Friday, October 06, 2006

Mad Scientists, Prairie Dogs and Shrines In answer to the timeless question "Does a bear shit in the woods?", I can state unequivocally "I have no idea, but it certainly does in our back yard!" October in Colorado is when the bears gorge to fatten themselves before hibernation. Our organic non-toxic garden sings an irresistable siren song to the neighborhood fauna. Foxes, deer, birds, squirrels and now bears pass through our green restaurant. We don't seem to bother the young bear, and he hasn't bothered us so far. It's a peaceful coexistence we share. That, and a rich crop of vegetables, due to a bountiful rainy season. I've travelled a lot this month. The adventures I've hinted at in recent posts are too wondrous and complex to cover in a simple statement. I tend to do things and visit people that are completely out of the spectrum of normal existence for the average American. A recent workshop took me to the hills of northern Colorado, where a magical genius of a man has spent decades building geometric forms all over his land. He's like a mad scientist, only not mad. Everything he says adds up. His geometric forms are his way of capturing the perfection and love of the creator and amplifying it. Such a fascinating concept! An in-depth story on this visit is in the works. Another weekend took me back to Boulder, where I had some fun with prairie dogs and jackrabbits. More on that when I have time. In the morning, I leave to spend a week in California. I'm taking a course in how to give effective seminars and workshops. I plan to visit the ocean, and Yogananda's Lake Shrine in Santa Monica, during my free time. The redwoods are calling to me, but I don't yet see how I can get there to answer their invitation. Every good adventure becomes even more adventurous in sharing the story with others. Happy adventures to you all! I look forward to hearing your stories. * * * * * * * * 9:38:30 PM    comment []

Friday, September 22, 2006

Updates More photos have been posted on my Blogger photo blog.  There's a link in the sidebar over there on the left, too. Feel free to check them out, but I give you fair warning: they're pictures of my rabbits.  Again. There's a newly renovated, newly posted article over at my other, more serious, blog. It's based on an article I posted here a year ago, so if it looks a little familiar, you're right. Come back soon for more interesting stories. I've been having adventures again, but the writing is lagging behind the adventuring. * * * * * * * * 11:35:52 PM    comment []

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

World's Yummiest Natural Cold Remedy Worlds Yummiest Natural Cold Remedy - Organic even! Boil a big pot of purified water. Turn heat down to low when it boils. Add fresh organic ginger, sliced thinly. Use about 2" of ginger root. Scrub 1 each organic lemon and lime. Slice thin (including rind) into the water. Add a small amount of organic cayenne - just a dash. Add some honey to taste. Let it simmer on lowest heat for a couple hours. Keep it on the stove all day & have a cup whenever possible. mmmmMMMMmmmm!!! Great for comforting a sinus congestion too, and is an effective mild liver cleanser. For liver cleansing purposes, drink a cup of this warm lemonade first thing in the morning, before eating. Why use organic ingredients? Because if you're trying to encourage your system to go into "rinse" mode, you don't want to be pouring the herbicides, pesticides and toxic chemical fertilizers that are often present in non-organic produce. I don't recommend using distilled water, because demineralized water tends to grab minerals from your body as it passes through. Purified water or spring water, which still contain the nutritious minerals, are a much better idea. * * * * * * * * 7:15:12 PM    comment []

Monday, September 04, 2006

Crocodiles, Motorcycles and Redwoods I'll miss that eccentric, excitable Crocodile Man Steve Irwin!  His voice got on my nerves, but his shows were always interesting and his attitude delightful.  He taught me a lot of facts that I may never have need of, in an entertaining way.  Although his ticket out of this world was bizarre, it suited him perfectly.  He cashed in his ticket in the wilds of nature, doing what he loved, and was instantly gone before he could have felt a thing.  I would wish the same for everyone. I had a close friend in high school named Jim.  He was the one riding his bicycle across a creaky footbridge with no rails, or riding his motorcycle along a precipice.  He preferred to walk along the tops of railings rather than on the sidewalk.  Danger thrilled him, made him feel the pulse of life running through his veins.  I went off to college and eventually heard that Jim had camped at the very edge of a cliff in California, and died on the rocks below.  After my burning grief cooled, I was grateful for his method of death.  It was ideal for Jim's spirit... daring, instant, and in his sleep.  He may have still been in his sleeping bag. What's my ideal method of departure from this world?  I wonder.  I'm not the wild-animal-wrestling type.  I'm not a daredevil.  The "instant" and "asleep" aspects appeal to me.  Maybe I could just glide up and out of my body while hiking deep in a redwood forest.  A  large and loving Hand of Light could grab me up and take me to the next stop on my infinite adventure.  Or maybe I could glide out while napping under a redwood during a long hike.  That sounds just right for me. * * * * * * * * 2:47:35 PM    comment []

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Horse Tag Sunlight glinted off his buckskin-beige back as he pranced. Plastic grocery bag gripped in his teeth, the yearling tossed his charcoal mane and rustled the bag. He reared up and waved the bag, taunting. Four other yearlings in various tints of brown turned to grab it. He bowed down under their snapping teeth, whipped to the side and ran. They thundered after him in mock fury. Sixteen graceful, dusty legs powered the herd of youngsters towards the far fence by the stream where I stood with my friend and our dogs. The tan and black horse reared up again, laughed his horsey laugh, and changed the game from Keep-Away to Tag. He put his head down and ran bag-first toward his buddies. They whinnied and scattered in mock terror. He chased them in circles, until they all got tired. A few moments passed. Peace began to settle on the paddock. Just as the horses’ muscles began to relax, Mr. Buckskin shook his plastic bag in a frenzy! Everyone startled and jumped to grab the bag again. He ducked, reared, pranced, and ran, celebrating the joy of being young and strong on a summer day. Then he dove after the others again, shoving the bag at their haunches in an unmistakable effort to tag them. The mares in a nearby pen watched, probably keeping score. We humans watched, envying them their natural beauty and wild power. Our dogs were more interested in swimming. As we continued our hike past the horses, I marveled over the innate understanding and enjoyment of those two games - Keep-Away and Tag - that’s common to all mammals. I even played tag once (very carefully!) with a wolf. It seems that we’re all born knowing the rules. When played by spunky young horses in a sunlit field, those games are transformed into utterly beautiful dances of celebration. I’m so glad I was there to see it! * * * * * * * * 3:53:28 PM    comment []

Monday, August 21, 2006

The Story of a Wedding A monumental honor  in my life is being asked to perform a marriage ceremony between two loving people.  Recently I did just that.  As an InterFaith Minister - embracing all spiritual paths, affiliated with no one religion -  I built a ceremony specifically to suit their interests.  Sitting in a coffee shop, we leafed through books until we'd chosen songs, poems and vows that perfectly represented them and their heritages.  I was asked not to use the word "God".  They were delighted to replace it with "Life" and "Love".  We created a ceremony focused on emotion. The wedding took place on a rock outcropping above a green valley, beneath a towering mountain.  Before people arrived, I stood under the gazebo, breathing.  In this next hour, I would represent the sacredness of living and loving, to them.  I, myself, was briefly their altar.  The bride and groom were casualties of religion gone bad, but their souls were alive with awe for creation.  In this coming hour, I needed to represent the closeness of sacred mystery and the vastness of the universe, for them.  I swept the gazebo free of crumbled granite, red rock dust, cigarette butts.  Nobody brought a broom, so I borrowed a windshield brush from a guest's car.  With each broom stroke, I asked for Love to seat itself into that gazebo.  I asked for balance and harmony to bless the marriage, and the spot where we gathered to unite two lives.  I asked for angels to grace their marriage forever.  I invited all the Love of the universe to join us and celebrate the trust and hope being enacted today.  Still silently inviting, I took my ministerial stole from its box and placed it carefully over my shoulders. The moment when a bride walks down the aisle, beaming joy, is a private and sacred thing.  As minister, I received that radiant joy every time she met my eyes, listening.  The groom met my eyes with a tear-wet face.  It was hard to contain the intensity of emotion without bursting! The brilliance of their love washed us all clean.  Family and friends alike were moved to tears. I was sorry when it was over.  They thanked me repeatedly for contributing to their most important day.  In truth, they gave me as much as I gave them!  I have work that requires me to step into sacred consciousness, when invited.  They asked me, gave me that hour in the light.  Now they pass through my mind every so often.   I wonder how their new life is going, with a little twinge of pride for my part in it.  They likely have no idea how much they matter to me, for that shining moment we had together. * * * * * * 7:32:52 PM    comment []

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

New Animals from Old Gypsy lay in the grass, eyes closed in ecstatic trance, while I brushed her thick, wavy fur.  Four strokes and the brush was full.  Each time I emptied the brush, another ball of red-gold fur joined the collection on the lawn.  When I was done, it looked like she was surrounded by miniature guinea pigs.  I wadded all the furballs together into one, and it was the size and dimensions of our dearly departed guinea pig! I went indoors and “the boys” (our rabbits) were having a rolling scuffle throughout the house.  Fur flew through the air behind them – white, then orange, then white again. Mostly they cuddle and hop everywhere together, but periodically Sandy tests to see if he can take over now as King. Evidently today is not the day he takes over. After banishing Sandy to his rec room retreat, and Ziggy back to his bedroom kingdom, I went on a fur-gathering mission.  The handful of multicolor rabbit fur wadded down to about the size of a mouse. I could easily become a mad scientist, and fashion new animals from the fur of my old ones! A mouse made of rabbit fur, a guinea pig made of dog fur. Maybe they’d sell on e-bay.  Anyone want to make an offer? .  :- )  * * * * * * * 9:20:26 PM    comment []

Thursday, August 03, 2006

Mountainside Anniversary Adventure My calendar proclaimed the impossible... that it's been a full year since my feet were severely injured. I pondered the circumstances during the few days around the anniversary of the life-changing event. I had hopped barefoot off a ladder onto cement, tore the fascia in the bottom of both feet, compressed my spine, put my back muscles into 10 days of spasm, and twisted up the fascia (connective tissue) in my entire body in the process. Not comprehending the extent of the injury, I said "ow" and put on my hiking boots for a long hike. I didn't begin learning about how to repair the damage until two months on the couch forced me to learn. A recent sweltering July day inspired Gary and me to find a cool place to go. The coolest spot, of course, is the reservoir halfway up the side of Pikes Peak. In the car, with an excited dog panting over my shoulder, the date suddenly struck me. Exactly one year before, I had hiked around that same reservoir after my injury. By the time I returned to the car, I knew I was in big trouble. Now, on the anniversary of that fateful date, I was returning to take my first decent hike in a year. It went well. I hiked slowly but normally around the far side of the reservoir. We set our things by the water's edge and inhaled peace. I built a castle out of the crumbled granite particles that serve as sand. Rocky Mountain seagull feathers decorated the red granite turrets. The wet crumbled stones massaged the soles of my feet. I held out dog cookies on my palm; Gypsy delicately plucked them off to devour. Gary and I drank mint-leaf water and ate organic nuts. I held out almonds for our gourmet dog to eat off my hand as if it were a platter. We splashed and chased one another through the shallows. One step too far almost sent me tumbling into the depths of the snowmelt lake! As the sun began to lower, we rested on the shore. I selected the perfect assortment of stones, all ovals about one inch long. I held them on my hand, so Gary and I could take turns tossing them in. The goal was to see who could throw a stone the farthest; the prize was a good kiss. Shortly into the game, Gypsy began to whine. She is not the whining type of dog, normally. She lay with her head on her paws, brow furrowed in concern. Whenever we threw another stone, she whined. Eventually we understood. The stones were exactly the same size and shape as her dog cookies and her almond snacks. I held them in my palm the same way as I fed her. She thought we were throwing her snacks into the water! Poor little tormented dog! We showed her the stones, let her sniff and lick them. After that the whining ended, but her brow remained furrowed til we stopped tossing stones. Two miles up in the air, the clouds are a whole lot closer than normal. We watched the slowly gathering clouds mingle their grays over the lake. Without warning, a thunderclap exploded just over our heads like a bomb. We could feel the electricity on our skin. All the fishing fathers and sons, all the hikers among the aspens, all the relaxers like us grabbed our gear and leapt into action. The lake was vacated in a matter of moments, as the rain began. We exchanged rueful laughter as we passed one another, soaked but smiling under the high altitude rainbow as we hurried along the trails. The rain was refreshing. Nobody died of thunder exposure. Best of all, my feet felt good the whole way back! Now I'm on a regimen of regular short hikes, to build back my strength. Revisiting my favorite hiking spots feels like a reunion of old friends. The doctors said it takes a year to heal from this type of injury, but only now do I believe them. With the company of nature and my trusty walking stick, I'm fully celebrating my ability to exericise again. Fitness, here I come. * * * * * * * * 4:42:00 PM    comment []

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