What Color is Your Love?

Put your arms about your Beloved and swing into a slow dance.

Rainbow

I walk to see the darkness
I walk to see the sun
I journey through the ages
return to fit my glove

I look inside and all I find is love

I walk to find the devil
I walk to find a god
wrestle with salvation
tap out to smell the smog

I look inside and all I find is love

now why would I
want more to find than love?

My love’s a Rainbow
many colors deep
a drunken fool
an angry beast
A light too bright for eyes
a black too thick to see
current too strong for courage
a slope to steep to ski

I look inside and all I find is love

Song and Lyrics by Amy Obenski

Another Cup Runneth Over

Nan-in, a Japanese master during the Meiji era (1868-1912), received a university professor who came to inquire about Zen.

Nan-in served tea. He poured his visitor’s cup full, and then kept on pouring.

The professor watched the overflow until he no longer could restrain himself.

“It is overfull. No more will go in!” He said.

“Like this cup,” Nan-in said, “you are full of your own opinions and speculations.

How can I show you Zen unless you first empty your cup?”

WORKSHOPS AND CLASSES WITH ELLEN BASS

Near Big Sur, Coast of California on Highway 1
Photo by Elizabeth Munroz

9TH ANNUAL WRITING AND KNOWING POETRY WORKSHOP
with Ellen Bass, Dorianne Laux, and Joseph Millar
August 4 - 9, 2013
Esalen Institute, Big Sur, CA

There is a world inside each of us that we know better than anything else, and a world outside of us that calls for our attention. Our subject matter is always right with us. The trick is to find out what we know, challenge what we know, own what we know, and then give it away in language. Mainly this will be a writing retreat—time to explore and create in a supportive community. Though we’ll focus on poetry, prose writers who want to enrich their language will find it a fertile environment. For more information, click here.

WRITING FOR OUR LIVES
September 28 - October 5, 2013
La Serrania, Mallorca, Spain
In this small, intimate workshop, you have the opportunity to create writing that is more vivid, more true, more complex and powerful than you've been able to do before. This will be my seventh year teaching at La Serrania and it's always a deep pleasure to return. La Serrania is remote, gorgeous, and inspiring. If you'd like a chance to sink deeply into your writing, enjoy delicious food, go to sleep in a simple, yet elegant room, wake to sheep bells, this is the place. For more information,click here. For information about La Serrania, visit www.laserrania.com. To register, contact La Serrania. If you have questions, you can email me.

How to Make Mistakes?

"We have all heard the forlorn refrain: "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time!" This phrase has come to stand for the rueful reflection of an idiot, a sign of stupidity, but in fact we should appreciate it as a pillar of wisdom. Any being, any agent, who can truly say: "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time!" is standing on the threshold of brilliance. We human beings pride ourselves on our intelligence, and one of its hallmarks is that we can remember our previous thinking and reflect on it – on how it seemed, on why it was tempting in the first place and then about what went wrong.

I know of no evidence to suggest that any other species on the planet can actually think this thought. If they could, they would be almost as smart as we are. So when you make a mistake, you should learn to take a deep breath, grit your teeth and then examine your own recollections of the mistake as ruthlessly and as dispassionately as you can manage. It's not easy. The natural human reaction to making a mistake is embarrassment and anger (we are never angrier than when we are angry at ourselves) and you have to work hard to overcome these emotional reactions.

Try to acquire the weird practice of savouring your mistakes, delighting in uncovering the strange quirks that led you astray. Then, once you have sucked out all the goodness to be gained from having made them, you can cheerfully set them behind you and go on to the next big opportunity. But that is not enough: you should actively seek out opportunities just so you can then recover from them."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cognitive scientist and philosopher Daniel Dennett is one of America's foremost thinkers. In this extract from his new book, Intuition Pumps and Other Tools for Thinking, he reveals some of the lessons life has taught him

Mellow Yellow is the New Uptown Brown!

Lemony Lemon Brownies

Ingredients:
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup flour
2 eggs, large
2 tbsps lemon zest
2 tbsps lemon juice
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon sea salt

For the tart lemon glaze:
4 tbsps lemon juice
8 tsps lemon zest
1 cup icing sugar

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Grease an 8×8 inch baking dish with butter and set aside.

3. Zest and juice two lemons and set aside.

4. In the bowl of an electric mixture fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the flour, sugar, salt, and softened butter until combined.

5. In a separate bowl, whisk together the eggs, lemon zest, and lemon juice until combined.

6. Pour it into the flour mixture and beat for 2 mins at medium speed until smooth and creamy.

7. Pour into baking dish and bake for 23-25 mins, should turn golden around the edges.

8. Allow to cool completely before glazing. Do not overbake, or the bars will dry.

9. Filter the powdered sugar and whisk with lemon zest and juice.

10. Spread the glaze over the brownies with a rubber spatula and let glaze set.

11. Cut into bars and serve.

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

I'm not sure of the original source for this recipe. It was posted on a friend's facebook. But, I love lemon! So, I'm sharing this.

To the Children of My Heart

An open letter to my "Heart Children"

Dear Ones,

I've adopted you over the years as my special Heart Child. (or maybe you adopted me) Perhaps it is because you have no mother, or have an estranged mother, or have had to develop your own "inner mother". Perhaps you have a perfectly wonderful Mom, and I'm happy for you because of that.

Perhaps you walked into my life alongside one of my own Birth-Given Children, and my heart was captured by you because you brought joy to my child. Perhaps you and I are still in touch even though the old ties with my son or daughter are gone. Or you both may have gone your own ways as your life paths diverged. Perhaps you are no longer in my life either. Whatever the reasons, it doesn't matter. You are still a child of my heart.

You've shared your life and loves with me. It pleases me when you have joy. My heart aches when you are discouraged. Sometimes you've turned to me for guidance. Sometimes you've given me guidance. Though we have this special friendship, it is not always expressed. It is understood. But, I sure do love it when you refer to me as your "other mother".

You know I love my Birth-Given Children more than the world itself. They are my heart and soul. But, Dear Ones, there is room in my heart for you, too. I'm sending you my best wishes and love today wherever you are.

Honoring Grief

We live in a society that fears death, and we're raised up to believe death is undesirable... "bad".

Imagine what it would be like to have grown up in a society that didn't fear death! There are such people who celebrate with joy. They honor the person who died. 

Since we've been brainwashed and have this ingrained negative viewpoint and emotions regarding death, choosing to change will be challenging, but it can be done. We can still grieve the loss of the one we love simply because we miss them.

My personal viewpoint is: 
Live life as though you will die tomorrow and all the bullshit falls away. 
You will know who and what's really meaningful to you. 
In the meantime, live life to the fullest extent of your being. 
Take the good things and be glad. 
Take the troublesome as challenges to overcome and grow character. 
Love yourself and extend that love to others who are able to accept it.
Honor your friends by remembering the good times with them.

WORKSHOPS AND CLASSES WITH ELLEN BASS

WORKSHOPS AND CLASSES WITH ELLEN BASS


TRUTH AND BEAUTY
May 28 - June 2, 2013
Taught by Dorianne Laux, Marie Howe, and Ellen Bass
Mabel Dodge Luhan House, Taos, NM

Marie Howe, Dorianne Laux, and Ellen Bass are poets who work to tell the truth in ways that show us the beauty of life, even in the midst of heartbreak and loss. If you want to encounter more truth in your poems, to express it in the most beautiful way possible, to craft poems that reflect the inextricable marriage of truth and beauty, love and death, the luminous and the ordinary, please join us for this special workshop. For more information about this workshop, visit the page here. To register, email Jen Petras at jpeachtree@yahoo.com.

Big Sur, California Highway 1 facing south near Bixby Bridge
photo by Elizabeth Munroz

9TH ANNUAL WRITING AND KNOWING POETRY WORKSHOP
with Ellen Bass, Dorianne Laux, and Joseph Millar
August 4 - 9, 2013
Esalen Institute, Big Sur, CA

There is a world inside each of us that we know better than anything else, and a world outside of us that calls for our attention. Our subject matter is always right with us. The trick is to find out what we know, challenge what we know, own what we know, and then give it away in language. Mainly this will be a writing retreat—time to explore and create in a supportive community. Though we’ll focus on poetry, prose writers who want to enrich their language will find it a fertile environment. For more information, click here.

WRITING FOR OUR LIVES
September 28 - October 5, 2013
La Serrania, Mallorca, Spain
In this small, intimate workshop, you have the opportunity to create writing that is more vivid, more true, more complex and powerful than you've been able to do before. This will be my seventh year teaching at La Serrania and it's always a deep pleasure to return. La Serrania is remote, gorgeous, and inspiring. If you'd like a chance to sink deeply into your writing, enjoy delicious food, go to sleep in a simple, yet elegant room, wake to sheep bells, this is the place. For more information,click here. For information about La Serrania, visit www.laserrania.com. To register, contact La Serrania. If you have questions, you can email me.

How to Starve a Gopher (part 2)

I'm hoping these plants will help protect my garden from a Gopher. I did a search for "what gophers wont eat", and these are some of the suggestions for my region, central coast California.

Escallonia is an evergreen shrub often used for hedging

Fuchsia is one of my favorites.

Grevillia is an evergreen flowering plant. I know little about it, but there are 350 species. I wouldn't have room for them all in my yard. And I bet if the gopher doesn't like them he/she wouldn't want them there!

I still have a long list of these trees and bushes that gophers are not supposed to like. It just occurred to me that posting a picture for each one is going to take me a long time. I still have another list of other kinds of plants that I want to post information about. So, I will make links out of the following names and you can click to go see them.

Check out what the gopher did to my garden!

Hydrangea

Lantana

Nandina

Oleander

Pomegranate

Ribes

Rosemary

Salvia
(native and nonnative)

How to Starve a Gopher

I've been thinking about how to get rid of my unwanted garden guest. What if I had plants that the gopher didn't like? What if he or she or they couldn't find any good munchies?

So, I did a search online for "what plants don't gophers like" and came up with an interesting list for my area of the country. Don't know if these plants are available elsewhere or in what other places they will grow.  The article I read had all their fancy names, so I've looked up their popular names and I've decided to post some pix of some of them here.

Arbutus unedo is also called Strawberry Tree. One of my neighbors has this in her garden. Sure is pretty.

Buddleja is also known as Butterfly Bush. This is one I've been planning on putting in my garden anyway, so the sooner the better!

I have a Callestemon in my back yard. Well, actually it's on the other side of the fence, in the neighbor's yard. But, it hangs over into my yard. It's commonly called Bottlebrush. The hummingbirds LOVE it!

Ceanothus, also known as California Lilac is not a Lilac at all. I found this interesting bit of information on them. "Gather a handful of "Blue Blossoms", add a few drops of water, and one has a fine soapy cleanser, a feature used by Native Americans who also bend the flexible stems for the circular frames of their basketry."

Cistus is also known by the common name of Rock Rose. I've seen this in gardens around here (Central Coast California). It makes a good ground cover without being invasive, from what I've observed.

Tomorrow, I will post some more pictures.

Please note these are not my photos, but are from links throughout the web.

Go Away Gopher!

 I have a gopher in my garden, or perhaps two or three. I don't know. I've never seen the little buggers, but there sure is plenty of evidence. On the one hand it's pretty nice to see that the soil in my garden that I was intending to loosen up has already had that job done.

Thank you Gopher. However, I didn't want the soil to be turned up over there, Dude!


Needless to say it's a love-hate relationship.

Last year I saw some evidence in my back yard. It didn't worry me as I have nothing growing back there, not even grass.

Well, a couple rose bushes and some trees, yes. But apparently gophers don't care for them. What else do gophers not care for? That's what I've got to figure out!

Apparently they LOVE what I've got growing in my front yard, but I can't quite determine what it is. I've cleared out all the weeds. (A really big job) and find that they like my rare white California poppies. I can't imagine how that's enough to keep them around. I've only got a few. I've got some other miscellaneous plants, but I can't tell if Gopher has been munching on them. He just seems to like making tunnels and mounds... everywhere.

I've been reading up on the pesky rodents and find that there's no guarantee you can get rid of them, unless you asphyxiate them with the exhaust fumes of your car or hire an exterminator. The first is illegal in most states. The second is quite expensive.


Of course, there is the trap and kill method. I had a friend come over and set the traps, but that Gopher is an escape artist!

Interestingly, a lot of articles say to not use your bare hands to touch or set the traps because gophers don't like the scent of humans. If that's the case, why don't I just roll around naked on my front garden and see if that gets rid of him?

Letter to a Dead Mother

Genevieve Deane 1953
Niagara Falls, NY

Dear Mom,

I keep having all these little mini conversations with you in my head as I go about my days. I noticed I've been having more and more of them lately. Little things, like "ooh... you would LOVE this new Vermont white cheddar cheese I found!" or "You would be telling me to go sit down and have a cup of tea now."

At first I wondered how it was after all this time that you are on my mind. Then it dawned on me. Your birthday, in a few more days, you would have been 92 years old this year.

Why your last five birthdays didn't bring you into my daily life, I don't know. But, here we are.

Today, I was standing at the kitchen sink,washing dishes,  looking out the window, remembering how you got to have your sink moved to the front window of your kitchen. You wanted it that way so you could look out into the yard and down the street on Cayuga Island "to keep an eye on the kids".

When was that? I think about 1948. I think. That house is still there, Mom. Did you know that? I bet you wouldn't like what they did to the place. I sure don't. It certainly lost it's charm.

It's funny how the most mundane act can bring on an obscure memory. I wonder if your mother ever stood at the sink and thought of her mother. I wonder if she got along with her mother. You always said how wonderful your mother was, and how well you got along but I never believed it.

You and I got along so poorly, it just didn't seem possible. It was always a mystery to me that mothers and daughters could be friends.  I've been mulling around thoughts about how difficult and painful it must have been for you.

Even after I came to an understanding that you did the very best you knew how in your parenting of me and stopped my blame game, I can understand now why that didn't pull down all the fences between us. The brick wall, yes, but not all the scars were healed. I'm so glad that at least you and Little Sis had such a good connection. Your love for each other was obvious.

I'm not saying you didn't love me. Nor am I saying I didn't love you. It's just clear to me that it was stunted and strained and unfulfilled. I do wish we could have healed that more than we did.

I think about your last years in the nursing home. I picture myself in the same situation. What is to prevent me from ending up there? Nothing I can think of, unless I experience sudden death. Slow deterioration seems to be the most evident cause of nursing home inevitability. Even the most well-meaning, loving kids can intend to see you through your last years in your own home. But, things change. Circumstances change. Stress toleration levels change. And truly, I look at my kids and think as you did... I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to take away a moment of their own chance to enjoy life, to be free to enjoy their later years without being weighted down by an aging incomprehensible parent.

There are things now that I didn't understand in the past, I wish I could tell you. I wish you could have the satisfaction of thinking "I told you so". I know you wouldn't say it out loud. But, I am well aware of the feeling I get when my daughter says something to me and I think, "Ah... there it is. She now knows how it feels. She now understands." She doesn't always acknowledge that she realizes I once went through it myself. Something like that kind of understanding could bind us together, give us that feeling of relief that there no longer is that one thing standing between us. But, that is not always going to happen. The fences are still up. Barbed wire fences, in fact. So sharp and prickly, still after all this time. I just throw up my hands. I no longer reach out and try to smooth it over, no longer try to make it better. Now I understand, Mom, why you did the same thing I am doing now. All that energy just for another stab to come later. Not worth it. Painful, yes. But, less painful than to continue to try to heal something that is scarred over so badly.

I know you know what I'm talking about. Would you want me to say, "I'm sorry" now that I understand some of what you went through with me? Would it have mattered? Or would there be that same hesitation I feel in not believing it will cure anything? Would it only be a band aid hiding the wound? When you pull the band aid away, it may be healed, but still the scar is evidence that the damage has been done. Nothing is erasable. It seems.

Am I being negative? Pragmatic, I think. I look at the facts. On the phone the other day, I was struck by how a subject that would never be considered inflammatory to anyone else was perceived as a possible threat. Being a mom, I don't want to inflict pain upon my child, so I agreed to no longer discuss it. And truly, that's okay. It was not important. I can talk about it with friends instead. The perception that I could be the cause of incredible turmoil and pain because of it makes me hesitate to speak, to say anything unless asked a direct question. And then I wonder what would be the "right answer". How can this not turn into another moment of pain indelibly burned into the heart of my child? So, I've agreed to the suggestions made now, and wonder if I follow through that her fears will come to fruition.

Is that how you felt, Mom? If I say, no.. let it go or yes... let's discuss it, it seems the results might be the same, a woman who is stressed out because she believes she's damned if she does and damned if she doesn't.

I remember one day, when I was going through the family photos you gave me there were many pictures of you and your friends smiling, having a good time. It dawned on me.... somebody LIKES her... lot's of somebodies. It seemed a mystery to me. There were people who liked my mom enough to go places with  her, make quilts with her, have lunch with her, laugh with her, play board games with her have long conversations with her. They were not threatened by what she might say or do. They accepted her for who she was. These were people who sent her loving birthday cards with comments praising her good qualities that I could not see in her. My mom was in reality a likeable, lovable person, non-threatening person. She was not the dangerous half-rabbit half-scorpion who might strike at any second.

Velva, Eva, Al and Gennie Borden

I'm sorry, Mom. I wish I could make it up to you. Of course, it's too late. Or is it? Can you hear my thoughts, feel my feelings, sense my final understanding and regret? Are you in a place where these things are all evident to you? Or does it even matter now that you are gone?

The most obviously thing I can think of is that the healing is one sided. I feel better because I can now relate to what you may have been feeling. I understand more of how it was for you. But, sadly, it is only like having half a blanket when you are cold. I need the other half a blanket. Then, we could sew the blanket back together and wrap our arms around each other with the blanket snuggled 'round.

From Mirror

Photo Art
by Elizabeth Munroz

Evade your eye.
Try to see as others do
what is desired or refused.
What went wrong.
Or right, then wrong.
Objectively, what hangs.
Pull yourself together.
Years are neither kind
nor cruel. You drag on.
The girl is gone.
Consider that it might be time to call in
a professional. Blood is fearless, runs
to meet a touch, indiscriminate, remembering
the first time it fell in love with the world, unaware
that now you are alone.

Karen Solie

From "Mirror"

WORKSHOPS AND CLASSES WITH ELLEN BASS

Big Sur Coastline, California Highway One facing north near Bixby Bridge
Photo by Elizabeth Munroz

THE WRITING LIFE
February 8 - 10, 2013
Esalen Institute, Big Sur, CA

This workshop will help keep the channels open. We will evade, elude, and distract the censors that silence or limit us. We'll approach our experience from new angles to find the story or poem within the events of our lives. We'll question the stories we think are true and experience the power of not-knowing and discovery. For more information, click here. To register, call Esalen at 831-667-3005.

TRUTH AND BEAUTY
May 28 - June 2, 2013
Taught by Dorianne Laux, Marie Howe, and Ellen Bass
Mabel Dodge Luhan House, Taos, NM

Marie Howe, Dorianne Laux, and Ellen Bass are poets who work to tell the truth in ways that show us the beauty of life, even in the midst of heartbreak and loss. If you want to encounter more truth in your poems, to express it in the most beautiful way possible, to craft poems that reflect the inextricable marriage of truth and beauty, love and death, the luminous and the ordinary, please join us for this special workshop. For more information about this workshop, visit the page here. To register, email Jen Petras at jpeachtree@yahoo.com.

9TH ANNUAL WRITING AND KNOWING POETRY WORKSHOP
with Ellen Bass, Dorianne Laux, and Joseph Millar
August 4 - 9, 2013
Esalen Institute, Big Sur, CA

There is a world inside each of us that we know better than anything else, and a world outside of us that calls for our attention. Our subject matter is always right with us. The trick is to find out what we know, challenge what we know, own what we know, and then give it away in language. Mainly this will be a writing retreat—time to explore and create in a supportive community. Though we’ll focus on poetry, prose writers who want to enrich their language will find it a fertile environment. For more information, click here.

WRITING FOR OUR LIVES
September 28 - October 5, 2013
La Serrania, Mallorca, Spain
In this small, intimate workshop, you have the opportunity to create writing that is more vivid, more true, more complex and powerful than you've been able to do before. This will be my seventh year teaching at La Serrania and it's always a deep pleasure to return. La Serrania is remote, gorgeous, and inspiring. If you'd like a chance to sink deeply into your writing, enjoy delicious food, go to sleep in a simple, yet elegant room, wake to sheep bells, this is the place. For more information,click here. For information about La Serrania, visit www.laserrania.com. To register, contact La Serrania. If you have questions, you can email Ellen.

Wait

"Oh, No!" She cried in the midst of her dream.

Oh No! awakened her, without the memory of why the foreboding and despondency was coming through her in waves like nausea.

The mirror told it all. The dark circles. The sleep tangled hair. The frown frozen on her face. The dried salt rimming her eyes. Telltale signs. Had it been a long dream? It had been bad?

What was it? Seeming to be her mother? Looking back against time? Regretting and understanding the missed opportunities for cherishing the joy? Instead dying into the darkness?

Perhaps.

The awakening to the sense of the glass is half full. Half full with a cesspool of dark liquid threatening to suck her into the burning acid of heartache. It tortures her soul. She clings to the side of the glass. The fragile glass, like herself, ready to crack under the weight of pressure.

The cup of tea, the piece of toast, the swallowing of pills. Nothing to detract from the sensations of the dream still enveloping her.

Hang on! Hang on! It will go away!

Wash a dish. Feed the cat. Pace back and forth. Clean a cupboard. Keep distracted. It is like a persistent oily, ugly debt collector his foot well placed in the door. Hold him back! But, he has gained entry, and now inside, is at the shoulder, leaning his face too close, breathing stale air.

No escape! Grab a banana. Turn on the TV. Make some pudding. Clean off the counter. Put a banana in the pudding. Add some walnuts. Yes. Food will put it off. It used to do that so well. Like an alcoholic with the relief of a drink. But, no. Food doesn't do it anymore.

The grip is in the stomach. The eyes are tight. The forehead crinkled in pain. The cheeks begging for release of tears. The prayers for comfort. But, it does not work. So, it is another bad ride.

All she can do is wait it out.