You know what I mean… glass is fragile and shatters, stone is rigid and unbending…

When I was in my 20’s I purchased a brand new house that turned out to be formaldehyde toxic. After five years of chronic illness, a test on the house showed the toxicity. I was told to “get out”…  With my two young children in tow, I did get out, but the damage had already occurred to my immune system… Although in the early 80’s they did not understand, nor have the ability to tell me what had happened, in 2000, they did. An environmental specialist, medical doctor, discovered that my auto immune response from that five year exposure activated a killer T cell over production. Over time I had several other chemical exposures that re-enforced this army of killer T cells, who, when unable to find a true enemy, decides that one of my body parts is good practice in eradication and goes after a gland, an organ, a bone, an eye,…They do not discriminate and they are mindless killer’s.

One time my neighbor across the street on two acres, just for fun, got out his mondo sprayer, hooked it into his pond, and began spraying his property with a powerful herbicide, on a very windy day. He showed me in my organic garden! The over spray hit me while I was working outside. My first clue was not the odor of the herbicide, but the blood dripping out of my mouth from the tiny blisters that had formed there. By the time I got back into the house, stripped of my clothes and jumped into the shower, I had silver dollar size welts all over my body and couldn’t breathe. That time I ended up in the emergency room. My neighbor told my husband that I did not have the right to live where “normal” people lived. His ducks went into the pond and died from the poison…That neighbor did the best he could with the tools he had in his tool chest.

So we began looking for not so normal people, and we ended up on Whidbey Island, in Washington, where many chemically injured people end up and where mostly there is an ecological consciousness. This went well for 14 years on our five acre, green built Sanctuary until the property at the beginning of our private road was purchased by individuals that stripped the forest of its trees and put in a manicured and well sprayed environment. There is the use of something like round-up, (an herbicide which causes chemical castration) daily,  just in case a dandelion has the nerve to think about seeding there. At times the smell of pesticide is so severe that it is not possible to drive past their property with the windows rolled down. But, these neighbors do the best they can with the tools they have in their tool chest.

Our dream was to find a place that was safe from “normal” people and at the same time continue to be a part of the positive stuff in the universe. So after another four years of dodging this neighbors chemical bullets, we left our safe home of 17 years and made our exodus to New Mexico to 100 acres of pristine land and a house that we had been assured never had a pesticide or herbicide used anywhere in or around it….Oh, until, wait a minute, the day before we arrived with all of our life packed in the utility trailer, when the owner, who was storing their belongings in the garage, decided to place moth balls around the stuff to keep the mice away… Just moth balls right? They are not a pesticide, right?

This is straight from a USDA website…

Mothballs are made of white crystals of two very dangerous chemicals, para-dichlorobenzene (1,4-dichlorobenzene) and naphthalene. Both chemicals are solid at room temperature but produce very strong vapors. Mothballs are sold as flakes or pressed into cakes.

Both of these chemicals are fumigants and must be present in high concentration to be effective. Concentrations high enough to be effective for pest control is dangerous for anyone exposed to them.

Yes, dangerous for “anyone” but deadly to someone with an over production of Killer T cells. This unexpected exposure, without warning, without conversation, without thought, was like driving over a land mine booby trap. KA-PLOOEY, just like that…my life changed…again…Because keeping out a pest was more important than not damaging a life…So…from the moment of our arrival in New Mexico,  I have been ill. The dream, twisted…Weird illnesses that only the killer T’s can produce…All my lymph nodes swelling to the size of peach pits from my neck to my groin, causing excruciating pain…blood in my mouth… high speed tremors…painful, bleeding, rashes…liver malfunction…kidney malfunction..lung malfunction…acute vertigo…high blood pressure… My normal blood pressure is 90/60. Outside the house it is 90/60 inside the house it is 150/102…Rapid heartbeats, food that won’t digest because these Killer T’s now see the digestive tract as perhaps a “sneaky enemy”…and the list goes on… I kept trying to figure out if I was receiving other exposures, after all, if they didn’t consider moth balls a pesticide, what else might there be that I don’t know about? So besides the physical stuff, my paranoids have resurfaced as well. Is everything the enemy? What do I trust? I trusted the landlord, their word…

At any rate….part of me wanted to lash out and say “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?” They told us that they had asked the handy man if he thought the mothballs would be “harmful” to me, before they placed them down,  and he said “no” so on his expert opinion, they applied the pesticide. They did the best with the tools that they had in there tool box.

Another part of me did not want to see the landlord embarrassed, hurt, or humiliated because of a failing in my body…my inability to be “normal”. How messed up is that?  That part actually ruled and I took the hit, without complaint. Why did I stay…I don’t know why…I didn’t want to whine…I didn’t want to fail…I didn’t want to go backwards I guess…I didn’t want to be defeated…But eight months later, several trips back to Washington to be treated medically, rent paid to NOT live there, and I just no longer want to be ill…or be dismissed for not being “normal”. I have learned this lesson…

I don’t know why I am not “normal”…I do not know why I am the canary, flying enthusiastically down the poisoned mine shaft…I don’t know why I have had so many chemical exposures that have caused so much damage and caused my body to over respond…

I also am not sure how I have lived for the past 30 years without using one pesticide, other than diatomaceous earth or peppermint, or one herbicide, other than chili peppers or corn gluten as a pre-emergent, or one chemical, literally not one. Bi-O-Kleen soy spray instead of WD 40…Ecover Hydrogen peroxide bleach instead of deadly chlorine… Enzymes to clean with instead of chemicals…Green products are so readily available for any chore…

So why do we continue to poison the planet? Ignorance is not an excuse when the information is there for anyone who takes a moment to do the research… Are your kidneys failing, do you have throat cancer, bladder cancer, breast cancer? What type of environment do you live in? Do your carpets out gas formaldehyde and benzene? There are 120 neuro-toxic chemicals in a typical sample of carpet. Toxic chemicals can be found in the fiber bonding material, dyes, backing glues, fire retardants, latex binder, fungicides, and anti static and stain resistant treatments. A list of these include: formaldehyde, toluene, xylene, the potent carcinogen benzene. Have your rugs and furniture been dowsed with flame retardant and gassed with pesticides on the boat before they are shipped here? Do your babies crawl on these rugs and sleep in these beds? Does your child have asthma? Or leukemia? Have you created for yourself a toxic environment that you believe to be safe, because why would they use these things and sell this stuff if it wasn’t safe? Did you know that flame retardants are banned for use in the State of California?  Are our European neighbors more intelligent than us? Because they banned the use of many toxic chemicals 20 years ago, while we, still are poisoning ourselves and our own loved ones…Does that make sense? Even Canada, just a hop, skip, and jump away has banned the use of garden chemicals…The products we use are safe…”Right? Why would they be on the market if they weren’t safe…Like Teflon Pans…or hornet spray…round-up, or moth balls…

We are a country, maybe a world, that walks slowly towards the suicide we commit each day that we poison ourselves and our planet with products we haven’t researched and things we deem “safe” because someone making a buck assured us it would make us happier, more beautiful, with less work, less effort…

We hold our noses and jump into the vat that has been prepared for us by the almighty corporate dollar. Only sometimes, we are making that choice for another human being, who doesn’t want to jump, who doesn’t want to die…just yet, because of something, somebody else chose to do that caused irreparable harm…Choices made for our  grandchildren and their puppies.

I don’t know what the lesson is I am supposed to be learning from all this…yet……But I do know this, if I am responsible for damage to another, even unintentional damage, I make amends…I do not excuse myself… and I ask forgiveness. If I am not forgiven I work towards reparation…If I did not do these things then I would not be walking towards becoming fully human… It is not about you…your stuff… your lessons… I can’t control those…but I can control my response…

There is a song by Emerson. Lake and Powell, (after Palmer left the band) called Lay Down Your Guns…Ken and I danced to it as our first dance song at our wedding, 24 years ago. Maybe this will tell you how not normal we really are…

The lyrics are…

Lay down your guns I come in peace
No need to run my friend into the trees
We’ve been through this so much before

But still we get it wrong

Lay down your guns and stand up strong…

And though the cut is deep
We can heal it, trust me and keep
Your spirits high
It should be easy now that we’ve talked it over
And God knows we have to try

Maybe stone can bend, not be quite so rigid, maybe glass can become a bit more resilient, a little less fragile…or maybe we can be more careful not to shatter it, and maybe we could try to understand how hard surfaces became that way…

Maybe not standing up for myself and just moving farther out of the world was the thing that just allowed my son’s landlord to walk onto the property they are renting and spray a potent herbicide on the scotch broom in the pasture where my precious four year old grandson plays…where they thought he was “safe”…no cars, no strangers, no danger… Fuck That…

I laid down my guns a long time ago…Now I am picking up my pen…

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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.

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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.

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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”

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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…

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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…

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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…

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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!

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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!

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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!

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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…

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Theresa Ghandi died at home three weeks ago. She was surrounded by family and friends. It was hard work and a long time coming. Theresa was a social activist and was full of ideas and opinions and could research any subject and become an expert. She was incredibly articulate and a skilled writer. Many people thought she was a pain in the ass. As an experienced pain in the ass myself, I respected this quality in her. Politicians would see her coming and shudder. Theresa was a pit bull who understood that speaking out and doing the right thing was not always going to be popular. I admired her courage and her tenacity. Theresa showed up for her own life yet the world was not ready for her this time around.

As human beings we spend much of our time thinking about what is going to happen or thinking about what has happened… We are the only species on the planet that lives in the past or the future. While we are contemplating forwards and backwards, we forget to live right now. The moments we have fall away when we don’t choose to be present and use them.

I was a strange child… One day, when I was four years old my mom came upon me lying on the ground. I was very still. She bent to me and asked “Beverly, what are you doing”? My eyes were closed and without looking at her I replied, “I am listening to my heart drink my blood”. It is something I have always known, yet have not always practiced; when we are very still and silent we can hear things we might ordinarily miss.

Strange children usually grow into strange adults. (dictionary definition: strange:  unusual, extraordinary, or curious; odd). One time, an angry neighbor, told me that I did not have the right to live where “normal” people live. Being Chemically Injured when I was in my early 20’s changed my life irrevocably. Producing too many killer T cells, my body sees everything as the enemy, sometimes even its own organs, so even when I tell it to remember being “normal”, it defies me. Over the years I have developed techniques to navigate through the “normal” world so I can participate fully, retreating back to my safe space to detoxify my body. Theresa and I shared this as a disorder, as do many chemically compromised individuals. This anomaly in my body caused me to be acutely aware of this moment as the only moment I have. And so I show up for it.

Being human is a task. If we are human, we have signed up for it. We have made contracts and we have desired outcomes. None of this means that it is all predetermined, it means we choose. And because most of us are not practiced at gazing into the crystal ball, mostly we choose without the exploration of our other senses.

We surround ourselves with noise and chatter, with things that fall away. We are alone yet never alone. We are always connected to each other and the heart beat of this planet. We all share our genetics, DNA, and connection to that which is bigger than us. We are inside and outside at the same time. Our thoughts and our feelings flow from us in solid waves and connect in passing to those around us. We come through the womb individually. We exit individually. Yet it some way we all feel the births, the rebirths, the transitions. We just are not still enough to realize the experience.

Close your eyes…Lie still… Do you hear it? That is your heart…Drinking your blood…

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I did think that once I got to New Mexico in the high desert, I would have a deep desert experience, going inward, finding quiet and repose… Evolving into my next incarnation… OMMMMMM… But so far I find it is more relaxing driving through rush hour traffic in Seattle.  However the New Mexico sky is stunning, the rocks call to me, and God told me to come. I am patient…

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There is something sacred about being the first and only person to walk through a new snow fall. It is a meditation in itself. The snow is like a fine white powder and is clean, clean; quite a contrast to the red soil underneath. It is one of the things I love about this place; the red rocks and red soil. It is so silent here that you can hear the ants moving under the tremendous ant hills. The mounds are enormous and are the only thing showing through the snow besides the Juniper Cedars and Pinyon Pines because the ant colonies produce so much heat.

There was one big cat track by the front door, a Bobcat or Lynx. Just one. She must have come while it was still snowing and the rest of her tracks must have gotten covered; or maybe not. Maybe she is a shape changer…

The scrub jays made an appearance today as did someone’s three horses. One had a broken rope around his neck. They paid me know mind when I went out to talk to them. It is a constant parade of life.

I have been thinking about boundaries.  There are no boundaries for the wild life or domestic livestock here. They just wander around wherever they please. Boundaries can mean so many things. Sometimes they are something we do not cross. Sometimes they are something that should be eliminated, like the border boundary between the US and Mexico, and the US and Canada. Sometimes they are something we set up for ourselves to avoid controversy or discomfort. Sometimes they stop us from taking a risk. Sometimes they stop us from taking a stand. Sometimes they give us an excuse to allow cruelty. Sometimes they remind us to be observant, co-operative, and compassionate. Sometimes they stop us from invading another’s space; sometimes they create a chasm to wide to cross.

When I was twenty I worked in a bank in Vancouver, Washington. I was a teller. One day the bank manger came back from lunch. He had been drinking. He walked up behind me and grabbed my breasts. I didn’t know what to do. I was young and embarrassed. He was in a position of power and I had not yet grown into the bitch I would become. I mean, the self assured, confident, woman I am now… That day I learned something about boundaries. I determined I would never take from someone, something they didn’t freely offer.

We live in a confusing world. We are supposed to move beyond the confusion and evolve, yet even Jesus, who was the Christ, who was fully human, asked in confusion, “why have you forsaken me”… It is ok not to have the answers; to doubt, to feel at a loss, because on the other side of all that is hope, and generosity of spirit.

Maybe one of our most important lessons is learning when to cross a boundary and when to honor one.

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It was an event filled animal day.

The sun rose and the ravens landed on the roof just like they do every morning, thunk, and then a swoop of their heavy wings and they took flight over the canyon.

I heard cows this afternoon… New Mexico is a fence-out State. If you don’t want beasties wandering on your property you have to fence them out, otherwise you can wake up in the morning to a herd of cattle. So today I heard cows. I put on my boots and ran outside. I could hear them mooing plaintively down in the canyon. When I got to the edge of the cliff I realized that they were up on a ridge above the canyon. One, two, three, four different cow voices stuck somewhere in the snow. Then far off in the distance I heard an insistent truck horn, way up, maybe 5 miles away. I realized after a while that this belonged to the cattle men trying to give these four cows a noise to orient on to find their way back to the feeding ground. Everywhere you go on the roads there are cattle guards designed to stop the cattle from crossing. However, the cows aren’t stupid. They walk around the cattle guards and cross wherever they damn well feel like crossing. There are more cows in New Mexico than people.

Four elk passed in front of us about 20 feet away. They are as big as refrigerators. They paid no attention to us.

And then, as we were walking, Jack stopped all of a sudden, buried his head in 4 inches of snow and frantically started sniffing. He knew he had found something great. Well, he did, but as I watched, a very large Jack Rabbit appeared and crossed about two inches in front of Jacks face. He never saw the rabbit as it bounced away. He was too busy sniffing in the snow.

So these are my lessons:

The sun always rises.

Sometimes the path that is right in front of us can disappear, just like that!

Sometimes we are too busy moaning instead of listening for those who will show us the way.

Sometimes we are invisible to those who have bigger energy.

Sometimes we can’t see what is standing right in front of us, even if it jumps, because we simply won’t look up.

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Jack is a 170 lb Tibetan Mastiff. In Tibet these majestic dogs are flock guardians and patrol vast territory, thousands of acres. It is built into their genetics. Because the keeper of the flocks are usually women and children, these Mastiffs have a DNA distrust of stranger men. Jack and I go for a walk every morning and evening and before he can get busy he has to sniff around 5 acres…That warms him up, gets his elimination system primed and ready. Then something distracts him and we have to start all… over… again. It takes hours of exploration just to get Jack to pee.

The great thing about virgin snow is that it is a clean slate. Every story is written plainly. Today in the fresh snow while I was encouraging Jack to “get busy”,  he was distracted by some enticing odor and we found enormous animal tracks. While I was wondering if it might be a bear and if it was wise to continue, Jack was pulling me forward as he surged through the snow. What I saw were the big tracks and then next to them, cat tracks tracking the big tracks. Maybe a Bob Cat or Lynx. I wasn’t paying attention to Jack. If I had been I would have seen him scoop up his prize as he started to chew it… The delicacy, elkish poopish; otherwise known as elk dung. Yep, the cat was tracking an elk, Jack was tracking the cat who was tracking the elk. I was being hauled along…

Life is like that. Sometimes we just allow ourselves to be hauled along…

Jack started down a very steep part of the mountain… I put on the skids… I wasn’t in control exactly, but I wasn’t been hauled down the cliff face either. Jack turned and looked at me accusingly and then “got busy” at an impossible slant down the hill. Jack doesn’t lift his leg like smaller male dogs. I guess trying to balance on three legs at 170 lbs makes no sense to him. Jack is all about his own “highest good” He doesn’t obey. He cooperates…if he feels it is for his highest and best good. So Jack squatted and I dug the elk poop out of his mouth…

Sometimes our prizes are taken away from us and sometimes others have clearer vision on what might be for our highest and best then we do.  And mostly we are never, ever, in complete control.  Even if we feel like we are. Although the universe allows us our illusions. Even the most evolved, educated, put-together-well, articulate, savvy, cool, individual, has one small flaw and one tremendous grace: humanity. We are all made up of the same genetic code. We don’t eat Elk Poop, and we don’t try to balance on three legs to eliminate…unless we are under the influence of something…

Sometimes the tracks are clear and sometimes they have been camouflaged and crisscrossed. Sometimes our path is smooth and easy, sometimes it is a rough tumble down a hillside, and sometime we toss rocks in front of us, just to proove we can go over them… I don’t know why! But we all do it. Even if we do it in secret.

So if we can get rid of the secrets, if we can get over the shame, the embarrassment, the blame, the judgment, the prejudice, the need to be right, the fear of failure; if we can get over all that, then we can begin the journey upwards. We can evolve into a world of balance.

I think it is time to stop sniffing around for the perfect place, and begin to create that place. I think it is time to “get busy”…

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When I was 30 years old I asked my Mom what it felt like to get older older. She told me that sometimes she looked into the mirror and wondered who that “old bag” was looking back at her. I had smooth, almost flawless skin then…That was 25 years ago. My Mom is now 86, I am now 54. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who that old bag is looking back at me.

It isn’t easy, is it? One minute we are stumbling on brand new legs trying to figure out how to keep our balance and the next minute we are stumbling on elderly legs, still just trying to keep our balance.

Balance…That is what is all about. Give and re-give. Energy for energy.

The world is not in balance. Pachamama, Gaia, is trying to correct that. Either we change, or we will be tossed off. We are not the most important life form on this planet. No matter what we think. We are just a part of the whole.

But what if time bends? What if we move backwards and forwards at the same time.  What if time is exceedingly patient and is simply waiting for us to come back into balance?

Isn’t that where God lives? Is that what God is? Balance…

What if time does wait?

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The moon in New Mexico on a cold winters night, with 50 million stars so close you can reach out and touch them. The silence is absolute. The stillness broken only by the furtive walk of a Bobcat slinking over the snow. The house echos…The floors are tile, the walls; adobe. The floor is warm. The water is a precious commodity; not to be wasted.The nearest neighbor is a mile away. The driveway is two miles long. The Pedernal is right outside the window. The landscape is stark and stunning. Peace lives here..and for now, so do I. 1/26/10

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