I sense much fear in you.
Fear is the path to the dark side.
Fear attracts the fearful.
Fear leads to anger.
Anger leads to hate.
Hate leads to suffering
~~~Yoda
Wednesday
Tuesday
A world without music would be half a world...
Listening to Ed Kihm play his 12 string guitar brings tears to my eyes and softens the hurting places in my heart. He has magic fingers that dance in unison with the strings. Or are the strings dancing for him because they come alive at his touch? That's it! He is a Music Magician! How else can I explain my appreciation? If I were his neighbor I would be eavesdropping on his practice sessions!
This Spanish classical piece was written by Isaac Albéniz i Pascua (1860-1909). It's name is Leyenda (Legend) and was originally created for piano. But, the way Ed Kihm plays it on his guitar, I can't help but think Albeniz would approve.
My laptop has lousy sound, so I use my ear phones. Listening to it in the piano form, I find that turning the volume up high gives an incredible visceral physiological effect, that any "raver" would enjoy. For me, Listening to the piano rendition produces the equivalent of a "Vulcan Mind Meld". You can download a free midi file and listen to the piano version of Leyenda here
Hypnotic....
Ecstatic...
Exciting...
*SIGH!*
"A world without music would be half a world."
Elizabeth Munroz
~~~~~~~~~
Photograph is a location in Pacific Grove, California
Monday
A Message for Mom
Dear Mom,
Happy Mothers Day! I love you very much and I am grateful to be your daughter…you are always there for me.
The other day…I was not in a good mood and you told me, while I was going to dance, that I look like a ballerina…It really made my day.., AND that I… I was your hero…. It brought tears to my eyes…. Love you… and you’re my hero!
From your loving daughter,
(Perform 4 Life)
~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: This letter to Mom is from my other grand daughter, twin of the "Adorkable" who wrote a poem about mothers which I posted the other day.
Happy Mothers Day! I love you very much and I am grateful to be your daughter…you are always there for me.
The other day…I was not in a good mood and you told me, while I was going to dance, that I look like a ballerina…It really made my day.., AND that I… I was your hero…. It brought tears to my eyes…. Love you… and you’re my hero!
From your loving daughter,
(Perform 4 Life)
~~~~~~~~~~~
Note: This letter to Mom is from my other grand daughter, twin of the "Adorkable" who wrote a poem about mothers which I posted the other day.
Sunday
To his wife on Mother's Day
A friend who has been following my blog was inspired by Heather's letter to her daughter, Charli and asked me to publish this:
Buttercup,
Friday, I brought you flowers. You were happy and put them in a vase and displayed them on the table. I forgot that you wanted something alive, something that would not die. So, I went to the garden shop and bought two rose bushes. Last night I went out and planted them. One is red and one is white. One represents the passion you have brought to my life. One is the pure love you have given our son. These will never die.
When you were about to give birth to our son, you cursed me up and down for getting you pregnant. I was confused. Hadn't we both planned on this? But, now we can laugh about it. You were in such pain. I couldn't believe how you could get through that. It was then I knew why women have the babies and not the men. You are so strong. I could never handle it. Not just the pain, but the changes your beautiful body went through.
You got up night after night and fed the baby while I selfishly slept. You were so tired in the daytime. Finally, I got the hint, bringing the baby to you. So glad I did. There is nothing more awe inspiring than to watch the mother of your child nursing him. I fell in love with you all over again. I couldn't help myself. Do you remember?
You've guided our son, watched over him, taught him how to be independent when I felt inadequate. I don't know how you managed when I was away. You held down the fort, took care of finances when things were tough. You dealt with insurance and doctors when our son was sick. Things I would be hard put to handle. I can't tell you how much that meant to me to see how competent you were handling all that. I'm sorry I never told you that when you had so much burden and felt insecure.
Now our son has grown into a man. It amazes me how you are with the grandkids, the patience you show them when you are not feeling energetic, and the love and encouragement you give them.
And when you went back to work and became a business woman, you made such progress moving up the ladder of success, I was, and still am so proud of you.
Those times when we disagreed and you became that fierce strong willed woman sometimes overwhelmed me, I admit. I didn't know how to handle it. And when you let me have my way, it's funny, but I cherish it all. I'm so glad we stayed together through those rocky times. It's been well worth growing wiser together through them.
I don't know how to say Happy Mother's Day in a way that has enough words to express how I feel, but I hope this will be okay. I've never been the romantic type you craved. I've always had a hard time putting my feelings into words. I wish I could have been better at it when you needed me to.
Remember when we first fell in love and I said I would shout it from the rooftops? You laughed at my cliche. Of course, I didn't do it. But, maybe this is a way. Here it is, not the rooftop, but publicly online for the world to see. I hope you know the admiration I have for the best mother and grandmother I know.
Love,
Your Macho Man
~~~~~~~~
Photo of baby was taken by the parents. Others, by me.
Buttercup,
Friday, I brought you flowers. You were happy and put them in a vase and displayed them on the table. I forgot that you wanted something alive, something that would not die. So, I went to the garden shop and bought two rose bushes. Last night I went out and planted them. One is red and one is white. One represents the passion you have brought to my life. One is the pure love you have given our son. These will never die.
You got up night after night and fed the baby while I selfishly slept. You were so tired in the daytime. Finally, I got the hint, bringing the baby to you. So glad I did. There is nothing more awe inspiring than to watch the mother of your child nursing him. I fell in love with you all over again. I couldn't help myself. Do you remember?
You've guided our son, watched over him, taught him how to be independent when I felt inadequate. I don't know how you managed when I was away. You held down the fort, took care of finances when things were tough. You dealt with insurance and doctors when our son was sick. Things I would be hard put to handle. I can't tell you how much that meant to me to see how competent you were handling all that. I'm sorry I never told you that when you had so much burden and felt insecure.
And when you went back to work and became a business woman, you made such progress moving up the ladder of success, I was, and still am so proud of you.
Those times when we disagreed and you became that fierce strong willed woman sometimes overwhelmed me, I admit. I didn't know how to handle it. And when you let me have my way, it's funny, but I cherish it all. I'm so glad we stayed together through those rocky times. It's been well worth growing wiser together through them.
Remember when we first fell in love and I said I would shout it from the rooftops? You laughed at my cliche. Of course, I didn't do it. But, maybe this is a way. Here it is, not the rooftop, but publicly online for the world to see. I hope you know the admiration I have for the best mother and grandmother I know.
Love,
Your Macho Man
~~~~~~~~
Photo of baby was taken by the parents. Others, by me.
Saturday
Written by My Grand Daughter
Mothers are like soldiers.
They are the underdog in the house.
Yet they are always there to protect you.
They are always watching
and making the right choices.
Like a soldier loves his country,
a mother loves her family.
<Adorkable>
~~~~~~~~~~
Please note: Photograph is of my sister's dog and is not a mother.
Friday
A Letter from Mommy
Dear Charli,
You are 8.
You do not get to have a teenage size attitude, yet.
You talk back, and you get time out because you are still a little girl.
♥ ,
Mom
~~~~~~
A letter my grand daughter-in-law, Heather Masley, wrote to my great grand-daughter, Charli, yesterday.
Photos taken by other family member.
Thursday
What's a Mother to do?
What's a mother to do? When her first born babe dies at birth... When her kid swallows bleach... or overdoses on aspirin? When her 9 year old son has an ulcer, her little girl goes down to the river and falls into the water?
In that last case, she takes a branch from the willow tree and whups her wet kid on the back of the legs all the way down the middle of the street... all the way home.
She is not to be blamed. She didn't know any better. It was the way she was raised, and disciplining a child was common practice back 60 years ago. People did not call social services for such an act. It was the way things were. She never thought twice about it. She had been so worried when her little one could not be found. She had been horrified when she discovered a boy bringing the wet child home explaining what happened. As she chased her kid with the willow switch the fear and terror chased her as well. And she sobbed as did her child.
What's a mother to do, when her kids steal apples from the farmer's orchard? Or flowers from the next door neighbor's garden or items from the five and dime store? She makes the child return the stolen goods, admit the crime in shame and apologize. That one really works well because of the humiliation factor. The lesson in honesty needs no willow whip.
What's a mother do do when her teen refuses to help out with family chores, when defiance, rolling of eyes, slamming of doors, swear words muttered intending to hurt are the behaviours she has to deal with? Mother is at her wits end and doesn't know what to do but question herself, question her mothering skills, wonder what when wrong, fear for her children that they will turn out all right.
What's a mother to do when her children inherit the same disease she has? At first she denies the possibility until it is so obvious it can no longer be ignored. She irrationally blames herself for passing this disease on to her children. She carries her guilt like a heavy sack of coal on her back, especially because they suffer pain and social stigma because of it. How could she have prevented this from happening? Not having any kids? There was no birth control back in those days. Though the children know she is not to blame, she carries that shame the whole of her life, no matter how much they reassure her.
What's a mother to do when her kids get married too young, have babies too young, divorce so quickly? What's a mother to do when she discovers that her hereditary condition is the cause of her grown up child's cancer. She privately cries and prays all the while believing God doesn't hear her. She sits in anguish day after day feeling helpless while her child lies there. Lot's of things were different back then. You didn't tell anyone about the "C" word. People thought it was contagious. You became isolated and alone without the support and love of your community. You most certainly did not question the decisions and behaviors of the doctors and nurses back then.
Oh, this is not one of those lovely overdone tributes to Mother's Day. Is it? What Hallmark card would sell such a message?
What can those children do when they grow up, but look back on their childhoods and understand the value through having children of their own and see just how challenging it is to raise a child. They can only look back in wonder and awe when they realize mother had so many children to take care of. How had she managed? How had she kept the house clean, the laundry done? How did she have energy to cook meals and welcome her husband home? How did she do all that and still work part-time labor intensive jobs over the years?
Please don't get me wrong. There's a whole lot I have left out. The good stuff and the really good stuff and the sublime stuff. But, that's for another day.
She said, "You will always be my children, no matter how old you are. When, I'm 80 and you're in your fifties, you will still be my children. I shall worry about you, pray for you, hope the best for you and love you forever."
In that last case, she takes a branch from the willow tree and whups her wet kid on the back of the legs all the way down the middle of the street... all the way home.
What's a mother to do, when her kids steal apples from the farmer's orchard? Or flowers from the next door neighbor's garden or items from the five and dime store? She makes the child return the stolen goods, admit the crime in shame and apologize. That one really works well because of the humiliation factor. The lesson in honesty needs no willow whip.
What's a mother to do when her children inherit the same disease she has? At first she denies the possibility until it is so obvious it can no longer be ignored. She irrationally blames herself for passing this disease on to her children. She carries her guilt like a heavy sack of coal on her back, especially because they suffer pain and social stigma because of it. How could she have prevented this from happening? Not having any kids? There was no birth control back in those days. Though the children know she is not to blame, she carries that shame the whole of her life, no matter how much they reassure her.
Oh, this is not one of those lovely overdone tributes to Mother's Day. Is it? What Hallmark card would sell such a message?
What can those children do when they grow up, but look back on their childhoods and understand the value through having children of their own and see just how challenging it is to raise a child. They can only look back in wonder and awe when they realize mother had so many children to take care of. How had she managed? How had she kept the house clean, the laundry done? How did she have energy to cook meals and welcome her husband home? How did she do all that and still work part-time labor intensive jobs over the years?
She said, "You will always be my children, no matter how old you are. When, I'm 80 and you're in your fifties, you will still be my children. I shall worry about you, pray for you, hope the best for you and love you forever."
Wednesday
A Memory of Mom
Shortly before Christmas my sister called to tell me, one of the counselors Mom had seen in therapy was walking down the hall of the nursing home. Suzan asked her if she was going in to see Mom. She said, no, it wasn't her normal appointment day. Suzan told her that Hospice had been called in and Mom was dying. So the counselor, turned around and came back.
Suzan roused Mom "Tammy is here to see you Mom."
Mom looked at Tammy with an odd look on her face, and said, "Oh, I feel butterfly..."
Thinking she meant her tummy was bothering her, Tammy asked, "Do you feel butterflies in your stomach?"
Mom replied, "No… I feel like... I AM a butterfly."
From that point on Mom said nothing further, nothing pronounceable. She could only respond with a mild attempt to vocalize with one syllable... “um”.
A day later my sister said, "The oddest thing happened today! Even though we have this cold weather, as I was entering the house, a little orange butterfly flew around me. Then a little yellow one, too, and they both fluttered away.
A few days later, Mom fluttered away, too.
~~~~~~
Note: Photo was taken the following July.
Tuesday
My Father's Mother
Mary Dean was proud of her sons. She had two little boys die to childhood illnesses that children recover from these days. But, she still had James, Oliver, and two-year-old Phillip. She was a fun loving, ambitious mother, often leaving the housework sit in order to enjoy life and teach her sons about the great wonderful, world beyond their small community of Kinzua, Pennsylvania. People marveled at her high energy and her ability to help and encourage others as well as raise her boys with integrity.
Springtime 1929, Mary wrote a letter to her friend Hazel who lived in Salamanca, NY about how much the rain had washed out the dirt roads, and how beautiful the heliotrope blooming. Mary also wasn’t feeling very good that spring. Suffering from her monthly cramps, she tried to ride the waves of pain, until it was realized that something more serious was happening.
Since the roads were impassable, Mary and her husband, Frank, took the train into Warren to get her to the hospital. Emergency surgery was performed first thing the following morning. They didn't do surgeries at night time back then. But, it was too late and too early. Too late, in that her appendix had already burst and infection had set in. Too early, in that Penicillin had not yet been invented. Jessie Mary Evans Deane died that day. I never met her, but I feel like she has been an ever constant presence in my life.
Monday
What Plans?
enjoying tea,
lolling in bed.
what plans?
fix car radio?
go for a coastal tour?
what to do?
hmm...
Sunday
My Personal Opinion
I think we are often lead, but do not always follow. Like a mother walking down the road with her child, there reaches a point where she has to let go and let the child walk without being clinging and fearful.
The child might get distracted by the pretty seashells along the way and hang back while mother stands aside and watches. She wants the child to follow, but also allows the child to explore the world, and then... oh no! the child has been scratched by a thorn! Why wasn't mother there to prevent it? But, she is watching and cares and wants the to learn what to value and what to be careful of. Sometimes we just have to learn the hard way to take care of ourselves, knowing that mother is not too far away.
I think that we have a path in life to take, like if you were to travel from Belgium to Spain. There are a lot of things to see on the way, a lot of interesting signs that say turn left at the corner and go down that road and you will see the amazing beach.
And so we go on those side roads, knowing we have a goal to reach, and maybe we have a flat tire or the car needs repair, but yes, we do gain something from our experience, and so ultimately we get back on the path. I think there are so many signs along the way where we are diverted and gain experiences both painful and enjoyable and it is all part of what we do to grow.
I think the tragedies in our lives are part of the path. Sometimes we stumble a lot on those rocky paths. I look at depression as my going down a steep path with rocks in the way. And so, all I can do is hang on and try to keep myself balanced and composed as best as possible while I am sliding down, sometimes falling down. And at the bottom, there is my old friend, my old enemy... Depression. It's like walking through mud, so it is difficult to get back on the path to the original goal. We could just curl up in the mud and die, or we can keep trudging through it until we can find a foot hold to start climbing up again. It's very hard to climb upward on a steep path, but it sure does strengthen us.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I took the first three photos at Capitola, California and the fourth one in my own backyard. Destiny is collecting seeds from the dried poppies.
The child might get distracted by the pretty seashells along the way and hang back while mother stands aside and watches. She wants the child to follow, but also allows the child to explore the world, and then... oh no! the child has been scratched by a thorn! Why wasn't mother there to prevent it? But, she is watching and cares and wants the to learn what to value and what to be careful of. Sometimes we just have to learn the hard way to take care of ourselves, knowing that mother is not too far away.
I think that we have a path in life to take, like if you were to travel from Belgium to Spain. There are a lot of things to see on the way, a lot of interesting signs that say turn left at the corner and go down that road and you will see the amazing beach.
And so we go on those side roads, knowing we have a goal to reach, and maybe we have a flat tire or the car needs repair, but yes, we do gain something from our experience, and so ultimately we get back on the path. I think there are so many signs along the way where we are diverted and gain experiences both painful and enjoyable and it is all part of what we do to grow.
I think the tragedies in our lives are part of the path. Sometimes we stumble a lot on those rocky paths. I look at depression as my going down a steep path with rocks in the way. And so, all I can do is hang on and try to keep myself balanced and composed as best as possible while I am sliding down, sometimes falling down. And at the bottom, there is my old friend, my old enemy... Depression. It's like walking through mud, so it is difficult to get back on the path to the original goal. We could just curl up in the mud and die, or we can keep trudging through it until we can find a foot hold to start climbing up again. It's very hard to climb upward on a steep path, but it sure does strengthen us.
~~~~~~~~~~~
I took the first three photos at Capitola, California and the fourth one in my own backyard. Destiny is collecting seeds from the dried poppies.
Fulfillment
Re-write
Life is so fleeting, and going through it without a goal was the way I lived. Then I died. Had a near death experience. It gave me pause, and made me somewhat unsettled straddling two worlds. I became a seeker, never finding the exact thing I was seeking, not finding complete answers.
But eleven years later when it happened again, it was the kick I needed to stop seeking and just live life with intent, focus on what I want and go after it.
I thought, I want to buy a house, and I did.
I want to have a baby, even though they said it was impossible, and I did.
I want to go to the Grand Canyon, travel the country from one end to the other, and I did.
I want to move to Santa Cruz, California, and I did.
I want to go back to college and take every class I can. I did that for 17 years.
I want to go be with that Light again. Not a good idea! It sent me back, and made me work harder without the guidance I had previously felt accompany me through life.
I want to learn how to keep faith and wait for that one thing I didn't find. A purpose. Took me a long time to find it.
The one thing I was wanting for so long, the one thing that didn't seem possible came true through the internet. I found others with the very same rare cancer I lived with for so many years. Now I help others get through those tough times. Ah! Peace! I've finally met my purpose in life.
There is nothing more I want.
Life is so fleeting, and going through it without a goal was the way I lived. Then I died. Had a near death experience. It gave me pause, and made me somewhat unsettled straddling two worlds. I became a seeker, never finding the exact thing I was seeking, not finding complete answers.
But eleven years later when it happened again, it was the kick I needed to stop seeking and just live life with intent, focus on what I want and go after it.
I thought, I want to buy a house, and I did.
I want to have a baby, even though they said it was impossible, and I did.
I want to go to the Grand Canyon, travel the country from one end to the other, and I did.
I want to move to Santa Cruz, California, and I did.
I want to go back to college and take every class I can. I did that for 17 years.
I want to go be with that Light again. Not a good idea! It sent me back, and made me work harder without the guidance I had previously felt accompany me through life.
I want to learn how to keep faith and wait for that one thing I didn't find. A purpose. Took me a long time to find it.
The one thing I was wanting for so long, the one thing that didn't seem possible came true through the internet. I found others with the very same rare cancer I lived with for so many years. Now I help others get through those tough times. Ah! Peace! I've finally met my purpose in life.
There is nothing more I want.
Calla Lilies in My Garden
I find white flowers very difficult to capture.
These are Calla Lilies
Taken February 17 this year.
Taken December 27 2002
Taken February 17 this year
Wednesday
Bearing Pain
writhing...
squirming...
teeth gritting...stabbing...pain
I can hardly bear it.
I think my pelvis slipped away from the sacroiliac joint a little bit.
Can't see the pain doc until next Thursday.
taking Dilaudid when I can't take it no more, then have to stay in bed
hate it!
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