-ish and Yoda and Jack began barking at prairie dogs, wild cats, and hoo-doo’s, so there was no more sleep for me!

We ran out of water yesterday. The Reverse Osmosis system stopped working and so, we stink…Well Sky stinks… And if she wasn’t unhappy about being here before, she sure is now. Sky is a good sport, however, and even though I exasperate her, she thinks I am cute… Being 4’11” is at times, useful…

We worked in the garden today…OK… the red dirt, tumbleweeds, and sand…and we hiked into the big rocks. I fell twice and embedded rock into the palm of my hand and it had to be dug out with a needle. It hasn’t been a stellar week for me, what with smasholing my finger in the car door, falling down a cliff side, and running out of water, but the four-men rocks that my husband, Ken, told me would be impossible to move without a tractor, did roll after rocking them over and over and Sky and I moved most of them and created a Zen garden of rocks and red sand… Life is good! And then we die!!! I do not know what that is like, but I  am always up for checking into a new assignment!

Here is the thing about falling down a mountain…you can either cry because you are hurt, or laugh because you are hurt. I choose laughter… and dancing… if you are able to stand.

I love my husband Ken, almost insanely. Yep, that is the way he makes me feel sometimes…insane. Sometimes I dip my head and cock it just a little, with my brows furrowed, as I wonder if we even speak the same language, live on the same planet, are a similar species…OK, I know if your read my last blog you are saying “but she says we are all connected” “she says we are one with the universe”! Well that might be what I say…but what I feeeeel (four syllables) is that men…and women…are……..completely combatable, I mean compatible, and I LOVE MY HUSBAND…even if he talks and thinks and does things soooo…muuuch…sloooower…and so much more perfect than me and he drives me to distraction.

Mostly people say to me, “Ken is soooo wonderful, you are soooo lucky”. Does anyone ever say that about me to him? I… think…not… Well, Ken is wonderful, I am lucky, but…..whoops, I think I drifted off for a second. And I think the rice is burning.

That is the other thing. I eat really simply. Some organic brown rice, organic non fat plain Greek yogurt, an organic tomato, organic broccoli, and organic parmesan cheese, (yes there is an organic theme here), and I am good. Oh and a glass of organic, no added sulfite wine, Frey Vineyards, yum, yum…and I am really good! But Sky eats meat and stuff…Sugar and stuff…Stuff and stuff…Heavy sigh…

So, usually I have some kind of moral to the story, words of wisdomy kind of thing going on, but…today… I can only say that God has a sense of humor and that we are all a part of the cosmic hilarity…and that laughter cures almost every ailment…except for maybe the hiccoughs. It makes them worse!

The water tank will fill up again, I will be able to rinse the soap lather from my body…flush the toilet, drink water, (not from the toilet) and the sun will come out tomorrow, around 6ish, over the Pedernal…Jack and Yoda will bark at imagined screetures, and I will get up after only four hours sleep! Life is good!!! I’ll end it there!

I am back again. Did you miss me? My husband flew into Albuquerque and I picked him up. After not seeing him for 7 weeks; “oooo, what a lucky man he was”! (Emerson, Lake and Palmer)

We drove back to Washington and I just got back from being on the road for a couple of weeks traveling, performing and speaking. I had terrific audiences, beautiful weather, and smooches from my husband, animals and grand babies. It was a whirlwind tour of fun, tenderness and income taxes! But here I am again, sitting on the top of a red rock mountain in the high desert, still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.

I smash-O-lalad my thumb in the truck door today. I have to admit that I made a lot of noise. My whole hand was throbalating bright red, and my thumb turned purple black, (don’t try to look these words up… a new language…beverleese) like in a cartoon. Boo hoo! It is amazing that one small digit can cause so much discombobulation! The post mistress told me to take a needle and puncture the nail… I heated the needle, stuck it on my nail, and then put the needle back in the drawer. I wasn’t that brave.

The first few days I was back it was 70 degrees and my back burned because I gardened without my shirt. But today it was 30 degrees; it snowed horizontally, and iced, and the wind blew about 70 miles an hour. When I took Jack out for his walk around the mountain his weight was the only thing that kept me anchored. There was a raven flying in the wind and it was literally standing still with wings spread, in the sky. Snow was whipping past us but not landing because it was snowing sideways. And then, someone turned the switch off and the snow stopped, the sky cleared and the sun made steam rise from the red soil.

Sky, my oldest daughter, is here with me for a few weeks, with her dog, Buster. Buster is a great guest… and Sky is plotting her escape back to some kind of civilization but alas, she is my prisoner! Ok… She only feels like a prisoner. So I guess one person’s prison, is another person’s Shangri-La.

Living in New Mexico is a bit like being in a foreign country in the middle of America.

I have sensed that there is a language that flows underneath the conversations that sometimes requires a special interpretation. It is not a language of words. One must listen very carefully with more than the ears. I think this is how we should all, always, listen. I wonder why we are not taught this. We are taught to speak clearly, but not to listen with intent. Perhaps if we could develop proficiency at this, behaviors around self righteousness and power would be avoided or even eliminated. If we could really listen we could hear what lies behind the arrogance, hurt, anger, or bully behaviors. What if we, simply by listening, could heal anothers pain, change the misunderstandings, impart compassion and forgiveness, and end the violence, brutality, and war? What if we all opened to the ability to honor others opinions without needing to change them? It is the listener that has the power; the power to heal, the power to impart grace, and the power to choose to view without attachment, words that are delivered with emotion. I know that this might not be an easy assignment, but what if the ability to listen acutely was something we were taught from the get-go?  How would this alter our conversations?

The fierce conversations needed to address issues of leadership, social justice, spiritual awakening, and artistic and environmental preservation are still in their infancy. The work of fundamental societal transformation and education will require a dramatic change of heart and mind in this country. This is big work. It is a change from the “I” to the “we”. It begins here, with us. No matter if we are a local volunteer in a hospice, a budding artist, or an international Nobel Peace Prize winner. We are all connected to each other and to the intricate and delicate eco system of this planet. We choose separation for protection, but truly there is more safety in numbers, and in joining hands as we cross the busy road of life together.

This type of healing will require us to reach beyond our present paradigms, raise, with intent, our vibrations, and break our hearts…wide open…So the love will come tumbling out and the light will come shining in…

Pollyanna writes again! Titi rump titi rump titi rump rump rump!

The air is so clean and clear here you can feel it nourishing you as you breathe. I may become a breathairian… Sometime when I am walking it is so silent I wonder if I have stopped hearing, and then my stomach gurgles, or I hear myself swallow.

Jack, Yoda and I go for two walks a day and spend about three hours roaming and exploring the countryside. Well, Jack and I walk. Yoda rides in a sling on my chest.

When I first arrived here, in Youngsville, New Mexico,  I only had hats made out of fabric and felt; you know hats that made me look good, not hats that were designed for warmth. I called my Mom and asked her to make me some hats out of polar fleece. My Mom can make anything. So a few days later I received a package that had two Heidi Hats complete with braids, a cap, and two ear bands; all made out of warm fleece. My ears are toasty and I no longer lose my body heat from the top of my head.

Today while we were walking we saw a neighbor about 1/8 of a mile away from us walking with her dog. Jack immediately snapped to attention and started to haul me towards the dog and the woman. She saw us and I waved. She didn’t wave back and she started walking away from us instead of towards us to. “Hmmm”, I thought…I must look a little stranger than I believed myself to look; in my bright yellow, knee high, Earth Boots, thermal Fleece Heidi hat, thermal fleece gloves, Bomber Jacket, Black thermal cashmere tights and stylish Sun glasses. Could be she thought I was from another planet. Or maybe, what I think of as “Jack’s regal stance” might be considered frightening to someone who has never seen a wooly bear, masquerading as a dog. Jack was disappointed and we had a small battle of wills as he tried to haul me in one direction towards them and I tried to haul him in another, away from them. I had to explain to him about stalking. We had a New Mexican standoff.

Jack is very patient. He can out wait just about anything and anyone. His attention span is remarkable and he never, ever forgets, so we often have these tug of war moments until I march up to him, grab his halter and yank. And then he smiles with crazy eyes and says “oh, you want to go that way? Why didn’t you say so!” Jack is very congenial. It is good to be congenial when you are ginormous. Yoda on the other hand is 3 1/2 lbs of doggy attitude and fury. When other dogs come our way she starts screaming at them, “we are going to kick your asses!” and then she looks at Jack and says “Right?”… Jack is a lover not a fighter, unless he feels that I am threatened and then I think he would take on a Mountain Lion. I am not planning on putting that to the test though, so we make sure we are inside the house by the time total darkness falls. Yesterday I saw two sets of Mountain Lion tracks walking side by side; paw prints larger than Jacks…

There are thousands and thousands of acres of national forest lands that butt up against hundreds and hundreds of other acres. You can wander for days and never come across a paved road. I follow my feet because that is where the rocks are. I know I cannot bring them all into the house, but some just call to me! I also trust that Jack knows where he is going or at least where he has been. Yet, sometimes I look up and have that thrill of not knowing where I am. However, you know that I must find my way home because I am writing this.

I have been finding a lot of spiders in the house, under things, hanging from things, scurrying across the floor. I don’t mind that they are sharing my space as long as they are not spiders with an attitude. I usually capture them and put them outdoors, but sometimes I just let them stay where they are. If I feel one is questionable I ask them if they are, you know, deadly, but they always assure me that they are amiable and non-threatening.

This is the land of enchantment… if you don’t pay attention to the old cars and trailers heaped up outside other trailers. Also, recycling is a tad bit behind the times and litter is thrown out car windows so prisoners have something to pick up…

No… I am not being politically incorrect!  Read one of my earlier blogs. You will see that I was born politically correct. This stuff just is; the litter, the New Mexican road art, the non-recycling plan… but the beauty of the land and sky is so amazing that the other stuff fades into the background. I have been painting, writing new music, planting a garden, writing grants, and listening to the silence. Being here is like taking a step into a different dimension; I can still see reality, but whose reality is it?

And this is what I know… as I walk into “some-other-ness”, I must be cautious of not being arrogant, knowing-it-all, sure of the outcomes and being judgmental. I must honor what is, before I try to change it. I must breathe in this air; cleaner than anything I have ever breathed before, and let my body adjust to the strength of it. I must not see the spiders as enemies and I must pay attention to the messages of my strange dreams. I must only pick up the rocks that sing to me, otherwise I won’t be able to vacuum, and above all else I must do no harm to this fragile eco-system of plants, and rock, animals, and people. I must listen with my heart, and feel with my intuition. Maybe I should have been doing this all along? Since the first breath I ever took? I am glad I realized it before the last breath! Breathe in…Breathe out…Know that you are worthy. Know that you are love!

I saw a bumper sticker yesterday as I was driving to Santa Fe. It said, “I am waiting for  non-judgment day”. I am waiting for that as well. And more than that, I am working for it. But I know that I must first find the judgments that live deep inside my own self, examine them, analyze their origins, and transmute them into pure love.

A group of local women took me out to lunch to get to know a little about me. People in New Mexico are like people everywhere; curious, kind, interested, and interesting. There is an amazing assortment of multi talented artists, artisans, authors, organic growers, and professional people, who find solitude and beauty in the high desert. Like any place else, as a small community, everyone knows about everyone and there must be a certain amount of care taken to understand the culture before barging in full force. This is always true I think.

When I was younger; twenty’s, thirties, even forties, I would come at people with the full force of my highly charged personality. I often saw the “deer in the headlights look” film over the eyes of the chosen onslaughtee. (New word; it’s Beverlese, don’t try to look it up, not in the dictionary yet.) I am , however, a consummate student of humanity and I had a desire to learn and dissect not only the behaviors of others, but also my own behavior; my need to be exactly what I was presenting. This has taught me to become a balcony observer. It is a little like loving without attachment; observation without comment. Oh, the comments are inside me, but there is something that tells me they must stay put and not be released to the universe. Our words have enormous power. Our thoughts do as well.

I was born politically correct. When I was six years old I heard a group of kids making fun of a schoolmate. I was a shy and tiny child and I always tried to be inconspicuous. But it bothered me that these kids were picking on another and I remember saying, “That will hurt their feelings, it’s not nice”. Of course this put me in the line of fire and then I became a target for their unkindness. I did not have a lot of friends, which was OK because I was comfortable with my own company, inside my own skin.

I always felt what others felt. If there was sadness, I felt sad. If there was excitement, I felt excited. If there was anger, I felt angry. If someone was hurt, I felt the pain. I didn’t have the experience to separate what were my own feelings and what I was being bombarded with from the outside. This ability took me 40 years to learn. When I talked about these things as a child I was told I had a “good imagination”. So I stopped talking about it.

When I was twelve years old I was watching my favorite television show, Star Trek. The episode was about a woman named Jewel. She did not speak, but she felt what others felt. I watched this show with my heart pounding. Jewel was an Empath. It was then that I realized that I too, was an empath. I realized that it was not my “imagination” that made me feel others, but something that was really happening. I knew however that I still should not talk about it.

I do talk about it now, because the world does not change unless we take the hushed up secrets and bring them into the open air. Until others can look at them and acknowledge their own hushed up moments that are hidden away; those “don’t tell anyone” things. This is how we become unhealthy. We shove all of our imagined weirdness’s down deep thinking that we are the only ones that have them. I think it might be in our DNA to imagine ourselves the “only”, and we have to break through the “only” shell to discover that we are a part of the whole. If one of us is in pain, we all hurt. If one of us has no food, we all hunger. If one of us hates, we all suffer, if one of us loves with intention, we are all sacred.

Some of us are Doom and Gloom, some of us are Mary Sunshine, some of us are Never Happy, some of us are Perpetually Perplexed, some of us are Silly Susan’s, and some of us are Intuitive Irene’s; and all of us, all of us, are connected. All of us are worthy. But we are never, ever, an“only”  We are a part of a whole; sometimes the whole world, the whole town, the whole enchilada, the whole damn thing…

If we judge others, then we are judging ourselves. I am waiting for non-judgment day…