Soul Watcher

In that moment of disconnecting from the body, the clarity returned. We could be with each other, equally sharing the Knowing. Memorizing it to carry forward.

We designed the fulfillment of the our goal through many lifetimes to gain enlightenment, not just for ourselves but also others whether they remembered or not. And soon it would be time for us to join again, permanently, if we could just get you to come through this next time in connection with your remembering.

Then all to soon it was time for you to sleep.

So quickly the knowing gets murky. But, of course that is the way it is. We take our chances when the will is stronger than the seeker within. The will blocks direct communication. It has to make the choice to open to the seeker. I could only let you sleep and return to my Light studies until you were ready.

I remember when first we met this time around. You in the mist, curled like a little seedling, dreaming of this world, then letting it lift you until it fell away. Yes, even then a part of you was ready to leave. You began floating along in the warmth of the darkness.

I wanted to tell you then, how things would be, but I knew you would have to find out for yourself.

It was my job to protect you and guide you. And you were in no state to be approached with the Knowledge. I wished I could tell you. But you had to re-discover it for yourself.

Most every one has an idea that includes the sense of the protector, the messenger, the guardian angel. So many times you saw masculinity as divine. It was natural that was what you expect me to fulfill.

I was just your soul watcher as you had been mine. I took the form you needed... we needed... to join as one in the end.

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Note: Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

What Choice?

I wish
I could have told you
certain things.
Too many factors
blocked
our connection.


There are no regrets.
Simply...
it is how
it unfolded.

We are challenged
from all directions.
Each having
it's own cause
and effect;
it becomes
a matter of choice
which way we'll go,
where we are lead,
who we follow...
or not.

We take our path
with intention
fiercely burning
or not.

We stand aside
we watch
observing molecules
dewdrops on tulips
letting life happen
or not

I wish
I could have told you
what you needed to know
that you would survive
and become
someone else

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Digital art by Elizabeth Munroz

Amy Obenski: Words on a Page

Voice poetry, I call it. Only better. Amy's got a new video out. I'm enjoying the nuances.

End of the World?

"Just When the caterpillar thought her world had ended she turned into a butterfly."
~ Proverb

Vase Gazing

It was like having a well-trained dog whining at the door with a leash in his mouth insisting you take him out for relief. I felt so unsettled. I must do something! Anything... to finish unpacking from my move. So, I grabbed the box sitting nearby. It was full of fine glass vases in different colors.

Collecting beautiful glass vases just so that I can set them in a windowsill sans flowers has been a hobby of mine for many years. My mother collected them passed some on to me to start my own collection. I like to gaze at the colors when light shines through them. I find vase gazing soothing to my soul.

I didn't realize it at the time, but this collection created a significant bond between my ex-roommate and I. When I first moved into Helen’s home, I asked if I could line up my vases in her huge living room window. She didn’t mind, but was surprised that I had such a collection. She had never heard of such a thing, and thought it a little odd that I only liked to look at the bright colors and not put flowers in my vases.

As time passed, I added more to the collection until the sill was crammed tightly with them. Shortly before I was to move to my new apartment, we had a yard sale and I culled many from my collection to sell. 

I sat up the night before, pricing them, as I packed away the keepers, leaving the window bereft. It made quite an impact on both of us the next morning as we noticed how drab that corner of the room had become without the emanating rainbow of color. During the yard sale Helen gathered up my culled vases and insisted on buying them from me, then put them up in her window. "Where they belong." She said.

Saints and Sinners

The only difference between the saint and the sinner is that every saint has a past, and every sinner has a future

-- Oscar Wilde, "A Woman of No Importance"

Geneen Roth, Women Food and God

Oh, how I wish I could attend this event. Geneen Roth is going to be in Watsonville soon. I have a previous engagement from which I cannot excuse myself somewhere else. I met Geneen years ago and she inspired me so much.

I can't wait to get my hands on a copy of her new book. I'd like to understand my most unusual relationship to food. Due to medical problems I can barely eat enough to sustain proper nutrition, but it sure doesn't look that way. My body hangs on to every ounce I ever had. I would like to look at this as normal and maybe even spiritual as it looks like her book elucidates:

Women Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything

"The way you eat is inseparable from your core beliefs about being alive. No matter how sophisticated or wise or enlightened you believe you are, how you eat tells all. The world is on your plate. When you begin to understand what prompts you to use food as a way to numb or distract yourself, the process takes you deeper into realms of spirit and to the bright center of your own life. Rather than getting rid of or instantly changing your conflicted relationship with food, Women Food and God is about welcoming what is already here, and contacting the part of yourself that is already whole—divinity itself."

Read more from her site

Wanna Buy a Computer, Mister?

Geek Granny

sits in bed

with two laptops

installing anti-virus

and updating 30 files

from Windows

It's like staying

up all night

with colicky babies.

Disposophobia

Definition of Disposophobia:

"Compulsive hoarding (or pathological hoarding or disposophobia) is the excessive acquisition of possessions  (and failure to use or discard them), even if the items are worthless, hazardous, or unsanitary. Compulsive hoarding impairs mobility and interferes with basic activities..."

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Note: 

Digital Art by Elizabeth Munroz

Not Dying

I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear

of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days,

to allow my life to open me,

to make me less afraid,

more accessible,

to loosen my heart

until it becomes a wing,

a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk  my significance,

to live so that which came to me as seed

goes to the next as blossom,

and that which came to me as blossom,

goes on as fruit.

-----Dawna Markova

Music to My Ears.

I was surprised to find part of my manuscript on the doorstep today. I had asked a friend for a read and critique. I'm so encouraged to learn that my writing had passed inspection of this retired educator whose opinion I hold in high esteem.

I called to discuss with her the few sections she marked with comments. Interestingly, these were parts I had stumbled over, and had decided to let sit until the right words would come later. After all, this was a first draft of just a section of my new book to be. Perfect phrasing is not born from first thoughts and pen scratches or pecks at the keyboard no matter how inspired the author, I believe.

I was flattered to learn that while she was reading, she became absorbed enough she forgot she was supposed to read critically and instead was enjoying the read for what it was.

I look up to and admire this woman's expertise and it was a tremendous boost to my confidence and an inspiration to keep writing! Today was a warm fuzzy smile day.

Carousel

Spinning carousel returns the same old horse again
Ramble on and on,
the thoughts that fill my head
Sometimes I wake up
there's nothing there but emptiness
so I search myself for what there was to do

Flashing backward still
I think about my youthful dreams
Honest childhood, running dry of years
Sometimes I look back
it doesn't seem that it was me
So who was I then, who am I today?

Can you hear me now?

My thoughts are moving fast
can't seem to catch them in the draft
Floating upward like a kite that's left my grip
Flying higher toward the sky, so blue
I crane my neck
And try to follow as it drifts off into space...
  
lyrics © by Amy Obenski

Carousel was part of an episode on "Grey's Anatomy" in season four.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Note: published by permission from Amy Obenski

Twenty Miles from a Match

Can you imagine living a hundred years ago? Can you imagine taking your six kids to live in the desert, build your own house and live off the land?
 
That's exactly what author, Sarah Olds, experienced. Aside from being a quick read, her biography, Twenty Miles from a Match, which reads like a story, really appealed to me because of the subject. Homesteading in Nevada was something my great uncle and his wife had done at the turn of the last century.

I always wondered what life was like for them. It's a biographical book but reads like a story. It's not filled with dry facts and dates, but a wonderful memoir, well written.

Sarah, didn't mention my family members by name, but there is no doubt in my mind that they knew each other, as the author mentions businesses and locations where my family were present within that small population. My Great Uncle ran the railroad station and my great Auntie was a telegrapher. So, I was fascinated to have this back yard glimpse to that era.

It's amazing to realize how medical care was handled back then, often with home grown remedies. I couldn't have imagined advanced medical care being available including surgery for a tumor. But, there it was. Her son was sent by train to San Francisco for surgery, and sent back to the homestead in the middle of nowhere so mother could treat his infected wound.

How did she succeed without the proper treatment methods we know today, without proper equipment, disinfectant antibiotics? You'll have to read the book.

Past - Present - Future

.

.

It is said that if you want to know what you were doing in the past, look at your body now.

If you want to know what will happen in the future, look at what your mind is doing now.

~Dalai Lama

~~~~~~~~~~

Digital art created by Elizabeth Munroz

Forgetting to Remember

I forget where I put my glasses
I forget why I took them off.
I forget I have them on top of my head.
I forget they are right over my eyes!

I forget where I put my keys
when I'm holding them in my hand,
or stuck in the front door all night long
I lock myself out of my house or car.

To protect myself from forgetting,
I bought five sets of keys
Now there are only two.
I forget what happened to the rest.

I forget where I put important papers:
checkbooks, medical bills, tax receipts.
I forget how to balance my checkbook,
how to do math.
I used to work as a bookkeeper for a big corporation.
How is that?

I put books in the car to return to the library,
forget they are there...
for months
and pay fines I cannot afford.

I forget appointments with the doctor,
my friends, my lover.
So tired of explaining myself when I forget.
I tell little lies instead.
Traffic was bad, an emergency came up,
sorry I couldn't call to let you know.

I forget to look at my hand
For the reminders I have written on my skin.

From moment to moment I forget what day it is.
I look at my calendar first thing in the morning,
last thing at night, throughout the day
to put into my brain what day it is, what I have scheduled.
But, later I forget.

I don't realize until hours after the time passed me by,
Suddenly, something on the radio or TV reminds me
it’s Tuesday, not Friday. It’s 5 p.m. not three.
I run to look at my calendar,
the missed appointment is now going to cost me $50.
Another day I look at my calendar,
see my appointment is for 2 o'clock p.m.
Promptly forgetting, and instead show up at 11 a.m.
This really happened.
At least, I was ahead of time,

I forget where I put the phone just after using it,
only to discover that it is right beside me,
and I wonder how it got there.
I thought I looked there a moment ago.
It wasn't there. I’d swear.
Or was it?

I forget phone numbers.
Why can't I remember them?
I have to look them up in my little black book,
wherever that is!
I tell myself to always put it back in my purse.
Not there.
I look inside my purse over and over again,
not recognizing what is in front of me.

I thought I knew where I was going
from one room to the other.
I forget why, and return to where I was
in order to remember,
and start again, forgetting again.

I forget that I drew money out of my checking account,
a lot of money.
Then, I am shocked for bounced checks fines.

I forget I am cleaning a closet,
and go to do the dishes.
I forget  I am doing the dishes
and go to the desk to write myself a note.
I forget I am looking for a pen
and start cleaning out the drawer.
Then remember the  mess sitting by the closet
and begin there again.
Then, the pan that is sitting on the stove smokes
Setting off the smoke alarm.
When did I turn on the stove?

Elizabeth Munroz - February 07, 2001

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Note: That was then. This is now. I realize it was not as bad as I believed.