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In times of old, The Furies protected Mother Right. If a mother (or any woman) was harmed, The Furies swooped down and took their vengeance. They were one of the last vestiges of a world that existed before the patriarchy. When we feel righteous anger, it is The Furies who are calling out to us to make what is wrong right again.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
More Hallows Eve
What a day! We went to Falling Creek again. We walked the trail yesterday, too. Frost on the ground. Ice on the ferns growing near the waterfalls. I was having trouble breathing while I was on the trail. I stopped and the forest or the trees or the wind or my self said, "Why are you always in such a hurry?" And I thought, "That's a good question." So I stopped hurrying. And my breathing got better.
Today it was even colder, but Mario and I walked slowly, just listening and feeling and breathing in the world. I saw gold, so we stepped off the trail. We stood on the soft ground and stayed silent for a while, seeing what we could learn about the area just using our senses. A marvey exercise. A grand life.
We asked the creek if we could have some water for ceremony. The light flickered on one of the overhanging trees. Only flicker is the wrong word. Or maybe the right one. It looked like Tinkerbell did in the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan. Ice on the creek made geometric art pieces in some places. I got the water.
Next we drove Linda's campsite. It seemed as though every golden and yellow big leafed maple leaf had fallen and now covered the ground, like a quilt of fallen stars. We went to that creek and—with permission—I dipped my container into the creek and I got more water.
We went home and the day got colder and windier. Paul and Barbara came over so they could see the kids in their costumes. (They don't get any trick or treaters where they live.) We ate soup and dal and rice in-between getting up and going to the door to dispense sweetness for the new year. We had gotten a bag of chocolates that were shaped liked eyes, fingers, ears, mouths; the older children really liked those. I would say, "Would you like a finger, ear, or eye?" They'd blink and then look at what was in my palm; delight would spread across their faces. (I'm full of cliches, tonight, aren't I? Ah well.) When the older kids came to the door and they didn't look dressed up, I asked, "So what are you?" Come on. Entertain me or else no candy for you.
Yesterday and today I was calling around to get people to come to a Halloween ceremony: outside! I called people in town, so no one would have to come far on this cold night. By about 2:30 p.m. on Halloween, thirteen people promised to come down to the park. (We have several parks, but we'll just call this the park.) As the night went on and got colder and windier, I started wondering about what I was asking people to do. I went out and talked to the Wind. That just made it windier. I decided just to trust and do it. Barbara went home to get warmer clothes. Mario and I bundled up, and then we put the accoutrements I needed for the ceremony. My idea of what to do during the ceremony changed by the second. The colder and windier it got the less time I thought we should spend outside. I took cream and chocolate for the faeries, the 13 shells from the Old Mermaid from Santa Fe, a tiny altar cloth woven by Sandra Ingerman, a bone with a dolphin carved on it given to me by my friend Peggy, ice, two bowls, the water from the two creeks, and 13 glass animals—along with drums and rattles, just in case people wanted to drum and rattle. And I brought extra blankets and gloves.
We drove the few blocks down to the park. The river was choppy with waves. White caps reflected the half moon that lit up everything. The trees danced in the cold. A wind sculpture whirled and spun in all directions. The wind was definitely with us tonight. I tried talking to it again. Several of the women did. But it was going to town! I hurried down to the shore of the Columbia River, moonlight my only guide. The waves were crashing ashore, but I took my little bucket and got some water. I said thank you and hurried back to Mario. We added that water to the jar with the creek water in it. I spilled the shells and could only find twelve.
Twelve of us showed up. One woman was sick, so she stayed home. (Thus the twelve shells?) I had asked one woman to bring the skull of an elk she had found in the woods. I had dreamed of an elk a few days ago. The elk became out thirteenth. I decided it was too cold and windy to do anything more elaborate than us standing in a circle, holding hands, creating energy, and speaking out. I put the altar into a bowl and set that in the center of the circle, along with the elk skull and two flashlights and the water. I talked about Halloween, talked about this time of the year when the veil between worlds was supposed to be thinnest, about how some people believed this was the night of the Wild Hunt when the faeries or spirits came out and gathered up any of the souls who had gotten lost after they died—and this was the time to ask them and any of our ancestors for help. So we asked. The wind swirled around us, shaking the moonlight-drenched trees, but we began to feel warmer as we made noise, as we imagined, as we talked to the dead, to the living. We stood in silence and listened to what the world had to say to us. I poured out the water in a spiral as we imagined letting go of disease, sadness, anxiety, obsession, war. And more. We ate an apple cut in thirteen pieces. We nourished ourselves, taking in joy and health, peace, transformation, protection. People said what needed to be said. Then we opened the circle. I gave them each one of the animals, as their protector. As everyone left I poured out the cream in a circle for the faeries. I unwrapped three pieces of chocolate and left them there, along with the thirteenth piece of apple. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Mario and I went home to our cozy warm house. No one had smashed our pumpkins. (Mario had carved bats on one, ghosts on another. I carved a Celtic triple spiral.) I started writing a new novel. The Blue Honey Clan. I think it's going to be a thirteen book series. Young adult. It begins when the three girls are 13 years old. On Halloween. We'll see how it goes.
Then finally sleep. And dreams.
Hope you had a hallowed night. Or a fun night. Or both.
Blessed be. And blessed sea. Blessed you and me.
Ta, darlinks!
Today it was even colder, but Mario and I walked slowly, just listening and feeling and breathing in the world. I saw gold, so we stepped off the trail. We stood on the soft ground and stayed silent for a while, seeing what we could learn about the area just using our senses. A marvey exercise. A grand life.
We asked the creek if we could have some water for ceremony. The light flickered on one of the overhanging trees. Only flicker is the wrong word. Or maybe the right one. It looked like Tinkerbell did in the Mary Martin version of Peter Pan. Ice on the creek made geometric art pieces in some places. I got the water.
Next we drove Linda's campsite. It seemed as though every golden and yellow big leafed maple leaf had fallen and now covered the ground, like a quilt of fallen stars. We went to that creek and—with permission—I dipped my container into the creek and I got more water.
We went home and the day got colder and windier. Paul and Barbara came over so they could see the kids in their costumes. (They don't get any trick or treaters where they live.) We ate soup and dal and rice in-between getting up and going to the door to dispense sweetness for the new year. We had gotten a bag of chocolates that were shaped liked eyes, fingers, ears, mouths; the older children really liked those. I would say, "Would you like a finger, ear, or eye?" They'd blink and then look at what was in my palm; delight would spread across their faces. (I'm full of cliches, tonight, aren't I? Ah well.) When the older kids came to the door and they didn't look dressed up, I asked, "So what are you?" Come on. Entertain me or else no candy for you.
Yesterday and today I was calling around to get people to come to a Halloween ceremony: outside! I called people in town, so no one would have to come far on this cold night. By about 2:30 p.m. on Halloween, thirteen people promised to come down to the park. (We have several parks, but we'll just call this the park.) As the night went on and got colder and windier, I started wondering about what I was asking people to do. I went out and talked to the Wind. That just made it windier. I decided just to trust and do it. Barbara went home to get warmer clothes. Mario and I bundled up, and then we put the accoutrements I needed for the ceremony. My idea of what to do during the ceremony changed by the second. The colder and windier it got the less time I thought we should spend outside. I took cream and chocolate for the faeries, the 13 shells from the Old Mermaid from Santa Fe, a tiny altar cloth woven by Sandra Ingerman, a bone with a dolphin carved on it given to me by my friend Peggy, ice, two bowls, the water from the two creeks, and 13 glass animals—along with drums and rattles, just in case people wanted to drum and rattle. And I brought extra blankets and gloves.
We drove the few blocks down to the park. The river was choppy with waves. White caps reflected the half moon that lit up everything. The trees danced in the cold. A wind sculpture whirled and spun in all directions. The wind was definitely with us tonight. I tried talking to it again. Several of the women did. But it was going to town! I hurried down to the shore of the Columbia River, moonlight my only guide. The waves were crashing ashore, but I took my little bucket and got some water. I said thank you and hurried back to Mario. We added that water to the jar with the creek water in it. I spilled the shells and could only find twelve.
Twelve of us showed up. One woman was sick, so she stayed home. (Thus the twelve shells?) I had asked one woman to bring the skull of an elk she had found in the woods. I had dreamed of an elk a few days ago. The elk became out thirteenth. I decided it was too cold and windy to do anything more elaborate than us standing in a circle, holding hands, creating energy, and speaking out. I put the altar into a bowl and set that in the center of the circle, along with the elk skull and two flashlights and the water. I talked about Halloween, talked about this time of the year when the veil between worlds was supposed to be thinnest, about how some people believed this was the night of the Wild Hunt when the faeries or spirits came out and gathered up any of the souls who had gotten lost after they died—and this was the time to ask them and any of our ancestors for help. So we asked. The wind swirled around us, shaking the moonlight-drenched trees, but we began to feel warmer as we made noise, as we imagined, as we talked to the dead, to the living. We stood in silence and listened to what the world had to say to us. I poured out the water in a spiral as we imagined letting go of disease, sadness, anxiety, obsession, war. And more. We ate an apple cut in thirteen pieces. We nourished ourselves, taking in joy and health, peace, transformation, protection. People said what needed to be said. Then we opened the circle. I gave them each one of the animals, as their protector. As everyone left I poured out the cream in a circle for the faeries. I unwrapped three pieces of chocolate and left them there, along with the thirteenth piece of apple. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
Mario and I went home to our cozy warm house. No one had smashed our pumpkins. (Mario had carved bats on one, ghosts on another. I carved a Celtic triple spiral.) I started writing a new novel. The Blue Honey Clan. I think it's going to be a thirteen book series. Young adult. It begins when the three girls are 13 years old. On Halloween. We'll see how it goes.
Then finally sleep. And dreams.
Hope you had a hallowed night. Or a fun night. Or both.
Blessed be. And blessed sea. Blessed you and me.
Ta, darlinks!
Labels: Falling Creek, Halloween, Linda, nature
1 comments
Honoring the Dead
So many deaths this year. Why does it seem more than usual? Two of my closest friends died, David and Linda. Another longtime friend, Sheila, also died. Two of these deaths were sudden. All came to people who were too young to die. But when is anyone "old" enough to die? Many of the diseases which are killing people are not natural—at least not to my way of thinking. Something is amiss.
I often hear people say that's what's wrong with this planet is us. I've probably said it myself. We are unnatural, so the planet is trying to get rid of us: thus all the diseases. She's trying to throw us off, get rid of us like we try to get rid of viruses or harmful bacteria. I've thought about this, and I don't think it's true. We are part of nature. We are natural. Human beings can go wrong; we've done enormous harm to the biosphere and to ourselves. But I don't believe the planet is trying to get rid of us: it just feels that way. What the Earth is trying to do is get herself back in balance, or back in health. Her waters are too hot, so she tries to cool off with hurricanes. Etcetera.
If we want to survive this return to health, we've got to be a part of it. We've got to grab those surfboards and ride the waves, baby! What can each of us do to heal the planet, to take care of our families and our communities? First, we can embody that lovely adage: be the change you want to see in the world. Be the change you want to hear, taste, smell, feel, love in the world.
You can do it!
We can do it!
(Yes, I've become a cheerleader.)
Tonight, thirteen of us are going out into the cold dark, under a half moon, to ask the Ancestors for help. Our community has been devastated this year by loss. It seems extreme. It's been extreme for the Iraqi people. It's been extreme for the 3,000 American soldiers killed and for the more than 20,000 wounded. We will sing and dance and shiver and ask for what we want. And we will understand that we are cocreators of our lives and this world. We don't have control over everything; we don't have control over much. But we will do what we can.
And we will laugh and dance and love and create beauty while we do it.
It's the Old Mermaid way.
Much, much love!
P.S. In Church of the Old Mermaids, Myla and Lily have their own rituals. Myla gives 5-year-old Lily a big kiss on her cheek every time she sees her. Lily wipes the kiss away, and Myla says, "Hah! You don't want my kiss? Well, if you decide you want it back, you can just put your hand up to your cheek." Of course, Lily immediately puts both hands on her cheeks and grins. So I send Myla's kisses out to you all. Do with them what you will. 1 comments
I often hear people say that's what's wrong with this planet is us. I've probably said it myself. We are unnatural, so the planet is trying to get rid of us: thus all the diseases. She's trying to throw us off, get rid of us like we try to get rid of viruses or harmful bacteria. I've thought about this, and I don't think it's true. We are part of nature. We are natural. Human beings can go wrong; we've done enormous harm to the biosphere and to ourselves. But I don't believe the planet is trying to get rid of us: it just feels that way. What the Earth is trying to do is get herself back in balance, or back in health. Her waters are too hot, so she tries to cool off with hurricanes. Etcetera.
If we want to survive this return to health, we've got to be a part of it. We've got to grab those surfboards and ride the waves, baby! What can each of us do to heal the planet, to take care of our families and our communities? First, we can embody that lovely adage: be the change you want to see in the world. Be the change you want to hear, taste, smell, feel, love in the world.
You can do it!
We can do it!
(Yes, I've become a cheerleader.)
Tonight, thirteen of us are going out into the cold dark, under a half moon, to ask the Ancestors for help. Our community has been devastated this year by loss. It seems extreme. It's been extreme for the Iraqi people. It's been extreme for the 3,000 American soldiers killed and for the more than 20,000 wounded. We will sing and dance and shiver and ask for what we want. And we will understand that we are cocreators of our lives and this world. We don't have control over everything; we don't have control over much. But we will do what we can.
And we will laugh and dance and love and create beauty while we do it.
It's the Old Mermaid way.
Much, much love!
P.S. In Church of the Old Mermaids, Myla and Lily have their own rituals. Myla gives 5-year-old Lily a big kiss on her cheek every time she sees her. Lily wipes the kiss away, and Myla says, "Hah! You don't want my kiss? Well, if you decide you want it back, you can just put your hand up to your cheek." Of course, Lily immediately puts both hands on her cheeks and grins. So I send Myla's kisses out to you all. Do with them what you will. 1 comments
Happy Hallows!
I was going to write a long Halloween post, but I've been having so much trouble with blogger lately. (Lots of other people are having trouble, too.) So maybe later...
In the meanwhile, have a great Halloween. We have an "emergency" ceremony tonight. I'll tell you about it later.
Ta! 0 comments
In the meanwhile, have a great Halloween. We have an "emergency" ceremony tonight. I'll tell you about it later.
Ta! 0 comments
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Letter Home from Soldier
I'm assuming Time did its research and this letter is real. The writer is quite evocative. I wish he(?) was more specific, but then apparently he can't be. It's interesting what he says about VIPs and Bill O'UnReliable.
0 comments
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Wish I'd Seen the Whole Thing
Letterman vs. O'Reilly. Round Two. It's more interesting to see the vid than read the transcript. It seems like Mr. Letterman doesn't like O'Reilly at all. Of course, if you watch it you have to actually watch and listen to O'Reilly. Letterman ain't Keith Olbermann or Jon Stewart, but he's got a bigger audience than any of them, including O'Reilly, so it's good to see someone taking O'Reilly to task.
0 comments
Friday, October 27, 2006
Shhhhhh
I'm completely absolutely resting today. No work. No computer time. Nothing. So don't tell anyone I'm on the computer or that I spent part of the morning doing library work. We have an issue at work that is concerning me about patron privacy so that has been occupying my brain. I am a staunch defender of patron privacy and Intellectual Freedoms, and I find it disheartening when these issues no longer become important to the institution, and librarians and library workers are afraid to speak out because they are afraid of losing their jobs. (I'm speaking generally here, not specifically about any library.) When library administrations and library boards become regime-like, when dissent is no longer tolerated, we are all in big trouble. Oh wait. We are all in big trouble.
I was originally hired as a branch librarian nineteen years ago. My library district was known throughout the United States for its patron service and its stance in Intellectual Freedom issues. That's why I came to work here. I was hired precisely because of who I am, because I spoke up, because I asked difficult questions, and because I was a good manager and I was great with the public. I loved my job. I became sick when a new carpet and new linoleum were put in my branch. I had to quit being a branch manager, and I continued my work as a selector, from home. The rest, as Sister Faye Mermaid would say, is...mystery.
I love libraries. I love the potential of libraries. I love that libraries can change the lives of individuals for the good. Just because the institutions and the people who run them and work there don't always live up to these high ideals doesn't mean I don't still love 'em.
But I'm not supposed to be on the computer...
I am making soup even as we speak. I had soooo many dreams last night. I hadn't slept the night before, or much the night before that, so last night I said I was going to bed at 10:00 p.m., which is when my naturopath says is the best time to go to bed, so I did that. (Okay, 10:15.) And every time I woke up in the night I made myself go back to sleep. In one dream a petulant child was really, really hungry and she just wanted to eat sheets of nori. I told her I would make her a soup: with mushrooms and onion and lots of sea vegetables. So guess what kind of soup I'm making for that petulant child in waking time?
(Beware: I'm about to do the equivalent of showing you pictures from my vacation...oh wait, I already do do that.) I also dreamed I lived in a frozen wasteland. Everything was frozen, my bed, my walls, my feelings, the people. I decided to leave this wasteland and go into a more watery juicy world. (I'm not kidding.) But someone tried to shoot me, so I was running for my life.
In another, I lived in this big trailer or mobile home. Huge! Originally six people were going to come with me, and then I allowed for another six. I went wandering around this town or fair or something and when I came back, the house/trailer had been taken over by all these obnoxious people. And they were partying and making a mess, and they wouldn't leave no matter what I did. I went back to the fair and called all the people from my home (via a loudspeaker) to come and meet me at this place. They came and I talked and said only the original people could come back. The invaders weren't very nice, and they refused to give up the house/trailer. We got on a bus to return to the house/trailer, with me resigned just to live with them and the situation. I got on first and stood near the driver. Then the first six got on near me, then the second six, then the invaders in back. The bus started forward and everyone was quiet.
Then I said, "Look, this is like a microcosm for what's happening on the planet. If we all go back there and live together the sewage will back up, the air will be foul. It won't be good for any of us." They didn't care! So I told the bus driver to stop. I said, "Well, I'm not going to be part of it." I stepped off the bus. I didn't look back. I heard people behind me so I thought my first six were following. I laid down on a big glorious rock to go to sleep. It was so nice. Two women did follow me, but they weren't from the bus. I didn't know them. I held them like they were my daughters. A policeman came to roust us, informing me that the two women were con artists.
I can't believe I told you the whole thing. Ah well. I'll be ashamed of using my blogosphere space up with this later. Right now I'm gettin' off the bus.
May You Dream in Beauty!
I was originally hired as a branch librarian nineteen years ago. My library district was known throughout the United States for its patron service and its stance in Intellectual Freedom issues. That's why I came to work here. I was hired precisely because of who I am, because I spoke up, because I asked difficult questions, and because I was a good manager and I was great with the public. I loved my job. I became sick when a new carpet and new linoleum were put in my branch. I had to quit being a branch manager, and I continued my work as a selector, from home. The rest, as Sister Faye Mermaid would say, is...mystery.
I love libraries. I love the potential of libraries. I love that libraries can change the lives of individuals for the good. Just because the institutions and the people who run them and work there don't always live up to these high ideals doesn't mean I don't still love 'em.
But I'm not supposed to be on the computer...
I am making soup even as we speak. I had soooo many dreams last night. I hadn't slept the night before, or much the night before that, so last night I said I was going to bed at 10:00 p.m., which is when my naturopath says is the best time to go to bed, so I did that. (Okay, 10:15.) And every time I woke up in the night I made myself go back to sleep. In one dream a petulant child was really, really hungry and she just wanted to eat sheets of nori. I told her I would make her a soup: with mushrooms and onion and lots of sea vegetables. So guess what kind of soup I'm making for that petulant child in waking time?
(Beware: I'm about to do the equivalent of showing you pictures from my vacation...oh wait, I already do do that.) I also dreamed I lived in a frozen wasteland. Everything was frozen, my bed, my walls, my feelings, the people. I decided to leave this wasteland and go into a more watery juicy world. (I'm not kidding.) But someone tried to shoot me, so I was running for my life.
In another, I lived in this big trailer or mobile home. Huge! Originally six people were going to come with me, and then I allowed for another six. I went wandering around this town or fair or something and when I came back, the house/trailer had been taken over by all these obnoxious people. And they were partying and making a mess, and they wouldn't leave no matter what I did. I went back to the fair and called all the people from my home (via a loudspeaker) to come and meet me at this place. They came and I talked and said only the original people could come back. The invaders weren't very nice, and they refused to give up the house/trailer. We got on a bus to return to the house/trailer, with me resigned just to live with them and the situation. I got on first and stood near the driver. Then the first six got on near me, then the second six, then the invaders in back. The bus started forward and everyone was quiet.
Then I said, "Look, this is like a microcosm for what's happening on the planet. If we all go back there and live together the sewage will back up, the air will be foul. It won't be good for any of us." They didn't care! So I told the bus driver to stop. I said, "Well, I'm not going to be part of it." I stepped off the bus. I didn't look back. I heard people behind me so I thought my first six were following. I laid down on a big glorious rock to go to sleep. It was so nice. Two women did follow me, but they weren't from the bus. I didn't know them. I held them like they were my daughters. A policeman came to roust us, informing me that the two women were con artists.
I can't believe I told you the whole thing. Ah well. I'll be ashamed of using my blogosphere space up with this later. Right now I'm gettin' off the bus.
May You Dream in Beauty!
Labels: dreams, libraries, sleep
1 comments
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Six Words
Theriomorph has issued a challenge. If you want to try your hand at six word stories—or you just want to read some, drop on over to her 'spot.
0 comments
A Must Read
Go here and read Mario's A Constipation for the Untied States of Amnesia.
0 comments
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
The Gathering
We had the Gathering here tonight. I always do the Halloween Gathering. (I've got to get to bed, so this will be quick and matter of fact.) It was so much fun. I missed Linda, but it wasn't a terrible feeling like I thought it would be. Serena was supposed to come, but she didn't. We did the drumming and said the names outloud of those who have died in the last year. That's always sad. Dave, Sheila, Linda. And too many other names.
Then we did this visualization I learned at Medicine for the Earth. We rattled and drummed and imagined ourselves as we would like to be, using all our senses. Then we toned together.
I had printed out all the Old Mermaid suggestions and folded them up and put them in a cauldron. (Thanks for idea, Joanna.) After we finished omming, ahhhing, humming, etc., I walked around with the cauldron and each woman picked one out. Some of the women read them outloud and said what they meant—or didn't mean—to them. Two women mentioned that what they had been visualizing and imagining was on their "suggestion." I'd then tell them a story from the book about their particular Old Mermaid. They really seemed to like it. I've never had a book where I can talk about it and people get excited about it and want to read it. Everyone asked me when it was coming out and when they could get a copy of it. My friend Becky has read it, so she told everyone how much she enjoyed it. That was fun having someone here who had read it.
The women dressed up as who they'd like to be in the coming year. We had people dressed for peace, comfort, journeying, art. One woman dressed up as Coyote Cowgirl. I got such a kick out of that! I was dressed as an Old Mermaid, no surprise there. (I went to a clothing exchange store in Portland and found a gown that I thought looked sort of like a mermaid tail. I kept my shoes on the entire time, by the way, since it was that same store where a woman got bitten by a rat. Anyway, I came home and cut the dress in half, kept the "tail" part and threw out the rest, pulled on a tank top and another shirt for the top.)
It was a great time! I wish I had pictures of someone besides me, but as usual, I didn't take pics, but Mario did when he got home.
More later, gators. I gotta get to sleep. I'm driving around to libraries all day tomorrow.
Evine was our fairy godmother. All of ours! It was so great. She granted all of our wishes. I now have a fairy godmother. How cool is that. Of course, I think of her at my fairy goddessmother, but that's just a technicality...
Mario took a whole series of photos when I was dancing in the kitchen afterwards. I took one of him dancing, but he had on his apron and it looked like a butcher's apron and it was just creepy. So we decided not to include that.
Then we did this visualization I learned at Medicine for the Earth. We rattled and drummed and imagined ourselves as we would like to be, using all our senses. Then we toned together.
I had printed out all the Old Mermaid suggestions and folded them up and put them in a cauldron. (Thanks for idea, Joanna.) After we finished omming, ahhhing, humming, etc., I walked around with the cauldron and each woman picked one out. Some of the women read them outloud and said what they meant—or didn't mean—to them. Two women mentioned that what they had been visualizing and imagining was on their "suggestion." I'd then tell them a story from the book about their particular Old Mermaid. They really seemed to like it. I've never had a book where I can talk about it and people get excited about it and want to read it. Everyone asked me when it was coming out and when they could get a copy of it. My friend Becky has read it, so she told everyone how much she enjoyed it. That was fun having someone here who had read it.
The women dressed up as who they'd like to be in the coming year. We had people dressed for peace, comfort, journeying, art. One woman dressed up as Coyote Cowgirl. I got such a kick out of that! I was dressed as an Old Mermaid, no surprise there. (I went to a clothing exchange store in Portland and found a gown that I thought looked sort of like a mermaid tail. I kept my shoes on the entire time, by the way, since it was that same store where a woman got bitten by a rat. Anyway, I came home and cut the dress in half, kept the "tail" part and threw out the rest, pulled on a tank top and another shirt for the top.)
It was a great time! I wish I had pictures of someone besides me, but as usual, I didn't take pics, but Mario did when he got home.
More later, gators. I gotta get to sleep. I'm driving around to libraries all day tomorrow.
Evine was our fairy godmother. All of ours! It was so great. She granted all of our wishes. I now have a fairy godmother. How cool is that. Of course, I think of her at my fairy goddessmother, but that's just a technicality...
Mario took a whole series of photos when I was dancing in the kitchen afterwards. I took one of him dancing, but he had on his apron and it looked like a butcher's apron and it was just creepy. So we decided not to include that.
Labels: Church of the Old Mermaids, Gathering, Halloween, photos
0 comments
Somehow...
Kevin Tillman, Pat Tillman's brother, has written an amazing essay. If you haven't read it yet, I hope you will now.
It goes, in part, like this:
"Somehow back at home, support for the soldiers meant having a five-year-old kindergartener scribble a picture with crayons and send it overseas, or slapping stickers on cars, or lobbying Congress for an extra pad in a helmet. It’s interesting that a soldier on his third or fourth tour should care about a drawing from a five-year-old; or a faded sticker on a car as his friends die around him; or an extra pad in a helmet, as if it will protect him when an IED throws his vehicle 50 feet into the air as his body comes apart and his skin melts to the seat.
"Somehow the more soldiers that die, the more legitimate the illegal invasion becomes.
"Somehow American leadership, whose only credit is lying to its people and illegally invading a nation, has been allowed to steal the courage, virtue and honor of its soldiers on the ground.
"Somehow those afraid to fight an illegal invasion decades ago are allowed to send soldiers to die for an illegal invasion they started."
Blessed be. 0 comments
It goes, in part, like this:
"Somehow back at home, support for the soldiers meant having a five-year-old kindergartener scribble a picture with crayons and send it overseas, or slapping stickers on cars, or lobbying Congress for an extra pad in a helmet. It’s interesting that a soldier on his third or fourth tour should care about a drawing from a five-year-old; or a faded sticker on a car as his friends die around him; or an extra pad in a helmet, as if it will protect him when an IED throws his vehicle 50 feet into the air as his body comes apart and his skin melts to the seat.
"Somehow the more soldiers that die, the more legitimate the illegal invasion becomes.
"Somehow American leadership, whose only credit is lying to its people and illegally invading a nation, has been allowed to steal the courage, virtue and honor of its soldiers on the ground.
"Somehow those afraid to fight an illegal invasion decades ago are allowed to send soldiers to die for an illegal invasion they started."
Blessed be. 0 comments
Monday, October 23, 2006
To Live Content
"To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasions, hurry never. In a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony." —William Henry Channing (via)
3 comments
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Google Repulsican?
Google is donating to Republicans—Republicans who want more regulation of the internet. Gotta figure out a different way to search I thinks. See, power corrupts abso-freaking-lutely. And blogger is owned by Google. What to do?
1 comments
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Speaking Truth to Power Again
Did you see/hear or read Keith Olbermann's latest, The Beginning of the End of America. Great. Sad. Terrible. Made me weep. This should be broadcast everywhere throughout the country. A must see. Pass it on and on and on. Try to listen to it. It's good to hear it outloud. Here's the text.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Keith Olbermann. 2 comments
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Keith Olbermann. 2 comments
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
Does Anyone Really Want This Man to Be Prez?
John McCain said he'd commit suicide if the Dems win. Sounds like the kind of guy we want to be prez, eh: someone who is so obviously open and willing to work with the loyal opposition. I don't understand why people like him. He's carried water for Bush for years even after they attacked his wife during the last election. Etc.
Okay. I'll stop now. 0 comments
Okay. I'll stop now. 0 comments
First Draft
Just four hours ago I finished the first draft of Ruby's Imagine. In case you care about birth weight etc. Ruby' Imagine is longer in pages and wordage than my two previous YA ventures, Mercy, Unbound and Broken Moon (all of whom Momma loves).
Yes, I'm giddy. I read it to Mario. He said it was marvelous, fantastic, and some more complex sentences. I was crying near the end, so I had to have Mario finish reading it outloud. (Mario says he had one tearing up episode near the end, too.)
Tomorrow I start the first rewrite. Ruby has a particular dialect that changes throughout the book (it's part of the story), so that is very, very tricky. I will say (as opposed to not saying) that writing the scenes during and after the hurricane were difficult. I cried a lot. When you write a book like this, it requires a lot of research, but in the end, you have to put all that away and just let the character tell the story. But I know so many of the stories. This is the same way I felt about Nadira in Broken Moon. I think it is so important to be respectful and tell these stories with compassion. That's my job. I don't think the people of this country should forget what happened in New Orleans—what's still happening there.
So I know I owe letters and the like to people, so I apologize here and let you know that I will soon sit down and respond. But for now, I've got library work to do and then I want to try and get the first 50 pages of Ruby's Imagine rewritten and solid enough to send off to my agent next week. I love, love, love writing these young adult books. (I told you Broken Moon was chosen as a Junior Library Guild selection, didn't I? They sent me a certificate and everything. I was really touched by that. I love that they loved the story.)
As Ruby would say, "I loves, loves, loves."
Not a bad gig.
Catch you on the flip side. 2 comments
Yes, I'm giddy. I read it to Mario. He said it was marvelous, fantastic, and some more complex sentences. I was crying near the end, so I had to have Mario finish reading it outloud. (Mario says he had one tearing up episode near the end, too.)
Tomorrow I start the first rewrite. Ruby has a particular dialect that changes throughout the book (it's part of the story), so that is very, very tricky. I will say (as opposed to not saying) that writing the scenes during and after the hurricane were difficult. I cried a lot. When you write a book like this, it requires a lot of research, but in the end, you have to put all that away and just let the character tell the story. But I know so many of the stories. This is the same way I felt about Nadira in Broken Moon. I think it is so important to be respectful and tell these stories with compassion. That's my job. I don't think the people of this country should forget what happened in New Orleans—what's still happening there.
So I know I owe letters and the like to people, so I apologize here and let you know that I will soon sit down and respond. But for now, I've got library work to do and then I want to try and get the first 50 pages of Ruby's Imagine rewritten and solid enough to send off to my agent next week. I love, love, love writing these young adult books. (I told you Broken Moon was chosen as a Junior Library Guild selection, didn't I? They sent me a certificate and everything. I was really touched by that. I love that they loved the story.)
As Ruby would say, "I loves, loves, loves."
Not a bad gig.
Catch you on the flip side. 2 comments
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
The Way We Were
The United States is no longer what it was. This country is now legally no different from many other fascist and repressive countries. The President of the United States signed a bill into law that makes torture legal. It also makes it legal for him to put you or me or anyone else into prison without telling us why and without legal representation. By the way, as he signed this torture bill into law, protesters in front of the White House were arrested and taken away.
America. R.I.P.
I feel so sad.
I'm listening to Keith Olbermann right now and Jonathan Turley said, "Where were the American people? Why didn't they stand up against this?" History is going to judge us harshly. The United States has become the enemies of the rest of the world because of this (and the other things this government is doing). Keith said to Turley that "we'll probably see each other in Gitmo." What's going to stop Bush from putting anyone away who disagrees with him?
I have no words to express how I feel. It feels like someone has written "The End" on the story of our country.
P.S. I don't blame it all on the people or on the administration. I just googled this story and no major newspapers had it as their lead. For many I couldn't find the information anywhere. On CNN, their second lead story was about Madonna. The torture bill was way down near the bottom of the page. 6 comments
America. R.I.P.
I feel so sad.
I'm listening to Keith Olbermann right now and Jonathan Turley said, "Where were the American people? Why didn't they stand up against this?" History is going to judge us harshly. The United States has become the enemies of the rest of the world because of this (and the other things this government is doing). Keith said to Turley that "we'll probably see each other in Gitmo." What's going to stop Bush from putting anyone away who disagrees with him?
I have no words to express how I feel. It feels like someone has written "The End" on the story of our country.
P.S. I don't blame it all on the people or on the administration. I just googled this story and no major newspapers had it as their lead. For many I couldn't find the information anywhere. On CNN, their second lead story was about Madonna. The torture bill was way down near the bottom of the page. 6 comments
Sunday, October 15, 2006
Awestruck
"Forfeit your sense of awe...and the universe becomes a market place for you." —Rabbi Heschel
0 comments
Friday, October 13, 2006
Freya's Day
I love Friday the 13th. Friday is the goddess Freya's day. Or Venus's day: dies Veneris. Freya's day is even more special when it is the 13th, her sacred number, the number of moons in a year.
The idea of eating fish on Friday is most likely a wholly pagan one. Fish are sacred to Aphrodite (and Venus) and were seen as fertility symbols. (And "aphrodiasiacs.) Reminds me of fish-tailed goddesses. Makes me think of goin' with the flow—but watching out for waterfalls. Makes me think of Delphi, whose name means "fish" and "womb." I remember standing in Delphi, in the ruins, feeling as though I was at the center of something, even though I didn't know or understand what. It was cold and I sat in an olive tree to keep warm. I remember leaning against a Doric column, tall and solid and made a thousand years or more before I was born. I remember feeling distant, as I often did at historical places, because I knew more was happening than I could understand. Everything seemed just out of my reach. But I breathed the same air the Pythia breathed, didn't I? Haven't we all?
On the ride home to Athens—I know you've heard the story before—the bus went too fast around mountainous hairpin curves. I wondered if we would go over the abyss. An old Greek woman murmured prayers and held my hand. At least I think they were prayers. Maybe she was imparting wisdom to me that I still don't understand. Maybe she was telling me her life story. Maybe she was the Pythia trying to tell me what she knew, what she had seen. Won't someone please listen? Maybe she was an Old Mermaid, letting me know that all would be all right. You will suffer, my child. You will have hard times. The world will change. But you will find a man who will love you, not like this man who sits next to you now. He is nothing in your life. And you will tell stories. This place of dolphins, this place at the heart of the world, will swim in you for all time. It is the Old Sea. And you will see. We are everywhere. Laugh or weep, my child; we are always in your tears. Possibilities are infinite. There will be so much beauty and love in your life. Listen, listen. My child, my child. Love, love, love.
What else did you say? Mother, mother? What else?
She got off, somewhere in the mountains. I didn't want to let go of her hand. Then our ride continued. It was the longest bus ride in history. It snowed and snowed and snowed. All of Olympia, all of Greece, seemed covered in white. And it was so cold. I thought it would never end.
On the way back to the United States, our plane fell through the sky. I knew I was going to die. I was certain of it. And it was not comforting. It was terrifying. And I put my arms around the man who would become nothing in my life and waited to die.
I didn't die. We didn't. I was never the same.
And why should I be?
Old Mother, Old Mermaid, Pythia. I am ready now. Can you whisper to me again? I'm ready to listen. I'm ready to understand.
Aren't I?
May You All Walk or Swim in Beauty! 2 comments
The idea of eating fish on Friday is most likely a wholly pagan one. Fish are sacred to Aphrodite (and Venus) and were seen as fertility symbols. (And "aphrodiasiacs.) Reminds me of fish-tailed goddesses. Makes me think of goin' with the flow—but watching out for waterfalls. Makes me think of Delphi, whose name means "fish" and "womb." I remember standing in Delphi, in the ruins, feeling as though I was at the center of something, even though I didn't know or understand what. It was cold and I sat in an olive tree to keep warm. I remember leaning against a Doric column, tall and solid and made a thousand years or more before I was born. I remember feeling distant, as I often did at historical places, because I knew more was happening than I could understand. Everything seemed just out of my reach. But I breathed the same air the Pythia breathed, didn't I? Haven't we all?
On the ride home to Athens—I know you've heard the story before—the bus went too fast around mountainous hairpin curves. I wondered if we would go over the abyss. An old Greek woman murmured prayers and held my hand. At least I think they were prayers. Maybe she was imparting wisdom to me that I still don't understand. Maybe she was telling me her life story. Maybe she was the Pythia trying to tell me what she knew, what she had seen. Won't someone please listen? Maybe she was an Old Mermaid, letting me know that all would be all right. You will suffer, my child. You will have hard times. The world will change. But you will find a man who will love you, not like this man who sits next to you now. He is nothing in your life. And you will tell stories. This place of dolphins, this place at the heart of the world, will swim in you for all time. It is the Old Sea. And you will see. We are everywhere. Laugh or weep, my child; we are always in your tears. Possibilities are infinite. There will be so much beauty and love in your life. Listen, listen. My child, my child. Love, love, love.
What else did you say? Mother, mother? What else?
She got off, somewhere in the mountains. I didn't want to let go of her hand. Then our ride continued. It was the longest bus ride in history. It snowed and snowed and snowed. All of Olympia, all of Greece, seemed covered in white. And it was so cold. I thought it would never end.
On the way back to the United States, our plane fell through the sky. I knew I was going to die. I was certain of it. And it was not comforting. It was terrifying. And I put my arms around the man who would become nothing in my life and waited to die.
I didn't die. We didn't. I was never the same.
And why should I be?
Old Mother, Old Mermaid, Pythia. I am ready now. Can you whisper to me again? I'm ready to listen. I'm ready to understand.
Aren't I?
May You All Walk or Swim in Beauty! 2 comments
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Thirstday
We're watching a DVD called Accessing the Mystic with Matthew Fox and Rupert Sheldrake. They're talking about ritual and ceremony. You know my feeling about ceremony: I think we're hardwired for it. Or softwired. Whatever the right word is.
I spent the day in Portland, first acupuncture and then craniosacral. During the break between the two, I went to New Seasons and sat in their eating area and ate and wrote on Ruby's Imagine. I really like her voice. I talks likes that sometimes. It's very freeing.
Have you heard about this book Tempting Faith by David Kuo? He was second-in-command for the Office of Faith-Based Initiatives, that thing this administration created years ago and so many of us said this was just a way for them to get more Republicans elected using taxpayer money. Guess what? We were right. That’s exactly what happened. In 19 of 20 races where these people were involved, the Republicans won. One of these seats was Max Cleland’s. You remember him: the U.S. Senator who lost three limbs in Vietnam and yet the neo-cons were able to Swiftboat him.
I'm so glad conservatives are beginning to stand up and speak out for their country and their communities. On AirAmerica, Al Franken had only conservatives on today—at least when I was listening—and it felt good to hear them being outraged about the same things that frustrate and horrify so many of us. My college roommate was conservative; I was not. We got along just fine.
Which reminds me, I thought I found her e-mail on an article so I wrote to her. She was (or is) in the military, but I'd lost touch with her. (I haven't heard back so maybe it wasn't her.) But when I looked on tracksy.com today to see who has been visiting FS, I found many hits from the military. It was probably just the person to whom I sent the e-mail checking me out, but I got a chill seeing that, before I realized what it was. Isn't that awful? The Emperor and his tailors have sent a chill around the world and into our hearts in ways we don't even understand yet. Now that Congress has made it legal for the Prez to put any of us away without telling us why and without charging us (even though he hasn't signed it yet), life looks and feels different. And I am reminded once again of those who are in Guantanamo who have been there for years and who haven't been charged. The Catholic Church may get rid of limbo, but these men are still living in limbo. They have been living the reality of what can happen when a government ignores basic human rights and decency.
We must be better than these political leaders. We must be better than religious leaders. We need to be a part of our communities in real and messy and wonderful and irritating ways. We can't let anyone pit us against each other because of our differences of opinion. We need to live and work together in kindness and compassion. Don't you think?
Okay. I'm going to really watch this DVD now and cuddle with my sweetie. I wish you all joy and love. By the way, I've started cooking again. I shall write of it soon and give you some recipes.
May You Walk in Beauty! 0 comments
I spent the day in Portland, first acupuncture and then craniosacral. During the break between the two, I went to New Seasons and sat in their eating area and ate and wrote on Ruby's Imagine. I really like her voice. I talks likes that sometimes. It's very freeing.
Have you heard about this book Tempting Faith by David Kuo? He was second-in-command for the Office of Faith-Based Initiatives, that thing this administration created years ago and so many of us said this was just a way for them to get more Republicans elected using taxpayer money. Guess what? We were right. That’s exactly what happened. In 19 of 20 races where these people were involved, the Republicans won. One of these seats was Max Cleland’s. You remember him: the U.S. Senator who lost three limbs in Vietnam and yet the neo-cons were able to Swiftboat him.
I'm so glad conservatives are beginning to stand up and speak out for their country and their communities. On AirAmerica, Al Franken had only conservatives on today—at least when I was listening—and it felt good to hear them being outraged about the same things that frustrate and horrify so many of us. My college roommate was conservative; I was not. We got along just fine.
Which reminds me, I thought I found her e-mail on an article so I wrote to her. She was (or is) in the military, but I'd lost touch with her. (I haven't heard back so maybe it wasn't her.) But when I looked on tracksy.com today to see who has been visiting FS, I found many hits from the military. It was probably just the person to whom I sent the e-mail checking me out, but I got a chill seeing that, before I realized what it was. Isn't that awful? The Emperor and his tailors have sent a chill around the world and into our hearts in ways we don't even understand yet. Now that Congress has made it legal for the Prez to put any of us away without telling us why and without charging us (even though he hasn't signed it yet), life looks and feels different. And I am reminded once again of those who are in Guantanamo who have been there for years and who haven't been charged. The Catholic Church may get rid of limbo, but these men are still living in limbo. They have been living the reality of what can happen when a government ignores basic human rights and decency.
We must be better than these political leaders. We must be better than religious leaders. We need to be a part of our communities in real and messy and wonderful and irritating ways. We can't let anyone pit us against each other because of our differences of opinion. We need to live and work together in kindness and compassion. Don't you think?
Okay. I'm going to really watch this DVD now and cuddle with my sweetie. I wish you all joy and love. By the way, I've started cooking again. I shall write of it soon and give you some recipes.
May You Walk in Beauty! 0 comments
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
A Reminder
A reminder to us all that we must find ways to end this war and the cycle of violence. Over 600,000 Iraqis have died because of the war our tax dollars paid for. As I write letters and call my elected representatives and put signs on my lawn (and vote), I imagine the Iraqis free of the United States. I imagine them healthy, prospering, and working for their greater good. I imagine this for all of us. I hope soon that this vision exists in more places than in our imaginations.
Blessed be.
Or as the Old Mermaids would say, "Blessed sea." 1 comments
Blessed be.
Or as the Old Mermaids would say, "Blessed sea." 1 comments
Monday, October 09, 2006
Gotten the Boot
This is what happens to good people who do good things in this U.S. of A. Lt. Cmdr. Charles Swift, the lawyer who challenged Bush's use of military tribunals (and won), has been told he won't be promoted. It's the Navy's way of saying, "You're fired." Nothing surprises me anymore, but it still makes me sad to see people treated this way. (Sad and infuriated.) Maybe King George will decide now that Swift is siding with the "terrorists" and he'll be send off to jail himself. Of course, now that habeas corpus is dead, any of us could be sent off to jail for years and we'd never see the light of day. Or the light of the moon. *sigh* Every time I think of this, I cry. And I try to figure out what to do. (Didn't any of these politicians ever see The Wrong Man?)
I will leave you with some words from the venerable Howard Zinn:
"There is enormous hypocrisy surrounding the pious veneration of the Constitution and 'the rule of law.' The Constitution, like the Bible, is infinitely flexible and is used to serve the political needs of the moment. When the country was in economic crisis and turmoil in the Thirties and capitalism needed to be saved from the anger of the poor and hungry and unemployed, the Supreme Court was willing to stretch to infinity the constitutional right of Congress to regulate interstate commerce. It decided that the national government, desperate to regulate farm production, could tell a family farmer what to grow on his tiny piece of land.
"When the Constitution gets in the way of a war, it is ignored. When the Supreme Court was faced, during Vietnam, with a suit by soldiers refusing to go, claiming that there had been no declaration of war by Congress, as the Constitution required, the soldiers could not get four Supreme Court justices to agree to even hear the case. When, during World War I, Congress ignored the First Amendment's right to free speech by passing legislation to prohibit criticism of the war, the imprisonment of dissenters under this law was upheld unanimously by the Supreme Court, which included two presumably liberal and learned justices: Oliver Wendell Holmes and Louis Brandeis.
"It would be naive to depend on the Supreme Court to defend the rights of poor people, women, people of color, dissenters of all kinds. Those rights only come alive when citizens organize, protest, demonstrate, strike, boycott, rebel, and violate the law in order to uphold justice.
"The distinction between law and justice is ignored by all those Senators—Democrats and Republicans—who solemnly invoke as their highest concern 'the rule of law.' The law can be just; it can be unjust. It does not deserve to inherit the ultimate authority of the divine right of the king.
"The Constitution gave no rights to working people: no right to work less than twelve hours a day, no right to a living wage, no right to safe working conditions. Workers had to organize, go on strike, defy the law, the courts, the police, create a great movement which won the eight-hour day, and caused such commotion that Congress was forced to pass a minimum wage law, and Social Security, and unemployment insurance....
"Still, knowing the nature of the political and judicial system of this country, its inherent bias against the poor, against people of color, against dissidents, we cannot become dependent on the courts, or on our political leadership. Our culture—the media, the educational system—tries to crowd out of our political consciousness everything except who will be elected President and who will be on the Supreme Court, as if these are the most important decisions we make. They are not. They deflect us from the most important job citizens have, which is to bring democracy alive by organizing, protesting, engaging in acts of civil disobedience that shake up the system. That is why Cindy Sheehan's dramatic stand in Crawford, Texas, leading to 1,600 anti-war vigils around the country, involving 100,000 people, is more crucial to the future of American democracy than the mock hearings on Justice Roberts or the ones to come on Judge Alito....
"Let us not be disconsolate over the increasing control of the court system by the right wing.
"The courts have never been on the side of justice, only moving a few degrees one way or the other, unless pushed by the people. Those words engraved in the marble of the Supreme Court, 'Equal Justice Before the Law,' have always been a sham.
"No Supreme Court, liberal or conservative, will stop the war in Iraq, or redistribute the wealth of this country, or establish free medical care for every human being. Such fundamental change will depend, the experience of the past suggests, on the actions of an aroused citizenry, demanding that the promise of the Declaration of Independence--an equal right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—be fulfilled." 0 comments
I will leave you with some words from the venerable Howard Zinn:
"There is enormous hypocrisy surrounding the pious veneration of the Constitution and 'the rule of law.' The Constitution, like the Bible, is infinitely flexible and is used to serve the political needs of the moment. When the country was in economic crisis and turmoil in the Thirties and capitalism needed to be saved from the anger of the poor and hungry and unemployed, the Supreme Court was willing to stretch to infinity the constitutional right of Congress to regulate interstate commerce. It decided that the national government, desperate to regulate farm production, could tell a family farmer what to grow on his tiny piece of land.
"When the Constitution gets in the way of a war, it is ignored. When the Supreme Court was faced, during Vietnam, with a suit by soldiers refusing to go, claiming that there had been no declaration of war by Congress, as the Constitution required, the soldiers could not get four Supreme Court justices to agree to even hear the case. When, during World War I, Congress ignored the First Amendment's right to free speech by passing legislation to prohibit criticism of the war, the imprisonment of dissenters under this law was upheld unanimously by the Supreme Court, which included two presumably liberal and learned justices: Oliver Wendell Holmes and Louis Brandeis.
"It would be naive to depend on the Supreme Court to defend the rights of poor people, women, people of color, dissenters of all kinds. Those rights only come alive when citizens organize, protest, demonstrate, strike, boycott, rebel, and violate the law in order to uphold justice.
"The distinction between law and justice is ignored by all those Senators—Democrats and Republicans—who solemnly invoke as their highest concern 'the rule of law.' The law can be just; it can be unjust. It does not deserve to inherit the ultimate authority of the divine right of the king.
"The Constitution gave no rights to working people: no right to work less than twelve hours a day, no right to a living wage, no right to safe working conditions. Workers had to organize, go on strike, defy the law, the courts, the police, create a great movement which won the eight-hour day, and caused such commotion that Congress was forced to pass a minimum wage law, and Social Security, and unemployment insurance....
"Still, knowing the nature of the political and judicial system of this country, its inherent bias against the poor, against people of color, against dissidents, we cannot become dependent on the courts, or on our political leadership. Our culture—the media, the educational system—tries to crowd out of our political consciousness everything except who will be elected President and who will be on the Supreme Court, as if these are the most important decisions we make. They are not. They deflect us from the most important job citizens have, which is to bring democracy alive by organizing, protesting, engaging in acts of civil disobedience that shake up the system. That is why Cindy Sheehan's dramatic stand in Crawford, Texas, leading to 1,600 anti-war vigils around the country, involving 100,000 people, is more crucial to the future of American democracy than the mock hearings on Justice Roberts or the ones to come on Judge Alito....
"Let us not be disconsolate over the increasing control of the court system by the right wing.
"The courts have never been on the side of justice, only moving a few degrees one way or the other, unless pushed by the people. Those words engraved in the marble of the Supreme Court, 'Equal Justice Before the Law,' have always been a sham.
"No Supreme Court, liberal or conservative, will stop the war in Iraq, or redistribute the wealth of this country, or establish free medical care for every human being. Such fundamental change will depend, the experience of the past suggests, on the actions of an aroused citizenry, demanding that the promise of the Declaration of Independence--an equal right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness—be fulfilled." 0 comments
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Bu-tee-ful Day
It's absolutely gorgeous outside. I walked with Mario on his break. The crows were in Nirvana. There are nuts everywhere—hazelnuts and walnuts—so the crows are picking up, flying up, dropping down, and dropping down. You just gotta love crows, don't cha?
Last night (as we were driving to Hood River to see some Dia de los Muertos art) we saw an absolutely stunning Harvest moon rise up between the V of the Gorge. We both gasped when we first saw it. It was the same color as the clouds: a kind of light light barely pink that was almost gray. Exquisite. We pulled over to the side of the highway just to gaze at it.
Today is a perfect autumn day. I am inside. I had our cable turned back on so I could watch baseball. The Tigers are in the division playoffs. The Yankees are playing like amateurs. The Tigers are superb. If they don't blow their lead, they'll go into the playoffs. I'm typing up pages of Ruby's Imagine as I watch.
I grew up listening (and watching) Detroit Tiger baseball. When they were in the 1968 World Series, we watched it in the auditorium in school. In 1984 when they were again in the World Series, Mario and I watched it in Bandon, Oregon. I think I'll always remember Kirk Gibson limping up to the plate in the eighth inning of game 5. Two out. Two on. He faced Goose Gossage. If he didn't hit a homerun, if he hit even a line drive, they'd get him out because he could barely walk, let alone run. He looked at the Goose. The Goose looked at him. And the Goose pitched to him. Gibson swung and hit a home run. Won the series. It was amazing.
In other news...I'm on an anti-inflammatory no gluten diet. Plus I've got me some supplements and I'm taking homeopathic remedies (and undas). And I'm doing all the other stuff. Yesterday I had seventeen needles in me. The most ever in my life. Unfortunately one of my acupuncturists is leaving town. (Did I already mention that?) I'm seeing this as the proverbial umpteenth millionth wakeup call. I'm going to try and keep up with my practice etc. I mean it's not like I drink, do drugs, or eat like shit. But...something still ain't right.
My dreams are fascinating lately. To me. I won't bore you with them. (Not today, at least.)
Mario will be home soon to watch a few minutes of the game with me during his break. Such fun. (When did Johnny Damon cut his hair? No good can come when becoming a Yankee.) Detroit may not get to the World Series but if their only service is to knock out New York then they done good. They were talking about a subway series. Who would care? (Sorry, New Yorkers, but no one would care—except maybe New Yorkers. Okay, you got me there.)
I appreciate all your good words to me about my health. It's a struggle so many of us have. I'm hopeful someday it won't be so much of the focus of my life.
Oh, and yes, I've noticed all the goings-on in Washington. I can root for almost anything that will bring down the neo-cons and this administration, but I do think more important things are happening than the Foley scandal. But it does seem indicative of the hypocrisy of these people that they let this behavior continue for so long. I just hope this doesn't turn into gay bashing.
By the way, I'm keeping the TeeVee until after the elections. I'm looking forward to seeing Keith Olbermann someplace bigger than on my computer screen. Did you hear his latest? I'm surprised he hasn't been fired. I'd almost keep my TV just for him. It's amazing he's still on the air. He is my hero. He called King George what he is: a liar. Go here to read it or hear it.
Bravo, bravo.
Take me out to the ball game... 6 comments
Last night (as we were driving to Hood River to see some Dia de los Muertos art) we saw an absolutely stunning Harvest moon rise up between the V of the Gorge. We both gasped when we first saw it. It was the same color as the clouds: a kind of light light barely pink that was almost gray. Exquisite. We pulled over to the side of the highway just to gaze at it.
Today is a perfect autumn day. I am inside. I had our cable turned back on so I could watch baseball. The Tigers are in the division playoffs. The Yankees are playing like amateurs. The Tigers are superb. If they don't blow their lead, they'll go into the playoffs. I'm typing up pages of Ruby's Imagine as I watch.
I grew up listening (and watching) Detroit Tiger baseball. When they were in the 1968 World Series, we watched it in the auditorium in school. In 1984 when they were again in the World Series, Mario and I watched it in Bandon, Oregon. I think I'll always remember Kirk Gibson limping up to the plate in the eighth inning of game 5. Two out. Two on. He faced Goose Gossage. If he didn't hit a homerun, if he hit even a line drive, they'd get him out because he could barely walk, let alone run. He looked at the Goose. The Goose looked at him. And the Goose pitched to him. Gibson swung and hit a home run. Won the series. It was amazing.
In other news...I'm on an anti-inflammatory no gluten diet. Plus I've got me some supplements and I'm taking homeopathic remedies (and undas). And I'm doing all the other stuff. Yesterday I had seventeen needles in me. The most ever in my life. Unfortunately one of my acupuncturists is leaving town. (Did I already mention that?) I'm seeing this as the proverbial umpteenth millionth wakeup call. I'm going to try and keep up with my practice etc. I mean it's not like I drink, do drugs, or eat like shit. But...something still ain't right.
My dreams are fascinating lately. To me. I won't bore you with them. (Not today, at least.)
Mario will be home soon to watch a few minutes of the game with me during his break. Such fun. (When did Johnny Damon cut his hair? No good can come when becoming a Yankee.) Detroit may not get to the World Series but if their only service is to knock out New York then they done good. They were talking about a subway series. Who would care? (Sorry, New Yorkers, but no one would care—except maybe New Yorkers. Okay, you got me there.)
I appreciate all your good words to me about my health. It's a struggle so many of us have. I'm hopeful someday it won't be so much of the focus of my life.
Oh, and yes, I've noticed all the goings-on in Washington. I can root for almost anything that will bring down the neo-cons and this administration, but I do think more important things are happening than the Foley scandal. But it does seem indicative of the hypocrisy of these people that they let this behavior continue for so long. I just hope this doesn't turn into gay bashing.
By the way, I'm keeping the TeeVee until after the elections. I'm looking forward to seeing Keith Olbermann someplace bigger than on my computer screen. Did you hear his latest? I'm surprised he hasn't been fired. I'd almost keep my TV just for him. It's amazing he's still on the air. He is my hero. He called King George what he is: a liar. Go here to read it or hear it.
Bravo, bravo.
Take me out to the ball game... 6 comments
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
The Verdict
Went to see my surgeon today. Not good news. Sinuses are in an uproar again, polyps are returning. So discouraged and upset. She wants me on major drugs: prednisone, singulair, etc., then she'll check me out again in two weeks. I'm going to see my regular doc tomorrow, as well as my naturopath and the craniosacral therapist, next day acupuncturist. Then I'll decide what to do. I can't have surgery ever few months, and I don't want to be on drugs all the time. What to do? Why did they return?
We'll see what happens. Guess it'll mean a break from writing however. *sigh*
I thought all these problems were history...Now it's a mystery.
What would the Old Mermaids do? 12 comments
We'll see what happens. Guess it'll mean a break from writing however. *sigh*
I thought all these problems were history...Now it's a mystery.
What would the Old Mermaids do? 12 comments
Monday, October 02, 2006
Can This Be Real?
I think I may have seen just about everything: cut-outs of Daddies and Mommies as a kind of substitute while they're away at war. Doesn't it just make you feel warm and fuzzy?
0 comments
Sunday, October 01, 2006
And Counting...
I've had my doubts and I've almost quit, but now I'm into Ruby's Imagine. Mario reminded me that I always have these doubts. Except with Mercy, Unbound. He says that was the only one. Even with COTOM, he says, I had a few doubts. He told me I should write all this down so that I'll remember for the next novel, but I didn't. I remembered yesterday that when I was writing Broken Moon, I almost quit because I didn't think I could get her voice down. What did I know about a Pakistani girl? Her voice was so different from Mercy's. Remembering this doubt on my part gave me the confidence to kept going with Ruby. Ruby has a very distinct voice, too, which is very different from my own or anyone else's I know. But I've relaxed at bit and it's gotten easier. We went to Tao of Tea last night. I had dal and rice and wrote on Ruby's Imagine, then I read it to Mario. (Ahhh, the life of Riley.) It was a nice time.
We went for a walk Friday, after I had started Ruby's Imagine. A rust-colored butterfly alighted on my sleeve and stayed for a while, just like in the beginning of the book, and it's proboscis tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed, in the form of a spiral: as though telling me a big spin was on the way, like in the book. I figured I couldn't stop writing the book once this had happened: although I was sorely tempted for a couple of days. I don't like writing to be hard. I don't believe one has to suffer for one's art. Or craft. Or life. Or love. I write because I love to, because it makes me feel good, and because I hope others get something out of it. I don't do it to suffer. I don't believe good work needs to be difficult. I'm not saying that it isn't sometimes difficult—but it doesn't have to be. Especially if I'm the one doing the work. Joy, joy, joy. That's my recipe for good work.
But I'm stalling. I'm going to try and write 3,000 words a day, so you may not hear much from me for the next little while. We'll see. My agent has Church of the Old Mermaids, by the way, so the Old Mermaids are making their way through the publishing world. I hope you wish them well. I want their stories out there. I think it's time.
Now here I go to New Orleans and Ruby.
Just imagine it!
May You Create in Beauty! 5 commentsAll photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.
We went for a walk Friday, after I had started Ruby's Imagine. A rust-colored butterfly alighted on my sleeve and stayed for a while, just like in the beginning of the book, and it's proboscis tightened and relaxed, tightened and relaxed, in the form of a spiral: as though telling me a big spin was on the way, like in the book. I figured I couldn't stop writing the book once this had happened: although I was sorely tempted for a couple of days. I don't like writing to be hard. I don't believe one has to suffer for one's art. Or craft. Or life. Or love. I write because I love to, because it makes me feel good, and because I hope others get something out of it. I don't do it to suffer. I don't believe good work needs to be difficult. I'm not saying that it isn't sometimes difficult—but it doesn't have to be. Especially if I'm the one doing the work. Joy, joy, joy. That's my recipe for good work.
But I'm stalling. I'm going to try and write 3,000 words a day, so you may not hear much from me for the next little while. We'll see. My agent has Church of the Old Mermaids, by the way, so the Old Mermaids are making their way through the publishing world. I hope you wish them well. I want their stories out there. I think it's time.
Now here I go to New Orleans and Ruby.
Just imagine it!
May You Create in Beauty! 5 comments
