Going insightseeing!

“People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the sea, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.”
— St. Augustine


The key to pilgrimage is to embark on the trip with a heightened intention. We are not just tourists. We're going to honor someone or something. By honoring what is sacred to us, we make it more real in our lives.
Inevitably, we return from pilgrimage, and this is an essential part of the meaning as well. We're supposed to return to our normal lives, except that we return transformed, carrying the experience with us forever, having touched the reality of what we love. . .
- Deng Ming-Dao, from The Lunar Tao

Traveling to Sedona last May with friends was a pilgrimage. It was an affirmation of ourselves as a priority, for without self nurturing, we have nothing left to give others. We challenged our concept of physical limitation. We explored who we were in life, not just where we were geographically. We journeyed with open minds and, more importantly, open hearts. We accepted each other, flawed and brilliant, uncertain and radiant. We strengthened our connection to Spirit with personal mysticism and the power of Mother Nature. Our bodies were grounded while our minds soared. We came away touched by the peace of self acceptance and celebration of our potential. We relaxed into the beauty of transition without fear for we are resilient!

Transformation has become my new normal. It's time to plan another trip!

The grace of slowing down

On vacation in Tennessee, I am visiting family and bonding with my infant grandson, Liam. No sightseeing, just easy, quiet days. It is such a change from my usual routine of busyness. Even on vacation, most people schedule a lot of activities to see it all or do it all. This trip is just about being present. Not having to accomplish anything, just flowing with baby nap time and reveling in the bliss of wake up smiles. Seeing the world with his curious eyes, enjoying his response to beautiful music, finding my voice once again in lullabies, opening my heart and breathing tenderness. He is content with simplicity, a full belly, warm arms to cradle him, safe and secure. I think of mothers around the world who long to give their infants a full belly each day and the hope of future that my grandson is assured. I am so grateful for the gift of this child and feel even more committed to helping other mothers around the world.

Enjoying southern treats too. Deep fried dill pickles! How had I ever missed this dish on previous visits? Crisp golden coins, dipped in a mild, sweet creamy sauce create an explosion of flavor, salty, tangy, sweet. Irresistible! I had to keep chanting "portion control, portion control...." On Sunday morning, we loaded up the smoker with pork ribs and chicken. The fragrance combined with that of freshly cut grass was a feast for the senses. My mouth has been watering today from savory chicken and veggies simmering in the slow cooker. Chicken and dumplings for dinner tonight.

To break even on the calories, Liam and I stroll around the neighborhood. Fat robins are everywhere. Chartreuse leaves are deepening green as the week goes by. Dogwood trees are blooming white against the sky in vivid contrast.

Slowing down, noticing how much I have to be grateful for, hour by hour, it feels like I am living my prayers.

What would you like to be?

If you ask a young child " what would you like to be?", you may hear a princess, a fireman, a doctor or a train engineer. Ask an adult, you may quickly hear "thinner" ( of course!), "richer" ( that goes without saying for most of us), or "healthier" ( right there with you). Right now, I would like to be more tech savvy.

There was a time when I felt cutting edge back in the early eighties. I free-lanced helping small businesses set up their offices to use PCs. Then I helped set up our local elementary schools first computer lab. We taught the teachers, then kids in kindergarten through grade five. The school had invested in over ninety educational programs that made learning fun. The teachers were intimidated. The kids took to it like ducks to water. I started a new career in interior design, and suddenly became behind the times in the tech world. Technology developed at warp speed while I was helping with homework, baking brownies and caught up in running two businesses from home. Times have certainly changed and a whole new world has opened up.

Now if you purchase an I Pad, it doesn't even come with a book to turn it on! There is a tutorial program on it if you can figure out how to turn it on to find it. They assume you know, duh! Kids know. They have no fear in picking up a new electronic device and pushing buttons to see what happens. I have seen parents hand their smart phones to three year olds to play games. To kids, the Cloud has nothing to do with weather or seating in heaven and tablets do not come in bottles. They learn the alphabet as A is for app, B is for Bing.....

Brand names have now become verbs. For instance, "just photoshop it." Aha, that is how to look thinner and painlessly younger! If that is a priority, DO NOT EVER USE SKYPE OR FACETIME! The wrinkles show up in high definition unless you sit eight feet away. Aging is not graceful on SKYPE. Back in the 60's, there was a cartoon called The Jetsons that featured all these futuristic cool things like SKYPE. Our future has arrived. We are connected world wide right in our own home. We are a global community.

These days I wonder how I ever managed without my I pad. But, I know I only use a fraction of its capabilities. The local Apple store has classes but offers them randomly and you have to register online even though you are standing in the store at that moment. I finally downloaded an I Book tutorial for I Pad that explains a lot. Good thing I did because my mother has recently purchased an I pad and has threatened to throw the thing in the pool. She accidentally touches the screen and the page changes. Each week she learns something new and now enjoys watching video clips of her great grandson two thousand miles away. Progress!

Besides having world wide research capabilities, I love the GPS app. You are here. Comforting words when you are lost. I also love the I books and Kindle app. Now I can buy new books in the middle of the night ( insomnia comes with age too) and read for hours with no eyestrain. Since joining the bifocal generation, adjusting the font size is liberating. Sure beats using a magnifying glass.

Yes, I want to be tech savvy. Next on the agenda is web design and customizing my blog. I may just hire a tutor from the local high school.

Not for sushi

Wabi sabi is the Japanese philosophy and art of appreciation for the beauty of the flawed or imperfect. A gentle thought of acceptance, yet it is a powerful concept.

In decor it has become popular as people clamor for reclaimed wood from old barns. Think vintage garden gate, or a hodge podge of cut sunflowers in an old watering can on the porch step. There is beauty in an uneven flagstone path, moss cushions peaking through here and there. Farmhouse tables wear history, the patina of time softening edges. Ivy meanders up a brick wall unplanned. The uneven glaze of a handcrafted bowl, a tribute to the artisan's effort. A vintage clock no longer keeps time but keeps the memories alive of hours well spent. There may be a chip in the teapot but it does not affect pouring a fragrant cup.

Wabi sabi is the candid snap shot of child missing his front teeth rather than a formal portrait. It is found in the prettiness of a young girl with a spattering of freckles across her porcelain nose. A smile full of crooked teeth still warms the heart. A kindergarten doodle framed by a budding Jackson Pollock adds flair to the kitchen wall.


Wabi sabi bespeaks acceptance of change as a natural process. That means there is beauty and grace in aging. Eyes crinkled from years of laughter, frown lines of loving concern are to be revered not reviled. Peaches and pickles should be well preserved not people. Wrinkle cream is wonderful but the pursuit of the appearance of eternal youth is unrealistic. Beauty radiates from within. It shines with creative spirit, a compassionate heart and a mind full of wisdom. Wabi sabi means accepting others as more precious than their flaws. It also means accepting oneself with the same loving eyes.

A pearl begins with an irritating imperfection. Covered with years of grace, becomes a thing of rare beauty.

Comes with instructions

Visiting my family out of state this week, I have entered a whole new world of Babies R Us. My grandson is twelve weeks old. The days of baby cradle, crib and carriage are long gone. It takes a screwdriver and and a degree in computer science to figure out the contemporary accoutrements vital to the care of infants.
A space age sterilizer, a mattress alarm, a collapsible jogging stroller with built in speakers for an IPod, a carseat designed by engineers for engineer parents, an electric diaper wipe warmer, and Pandora radio streaming lullabies on a Bluetooth Jambox all requiring instructions ( not to mention a password). Grandparents need a tutorial to understand what a Moby, Boppy and Bumbo do. By the time I figure out the origami gymnastics to tie the Moby, the baby will be asking for the keys to my car. I can feel my IQ dropping from toddler music lyrics and my self esteem dropping from not being able to figure out the safety buckles to the car seat. Take a sixteen pound infant, put him in a twenty pound carseat and tote that up a flight of stairs for a baby Bootcamp workout. So glad I brought the big bottle of Motrin for my knees.

Despite the electronics, Liam still loves to be cuddled and rocked the old fashioned way. Sitting with him on the porch this sunny spring day, he was intrigued by the play of light and breeze on young tree leaves. His bright eyes tracked the flight of a butterfly close by. When his mommy arrived home, the sound of her voice brought the first of many smiles. Thankfully, no instructions are necessary to shower this baby with love.

Food for thought

In America, there are commonly accepted rules, regulations and laws to own and operate a motor vehicle. You must be of responsible age, and qualify for a driver's license. You must take a written test of the law and rules of the road and prove your skills behind the wheel before a license is granted. You must also have your eyes examined. Application for the license requires proof of age, identity and legal address and stating your gender. Signing the application implies your agreement to operate within the law and renew your license at the required time. Driving without your license in your possession has penalties. You are also required to carry proof of insurance should you cause harm to someone else or damage to their property. To own a vehicle, you must pay tax and registration fees each year and prove the vehicle is safe to operate and non polluting. You must have your vehicle license plate or tag in full view of other drivers and law enforcement. Everyone agrees to abide by the traffic rules of the road or is penalized for not doing so. Everyone agrees that this is for the greater good. No one argues that their constitutional rights are being violated regarding their pursuit of happiness.

Yet, when it comes to gun control for the greater good of all, so many people are up in arms. A liquor license is more difficult to obtain than a gun license. So is a massage therapy license. After all, you might rub someone the wrong way. You need special licensing to sell hot dogs on the corner. You might kill someone with an improperly cooked frankfurter. In most neighborhoods you aren't allowed to have hives and keep bees. Someone might get stung and have an allergic reaction. But you can stockpile ammunition and keep as many guns as you want.

For the record, I am not against guns. We have one in our own home after years of service as a police officer. Several members of my family own guns. The largest collector has a special safe and is a competitive shooter and champion marksman.. Several friends are hunters and I have enjoyed pheasant and roast duck as a benefit. It does strike fear in my heart however, to think of the assault rifles prevalent in cities just across the bridge from us. Every week we hear of innocent children caught in crossfire. Yes, there will always be illegal weapons on the market. But do we have to make it easier to stockpile them legally? A waiting period and background check doesn't seem so unreasonable for the greater good. Limits on magazines and assault rifles will give police a fighting change to serve and protect the innocent. And maybe even requiring an eye test to prove gun owners can see clearly who they are shooting at. After all, it is for the greater good.

Up to our necks in hot water...

Keeping a plan made weeks ago, a friend and I met at a hidden jewel of a Japanese style garden for a hot tub soak.. After a week of life, death and taxes in America, it seemed so self indulgent. We sat together for an hour in a small enclosure shaded by an arbor and adorned with several orchids. The jasmine blooming on the other side of the fence was fragrant in the warmth. We quietly shared cares and concerns as tension and muscular knots melted away. Stress lowered as steam rose.

In the glaring news reports of lives forever changed by bombs in Boston and a factory explosion in Texas, our personal struggles take on new perspective.
I have to step back from the constant stream of details and heartache. Weeping all day doesn't serve the victims or those searching out the perpetrators of such evil.
Certainly a prayer is worthy but especially choosing to live each hour more mindfully.

Some thoughts are worth considering as we deal with our problems this week.
Is this a problem I can fix or should I walk away from?
Will I even remember this argument or situation in five years?
Do I want to be right or do I want to be happy?
Are these the last words I would want someone to hear from me?

So much pales in comparison to a child not finishing her homework suddenly losing a leg. A poor grade in math doesn't matter when the concern is will she walk, run or be able to dance. A man who can't be bothered to pick up his socks will never be coming home from work again.
Every day is a gift, an experience not to be missed by constant distractions. The natural inclination is to focus on what needs to be done rather that what is complete.

In the book ONE THOUSAND GIFTS, author Ann Voskamp reveals her personal struggle to reconcile the death of a child, man's inhumanity, maintaining faith in God, with living up to her name which means "full of grace". As a wife of a farmer and mother to a brood of children with a never ending to do list, Ann begins another list of one thousand gifts to be grateful for. She empties herself to live a full life rich in communion with people, nature and divinity. Some paragraphs are pure poetry.

When I begin spinning with stress over my COBRA running out in a few months, starting over in a new career, one more doctor visit for a partner facing surgery, I bring myself back to center by focusing on " in this moment......." Take a deep breath. In this moment I sit with a hot cup of coffee. Sip and savor. In this moment my children are well. In this moment I have everything essential to life. In this moment I can make a very long list of things to be grateful for.
In this moment, I am glad that I can get up to my neck in hot water, literally.

Shine the light on comfort, caring and courage!

Any day, anyone of us may be called to be a first responder to a tragic event. Our complacency shattered, the first few seconds cause stunned disbelief. Yesterday, our nation witnessed the extreme contrast from violent disregard of innocent human life to strangers reacting immediately to care for the injured without regard to personal safety. In the moments from celebration to chaos, strangers became united as family. Instant reaction saved lives as makeshift tourniquets were applied. No doubt the death toll would be so much higher without the quick action of everyone present. What a blessing to have so many well staffed hospitals close by.
After completing 26 miles in the Marathon, many runners ran straight to hospitals to donate blood.

The world is watching as we stand strong, united in compassion, competence and courage in the pursuit life, liberty and justice for all.

Game changers!

Margaret Mead once said, ‘Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world . . . it is the only thing that ever has.’ And I would add, ‘especially a group of women.’ Women are a powerful lot. We are the creators of change. And when we get to work, we make great things happen.

This past week I have met some incredible game changers. While attending a fundraiser, a dazzling woman danced up to me and my companion all a swirl in aqua and orchid. She introduced herself as the ambassador of fun, Mary Lynn. She may be retired as a school teacher, but there was nothing retiring about her at all. An active member and advocate of the local Rotary Club, she attends three meetings a week. Delightfully inquisitive, she wanted to know all about us. Then she invited us to lunch as her guest at the next Rotarian meeting. Rotary is the largest global organization of business, professional and community leaders devoted to the concept of service above self through involvement in community, vocational and international projects. Their main goal is to eradicate polio worldwide. They make friends and have fun while serving others! Mary Lynn is a game changer! I will definitely be contacting my local Rotary because of her enthusiastic introduction to this organization.

By 1951 the world was in the midst of the biggest polio epidemic in history. Personally, I know two people who survived the disease. My partner's sister, Joan contracted polio as a child and so did a tennis partner of mine, Al who has since passed on. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was paralyzed by polio. I remember my mother taking me as a child to a school where hundreds of people were lined up to receive the vaccine on a sugar cube. Coincidentally, I am reading THE IMMORTAL LIFE OF HENRIETTA LACKS by Rebecca Skloot. A New York Times bestseller, the narrative and history is so well written that it reads like a novel. The story is personally engaging because each of us has directly benefited by the contribution that Henrietta Lacks made to medicine unwittingly. While being treated for cervical cancer at Johns Hopkins, this young mother and tobacco farmer had some of the cells from her tumor harvested and donated to a medical researcher without her knowledge. The cancer took her young life despite radium treatments. But, her cells were the first to replicate in test tubes by the millions. This became one of the most important tools in medicine, vital for developing the polio vaccine, cloning gene mapping and more. A medical revolution was launched yet her family cannot afford health insurance. They did not know that their mothers cells were still alive and producing until twenty years later. Part exposé of the prevalent racism in medical treatment and research at that time, it is also a warmly crafted story brought to light. Henrietta Lacks was a game changer and so is the author, Rebecca Skloot in my book.

The fundraiser I attended was for BOLDLY ME. This fantastic nonprofit was started a year ago to help people transcend the emotional trauma caused by physical and other differences due to birth conditions, medical treatments, injury and disease. They help build self esteem through counseling programs, training and recreational centers that help people love themselves and live fearlessly despite being BOLDLY BALD, BOLDLY BIG, BOLDLY BURNED, BOLDLY BROKEN or BOLDLY BORN.
The founder, Alanna Powell has left a successful career in the high tech industry to dedicate her efforts in helping people heal, cope and transcend their differences. She has alopecia universalis and is boldly bald. Alanna is a game changer! I was thrilled to meet her and her example spurs me on in my new career working with others who have alopecia.

Isn't it all about who you know rather that what you know these days? Word of mouth is still a powerful resource for connecting people and getting things done. We spread the word when there is a sale, a new store opening, or a social event of the season. I decided to spread the word about a new organization Wisdom 2.0 that I read about online at Meetup.com. So I sent the link and invited a few other women that I know want to live as game changers too!

Wisdom 2.0 Women is created to support and inspire women to tap into and live from their own internal wisdom. It is created and inspired from Wisdom 2.0 which asks: How do we live with greater mindfulness, presence and compassion in the digital age? Are you excited about having more wise, compassionate and feminine leadership in the world? Do you desire connection with others who are on the same journey of inspired leadership and embodied wisdom? This gathering is created to support and inspire women to tap into and live from their own internal wisdom. The evening will include speakers, mindfulness practices and group exercises for participants to connect authentically. Come to share, learn and be part of a community interested in the growth of wisdom and feminine leadership in the world.
I am excited about attending this inaugural event on April 30th in San Francisco and so far three other women have decided to join me.
Creating change is the name of the game!

Before the morning muse eludes me

Rushing around in my very early morning routine, cleaning up breakfast, cooking ground turkey and beef for the dogs ( yes, I am really confessing to that), answering email, stripping a bed of sheets and throwing in a load of wash, I tell myself go sit down and write before the morning muse eludes me. These activities create such distraction that I find myself constantly responding to people and circumstance. The day kicks into high gear and I become a human doing instead of a human being.

Carving out quiet time for most people these days requires scheduling. Many people I know have a meditation practice. Quiet the mind, relax, breathe, empty yourself of thought, connect to your higher self, surrender to bliss. Excellent practice for health. At the end of a busy stressful day, many people turn to the media anesthesia of television. Time to relax, be distracted, and feel positive. After all, their life is good in comparison to the guy on the autopsy table in CSI or the folks anxiously waiting for the ransom call with the FBI. Did you ever notice that watching stories like that on the morning news is depressing, but watching it at night in a make believe scenario is considered entertainment? But, I digress. Back to my original train of thought, carving out quiet time to write.

I often do my best thinking and writing in the dark. Before bed, in the middle of the night, or in the predawn hours, I am alone with the voices in my head. No distractions, no need to defend my position, argue my point or justify my feelings to anyone. In that precious time, I get to experience my self, my experiences, my dreams authentically and creatively. Keeping a notepad by the bed to capture a thought worth remembering led to journaling. It is even easier now to write in the dark on my I Pad which doesn't require turning on a lamp. Reading what I wrote by light of day led to the revelation that my love affair with language is not just verbal but has more heft when written. Addicted to reading at an early age, I have always been in awe of authors. Now suddenly I realized that what I think and what I write has some validity, wit or wisdom worth sharing. We share our thoughts in conversation daily, giving opinions and advice with ease. The moment we put it in writing, wow, that suddenly changes everything. The spoken word in conversation can be ephemeral. Depending on the listeners response, you can justify, explain or even take back your words. But the moment you put your thoughts in writing, that is commitment! Taking it to the level of letting other people read your work is like tap dancing naked in public.
But, when I receive the first response of " I love what you wrote", it is such a great feeling, heady, encouraging and exciting.

As a kid, I hated creative writing classes. Back to school and the first dreaded assignment to write what you did over the summer. The moment that white lined piece of paper was placed on my desk, at the correct angle for proper Palmer penmanship, the classic writer's block set in. I did not have a single original, creative thought in my own head. Of course, reading at least thirty books over the summer, I was comparing my efforts to Nancy Drew novels and then later, Shakespeare. But I could write a mean book report. I could wax poetic with great enthusiasm over a book I had read.

This week my book club gathered for dinner at my home. The selection was nonfiction for a change. The author is well renowned and lives locally, Anne Lamott. The title is BIRD BY BIRD Some Instructions on Writing and Life. Candid and witty, Ann shares her experience and insight on the emotional and creative compulsions of would be authors, herself included. She speaks of students in her workshops who all share the gift of loving to read with passion and just wanting to write, whether they are good at it or not. The creative process is work and play together. She says, " Heads spin with ideas and invention. They"ll see the world through new eyes. Everything they see and hear and learn will become grist for the mill."

I realized my feelings were not unique when Ann captured them in words so perfectly. " I honestly think in order to be a writer, you have to learn to be reverent. If not, why are you writing? Why are you here? Let's think of reverence as awe, as presence in and openness to the world. The alternative is that we stultify, we shut down. Think of those times when you have read prose or poetry that is presented in such a way that you have a fleeting sense of being startled by beauty or insight, by a glimpse into someone's soul. All of a sudden everything seems to fit together or at least to have some meaning for a moment."

In describing getting started she shares " Yet somehow in the face of all this, you clear a space for the writing voice, hacking away at the others with machetes, and you begin to compose sentences. You begin to string words together like beads to tell a story. You are desperate to communicate, to edify or entertain, to preserve moments of grace or joy or transcendence, to make real or imagined events come alive. But you cannot will this to happen. It is a matter of persistence and faith and hard work. So you might as well just go ahead and get started."

I wish I had written that....

Ode to the IRS

Not written by Bruce Springsteen, yet his melody, Born in the USA kept running through my head yesterday. I spent three days preparing tax documents in order to be exempt from paying taxes on money received to be given away in charity. The song should be titled, Owed to the IRS, not Ode.

While we can all list complaints about paying taxes, little thought is given to the benefits we often take for granted. Oddly, the first thing that came to my mind is paved roads and our national highway system. If you have ever traveled the unpaved roads in a third world country, you know what I mean. A long and tortuous drive through ditches the size of hippos, on roads not wide enough for two cars to pass in opposite directions, makes you long for a date with your chiropractor and possibly your dentist. I traveled seventy miles in less than two hours this week. In many places,, if you even had a safe car, that could take the better part of a day.

Being able to call 911 is a benefit. In moments, the resources of police, paramedics and fire department come racing to your aid. All they ask is the nature of your emergency and your location. There are no questions about your race, religion, politics or finances.

If real life is anything like what I watch on NCIS LA, well, I am glad that our taxes pay for protection and defense while I enjoy my day and sleep securely at night. I also appreciate the sacrifice and dedication of those in military service. By nature, I am a pacifist. That being said, I will wreak violent banshee hell on anyone who tries to hurt my family.

I appreciate our economic system of imports and exports that lets me enjoy bananas and other fruits out of season, fresh flowers before our spring blooms, and aromatic spices grown only in remote parts of the world.

Our National park system, public libraries, and educational system offering thirteen years of education for every child are funded through taxation. If a child can't read, you can blame the family, not a teacher. Our public health and sanitation departments guard us from epidemic diseases through vaccination and waste management. We no longer fear tuberculosis, polio, smallpox, typhoid, cholera or measles.

Yes, we need proper oversight to avoid mismanagement of our communal funds.
True, unscrupulous businesses may cheat us all by scamming government contracts.
Each of us has more influence than we realize. Individual voices create a roar that our leaders must listen to. Pay attention to legislation, vote responsibly, attend town hall meetings, learn how your local and federal government works. Protest large corporations that do business here but establish a business office abroad to avoid paying taxes in the USA where they are really located. These tax loopholes must be closed if our economy is to grow. With millions unemployed and surviving on government benefits like unemployment and food stamps, we need all taxes to be paid fairly.

Lend your voice to causes that touch your heart in particular. It is so easy by registering on a website and signing petitions to legislators online. You can do it from your kitchen table. Volunteer in your community. Mentor someone else's child. Take a course in local emergency management and disaster preparedness.

If we don't get involved at a local community level, keep up with legislation, and take time to cast an informed vote, then we should shut up and quit complaining. WE are part of the problem and not the solution.

We definitely need to create change and It begins at home. I am grateful to live right here in America. I believe that we can work together to make our country stronger and the world healthier for all.

Without reservation

We all have certain situations that intimidate us. Some are to be expected. Public speaking strikes fear in the heart of many. Jumping off literal cliffs does it to me. Add skydiving to that list. Heights don't bother me, just falling from them.

An interesting situation came up. Many years ago, while reading an article in National Geographic, I saw photos of scientists zip lining through the jungle canopy in the rainforest. Cool, I would love to do that. Fast forward to about seven years ago, I was on a working vacation in Costa Rica with two of my sisters. Eco-travel is the popular thing there, focusing on environmental preservation. That translates to unpaved roads, sharing your hotel room with bugs the size of robins and lizards in the shower. The scenery left me breathless, or maybe it was the ninety eight percent humidity. Anyway, they offered zip line tours through the tree canopy. Wow, I always wanted to do that! My sisters and I signed right up.

Early morning and it began with a hike uphill. Our guides were young men, about five foot four. That fact becomes relevant a little later when they have to hoist and unclamp tourists three times their size on four foot wide platforms lodged in trees. With typical enthusiasm, my sisters and I were looking forward to this fun, bonding experience. Then we got to the first zip line. You begin climbing wooden stairs up the side of a tree, and keep climbing. At the top, on the first platform, with only a rope strung around to guard people from falling off, we suddenly realize that we are very high off the ground. Now, did I mention the falling or jumping from heights issue? In my enthusiasm for doing something on my bucket list, I forgot about my fear. I learned something valuable. My fear of embarrassing myself in front of strangers by chickening out was greater than my fear of heights. Who would have thought? I also learned that my youngest sister didn't realize that she had a fear of jumping from heights until that moment. Make that instant paranoia. Now, climbing down that rickety ladder looked hazardous, so did getting lost in the rainforest alone. So, after watching other hardy souls hook into harnesses and fly thru the trees safely and assurances from the guides that no tourist had died doing this, I was game. My sister took a lot of coaxing. It was exhilarating. Each successive zip line was longer. Our confidence soared. It was beautiful, in some places the ground was a hundred feet below, but it didn't matter. The experience of being in the trees, the lush greenery, eye level with birds and blue skies above was incredible. The excitement lasted for days. If I could to do this, I could try anything ( well almost, maybe). I still preferred watching the volcano glow from a distance. Did I mention a fear of fire?

Now, what really astounds me is that many people I know will not go into a restaurant and dine alone. Their fear of being judged and discomfiture overrules their appetite. On a list of terrifying experiences to be avoided at all costs, that seems to come right after spiders, snakes and public speaking but before death for many people. A few hungry souls who travel for business will bring a book to protect them. It confers instant invisibility to all except the waitress. So they think. I have never understood this fear. Most have been eating since a very early age, were taught which fork to use and speak the native tongue. Not being being able to read the menu, especially in a place that serves roasted scorpions and monkey brains, okay I get that. It's totally understandable. But to miss a delicious, dining experience because you are alone? The restaurant welcomes you as a guest. Relax into your seat, order a glass of wine or a cup of tea if you prefer. Look around. People watching is fun. And just think, people will be admiring your confidence and
sophistication. They may wonder if you are a spy, a food critic, or a researcher into the cure for cancer.

Dare to challenge your fears. This does not require bungee jumping. Perhaps just a nice lunch alone in a quiet little restaurant or standing up to add your voice at a local community meeting. If you love to sing in the shower, join a local choir. Stretch yourself, even a little. Dare to let desire overcome fear. When you do, confidence expands exponentially. Courage becomes contagious and compelling. Knowing, if I did this then I CAN do that leads to a fuller, richer experience of life.

Now, to overcome that fear of trying on swimsuits....

Time to change...

End of another winter and daylight savings time has lengthened our day. The attention of the populace turns to personal change in routine and maybe even in life. Organized by linear time, minutes, hours, days, years, has its advantages. In fact, it is essential for society to function cohesively. For most it represents security.

Living off the traditional time clock for the last year has been a gift and a lesson.
I've been aware of being truly present in my life. Following my natural biorhythms, especially in dealing with illness has reduced a great deal of stress around it. Pain management has taken a more natural course which has definitely been healthier.

Having time to be with people whose company I enjoy has enhanced my quality of life. True friendships deepened with time spent together. Better than Prozac or even chocolate, caring relationships are what sustains us. I've been available to help friends after surgery, find someone a new home and decorate it, clear out clutter and make trips to the hospital. My talents were put to use and I felt rewarded.

Spending time in nature was rejuvenating. Not only was the exercise beneficial, but witnessing the magic and majesty of this world inspired me. I became aware of the shifting nuances of light. The view may not have changed but my perception of it had changed hour by hour. The call of seagulls, the ringing of rigging against masts in the breeze, the lapping of waves as the tide turned, all brought joy. Seeing dogs frolic in abandoned play brought me back to being present for momentary pleasure.
I discovered hummingbirds everywhere in the quicksilver flicker of leaves.

Many things that I thought I wanted to pursue, like oil painting, I didn't. It must not have been a true calling or I would have done it. Instead, I relished the creativity of setting a lovely table for tea for friends who would appreciate the temporary artistry. I found more pleasure in the colorful palette of vegetables and spices in daily meal preparation than in the attempt to replicate beauty on a canvas.

I had the time to create and listen to inner dialogue, to process thought and become reacquainted with myself at the core. No sales spiel, or advertising spin, no placating, or making excuses, just following an idea all the way through. Quiet reflection and discovered wisdom, self awareness realized, and misconceptions recognized and released.

Financial constraints made me be grateful for what I have and not what I am missing.
How often we buy things trying to fill an emotional need not a practical one. Donating possessions, still useful or beautiful but just taking up closet space untouched for years, has made me feel wealthy. On rainy nights, I gave thanks for a warm, dry bed often taken for granted. I have wasted less, shared more, and savored daily gifts once unnoticed in the rush of making a living instead of a life.

It has been a year of reprieve. A breast biopsy benign, an incurable blind spot in my eye just outside if the field of vision, tumors growing where a womb once was, also harmless. After a long time waiting, a grandson was born. . Life goes on in our family.

My world has expanded with an infant discarded in Kenya. Named Hope, she has given me just that. She has hope for a future and I have hope in making a difference. As Ralph Waldo Emerson defines success, " to know one life has breathed easier because I have lived". Other lives have been touched by her little presence on earth, hearts filled with love.

I am grateful for all this past year has brought. Richer for the experience, wiser for the lessons, joyful for the love.

Confident that I can rise to the occasion of challenge and change, I welcome a new spring season. Opening the door to possibility and discovering more potential in whatever circumstances I find myself in, I plan to remain in gratitude and in service to the world.

When the coffee grows cold...

You wouldn't think that is a good thing, right? But actually it is. I became so engrossed in reading the Sunday paper and a flashy new local magazine that I stopped sipping.

Two laugh out loud comics on the absurd truth of life are worthy of clipping and mailing to a friend with the same weird sense of humor. A photo and recipe for fresh cherry margaritas that might add some dazzle to my menu for the book club dinner that I am hosting. With a snap of the I pad camera, I can send the recipe to my niece who is a professional mixologist and see what she thinks of it.

The home and garden section gets me excited about adding some pots of flowers to my deck to freshen up the all green color scheme. The local craft store has silk flowers on sale! Great. It's time to do the window boxes on the front of the house. After providing several feasts for the local deer, I have had to keep the live flowers in the back yard, tomatoes and herbs planted behind a fence on the sunniest side of the house, and only artificial flowers in the front window box. Hey, no one can tell from the street and the faux blooms lend charm to a pretty ordinary house.

The new Robert Redford movie THE COMPANY YOU KEEP starts next Friday. Instant flashback to 1973. THE WAY WE WERE starring Himself and Barbara Streisand. The new movie may be described as a thriller, but trust me, with Robert Redford, it qualifies as a baby boomer chick flick!

The Food and Wine section has gotten my creative juices flowing. Time for stream of consciousness cooking. I may experiment in the kitchen today baking flat bread from a pizza dough recipe. Brush it with olive oil, sprinkle on chopped garlic, a little coarse salt. No, nix the salt and add sliced Kalamata olives and slivers of sweet onion. Bake until golden then dust with flakes of fresh basil and drizzle on some sour cream laced with grated Parmesan. My stomach is now growling a reminder to eat breakfast.

Time to pour a hot cup of coffee......world news can wait until after an omelet.

Not MY dog...

It's true. Technically, they are not my dogs. Like many today, we are a blended family, his, hers, mine, ours. Roger, his ex, and I ( big hearted co-dependent aka glutton for punishment) share custody of their family dogs. Imagine the adjustment as interior designer with imported wool area rugs, sofa and chairs in pale yellow, custom made bedding and draperies shares home with wet, shedding, roommates totally lacking manners. They waltz in, think " nice digs and look at those great nineteen inch square chew toys on the sofa!". Apparently, beautiful decor and and happy home are not synonymous with rambunctious dogs present.

Cast of characters, in order of appearance:
Mattie, cocker spaniel who thinks she is Kim Kardasian channeling an Italian dominatrix with anger management issues. Both of us being menopausal, we are simpatico. She rules the house, demands adoration and gets it.
Bentley, teenaged golden retriever with low ambition. Think Owen Wilson on speed with ADD, adorable, but suffering from kleptomania. He has trained me to give him treats in exchange for giving me back the shoe, steak knife, or tv remote... Only pretends to be dopey and feigns innocence in a bid for winning an Oscar. He is totally terrified of Mattie.
Sometime visitor, Rocco, a rescue from Lake County known for its meth labs. Part pit bull and totally misunderstood, he belongs to Roger's daughter. He lived with us for about six weeks and now occasionally comes for dinner. His basso profundo bark terrorizes the neighborhood. He may have a career doing voice overs for vicious attack dogs. He loves his crate, going to bed early with cookies and milk, sleeping late and reading Thich Naht Hanh. A gentle soul dedicated to curbing his leash aggression in a twelve step program. He looks like Vin Diesel but prefers the Prius to fast cars. He also avoids the wrath of Mattie. Like Bentley, he thinks he is a lap dog.

Things really get interesting in the kitchen. Galley style, I have 36" by eleven feet of runway workspace. Just wide enough to open the oven and dishwasher. Imagine cooking dinner in that space with eight extra legs, two tennis balls and one large thwapping tail. They are an appreciative audience sitting as close as possible to the action with paws crossed in anticipation. With rapt attention, they take notes as food critics for the canine edition of Bon Appetit. Bentley has devoured a copy of MY LIFE IN FRANCE by Julia Child. Like Julia, he believes every sauce is better with a dallop of butter. In preparation for one dinner party, he absconded with not one, but two sticks of butter that I had softening at the back of the stove. One he ate wrapper and all. Calorie conscious, he discarded the second wrapper in the yard.

Retired now, Roger spends his days hiking the hills with the dogs. Everyone breaks even on calories, so dinner indulgence is guilt free. The dogs know everyone in the neighborhood and which houses to visit and score a treat. They provide instant affection, endless entertainment and constant reminders on what is really important. In our house, life has gone to dogs and we wouldn't have it any other way.

In case of emergency...

In case of emergency, dial 911 right? Of course, if the house is on fire or someone is bleeding profusely, we keep the phone handy. In our home, the code is, in case of emergency, throw a pizza in the oven. A few days ago, Roger came home and said "let's keep it simple tonight, just throw a pizza in the oven". If you look in our refrigerator, you will always find at least two small gourmet pizzas on the shelf. If I'm not home to prepare dinner, he's got it covered. Roasted mushroom, goat cheese, or Quattro fromaggio are his favorites. Now, me being from the East coast, nothing compares to a New York slice. If you have ever eaten pizza in NY or NJ, you will never be truly satisfied with anything else. It must be something in the water that makes that crust so special. Never eaten with a knife and fork, you crack the outer rim of crust, fold on half, and burn your mouth on the first perfect bite dripping with cheese. As you pull the slice away, the cheese stretches like taffy. Using your fingers to break it is acceptable table etiquette. I salivate with the memory. Back to story, I popped the requested pizza into the oven, set the timer on my microwave ( note to self, buy new timer) for thirteen minutes. I sit down at the kitchen table and stick my nose in a book for a few minutes diversion.
Suddenly, I smell pizza. I jump up and check, the pie is very golden on top, not a desired color. I check the timer and it had already rang, unheard, because I had my nose in a book. Interesting medical phenomena, when reading, I suddenly become hard of hearing. My children knew, when growing up, that speaking to me if I was reading was futile until I heard " and there is a snake under your chair. ". That always got my attention. I hate snakes. So, I serve the golden pizza with some salad to Roger who is in the recliner watching the news and go back to my book. A few minutes later, he comes into the kitchen, the pizza slides into the trash without complaint. We both laugh, because a week earlier he watched me cook dinner for eighty in our small kitchen with military timing and here I botch up a ready made pizza. Blame the book.
Moral of the story, books and bites don't mix! With open flames, or sharp knives, give the task at hand full attention. There is always time to read fifteen minutes later!

For the record, we do have real emergency supplies on hand. A fire extinguisher, bottled water, and a large earthquake preparedness kit. Roger and I have each lived through damaging hurricanes, tornadoes and earthquakes. In 1989, the Marina district in San Francisco was hit with the Loma Prieta earthquake. At home at the time, Roger grabbed his young daughter and escaped down a flight of swaying stairs. A few minutes later, his neighborhood was destroyed and his home was in flames. Everything they owned was gone. They were lucky. Some of the neighbors lost their lives. He and his family were uninjured. It is not what you have that is important, but WHO you have that is.

Even though I live on the West Coast now, I always follow news from home. Heartbroken over the devastation of Super storm Sandy, I keep in touch with friends and family in NJ. Via Facebook, I have had the joy of reconnecting with classmates and cousins not seen in years. 2013 is a milestone marking our 40th high school reunion. Hopefully, we will gather to share and celebrate lessons learned, lives well lived and a remembrance of some classmates who left life too early. And, if I'm lucky, pizza will be on the menu!

Seeking inner bliss...

Dear God,

Please clear my mind from distractions
Which bubble like seltzer foaming over the rim.
Let me be like a still pool, calm and reflective
For I have decisions to make.

I seek meaningful work, using my strengths to benefit others.
I seek financial security which lets me be generous, independent and debt free.
I seek flexibility in schedule so I can care for myself and be available to others.
I seek the wisdom to make right choices from a place of confidence not fear.
I seek service to others without self sabotage.
I seek to dwell in Grace leaving behind the need for challenges to prove my faith.

Clear my mind, sweet Spirit and calm my heart. Help me dwell in gratitude and appreciation for all that I am, all that I have and all that I can be and not what i have lost.

Let me be a reflection of the love that is made in your image along with wisdom, justice and power.

Let me celebrate the experience and lessons of my years, realizing that lifting spirits requires a strong heart not a strong body.

Let me clothe myself with kindness for it is always the perfect fit. Let my glasses be rose colored in compassion to tint my world view and spread peace from understanding.


Remind me daily that joy comes with self possession not from possessing more things. Help me fill my emptiness with creativity not mindless calories knowing that my appetite is for a fuller life not a fuller stomach.

Let me rest easy in surrender of situations beyond my control. Misery is random but happiness is intentional.

May this day be blessed for me and for all.

Illness is a capricious mistress.

She may dally with a flu bug, dance with seasonal allergies or damn us with an incurable crippling illness. And so it is these days with cousins who live just two doors away. At age 77, he has been diagnosed with ALS. Active and healthy as a horse until just a year ago, Ron didn't see a doctor even once a year. The deterioration has been rapid and Hospice has been called in. To add insult to injury, his wife is undergoing chemotherapy for lymphoma. Double whammy!

So, each day Roger delivers their morning newspaper from driveway to door step, makes sure the trash cans are taken to the curb on the right days for pick up.
Me, I bring gifts from my kitchen. Oh, that I could season my marinara with a cure!
So I make up a dish of chicken cacciatore, tender feelings falling off the bone.
Small portions, so they don't feel overwhelmed as appetites dwindle. Crisp, golden fish cakes of flaky steelhead trout, panko breadcrumbs, green onions, fresh parsley and dill, a dash of garlic and lots of TLC blended in.

Last year, when I was recovering from surgery, my friend Julie dropped off a quart of the the BEST ever homemade lentil soup. I was so touched by her gift. The delicious soup nourished my heart as well as my body.

If you haven't read it already, you must read THE END OF YOUR LIFE BOOK CLUB by Will Schwalbe. For avid readers, the appendix alone is a treasure trove of great book recommendations. It is non fiction and was a selection I chose for our book club. The author presents the poignant relationship he and his mother shared during her cancer treatments. The conversation would begin with "what are you reading?" and continues with the diary of a book club for two. A quote from his mother, Maryanne, " Reading isn't the opposite of doing, it is the opposite of dying." Mentioned in that book is another recommendation, THE ETIQUETTE OF ILLNESS by Susan Halpern. So often people say the less than comforting thing to someone who is dying. Some may even avoid the patient altogether because they are at a loss for words. Ms. Halpern's book may be helpful. It is on my "to read " list.

Wishing you all a day of vibrant health!

Fall from Grace

Quite literally, I took a tumble today that looked like amateur hour at the Cirque du Soleil. I was multitasking at the time, as usual. The irony is I was having a conversation on my cell phone lamenting the necessity of organizing the assistance of other people in funding projects in Kenya. My daughter and I started a very small non-profit, World Care Connections. She is a nurse and spends her vacation time traveling to remote villages in Africa on medical mission trips. As I was telling someone this morning on the phone " it would be so much easier if I could just do the whole thing myself". Boom, next thing I knew I was in an unexpected and intricate yoga pose on the family room floor. Just when I am thinking I should be doing this project on my own, I fall flat on the floor. I hate asking for help, especially financial aid. I want to save the world but hate trick or treating for UNICEF. The lesson here, though, seems to be that none of us are meant to go it alone. There is huge energy in people working together in compassionate connection. We all feel better being part of something for the greater good. It is not just about raising funds to support a baby rescued in Kenya to have medical care, food and clothing. It is about encouraging people here to feel the power and joy of making a difference. Creating connections for making the world a better place by interacting with people here as part of the project is as vital as the end result in Africa. I almost lost sight of that.

So, as my bruises and sprains heal, I will take comfort in the lesson learned from Mother Theresa. "I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."

Many thanks!

I am so delighted and appreciative of the enthusiastic response to my new endeavor here.  Connecting with friends brings back so many memories and somehow the best memories include food!  As a young family starting out, we had friends in similar circumstances.  Little kids, new mortgages and not much expendable income.  Often on Friday evenings, we would get together over a pot of spaghetti and a homemade chocolate cake.  We drank cheap wine and the kids played together in another room.  They were the best times!  No fancy table settings needed, just good friends, good food and maybe a deck of cards.

These days I step it up a notch.  I love creating tablescapes, mixing and matching dishes, cloth napkins, unusual center pieces, casual and colorful. The menus may  have become more inspired, but the joy of friends and family sharing the meal remains the best part of it all.

To add a little history, my dining room table is the oval drop leaf table that was in my great grandmother's kitchen when I was born.  I have stained the top and repainted the legs through the years.  I learned to write at that table and so did my daughters.  It was the scene of many pancake breakfasts at the Jersey shore along with spilled milk, no tears shed!  It has held card games, jigsaw puzzles and lots of Play Doh.  The years of love surrounding that table flavors my dishes with something that can't be grown in a garden, only grown in a heart!

Peggy, a new friend, asked me to spend an afternoon soon making homemade rosemary jelly.  Like me, she has a rosemary growing outside her door.  I can't wait.  Rosemary jelly....I can smell a rack of  spring lamb roasting now...