Sharon Cornet's Blog

Minerva Rewards

2012-02-28T11:11:00.000-08:00

Minerva Rewards: It's about time somebody came up with something like this! Brilliant idea. Totally awesome.

I figured I'd try it... meh! why not!?

BIGFOOT/SASQUATCH SIGHTINGS MAP

2012-02-03T07:54:00.000-08:00

My bigfoot blog page was so popular that I decided to make the map (that the blog page was about) available to the public for those interested. Details are below. The full text of the map is available below, also found in my April 2011 blog, which you can navigate to on the right at the Blog Archive. -->

THIS MAP IS NOW AVAILABLE FOR A $20 (+$6.95 S/H FEE) DONATION!

The map shows:
Class A (sighting locations indicated by a RED creature shape) and
Class B (footprint locations indicated by a BLACK foot shape) localities based on the BFRO database for these sightings.

Special thanks to Matt Moneymaker at the BFRO for permission to use this information so we could print the maps and make them available on a donation-basis to the public.

ANNOUNCEMENT!: THIS WEST COAST BIGFOOT MAP 20"X30" FULL COLOR LUSTRE FINISH (PHOTO QUALITY) POSTER IS NOW AVAILABLE TO ORDER WITH A $20 (PLUS $6.95 S/H) DONATION!!!

Send $26.95 to email address sunstarangel@msn.com via Paypal.com. Usually ships within 24-72 hrs USPS (Domestic orders only).

or

GO HERE TO GET YOUR BIGFOOT MAP--> http://www.sunstar-solutions.com/articles2.htm

I wrote the text section for my nephew's Bigfoot sightings map, based on the BFRO's sighting database... I am happy to say it is now officially published on this Map poster. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------------
See the map being made on GIS here:

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=3251135556542&set=a.2257893166103.134424.1211583101&type=3&theater

And here:

http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=3251130996428&set=a.2257893166103.134424.1211583101&type=3&theater

See/read the FULL TEXT on the map here:

http://sunstarangel.blogspot.com/2011/04/bigfootsasquatch-pnw-hominoid.html

GO HERE TO GET YOUR BIGFOOT MAP--> http://www.sunstar-solutions.com/articles2.htm

LISTENING TO THE UNIVERSE

2012-02-02T00:12:00.000-08:00

I call it the universe
Some call it the Universe with a capital “U”
But that might be like calling it God with a capital “G”
When many gods with the small “g” also answer peoples’ prayers around the world
Different cultures and belief systems all with their respective gods
Their respective enculturation
Their individualized ethnocentric beliefs
But my father, a Christian minister, once told me
“All the other gods are false”
Then why do they also answer peoples’ prayers? I wondered…
I never asked him, figuring he could not answer
Yet, Catholics pray to Saints who they feel absolutely answer their prayers
And Hindus ask and also receive answers to their prayers, and receive healings
All over the world this occurs, relatively on par with the success found in
Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Baha’i, other monotheistic religions,
As well as paganism, Wicca, Hinduism, or other polytheistic religions
Or even the wishes and hopes of those who are agnostic, or practice shamanism, or other belief systems
So why is this phenomenon of prayers, fulfilled desires, healings, and other core values
ALL successful across the globe, despite gender, religion, ethnicity, socio-economic status, etc.?
People
Human beings – we are all one
One race – All sharing the same DNA
It is genetic
It is within us
Even the Bible says “the Kingdom of God is within you”
Not outside, not as an outside god(s) or God, but as a relationship inside our own being-ness
Through our mind and will and soul/spirit
The common denominator is humankind connecting with the divine
What is spirit?
Energy
Everything – EVERYTHING – is energy
From the macro to the micro… the fractal of the universe
The universe responds at the atomic level when observed
Belief and faith make this so
And a lack of it absolves it
It responds accordingly
So truth becomes truths, because both sides are “right” because both occur, simultaneously
And the universe is relative to one’s experience
Or rather, the experiences we have are relative to our focus
Although the universe is both dynamic and changing, as well as static and unchanging
Two forces
Change and stasis
Punctuated equilibrium and gradualism in geology or evolution are but two forces of change
Fast and slow change, but change nonetheless
Laws are unchanging and these rule the universe as a different force
Pay attention to the forces at work around you
Every day – take notice
Listen to the wind – does it change or stay constant?
Observe the sun’s output – does it change?
Gravity? Electromagnetic influences? Stars emission of light?
Galaxies being swallowed up by black holes?
The universe expanding and creating space-time as it grows?
How about premonitions, or foresight, prophetic dreams or visions, and intuition?
Some things cannot be changed no matter how hard we try
Consider trying to stop a tsunami by standing in the ocean near the beach and outstretching your arms
Some forces are going to occur no matter what
Some things are known by sages and holy men, and psychics and foretellers
Some things are prophesied (even in Christianity 99% of the publicized “prophecies” are false)
And never occur – why?
What good is a prophecy of an earthquake in a subduction (tectonics) zone? Duh! Merely statistics!
A real prophecy, or foretelling, or premonition, is unchangeable
These are the things considered truly from “God” (or the universe, or the gods, or whatever)
The unchangeable things; even if you try, they cannot be undone
Sometimes part of the story is seen (clairvoyance) or heard (clairaudience) or such
So the outcome may be partially known, and correct within that framework
Although the big picture, in the end, may have a different result down the road
What then?
Everyone can see and know certain things
Dreams
Our higher consciousness and sub-conscious tells us things we already know
But don’t realize we know
Core Shamanism utilizes these central features within humanity
Across all continents and races and peoples, regardless of beliefs or gender or such
The answers are always within
Meditation can bring the answers out, or even hypnosis
Or even through dreams, or even premonitions or prophecy
Shamanism is the ONLY near-universal religion in the world
It bespeaks of the spiritual gifts people have no matter where they come from
That are common to all people, in varying degrees, but in similar ways
Religion is merely a tool for people to find their inner power
Tarot, or Runes, dowsing, dream interpretation, NLP, psychology, or a host of other things
Are merely TOOLS that aid the person in seeing or knowing at a deeper level
Left brained and right brained ways are equally powerful tools
But used in completely different ways to find the same answers
Intuitive is faster
Methodical can be if done by a computer
The human brain is fine-tuned to the universe
Our brains are super-computers
We are existing simultaneously with 11 (at least) dimensions
According to astrophysicists (or theoretical physicists)
The universe speaks to us in ways we cannot even comprehend yet
And one day, when technology catches up with the human brain
We will know why some people can sense things that others cannot
And find out they were right all along
Only when religion and science agree will we know truths
That are yet to be told, let alone believed
Until that day, people believe superstitions
And even those “work” because we believe them
We are observing that activity,
Which we manifest and co-create in the universe
The universe we live in, and are a part of
The universe within ourselves…

THE HANDWRITING ANALYSIS

2012-01-28T02:57:00.000-08:00

Tara looked at Gordon’s handwriting and winced. Distance, she thought, he keeps people at a distance. Her thoughts rambled as much as her mouth usually did, but this time she looked quietly, carefully. She studied not the words, but the strokes of his pen, the width between the words, the depth and pressure and angle of his letters, sentences, and words. She paid attention to how he dotted his “i’s” and the details of his “t” crossings.

Tara knew that handwriting analysis was a science, and was even used by professionals in a court of law to analyze criminal behavior, but for her it was a serious hobby, and even one she used when in investigative mode, or when interviewing people. She knew enough to be able to read when people had issues, or not, and even things they kept secret from the rest of the world, such as their sexual drive and habits, if they had health problems in a certain area of their body, if they were selfish, generous, close-minded, had self-deception, or even if they were compulsive liars.

Tara studied Gordon’s “y” and “g” strokes, contemplating his sexual drive. Yes, he had a healthy drive and knows what he likes. She smiled, especially considering they had been dating long distance, but had not yet been physically intimate. She anticipated no problems in the bedroom.

Emotional, but not exceedingly so… very direct… great imagination… he’s protective, and perhaps even a touch too trusting. Tara considered the latter, especially since the distance he kept from people was obvious in the writing sample Gordon had just prepared for her. Perhaps it is a protection mechanism, rather than being aloof?

“I cry at the drop of a hat,” he finally spoke, peering over her shoulder in sheer curiosity, “does that show up there?”

“MMMMM...mmmmm…”

Tara did not look up, although her eyes darted around the unlined paper, scanning over the letters, paying attention to his loops, and the downhill-to-uphill sentences. “Courage,” she finally said aloud, “you have great courage in the face of adversity.” She suddenly got a glimpse of both his distancing, as well as his sensitivity. “You feel down sometimes, and get discouraged, but ultimately you pull yourself out of it,” she told him. Luckily his “d’s” did not show too much sensitivity to criticism. She knew he would not blow up or get defensive if she told him something negative.

Gordon looked at her, noticing her long brown hair, soft cheeks, and blue eyes as she studied his handwriting. He admired her ability to see sides of him that he normally kept hidden, and for some reason he trusted her more than most people.

Tara felt his eyes upon her and glanced up for the first time, smiled warmly, and leaned over to kiss him. He responded in kind; their lips met, touching ever so softly. She noticed Gordon’s eyes were the same color as her own, and that they sparkled when he looked at her. She adored his sweet, handsome face and full, supple lips. Her heart melted as he placed his arms around her from behind.

Sighing deeply, Tara then turned again back to the paper in her hands, trying not to think about her emotional state since she knew she still had stars in her eyes, much like how she felt when she was a school girl with a crush on a boy. Yet here they were, adults in their 40’s, starting fresh with each other after having split up from their separate long-term relationships a year or so prior. They hadn’t known each other quite a full month yet, but she was ready for this relationship. She looked for evidence that he might be ready too, or that he might not be, whatever tale the handwriting would tell her as it stared back up at her from the paper. The seriousness returned to her face.

Gordon readjusted his position, waiting to hear what she might say next.

Tara spoke, “What happened to you that you keep people so far away?” Gordon did not expect a question so intrusive.

“I don’t know…” he shuffled his weight. “Perhaps it has to do with when my dad died. It affected me pretty severely.”

“Tell me about that.”

“What is there to tell? I was very close to him, and he suffered for many years before he left us. When he was gone, it devastated me, but that was a long time ago now.”

Tara noticed his eyes welling up with tears. He had just told her that he cried easily, and for the first time she was witnessing it. Gordon rubbed his face, wiping away the tears, and choked back his emotions, “I’m sorry…”

“No need to be sorry; it’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to make you dredge up the past like that…” yet she knew she had indeed asked a question that required a deep answer. She suddenly regretted that she had asked it to begin with. Handwriting analysis was often an emotionally charged process, especially when you begin seeing parts of peoples’ souls. She realized he was a very sensitive man, and that the distance he kept people at was a form of protection for himself, to keep him from getting hurt too easily. She did not want to be the source of such pain.

Gordon gathered himself, and then she told him all of the details about him that she had seen in his handwriting, trying to keep it more positive. He was fascinated by it all.

They talked at length about their lives apart, and how they were now enjoying each other’s company so much. The spoke about their hopes, and dreams, and even what their favorite foods were, old pets they had in the past, and even memories from their childhoods.

As the hours passed, their intimacy grew, and they found themselves lying on the couch together, embraced in intertwined arms, face to face, kissing, holding, and gently caressing each other.

“I love being with you Gordon,” Tara expressed herself directly. He looked at her and paused, then he said, “Are we an item?” She smiled nonchalantly and replied, “Of course we are a couple…” but he didn’t say anything and just stared at her for a few moments. She asked, “Don’t you think so?” but her words had already evoked a response in him she didn’t expect. He began crying softly, finally letting it out.

“I didn’t realize just how much being a couple meant to you until this moment,” Tara said as she kissed his tears, tasting them upon her lips.

Tara considered, and then whispered, “You asked me something earlier today…”

“Yes?” Gordon swallowed hard.

“You asked if I could see in your handwriting whether or not you cried at the drop of a hat.” Tara took a moment to form her words, but decided to just be blunt. “I did not see that one coming. I mean, I would have never guessed it before today, and I did not see it in what you wrote either.”

She realized that sometimes handwriting analysis was not enough to tell everything about a person. Sometimes simple human interaction was a far better indicator of the nature of the heart’s greatest desires, as well as a person’s needs. She knew he needed her. She also knew she needed him back.

Tara held Gordon for a good long time until he sighed deeply. “I love you Gordon,” she said to him. “I love you too, Tara.”

She placed her head on his chest, near the crook of his arm, which made him feel like a man again. He wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her tightly. They held each other for the longest time, completely in their own bliss.

The paper with the handwriting sample that laid on the coffee table by the couch, went unnoticed.

ENERGY HEALING

2012-01-27T00:40:00.001-08:00

I woke up and began a juicing diet for cleansing. It was appropriate to start the morning this way because it felt like a day of new beginnings and fresh perspectives on life. I was to visit my best friend, and then to go visit my other friend for an energy healing and attunement session.

Driving to see my best friend, the clock read 12:12. I knew it was a sign. I always see the 1’s and 2’s in repeating form, together or alone, or sometimes mirrored or reversed. My birthday is on the 21st (July) so I also see 7’s (I was born in ’70 so also see 0’s, or any combination of these numbers), as well as a couple other numbers, synchronistically. Continued driving to my best friend’s house and had a great conversation about knowing the different parts of ourselves, and how these different parts affect us and our thinking. This was relevant, because when I left there I drove to see another friend of mine for the energy healing work. It was time in my life to go to the next level, to attain the Master/Teacher level in Reiki, even though I had broken the mold of the traditional lineage. This was a new day, and it was time to learn things a new way.

My original Reiki Master, from back in the mid-1990’s, had taught Reiki I, II, and III in four parts, separating out the third part into “III” and “Master-Teacher” levels, instead of combining them into one class. At the time I did not mind since I was not interested in teaching energy work or healing techniques to anyone at a master or teacher level, so I skipped the last class, being happy with a Reiki III Practitioner level attainment. However, time, and experience, and becoming ordained (Interfaith) over the years had changed all of this. It was time to move forward into what is in my stars to become… a spiritual teacher and healer.

Energy. It is all about energy. Everything is energy. Everything.

Nothing is exempt.

The universe is made up of the stuff, and energy can sometimes be used in place of the word “spirit,” or even “thoughts,” or “intention,” or “manifestation” because it is all simply energy. All atoms, which permeate the universe, are part of this energy. All chemical reactions require energy. All neurons, firing away in our brains, rely on energy. Cellular function, and gravity, and even sleeping require energy. The Chinese call the “life force” of this energy chi. It is in everything, and is in fact, everything itself. I am energy, you are energy. Without it we would all be dead. Energy truly is the life force.

So as I sat at my friend’s house awaiting my energy attunement, we talked about realizing who we are in life, our true purpose, our reason for being, and our real essence, our real self. We are the reflection of what we think and do, no? No. We are the light, the source itself, as the sun, not the reflection of that light. We are the Energy of the universe itself. Part of it, and yet are it. If we want to find our inner power, we must realize that we are not powerful, no… we are Power itself. We must learn to say I am Power. I am Joy. I am Happiness. I am Success. I am Healing. I am Energy. We are the I AM of being, whole, and complete, and are the universe within, just as we live within the universe. We are not separate from it any more than it is separate from us.

Even those who follow the Bible have heard the verse that says “The kingdom of God is within you…” (Luke 17:20-21). It is something within everyone, no exceptions. It is available to all and does not discriminate.

I am Energy. I am all that is. Through this we co-create. We form miracles. We function completely from out of that place rather than attempting to function some part of ourselves, which is limited.

We discussed how this kind of thinking, and realization of who we really are as I AM should not be limited by lower thinking and labeling, such as the bodies we live in, or the limitations we may have in life, or circumstances that seem to get in the way of our advancement. If we associate ourselves with limited thinking, we ARE limited at that moment, because we believe it to be so. If we think we cannot heal someone with energy because it is too hard, or takes energy outside of ourselves, or may affect us by reducing our own energy, then that kind of thinking is faulty and needs to be replaced with the knowing that the universe is infinite and full of available energy to draw upon, and which we ARE already, within and without. It is neither good nor bad, but labeling it as such, or limiting it in our minds, can alter the course of what could otherwise happen or manifest as a positive power in someone’s favor for healing.

These parts of ourselves, how we see ourselves, is all important. Our power is great because I AM power. We do not gain power, we are power. Our success is imminent because I AM success. We do not gain success, we are success. It goes on and on like this, and how we limit our view of ourselves can alter our destiny, or at least the moment in which we live and breathe. Take a deep breath, and do this three times. It is that easy to decide to do, and when we do it we succeed at that task.

Feeling energy, and working with healing energy to help people with aches, pains, soreness, injuries, or even emotional or mental trauma, all boils down to being energy, and balancing that energy so the body and mind can heal themselves. Tapping into the source, which I AM, is what brings that healing at unmeasured levels. It is all about dancing with that energy to balance it. This is what I learned today.

So today, as I was attuned and accepted my place in the universe as the powerful and joyous and grace-receiving being that I AM, I thanked my friend for opening up within me this beautiful gift that will flow onto others. It was not new information, but it was exactly what I needed to hear and see and feel and know, today, to receive the energy healing for my own soul, so I could move on and teach and help others.

After all, it is the Master/Teacher that I AM that already knows this, and taps into this bountiful healing energy of the universe and overflows it onto and into others.

Blessings…

SunStar Angel

SEPARATION ANXIETY

2012-01-24T01:24:00.000-08:00

It hits me in the heart, and deep in the stomach. I remember it well, this feeling of gut-wrenching emotional pain. It strikes like a sudden thrust of a sword, straight into the center of my being when I feel someone pull away, or appear as such. Separation anxiety is not just a scab to the spirit, it is the ripping energy that opens the sore back up, exposing the bleeding fresh and new, within an old, old wound, reopened over time again and again.

Thinking on the past, and how we were married and lived as lovers, and how the thought of you pulling away would have made me feel that anxiety, that stripping away of my soul. Yet you were not the one to do it. I did it to you instead.

Here I sit on the brink of divorce, having taken so many steps toward that end over the last few years. You, who were taken from me years ago, and then I who moved across the country to “fix” myself and heal from the open wounds that came from that separation. First you left my presence, but not by your own volition. Then me, whom left your presence, this time by my choice. What kind of wife was I? What kind of person am I now, to leave for good? In every possible way except the right one? Am I shallow, or weak, or of immoral character? My demons eat at me, gnawing like gremlins at the metal of my cold heart.

Yet every choice is fraught with pros and cons, for nothing is ever perfect or balanced or even unbalanced completely – every extreme is weighed by some opposites. We had many opposites involved, and the legal case agreed with the universe this time, that 100% of our efforts would be fruitless, and would fail, or would backbite with a consequence beyond our ability to deal with it. We lived to that end of us, which was the beginning of the end of us now, today, through this divorce. I file the paperwork very soon. I will send it to you to sign, so it can be filed… 90 days seems like such a long time, but compared to the last few years it will fly by. A marriage on paper, over distance, through time. I feel I am at the beginning, and a new cycle has come upon me.

Today I read about someone else’s separation anxiety, and whoa(!) did it dredge up the memories in me. Why I fell apart when you were removed from my life. It spurred a letter to all our mutual friends, to tell them why you and I must remain friends yet be divorced as husband and wife. I have moved on. It was past time.

I have healed, and I know that this is true, because your separation from me, although bringing up memories from the wounds of the past, they simply remain in the past and I do not feel that same open wound that I did then. I am able to let go of you now. I am able to relieve the tension between us that has been there through my step-wise fashion of allowing you to move on without me, and vice versa. Yet somehow I feel that the separation anxiety is now being felt by you, because of me. I blame myself. I understand the guilt. I accept the consequences. I know it must be done. This time you were holding on, and I just simply lost my grip. I opened my hand, and released your last hold on me. And all this time I thought it was I that was holding on, holding everything together…

You, and I, not being the only ones with separation anxiety – it must be known that we’ve all felt it in the past; we’ve all gone through it as children, and as adults. Most everyone, this separation anxiety. I am always the one to let go first. I always leave. This time I didn’t want to, yet I felt forced by the powers that be. It took me years, but I finally gave in. I have let you go. It is done. I see your hand grasping for me, and finally dropping down by your side, also giving in. It must be, because the powers of the universe demanded it long ago, and it took us this long to see it. Your destiny is now complete. Now you can be free. Free of me. I am also free of you. We are free, together, by being fully apart. By letting go, and being completely separate. Whatever fated us together, also fated us toward this end. It was foretold, yet we refused to give in to it for the longest time.

So now, while you sit and cry, going through your separation anxiety, while preparing your way into the future that will be yours, and yours alone, I sit and write, and go through a different kind of anxiety. One subdued, while learning to trust in knowledge of knowing, and realizing the gut that shows baggage can truly be shed, and that hearts can mend, and trust again.

I just pray that the man who holds me now, will hold me until the end of time in grace and love, and not let me go the way I have let you go. I pray he holds me tightly, forever, and that neither of us (he and I) ever have to feel this kind of separation anxiety again. Even more so it is my greatest wish that I don’t let go of him the way I have to you. He will not let me go if I tried. This is why I am here. This is why if I feel any old-wound pangs of temporary separation anxiety, nudged from the past, but that do not belong in the present, and refuse to enter the future, that they will fade, because I shall choose to sit by him and not leave him alone. I have learned this lesson only recently; to stay… to find compassion that wipes away separation anxiety in one single stroke. So easily it was felt and realized. Such grace upon my life now. It falls upon me like a soft, warm blanket being spread out over my soul and within my entire being.

Separation anxiety no longer has a place here. The wounds are old, and healed, and none of life’s blunt strikes can open it asunder. The lives affected move on and see new growth, new life, and new power. New love brings separation anxiety to its knees, and the karmic end to our (your and my) life together has closed a hole in time that was overdue. It is done. Separation anxiety no more.

CRYING

2012-01-15T01:20:00.001-08:00

Kenny was such a cute little baby, but he was so sensitive and cried easily, even if someone just looked cross at him. Later, as he grew, he learned to hold his emotions inside and not show them as much because people called him a “cry-baby.” He was so sensitive that he would cry at the drop of a hat, yet he had a hard time controlling him when it hit him. He didn't like being a cry-baby.

Kenny's birthday was all he dreamed it would be, except for that one thing that happened that day... he cried. It was his 8th year on this earth, and somehow, he felt, it was supposed to be his special day. Yet he was disappointed in his party, and that the friends he enjoyed most could not come. His mom yelled at him for crying, “Boys shouldn't cry,” which made things worse. He felt inadequate for crying on his birthday.

Kenny, at age 12, was hit by a baseball bat in the groin, and again, he cried. This was a pain like no other pain he had ever felt. Kenny fell to the ground, coiled up in a ball, holding what was left of his balls, nearly fainting from the agony. He noticed only that a single kid was laughing at him, but then shut his eyes, squeezing out tears, unable to see anything else. He hated crying.

Kenny, later went by the name Ken, since he was 16 and much too old to be called by nicknames. His first real, deeply felt crush, Jennifer, was the talk of the town... although she had been rather homely in her younger years, everyone remarked how she had blossomed both in physical beauty, with rounded curves, as well as in mental smarts. Ken decided to grab his courage and asked Jennifer out, but she declined him, and his heart sunk instantly to the pit of his stomach, and down to the lowest part of his belly. Feeling rejected, he went to the bathroom stall to get away from prying eyes, where he cried silently, ashamed of his own tears.

Ken, at age 30, sat at his dad's bedside, watching as his father had wasted away to skin and bones. The cancer had taken his livelihood, and later the rest of his health, as well as his dignity. Ken felt so helpless, so powerless to change what had occurred over the years to his gentle-natured father, and he felt it was not fair. Life was not fair; it was not what he expected it should be, and people, as well as professional people, were simply not as reliable as they made out. He was angry, and sad. As his father took his last breath, Ken held him in his arms. Ken cried, and cried. On and off, Ken cried for years, and his sadness overcame his abilities to suppress crying. He felt like a girl because of crying so easily and so much.

Ken met Katheryn at age 42, and they hit it off immediately. Having been single for much of his life, with short and long-term girlfriends coming and going over time, he was ready for what Kathryn brought to his life. They just loved being together. She touched his life and heart like no other. They talked about their future together, and made plans and goals that were part of both of their dreams. One day, as Kathryn wrote him a song and sung it to him, he realized her words of love were so deep and true, and he found himself weeping from sheer happiness! He apologized for crying so easily, as he had always done, but she just held him close and said, “Baby, I love that you can cry, and that you can show me who you really are inside. I am amazed at the beauty of your sensitivity, and love your tears. It is one of the many things that attracted me to you the most.” She kissed his wet face, tasting the salty tears that streamed down his cheek. Her own eyes welled up and they just held each other, smiling and crying together. This changed his values about crying.

Ken realized that crying wasn't so bad after all... it was part of who he was, and it was okay. Crying made him realize his sensitivity actually portrayed him as having great strength of character, and gave him a sense of worth as a man who could relate to people, especially his dearest love. It touched Kathryn in a positive way, and he realized it could touch others, and so from then, forward, Ken chose to cry whenever he felt he needed to, or felt to. Crying was good, necessary, and a welcome release. Crying, he thought, is important.

YOU

2012-01-03T23:42:00.001-08:00

You
my precious man
you melt my heart
smiling wide
silly and goofy
and making me laugh
I adore you...

sweetheart
you fill my soul
with giggles
and millions of cute mouse kisses
making my heart glad

pressing faces
cheek to cheek
arms wrapped
around and around
legs intertwined
we rest
we happily invade
each others space

mushy moments
romantic interludes
Eskimo kisses
rubbing noses
we kiss lips
we hug
we sigh
we coo

happy
and sad
we share alike
supportive words
gentle touch
you cry
and I kiss your tears
and taste their saltiness
we just “be”
together

eyes shut
I kiss your lids
holding you tight
I listen to you breathe
inhale your breath
take in your essence
the beautiful spirit
that is you

friendship
love
partnership
companionship
we have it all
we love the presence
of each other
and our love

my heart rejoices
when you sing
to me
when you touch
and hold me
and tell me
you love me

thank you for loving me...

I love YOU too!

AND CHOOSE I DID

2011-12-01T02:44:00.000-08:00

Sophia winced as an image of loving two men at once filled her head, and the thought of having to choose between them. She breathed deeply to sigh it off as she sat on the back porch facing her territorial view of the hills, which were covered in green firs, hemlocks, and deciduous trees. Houses dotted the valley, and the view just below her porch was of her neighbor’s backyard, complete with a full garden and a small water fountain. She listened to the water fountain pouring water over the rocks and channels, as it recirculated and continued on in an endless and glorious stream. The sun was shining, and Sophia soaked it in as she contemplated the choice before her. “Love is not an easy thing to choose,” she thought.

She got up, pulled the garden hose across her small yard toward the large tree and her potted plants, and turned on the faucet. While spraying her one little fern, a single tomato plant, and a rosemary bush that had provided a few tasty meals already, she contemplated her estranged husband, and all the heartaches she had been through to keep her marriage together despite their distance. She missed him, but there was no amount of watering that would bring him back. He was gone, unreachable. She had moved across the country to heal and get away from all of the legal battles that had broken them apart.

She laid the hose down. “Sophia,” she told herself under her breath, “you’ve already separated from Drew… you really need to start dating or getting out of this house and get a life by now!” Her eyes reached west and spotted the Olympic Mountains in the distance, which lay past Seattle and across the salty water of Puget Sound. It would officially be fall in just over a week, but on the mountain peaks she could still see a little snow left over from the previous winter.

Far seeing was one of her gifts, but this one was disturbing her, because not only could she see the past and how it still affected her, like the cold snow on the mountain tops, but she could also feel the warmth of the sun upon her skin this particular day, which was the present surrounding her and blessing her with its rays, and lighting up the beauty around her. Suddenly the cold seemed far away, and the thoughts of a new love in her life seemed to emanate from an uncertain future… uncertain because she was not sure what she really wanted, or if it was worth the trouble and possible heartache.

Sighing deeply, Sophia picked a small weed flower that was growing beside the porch, and sat down in her camping chair once again. She absentmindedly started picking off the petals… then she caught herself, and started seeing each petal as a different man, alternating between Drew and another “faceless” and “nameless” man whom she thought she would fall in love with in the future, and then have trouble choosing between them. “Drew,” she said, picking off another petal, “or a boyfriend,” she said picking off another petal. She let each petal drop from her fingertips to the wooden porch deck below. “Drew,” another petal plucked off and landed. “My boyfriend,” but this time the petal dropped onto her tennis shoe. She stopped to look down at it. A deep feeling came over her, so trying not to notice, she threw the flower over the side of the deck into the bushes.

The thought of losing her husband completely was scary, as well as the thought of having to choose between a new love and an old love, not knowing what the future may hold for either of these men. “Bah!” Sophia said as she stomped into the house through the back door, “I don’t even know who such a boyfriend might be! I don’t even know if I WANT a boyfriend and have to be faced with that kind of choice!”

She grumbled and decided that getting back onto the computer and Facebooking, as was her favorite pastime, would be a much better choice right now than to think about men, let alone issues such as love. She had been living by herself for over 2 ½ years, with absolutely no interest in men or sex or relationships, so what did she need a man for all of a sudden anyway? She had considered dating, but was she really ready? She dove deep into Facebook and chatted with friends, caught up on the news, and enjoyed conversing with her many friends in her private groups. This was about as social as she liked it to be.

A week later Sophia was Facebooking when she engaged in a conversation with Sherman, one of her many acquaintances in the INFJ (personality type) group. She had been having fun, laughing out loud, and upon saying something she couldn’t even remember, she noticed he messaged her in private. Their conversation was so natural, and flowed so well together, that hours passed before she knew it. The next day they chatted in private again, and then he asked if he could call her on the phone. They talked for over two hours, and she found herself enjoying every minute of it!

The third night, she had a dream about him, and although nothing of any particular significance happened—he was just there, present before her in the dream—she realized she instantly understood his spirit at its deepest level. This was a good man, worth knowing, marvelously kind, and who needed to be loved, and was able and willing to give it in return, freely.

Over the next two weeks Sophia and Sherman talked daily, for hours each night, and texted on their cell phones throughout the days. They met up online within their Facebook group, and on private messaging, and also emailed each other. Their mutual desire to communicate and be in touch overrode any desire to request their own space. They absolutely enjoyed their conversations and time together, talked about business ventures, dreams and goals, and even about past relationships and their expectations and experiences in love.

Sherman’s lease was up, and his job was ending, so he applied for a new job that he got within a two-hour drive of Sophia; therefore, he planned to move to be closer to her so they could date in person. Sophia thought this was excellent because he was presently living several states away.

During his move, Sherman came through Seattle and visited Sophia, and they consummated their relationship by hugging upon meeting face to face, going shopping together, and finally, when arriving at her house, by him taking her into his arms and kissing her. Her heart melted! His touch was so gentle, and his demeanor so sweet, that she found herself falling in love that much easier. She had seen many pictures of him, but this was really when she noticed that their eyes were the same blue-gray color, and that they both had similar shades of brown hair, yet he was thin and she was pear-shaped. Sherman particularly liked the roundness of her bum and how her smile lit up when he said he loved her, and she was attracted to the way his eyes sparkled and how he could make faces and cause her to laugh a lot.

Sherman moved into his home and started his job, and they continued their relationship over the months, visiting each other as often as possible—every week or three—while video-chatting every night, which made it feel as if they were in the same room, live, making their actual distance seem negligible. When together, they would go to dances with friends, visit family, go swimming, skating, to the movies, and would make plans and talk about the future.

Sophia got a job, which came to her through a headhunter, in the exact same field of work—financial planning—that Sherman had gone into, and so they found their business goals coincided, and overlapped, just as so many other things in their lives did. However, they purposefully did not talk about the fact that she was still married, which actually bothered him a lot because he knew he wanted to be married one day. Although, neither of them were in a hurry, and she nor he knew whether their relationship would stay the same over the long haul, although the longer they were together, the better it felt.

One day, Sophia and Sherman took a walk in the park, and she spotted a little late-blooming flower. She suddenly realized that she had become so enraptured by Sherman’s attentions that she almost forgot about being separated from her estranged husband. Well, it had been on her mind, but since they were separated, it wasn’t an issue. But this little flower spoke to her very soul, because a single petal fell off and dropped, floating gently down, down, down… she shut her eyes, afraid to see where it landed. She realized that if things continued between her and Sherman, that she would have to choose soon whether she wanted to continue with him, or whether she wanted to try to get back with Drew. She realized she was already deeply in love with both men. Her intuition had fruited.

Her heart broke, and she took off running up the grassy knoll to the great oak tree near the middle of the park. Sherman ran after her, “What’s wrong dear? Are you okay?” Sophia, for the first time, felt a lump in her throat, and she didn’t know what to say. How could she choose between two men she loved? How could she let go, completely, of either of them, when she knew she could not have them both?

But suddenly—with that single thought of realizing she WOULD NOT ever have them both—it became easy to choose. Drew represented her past, and the love that was there, which had been broken apart when the legal case destroyed their family, their relationship, and their togetherness. The future was uncertain, although if she chose to wait, it most certainly would happen for them again one day, but years down the road. Sherman represented the present, and also hope for the future, and was someone she could hold and love now, and potentially for a very long time. She did not know the future, nor did she want to know. She only knew one thing. She had to make a choice, and choose she did!

“I’m okay honey,” she whispered to Sherman under the tree, its great branches reaching out over them like a protector, “I just realized something…” Her voice trailed off; he looked at her expectantly. She sat quietly for a very long moment, which seemed to Sherman to be forever. Finally, Sophia sighed a huge sigh of relief, reached over and grabbed a leaf from a twig, and dropped it over his head. It fluttered down, a slight breeze catching it and pushing it sideways, then it twisted back again, finally landing softly on his foot. Sherman was perplexed as to what she was doing.

“The universe has made it clear long ago, but I was too scared to see the signs,” Sophia insisted. She reached over to kiss his desirable lips, and she took him in her arms, as he responded in kind, holding her closely, tightly. “I have been loving two men at the same time, and I realized I had to choose between you and Drew… and choose I did!”

“Whom did you choose?” His voice trembled, almost afraid of her next words.

“I choose you.”

“You choose me?” Almost disbelief, yet great relief.

“Yes, I choose you. For whatever reason, the universe gave me Drew, but then took him away. I hung on for so long, waiting, but not one single thing has gone right in order for us to stay together. In the end, I realized that I had to move on, but it was so hard. When faced with the actual moment I had been dreading, where I had to give the final say on who to choose, I realized that it was not a hard decision at all, but easy.”

“Why was it easy?”

Sophia looked at the leaf that still lied flat on Sherman’s foot, reached down, and grabbed it, rolling its stem back and forth between her forefinger and thumb, causing it to spin delicately. She looked up into his eyes. “Because heartache… (sigh)… heartache has been replaced with grace, and love, and a peace that enters me when I am with you.”

The two lovers hugged, and kissed under the great oak tree, until the sun set about 45 minutes later.

When it was time to leave, Sophia took the leaf home and put it into a book to press it.

“Yes,” she said to herself, “and choose I did…”

2 MARRIAGES, 3 LOVES

2011-11-30T19:49:00.000-08:00

Love and Loss, Love and Loss again, and finally Love…

Reflecting on the timeline of my life…

I am now 41 years old. Since age 16, when I first became a mom, I had experienced two marriages where one was on paper only (for legality’s sake), and the other was a mistake (trying to provide for my baby with the wrong person). I was young. Stupid. We live and learn. I don’t count these as anything but lessons learned. I no longer count them as “marriages.” They are gone… POOF! (These don’t count except as the original “4 MARRIAGES” writing mentioned below.)

Since age 21, when I met the man who would be the father of my children (and who raised my first son as his own), I was deeply in love. Yet the marriage had its problems, and after 10 years we divorced (when I was 33). It was a sad day, because I still loved him, but had always questioned whether it was mutual. The choices we made were not always the best ones. We learned, and today we live far apart, yet still co-parent our children. It is a beautiful thing. I am happy with this relationship as it is today, and grateful for the years we had together, and even more thankful for our children, who I am so proud of! There are many qualities in this “first” husband and still remember loving. I grew emotionally because of that relationship.

Then, when I met the man who would be the “husband and lover side of God” in my life, and would love me like no other had previously, it was easy to fall in love and stay in love. A dream and premonitions, and foretelling of events abounded in our lives, and brought us together. I dreamt of the desert greening up and rivers flowing through it. It was two years of bliss before things changed… before the vision commenced. I grew intellectually, and learned that I was worthy of being loved, through that relationship.

Then other circumstances of fate, much out of our control (the biggest premonition I had had in my life!), ripped us apart, much against our will, and tore into our life like a rabid dog from out of nowhere. The wreck of our lives was left to the winds. I woke up one day, after it was all over (the fight of our lives, which took 2 2/3rds years to go from the inciting incident to the climax) with my soul shattered like a clay vessel, and I had to try to pick up the pieces, but I remained in only one of them. Since then, I had to pull back, and reflect, and fully realize my loss, and begin to heal.

It took another year and a half before I realized I needed to get completely away from the very one I loved, in order to heal, because everything about him, and the lives we had to live apart, reminded me of the circumstances that led to that demise. I moved across the country, got a crappy job, and started over. It has been hard, but through circumstances of amazing synchronicity, and the love of my new friends, and being in nature, and surrounded by beauty (the VERY reason I moved, to have beauty and love and peace FILL my life) I have found the place I love to be.

I didn’t try to heal; I simply allowed it.

I learned to love just being ME, and realized what that meant, and who I am. I was completely alone, yet very connected. I had found my bliss. I was not perfect, and that was okay, because that was what it was really all about… full acceptance, wherever and however you are. The kind of depth of love we are willing to give to others, but rarely ourselves… to experience it directly from within, until it emanates without.

The timeline of my healing from the last two marriages, and those two loves, has led me toward a third love.

My latest writings (see below), this year (2011), showed the process of letting go of my last love (my 2nd real husband), pulling back, and finally letting go for good, in order to move forward into new territory…

May 22: CHOICES IN LOVE – What choice do we have when our lives are not our own? When those we love are taken from us? When we lose them, yet still yearn for them? We may not have the choice to control everything, but we can choose to love.

May 23: FOR YOU NOT TO YOU – I let him go, and it was for the best. In order to save him, I had to let him go fully. My thoughts were still on some last kind of ditch attempt to save him from these horrid circumstances. But would it work? Would it be in vain?

May 25: ARCHETYPES STORY – The story of what happened, how, and why. What our life was like during the torrid life we lived during “the case” that ensued into our lives. The legal case became the dry heat of the sandy desert chapping our lips, drying out our bones, leaving us to waste away in the blazing sun, with the blatant lie of “sex offender” written upon the nearby rock that would serve as the unofficial tombstone of our marriage and family. All the greenery that had grown within me disappeared as if global warming had concentrated its efforts solely on our lives.

June 10: WHO UNDERSTANDS? – My resolve to write the book about our story despite the crap it dredges up.

June 15: AT ONE YEAR – Having separated from my husband a month before, I realized that love does not conquer all, and that loving the self brings peace.

I am inclined to have premonitions and dreams that come true, yet I was having none. Nor did I want any. Still, I had a gentle nudging inside, a feeling, or knowing, which I could envision myself in love with someone, and saw myself having to choose between my estranged husband, and some new guy who might in my life (if I so chose). I tried to suppress this feeling.

July 15: SEPARATION – The realization hits that letting him go in order to “save him” may not have been the best reason to separate from a loved one. Yet the universe demanded it, and I listened… yet did not know why it had to be this way.

July 18: REBOUNDING – Wanting to date after moving on, yet still choosing to be alone. (I had let someone know I liked them, but was rejected; so being alone was better than that. Next, I relapsed/rebounded with my estranged husband due to depression from the loss of my job and not being able to find a new one… in my hour of desperation and loneliness I ended my separation with him… instantly regretting doing so, yet I stuck with the decision a while longer anyway, to ride it out and see where it would go. Inside I knew that I should not have done it.)

July 27: SOMETIMES – Peace without expectations for the future. This is a lovely place to be…

August 23: 4 MARRIAGES – My thoughts on my previous relationships, and my last marriage, figuring that having something to hope in that was far away, unreachable, and impossible was idealistically better than having nothing by myself, here and now, or facing changes in the future. (The thought of a 5th marriage one day scared the living daylights out of me, because I felt like a complete failure for having so many, so clung to the idea of staying in the 4th one where it was “safe” and no change, or risk, was necessary… yet I could still picture myself with a new partner in life again someday and felt that if I let go and accepted that possibility in my life it would probably happen. Clinging to the past is not always the best decision.)

By the end of August I decided I should start randomly dating. Change was inevitable. To live single the rest of my life (whether married or divorced), and to remain Sharon “Cornet” forever, seemed like a good idea at the time. I had absolutely zero dating prospects in my line of sight.

Then came the turning point… Sept. 16 I started talking to a man from our online Facebook group whom I had known as an acquaintance for many months, whom suddenly messaged me in private, triggered by our developing conversation that particular evening. We hit it off instantly. I had NO EXPECTATIONS so this budding relationship was a complete surprise outside of my simple “inner knowing” based on me being able to envision myself in a new relationship and in love. I had no idea if this was it. I did not want to know. I did not want label it, or put it into a box, or develop expectations beyond what it was meant to be, in time. Before I met my last husband, I had had dreams, and also put in my own criteria and said prayers, asking for certain things. Through him I got them all (except that one thing). This time around, I wanted it to be completely up to the universe to decide for me. The best gifts are brought into our lives this way.

September 25: ITS COMPLICATED – This fictional writing was highly inspired by a conversation I had with a friend that I had lost contact with over the years, but knew since I was 14 yrs old. He made me realize that I needed to move on in life, without my husband, and go forward, for me. This was another turning point, where I realized I would need to make a decision.

My new guy and I became fast friends, and were planning business ventures together, and since he would be moving soon anyway, he chose to move closer to me. A job brought him within about 2 hours of where I lived, so we got to meet face to face, spend some real time together, and we were able to solidify the relationship we had already been developing. We were now officially boyfriend and girlfriend, although we counted it from the time we “met” 2 weeks earlier (even though we sort of “met” online many months before).

September 25: SOME DAY – Some day I may unite again with my last husband, but not knowing if/when that day will come, and what our relationship will be like by then, it is now allowing my heart to be filled by another in his stead.

I now was ready to make a final choice I had been slowly making all along. It was not just about the two men I loved simultaneously, but about loving myself first… making the best choice for my family and for me in alignment with what the universe had been telling me all along. I made the choice between the two men, and it was not the one I expected or had been in my plans for so long. Yet it felt right. The universe had given me a husband and then had taken him away. EVERY sign and power in the universe had removed all control and ability and said, “Now you have him. Now you don’t,” and in the same voice added the addendum, “This is what love tastes like, but I have something even better in store for you!” Grace was upon my life. My response was finally to accept that. The ending of one thing (loss) is the beginning of another (gain).

October 9: THERE IS A PLACE – The first writing inspired by my new boyfriend, because he is so kind and treats me so well.

October 12: I AM SUNSTAR – Full realization of what I am here to do, and what I am capable of. For me, I chose to move forward and grow my life into a new reality, rather than try to put back the old, broken life. This was KEY in choosing my new love over my old love.

November 29: MOVING FORWARD – A fictional piece, based on fact (the direct quote is something I say occasionally to people who do things that I cannot decide are brave, or stupid, or both, depending… but in reality I never used this quote for my last husband (nor would I ever speak to him like that, in that kind of circumstance), but have said it to a friend or two before, in the right situation, or about other people).

November 30: 2 MARRIAGES 3 LOVES – (this writing)… I loved and lost, then loved and lost again, but am now going forward, into new, uncharted territory, without a fateful premonition except the one “knowing” where I would allow myself to love again, and have to choose between the two men I loved (my estranged husband, and my new boyfriend)… and choose I did!

MOVING FORWARD

2011-11-29T17:25:00.000-08:00

I kissed him one last time, directly on his soft lips…

His hazel eyes met mine as I pulled back to see his face in full view.
I noticed the gleam in his eye, and realized he still loved me,
Yet somehow we knew that it was the last kiss we would have.

He took my hands, and leaned in to kiss me again, but I pulled back,
“You’re either brave, or stupid, one!”
He laughed to hide the seriousness of the moment, which he saw on my face.

I couldn’t do it anymore… the love holding me there.
I had to move on, upwards, forward.
Away.

The past issues had held me back for so long,
Weighing me down like an anchor dragging the sea bottom,
But no more.

I grabbed my keys and jacket, turned, and walked away from him.
I realized the smile on his face was gone, and that I caused it,
Yet I did not stop walking forward…

I merely said goodbye without a glance back in his direction.

I would always love him, I knew, but we simply could not be together.
Not like that, not like that ever again.
Not ever.

He was where he had to be, and I was where I had to be.
Apart. For good.
Only as friends would we ever be united, but no longer as lovers.

My heart had moved on, and I was in love with someone else now.

Someone whom had come to me, whom I met face to face,
Cheek to cheek, lips upon lips, and heart to heart.

Someone whom I would walk side by side with in life,
From this point on.

I knew it was time to move forward, hand in hand, and not look back.

LOVING YOURSELF

2011-11-08T00:52:00.003-08:00

My friend, you say that loving others is easy, and a deep commitment for you, but that loving yourself is the life lesson you still need to learn. To love someone so deeply that you fear losing them, so that you withhold yourself from them, is a common reaction. I used to be this way, To. A. Tee.

I must say it is a dark road, and all it wound up having me do was to withdraw to the point that if I couldn't feel as loved as I needed/required, then I would wind up letting go of the relationship. I have been married multiple times because my love was far more intense, and yet I was the one who pulled away first. Be careful of this.

It wasn't until my last husband whom—having a similar personality to mine—loved me deeply, yet life's circumstances kept us apart, and we had a tragedy in our lives, so deep and disturbing that I could not bare who I saw myself as being in that circumstance (I was highly suicidal and self-loathing was profound).

What I learned is that I had to, unfortunately, lose proximity to that man who loved me as no other had, and distance myself from everything that the circumstances reminded me of, in order to heal. Self-love has been coming since then (especially this year), and I now know my worth, my value, with or without someone who cares or sees me for the real me. It matters not if they know.

I KNOW. That is all that matters.

It is unlikely anyone could ever truly know every deep particle of my soul, just as you cannot be known (by *most* others) as deeply as you know yourself... but you CAN love yourself, every part, every piece, in the most holistic way you are able. By doing so you will be more forgiving, and accepting, and yes, it will improve your ability to love others, even though you already know how.

I find myself having a vast amount of peace and joy in my life, despite that my life is still recuperating from the issues of the past. I am now in a wonderful relationship with a man (also with a similar personality as mine) whom brings to me the most amazing and genuine love, with a gentleness and acceptance that exceeds my most amazing dreams. Yet we are still human, both of us, and so we just go forward, one day at a time, and love sincerely.

I think that letting go of expectations has helped tremendously... just enjoying life, and your significant other, and what you share (rather than worrying about what you lack). It's a matter of what you focus on, my dear friend; you are worthy of being loved, and yes, loving the self is the key to realizing that who you are is so much more, and needs to be so much less, than how you view yourself at this insignificant moment in time.

Years from now, you will see this more clearly. It is very hard for me to explain.

Just BREATHE, relax, and enjoy!!!

Loving yourself should be that easy.

I AM SUN STAR

2011-10-12T02:57:00.000-07:00

I am a sun star
Although I have gone by the name
SunStarAngel, for 11 years
Only tonight did I learn its true meaning
What a sun star really is and can do
At least, I never remembered this before
I suddenly realize its amazing synchronicity
In meaning for my life
After so much loss, and PTSD
A broken spirit where a vessel shattered
I survived in only one of the remaining pieces
The main body piece, all the rest gone from me

Trauma, to a spiritual leader, a shaman
Is what causes soul loss, loss of our beingness
Pieces of ourselves that disengage, dissociate
And leave us separated from ourselves and others
A journey of meditation and prayer
Of visions and spirit guides can bring back these pieces
But they come back muted, lacking in growth
So need to be nurtured to develop and catch up
To make the person whole again
But not for me, for I am a sun star
My broken pieces will not be mended
My soul loss will be transformed another way

Shamanism is the only near-universal
Non-organized religion in the world
The abilities people carry through life
Or learn, or develop, or enhance through beliefs
Are innate, from within, originating in our DNA
Shaped by environment, experiences, culture
It is a universal human condition
To have spiritual gifts, to see and know things
Which promotes survival, and life
Life also brings loss, trauma, depression, anxiety, death
Yet new growth brings mobility, like the sun star
This is a lesser known innate ability

Understand the mystery, the science
The sun star is a starfish predator
With arms of 5, 13, even 24, called rays
Rays break off, and fall away forever
Not meant to be reattached
The loss regenerates to new life
New growth, new rays to walk on, to hold on
Self-proclaiming power, and ability
Growth from out of the self like magick
Yet it is designed this way, the self-healer
Doing what most cannot do, or will not try
Loss of soul need not be found, but grown

I am sun star, in the reef of life
In water of emotions deep and blue
Moving faster than other starfish
An invertebrate, seemingly no spine
An echinoderm, unique, largest of them all
Eating even squids, bi-valves, even crabs
Stronger than those with shells
Wiser than those with shields
Faster than those who run to escape
I eat them for dinner, for they are my prey
My grip is fierce, overcoming them
Loss of rays, but growing more than is lost

I am sun star… I choose life and growth
Sun stars are found in the PNW and nearby
Intertidal flats and reefs abound with life
Diversity and hues of color encompass here
Where water and land meet is the seashore
West to water, North to land, the quarters be
The gateway to life and living is in my rays
Reaching out, touching, gripping, crushing, feeding
Where enemies who fight break me loose
And fear and loss are inevitable and synonymous
Fate and free will become fancies of notion
When a sun star foresees what is to come

I am sun star…

THERE IS A PLACE

2011-10-09T23:44:00.000-07:00

There is a place I go for SAFETY
Where I know everything will be okay
When life knocks me down

There is a place I go for STRENGTH
Where I know I can count on answers
Or even just an ear to listen

There is a place I go for GENTLENESS
Where I know my soul is in good hands
And I can breathe and feel peace

There is a place I go for ACCEPTANCE
Where I know I am honored
And not judged or made unworthy

There is a place I go for FORGIVENESS
Where I know my deeds count
Yet are not the sum of who I am

There is a place I go for LOVE
Where I know I am wanted
And desired beyond words

There is a place I go for ME
Where I know my worth alone
And am happy that I am no longer lonely

There is a place I go….

And that place is part of YOU…

This place is within your heart…

And I am happy to reside here.

IT'S COMPLICATED

2011-09-25T17:11:00.001-07:00

“It’s Complicated” is what my friend asked about – it has been listed as my relationship status on Facebook for a few months now.

“Yes, it’s complicated,” I said. “Why?” he asked. “Because I’ve been living apart from my husband for 2 ½ years.” “Why?” he asked again with a confused look on his face.

So I told him why, but only after he insisted that it was weird to be married, living apart, for that long, and that it should have ended in the big “D” (divorce) already.

“Yes,” I agreed, “statistically, about 80% of marriages in situations like mine end up in divorce within the first couple or so years.”

“So why are you still not divorced?”

“Because I love him.”

I choked on the next response, because every cell in my body knew how hard it was to spit out the reasons why. “He’s in prison for a crime he did not commit.”

“I’m sorry,” he responded, “You’re a good person; I can’t imagine what that has been like for you.”

“I tried to separate completely a few months ago, but after two months I felt so guilty – like kicking a man when he is already down – and missed him too much.”

“But you need to take care of yourself; what about your needs?”

“I’m very independent and don’t mind being alone… most of the time. But financially it has been extremely hard.”

“You have a life to live, and sometimes it has to be about you.”

“I don’t know… it’s all very confusing at times, and so darn complicated that I don’t know what’s the best thing to do.” I looked down at the floor, pondering my own words.

“So how will it be when y’all are back together?”

“We may be two very different people, yet still the same. We write often, but I cannot afford the phone calls because the company that monitors the prison system phones costs so much.”

“I could only imagine…” His voiced trailed off.

“I’m afraid I made a mistake in some ways, by telling him I will not have any dates in the future, because I’ve been thinking that I should go out and do things with people more often. However, I risk falling in love again if I do that.”

“You’ve got to take care of you at some point in time.”

I stood there quietly, and did not respond.

“Like I said, you’re a good woman. Don’t think I could do it, or expect someone to do it for me.”

I questioned who had more selfishness in this situation… me for considering the alternative to waiting several more years for him to get out on parole, or him for wanting me to wait that long.

“Well, it’s complicated...”

But I knew it did not have to be.

SOME DAY

2011-09-25T12:57:00.001-07:00

Oh what wane the heart dost feel
When you canst be near to me

What depth of love grabs our hearts
Yet the distance sheds its hands

Among men you are mighty and proud
Yet the chains shackle it to the dungeons

Alone we trod, together, apart
Until the day returns our own sun

None can try to fill your shoes
Yet some may wear others in place

Until the time of weeping in love
We go, we stay, we move forward

Our separate paths dost keep the way
As we hope they may cross yet again

Some day… some day…

4 MARRIAGES

2011-08-23T02:52:00.000-07:00

I don't think I could survive another marriage.

Four is enough.

Can I even count the first one, on paper, where I never lived with him, because I was 15 and pregnant?

I almost backed out of the second one but my baby was a year old and needed a daddy, and I felt like I was a financial burden to my parents, so I married out of some sick sense of obligation... too embarrassed at age 17 to back out.

The third one lasted 10 years, but I earned every hard year and paid the price of a broken heart, and depression, in order to make it that far; yet I knew it was meant to be... the father of my children--even the one that was not his and still calls him dad.

This last one has been the hardest of all, because the love that has been given has been so true, so very deep, and yet we were ripped apart due to circumstances out of our control, which has been more than we could bear... yet we had to bear it anyway.

I hold on to that love, despite the distance of time and space, despite the odds, despite the lies perpetrated by those working within an uncaring and relentless system... despite the structural violence that victimizes the victims and harms the children, even to the point of violating the legal victims rights (not privilege) that is guaranteed to all but denied to my family.

This marriage, with the greatest potential, has been the most challenging of all. I stay the course, and choose love, because the alternative is unthinkable; and because so many parts of me have died already, that I know there is not enough left to survive if I were to do it all over again. This is the one that was meant to last.

One day... one day all will be different... and the organized crime of the cold machine of the powers that be will no longer be able to squelch the truth, the love, the victory that will be ours.

Why try to survive another marriage another relationship, another failure, when the one I have is yet still intact, despite how it looks on the outside?

They can restrain our bodies, lock us up, shackle our freedom, destroy our livelihood, steal our home, rip us all apart from each other, steal our sanity and health and peace of mind, and even put damaging labels on us--indicative of their slander, libel, and defamation--but they cannot kill our spirits. Even if they kill our bodies they cannot have our spirits. They cannot remove our love, or our choice after their timed part is over, nor can they shut the mouth of a child they harmed who will one day grow into an adult who is destined to bring to light their own karma, which shall seek its own vengeance back upon them via her words of truth. We shall live to see that day. We shall survive it, as it was foretold.

I cannot survive another marriage, because the one I have is worthy of the love that is imbedded within it, perfused and permeated by it.

One is alone, two is double trouble, three is completion, but four is perfection.
I will not leave ("survive") this marriage. Four is enough.

Perfection is LOVE... the love we share that stands the test of time, and survives the space in between.

Separation is not an option; it is a requirement for growth.

Love, here, is realized, accepted, and respected.

Love here returns us to life, forgiveness, healing, wholeness, and brings us home.

It is time to go home.

SCIENCE & RELIGION

2011-08-13T02:42:00.000-07:00

There have often been debates in fundamentalist Christian circles about not being able to reconcile science with religion, or vice versa. I was told, recently, about the geology not being reliable because of the "arrogance of academia" and how fallible it is. Yet, engineering (math) is not seen as that, by many of these same people (or so it seems). This is my response to that position.

As far as geology is concerned, it is a science, just as the knowledge we have of engineering is (hence, why we have engineering science, engineering physics, hydrology (a mix of geology and engineering)). It is information that is studied, researched, collected, analyzed, critiqued, presented, critiqued by colleagues some more, updated, expanded, analyzed and critiqued again, updated, and so this is the methodology of science, on and on, constantly improving over time with new information or evidence or mathematical equations (like Einstein's E=mc2). If someone got a degree through academia in engineering, then would we think that the degree is bogus and untrue and so incredibly fallible because of its academic origins? It would get him the education the person needs to get a good paying job and support their family, proving its worth, yet by default by the argument would imply that a different person's geology degree is inferior because it comes from the same source... "arrogant academia." This is illogical, and a double standard, IMHO.

People are able to communicate (and even argue LOL) long distance via these amazing scientific things called electrons and the virtual reality of computer systems, all that are part of the "arrogant" scientific community who discovered and invented it all; and yes, they are so wrong that we cannot even bother to buy their stuff they create, let alone use it. I speak tongue in cheek, obviously. We go to the moon, to space, have lasers and technological weapons that are so powerful that it is scary, yet we dare call it inferior compared to our religion? I am not talking about God or spirituality, but religion and dogma (most know the difference). Regarding the claimed arrogance (or even ignorance) of academia as a whole, it would be an Argument by Generalization, considered one of the many logical fallacies. Basically, a broad-sweeping stereotype of a group or type, in essence.

I predict that spirituality and science--if either are ever to be true--eventually and ultimately, will be as one superimposed on the other, meaning that one will point to the other, and prove each other out. If not, then we have to question if either are true in and of themselves. If the belief is true that God created all, and all spirituality comes through him/her, and (s)he created the laws of physics and all that we know about in science, then there can be no "wrong" in learning more about his/her creation and how (s)he made it.

The real question is... What church is claiming that it is a SIN to learn about their God's earth by taking a geology class? If they claim the science of geology is "wrong" (inferior to their dogma) then that is exactly what they are doing. In time, as science continues to expand and change and grow (as we do, spiritually - there is no such thing as anything completely static or stale), this will prove out on its own... in fact, it already is, little by little.

For instance, Christians around the world used to believe that the cosmos was geocentric (sun revolved around the earth) rather than heliocentric (earth/planets revolve around the sun). Science proved this wrong, the early Christians called it heresy, but in time people "got it" and understood the bigger picture, agreeing with science. Unless someone is a flat-earther, and still thinks that the "four corners of the earth" mentioned in the Bible refers to an actual square, flat earth shape, then there is hope for humanity reconciling science with their religious views about the world and how it was all made. Enlightenment of this kind is almost always assumed with great opposition (at first).

You will find this interesting... There is an old lesson from the ancient Greek and other mythologies from times past, and it is true in the church system today, as well as the criminal justice system, the political system, and many other of mankind's systems. It is the same story told over and over... where the gods of yesterday, who were revered, were later replaced by newer, younger, more powerful gods, and so the older gods were "demonized" and so their view in the eyes of the people changed over time... first loving the old gods, and then later hating them. You can actually witness it--the transformation--by reading old literature on mythology. It is an archetypal story as well. Very interesting stuff! It is something you can see for yourself through the ancient scripts and texts and stories, changed over time. Always, when one person, or god, or system, or power sees another person/god/system/power that it feels threatened by, it attempts to remove that power in the eyes of their followers, by demonizing it.

The protestant church system does this very thing even today regarding Judaism, claiming that the God of the OT (Old Testament) was a God of punishment, always bringing destruction to people and whole cities of people (Sodom and Gomorrah comes to mind, as does Jonah, etc.), and that the Jews are all about upholding the LAW (Ten Commandments, and their rituals), and that the God of the NT (New Testament) supersedes the letter of the law because it is "reformed" through Jesus Christ because now God chooses love and forgiveness and the living Word over punishment, and that ALL people have the right to go to heaven if they believe, because Jesus absolutely will forgive them of ALL their sins if they repent and believe. The Jewish system of faith (remembering Jesus was a Jew and LIVED by the Jewish ways and lifestyle, completely) is now "demonized" (made to look bad) in order to promote the resurrected Son of God and faith in him now, today, in the new way as opposed to the old. I grew up being fed this stuff by spoonfuls at church, that Jews were outright WRONG because they didn't accept Christ, even though they still worshiped the same God as we did. By demonizing the old way, it reinforces the belief in the new. I'm sure you know all of this already, but there's more...

Additionally, the fundamentalist church systems today see scientific knowledge as a threat to their age-old belief systems of a literal interpretation of the Bible (young earth creationism, dinosaurs actually fitting on the ark, etc., specifically), and so they demonize the scientific community in order to remove the power they have in the eyes of their own church community, so the church doesn't lose the power over the individuals who support them financially, and in their quest for proselytizing, or whatever else their agenda is (even if their only agenda is to help people, have an honest following or congregation, etc.). Demonization is the key. This is something you can witness for yourself within the religious community, the many books and pamphlets, articles and reports, websites and paraphernalia that is available almost everywhere. In order to seemingly support one's own agenda, it absolutely *must* demonize its apparent "enemy" and make it into an enemy, even if it is NOT really an enemy at all. In the right light, one sees this clearly.

What I have shown you here is merely a pattern. A pattern of human behavior that is quite predictable throughout time, simply because we are human, and fear and "hatred" is learned, usually through the context of our culture at the time, just as the Greeks did with their gods and goddesses. I'm sure you already recognize this pattern.

Dare I say that fundamentalist Christian's own disgust with academia is not necessarily their own... it was inherited by those around them, who taught it to them. The same information is parroted over and over and over until it becomes part of their psyche. Or did they have a very personal and negative experience with all of academia that made them feel this way, personally? Unless the latter is true, then it is most likely their enculturation talking. An opinion that they have heard so much that it became their own.

Do you see it? I think most do.

As you watch for these patterns you will begin to notice this same trend of demonizing something that *appears* as an enemy, and you will see clearly, with absolute certainty, that it is a method, a means to an end. Only you (the observer) can determine what that end is, but you will know it when you see it. It will come in time, as you see the many signs all around you. The spirit of this "demonization of science" by the church will haunt you until one day it passes through, and then you will know the truth of it. Not because of anything written here, but because you have seen it with your own eyes, and will feel it in your gut, and you will know it to be true within. At that point, there will be no turning back to 'not knowing' what you will then know.

The demonization of the "perceived" enemy is an ancient war tactic, and a way to control the masses, akin to the logical fallacy called a Straw Man argument, which is a part of the Red Herring fallacy. But that gets into philosophical issues beyond the scope of seeing the pattern itself, which is the whole point here.

If the individual Christian who believes such demonizing antics is strong in spirit, and up to the challenge, and a truth seeker (as opposed to one who thinks they already know the truth) they may take a college-level geology class and ask ALL the questions they can to see the other side, and see if it is "all that" or if there is truth there in the hate-agenda of the church. Then they can decide for themselves, rather than letting the church systems, and their paraphernalia and propaganda, do their thinking for them.

The demonizing of science by organized religions (specifically fundamentalists of (m)any religion(s)) is a common pattern, just as it was ages ago, when it was a FACT that the earth was still flat, and the sun revolved around it.

DISCLAIMER: I am not picking on Christianity as a whole, only delineating the fundamentalist view of the "YEC's" (Young Earth Creationist's), and suggesting a college-level education (secular) rather than a constant diet of anti-science agendas by those who obviously do not want to lose their members. I also have no intention of allowing this blog to become a place to "debate" this issue. It is for informational purposes only, and hopefully an inspiration to those who are still searching and not "completely happy" with the "truth" they presently know (or think they know).

ZOMBIE APOCA-LAPSE

2011-08-07T19:48:00.000-07:00

Author: Sharon Cornet

Photo: Toni McConaughie

Terry took his long sword and grasped its handle tightly with both hands. He trembled and shook as he mentally prepared himself for the door to open. “NOW!” he yelled to Katherine, who turned the door handle slowly, secretly hoping it would magically get stuck shut. The door unlatched. Katherine let it swing open in sync with her slender body as she took a large step back behind it. Terry screamed, “Aaaaaauuuuuugggghhhhhh!!!!!!!” as he ran, sword in tight grip, through the doorway and toward the people headed his way. He never dreamed, this morning, that by noon he would be chopping off the heads of his closest friends in his own front yard.

Katherine slammed the door shut, failing to lock it as she ran to the window, peeking through the curtain to watch. Her breath fogged the window glass as her left hand rubbed against it, making short, bloody, smear marks. The earlier bite from one of their two “friends” outside had done her in, for sure, she thought. Her hand ached, and her body ached even more. She had lost a lot of blood and was feeling weak, and a bit cold. She used her good hand to run her fingers through her long red hair and out of her sweaty face. Katherine was scared, but she watched as Terry, in one fell swoop, sliced through most of the neck of his first and only true best friend. Jacob’s head lopped over and then hung half-sideways, half-upside down, as only a single piece of attached flesh forced it to dangle. Jacob’s bloody, already-gray-colored, decapitated body fell to the ground, flat. He was done. Terry’s eyes began to well up with tears, How did Jacob even become one of them?

Terry heard a moaning to his left. He swiftly turned and instinctively lunged the sword straight into the rib cage of his other friend, Billy. Billy was the smallest – short and skinny – of the three young men, always having needed someone to save him from the neighborhood bullies when they were growing up. Terry had always been his hero. Terry cried out a wail of despair as he realized that he could never save Billy again, not even from himself. Not today. He pushed the sword deeper into Billy’s bosom, piercing through to the other side.

Katherine looked wide-eyed as Terry removed the sword from Billy’s chest and quickly stuck it into his face, penetrating the skull, into what little was left of his brain. Most of it had already been eaten out by other living-dead beings, which is what caused Billy to die the first time. “Why did you have to die?” Terry gasped, letting it escape his lips as more of a whimper. Billy’s body simultaneously fell to the ground as Terry pulled the sword out of the holey skull. Then, with all the strength he had, Terry hit his sword onto Billy’s neck, removing his head, cleanly this time. Chunks of coagulated blood splattered around the grass as Billy’s head rolled over, about eighteen inches away from where it had detached. Billy’s eyes looked straight at Terry, but all life was gone from them; even zombie “life.” He was dead for good this time. The bloody sword fell out of Terry’s weakened hand, hitting the ground with a thud. His knees felt weak as well. His mind, however, was whirling.

Truly dying, to Terry, meant reawakening soon after dying a first time, and being killed again, by way of decapitation. At least, that is what seemed to work to kill these bastards. This intermediate “life” of a zombie was some kind of sick joke, he decided... and the two zombies’ bodies that laid before him, who used to be his best friends, were only a couple of the umpteen thousands, if not millions, suddenly inhabiting the planet. They appeared to be some sort of evil creatures stumbling around in a waking death, whose recent coming were obviously of Biblical proportions. He had been fighting against a couple of dozen or so of these new zombie-like creatures since just after midnight the night before, when he and Katherine had been at the college graduation party. The circumstances had been bizarre, and he was still having trouble wrapping his thoughts around it all.

Katherine, having watched the scene of her boyfriend killing both Jacob and Billy, suddenly felt an extreme coldness come over her, and the aching she had been feeling throughout her body lost its grip on her. She breathed one deep breath, let it out, and then panted, before releasing all tension. She just stood there, by the window, unable to move. She hung her head, and her red, damp hair lay limp like strings of perpetual blood dripping toward the floor; yet nothing was moving.

Terry’s hands felt numb, and his arms limp as Katherine’s hair. He looked up, but only saw a shadow of her form behind the sheer curtain, standing motionless. He heard a soft but low moaning in the distance behind him. Terry turned his head toward the street. More were coming. The urgent feeling inside him told him that he had to do some research now that he was home, “…before they find me,” he surprisingly said out loud to himself. Terry picked up his sword, walked swiftly back to his house, and entered the door to his home, looking over his shoulder one last time. Katherine stood by the window, a mere few feet away from him. Locking the door behind him, he said, “Are you okay?” She moaned, and collapsed in a heap on the floor. “It’s been too much for you,” Terry said aloud as he grabbed a pillow off the couch and shoved it under her head, “You’ll be okay, just rest now.”

Terry double-checked every door and window in the house, making sure everything was locked, and made sure all inside lights were off. He wondered if his parents were okay on their vacation. They had left from their home in rural Missouri to New York a week and a half ago, but he knew they were due back any time. They were even late, he figured. Had they even made their flight home? Was what was happening here happening there too? Would they ever make it home alive? Feeling insecure about his parents, but fairly secure about his safety in the house, he removed his blood-spattered shirt, sat down, and began searching the Internet on his parents’ computer in the “office,” which used to be his room.

The first thing he did was pull up the local news website, and then the national news, international news, and a host of other sites in between. Nothing was forthcoming, only article after article, and video after video of more of what he’d already seen and been dealing with. Practically no place on the planet, it appeared, was left unaffected. Normal people had mysteriously died, then within minutes had come back as some kind of zombie-like walking dead people, and no one knew why. He was looking for answers, anything; anything that might give him a clue as to what was really going on. Terry was tired, and had been without sleep all night. He glanced up at the clock, which said 12:12PM on its digital face. “Exactly twelve hours ago!” he exclaimed while looking back down at the computer screen. Then he got an idea.

Terry noticed the date on the bottom right corner of the computer – Saturday, December 22, 2012. Yesterday had been the twelfth month, twenty-first day, and twelfth year… Wasn’t there something about that date? This is going to take some time. He got up momentarily to pee and check on Katherine. She appeared to be sleeping. After checking the windows, front and back all over again, and seeing nobody, he washed his hands and grabbed some bread with blackberry jam (because strawberry reminded him too much of Jacob’s and Billy’s coagulated blood), and then went back to the computer room. He just needed to feel normal and hear human voices, so he turned on the small TV that sat in the corner by the bookshelf, although kept the volume on low. He recognized the old 1984 Ghostbusters movie that was playing, so left it on. Terry took a bite of his jammed bread and laid it on the edge of the desk, sat back down at the computer, focused on the date of 12/21/2012.

Terry searched and found strange entries in forums, and off-brand websites that talked about the end times, the Christian fundamentalist belief in the Rapture, and even sites about UFO’s coming to earth to “take” people away, or translate their bodies into some kind of higher consciousness “light” body. He shuddered. Terry took another bite of the bread and jam, placing it down as he continued his search. The Mayan calendar was the date of the “end of the world” according to several sources, none of which were scientific, or anthropologically correct, according to one site where a Mayan descendant – who was a shaman – mentioned that fear-based Americans were making incorrect judgments about his culture and his ancestors’ knowledge by assuming it had anything to do with them, let alone with American culture many hundreds of years later. Still, Terry thought, these dates mark special times of change, from one period to another, and sometimes with change comes upheaval and chaos, at least for a while.

Terry looked up information on astronomy next, and the 7% degree difference in the galactic (not planetary) alignment. Next came astrology, and the hard lessons that Saturn’s influence would give, as well as Mercury being in retrograde, which evidently only brought communication issues and computer or other electronic problems, but nothing seriously harmful or dangerous… just a bit of temporary bad luck or delays. Stupid, he thought. Nothing like this zombie apoca-lapse (lapse, he figured, because there was about a 12-minute lapse in time between midnight and when the zombies began appearing). Something about the end times, the date changes, the times, and chaos itself sat deeply inside of Terry, and made him think that perhaps the Bible might have some answers. Jacob’s dad, who was a minister-turned-agnostic, had taught him some things about the Bible. The only reference Terry found, regarding dead people, and prophecies, was Rev 20:13 “And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.”

“Aha!” Terry said aloud, “Revelation is a symbolic book, and the ‘sea’ is always a reference to the masses… the mass of people on the earth.” He studied the verse in detail, realizing that it was all the people he knew, personally, who had believed in the 2012 “end times” or the “rapture” or a host of other strange cultural beliefs – at least strange to him – that had been expecting something to happen yesterday, and when it didn’t they became sullen, and began acting strange, and then turned crazy with anger, and their behavior changed, as if they had become possessed. Then their bodies simply collapsed. That is when their bodies changed, visibly, and their breathing stopped, and their eyes glazed over. It is when their skin became ashen in color, and their hunger for flesh and brains began, and their anger consumed them to the point that they acted hungry and angry at the same time… hangry!

Terry reached for the last third of his bread and jam. Just then, as he was staring at the verse on the computer screen, he realized the depth of his thoughts, and the evil incarnate that had been bestowed upon his life, which he equally felt responsible for having to deal with. Suddenly, and in apparent synchronistic timing of some kind of disgusting humor of the current apoca-lapse, the voice of Bill Murray from the TV movie, Ghostbusters, yelled out, “dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria!” and caused Terry to drop his bread, which landed jam-side down. He knew that this was bad news. A bad omen. These zombies were here to stay a while. These hangry zombies didn’t even know what they were anymore. They had no future because all of their dreams, hopes, and faith had died, and their bodies died right along with them. They were empty shells, walking around, filled only with notions and ideas and spirits that were already dead and gone. Their hangry-ness was all they had now, hungering for peoples’ brains, Perhaps for the knowledge that existed in the livings’ heads, which they lacked. It seems a stretch to believe this was happening to people, but it was all he had to go on.

Little did they know, Terry thought, that they were even becoming zombies! They died and came back via another reality altogether. Zombie reality. They no longer had a purpose, or anything to hope for. He contemplated the immensity of this revelation concerning the zombies.

Meanwhile, Katherine stirred in the other room, unbeknownst to him. His attention was so focused that he did not hear anything but the TV and his own voice inside his head.

As Terry sat, in full and absorbed contemplation of the big picture, a shiver and tangible sensation went up his back. A long thin fingernail gently traveled up the bareness of his lower spine, between his shoulder, toward his neck. Katherine had a habit of doing this to him, and he turned to smile at her, realizing she was probably feeling better, finally. But this felt different somehow. As he turned and looked at her the smile on his face fell into a look of terror. Her eyes were completely vacant, and mottled with irregular colors of white, black, and gray, and her skin the familiar zombie-ashen lack of color as Jacob and Billy had been. Her only intact hand reached out and grabbed the soft part of the front of his neck as the bloody stub of her other arm pushed into his cheek. Her mouth opened wide, as if to hungrily French kiss him, but as her teeth barred he realized she wanted to bite him, as the newly born zombies had previously bitten her. He struggled to break free of her grasp but she was very strong. His rolling chair fell backwards, hitting the desk and sliding sideways.

He crashed to the floor, and her grip slipped. Terry instantly reached up and felt his neck to see if she had made him bleed, but before he could check fully he instinctively rolled sideways, and got out from under her body-of-death as it hovered over him, moaning. He jumped up, with Katherine – or what was left of her – following him out of the office and into the hallway. He ran to the kitchen, grabbing his mom’s chef knife from out of the knife block that was on the kitchen counter. Katherine’s body slammed against the wall as she, unbalanced and not quite all there, attempted to go after her former boyfriend. Terry realized right then that bites from a zombie were infectious. Contagious. It wasn’t just the dead from hell itself that overtook otherwise perfectly good people, but evidently being damned was catching! He did not want to catch any zombie-death sickness! He did not want to die with them in their misery.

Terry knew what he had to do, and this time there was no thinking twice. He had felt sadness for re-killing the already dead Jacob and Billy, his two best friends, but dammit, he was NOT going to go down for any girl, especially not a zombie-bitch! As she lunged, almost falling onto him, Terry stuck the 9-inch blade into her mouth, cutting through the back of her throat. Chunks of blood tumbled out of her mouth onto his hands as he severed her flesh. He pulled the blade from her, and pushed her backwards down to the ground with his hands, knife still in his grip.

She reached for him, wailing her arms around, and screamed a low but loud moaning type of growl, and tried to attack him, but he placed his knee down onto her good hand so she could not scratch him. Her bloody stump was of no use. He simply rubbed the sharp blade of the knife back and forth on her neck, and when he realized it was not cutting as well as a serrated knife would, he stabbed it over and over, working hard to cut the flesh enough to remove the head. It only wound up a bloody lump of irregular flesh, sitting there staring at him in jest, like multiple clumps of raw liver on top of determined bones that refused to give up to his efforts. He suddenly realized what he was doing, and to whom. A horror came over him, and he had to leave.

Terry jumped up, and ran into his parent’s bedroom, locking the door behind him. He heard the zombie-bitch that used to be his girlfriend crawling or shuffling down the hall toward his direction. Her moaning turned out more like a gurgle and lacked all definition of any kind of a voice. He was disgusted and started to wretch into his father’s dresser drawer he had pulled open. After three heaves he shut the drawer and opened another one, grabbed one of his father’s clean t-shirts, put it on quickly, and stopped all motion to listen. He heard her at the door, thumping against it. Thump, thump, THUMP! It grew louder. THUMP, THUMP, T-H-U-M-P!! He went to the closet, grabbing the shotgun and rifle from the top shelf, behind the box of his mother’s keepsakes, from his childhood. T-H-U-M-P, T-H-U-M-P!!!! The doorframe began to crack and he knew it was only a matter of time before the door would swing open.

He knew the shotgun was loaded, in case of emergency, but Terry still took the time to check, just in case. Katherine pushed the door in, making the door slam against the wall. She limped over toward him as he fiddled with the shotgun. Her head was tilting slightly to one side, whether from the injury or because of what she was, he did not know. Her bloody hand-stump and her sharp fingernails from her other hand were both reaching out to him as she gurgled one last time before lunging at him. He winced as she neared him, his fidgeting with the shotgun finally coming to an end. Katherine was within less than a meter from him as he pulled the shotgun up and aimed it at her head, shooting her directly in the face. BAM!!! The heaviness of her body fell forward onto him, but her head bent backward from the blast, all at the same time. Her body landed on top of him with a dull flesh-slapping thud.

Terry heaved her dead body off of him, letting its weight roll over to the side on its own. He grabbed the guns, all the ammo his dad had in the closet, and grabbed his old backpack from the front room coat rack. He stuffed all the dried and canned and other foods he could find, along with a few canned lemonades from the fridge, into the backpack. He knew that the house would be safe, for now, but realized he might have to leave in a hurry. He grabbed his car keys, put them into his jeans pocket, and was ready to go, if needed. For now, he thought, I will try to rest. He was so incredibly exhausted. He sat on the couch, backpack on, shotgun in his arms, and laid his head back.

Three hours later, bumping sounds at the locked front door awoke Terry. He distinctly heard voices talking. He jumped up, looked out the window, which was still covered in smears of dried blood from Katherine’s pre-zombied stump. It was a last reminder of the scene that had happened just before he had fallen asleep. He glanced down the hall, but realized her dead zombie-bitch body was likely still in his parents’ bedroom. Looking out the front window, he was relieved when he saw his dad fiddling with the keys while his mom was screaming at him to hurry. They looked normal, but upon opening the door to let them in he realized that both of them were bloody.

Had they killed some zombies too? Or had they been bitten?

Terry was ready, either way.

SOMETIMES

2011-07-27T23:32:00.000-07:00

Sometimes things happen for a reason. At least it feels good to think so.

Being apart from a loved one, for a long time, sometimes makes the heart grow fonder,

and sometimes it causes a separation that is unavoidably too vast to allow closeness to grow.

Sometimes you have to let go.

And sometimes… sometimes… once you let go completely,

you can realize that you don’t really want to after all.

And it is okay.

It is okay to have let go.

It is okay to return to love.

It is worth saying you’ll wait.

Wait for the separation to end one day.

Wait for the universe to reverse the reasons that were keeping you apart.

Wait with hope and love, and even excitement for the day you join up with this person again,

whom equally and mutually wants to be with you too.

The difference is that this time you have no expectation on timing, or what, or how.

It will be whenever and however it will be.

This is the peace I finally feel, after years of being upset and angry and lonely.

Now I am free.

Free to live, free to experience, free to love without expectations of anything being returned to me.

If it happens it will happen, and at the right way and time.

If it doesn’t then I am still free.

Sometimes things happen for a reason. At least it feels good to think so.

REBOUNDING

2011-07-18T00:06:00.000-07:00

When is it considered rebounding?

I have been in a relationship for the last 7 years.

We have been married 5 of those 7 years.

We have not lived together the last 2 ½ years of those 5 years.

I have not laid eyes on him the last 1 yr of those 2 ½ years.

I haven’t spoken to him on the phone the last 2 months of that 1 year.

Until the other day, I hadn’t seen a letter from him for the last 1 month.

Little by little, the separation grew, in every possible way.

Time and space divides us.

We are estranged, living in different states, far across the country.

So I let go. Completely.

With no hopes of ever getting together for at least another several years, if then.

So what is rebounding… dating too quickly after the end of a relationship?

What is the end of a relationship?

How long you’ve been together?

How long you’ve been married?

How long you have or haven’t seen your partner?

How long you have or haven’t talked to them on the phone?

Rebounding… is it too quick to date after 2 ½ years of being alone?

Of course, what about if there have been zero dates?

And you are still not sure if you even want to date?

And there is no one around you that you wish to date?

What if there was someone you met at work that you’d *considered* dating, but they were not interested?

Then you don’t work there anymore anyway, so it doesn’t matter.

Is it rebounding then?

What if you still want your husband, but it is fruitless?

What if your husband still wants you, but circumstances dictate it cannot be?

Is it rebounding then?

What is rebounding anyway?

So I wait. I stay alone.

Whatever.

SEPARATION

2011-07-13T21:35:00.001-07:00

I don't want you to feel as alone as I feel. Letting go has been so hard. I have proven I can do it, but it seems so pointless unless it gives you freedom. It certainly has given me freedom - as in, time to write, reflect, focus - but it has not given me freedom to my soul. I feel caged, forced to do what I do not want to do. To be in a place of solitude, as you are, but all within me, because of this horrid separation.

The further I withdraw, the more I see things that remind me of you. Like I am on a rubberband, pulling away from you, only to have it all snap back. I hope it stretches to the point of snapping us back into each others arms rather than to the point of breaking. The band is now overstretched and it is getting weak. Something must change. Time and space between us has been the enemy. We either have to accept that, or make a huge change in our psyche to end this (thing that keeps us apart) at a higher level. I wish for a new dream or premonition as to what is coming. Just to know would make it easier. I know nothing.

I need you now. I needed you yesterday. I know that is not possible and it is breaking my heart. I am afraid I have broken yours. Please tell me you love me. The Shania Twain song "From This Moment On" is the song in my head that invoked and sealed our love when I first came to meet you so long ago, and committed to going through the veil of mysteries about the future, complete with the signs and omens of the birds, the lion, the council. These words would be riddles to anyone but you. Only you understand these things with me. I realize that I had this same vision of the lion/birds almost a decade before we ever met. It was written in the stars. It was our fate no matter what.

We WILL get through it, but only together, even if apart. I will wait for you. I will not abandon you, even if I have to be at a distance for a while. If four more years is what it takes, then fine, but know that I yearn for what I cannot have, and it pains my heart, crushes my psyche, and demolishes my soul. I almost cannot bear it any longer, and hold on because I miss you so incredibly much. There is no one else for me that can ever compare to who you are to me, and the love we share and hold dear.

I pray for an absolute miracle. The universe knows we need one. We have become complacent in our separation. It is time to snap back.

P.S. - I went to the mailbox right now and there was a letter from you, and a birthday card you made for me. Thank you for telling me you love me, and that we’ll make it through this time of separation from each other.

HELL DREAMS

2011-06-28T23:52:00.001-07:00

James’ skinny legs ached as he laid down in bed.

I hate pain, he mumbled.

He wished his mom had not run out of medicine.

James sighed heavily as he realized the light was still on.

Sitting up, he rubbed his knees, his thighs, his calves.

It hurt deeper than his muscles… it ached in his bones.

He rose, turned on the closet light, and closed the closet door… except for a crack.

This should help, he thought.

On his way back to bed, he hit the wall switch, shutting off the overhead light.

James sat upon the edge of his bed.

Raising one leg at a time, he got into a prone position once more.

He grabbed the covers and pulled them over his 12-year old body, and up to his chin.

He glanced at the small amount of light streaming out of the closet onto his carpeted bedroom floor.

James was afraid of the dark; he was afraid of what lurked there.

His dad, a preacher, had told him, “Son, there is nothing in the dark that can hurt you. Just turn on the light in your life and the darkness will flee. It cannot exist where light is present.”

He tried to remember that, but thoughts of his favorite subject at school, science, conflicted his father’s teachings… What about black holes? No light can escape in a black hole…

Aauughhh… he groaned as he reached for his aching legs. Why do my legs hurt? I wonder if mom is right and this is just growing pains?

His thoughts trailed off to growing bones, light and dark, heaven and hell, monsters in the closet. Was any of it real?

He laid as still as possible, hoping the pain would go away.

As he finally fell asleep, he dreamed…

ALL WAS BLACK

JAMES COULD NOT SEE

BUT HE HEARD GROANING

A DEEP, DARK GROANING

WHO’S VOICE WAS THIS?

IT WAS GUTTERAL, AND PAINFUL TO HEAR

HE TURNED TO LOOK BUT COULD SEE NOTHING

ALL WAS PITCH BLACK

NO LIGHT WAS PRESENT

THE PRESSURE WAS IMMENSE

THERE WAS TREMENDOUS PAIN

HORRIBLE, BLOODY PAIN

UNFATHOMABLE PAIN

DEEP

UNRELENTING

TREMENDOUS PAIN

IT ATE JAMES ALIVE

THEN HE HEARD ANOTHER VOICE

IT WAS CRYING

NOT JUST CRYING, BUT SOBBING

TEARS WOULD HAVE BEEN GUSHING

COULD HE HAVE SEEN IT

JUST TREMENDOUS SADNESS

LIKE THE WEIGHT OF TEN THOUSAND HEARTACHES

UPON A SINGLE SOUL

STABBING THE MIND

SLICING THROUGH THE WILL

CRUSHING THE SPIRIT

SOBBING…

ENDLESS FRICKIN’ SOBBING…

HE COULDN’T STAND IT

THE MOANING PAIN

THE SOBBING PAIN

THE DUAL VOICES IN THE DARK

THEN JAMES HEARD ANOTHER VOICE

THIS ONE WAS SAYING SOMETHING

YELLING SOMETHING

THE VOICE WAS ANGRY

SO ANGRY THAT IT WAS SCREAMING

SCREAMING… NOT FAR AWAY

BUT IN HIS EARS

BOTH EARS AT ONCE

SCREAMING!!!

S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G!!!

THAT DAMN YELLING

THIS SCREAMING HURT HIS EARS

IT FRAZZLED HIS MIND

HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND

HE COULD NOT MAKE OUT THE WORDS

MOANING

SOBBING

SCREAMING

ALL AT ONCE

TOO MUCH!

FUCK THIS!

MOTHER FUCKING VOICES!

SHUT THIS SHIT UP

JAMES THEN REALIZED

THE VOICES WERE CHANGING

THEY BEGAN MELDING INTO ONE

AND THE YELLING BECAME MUTED

THE SOBBING BECAME DISTANT

THE GROANING REMAINED

IN THE DARKNESS

HE HEARD ONLY THE GROANING…

AAAUUUGGGHHHHHH….

AAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHHH…

MMMHHMMMHHH….

OOHHHHHHHH…

AAUUUGGGHHHHH…

THEN HE BEGAN WAKING UP

Waking up…

Hearing groaning…

And he recognized that the groaning…

This incessant painful moaning…

… was his own voice.

James opened his eyes and saw the light from the closet.

He blinked, twice.

Hell is real, he thought in awe.

Hell is real, and it is within me.

James realized, not with words, but with thought and experience…

The bottomless pit is the endless darkness of the black hole that exists within people…

Every bad thing, every painful thing, every sadness, groaning and moaning ache, every single wave of anger and threshold of what a person can endure, or feels to its extreme, is hell.

A personal hell.

Hell is a state of being, he considered as he rubbed his aching legs once more.

Perhaps heaven is also real, he thought.

James finally understood why he was afraid of the dark.

MR CHEN AND THE RED RIBBON

2011-06-20T22:37:00.000-07:00

Mr. Chen sat under the money tree wondering about the little spirit fish, Shu, that kept nibbling at his feet but could never be caught on his fishing pole hook. He threw out the line on his long bamboo pole, and saw Shu swimming around in circles. “I wish there were more to life than fishing for spirits,” he mumbled. A spirit bird flew over and landed in the money tree above him, peering down at him with the wanting eyes. He knew it desired to peck his head, so he tightened his hat. “I wish that terrible bird would go away,” said he.

Right then Mr. Chen spotted something white coming down the river towards him. I wonder what that is… thought he. He noticed it was long, like a snake, but part of it was being held up by the sky. Mr. Chen jumped up, nearly losing his hat, so he could get a better look. That quickly, the spirit bird came down and pecked at some stray hairs on his bumpy head as the hat slipped off for a moment. “Get away you terrible bird!” he scorned as he quickly covered his head once again.

His eyes landed back on the long white thing floating partly in the water, and partly out of the water, toward him. He readied his cane pole so he could catch it out of the water; however, the bird flew to the object and snatched it out of the water and began flying away with it. “Nooooooo! Terrible bird!” cried Mr. Chen jumping up and down, “I wanted that!” He was very disgusted at this bird that never stopped causing him problems.

Just then a giant hand appeared out of the sky – HUGE! The clouds and haze that were in the distance covered the source of it, but there it was, a giant hand… a female hand. It was reaching down and held the long white thing, snapped it in the air, and scared the bird spirit, which flew away instantly. “Yay!” Mr. Chen yelled. But then the hand started reaching in his direction.

“What?” Mr. Chen said aghast. His jaw dropped nearly to his dirty bare feet. Mr. Chen became afraid, and trembled as he saw the ominous hand coming closer to him, with the white soggy long thing in its grasp. He wanted to run, but he simply couldn’t move. He realized then, since the long white object was a giant piece of cloth… a beautiful ribbon, satiny white. But Mr. Chen was afraid of the hand that was holding it… This must be the hand of the great sky goddess, he decided. He thought quickly.

Mr. Chen grabbed his cane pole and flicked the line and hook toward the giant hand as it came nearer to him. The hook went into the top of the hand’s skin, and then he pulled and pulled, and the skin began to rip and bleed. Blood from the hand rushed down over the white ribbon, dousing it completely in its red color. The goddess hand let go suddenly, dropping the ribbon by Mr. Chen’s feet before disappearing.

Mr. Chen looked around, and saw that the bird had returned, but it would not go near the red ribbon. “Aha!” said Mr. Chen, and he climbed the money tree and tied the red ribbon around it, and sat under it. The bird chirped and chattered and fluttered around, angry that Mr. Chen had put the red ribbon in its favorite tree. The bird spirit flew away.

“Aaahhhh,” said Mr. Chen, “now I have outsmarted that terrible bird!” So he sat once again, this time directly under the money tree, and enjoyed his bloody gift from the great goddess hand in the sky… the red ribbon that makes terrible birds go away. “I shall fish tomorrow from beside the money tree, but tonight I shall sleep under it so I will be safe from that bird,” … forever, thought he.

But just in case, Mr. Chen slept with his hat on.

AT ONE YEAR

2011-06-15T00:04:00.000-07:00

Last month I cut off all communication with my beloved husband Bruce. It is something I had been putting off for over a year – and it has been a year this month since I moved across the country to start my new life.

I just knew it was finally time to let go completely. So that was it.

I had my phone number cancelled, forever. I no longer write him letters. I removed my ring.

I moved on.

I have not seen him in a year. I have not lived with him in 2 ½ years.

Celibacy sucks. Whatever.

There comes a time, no matter how much love either party feels, when you realize that life must go on without that person, because he is not present anyway, and will not be for many, many years, if then.

Love conquers all. Right?

Right?

No, it does not. It does not fix anything. It does not solve life’s woes. It does not change the corruption of the powers that be, who have the power to destroy everything you’ve worked for. Love does not make it all better.

Love does not see one through, even though it exists, and is felt deeply, and is present in the heart and mind. Love does not bring him home. Only a miracle could do that, and my faith for such things long went by the wayside.

Betrayal by the universe? Perhaps.

Betrayal by the self for not listening sooner? Probably.

But honestly, if ever there were a heaven, it would look like my heart now feels.

I am happy, truly happy. I have the greatest kids in the world. I have a good job and wonderful co-workers, a new home, the best of friends and family, and am liked and even loved by them.

I live in beautiful Washington State, where the flowers and trees, grass and water, moss and ferns, waterfalls and mountains, ocean and animals, and other natural delights, fill my eyes and feed my soul.

My friend recently told me, “Sharon, where did you come from? You just swept into here like you belonged and have quickly rooted yourself, gained everything you set out to do, and have done it with ease, grace, and success. You are amazing.”

How can I top that?

With more plans… and there are many.

I choose to invest in my family, in myself, in my future, in love, in the heaven on earth, which I have found here… and make it grow.

SEX... DIRTY?

2011-06-13T21:54:00.000-07:00

Sex.
Sex, sex, sex.
Dirty word?
Dirty deed?
Who says so?

Many Mom’s and dad’s say so even though they do it.
Oodles of Pastors and Preachers say so even though they practice it.
Some Priests say so even though they pretend to be celibate (I won’t mention what else they’ve done).
Some little kids think so but they have no clue yet (“Ooooohhh, cooties!”)
Some teens think so because they’ve been taught it is so… many teens don’t.
Some old men are called “dirty old men” because they are considered sexual perverts.
The statistics for old women are to become more promiscuous/inventive/exploratory upon entering “old age.”

People who have sex, in American culture, are either considered:

Married
- or -
Whores
Sluts
Man-whores
Fornicators
Cheaters
Adulterers
Masturbators

Sex is also considered…

Fun
Beautiful
To express love
Exercise
Personal expression
Release
Healing

For some sex can be…

Impossible
A challenge
Better with oneself
A score
A mental fixation

For some, sex is thought of as:

For getting pregnant
Molestation
Rape
Dangerous
Not for children
Not for teens
Not for old people
Not for sick people
Not for ugly people
Abusive
Criminal
Evil

For Bible thumpers the…

Marriage bed is undefiled (Hebrews 13:4)
But this can also mean a husband or wife can…
Rape, molest, or use the marriage as a license to otherwise abuse
because no “wrong” can be done if the marriage bed is undefilable.

So many other forms of sexual expression are common worldwide…

BDSM (role play, heightened sexual intensity/release)
Bestiality (zoophilia - farmer Joe did it, and so did the shepherds)
Oral sex
Anal sex
Kama Sutra (many positions)
Kabbalah (sexual direction)

People who have sex can be…

Straight/heterosexual
Gay/homosexual
Lesbian
Bi-sexual
Transgender
Transsexual
Hermaphrodite

Pop Quiz: Can a eunuch have sex?

And there is…

Nymphomania
Necrophilia
Hypersexuality
Sexual phobias
Sexual blocks

And all of these are but samples of a plethora of alternatives
within normal, sexual, human functioning and practices…

ALL are within the normal range of human variation around the globe.
ALL are “normal” except for the rules and labels that people call it.

Sex is normal.

We are here for three reasons…

To eat
Survive
Reproduce

Anything outside of that does not matter.
The human race can only continue if those three things occur.

Right now the human population is exploding.
The earth cannot sustain a global epidemic from overproducing more people.

We have grown beyond the need to reproduce.
When that happens (and this the first time in history or pre-history where it has happened)…

There is no need for reproducing.
There is no need for sex?

Except as fun, as something beautiful, to express love or for personal expression, for exercise, release, and healing… and more.

Or we should just call sex “dirty”?

It is not who does it that makes sex “right” or “wrong”…
It is not their age, gender, social status, socioeconomic status, ethnicity, nationality, whether they have a penis or a vagina (or both or neither).

It is how society labels sex that makes it “right” or “wrong”
How it is enculturated into our thoughts and beliefs.
How it is formed into mindsets…
How it is used for or against others...
That makes it “right” or “wrong”

Sex is unsafe.
Sex is safe.
Sex is bad.
Sex is good.

Sex, my friends, is just sex.

How do you think about sex?

Why?
Where did you learn that?
Who told you?

You were not born from the womb with that attitude.
You learned it.
You were enculturated.
Learned behavior.
This is your culture.

“Sex is dirty.” This is our culture.

Just “good clean sex” is also enculturated.

Why do you like or hate sex?
Why are you indifferent towards sex?
What kind of sexual, or nonsexual person are you?

Sex.

Dirty?

Only to some…
Not to others…

Do you ever have “dirty” thoughts?
Do you ever think sex feels wonderful?
Can sex be fun simply because it is seen as dirty?
Like you’re getting away with something?
Like you’re in on a secret?

Sex…
Dirty?

Can it be both dirty and good, depending?
Yes?

Welcome to the concept of sexual relativism…
Where both views are equally valid and neither is “right” or “wrong”

After all, “dirty” is merely a label, a concept.

Sex is an act.

Have you had some good dirty sex today?

WHO UNDERSTANDS?

2011-06-10T00:02:00.000-07:00

Who understands me?

All of the many human beings I have known or met all have different relationships with me. I wear many hats… daughter, mother, sister, wife/separated spouse/ex (depending), varying level friend (depending upon the person’s position and history with me), co-worker/consultant/owner/writer/minister/counselor (depending), friendly face/someone they have to deal with, or complete stranger. All of these relationships are true. None of these relationships are the real me, nor the whole me, so they are equally untrue.

Who understands all of me, at my core being, the eternal and deep well within me, which once named cannot ever be the truth, simply because it was named?

There are a few, a select handful of people (you know who you are) who have known my heart, my mind, my life, my wishes and desires, my very thoughts.

Husbands/lovers/boyfriends over my lifetime have known parts of all of this… one never knew… one knew a little… one knew most but believed that “the one who loved the least was the one who was in control”… and one knew me as well as my best friends, and became one of my best friends in the world.

Who understands that when one finally finds such a person that it is hell to watch their professional name defaced, their reputation and income demolished, their very soul tarnished with false accusations by the corruption within those who perpetrate it, which they call glorious from their own perspective?

Those who are hated are often the least understood. My own personality is shared by 1% of the population. 99% do not understand me, and some of the other 1% may also not due to other cultural and environmental factors out of my control. My whole life I have striven to be understood, when finally I realized it is wholly impossible. I am hated because I am not known. I have been hated most by the people who did not even know me. Is not victimization a choice? Is it not a choice to care what people think? Especially when they do not know what they think they know?

Who understands what it is like to have these similar views and actions of hatred and disgust imposed upon oneself by others, and to watch as they victimize the victims, and bring great emotional harm to the children in the worst way, while claiming they are saving them? What hypocrisy. What self-deceit. What relativistic truths, which seem like opposites… yet these are all truths in and of themselves, even if apparently contrary. Whose truth is better than another? They are equal, even if not the same. Labels are man-made concepts. We are all labeled as this or that. They are truth to some, and falsehoods at the same time, because they have a partial view, a limited bias, a narrow mindset.

Who understands this?

Are we not all equally capable of the gravest errors, and the most awesome blessings?

Who understands that I am not the person that many think I am? Who knows the real me? Who sees my soul bleed for truth, and who hears my pain? Who feels the ragged blade that ripped through my heart and stabbed me in the back? Who senses the spirit of who I really am rather than the one they choose to see through their misjudgments? Who tastes the bitter drops of betrayal that they shoved into my mouth? Who smells the putrid agony of death that was laid to rot within my very soul?

Who understands that I am not the person that many think I am? Who knows the real me? Who sees my soul as the spring flower that blooms within me, and who hears my lips whisper gratitude to the trees and sky and water and powers that be? Who feels the peace that emanates from my innermost being that makes me smile when no one is looking? Who senses the spirit of who I really am in totality or in part? Who tastes the glory that shall one day be mine? Who smells the sweet smell of justice as the truth is told to the masses?

I do.

I understand.

That is all that matters.

MR CHEN MEETS SHU

2011-06-07T21:33:00.000-07:00

One fine spring day Mr. Chen sat cross-legged under the money tree and began fishing. He put his bare feet in the cool river and felt the fish spirit nibbling at his toes. “I am tired of these fish…” Mr. Chen said with a sigh. He longed for someone to talk to.

The rocks under his rump were making his back sore so he got up and stood in the water’s edge. Mr. Chen walked deeper and deeper towards the middle of the river. The water reached up to his chest. He stepped up onto a large boulder, but it was slippery, so his foot slid off making him fall completely into the water, dunking his head, and making his hat fall off. A spirit bird flew down, nabbed Mr. Chen's hat, and dropped it on the bank. The river, with its mighty arms twisting and turning Mr. Chen's body, swept him downstream.

Mr. Chen floated down the river, and swimming only kept him on top of the water but would not bring him to the bank. He continued floating downstream, passing a footbridge, then a large hanging branch, which he tried to grab without luck. He saw clouds pass by, heard children playing in the distance, and the sound of a stringed musical instrument. Finally, he snatched a small log that stuck out partly into the river, but it pulled loose and it held him afloat as he continued to swiftly go farther and farther away from his fishing bank by the money tree.

Mr. Chen became so weary that he lay across the log and shut his eyes. Time passed and he heard a voice – a soft, gentle, but concerned female voice. “Are you alive?” He cracked his eyes open and saw a small woman standing over him from atop a rope bridge. She had reached down towards him and had grabbed his shirt, and caught him like a fish from out of the water. Dragging him to the bank she said, “I am Shu, who are you?”

He stuttered, as if in a dream, and choked on the water for a moment. “…Mr. … Chen,” he replied, exhausted. Shu took him to her village and aided him to regain his health. They had many conversations, for many days, very long and in-depth, and entirely fascinating. Mr. Chen was drawn to this little woman Shu, and felt she was part of him. He knew things were okay, and he thought about his home back at the money tree, by the riverbank. Before retiring for bed he told Shu of his home, and where he was from in detail. “You are well enough to go home,” Shu said, “but I will see you tomorrow by the water.”

That night Mr. Chen went to sleep in Shu’s village, but when he awoke he saw the underside of the leaves of the money tree he was so familiar with at home. He sat up quickly; the sun was rising. Panicked, he looked all around, and got up and called out for Shu, but she was nowhere to be seen. Did she take him back home in the night while he slept? Did he even meet her at all? Was it a dream? Was he alive or dead?

He noticed his cane pole by the water’s edge, so he sat down cross-legged, put on his hat that still laid on the riverbank, and began to fish. Missing Shu he put his bare feet in the water and wondered if he would ever find her again, and he considered what would happen if he went downstream. He shook his head, figuring she was lost to him in time and space. He could not remember how far away Shu’s village was. Shu had caught him out of the water as if he were a fish when his eyes had been closed.

Right then the little spirit fish came and nibbled on his feet, looked up at him and said, “Are you alive? I am Shu, who are you?”

Mr. Chen jumped! Then he realized he must be dead, and so calmed down, sat down, crossed his legs, and picked up his cane pole. The only thing left to do would be to fish.

May be this time he could catch Shu out of the water…

MR CHEN GOES FISHING

2011-06-07T00:06:00.000-07:00

Mr. Chen sat under the money tree wishing for something to do. "I am hungry... Ah," he exclaimed, "I will go fishing!" So he grabbed his bamboo cane pole, sat along the waters edge, crossed his legs, and began his patient hunt for fish.

After some time he caught a fish, cooked it over a smokey fire, and began to eat it, but on his first bite Mr. Chen choked and died. His spirit left, floated up by the top of the money tree, and looked down at his body. "I should not have gone fishing," and so he jumped back into his body and awoke.

As he looked up, his eyes spotted a bird in the money tree. "I am still hungry," he said, and so he killed the bird, cooked it and began to eat it. The first bite of the bird tasted good, and he did not choke, but then the spirit of the bird pecked at his ears and pulled the hairs on his head the rest of the day. "I should not have killed the bird," said Mr. Chen, shaking his sore head.

He finally jumped in the water to flee the bird spirit. Mr. Chen held his breath under the water for a long time, and saw the spirit of the fish he had previously caught, swimming around him, nibbling at his toes, but it did not hurt. "Hhhhmmm..." said Mr. Chen.

He got out of the water and saw that the bird spirit had flown away. He quickly put on a hat in case the bird came back, then picked up his cane pole, sat by the waters edge, crossed his legs, and began to fish. He contemplated the rest of the afternoon that angry fish - even if you choke and die - are better than angry birds.

To this day you will find Mr. Chen, sitting cross-legged under the money tree at the waters edge, and doing nothing but fishing with his cane pole.

Always, always, he will be wearing his hat.

ARCHETYPES STORY

2011-05-25T23:42:00.000-07:00

Note: Archetypes are symbolic representations (models/prototypes) of what human beings know in life... great "types" of people and personalities and characterizations that we all have experienced, or even been. The archetypes are in all CAPS below in the story... which ones are you?

Once upon a time there was an innocent CHILD. Her parents were MOTHER, who was both nice and nurturing, but sometimes reacted out of fear, while her FATHER was both protective and gentle but did not always see clearly because he wore very thick glasses.

And every day the FATHER brought home good nourishing food, and the MOTHER cooked it and fed it to the CHILD and husband. They even brought over their FRIEND to eat with them sometimes, the crazy old FOOL who lived next door. They felt sorry for the FOOL because although he was lucky occasionally, he sometimes did not know how to live well or make wise decisions. They would talk and joke and eat healthy food though, and everyone was happy…

Until one day the FOOL invited the CHILD into his house and fed her candy and cake. This made the CHILD sick, but the FOOL told her not to tell her parents because they would get mad at her. The CHILD, in her innocence, and desire for his candy and cake, obeyed him. Because of the desire for candy and cake, the CHILD and the FOOL became secret friends over time, and the FOOL began to sneak poison into the foods to her so that she did not want to eat when she got home. The MOTHER and FATHER began to worry, but the CHILD did as the FOOL had instructed, and she began to tell stories as to why she was not hungry and why she felt so sick. She would even sneak out at night in order to eat poisoned candy and cake when her parents were asleep. The FOOL made the CHILD so sick that her MOTHER and FATHER finally wondered what was happening, and asked the CHILD, but she had been well trained to lie. Out of habit of eating too much poisoned candy and cake, and sneaking into the cupboard to spy some that the MOTHER had hidden, the CHILD asked her FATHER for it. So thinking in a SAVIOR-like flash, he offered to give the CHILD some if she would tell him the truth. She agreed and admitted that the FOOL had been giving her candy and cake all along. After showing his CHILD the candy and cake she had already spied out, but not ever giving her any, the FATHER then told the MOTHER what he had found out. The CHILD was instantly angry at the FATHER. The MOTHER, wanting to know if it was true, asked the FOOL if he had been feeding the child bad food. He admitted he was, because he was a FOOL after all, and so the MOTHER and FATHER banished him from ever coming to their home again, and told the CHILD she could never see the FOOL again. However, the child was still angry at the FATHER over the candy and cake, and she was angry at her MOTHER for keeping her from seeing the FOOL, who was her FRIEND. The poison had warped her mind, and her parents became her ENEMY.

And because of this poisoned mind, the CHILD, and her sudden separation from her FRIEND the FOOL, she became distraught. The FOOL told the authorities what he had done, and the TRICKSTER leader of the authorities asked the CHILD who else had fed her candy and cake, so she said that her FATHER had done so, and that her MOTHER knowingly let him. The TRICKSTER loved chaos and saw this as an opportunity for personal advancement in the Army-of-Ruthless-Sadists (ARS) institution where he worked, since catching two criminals is better than one. He made threats and scared the MOTHER to tears before tricking her into thinking that everything would be okay if she just let him be in control of the situation, and then he wrote a “confession” with special words that sounded self-incriminating and forced the FATHER to sign it, still pretending he was “helping” him.

And because the MOTHER said the FATHER was the HERO, and had used a moment of insight to find out the truth of what was happening to the CHILD by the FOOL, they all thought she was lying, because what kind of FATHER would show a child poisoned candy and cake when he probably actually fed it to her? Due to this the ARS system, and their faith in the authority of TRICKSTER, and the so-called “confession” that the TRICKSTER had devised, the FATHER was imprisoned by the ARS’ own self-serving deeds that “proved” he had fed candy and cake because the CHILD had said so, even though the CHILD had already repented and told the truth to the other co-TRICKSTERS that worked at ARS. They would not have it, as their hatred against the FATHER was too strong, and they believed him to be evil, and believed the MOTHER was bad and that she had convinced the CHILD to repent as a lie. The CHILD had to go live with her GRANDPARENTS, while the MOTHER nearly died from despair and the destruction of her family. She stuck by her husband, the FATHER of their child, and supported him while he was in the ARS prison. This went on and on and nothing ever changed for a few years…

Until finally the MOTHER realized that she was all her daughter had, and that the ARS’ co-TRICKSTER workers would never, ever let the FATHER come home because of their fear and insistence that he would, (supposedly) again, feed the child poisoned candy and cake as the FOOL had done. The FOOL, because he had admitted to the deed, wound up in a serendipitous position and never had to live at the ARS prison. He was free to continue living next door to the MOTHER, who had to move because the ARS and co-TRICKSTERS refused to make the FOOL move instead. They believed in rewarding the FOOL because he had behaved very well and had not fed any other children poisoned candy or cake. The MOTHER was a demon, however, in their eyes, and should pay for her terrible deeds of supporting the evil-incarnate FATHER continually. The leader of all the co-TRICKSTERS even told her she should also be in prison, and if it were up to him she would be.

And every day after that the MOTHER and the CHILD lived alone, and the MOTHER cried over her child, over her lost husband, and over her lost home, but knew that as long as all of the TRICKSTERS at the ARS institution counted on her husband coming home to her and the victim CHILD, they just simply would never let him out of the ARS prison. They would make him rot in there. So she decided she would let go of her fear, and let go of her despair, and let go of her loss, and take her CHILD into her arms, and she moved as far away from her husband – the FATHER of her CHILD – and vowed never to come back again. Her husband was sad and he felt like a MARTYR, but he understood that it sometimes comes to that when one is the HERO or SAVIOR in the story. When those at the ARS institution realized the MOTHER would never again let the FATHER near the CHILD they let him go free.

The End

FOR YOU, NOT TO YOU

2011-05-23T22:14:00.000-07:00

I am not doing this to you; I am doing it for you.

There are reasons why I had to let you go…

I dreamt you into my life, and from that moment “my dreams came true because of you” (Shania Twain)

The universe handed us love, in a special basket of blessings, made with care… we took it, caressed it, loved and lived, and enjoyed every minute. All of life’s amazing details started falling into place, perfectly. The synchronicities were beyond chance.

However, early on I had a premonition that a council of people in high up authority would make a horrible and wrongful judgment against us, and I told you that “something bad is going to happen,” and knew that I was faced with a choice right then… either go forward and face it (or try to change it), or let go of the love that had been given to spare us from the grief to come. We chose love. We chose together. I chose, while you watched, listened, and allowed me to make the choice.

Two years later, on the fated date of 06/06/06 it happened… I will not go into the meaning of the number of man’s wicked ways that twisted our beautiful fate into something wretched and pitted. The next 5 of our 7 years together were to be filled with this agony, this misdeed upon our lives, these lies perpetrated by a criminal with a badge. It happened because of things said from the mouth of a confused child, who had been compromised by the confessed criminal next door, which had been improperly and unconstitutionally handled by those in power. Our lives became a wasteland. Desolate. Destroyed. My very soul was broken apart and all the pieces that used to be me became dead, except for the small piece I had been left as.

I chose to hold on that day, and perhaps I should have let go then, when faced with the choice again to let you go. But the loss was already too much, and I feared more loss, and held on in desperation, because of the horror I had seen and experienced. What I had seen in the vision was coming true… and I feared the worst. The key word is FEAR. It became the greatest threat of all, and in trying to “fix” things I made it worse. Instead of letting go I latched on tighter. Absolutely 100% of everything I tried, including to educate myself, backfired in some way, and it all imploded and exploded at the same time, by the end.

That was 2 ½ years ago, and over a year ago I almost let go again… and felt that things would go better if I did. Somehow you needed to process something, and so did I, but alone, separate, rather than together. If it were to last, it had to be broken apart. My being had already been shattered, so what worse could happen, except if I hold on? But my love and worry that you’d be hurt, or that you might hurt yourself, was too much to bear. How could abandoning you at your lowest hour be good? Why was the universe telling me to let go, finally, and yet I could not do it?

Then, just recently, something hit me, and I knew… KNEW… what I had to do, no matter how hard it was, or would be. I had to let go, completely. I had to say goodbye. I had to stop writing, or talking on the phone. I had to move on, and let you go through whatever you were supposed to experience, so that I could also experience whatever it is I am here to do. All the writing to me, and me to you, was keeping me from writing the message that I am supposed to tell the world. Our story. What happened. The gory details. The love given, the love lost. The tragedy. The courage. The real story of loss… and triumph.

So I have had to let you go, not to hurt you, but to save you. To give them the reason to let you go also. You’ve been imprisoned by their hatred, as well as my love. Now a higher love of freedom must ensue, so that you can know that what I do is not done to you, but for you, because you are loved so greatly. Because they will not ever understand it any other way. I cannot be with you, for you. Be free little bird… fly free through the hole in the wall… you are now home free. You are not even mine to keep.

CHOICES IN LOVE

2011-05-22T23:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes the love between two people is perfect. Sometimes things or people in life come in between love, in order to tear it apart. Sometimes both extremes happen within the same relationship, at the same time. Just whose choice is this anyway?

I have dreams that come true... premonitions if you will. I dreamt about meeting my present husband, and the universe arranged everything so perfectly for us to meet, and be together. It was marvelous... the first two years like a dream... a dream come true. Literally.

I also had a premonition, early on in our relationship, that there would be a group of people who would conspire together to judge us wrongfully, and I told my husband, "Something bad is going to happen..." but we (humans in general) often try to suppress such feelings and knowings, or go into a kind of denial that such things can really occur, or think we can figure it out and "fix" it before or as it happens.

But a premonition is of something that IS going to happen. Period. Knowing a tsunami is going to occur does not mean we can put our arms together and attempt to "stop" the wave by our own limited power. I now wonder if having such premonitions can help us prevent - reverse - what we see is coming? In my case I knew that the only way to stop it would have been to cut off my relationship with the very person who had been promised to be the lover and husband side of God to me (which came true). Instead, I stood my ground, believing that love could conquer all. I believed we could stand the test of time, and go through anything together, and that we could set things straight, whatever it was that might happen.

But then one day we found out the neighbor had hurt our child (and admitted it), and a corrupt cop, who had a history of coercion (whom I had seen a "blackness" of energy all around him the first time I set eyes upon him), sought out to destroy our lives, and his lies and destructive behaviors bled over onto others, who in a chain of command, used those lies and deceit to absolutely undo everything we had worked for. They victimized the victim(s) and felt it was their duty to do so, not ever knowing the truth. Yet, even though they could not destroy our love, they still managed to destroy our family, our jobs and income, our lives, our reputations, and take away our home and peace of mind. We fought and lost tens of thousands of dollars, and in the end were shuffled into oblivion and separated by time and space. We lost in almost every possible way.

Yet our love remains, and the only way I have found to keep my sanity was to do what I was faced with in the beginning, which I first thought of and feared to do (loss), and now face with an even harder position... to let go of my husband completely. To release the one I love and give him up to the universe's goals, whatever they may be. For better or for worse. To move on and leave him behind, alone. To abandon the very one that fulfilled my dreams, and made me feel whole, loved, wanted, desired, and who made my heart smile endlessly. The one I love; the one who loves me.

It is the worst kick in the stomach. It is also like kicking someone else when they're down. I have lost him, and have had to lose him yet again. And I feel forced to have to choose this. What kind of choice is this anyway?

One day, if he dies before me, I will lose him yet again. To love and lose someone, over and over, is the saddest thing my heart has ever had to endure, yet it has to be done. Why? I don't know. It just does. I cannot explain it. I don't know the answers - they were not given to me. I only know what I have to do, and that is to move on. To release my will and to let go. To trust in what I cannot see, and cannot change, for whatever greater purpose is there to be done (if such a thing exists... it is comforting to think so).

If something changes in the future, and he is given back to me, then I will smile, yet will know that I will again lose him one day. Nothing in this life is permanent. Nothing is static. The only constant is change itself. The moments we all have now are precious. I have learned to enjoy them. To take nothing for granted.

So I await another dream or premonition that tells me when the universe is done with this phase of our lives, and what the next one will be... whatever that may be, and whoever it involves.

Sometimes the love between two people is perfect. Sometimes things or people in life come in between love, in order to tear it apart. Sometimes both extremes happen within the same relationship, at the same time.

Just whose choice is this anyway?

Oh yes... evidently the choice has been ours all along.

My choice was only delayed rather than avoided. I have learned that we must choose wisely in love. So now I surrender to love.

Bigfoot/Sasquatch, the PNW hominoid

2011-04-13T22:30:00.000-07:00

I wrote this for my nephew's Bigfoot sightings map, based on the BFRO's sighting database... I am happy to say it is now officially published on this Map poster. Enjoy!

Bigfoot, also known in the United States and Canada as Sasquatch, is a very tall, bipedal, gorilla-like creature whose kind has been spotted throughout the Americas for many hundreds of years. Similar hairy hominoids with faces appearing almost human, and of various sizes (7-10 feet), hair color (brown, black, or reddish-brown), weight (600-900 lbs), and behaviors (passive to curious to aggressive), have been seen all over the world. Nearly every region of the planet have names for these short-necked ape-like beings, such as the Yowie in Australia, Almas in Russia/Siberia, Mapinguari or Isnashi in Brazil, the Yeti in southern Asia, Yeren and Xueren in China, “Wild Man,” “Stick Indian,” “Big Elder Brother,” or “Stone Giants” in some Native American Indian cultures, Orang Pendek in Sumatra, plus thousands of other names in thousands of other places exist in both written and oral historical form worldwide. It becomes apparent when mapping the sightings of these hominoid creatures around the globe, that the evidence for their existence is realized as a cultural near-universal phenomenon.

Many times it is a lone hiker in the woods, or someone driving at night, or even groups of people traveling or camping who have had rare sightings of these amazingly elusive creatures. The Bigfoot often appear, and then quickly vanish into the forest, or camouflage themselves in the nearby brush. Many sighting accounts do not get published (although some media-driven accounts turn out to be hoaxes), but ongoing research by investigators, and organizations such as the BFRO (Bigfoot Field Researchers Organization) or the TBRC (Texas Bigfoot Research Conservancy) to name two of many, have hundreds of articles and/or databases full of information on sightings and evidence that have been collected. Rarely will physical evidence be found, but among such evidence includes footprints, hair samples, nesting sites, broken and twisted branches high in the trees, recordings of howls and tree-knocking or rock bashing, and photographs or videos.

Some of the common areas where Bigfoot or Sasquatch is seen are in forests and mountains, near waterways (rivers, swamps, lakes, and streams), near granite rock and areas of higher potassium in the water, and especially in the Pacific Northwest area of the country. Washington state has more Bigfoot sightings than any other place in the continental United States, with Skamania county in the south (same county as where Mount St. Helens volcano erupted), and Pierce county (near Mount Rainier, the highest mountain in Washington) taking the lead for sightings, vocalizations, and footprint tracks combined. Many sightings also occur in other areas of the Pacific Northwest, particularly in British Columbia (Canada), as well as Oregon and northern California.
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Japan, Radiation, KI, and Chernobyl

2011-03-17T23:13:00.000-07:00

NOTE: A copy of this article - with pictures embedded - can
be found at the last link on this particular blog.

Picture Source: weatherbank.com

So much is going around the Internet about fears of radiation from the nuclear power plant(s) in Japan in case there is a (partial) meltdown since the 8.9 earthquake on March 11, 2011. Many people in the U.S. are buying potassium iodide (KI) pills/tablets, but for them to be of any real help would require HIGH doses of radiation within a 10-mile radius (source: NPR). Chances are that the doses one would receive in North America from Japan, a distance of approximately 5,000 miles (8,000 km) to the west coast, would be negligible.

Still, many are worried (perhaps needlessly), and others say “better to be safe than sorry” and are stocking up on food, water, gas in their cars, and high-iodine containing foods such as kelp, saltwater fish, etc. Below are a few links and snippets or graphs/charts that I’ve put together on these subjects, to give the reader some further information.

Nuclear accidents have happened before… one incident we can compare is the Chernobyl nuclear power plant disaster that occurred in 1986. We can use this event to help assess how the wind patterns and distances and danger levels occur over vast distances, which is something we can expect from any possible meltdown in Japan. Although a meltdown would first have to happen, it would also have to be evaluated on its own merit, depending upon what happens, the amount of radiation released, the distances involved, weather patterns and the jet stream, and so on.

CHERNOBYL 1986 NUCLEAR EXPLOSION SITE PICTURES:

http://users.owt.com/smsrpm/Chernobyl/glbrad.html

As you can see from maps showing the Chernobyl blast of 1986, the levels of dangerous radiation did not make it around the globe, but landed in certain areas depending on the weather. This will also be the case with Japan if there were a meltdown. Knowing the basic trade winds across the Pacific Ocean will come into play for any possible radiation making it to the U.S. Remember that most of Chernobyl’s fallout occurred within 400-1200 miles, with the farthest reaches of weakened fallout scattered up to 4,000 miles away. Japan is more than 5,000 miles away from the closest point (the west coast) of the U.S.

ANIMATED WEATHER PICTURE OF JET STREAM:

http://www.weatherbank.com/free/grafx/jsnh.gif

(predicted weather pattern for March 17-23, 2011)

A common cancer linked to radiation poisoning (from a CLOSE range of a nuclear explosion) is thyroid cancer, which is why people take iodine, or potassium iodide pills; however, there can be side effects with taking them, or even from an intake of too much iodine. Iodine itself is radioactive, but then, so are bananas, rocks, and there is even radiation in the background from everything all around us.

A chart, including the Fukushima radiation, showing amounts of radiation and their measurements can be found here:

http://xkcd.com/radiation/

(note: this link was added in on March 20, 2011)

IODINE DOSAGES INFORMATION

Source: http://www.ki4u.com/

Publish Post

Daily dosages from diet:

· 0-6 months: 110 mcg

· 7-12 months: 130 mcg

· 1-8 years: 90 mcg

· Boys 9-13 years: 120 mcg

· Girls 9-13 years: 120 mcg

· Boys 14-18 years: 150 mcg

· Girls 14-18 years: 150 mcg

· Men 19 years and older: 150 mcg

· Women 19 years and older: 150 mcg

· Pregnant women 14 years and older: 220 mcg

· Lactating women 14 years and older: 290 mcg

Threshold Thyroid Radioactive Exposures and Recommended Doses of KI for Different Risk Groups
	Predicted Thyroid exposure(cGy)	KI dose (mg)	# of 130 mg tablets	# of 65 mg tablets
Adults over 40 yrs	>500	130	1	2
Adults over 18 through 40 yrs	>10
Pregnant or lactating women	> 5
Adoles. over 12 through 18 yrs*		65	1/2	1
Children over 3 through 12 yrs		65	1/2	1
Over 1 month through 3 years		32	1/4	1/2
Birth through 1 month		16	1/8	1/4

Iodine from food sources is natural and easily obtainable, not to mention healthier than potassium iodine pills – not that we would need them anyway in the U.S. since the 5,000+ mile distance would deplete much of the radiation from the atmosphere, especially as it falls with the rain over the Pacific Ocean, not to mention the rainshadow effect of the west coast mountain ranges.

SOURCES OF IODINE FROM FOOD

Adults only need 150 micrograms of iodine each day – much more than that can cause health problems and risk for other serious health issues. (source: http://www.ehow.com/about_5393721_dangers-iodine-supplements.html)

Foods rich in iodine graphs/charts: http://whfoods.org/genpage.php?tname=nutrient&dbid=69

World's Healthiest Foods ranked as quality sources of: iodine
Food	Serving Size	Cals	Amount (mcg)	DV (%)	Nutrient Density	World's Healthiest Foods Rating
Kelp (sea vegetable)	0.25 cup	8.6	415.00	276.7	579.1	excellent
Yogurt, low-fat	1 cup	155.1	87.22	58.1	6.8	very good
Cow's milk, 2%	1 cup	121.2	58.56	39.0	5.8	very good
Egg, whole, boiled	1 each	68.2	23.76	15.8	4.2	very good
Strawberries	1 cup	43.2	12.96	8.6	3.6	very good
Mozzarella cheese, part-skim, shredded	1 oz-wt	72.1	10.09	6.7	1.7	good

Kids usually love the dried laver seaweed sheets, which is a salted/seasoned and crunchy snack – available at most Oriental or Asian food stores/markets. Nori is the seaweed that comes in flat sheets (dark green paper-like sheets) for rolling up rice and vegetables, which is also good (used with or without sushi). There is also the dried brown seaweed (a rich source of natural iodine, and a little bit goes a long way!) that expands when wet, used most often in soups (Korean soup called Miyeokguk)… just a ¼ of a cup per day gives a whopping 415 mcg of iodine, according to the chart above! I would personally recommend eating seaweed in one or more of these forms if you want iodine. It is just an all-around healthy way to go regardless of radioactivity scares.

FOODS THAT INTERFERE WITH IODINE ABSORPTION

Source: http://www.healthsupplementsnutritionalguide.com/Iodine.html

“There are certain food compounds known as goitrogens, that hinder the absorption and utilization of iodine by the thyroid gland. Foods that have goitrogens include the cruciferous vegetables like broccoli, Brussel sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, kale, mustard and turnip. Also soy and soy products like tofu, and cassava root, millet, peanuts, peaches, and strawberries.”

ISSUES IN JAPAN

Please remember to be safe, eat healthy, feel at peace, and enjoy life! Our “worries” are nothing compared to what those in Japan have been going through. Keep Japan and those who live there in your hearts, thoughts, and prayers; and more importantly, donate to reliable organizations that are helping them directly, since the aftermath of the earthquake(s), the tsunami that followed suit, and any potential nuclear disasters.

FIND A DONATION CENTER

http://www.google.com/#sclient=psy&hl=en&site=&source=hp&q=donate+japan+earthquake+relief&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=&pbx=1&bav=on.2,or.r_gc.r_pw.&fp=b26d2f4496b7882f

SEE THIS ARTICLE WITH PICTURES INCLUDED HERE:

http://www.sunstar-solutions.com/japan_radiation.htm

FAERIE'S FLIGHT

2011-03-14T00:02:00.000-07:00

She whispered her soft breeze of a tiny voice, “Catch me if you can!” and she fluttered away. Springing, bouncing, flying to and fro, she sang on the edges of leaves, and danced between the moss and lichens.

Other nature spirits came to greet her with smiling faces of green, all shimmering aglow together under the canopy of the hemlock trees. “Catch me if you can!” she giggled loudly this time, leaving them behind.

Shooting straight up into the air, high above the tree tops, then plunging downward again, and swooping by the ear of a child, she whistled a tune of delight and tireless enjoyment. “I’m heeeeere…” her itsy voice trailed off into the forest.

Innocent eyes looked up from playing; the boy saw only a long blade of grass move slightly. His eager eyes returned to his task at hand. His young hands folded the paper ever so carefully.

She sneaked up behind him, landing in his brown curly hair, tousling it up with her delicate, transluscent fingers in utter delight. He waved his hand, smacking at his head to kill a mosquito. She swooped away, just in time, laughing and sparkling of sheer happiness.

The final crease in the paper was done. He held the paper airplane up high, while his oversized “Spruce Goose” t-shirt sleeve fell toward his shoulder. He missed his dad. This flight is for Dad, he thought.

The faerie danced in the air, and landed in the middle of the boy’s airplane. She held on tight. He let loose, throwing it forward with gusto. “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” she cried as sparkles of light flew off of her wings. The boy blinked twice.

She carried the airplane farther than it otherwise would have gone, turned it back toward the boy, and landed it in his hair. She liked his hair. “I caught you!” she said smartly, and then she flew into the bushes, leaving the airplane and the boy behind.

“I did it!” the boy gushed, “I… I made it fly all by myself!” "Humph!" said faerie in disgust. He ran back toward his camp where his mom was cooking supper, "I made it fly!" Mom smiled and said, “Great! I knew you would love it here. This place is so enchanted.”

The boy and his mom sat and ate dinner together, talking about the good times when dad was still alive. “We are making new memories, just the two of us,” mom insisted. The little faerie sat on a single pine needle at the top of the tree, causing it to droop slightly. She sat, staring down. “Humph!” she said, "we shall see about that!”

Faerie giggled. Her plan was instant; she whooshed past the tree limb that hung above their stew, causing a piece of moss to fall into the pot. “Hee hee hee heeeeeee!” she laughed as she glided away… far away… to the next camp where a young girl was reading a book about faeries.

“This will be even more fun!” the faerie chatted to herself with glee, “Catch me if you can!”

FREEDOM

2011-03-13T13:31:00.000-07:00

Freedom to be me...

the journey of experience

washing over me

in joy

in tears

in solitude

with friends

with lovers

with enemies

the experience of the journey

filling my soul

for truth

for justice

for horror

without love would be unfruitful

without learning would be pointless

without error would be fatal

the journey

the experience

to be me...

is all things

good and bad

sweet and salty

sour and bitter

the taste of life eaten well

consumed for nourishment

for fun

enjoyment

to drink of life's pleasures

and spill my soul

in patterns of refreshment

to the world

to be me...

the real me

that people don't see

that people do see

uninhibited

unclothed from society's expectations

the systems' systems

the individual judge

the prying eyes and deaf ear

to live

and let live

the real me

is here

where I find myself

... in true freedom

The Meaning of Pain, Loss, and Suffering: Culture and DNA

2011-02-16T00:13:00.000-08:00

I was speaking with my friend about why bad things happen to good people, and her Christian background brought her into some honest scrutinizing as to why it has to be this way, despite Jesus dying for people and supposedly not showing grace to those who are his followers. No matter who tries to reason it out, regardless of their religion, it certainly winds up developing into a comprehensive manner in which to explain why we must all die, or go through horrible circumstances and terrible experiences that try our faith, and like the Jews did during the Holocaust, to put God on Trial.

So why do we feel betrayed when bad things happen to honest and amazingly wonderful people who obviously don't deserve such punishment? I do realize that everything that happens within the many, varied cultures in this world is to assign meaning to circumstances that otherwise might not seem to make sense. Especially during times of pain, loss, or suffering.

The old myths of times past (that still exist in modern times, although typically in small-scale societies and tribal situations) that tell how the bird got its wings, or why the people on a turtle's back survived a flood, or why the dog sniffs another dog's butt (that one is a funny story - remind me to tell it to you sometime), are all there as symbols and explanations of how things came to be.

Humans seem to intrinsically have it in them to NEED reasons why things are the way they are, because things mean so much to us compared to, let's say, a dung beetle, whose only care in the world is to find some poop and roll it around to hatch their babies in. It is part of staying alive and continuing the species, and is one of the three things we all are here for, to eat, survive, and procreate. Meaning is what we assign to the parts that deal with starving (or other maladies), not surviving (death), and not continuing our genetic line into the future (death without purpose). Meaning is what we create in our minds to explain why the path is blocked to those three things that every human is here, ultimately, to do.

I guess that some of these assignments of spiritual meaning have more to do with alleviating our fears than doing anything for revealing any real truths. I have seen so much in my short life, and understand the enculturation and ethnocentric values of peoples in the world, that it is now hard for me to buy into much regarding dogma or religion anymore... with the exception of shamanism.

Shamanism, which is the only universal "religion" (not an organized religion at all - why it is so amazing that it is a worldwide phenomenon that crosses all boundaries of race, gender, age, sex, nationality, socioeconomic status, etc.), and in fact has only a core set of practices throughout the world, is also one of the most individualistic and complex and unique spiritual practices on the planet.

The only common denominator for shamanism is the human brain - the key to opening symbolic and neuron-synaptic doorways from what is already locked inside our DNA. It is as physical as it is nonphysical. It is as visible as it is invisible.

Premonitions that "danger is afoot" has surely been one of the many ways that our ancestors survived dire circumstances, and so this trait was favored in the survival of the species compared to those who didn't have such foresight (they died after all, sometimes ending their line with them alone). We also know that these "spiritual" features are typically inherited and follow in families. Some call these features things like intuition, others see visions or hear voices, and others have dreams at night, and some have outright strange experiences that they claim is spiritual and real, and ALL are enculturated and ethnocentrically induced, and completely dependent upon one's personal beliefs and values that are ingrained into us from childhood, at least in regards to how we assign it meaning (to a pagan it is being psychic, to a Christian it is prophecy, etc.).

We must make sense of our world, so we can find peace and meaning among the inherent problems, and align this peace and meaning with an outside source (power) that we can name and "box" into an idea or personage. Different cultures call this "power" Spirit, or the Universe, some call it God, or goddess/gods, the ancestors, ghosts/spirits, a higher power, superconsciousness, or a host of other things.

It has everything to do with us, however. Us as a species, us as humans, us within our cultures, us with our amazing brains and connection to a quantum reality that is the underlayment of a seemingly apparent external world, when in reality the internal world is really where its at. We all have it, although some appear to be connected more than others, and some "turn it off" through disbelief even though the connection could be "restarted" at any given time, given the right circumstances.

In the end we see that everything (all people, all things in the universe, through the laws of the universe, atoms, and everything in between) really IS connected, and so we find meaning once again... or is that just my culture talking?

TOMMY

2011-02-12T00:03:00.000-08:00

Tommy and I both wore 8-year old bodies the first time we kissed. I still remember, more than anything, the smell of kimchi on his breath. It stunk from afar – the rotten, spicy Korean cabbage dish that it was – and it stunk even more when it wafted in my face close up. Yet first kisses are always the greatest kisses because they linger on, much like kimchi, and the anticipation and preparation leading up to their making is sometimes methodical in delivery and full of expectation.

The fact that we planned this kiss, because neither of us had ever experienced one, surely was the reason it became a covert operation. We were horrified of the thought of any adult – or anyone else for that matter – seeing us touch lips, even in the public place called my back yard. We devised instead a plan to conceal the evidence, to canopy it so to speak, to raise a tent in the green grass using sticks, string, and an old pink and white checkered blanket that was almost too worn and thin to be opaque anymore.

The tent was open at both ends like the old pup style tent that had now become make-shifted and created by the minds of children, loose and imperfect, nearly formless, yet good enough to do the trick. Tommy and I separately entered from each end of the kissing tent, with our feet sticking out as the only evidence that included inferences to the deed. There within the magical confines of the tent walls shielding us from the peering eyes of the world, our faces glided together, and our small, never-more innocent lips touched ever so lightly in a single, unified expression of our simplistic desires. Tommy was the best kimchi I ever tasted.