Digital Stories

Let us be good stewards of the Earth we inherited.

2012-01-23T06:16:00.000-08:00

Let us be good stewards of the Earth we inherited.
All of us have to share the Earth's fragile ecosystems and precious resources, and each of us has a role to play in preserving them.
If we are to go on living together on this earth,
we must all be responsible for it. ~ Kofi Annan

Why I like this quote is that the author isn't afraid to call on us all to be responsible for the Earth.
His message is clear. He is not asking you to throw your trash in the receptacle, nor to buy and earth-friendly, environmentally approved product.

Do you feel a difference between these terms?
"Earth" vs "the environment"?

We began the "environmental" movement with Earth Day ~ when did loving the wild places and the commitment to preserve them for seven generation get dumbed-down and sanitized to be called, "the environment"?
Kofi Annan speaks with a "wilderness mind" calling for values for of a consciousness for Earth's precious resources.
It feels like the mind of modern man has usurped the original movement begun as Earth Day.
Now we have the faux green movement- "earth-friendly"- that isn't.
Today the word "green" is a marketing strategy, not really a consciousness.
This Earth.
This mother we call Earth.
Earth Mother.
Honor our source in this physical realm. Thank our Creator for the gifts we receive.
Earth consciousness is an awareness of more than the physical.
I believe that is the crux of the issue. If we use the term Earth, we evoke a spiritual consciousness.
The "environment" refers simply to our physical realities.
You feel the difference, don't you?

Poisons of convenience

2012-01-19T07:57:00.000-08:00

“Beware good people they’re fooling you,
trust them not, they are fooling you…

Beware, oh, take care.”

A favorite Pete Seeger tune of mine we used in the No Nukes campaign for nuclear arms moratorium.

I have let my guard down…I was fooled!

It is easy to understand how I could get fooled again.
Many faux green corporations are getting mighty crafty in these days, maintaining corporate greed of profit over people.
You know to whom I refer…many corporations have bought organic brands and now surreptitiously continue to poison us.

Wah!
I want to believe, I really do. I want to believe that we as culture, civilization we act on behalf of common good.
But I know, the battle wages for our health and control over safe food.

Seeds of Change
ORGANIC
Uyuni Quinoa and whole grain brown rice (with garlic)
Just microwave 90 secs in the pouch

My red flag went up~ after I bought these on impulse at Costco.

It is recyclable plastic, that is a plus, right?!
I asked myself, what is this #7 plastic?

Plastic #7: This number basically means “everything else”-composed of plastics which were invented after 1987. Polycarbonate falls into this category, including the dreaded BPA. So do modern plastics used in anything from iPods to computer cases. It also includes some baby bottles and food storage containers which resist staining. Use of #7 plastic is at your own risk, since you don’t know what could be in it. It is difficult to recycle #7 plastic and most curbside recycling programs won’t accept it.

Be aware that the convenience of microwave food could be harming you and your children. Food or drink containers made from #7 plastic should be approached with a good deal of suspicion. The bag doesn't say anything about BPA free!

Wilderness mind

2012-01-09T09:54:00.000-08:00

In his book, The Quest, Tom Brown, Jr. talks about "wilderness mind"- a way of being in this world.

I am one whose vision was blurred from not being balanced as I walked the Razor’s Edge… awareness and wilderness mind helped me regain balance and focus and maintain it today…

you can read the excerpt here:

http://www.wildwoodsurvival.com/wildernessmind/tbjwildernessmind.html

/We have choices in life, especially choices as to the way we think and how we view the world. It is these choices and these thoughts that make life ecstatic or debilitating./

/Things will get better if we all work hard and if we all love hard and laugh hard./

Love well and laugh hard, my friends.

Love of words- winnower

2012-01-08T09:27:00.000-08:00

Rather than a word "smith" hammering out meaning...
I look at myself as a word "winnower"~ throwing out words to see which fall to earth and sprout, grow and reproduce...
Epiphany~
I have loved this word I learned at an early age, I imagine from my church-going folks.
In the 50's and 60's my family life centered on the activities of the church of England. I loved the potluck church dinners and storytelling.
Epiphany to me has meant we turn the corner on winter towards spring. Solstice has passed and the light returns to the evening skies. Growing up in harsh winters, this meant hope for warmer weather.
After I lived in Mexico the significance was Dia de los Magos (Three Kings) and the countdown for Lent> which eventually in my life turned into King's Cakes and ticking off the days to Mardi Gras!

In layman's terms I use the word to signify an "AHA" moment, a realization; connecting the dots or some sort of insightful conclusion.
Today "epiphany" harkens back to its original meaning for me...Spiritual Awakening ~ vision of God.
Some translations for this Christian feast day are "The Day of the Lights"...also reference to "manifestations"-

I realize that for me, as Gary Snyder wrote, "Nature is not a place to visit, it is home.", my epiphany is choose to strive for a balance in modern society and in the natural world.

My aha moment is that I don't have to put away my childish things, such as my veneration for wild places and admiration for God's cathedral, the wilderness.
My aha moment is that in my lifetime I bear witness to unprecedented destruction of wilderness and natural areas in the name of progress to meet the demands of a burgeoning human population that cries for comfort and convenience.
Now I think of the word "creature comforts" ~ yet humankind's demands for plastics, cheap oil have really muddled up life on earth...
If we were more "creature" and less man, would we live like God's creatures and know better than to soil our own nests?
More than ever I turn to my faith in God to protect all creatures here below.
More than ever, I seek to find the spiritual solution to turn the tide in favor of the wild places...
...to wake up humankind to act to preserve our natural habitat!
Forget the whales! Save Earth Mother. Save our souls.
Yes, it is my faith in God, my belief system that I am grateful for today.
For in these times, it is our souls and hearts that will create a consciousness of hope for survival in desperate times.
Indeed, an SOS message for our generation that shares such an abundance...do you love enough to act to preserve the earth for seven generations hence?

THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS

2012-01-06T18:58:00.000-08:00

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
— Wendell Berry

Just a thought...

2012-01-06T05:26:00.001-08:00

The Imaginal Cell Story

The caterpillar's new cells are called 'imaginal cells.'
They are so totally different from the caterpillar cells
that his immune system thinks they are enemies... and gobbles them up.

But these new imaginal cells continue to appear. More and more of them!
Pretty soon, the caterpillar's immune system
cannot destroy them fast enough.
More and more of the imaginal cells survive.
And then an amazing thing happens!

The little tiny lonely imaginal cells start to clump together
into friendly little groups.
They all resonate together at the same frequency,
passing information from one to another.
Then, after awhile, another amazing thing happens!

The clumps of imaginal cells start to cluster together!
A long string of clumping and clustering imaginal cells,
all resonating at the same frequency,
all passing information from one to another there inside the chrysalis.

Then at some point,
the entire long string of imaginal cells
suddenly realizes all together
that it is something different from the caterpillar.
Something new! Something wonderful!
...and in that realization
is the shout of the birth of the butterfly!

Since the butterfly now "knows" that it is a butterfly,
the little tiny imaginal cells
no longer have to do all those things individual cells must do.
Now they are part of a multi-celled organism—
A FAMILY who can share the work.

Each new butterfly cell can take on a different job—
There is something for everyone to do.
And everyone is important.
And each cell begins to do just that very thing it is most drawn to do.
And every other cell encourages it to do just that.

A great way to organize a butterfly!"

*Adapted Version of Nori Huddle's story from her book, Butterfly

Acts of Man~ Earth changes around us.

2012-01-05T18:53:00.000-08:00

It is time for renewal. Like the butterfly we hope to transform from our chrysalis and break free from being earth bound.

May the earth's heart shine to light your way as we transcend and dance within the shadows with all of creation on the journey.

May you be guided by earth’s heart with an expanding brilliance as all of creation dances together in delicate balance co-creating a future of harmony.

I have been waiting my whole life for this.

The completion of 13 Baktuns.

The end of the Mayan Long Count.

The beginning of transitions based on Earth Movements.

From the Mixteca Codices.

Ollin.

2012~

Soon after midnight, the skies exploded with sounds of thunder and flashes on the horizon and airborne lights shimmered after streaking through the obsidian heavens-

Burned bottle rocket shards rained down to earth, some still smoldering.

Just as the logs on the fire were burning down to embers~ the wall of cold air enveloped the yard…

From Spring to Winter in 30 minutes.

From the North- wisdom, white/snow, cold, knowledge…lessons to learn, work to do.

Howling wind, uplifting, high flying winds with an intensity not likely to be forgotten soon.

You feel it, too, don't you? Apprehension about the future?
No, I don't mean the nonsense of the world coming to and end like Hollywood predicts...
Though there are changes occurring. Earth changes are upon us. Take heed.
You notice the odd weather, the dreadful news - close to home and far away.

The reality is in front of us daily~ take a look beyond the facade of the news.
I bear witness to the drought in Texas.
Thousands of trees dead, the agricultural economy in a tailspin.
Thousand of people arrive daily in droves to Texas from around the world because the state, as a whole, has a booming economy. Relatively speaking.
We exceed the carrying capacity of the land. We practice unsustainable, un-fair and un-natural agricultural practices....
Of course the polar ice caps are melting...
Our service men and women coming home from war with PTSD...

I am not a doomsday fanatic, nor am I denying the obvious present reality. Look around.
Here's one, not surprising at all to me:
One of the nation's most widely planted crops — a genetically engineered corn plant that makes its own insecticide — may be losing its effectiveness because a major pest appears to be developing resistance more quickly than scientists expected.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/45807933/ns/business-retail/t/bugs-may-be-resistant-genetically-modified-corn/

Then there are the Native American prophecies...
The earth needs to heal. The earth needs to purify.
Native American philosophy is that we need to protect the future for Seven Generations.
Will you act now? What will you do to secure the future for your grandchildren's children?
I have some ideas...
there are lots of concepts out there for "going green"- but it has to be more!
What if there was a failure in the power grid?

Like the 12 days of Christmas...Here are the twelve days of 2012...

We'll start with simple, easy things...

Click to promote rainforest habitat.
Recycle batteries if nothing else
Replace incandescent bulbs
Buy Local- shop at Farmer's Markets
Buy Made in America or second-hand stores
Reduce all around spending, especially those plastic purchases
Plant a garden
Learn an earth skill: start a fire with a bow drill
Learn an earth skill: build a solar still to collect water from the ground
Take a child for a walk outside and let them touch the earth
Plant a tree with a group of children
Sit in a quiet spot in nature and watch the sun set, imagining that sun setting on your grand children's children world.

Murmurrings of my heart

2011-12-02T06:26:00.000-08:00

My status update: I am pondering the new year and the collective human consciousness that is evolving in these times. I am looking for new language to convey what I observe and feel.
One of the emerging themes is certainly one of "heart", another "circles"~ primordial concepts that we need to revive in these times.
My message is, that in these times, more than ever, we must face our fears with open hearts.
Rather than fear, practice awareness~ observe and feel the unseen and eternal message of your heart.
Rather than isolation and xenophobia, we need to create community among all of our relationships.
Let's not skip our diverse biological communities.
The news is indisputable.
The polar ice caps are shrinking with an alarming rate.
The debate and blame game can rage as to "why?", but I prefer to ACT and not simply ReACT.
We have soiled our "nest" like no other species~ our social systems have become poisoned by misguided leadership throughout the centuries.
Yet, I see that there is an emerging consciousness, much like the murmurs of flocks of birds, shifting direction and regrouping to tack into the wind or glide on the wind.

How I redeemed my dream time

2011-10-28T05:59:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I was diagnosed with sleep apnea. After an uneasy night at the sleep disorder clinic, tossing and turning with wires attached to me while a video camera captured my every move, my suspicions had been confirmed. Now I can’t imagine a night’s rest without being attached to a machine that continuously blows air through my mouth and nose.

I am a mouth breather, allergy sufferer. I was raised in a loving household where all family members (four of them) chain smoked their Marlboros and Chesterfields. I remember at a very young age complaining about riding in a car with the windows rolled up because the smoke hurt my throat and eyes. I heard, “Children should be seen and not heard.” I could have been no more than 10 years old, when we went out for special Friday night fish fry with my godmother and her husband, after dinner when the air was thick with smoke, I would ask the adults to please not blow their smoke in my face. I heard, “Children should be seen and not heard.”

I surely thought I had won the argument when in the 1960’s, I brought home a graphic depiction of a diseased lung with emphysema. It was really gross. Sad to say within 20 years, my godmother was dead after a very painful struggle with that disease. Both my parents died at age 64 – from heart and lung disease. Eventually my sister, brother and mother and father gave up smoking- only after suffering tragically from disease. Oh, wait, my sister did not give up smoking until she died from a pulmonary embolism at age 60.

Fast forward to the present, as I turned 50 I was having more trouble sleeping. After endless nights of sleeplessness, I was diagnosed with anxiety and insomnia. To add insult and injury, I had a serious problem with mobility after a car wreck. The subsequent weight gain pushed me over the edge. I had a huge snoring problem along with everything else. I knew I had a problem from lack of sleep.
They noticed it at work, too. Irritability, memory issues- I made more mistakes than usual. My body showed several symptoms of being starved for rest. I resorted to taking sleeping pills at my doctor’s suggestion. I did not take his prescription recommendation for some of the other symptoms I was exhibiting.

My brother and sister, who also had issues with weight, had manifested major health issues as they entered their fifties about ten years before I did. My brother has had multiple heart surgeries: bypasses, stints and artery replacements. He proudly exclaims he lives a better life through pharmaceuticals. I am sorry to say, my sister passed away after just turning sixty. She tried to hide her smoking from her family.

My childhood memories include my mom snoring so loudly that it woke me up. She would fall asleep in her chair in front of the TV watching Johnny Carson. Actually it wasn’t her snoring that woke me up- it was her stopping snoring that left me lying in bed, waiting for her next breath to resume. I witnessed sleep disorders in my family before “sleep apnea” was popular in everyday conversations. My father also suffered from a sleep disorder. I am proud to say my Dad was a WWII veteran of Normandy Beach and the European theater. I am certain he had lots on his mind as a busy bank executive, as well. My Dad was not overweight, though he enjoyed his Manhattans and white bread. He had high blood pressure and was wound up pretty tight.
He was up at dawn and in bed at sunset…but he averaged very little sleep in his bed. He was so exhausted from lack of sleep, he would muster enough energy for dinner promptly at 6 PM and the news with Walter Cronkite and retire to his bed immediately!

By the time I checked into the sleep clinic, I was desperately aware my life depended on getting back a normal sleep pattern. Even though I was taking Lunesta, I knew that I wasn’t any more rested than without it…I simply didn’t remember each time I woke up during the night. I was getting up on average- 3-4 times a night with a trip to the bathroom. I worried how I would manage at a sleep clinic for a night begin watched by strangers.

It has not been an easy transition to tucking in at night with a plastic mask on my face with that steady whooshing sound so close to my ears. It took over a year for me to feel the good results. I tried nose pillows and chin straps so tight, my face bore welts from where the fabric pressed against it. I eventually gave up trying to keep my mouth shut at night. I really thought about using glue, I kid you not. Desperation.

I switched to a face mask and developed a rash. I asked my doctor if they would observe me and test me again in the overnight lab to see if I was waking up fewer times…they said “no”. They gauge the effectiveness of the treatment by the subjective way one feels. I did not “feel” better. My husband moved to another room to sleep as I fussed with the contraption by my bedside. I packed the damn thing up for hotel stays and travel. I hunted the grocery aisles for distilled water for the attached humidifier.

I did not give up my sleeping pills, though. So as a consequence, I did get accustomed to the unit and did get the face mask adjusted correctly. But I noticed I had “sleep amnesia”. I no longer had the dreams that I enjoyed so well- where I might work out a problem “in my sleep” or simply let images flood into my awareness from the past and the future.

Just this past Spring, I was involved in a class with guided meditations that focus on clearing away distractions to let “signs and message” arrive into our consciousness from the great mystery. My message was loud and clear! “Stop taking sleeping pills.” Hmmm. Okay, I will, I thought.
And it did take will- power to keep at it until….the breakthrough! A month later, I realized that I was sleeping throughout the entire night and actually felt refreshed upon waking! I had a new sense of “joie de vivre”.

My life is once again rich and full both night and day. I may still struggle to be comfortable with a plastic mask on my face and still wake up to a “whoosh” or that I removed the mask during the night. On average, I feel great.

I know that the time I am in bed, my body is resting. If I wake up I fall back asleep. I wake up with dry mouth wide open, adjust the mask and fall back asleep. I have reclaimed my dream time that means so much to me.

The journey has been the reward in this venture. I am pretty sure I come from a DNA line of phenotypes originating in the North Seas, where we needed that extra pound of flesh. I am genetically predisposed to all of the hazards of modern living: high blood pressure, stroke and heart disease. I choose to stop that pattern. I eat differently, I remain as active as I can, given the reality of osteoarthritis.

My educated guess is that why heart disease claims so many people in my family at young ages is because of undiagnosed sleep apnea. I am pretty sure that I have lost friends my age due to this not-so-silent killer. Do you know any roaring snorers? Are you kept awake waiting to hear an exhale from your partner?
Vale la pena.
Whatever the cost in discomfort, time and money, it is worthwhile: VALE.
It is worthwhile to pursue a medical solution to sleep disorders. It is so much more than a health solution.
You deserve the balance of body, mind and spirit.
Reconnect with the time and space beyond waking reality. Slumber, perchance to dream.

Reclaim your dreamtime.

Dried out

2011-10-02T07:13:00.000-07:00

Kudos to you Texas writers who write about place and continue to do so inspite of the dire nature of our environmental catastrophes this summer. The long, hot summer wore on me to an extent that I just did not care to describe. My reptilian brain took over and my metabolism slowed to a standstill in the heat.
I did take the time to lie on a rock or two to soak in vitamin D to boost my depression.
But that is about all the energy I could muster.
If I walk around the land that is so dear to me, now void of most vegetation, my instinct is fear and flight. Thirsty plants droop in need of water that I can't give them. Brown leaves cling to trees young and old, though it is not because of Jack Frost. Leaves underfoot crunch and disintegrate to dust.
The To Do list piles up in my neo-mammalian brain as I note dozens of trees that will have to be removed because they are dead.
I wonder if any trees can survive the uncertain future.
Around July we gave up on the ornamentals and even the vegetable garden.
Our precious water we save for the trees and to provide for wildlife.
All summer our bat friends visited, along with the usual hummingbirds and birds.
Unusually, we had a painted bunting frequent our feeder and bird baths.
I never quite managed a photo of him.
The summer began with the Osha Wildfire sweeping across the Sangre de Christo range south of Taos. With a sinking feeling as I read the first reports from Texas, I recognized the location as being very close to our place. In less than a week, we had planned to go and spend some time there.
Tues-Weds-Thurs passed with little information available. Some initial reports that were out there proved to be inaccurate later on. When I heard via Internet news, that the ski area of Sipapu was under "mandatory evacuation", I called neighbors to find out the facts. I heard the electricity was out at our place, which isn't that unusual! But a mandatory evacuation was not what I wanted to hear.
By Thursday afternoon, our man on the ground reported that the fire had changed directions about 10 miles from us, removing us from the path of danger. The fire spread to the north through wilderness lands.
Electricity had been restored in our neighborhood.
Though the road was closed and would remain so until Monday, residents would be allowed access to their property. All other traffic would be turned away. So, we left according to our original plan and arrived in the mountains Friday afternoon.
Regardless of the smoky air, not just from the Osha fire but from a huge Arizona fire in the Chiricahua Mountains, there was an awesome beauty to the area. The characteristic blood-red sunsets were even more intense filtered through a thick hazy atmosphere.
The silence from the absence of traffic and people was primordial. I heard an owl, I had never heard there before. I saw elusive elk that normally only left hoof prints and droppings along the trails.
It took a day or two until we headed to see what the fire had damaged.
Wildfire:
Predictable in as much as its path will follow wind currents and terrain.
Seemingly random areas were skipped and not charred.
Totally burned patches hugged the roadway.
Firemen remained on duty watching for hot spots flaring.
I have learned more about wildfires this summer than I care to.
We could not escape drought nor wildfire in New Mexico. Because it was mostly National Forest, experts were on the scene right away. The cause was attributed to a tree falling on a power line and sparking.
July- August in Texas- praying for rain, happy to get .04 inches twice.
Not even going to try to remember the record number days of temperature above 100 degrees.
Mind-numbing statistic.
Then the Labor Day fires hit Central Texas. At least three fires at once were uncontrolled and spreading fast.
Two to our north about 30 miles and moving towards us to the south. Another to the east by about 30 miles and heading south east.
The news kept our attention as we sighed in relief that again we were spared. Sadly our friends lost everything in the Bastrop blaze. They were among thousands of others.
Cause of the fire attributed to dead trees falling on power lines.
The distress to human, wildlife and environment is not over and is likely to continue.
"Spirit"- belief that a better day will come - while recognizing the gifts of today- gives me something to hang onto.
The elephant in the room is a natural world struggling to cope with burgeoning population, environment damage caused by ignoring natural laws. Desertification is occurring in the Southwest.
Populations are growing beyond the carrying capacity of the land. I mean land and water.
In the name of progress, with NAFTA opening up the borders and letting in Pandora~
in the name of economic growth, the area is blossoming flyover highways.
Concrete, cement and glass sprout in the downtown area where once I could see the Capitol Dome.
Uncontrolled growth is unsustainable in the region.
The wildlife urban interface needs to be considered as a priority.

I want to end on a note of gratitude and hope.
One of the ornamentals that has lasted, the Texas Sage, is a harbinger of hope.

Hard to see is the monarch butterfly clinging to a upper right branch.

I look at this photo and don't see the extent of the drought damage.

With my heart I am humble to bear witness to these times.

If it were not for these moments of beauty that show survivors in nature and her resilience ~

All that dries up is not dead.

I can feel my blood running easier as the cooler temperatures prevail.

I am grateful for the lessons of the summer and most appreciative of the return of Fall this year.

It's been a ride on the crest of the wave~

2011-07-03T08:48:00.000-07:00

Since Christina Baldwin's workshop, I have been riding high on the crest of a wave that is my life.

I *have* been writing.
Polished off an essay for a contest, spent a week in the mountains of northern New Mexico in the early Spring when there was still snow and cool enough to enjoy deep breaths.
Then there is the catching up to do upon return (April); Hasta la vista to my nephew and his fiance as they head off to Hawaii (May); another trip to the mountains for my birthday (June) and an entire shift of my life to focus on inter-species communication.
Sadly my writing has involved processing the loss of friends by using words of remembrance and tribute.

I have enjoyed immensely the synchronicity of multiple events since then- an entire 3 months ago.
I am not a pet dog trainer, come to find out. ( always knew it in my heart)
That label didn't quite sit well with me. I view what I do as 'educational consulting' about dog behavior, but when all is said and done, what I do is 'communication' with species of pets!
Inter-species communication includes animal behavior, but there is alot of anthropology in there, too!
There. That is settled now.
My journey is traveling towards work with dogs, birds and horses.
As this unfolds, I will certainly be processing it on my blog.

What I have learned from weeds (and other unintended and untended things that flourish on the edge of my horizon.

2011-07-03T08:37:00.001-07:00

Not all unintended and untended plants in the landscape are weeds.

Some weeds you can eat. And they taste very good.

Pick a small patch and begin the job.

Looking at the big picture when it comes to weeding can be daunting.

Sometimes it’s okay to let go and let them grow taller.

In order avoid disturbing lower-growing plants, I wait til I can grab them easier.

Be grateful that they are teachers.

Through drought, pestilence and adverse conditions, some plants will survive…what can I learn from this?

Enjoy the interspecies communication as you spend time outdoors in nature.

At least weeding gets me outside in the fresh air and sunlight!

Rooster crowin' at the break of day...must have something on his mind

2011-06-02T05:44:00.000-07:00

Morning at daybreak!
Lyrics of Bob Dylan run through my mind, "Meet me in the morning..."
What I like about listening to that little rooster crow is that his err-er-errrr-er-ooo- signals he is alive and thus, my hens have likely survived a night of predators.
It also means I have survived a night as well.
We both are alive and here to crow about it.
So it puts me in a bloggin' mood.
I had been looking in anticipation to a few weeks in the mountains...when a large forest fire broke out.
A force of nature with which to contend.
At this moment, I am not quite sure if we are able to get to our cabin as the road has been closed.
Can't blame campers or careless human behavior as they think that the wind knocked down a power line that led to the flames erupting amidst 25 mph winds.
Or another theory emerging is that a beaver took out a tree, that took out the power line.
/Fury/ is what the smoke looks like rising from the mountain ridges....wind-driven fury.
I believe that we are all related, that there is a spirit that moves in and through all things.
I can't help but feel a deep sadness of loss for the 1000's of acres burning to ash.
At the same time that I love patterns of nature- rooster's crowing to announce daybreak, other natural patterns seem harsh to me and harder to embrace with love.
The destruction of forest fires...the harm to plants, trees and wildlife, let alone property damage and human harm ... strikes fear into my heart.
I am trying to keep an open heart as the flames spread, as I know that the natural cycle of the forest has been thwarted for the last 100 yrs. The forests we love ... need to burn.
At the same time, I call those woods my home.
Back and forth, am I selfish to envision those flames stopping their leaping and crowning through the trees?
It isn't just my life impacted by the fire, so aren't I just being concerned for all living beings?
I empathize with all in the area....frightened wildlife and humans alike.
I draw upon my faith and trust in the greatest good for all concerned to keep hope alive.
I will keep listening for that little rooster at the break of day.

Breath of fresh air --- deeply breathed in

2011-03-07T12:01:00.000-08:00

I am feeling the awakening spirit of Spring! I am alive and grateful for the hope on the horizon.
I was pleasantly surprised by a Story Circle LifeLines Retreat with Christina Baldwin...
Perhaps because I had no expectation, except to be present for the event and drink it all in.
I was not familiar with any of her books.
A diary writer in the 60's, a dream journaler in the 70's and travel and spirit journey - journaler ever since, I had not come across her work prior to this encounter. That didn't matter for the spoken and unspoken experience was a profound experience of awakening.
The retreat was on my To Do List ~ I make lists more than write these days.
I have enjoyed Story Circle events in the past and was banking on this being lots of bang for my buck.
Wow. wow. wow.
As the time grew closer, I had an inkling of what was ahead as a ripple of interest ran through the current of conversation with some friends.
She is a mirror for the process that occurs among the group in attendance.
We engaged in PeerSpirit Circle Process: interactions that resonated deeply for me.

Her guidance seems effortless as her spirit is palpable in the midst. Reverence, respect, humor and connectedness...all components of the circle.

We discovered and rediscovered ourselves, our true essences and the light of others.
Gratitude that she invited us on the journey~
I invite you to join us in the circle.
http://story.peerspirit.com/

Collaborative leadership. Awesome.

Bright blessings~

Plastics - not the phony money credit card kind either

2011-02-08T06:00:00.000-08:00

1967- The Graduate
Mr. McGuire: I want to say one word to you. Just one word.
Benjamin: Yes, sir.
Mr. McGuire: Are you listening?
Benjamin: Yes, I am.
Mr. McGuire: Plastics.
-----------------------
To reiterate my premise- using PVC and plastic to create "hoop greenhouses" is like fighting for peace.
Let me spell that out- Poly Vinyl Chloride - eiuw- that doesn't sound as cute, now, does it?
Nor do I care for the sound of Poly Ethylene. They put that in our food! PolyEthyleneGlycol
The manufacture of plastics has wreaked havoc in our ecosystem with toxins spewed into our air, earth and water by unregulated factories around the world. Google dioxins, for instance-
The movement behind reusing grocery store plastic bags is grounded -not only in the fact that the bags blow around - looking trashy, but the manufacture of plastics is dirty and uses oil. Plastics=oil consumption.
"Peak Oil"..."limited resources"....these notions seem to have made into public consciousness to a certain degree.
But I am appalled at proliferation of plastic hoop greenhouses based on plastic and PVC!
People who are "green" are espousing this practice because 99 monkeys before them did it!
By the way, an animal behavior note: dogs also mimic other behaviors of people and dogs, so we are not the only species to "monkey see/monkey do".
Now, wasn't that a fun fact to find, amidst the sad commentary I make?
Modern day humankind tends not to look ahead or even look out for, the seventh generation out from today. Nor do we as primates with opposable thumbs tend to look beyond the facade of our modern day global economy/society/culture. A growing (burgeoning) global society based on oil consumption is not sustainable.
Unrest is growing at a faster rate as our world neighbors scramble for control of arable land and other scarce resources.
Here's something to ponder....we all know that China is the largest consumer of oil, right?
Well, that doesn't mean all those people are driving around in Ferraris- the oil is used in the Made in China manufacturing industry of PLASTICS. China consumes iron for steel manufacturing as well.
The resources exported to China are used in their industries, in turn, polluting that land.
I digress for a moment.
What is the point of taking your eco-friendly shopping bags to market if you are purchasing PVC and plastic to outfit your organic garden? It is not so much about the tiny flakes of degraded plastic that will find its way into the garden that should concern you (thought it will). It is the by product of the manufacture of plastic that has already polluted our drinking water more insidiously than DDT in the Silent Spring.
When people started complaining about industrial pollution in the USA, companies retreated to foreign soils to pollute there.
Out- of- sight - out- of- mind. Out of time.
People don't think of plastic as "oil" or "pesticide"....
What are alternatives for PVC frames?
Again- check it out- most chicken wire and fencing in "Made in China" these days...
What ever happened to glass cloches and bell jars?
I prefer bamboo! Grow your own. Not all bamboo will take over your yard...learn how to control it by planting in ground in large recycled plastic pots from Big Box nurseries or old coffee cans.
Of course hemp stalks would also work nicely, but I doubt if that will catch on among gardeners.
Did you realize many floating row covers are made of....plastics? Usually a polyethylene-
I hate to say this- using plastics for gardening is like using oil-based fertilizer, since the manufacture of plastics use oil and contribute horrible toxins.
An old-fashioned way would be to build a solid wood frame to support a light cotton cover that you would roll back on sunny days and cover on cold nights...

from

Pests of the Garden and Small Farm: A Grower's Guide to Using Less Pesticide ...

By Mary Louise Flint
All I am saying is give the earth a break.
What may seem convenient has hidden costs.
What about burlap? Cotton gauze weave? Muslin?
I would avoid plastic at all costs.
Of course it is nearly impossible to avoid Made in China, oil guzzling plastics.
We need more grow- your- own backyard gardeners to help our green planet.

It just seems so out of place to use nasty, nasty plastice in a garden meant to replenish our earth.
I have also seen non-plastic greenhouses made out of recycled windows....simple to construct if you do need to extend your growing season...
Mother Earth News had some plans for those.
I think anything is better than PVC and Plastic hoops.
To Native Americans, hoops are sacred objects with deep symbolism of our relationship with Earth Mother.
Hence, hoop dances....may the circle be unbroken...etc.
However in this instance, help me break the circle of the use of plastic hoop gardening!
Keep on growing!

Good intentions...

2011-02-07T08:07:00.000-08:00

I think we are on the right track to have our backyard gardens.
I love my raised beds.
Oh, how I wish I could grow herbs and veggies all year 'round- wouldn't you?
Largely I am an 'afficionada'of organic gardening because I want to give back to this planet what it has given me over the years and years yet to come.
I have chickens that eat bugs and compost waste- to give me poop to put in my compost- to enrich my soils, etc. etc. You get the idea. Cycling.
I do not, however use the ubiquitous and popular hoop garden covers for this reason:
PVC manufacturing leaves dioxin and other toxins in our water and environment.
Check this out *yourself* if you think this is perpetrated by the lunatic fringe.
It is not the PVC pipe degrading into the soil-so much at issue- it is the process by which it is made. Plastic=oil consumption. Vinyl is not earth-friendly at all.
The use of petrochemical products is not green.
Like we said in the 70's - "Fighting for peace is like...."
well, some of you might remember this common retort!
The point is this-
to make a garden that you want to be good for the earth and organic with PLASTIC and PVC is...well, like screwing for chastity. There I said it.
Excuse the expression. I never do pull it off coming off all Zen and New Age-like.
I am an old hippie radical.
I will try one more time:
Please be mindful of the use of PVC- its manufacture creates dioxin in our environment. In Canada especially, First People have dioxin in water due to PVC manufacturing. I learned this from a gentle, old native soul.
Please be mindful in the use of toxic and energy hog (plastic) materials.
http://www.mindfully.org/Plastic/PVC-Primary-Contributor-Dioxin.htm
LOVE the idea of the design- what is substitute for PVC and plastic?
May I suggest bamboo and floating row cover?
Check it out for yourself...dioxin is present in many "wild" Canadian rivers- related to plants manufacturing PVC-
Be mindful of plastics based on lots of oil production.
Reuse- recycle-relearn
PVC is BAD idea for gardens- please research it yourself.
Not environmentally safe.
It doesn't make sense to use plastics in trying to enrich the planet...the resources used to make these (OIL=PLASTIC) offsets any benefit to our one green earth.

Wild animals captive in a world apart-no way to live.

2011-01-16T12:28:00.001-08:00

Conversation came up again about why I changed my opinion from wanting to swim with dolphins to becoming an advocate for doing away with tourist-based dolphin programs.
For one reason, I watched The Cove, an extremely radical movie about how we treat dolphins in general. It broke my heart to hear Ric O’Barry’s account of how Flipper died.

Also as I learn more about animal behavior I believe it is simply inhumane to think that wildlife can be happy removed from the wild. Not to mention the wild capture of animals has depleted the populations around the world. Look at the tropical bird trade and what it has done to decimate parrot populations in the wild. With jungle habitat being destroyed and then nests being preyed upon to sell chicks for export, it is no wonder wild populations are threatened. Sadly I witnessed this in Southern Mexico where birds and animals are still poached for a very robust market in exotic wildlife.

The argument I hear is that it is okay if wild animals are born in captivity, then they are domesticated. Some one gave the examples of dogs. Good, let’s consider the difference with the domestication of the dog.

From the work of Ray Coppinger, we know that domestic dogs most likely did not result from cave men and women rearing wolf pups that morphed into domesticated dogs.
In fact, anyone who has even a wolf hybrid dog today realizes that a wolf can never be “domesticated” even if reared as a pup.
What most likely occurred is that domestication happened very slowly through self- selection. In other words, wolves domesticated themselves, so to speak. Wolves that were less skittish around human populations scoured garbage heaps near early villages. These animals survived and raised their pups in the same environment. Over time, nature selected for wolves that were adapted to being around humans. Perhaps then the pups of these wolves were raised in captivity, but the entire process took thousands of years.

I love animals. I am so saddened when I hear of trainers killed in zoos are Theme Parks with wild animals like dolphins and animals. I get that it is through zoo’s that public awareness can be made of disappearing habitat, etc. However, in this day and age, I think I prefer the idea of the virtual zoo. Cabella’s and Bass Pro have their exhibits of stuffed animals. Why don’t we create jobs and teach people to create artificial stuffed animals for display? Why do we have to keep wild animals in cages for tourists?
Just a thought. Time to reform how the public sees wild life. Let’s create virtual 3D zoos or ones that are like Madame Tussauds wax museum.

Lessons learned from Canine Companions

2011-01-09T11:15:00.000-08:00

Many of us reflect at the beginning of the new year. I have been thinking about why I love working with other people's dogs and my own so much. After all, the verb "work" does not always have a positive connotation.

To me, there is "good work", as in the concept of "meaningful work" serving the greater good. I have been a professional in the field education my entire career, for instance, because I believe in the value of public education. Yet, I can see where public education is failing some segments of our diverse communities. School teachers strive for "good work" as evidenced by the many sacrifices they make to serve other people's children. Of course teachers are in it because we are rewarded in many ways and we are lifelong learners ourselves. I tend to agree with the sentiment, that every one you meet is one's teacher in some way.
I extend that to the dogs I meet now, as well.
Good work could be what brings passion to your life.
In my case, I am passionate about learning more about dogs and sharing that with anyone who will listen and act!
This morning I looked at my dogs, who were eager to get the day going by playing outside, even though it is very cold and wet out there.
When you have spent time and energy to foster good relationships with dogs, these are the lessons I have learned.
1.) Time's awastin'! Get up and let's go play. Let's have some fun right now!
Opal's eyes on me urge me to get up out of the chair, go outside and get some fresh air. Her coal black eyes plead,"Time is fleeting, we have so little time together, please, let's go enjoy it together." Her Zen-like approach to life is right, you know. Make the most of the present. Act. Now. Be present.
If she wasn't as insistent, I would not go on as many walks, nor notice the delights of the changes in weather. I would be content to stay in my chair and would miss that sensation of greeting a new day when the cold air is warming and rising from the ground after a night's long rain. Their delight at greeting the day at dawn, becomes my delight. They teach me to look at life through canine eyes.
2.) Take the time to stretch when you get up. There is plenty of time to stretch and yawn.
Jasper has rear hip and leg issues. Though eager to go outside to see what mischief the squirrels are into, he takes his time to limber up with a slow yoga-like downward dog pose. I have learned to warm up, too, as the wear and tear on my body is becoming more evident the older I get. Good advice, Jasper. Thanks.
3.) Some friendships take longer to cultivate. But they are worth taking the time and effort.
Scooter, a darling Norfolk terrier from the streets, is cautious of new people. He is obviously attached to his new human, but not so willing to approach me. As we share dog stories and sometimes laugh at our exchanges in a light mood, Scooter's new person points out to him- lying on the floor - stretched out on his side between us. I have become more aware of my tone of voice, body posture and my general emotional state because of lessons learned from dogs.
4.) Good humor goes along way.
To say the least, Opal is persistent in her attention-getting strategy. When she is over-the-top, however, she is polite enough to go lie down, per request. She has found that showing me how much fun she is having tossing her ball in the air and catching it herself or batting the ball around like a soccer ball under the couch, making a goal, can entice me to join in her game. Her joyful antics do capture my attention. She can bounce the ball off the floor and catch it herself . She will silently sit staring quizzically and undeterred at a chair where the ball has disappeared until she is noticed. Though an expert tease, she is good humored enough to share her toys with you.

5.) If you are like an aunt to your friends' dogs, you don't end up with so many dogs in your house.
Since I love all sorts of dogs, it would be so hard to choose a favorite breed or temperament.
I like feisty, tenacious, mellow, short-legged, long-legged, 4-legged, 3-legged, friendly, cautious, confident, insecure. Having the chance to visit with friend's dogs (and clients) fills me up with that experience I need to interact with all different kinds of canines. Otherwise I am sure I would have at least a dozen dogs living in my small abode with me.

Leisure time

2010-12-31T07:03:00.000-08:00

Free time. Unoccupied time. Does one have to wear a leisure suit to experience leisure?
I have enjoyed a few months off of responsibilities to lead a casual life of scheduling at my convenience.
Well. Not exactly. I still have a day job. But how great it has been to have some choice in November as to how I spend my time.
Do people who are tied to a 40-60 hr week job like to read about other lifestyles that are not constrained by the responsibilities and commutes of working stiffs?
I know, my friends who are self-employed "work" too... times are hard- I am sure they would prefer not to have as much 'leisure' time.
I read of Facebook friends collecting unemployment benefits and read of their travels and exploits of their "free" time.
It is natural to think of time when the world is pausing to reflect on the passage of time.
A decade. A year. Gone.
I long to have leisure time to write more, garden more, landscape, think, work on art projects, train dogs, organize the piles of clutter that accumulate.
2011 marks a way point on my journey to a new lifestyle of less scheduled time,but more "work", I hope. As in good work or right work.
Hope for a future filled with right work.
Sadly I leave the world of public education with a cynicism that has made my light of hope sputter and nearly fade away.
For most of my life I have focused on making a difference, supporting a paradigm shift in American education. Status Quo reigns.
Our system of education is woefully antiquated. Our practices are legacy of an agrarian society and an industrialized society.
Most people think that students are supposed to sit in a class and listen.
Yet I know of very few adults who can sit in a room and listen to each other.
The model of learning is "I tell and you listen." No wonder grownups have lost the art of meaningful dialogue or the lost art of conversation.
Instead we listen to the rampages of radio show talk hosts who are hardly educated at all.
The results of our public education system are masses of unemployed and/or people who listen to eccentric loud mouths spewing opinion over the air waves.
Daffy Duck sputters inaccurate drivel, inciting rage, not insightful reflections.
So it goes.
Until public educators change the notion that learning is nothing more than showing up to class and sitting in a chair to listen to a teacher, we will not have a populace of critically thinking, reflective people.

It felt like coming home

2010-10-06T17:56:00.000-07:00

It felt like coming home
To a familiar place
It was quiet
all fresh and new
but the same
The same large oak trees
The same trails
It felt like coming home
The spirit of the place
has not changed.
I walked alone under the canopy of leaves
to find the bench in its spotlight
Under the trees
On the edge of Cactus Cove
I sat and remembered
No dog to hug
My tears were happy ones, I think.
It felt good.
Good memories embraced me.
Gratitude to have this moment again.

Confluence

2010-07-31T13:14:00.000-07:00

"Sail with me unto the unknown voyage that has no end." Arlo Guthrie
I have reflected on that phrase since high school.
Today I am reflecting on how sailing at sunset and into the night is a metaphor for my life.
On a lake the horizon opens up to 360 degrees. You can see clearly the western sky, mellowing with sun rays down-shifting from vibrant red, to cool melon and at last faint yellow/pale pink.
The perfect time and place to witness transition from day to night.
Clarity of vision at the same time light is actually dwindling.
What is clear to me that living in the now and being present with wind on your face, sloshing water beneath your feet and wind in your sails is a rich and fulfilling life. Something so primal about bobbing on the water. I felt like my Dutch ancestors would have gazing at the heavens in awe at so many points of light.
Then in a heart beat conditions change, wind shifts, come about- nearly perpendicular to the water's edge.
Whoa there!
28 years after publication, I picked up Work of Her Own by Susan Wittig Albert. Confluence of her thesis and a conclusion I have drawn...I need to quit waiting to do all the things I need to do in life and do them.
Thing is, with me...I took the time in my 20's-30's to be a part-time hippie finding myself --knowing myself, etc. and have been fairly happy with career choices. I am fortunate to have a job where I can be creative.
Yes, I want more. I want to captain the ship.
Now I don't mean metaphorically...gonna get that certification...
'Gonna sail out on the ocean, gonna ride my pony on my boat' as Lyle Lovett would say.

Fox investigation

2009-12-21T05:31:00.000-08:00

It's mating time for foxes in Central Texas. Finally identified the sound in the night we have been hearing.
Ron said he had heard it for several years while he walked the dogs around the property.
He said he had heard it from inside the house in the wee hours of the morning, too.
We were sitting around the firepit Friday night, as I wanted to see some of the Geminid meteor shower.
The weather was clear in the 40's.
Out of the still, crisp night air came an unidentifiable animal noise.
It was the first time in all the years we lived here that we remarked to each other..."What was that?"
I went down the list of what it wasn't.
First, though it sounded like a howler monkey, I had to eliminate that option since we weren't in the jungle.
It wasn't an owl, though it was more of a screech than anything else. Definitely not a bird, I was confident of that.
A cat? A bobcat? Not a domestic cat. Ringtail cat?
How do you describe it? Howl? Cry? Shriek?
Short vocalization.
A fox?
Just a week previously I had done some "caving" for the first time in years. I was crawling with my belly in mud to retrieve the glow-in-the-dark ball that Opal, my dog, dropped into the known animal den that has been there since I can recall. Over the years, the critter had dug it out more and more with the soft dirt piling up to create a sizable sinkhole under the exposed limestone ledge. I had thought it may be an armadillo burrow, but a friend with more tracking experience than I, thought it could be a fox den. Though I have tracked foxes over moss in the Pine Barrens, NJ, the problem here was that my dogs covered any tracks left behind by the inhabitant.
I had built up a sort of roof of oak and cedar limbs to protect the hole from the dogs digging it out.
This day, though, there was Opal flinging the soft dirt out of the entrance. I told her to stop it before I understood what was going on. I didn't see the ball in there at first.
She is persistent. Finally I gave a closer look and saw the ball, deep in the hole, out of reach.
Recent rains made the ground muddy and clay-like sticky. But Opal was not deterred, so I thought, she can wriggle her way into the opening and get it herself. "Go get it!" I encouraged her and she dove down towards the ball. She knocked the ball further down the hole. Frustrated, she now set to digging at the dirt and sent it flying everywhere... into my face and hair...
She entered the cave but for her white plume of a tail that shot straight up into the air.
I could see her getting stuck and wondering what I would do then.
When she extricated herself, I could see more dirt pushed into the opening than removed. The ball was not in sight. Okay, I thought. I resigned myself to deconstructing the roof of logs so I could get a better look.
Log by log I carefully removed each one and set it aside. I still couldn't reach into the hole that was at the bottom of a 4 ft incline of dirt and then back under chalky limestone bedrock.
Since I hadn't identified what lived there, I wasn't about to blindly stick my hand into the darkness to grope for the ball.
"I am a caver. I can do this." I thought, now resigned to getting dirtier than I was.
There I went, down on my belly, head first, my legs reached out behind me, setting me nearly standing on my head into the opening. At least I could see the ball, though it was still a foot farther under the rock.
In went my head and shoulder and at last I grasped the ball in a successful rescue!
Opal was over-joyed. I was muddy. I rebuilt the roof of logs over the entrance that reminded me of a southwestern pithouse or kiva.
Yes, it must be foxes, I thought as I recollected the fox hole.
Admittedly I had never identified the sounds before.
I have lived here for 25 years.
Friday night, I left the fire to run to my computer to search Google for fox noises.
Sure enough, we found several examples on YouTube.
It was a male calling out establishing his territory.
I then wanted to know more about the gray fox.
I dug out my field guides and still was left in the dark about the wide range of their calls.
I did find out that this is mating season, but not one single guide mentioned their vocalizations which was key for identifying a nocturnal critter you can't see at night.
From what I learned there are playful barks of the young, louder growls when they fight and this yap/scream that establishes territory.
Later that night, towards dawn when I was in the house in bed, I heard the noises again right outside the window.
For now the chickens are safe and I am happy to know that the life cycle of the gray fox is perpetuated at Dewberry Hill. I am glad they share their territory with us.

Rain falls gently today

2009-11-20T10:31:00.000-08:00

Feels like Spring, not November. Warm showers.
I am thinking about the safety of place, looking at patterns and analyzing what to change.
Discussion of place and attachment to land must include my four-legged companions I would imagine.

My best lil buddy, Opal, precious gem, has been ill with what I am beginning to think could be an environmental hazard. In the last 3 months she has had HGE ("Hemorrhagic GastroEnteritis (HGE) in dogs is a sudden-onset episode of vomiting and diarrhea, often very bloody in nature.")
My other dog also was treated for vomiting and diarrhea symptoms in the last year.
I look at the bucket of water left outside for them, handy in a hot summer for them to drink. It is galvanized metal, made in China. When combined with the ground water, heavy in calcium carbonates (limestone), what you end up with is a chemistry experiment. CaCO3- commonly found in our "hard" drinking water, but excessive consumption can be hazardous.
So in my mind, all my experience is computing the equation...caves form from ground water eroding through rock, drip, drip, drip. Corrosive effect of acidic water so great it cuts through bedrock!
The cogs turn slowly in my brain.
Another small bit of information. Zinc-coated birdcages imported from China have killed many a parrot, so that warnings have gone out to be careful not to poison birds with zinc....
tick, tick, tick...
Zinc is what the water bucket is coated with. Zinc is even needed in plant and living organisms...how does it become toxic to life?
I found warnings online about preventing dogs from eating pennies...
Swallowing a post-1982 American one cent piece (97.5% zinc) can cause damage to the stomach lining due to the high solubility of the zinc ion in the acidic stomach.
but nowhere did I find a connection to galvanized buckets being a problem.
I think that may be the source of my dogs' HGE.
Galvanized water bucket for outdoor water.
I think I can connect the dots on this one and can say that I will replace the outdoor bucket with stainless steel.
Observing patterns in nature, human behavior and animal behavior is the hallmark of the scientist.
I'd like to shout out a warning against using galvanized buckets for dog water.

Winter sky-delight!

2009-11-16T05:33:00.000-08:00

This morning the first serious norther blew through. Mostly dry, we only collected .08 inches in rain gauge. Oh, the sky!
Like the underbelly clinging beneath a Canadian goose headed south, gray, downy clouds scooted swiftly along the horizon at day break. The movement was measurable even as I drove into the city.
Cold air pushed the clouds, a faint cerulean gap between two flat layers hinted at the start of day. It was the top layer that reminded me of a bird in flight- the top was rounded, fluffy with shades of gray so 3 dimensional that it gave life to the clouds.
Brrr!
This weather dropped serious snow along the Sangre de Christo mountains.
Wonderful, seasonal weather.
Blessings.

My favorite storytellers...

2009-11-14T13:23:00.000-08:00

I must honor the voice of one of my greatest teachers, Tom Brown, Jr.
I devoured his books about 10 years ago and traveled to his camp in the Pine Barrens for some of the most unbelievable experiences of my life.
Healing myself, while learning how to care for the earth.
Again, when the news seems to be all bad, I have tended to drop the ball and run.
I found this quote today to speak to me again as though it was new.
The excerpt refers to living one's Vision. I have grown complacent. I do want to share these books with you.
The Tracker, The Journey, The Search...Let me just link to the Tracker School....

...It is these choices and these thoughts that make life ecstatic or debilitating.

For those of us who have a Vision to see this world change, we have no choice but to work within society to bring about this change. We are tired of the pollution, the wars, the hatred, the prejudice, and the constant destruction of the Earth. We can see beyond the trappings of the flesh and into a world of spiritual riches.
There is more for us in life than the nine to five work ethic and a life of clocks, finances, and shallow living.
We are governed by a strong Vision to get people back to the Earth, to basic and real values, and closer to the world of spirit.
Those with Vision know that they cannot run away and hide, for there is no place to hide.
We know that we must bring our Vision back to society or we become responsible for the destruction of the Earth.... The Quest

November 11th - Bearing Witness

2009-11-12T08:07:00.000-08:00

Bearing witness to both the beauty and the pain of our world is a task I want to be part of.
As a writer, this is my work.
By bearing witness, the story that is told can provide a healing ground.
Through the art of language, the art of story, alchemy can occur.
And if we choose to turn our backs, we've walked away from what it means to be human. --Terry Tempest Williams

What it means to be human. My life's musing.
What a delight to find writers who share my curiosity.
What has helped me bridge from reader to writer was the realization that, I may not have anything new to say, as my observation are likely to be shared by others, say for example, the observation of a sunrise.
However, my words, that I choose to express it, will be unique and like no others.
At first I would read my favorite authors whose works resonate with me, like Susan Tweit and Susan Wittig Albert and think. "That is the same thing I thought! I wanted to say that! Oh, now you have said that, I can't. It's too late."
Ah, but now I know differently. True, I have not yet "published" my words, but I can choose my words to be my own unique language of shared human experiences.
I discovered an example of this phenomenon I will call, "Oh, that's what I wrote in my journal...only you wrote it first in a book!" last night while waiting to meet my nephew for a family dinner in recognition of Veteran's Day. My nephew is stationed at Ft. Hood where he is responsible for 174 "souls", I call them.
I prefer to think that the etymology of the word for soldier is derived from "soul" than the Roman word for "payment".
A few mornings ago I wrote about how fog made me feel closed in- focused on what is right in front of me.
A wonderful, cozy-feeling that sort of brought me back to earth in contrast to a bright sunny clear day, when my reflections seem to evaporate into the clear blue heavens- out into the great wide open. Or I wrote about the contrast with the night sky and its limitlessness.
I read William DeBuys in The Walk write about the forest as I wrote about the fog!

The night sky embodies a similar unboundness in its repetition of stars.
In the forest, the heaven's sensation of infinity comes all the way down to the earth.

There is my example of a pondering that I wrote about in this blog in my own words, but found articulated in this book published in 2007. I now know as a writer, I may not write about something brand new, but I interpret experience through my eyes and use my own language to share the human condition with others.

Not a Rosey picture

2009-11-10T18:32:00.000-08:00

Writing about home or sense of place isn't always about rosey sunsets and flowers in bloom.
Sometimes, I feel downright defensive and protective of my place.
For me, at the heart of writing about sense of place is writing about relationships.
I think of the Lakota prayer "All my relations" Mitakuye Oyasin.
We are all related.
I am rooted in place with the human relationships for sure. The most powerful relationship I have with this land is that I was able to come by it from my parent's inheritance. I am attached to it as it was a gift of my parents to me.
I am related to so much more. I mean I feel related the limestone bedrock and even the ball moss (Tillandsia recurvata) clinging to the crowns of the Live oak. This plant is not a moss, but an epiphyte with flowers and seeds. A member of the bromeliad family (like the pineapple), it is also known as an "air plant" that attaches itself with pseudo-roots.
Bromeliads are ancient in the scheme of things. They make me think of prehistoric times when Central Texas was a great sea. It was after the Jurassic era, the Cretaceous period, when so many of the caves were formed here.
This is the same geological time period in which most of the oil reserves are found. Oil and gas.

I love paradox and here is one. In evolutionary theory, homo sapiens evolved from the sea. The seas from which the bedrock of Texas are made. Tons of sediment settled and formed the fossils I sit upon in my backyard today.

It is the other gift from this ancient period that so impacts our lives today. Peak Oil. Oil.
To follow my thread of thought here...I am going somewhere with this, I promise.
My roots in place here started in Austin with a group of people who united to make an impact in our community some 30 yrs ago. We were The Mobe. Mobilization for Survival. We protested Nukes, unfair labor practices and generally learned alot about social consciousness. Our alliances with the Friends or Quakers in Austin were strong. I remember Martin Sheen attending Duncan Earl's slide show on Guatemalan refugees that I was videotaping for Austin Community Television. I was so intent on the subject matter of Guatemalan issues, I didn't seize the moment to interview Martin Sheen with the camera I had.
Some of the people I knew then have resurfaced on Facebook, but one friend has never swayed from his committment. T. Paul Robbins has been publishing the Environmental Directory for as long as I can remember.
I helped proof this 2006 Edition.
I wish more people had his dedication. I share the results of his work here.
http://environmentaldirectory.info/Austin/
Energy and the Environment
    Introduction
1. Petrolistan -
    Oil & War
2. Fire on Ice -
    Liquefied Natural Gas
3. Ten Things People Can
    Do To Use Clean Energy
4. Out of the Wilderness -
    Strategies Austin Can
    Take for Clean Energy
This is part of writing about place. It is writing about relationships.
It isn't always easy.
I value all my relations.

Ah, it's a cloudy day!

2009-11-09T07:56:00.003-08:00

I like cloudy days.

True, I had my share of bright sunny days this summer to last a long while. I suppose the gray days are a novelty.

Upon reflection, it seems to me to be a chance to focus here and now and not be gazing into the past or future.

Especially at night, when I gaze into clear heavens, I can’t help but think of the past. Seeing stars reminds me of how humans mark time. I think of geologic time measured. I think of how ancient people looked at the same planets and stars that I look at. I ponder that crazy notion of “light years”.

I remember stargazing from the mountain top or laying on my back in sand at the seashore.

A cloudy night on the other hand, has me staring at what is in front of my face: silhouettes of branches, chunks of limestone fossil. Drift wood on the beach. The darkness is a sealed envelope that prevents my looking beyond this world to the infinite spaces of the Milky Way.

I regard the absence of clear skies at night or blue skies during the day the same way. If the sun is up early and shining brightly, I am seduced to wake up and head to the light of day! My pace is quick to cover ground in order not to miss what may sprout up this morning!

I love sparkling clear days with blue skies. Especially the way the light is in New Mexico or at high elevations in Mexico. But my attention is far away; as far as I can see. I soak in the visuals: the distant mountain peak, the pine-covered ridge, the rolling valley and faded blue hills on the horizon.

But when the clouds conceal the sparkle of sunlight, my pace is slower. I notice the things close in.

I like to be reminded to use other senses than sight, when that visibility is reduced.

I remember the smells more on a cloudy day. I remember the muted quietness.

Nature reminds me to be still.

Drizzlin

2009-11-08T10:49:00.000-08:00

One of those mornings that brings everything close in. I am loving how the "backyard" has changed from thirsty vegetation to new green life sprouting up every where.
A nice steady soft rain filters out the past and future to focus on present.
Suddenly the metal roof is pounding as rain is unleashed from the heavens in a downpour.
This is my idea of a life well-lived: to have the time to stop to listen to the rain, to saunter around through the landscape.
Since I collect wild herbs to add to the salad or stew pot, I can't bring myself to rid the area of chickweed, chenopodium, henbit, cleavers, or what some people call "weeds".
Rather I thin these plants from areas where they might choke out a purple salvia or entwine my struggling tagetes lucida, an herb I am cultivating to use like tarragon.

Though it may grow wild in the mountains of Oaxaca, it needs nurturing in my garden this year. "Yauhtli" in the Nahuatl language, it has a rich heritage in lore and is used to adorn the ofrendas for Dia De Los Muertos.

It cousin, Tagetes lemmonii, the Copper Canyon Daisy, does better in my unamended soil. Both are bright additions to the limestone landscape of my backyard.
I need to build a fence to keep the chickens out of the garden. I was set on getting my chickens this spring. I have sorely neglected my garden for past several years, since the drip irrigation line was torn up by puppy exuberance. We finally replaced the garden fence to keep dog paws out, but did not replace the water lines.
I had not tended my garden closely during the summer drought and was not prepared when the tomatoes perked up and began to be draped with tomatoes!
I collect the hen's eggs from the coop and they steal my tomatoes.
They think the exchange is fair. So do I for now. How many green tomatoes does a person need, after all?

Bulbine frutescens is a new addition of fall color to the rock wall.
It likes dry, hot weather! Who could ask for anything more?

Saturn Pluto square - Hold on for the ride!

2009-11-06T06:10:00.000-08:00

This might be a foreshadowing of the Saturn Pluto square that is powering up in the heavens now. Breakdowns, violence and the misery of the masses are suggested by this most difficult pair of heavyweights in a challenging square.

Where? How? We don’t know. But astrologers have seen this square in the heavens many times and there is always a period of great turmoil and difficulty here on Earth during these months. It is a time to move cautiously and slowly toward your objectives.

Lance Ferguson
My attention turned towards the heavens this morning, prompting me to add a few more minutes to my commute in order to see the grand finale of dawn unveiling the birth of the new day.
I am reminded of Mayan mythology of the Hero Twins representing the dance of the migratory path of the Sun and Moon each day. Mythical aspects of true astronomical patterns, the Hero Twins' lives revolve around their daily passage through the heavens and down into the underworld. Neptunian underworld. The world of dreams and caves. A land where I feel at home. These archetypical images related to birth and rebirth are as relevant to the human condition today as 10,000 years ago.
Dionysian lyrics of Jim Morrison were an anthem of my youth.
The day destroys the night, Night divides the day, Tried to run, Tried to hide, Break on through to the other side!
I share an affinity with Mayan mythology from watching the mystery of the movement of sun and moon myself! Even from my vantage point as a "Western" (as in Civilization as opposed to Texan) scientist, I embrace the great mystery of being able to observe time marching on!
This morning I was witness to the glory of the new day unfolding on the horizon.
I head east under the ink sky where the faintest glow illuminates the silhouetted hills.
Venus, just a pinpoint of light in contrast to the luminous glow peeking over the edge of night, is a prominent planet on my natal chart. The morning star and evening star.
Duality. A perfect icon for my Gemini spirit that encompasses paradox and contradictions. Night and day.
I am made up of many cultures.
My world view has been expanded from growing up in the 1950's, protesting the wars of the 1970's,living in Mexico, caving, archeology and immersing myself in my world around me.
My journey progresses eastward mirroring the path of Xbalanque, following the emerging light of the predawn sky.
As I drive for 30 minutes, the underworld releases the sun to the sky.
Finely-contoured shadows unzip to reveal strips of pastel hues that defy ordinary descriptions.
Um- that is close to a watermelon pink.
The moment is mutable. I look hard at the layers of colors hanging between light and dark.
Pink layers streak across the sky. No, that word does not describe the color.
This painting this morning is filled with pale watercolor hues. Melon. No. I can’t get it right. Visual richness does not translate to any vocabulary I can find.
The prayer/meditation comes to mind- this is attributed to Stalking Wolf or Grandfather:
Let me find awe in the simplest of your gifts.
I tend to take dawn for granted each day. It signifies another drive away from home into the city.
If I witness the miracle of the moment of night slipping into day, it strikes me as anything but simple.
Today, however, I am awed by the transitioning twilight to silvery skies.
This crepuscular creation captures my spirit.
This is the cusp of what separates aspects of our lives.
I witness the measure of time marked by changing heavens.
It is as though I witness the measure of my days before me.
This eternal event before me marks my mortal life.
I learn to be awed by each day before me.
Gratitude for the lesson.

Tribute to Fort Hood and military families

2009-11-05T16:04:00.000-08:00

It doesn't matter what side of the political fence you are on, a tragedy like this at our local military base unifies families and neighbors around the country.

Two years ago I made a Digital Story about my family's connection to Ft. Hood.
My father served in the 4th Infantry Division that is headquartered in Killeen, Texas.
My nephew is following his grandfather's lead and is currently serving in the Army at that base. Over the past 5 years, I have visited the base for the sad departures and the jubilant homecomings. I put aside my political feelings for the love of family.
My heart goes out to everyone touched by this senseless act of violence.
May families find peace and strength in the comfort of loved ones.

I read the words on the web page. Shooting at Ft. Hood. My face feels hot, my chest tightens and it’s difficult to breathe. I know that Ft. Hood is the largest military base in the world. The odds are that my sister’s son, my godson, my nephew, is not in harm’s way. But I don’t know that for sure.
After my nephew was deployed twice to Iraq I have an emotional response to news related to the Army at Ft. Hood. He chose this career and he is good at it.
I am impressed with the caliber of people who are his friends. They take care of each other. They are intelligent, well-rounded family people.
It’s the not knowing.
I know myself well enough to know that I will obsess looking for information on the Internet.
I send off an email to his Blackberry, knowing that he will be busy looking after those in his command.
I don’t want to bother him.
I imagine he is fine.
Time marches on. I realize any reports this early will be wrought with misinformation.
I leave work and drive home. There I get the message he is fine.

River of Life

2009-10-17T20:50:00.000-07:00

Friday I looked forward to the gorgeous Fall weather and camping out on the Medina River at Paradise Canyon. We loaded up truck, gear and dog and battled San Antonio traffic to arrive at our destination just as the sun's rays disappeared behind oaks and cedars in a magenta-streaked sky. We rolled into the campground at 7:09 PM- south Austin time! The site is reserved only for cavers. The event pulls in a crowd of 3-400 people usually.
Upon arrival, we were welcomed by long-time friends who came from out-of-state, in-state and out-of-country for the reunion. For 33 years Texas Cavers have convened for food, fun and organizational meetings and awards to advance the study and preservation of caves in Texas. Some other factions represented here besides Texas groups, spear-headed by local leaders are the Association for Mexican Cave Studies and International Congress of Speleology.
With the excitement of this annual event gearing up on Friday night, most of us wander around the campground greeting friends and making new acquaintances throughout the evening as more people trickle in. I don't wander far from base camp anymore. I wear a plastic-molded leg brace that keeps me from falling on uneven ground. Nevertheless, I limit the amount I trudge around these days.

The campground experience is like an ancient gathering of nomads. Very few lights are visible in this campground after dark and I hear no blaring music tonight. Cavers don't mind navigating in the dark. It is amazing how much light the stars and ambient light can provide.
Some folks go to the river bank for a night swim, others stay in small camps near tents and vehicles and catch up on the lives of friends.
I think I climbed into my sleeping bag near midnight, still hearing lots of talk and laughing at camps around me.
I elected to sleep on the ground next to the river, to look at the stars and relish the cooler temperatures. I laid my ground tarp in the apex of a triangle, one side a trickle of a stream draining into the cove, the other side a still pool of water that had a gentle earthy fragrance of decomposing vegetation. I inhaled the night. I felt ground under my bones. My eyes scanned the heavens, twinkling stars replaced thoughts of blinking artificial digital billboards and teaming rush hour traffic headlights lighting the path to here earlier in the evening.
My patient partner piled into the camper in the back of the pickup truck.
Sure enough Orion stretched out over my head, visible through lacy cypress branches. I rearranged cushioning, covers and pillows. After star gazing flat on my back, I flipped from one side to the other. My dog retreated into her nearby dog crate, seeking a less busy place than alongside me.
I wasn't really expecting to sleep out there in the open.
My mind drifted to memories of adventures over the years in remote rural Mexico.
How my life had changed from penniless caver/archeologist to the staid state employee planning retirement.
I was sleeping on the ground to celebrate that I could still do it after hand surgery and a number of foot surgeries. It was important that I do some of the things that gave me pleasure when I was younger.
Gradually, out of the fog of a tired mind and body, I became aware of revving of motors and nearby vehicles speeding around. I hear a loud "Hey!". More motors. Silence.
First, I dismissed the commotion as late arrivals not adjusting their speed or headlights to the crowded campground.
I imagined perturbed campers were warning the vehicles to slow down and dim their lights.
The night air was cold and damp. I shift some more, scooting deeper down in my bag.
At first the sirens sounded far off in the distance. By the time I realized how close they were at the camp ground gate, the cover of night broke wide open with flashing lights throbbing -red, white, blue strobes emanating from the emergency vehicles. I didn't get up. I closed my eyes. We were only 30 minutes from downtown San Antonio. I thought the sirens part of an urban Friday night.
Make it go away. I don't want this reality piercing my dream world tonight.
I am feeling nature in the beauty of a river bank, under ancient cypress, listening to soft gurgling waters.
I am content in my place, in the middle of my community of friends.
I tried to make sense of what was happening from the safety of my cocoon. Wrapped in my mummy bag peering out, I called out to Ron in the pickup bed, "Are you awake? What is going on?"
He thought it was a fire truck. There was a burn ban, but campfires in pits were allowed. I wondered if there was a wild fire in the canyon.

The siren cut off, but the lights continued to flash. I don't know how much time elapsed. I asked Ron what time was it. He said 1:30 AM. I finally got up and went to the opened tailgate of the camper. Ron remained in his sleeping bag unconcerned with the presence of the now 3 emergency vehicles. Whatever was going on was far enough away to dismiss but close enough to intrude on our sleep.
"Someone must have had a heart attack" Ron posited, thinking of his many friends in their 60's and 70's that were here. In fact he was celebrating 40 years exploring caves in Carta Valley,Texas with friends. In my mind I think it likely some younger guys getting into trouble or being rowdy.
Our local campsite was quiet, no one aroused. I hear snoring from the popup camper on my right. I can't see through the trees or past the porta-potties to make out details of the emergency vehicles.
I have lapsed CPR and First Aid training. With my mobility impairment and recent broken arm, sadly I am more of a liability than asset to my community.
Something bad has happened. Someone is dealing with bad news tonight and I don't know what.
Realizing there wasn't much we could do, I returned to lie down under the stars again. Deep in the heart of Texas, the stars are big and bright.
Ron says first the ambulance left, then the fire truck and we heard other vehicles leave. I didn't sleep much. I opened my eyes and see Orion slip further down into the glassy dark waters of the Medina River. Lily pads floating on top silhouette in the night.
Time passes. I don't feel like I have slept. Near sunrise, I get up to visit the porta-can and meet a friend who had slept through the incident in the night and can contribute no new information.
Up at dawn, I started to walk around the campground close to the entrance gate, greeting friends who were up looking for coffee. I knew some friends had plans to kayak the river and were setting up a shuttle with trucks.

No one I encountered knew anything. Surprisingly several people had slept through the noise and light show. Tents and campers had muffled sounds and hidden the lights. I went and crawled back into the camper with Ron until Bill, one of my first caver friends from 33 yrs ago, came over with the news.
Our friend, Ed Alexander, had been taken to the hospital last night after he was retrieved unconscious from the river.
Despite the efforts of some friends who are first responders, the prognosis was not good.
I busied myself in morning rituals, shaking off the feeling of not having slept with coffee and breakfast. Close to noon when I am loading the pickup truck with sleeping bags and gear, I hear a mournful wail from a nearby campsite. With anguish striking my heart from recognizing the meaning of the shriek, I look out from behind our camper and see my friends' faces as they huddle together on the road.
As mother comforts children, we receive the news of his passing with sorrow, feeling helpless.
Paradise Canyon. One of the most beautiful stretches of land I know in Central Texas.
Hard to imagine hidden dangers in this idyllic setting.
Cavers are notoriously safety-conscious and like to scrutinize incidents to assess what went wrong.
The details around this tragedy may never be known, like so many un-witnessed accidents.
Ed, surrounded by his family and friends, was engaged in doing what he loved.
He was a true adventurer.
He made his home in Mexico and Austin.
He contributed to caving in Texas and Mexico over many years and leaves a legacy for generations to come.
I will miss his wicked sense of humor. I remember last year at this campsite, laughing along with him as we exchanged perspectives of the world. His observations were keen and commentary witty.
Others will share what his life meant to them. He had many so many friends and made his mark in Austin with his life's work.
He leaves a hole bigger than Sotano de las Golondrinas in our hearts.

He lived a rich, full life with many tales to tell.
He epitomized the old gringo character he played in "The Mexican".
Ed played the role of a gringo stuck in Mexico without a US passport to get back over the border to home, content to wait patiently in Mexico, until his fortune might change. His long gray beard in this movie implied that his world had been a land of "mananas" leaving him in limbo in a country that is hard to leave because of deep love for its people and places.

I remember Ed as a father to children that are personable and charming in their own right.

His light burned brightly and went out too soon. Like the meteor streaking through the night sky.
A life too quickly extinguished.
One-of-a-kind Texas caver, we will remember you.
I will remember you on crisp fall days and see you in the clear blue skies.
I will remember your stories when I hear leaves rustling in the breeze.
I will see your face in the central Texas river waters.
The mark Ed made on my life was not only the pleasure of his and his family's company that he shared with me.
He introduced me to many of the special places that mean so much to me.
From limestone caves to the unparalleled vistas of Real de Catorce, it was Ed's lead I followed. He went before, so we could come after him.
Tree of Life spans to the heavens and the underground below. Encompassing spaces far and wide.
River of Life spans the passage of time of eternity. Rebirth, Birth, Cycles of Life.
Photo by Blake and Dominique Harrison July 2009

Conscious Creativity

2009-10-06T17:30:00.000-07:00

What I like about this blog is that makes me think consciously about creativity.
So today I took pictures of mosaics I made nearly 10 years ago...never thought to take pictures.
Never had much of an audience for them.
Been thinking about mosaic-ing...it is an approach to my life...a piece here, a piece there...
When I made these, I said it reminded me of learning Spanish and sign language- it's a way of communication- with colors, a new language, using fingers.
My first mosaic I made in high school...that's a big thing. We even made the tile and glazed it.
I'll take a picture of it next.
This is my armadillo series...abstract and less so.

Mandala series above.

Roadrunner Stepping stone.
These were made from scrap pieces of tile from a secret source.

Lavender and pink Blooms-Texas Fall Aster, Wild Petunia and Pink Mimosa

2009-10-03T15:37:00.000-07:00

Aster oblongifolius-
Texas Fall aster- this is familiar name to me.

This is a tentative identification for me...newly named.
Low Ruellia?

Ruellia humilis - Acanthus family- wild petunia

(Pink Mimosa) Mimosa borealis Gray

This silly plant, like our Redbud that bloomed thinks it is Spring.

Normally blooms in April, this is an October bloom!

A great book is by Brother Daniel Lynch, C.S.C. who taught Biology at St. Edward's University.
Native & Naturalized Woody Plants of Austin and the Hill Country.
Published in 1981, it may still be available at the St. Edward's bookstore where I bought it.
I remember Brother Daniel. He was strident in his mission to keep Austin green with plants.
I remember the gayfeather or liatris he planted and nurtured at Blunn Creek Preserve.

He is largely responsible for Austin parking lots that have trees.
He lobbied City officials tirelessly to plant trees amidst the asphalt jungle. Thank you Brother Daniel.

Thinking about transportion...

2009-09-25T06:07:00.000-07:00

It is on my commute each day that topics for this blog pop into my head.
It bothers me that I do burn alot of foreign oil to get to work.
Other than that part, I think what I do is "right work".
Especially after I read Barbara Kingsolver's expose of the cost of calories based on transportation of goods that travel to stores "out-of-season".
Having joined my local CSA, I have ameliorated one pang of guilt today.
I grew up on a street, in a small town, in the 1950's when our milk was delivered to the milk box (an insulated aluminum box) on our front porch by a horse-drawn wagon from Houck's Dairy. My faded memory pictures a large draft horse clip-clopping down the street at a steady, slow pace. The driver of the wagon grabbed the milk bottles already line up in a wire basket and dashed to the front steps to place the bottles inside.
Sometimes, the driver hollered, "Whoa!" and the horse came to a halt.
At my house, if I was allowed to after my afternoon nap, I got to run to that gargantuan beast and say "Hello".
At five, that was when I fell in love with horses. This docile creature gently lipped carrots held up from my tiny, up-stretched hand. The sweat evaporating from his glistening chesnut coat delivered an aroma to fill my senses. I was just about eye-level to that great horse's chest.
Fascinated with his gentle eyes and enormous head, I stroked as much of his nose that I could reach.
His flaring nostrils, showied delicate pink surfaces that ebbed and flowed with each breath. Now I realize that he towed a heavy load of full milk bottles for a route extending beyond just our neighborhood.
I was no more than 5 yrs old at the time. This impression has remained with me and evoked amazment when recollecting it. Yes, it really did happen in my life time. The dairy farm L.J. Houck & Sons only exists in collective memory.
I just googled this (What did we do before the Internet?)

My Dad, Mike Mazur, was a Route Foreman for L.J. Houck & Sons dairy. He worked there for 30 yrs. and could speak six languages, which was a big help when he delivered milk in the different ethnic neighborhoods. Pete and Maude were two of the horses that pulled the Houck's wagons up and down our neighborhood streets.

A validation of my childhood memory.

Cool, refreshing air revives the landscape

2009-09-23T08:47:00.000-07:00

The naked ground has sprung alive with recent rains. Almost 8 inches in the backyard over the last 2 weeks! With the cooler temps, the ground isn't baking and the moisture is actually benefiting the plants.
Tiny green dots pepper the earth...it's chickweed! Now, I think that is awesome.
One of the things that grows in spite of it all. It is good in salads AND -go figure- the chickens love it.

The violet wood sorrel leaves or oxalis is also a winner in salads...with a cautionary note: everything in moderation. Oxalic acid is not good for your kidneys in excess.... probably not as bad as some pharmaceuticals, though.

Even the kidneywood sprouted its fragrant blooms last week!

Fickle?

2009-09-23T06:04:00.000-07:00

Or "love the one you're with?"
Sorry, this is not about my sex life. I fall in love with the book de jour.
If I like a book, I don't put it down. I devour it with the passion of a 19 yr old living away from home for the first time in the tropical climates with the scent of gardenia on the air....Wait! that's another story.

If I don't like a book...well, if I put it down, it is apt to get lost in the clutter of magazines, notebooks, what-have-you scattered around the floor in my study or in piles on the end tables and coffee table in the other living areas.
Case-in-point, I had decided to return to a rejected lover for the SCN Memoir Challenge, the memoir entitled "Measure of my days" by Florida Scott-Maxwell. I started it, and as I recall, I liked its pithy reflections on aging. However, it smacked of what I think of as my old notion that memoirs= biographies of famous people. Admittedly, I had never heard of Florida before starting this book, but I held it against her anyway.
My notion of memoir today are tales of women, in particular, who share reflections on ordinary and extraordinary journeys with language I understand.

I really did intend to read it on my vacation to the mountains.
After all, it is a thin, short paperback.
It is not at all like the beautiful large, hardcover Kingsolver book, I am lugging about in my secret affair.
Oh, that volume is glorious! Its pages are soft and raggedy,cut with jagged edges like old-fashioned, hand-bound books.
Sigh. It is a sensual experience to lift up the corner of each page and run my index finger underneath the cream-colored, gently-textured sheet. I imagine the fibers being pressed together to create this tome, this pleasurable object of my affections.

I am reasonably certain the small paperback is still sitting on the end table next to my reading chair at the cabin. At least I am not willing to excavate the piles of things that it could be hiding under at my house.
So, I have decided to replace The measure of my days with this new love, Animal,vegetable, Miracle on my reading list for the Memoir Challenge.
I guess it is memoir. Non- fiction for certain. It is a lovely blend of humor, vulnerability (no preaching here)as she describes her human foibles at severing her ties with the military, industrial, agri complex side of life we all share.
We all eat, so that common thread should resonate with many.
I think this book can do so much more than all of the political/economic summits and Global Warming initiatives.
It embodies the notion of "Think Globally. Act Locally."
Not easy to do. But each of us can think about her message today.
Unlike Scarlett O'Hara...
We can, each of us, act on this tomorrow.
The message is not trite. If you want to reduce the US dependence on oil, then think about where your food comes from and look for locally produced food.
Driving a Prius is just not enough!

Precious rain, precious water

2009-09-22T10:04:00.000-07:00

Rain pounding on the metal roof woke me up this morning. Early. Very early.
Long time coming.
Timing is perfect as I started to read Barbara Kingsolver's book today, Animal,Vegetable, Miracle. I love it all ready just 6 pages into the book.
We share the consternation about the burgeoning growth of the "Sunbelt", with the cities like Austin and Tucson (Austin more now than even Tucson, I believe)gaining more residents. People flood the areas, while actual rains have failed to resupply our precious groundwater.
Kingsolver's depiction of the Spanish beginning a water deficit by planting such things as orange trees in the desert is a clever way of bringing home the seriousness of the ecological disaster of agricultural practices of the Southwest. Likened to a financial debt, we are stacking up irreversible damage by borrowing water today to mortgage our children's future.

We are witnessing the reverse Dust Bowl, aren't we? Residents are fleeing the Golden State to find Pastures of Plenty back east or down south. People are bailing out due the inability to sustain irrigation agriculture in San Joaquin valley.

Water. Its all about water. Remember the Milagro Beanfield War?
I hope our story will have a happy ending.
I know I will enjoy the humor and awareness of my new favorite book.
It's not a trivial difference:praying for or against rainfall in a drought.
You can argue that wishes don't count,but humans are good at making our dreams manifest and we do, historically speaking, get what we wish for.

Gratitude Day

2009-09-21T06:00:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning counting my blessings. Unusual for me. On a Monday.
I was recognizing the smallest of gifts in my life.
I get up at 5:30 AM to sneak into the capitol city where I work. Since I live a good 30 miles from my office, I steel myself with good coffee. These thoughts danced in my head this morning. Maybe it was the weather (last day of summer) or maybe it was the words from Together, Alone still rang true in my head...how quiet solitude (Sacred Silence in the Lipan Apache tradition) can bring relief from the "gnats" flying around our head.

I am grateful for Ruta Maya coffee.
I am grateful for my home and dogs.
I am grateful the chickens went in the coop to roost.
I am blessed to be loved by a good man.

Yes, I noticed I put my beloved last on the list.
But that is really a good thing- he allows me to attend to my business and doesn't mind his place on the list.
He knows about the transcendence of such relationships like we have. Like the alpha and omega of it all.
We have, after all, grown old together, as I tease him.
And oh, yes, I am grateful I can use my left hand to open cans, grind fresh pepper and all the things primates are supposed to be able to do with opposable thumbs.
My young white shepherd dog could tell my mood was different this morning. Instead of sitting and staring at me safely from the doorway while I bustled around the kitchen, she approached me with her head down, ears back, tail wagging- expecting a happy greeting from me this morning. In a June Cleaver moment, I met Ron when he came downstairs, with his steaming Earl Grey tea and a kiss.
The cooler, but still summer air, greeted me when I stepped off the porch to begin my commute. In the dark, I recognize each silhouetted live oak branch hanging over the driveway. In the country, with no lights, you would be amazed at how well you can see "in the dark!"
I heard the litany of celebrations for the day from the radio:
"Get of town day, Drive the speed limit day and..... Gratitude Day!"

That explains it (wink)- right?
I think that (to weakly paraphrase)it is more like Merton puts forth- the contemplative life is the only life worthwhile. I read Merton in my teenage years. My mother left a copy of Zen and the birds of appetite (1968) by Thomas Merton on the back of the toilet for bathroom reading. In retrospect, that seems a little strange to me.
Whether this was some sort of strategy of my mother's to influence me, or simply this is where she found the time and privacy to read the book, reading that book shaped me and guided me when my mother's words faded in a fog, getting lost in my adolescent angst.
Reading is my meditation and I felt rejuvenated by my weekend reading. My Gemini nature loves language, words, concepts, thoughts, thinking, questioning.
I reflect on the miracle of water as I swim.
Imagine how luxurious simple hydrogen and oxygen feels when combined and experienced on a 90 degree summer day. Add a little salt to the mix and 'every thing's gonna be all right.'
My body melds into this chemical combination and I become fluid, placid, ever- changing, reflecting light in dancing sparkles, mirroring the cerulean hues of the sky.

Before I went to bed, I indulged myself in yet one more book, Plant-Driven Design: Creating Gardens That Honor Plants, Place, and Spirit by Scott Ogden and Lauren Springer Ogden. This is more of a coffee table book, but I immersed myself in the beautiful color photos of gardens around the world.
The plant lists are confusing and a bit frustrating as I know not all will grow in my backyard. I did read her rationale for dealing with the book this way, that certainly micro-zones can be created in nooks and crannies of gardens, regardless of the "zone" deemed suitable by government experts. Since the Ogdens have a garden in Austin, I can at least get clues from what they are successfully growing.
I have always had a "let's see how these plants do..." attitude.
I mentioned in my last post the recurring disappointment after planting dogwoods, forsythia, lantana and hibiscus. Most all my succulent collection is long gone after nurturing them for 15 yrs, I gave up. I have often put plants in the ground, and if I stumble across them still alive, I am grateful. I wonder what happened to the Bois d'arc I planted? Did I plant that Escarpment Black Cherry (Rosaceae Prunus serotina)over there? Hmmm- maybe I could keep a journal on what I plant and where...

In 2001 I brought home 4 white oak acorns from the Pine Barrens of New Jersey, planted them around them meadow, each in one of the cardinal directions with a prayer in my heart and forgot about them.
In 2004, I discovered the short saplings with awe. In 2009, they dried up with the worst drought I could ever imagine. Perhaps they will sprout some new shoots if we have the El Nino winter we are due.

I like the theme of the book- to consider the spirit of the plant and to allow that to guide the design of gardens and landscapes.
Indeed, the agaves I spirited away from my old neighborhood near 38 1/2 St. 30 yrs ago thrive in my "yard" now. (5 acres is a big yard)
I have sold agave pups for charity and given away as many as I can. I am fairly certain, mine are healthy and nematode free.
I am reminded of a theme of the last few chapters of Together Alone that highlight a spiritual side to life... how our inward view projects on our outward manifestations.
Do you supposed that with this new, softer, giving-thanks me could revive some of my plantings with effervescent color rather than the spiny cactus that are well established in my landscape?
I suspect so.
My mantra has been since I learned to live closer to earth,

"Prosperity is relating, not acquiring."

This quote I read in a Tom Brown Jr book attributed to Grandfather a wise, knowing Lipan Apache.
I reflect that while I was sitting in the bathroom, alone with Merton, Tom Brown Jr was wandering the woods of the New Jersey Pine Barrens with Grandfather.
Tom,a man about my age, in the 1960's, learned to name the plants in his backyard. He learned the skills required to be a good steward of natural places. His journals from that time are the basis for books and lessons to children of the earth. He still works tirelessly to protect the Medicine Waters and other special places that are home to the delicate pitcher plant, thorny blueberries and countless healing herbs.
I shall now be reminded to share that philosophy of prosperity with the new plants I shelter and give home to this fall.

Quote for the day

2009-09-18T06:27:00.000-07:00

"Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction." Antoine de Saint-Exupery
---
So that is what is the cornerstone of our successful relationship?
I like this measure! I know this is a wonderfully figuratively speaking quote, but I choose to interpret it literally.

My longtime partner and I find that our calmest moments together,the times when we communicate best, are the times in silence, that we gaze together out from the porch on the landscape that our hands and hearts have crafted together over the years. The Leucanthus blooms, circled by a ring of honeycomb limestone, were added last year after a visit from a high school friend.
Rosemary is an avid gardener in New England. I figured if she spends so much time and energy in that climate, eeking out an existence for her cactus garden and traditional English-type garden, that I should replant some of the beds that had become empty over the last several summers. We live in the sunbelt! A little water and soil amendments and it hard to go wrong. Though the list of my failed attempts at diversifying the plant population is long: lantana, Coral wreath, figvine, dogwood, lavender, crepe myrtle...my partner has success as he takes the time to check on them, water them and nurture them. My harsh attitude is- if you can survive here, "welcome, little plant!".
The landscape is tidy, rocks raked, paths cleared because of Ron. His taste tends toward formal and orderly-designed scenery. My artist's eye likes informal balance and I tend to favor a cluttered backdrop. A rusty cowbell found far afield on a caving excursion way out in the country, hangs from the gnarled live oak limb by the garden gate. At the edge of the very straight row of shrubs alongside of the porch is an angular piece of deeply colored gray basalt brought back from the panhandle of New Mexico.
Sticking out of the the raised bed where the antique roses once grew (before this summer)are hunks of fossilized wood with crystals growing and sparkling in its folds.
Everywhere- dotting the panorama from the porch, I have placed momentos from days past when I could stick a rock in my backpack and carry it out. (No National Monuments or Parks where harmed in this practice)Then I moved those darn things from house to house before I decided 24 years ago never to move again.
Having different points-of-view, especially when the view is shared together from the back porch, has led us to disagreements and compromises over the years.
I have seen frustration well-up in my partner's face, exasperated when I wanted to plant 8 new plants in two clumps of 3 and 5 plants, as opposed to lining them all up in a row on the edge of the buffalo grass.
I shrieked in disbelief when I returned home one day to see the bluebonnet meadow that was drying up and slowing turning to seed had been mowed down. What looked like weeds to him represented 15 years of husbandry to me. The field had weathered droughts and pestilence but had steadily increased its blooms each spring and summer as bluebonnets, gaillardia,coreopsis, verbena and Monarcha horsemint renewed themselves.
But once we are together side-by-side gazing outward together, there is peace. There is a tacit understanding that will never be vocalized. Our communication often goes awry when it involves speaking, listening and processing deeply.
Ron takes my words very literally. Sometimes, when he repeats back what I have just said and he interprets the meaning literally, and gives his response based on that, I giggle, then howl and begin to laugh out loud hysterically. He is right. The phrase I used might be commonly recognized as an expression, but in his eyes, I understand it sounds ridiculous.
I used to think his sense of humor was "corny". I realize now, he sees words in their literal sense and I can share the joke with him. I am beginning to be able to join him in his solitary gaze outward.

Slides

2008-01-30T06:07:00.001-08:00

Here is my presentation from the 2008 Stories from the Heart IV conference.
Please join us in 2010 for Stories from the Heart V in Austin, Texas- a memoir conference for women with stories to tell!
http://www.storycircle.org/Conference/

May 16, 2008

2008-01-01T14:24:00.001-08:00

Celebrate Storytelling around the world!
International Day for Sharing Life Stories, on May 16th 2008.
Please visit...

internationaldayblog.storycenter.org

San Antonio teachers telling their stories.

2008-01-01T14:19:00.000-08:00

Miguel Guhlin was in my workshop in March in Austin.
He is doing wonderful things with K-12 students and teachers in San Antonio area.
These were made in the workshop:

Family Time - Christina Morrow (2.2 megs)
Garbed in Silver - Miguel Guhlin (21.5 megs)
Alaska - Larry Stegall (13.7 megs)
My Island - Greg Rodriguez (15.4 megs)

Back at it agin

2008-01-01T14:06:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! Poor neglected blog!
Here it is winter already.
Need to link to the finished Summer Institute projects.

Now I am gearing up to teach digital storytelling again...first to teachers- then to writers at conference: Stories from the Heart IV.

Wild Blue Yonder

2007-07-06T08:54:00.000-07:00

Finished in time for July 4th, here is a story about my father's service in WW2.

Summer storytelling

2007-06-18T08:00:00.000-07:00

It's almost time for the big event!
http://irt.austincc.edu/ids/SumInstitute/si07/

I made this story to introduce the logo for the T-shirt...and the workshop.
http://irtstaff.austincc.edu/mmeacham/videos/conchshell.ram
RealPlayer is needed to stream it to your computer.

Just what is the essential nature of digital storytelling?

2007-04-19T06:02:00.000-07:00

I love it when I get to discuss this type of question!
Digital storytelling is many things to many people.
Is it about social change, or empowering the marginalized, or giving voice to the voiceless?

The approach I am taking for teaching and learning is the one that Joe Lambert has expressed in his interview here:

http://www.edsupport.cc/mguhlin/archives/2007/02/entry_2885.htm

The old public speaking method is to tell a personal anecdote to engage the audience in listening to your topic to glean understanding from your personal narrative and connect it to the topic.

In other words, the story provides a framework for what is to follow.
Teachers call it anticipatory set or even an advanced organizer.
Unfortunately these tools often are nothing more than an outline (ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz).

Crafting a digital story to fit a lecture, for example, can help learners exercise thinking to build connections or metaphors or understand what your point -of -view is.

Digital storytelling (DS) can put the interest back into a lecture, if lecturing is where the comfort zone of faculty is (or the only option at large institutions).

Pedagogically it is about the scaffolding nature of learning; building on personal experience to bridge to new knowledge and skills.

If you can activate the background knowledge of your students and draw them into the new knowledge you want to present, you have "bridged" a gap in knowledge.
By grounding a topic with "realworld" experiences, it is easier to introduce abstractions and teach theories.

In a way, a good DS "respects" your audience- you assume they are capable of making connections and drawing conclusions...of course, as the author, you need to be sure you have crafted a piece that clearly communicates the intended message.

Even an audience of freshmen gets it whether a lecturer is interested in "espousing" and "telling" -uh-er- "lecturing" or creatively presenting a stimulating learning experience.

Crafting a story to illustrate a point lets your audience listen and "think deeply", as the Center for Digital Storytelling people would say.

DS is a teaching tool aimed at changing the way we look at presenting information to learners.

For 15 long years I have been trying to impart the 'new paradigm' of learning- constructivism- alternatives to lecture...alternatives to death by PowerPoint (PPT)....

I offend many, I am certain, when I suggest bringing a systematic approach to learning....that respects the listener and asks him or her to draw her own conclusions and make his or her own sense out of information.

I love that Joe Lambert calls Digital Storytelling- "PPT on steroids"....

It is not about the mechanism for delivering the information (PowerPoint or video) as much as it is about engaging the listener with a good story with a point-of-view that is not blatant "lecturing".

Most importantly DS CAN bring back "interest", motivation, warm and fuzzy "engagement" of the learner....

.....rather than the faculty thinking of students as empty vessels to be filled with knowledge, Digital Storytelling can engage the student in a creative, fun way of thinking with higher order cognition!

Lisa's personal framework in the Oveta Culp Hobby story gets a listener to thinking....."Yeah, maybe I can be a "Tall Texan", too!" Her point-of-view that is shared with the audience invites the listener to be bolstered by Oveta's story, too."

The emotional "open- wound" stories that we tend to make at first, also show students vulnerabilities of faculty and maybe can foster a more human connection in vast lecture halls.
Could DS bring back civility to campuses of higher learning?
Can DS help students see faculty as living, breathing, feeling humans?

Many faculty converse with students in "brochure" language (distant 3rd person authority) which really turns off studentslisteners.
Who wants lectures that sound like marketing ad campaigns?

Speaking from 1st person experience can transform the cultural climate of higher education... which we really need.

Large classes foster impersonal relationships----
Personal DS can help create communities of learners, even when large.

A story from the March Digital Story workshop in Austin

2007-04-18T09:50:00.000-07:00

The links are old and have been removed so here is updated link to the Center for Digital Storytelling.
http://www.storycenter.org/stories/index.php?cat=3

Sense of Place

2007-04-12T11:09:00.000-07:00

One of the prompts for my writing has been the sentiment generated from sense of place.
The Ukiah Project has caught my attention:
http://www.storymapping.org/projects.html

You will find some great examples of stories plus photos at the above link.

Speaking of writing about places...
A Land Full of Stories: A Conference & Celebration of Writing about Place and Personal History
>>June 7-9, 2007
Alkek Library, Southwestern Writers Collection
Texas State University, San Marcos, Texas

Looking forward to this event in June in San Marcos.
See the cave photo of my neighbor, Ernie Garza.
Joy Kennedy's piece about caving and our friends is published in the anthology.

Digital Storytelling- the CDS Model

2007-03-30T11:13:00.000-07:00

The Center for Digital Storytelling in Berkeley is helping to build communities through multimedia storytelling...

Stories that

connect you with your audience
pass on heritage and memories of family roots to future generations
heal emotional wounds
give voice to disenfranchised

The CDS model is effective in its brevity and clarity.
Stories can transform the teller and the listener.
It is a teaching tool that can provide metaphor for lessons and lectures.
The example below is my first attempt to convey my message in 2 mins with multimedia.

The story below I might use this in an anthropology or history as an advanced organizer.
Questions to ask before viewing:
What can you tell about the culture of the 1950's from watching this?
How is the music, food or lifestyle the same or different from your experiences growing up?
Do you have a family member who served in World War II?
What have you heard, seen or what do you already know about the 1950's?

This was made after workshop on CDS process: