Hair!

 My grandmothers were such a wonderful, profound part of my life.  They always loved me, and they taught me a lot.  But some of our time together was very special.  I remember one summer when I was about three years old my Mom was busy with something, and hadn't the money or space to hire a full-time nanny.  So I spent half the the summer with each of my grandmothers.

My Dad's Mother was in Wisconsin Dells.  Most of my cousins were living in this summer resort.  I was in the middle of the cousins age-wise.  Grandma Kimball, my Dad's Mom, would pick berries and I ate as many as I could.  In later years I would pick along side her.  She picked at least twice as fast as I was, even when I was in college.

I remember that my Mom called her Mom "Ma" but my Mom wouldn't allow me to call her Ma!  Gramma Long lived in a very small village, and there was an outhouse.  It was a novelty, but not my favorite thing to use.  She cooked over a wood-fired iron cook-stove. And I can remember her skill.  She made donuts, which I had never had before that time.  There was a dog, and lots of cats.

My most vivid memory of that summer is about my hair.  I have lots of very thick, curly hair, even today.  Now, of course, it is short.  But until late in grade school it was mostly long.  My Mother would put it into ringlets after the weekly hair washing (I hated it!).  And each morning she brushed and tamed my hair into shape.  But the Grandmothers hadn't the practice that Mom had.  I don't remember how well, or not, they were at taming my mane.  But I am sure it was a challenge!

I had gone to camp the summer I was two.  My parents were teaching, and I was with a group of children of various ages. The counselors were very strict about keeping the children together, and not allowing them to sit with parents. We had meetings in a large tent, and I could see my Mom and Dad.  I escaped and went to sit with them, but someone came and got me.  I don't think I dared cry.

So . . . that week my hair went unbrushed.  My Dad tells me that he saw me with the group, my hair wild and tangled.  I don't remember what it took for Mom to get it back to shining orderly curls.

I also had an "Auntie."   Auntie Anna Esau wasn't really an aunt.  Though she was almost old enough to be a granny, she never married.  We had a wonderful friendship.  Anna adored me and I adored her.  Often people would stop and comment on how beautiful my hair was.  At the time I was less than five years old. I didn't know better when I went up to passersby and said, "Isn't my hair pretty?"  And, of course, they said yes, probably with a chuckle.  My Mom was mortified, but Anna just laughed and said, "She's just telling the truth!"

These days, I have a wonderful friend who has hair a lot like mine.  He has a hair salon, and tames the curls, now short, and makes them beautiful.  Thank you Ward Wicklund!

The Music of Ireland

Today I listened to the "Irish Priests", one of my Christmas favorites, even though it isn't really Christmas music.  Dad heard the music and asked for the CD to listen to, and we got into a discussion about Ireland.  I think my Irish blood is about 4 or 5 generations back.  My Irish ancestors were part of the Long clan.  My Grandfather on my Mother's side was Vern Long.

My Dad has been to Ireland and I haven't - yet.  He learned quite a bit about Ireland however, when he went there.  He told me about a book:  How the Irish Saved Civilization, by Thomas Cahill.  Cahill argues a case for the Irish people's critical role in preserving Western Civilization from utter destruction by the Huns and the Germanic tribes.  The Wikipedia entry is skeptical.  I would guess that there were many factors in European civilization, including the Irish monks toiling away at copying books. 

 We do know that Ireland has a long history of avoiding death as a penalty in any case.  We also know that St. Patrick brought Christianity, or to be precise, Catholicism, to Ireland.  Whether he got rid of the snakes is a very different question!  We also know that the Irish have music in their blood.  My Grandpa loved to sing, and it was one of the few ways of entertainment on the farm when my Mother was growing up.  Not so long before my Grandpa Long went to the nursing home, I went to where he lived, along with my Mother and her husband.  We all sang, even Grandpa.  It was quite wonderful.

No one can dispute the music and dancing of Ireland.  Both music and dance have been important for me as far back as I can remember.  I can't dance anymore in my arthritic body, but I can sing, and I do!  I love to hear beautiful music, especially if it is meaningful and/or fun.  And someday soon, I will visit Ireland in person.

Protest in the Sixties

It has been quite a while since I was in college in the University of Iowa.  It was in the second half of the sixties, and into the beginning of the seventies. Viet Nam was a constant nagging in the background, and at times burst into the open.  Dick Gregory talked to a huge auditorium full of students.  At the time he was on a hunger strike. There were peaceful protests on the grounds of the University, and at one point a temporary building was burned. 

I was in my junior year when Kent State burst into riots.  The University decided that anyone who chose could take their grade as it stood, and go home. I took the option, but I didn't have to go home because I lived off campus.

I was living in a community supported by the Lutheran Church.  We were a fairly large group, and we had adult mentors.  We discussed what we wanted to achieve: to tell adults why we were against the Viet Nam War.  As we had a church supporting us, we went to as many churches as we could, talking about what mattered to us. We simply did not believe war was the way to peace.

The University brought in the National Guards.  I remember taking a walk and passing a place where there were Guardsmen with rifles in hand. I didn't really believe the Guardsman would shoot me just walking by, but it was definitely scary.  Spooky!  The issues are not exactly the same, yet there are similarities.  The young people today are no longer in a lottery, and don't have to go to war against their will.  But there is so much damage to those who choose to go into the military - not just physical.  In fact, the mental and emotional damage can be even more difficult. 

My prayer is that we all will come to terms and stop killing people.  May we learn that we are all part of the whole, and we must learn to respect every being on the planet.

Upside Down Cake

"Let them eat cake!" This phrase is usually attributed to Marie Antoinette, even though there is no evidence for her having said this.  Yet whoever first said this . . . the attitude has survived much too long.  We are seeing it once again in the United States.  The big corporations once had legal boundaries, and once upon a time we had currency backed up with gold. The world we live in is cake turned upside down and messy.

There was a time when employers had a kind of unwritten contract with employees even if there was no written contract.  Employees often spent their entire working life in one corporation or company.  Now I don't necessarily advocate having the same job forever.  Yet, there is a very different expectation in much of corporate America these days.  Too often profits are the only goal.

Now the corporations are legally allowed to use their monetary clout in candidate elections. Two years ago, the Supreme Court overruled two important precedents about the First Amendment rights of corporations. A bitterly divided Supreme Court ruled that the government may not ban political spending by corporations in candidate elections.We haven't had a presidential election since then, but we will see what happens in the months to come.

I remember reading a speech by Adlai Stevenson, which suggested that if we had free trade around the entire globe, we would have no more war.  He was wrong, as we now know.  We arguably have more war on this planet than either Stevenson or Eisenhower could have imagined.  Sadly, we do not know how to end it. Much of it is about religion, but not all.  Some is about greed, and some is just about having enough to survive.

In the United States these days, too many people are hungry.  If you go to the the social services nearest you, I would bet that the room is full and people are waiting to see if they can get food, medical care and so on. The United States is on the same path that Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette took in the 18th century. We no longer use the guillotine, but I wonder what will happen when the peasants get really hungry?

Beauty All Around

This past weekend I had the opportunity to go up into the Frasier River Valley in Canada.  It was spectacular!  The mountains impressed me the most.  At times the tops of the mountains were shrouded in mist, and they seemed to be floating high above everything.  Then the mists dissolved in the sunlight, and the mountains showed their greenery.  It felt a bit like heaven. The foliage was equal to the setting, with trees painted gold and bronze in the midst of green Pine trees and bright red Sumac.  And of course the Frasier River was a constant companion.

We stopped for lunch and it was very tasty!

As we wound our way up the valley to our friends' house, we were high above the river.  We had been warned about the big slide, and it was a BIG slide.  We had one lane for about 1/4 mile, and it was winding road so we couldn't see the end..  Another car came through from the other side, which was a bit scary.  But we managed to squeeze past each other. I must say our driver was VERY good.

Once we got to our friends' house, we had a wonderful reunion and party, with excellent food.  Some of the guests I hadn't seen for some years.  That was a blessing.  Our hosts' home is just up the hill from the river, and it was lovely and peaceful.  The dog was happy to have so much attention.  She is quite sweet.

On the way home, I took lots of pictures.  It appeared to me to be even more beautiful than when we were going up the valley.  It was the release of tension that I needed.  Someday , I hope to go back up the Valley.

I Live in Beauty

I live in Whatcom County, Washington state.  That doesn't tell you why I love it so much.  My earliest memories are of Chicago - not the suburbs but the grit and dirt of the city itself.  At the time, I thought it was fine.  I hadn't known anything else.

When I was 12 we moved to Iowa, and I had a new perspective on Chicago.  Iowa at that time was full of cornfields and beef cows.  I also remember going to an experimental farm for raising buffalo.  And then I went to college in Iowa City.  I loved it there: it was peaceful, until just after the chaos of Kent State.  Then there were armed National Guards everywhere.

Then I went to Madison Wisconsin for grad school.  It was lovely too.  Then on to St. Louis Missouri for law school at Washington University.  That was beautiful - there was a large park nearby, and lots of green where my then husband and I lived and worked.

And then on to Seattle.  That was a big change.  Seattle in those days was not nearly as sophisticated as it is now.  But it was quite beautiful for a city.  I loved it there for a long time.  Then after about 14 years, I moved north to a 13 acre plot with lots of trees, chickens and horses.  That filled my heart for a long time.

Next I got a job in Olympia, the state capitol.  I lived just up a hill from the beach, next to a creek and was surrounded by trees.  That lasted four years.

I have a perspective from living in a variety of places.  When I tell you this is the most beautiful place I have ever lived, you know it is not hyperbole.

Whatcom County is truly beautiful.  There are lots of trees, hills, the Nooksack River, and Bellingham Bay.  I drive through the county often.  I live near the center of the county and my dad and I live about 20 miles from the biggest city: Bellingham.  It is green all the way into town.  Even in the "city" there are deer and other wildlife.  One of my friends lives on a plot that backs up to a green belt.  I have often seen does with their fawns in the spring, and once I saw a majestic six-point stag!  In the late summer the eagles gather on the Nooksack River to gorge on salmon.  My dad and were delighted when we saw hundreds of eagles.

We I live on an plot just shy of a half acre in a small town.  There are fruit trees and a pond.  The frog chorus is spectacular.  Mostly the people who live here are families with children.  It is a safe place.  I am looking forward to Halloween because the children are so fun to watch.  The little ones come early with a parent, and the older kids come a bit later.  It has been a long time since I've heard trick or treat from a small child.  It's fun!

One of my favorite sights is Mount Baker, majestic and clad in snow year round. There are legends about the mountain.  The natives in the area call the mountain Komo Kulshan. You can find the fascinating legend of Komo Kulshan here: http://home.online.no/~arnfin/native/lore/leg268.htm   The name means "White Steep Mountain."  From our home it is about a 1/2 drive to the National Forest, where one can see Komo Kulshan in the south and Mount Shukshan in the north.  The National Forest is in the middle, with spectacular views everywhere at any time of the year.

Truly, I believe this is heaven on earth.

The Blessing of "Aunties"

I was born in Alaska, and a native grandmother held me in church.  No one else could keep me quiet and content. She chewed the skins and made her last pair of mukluks for me.  I don't even know her name.  But I do know that she loved me.  And I know that we had a past life, in which I was her mother.  She checks in with me occasionally, and often smokes pipe with me.

 When I was two, my parents and I moved to Chicago, where I met Anna Esau.  I would crawl out of bed and totter downstairs to see Anna.  What I loved was that she adored me.  She didn't let me get away with anything, and at the same time she clearly loved me unconditionally.  I remember lots of laughter and cookies. 

One vivid memory is about my hair: it has always been very curly, and at the time, it was strawberry blond curls down to my lower back. People had so often told me my hair was pretty that I repeated it to others.  My mother was appalled and told me I shouldn't say such a thing.  But Anna Esau laughed and told Mom that I was just telling the truth.  I suspect the passersby were amused by it. 

When I was three, I had my tonsils out. I remember it clearly.  First, Mom and I went to the doctor, who took a blood sample.  Then we went to the hospital, and Anna was there.  She was an OR nurse.  I had to have a shot for pre-op. Now, when I was a year old, in Alaska, I had a serious infection and had to have shots.  I didn't like having the shots and wasn't going to let anyone do that to me again!  But . . . Anna was stronger than I, in will power even more than in physical strength.  She gave me the shot.  

She also took me into the OR and was there the whole time.  She helped me through the anesthesia process.  When I woke up I was in my hospital room with Anna right in my line of sight.

Anna had a friend, Freida, and Freida's father living in the apartment with her.  The elderly gentleman was an alcoholic.  Anna's response to that was to give him measured amounts of alcohol to drink - not enough to make him drunk but enough to keep him from painful withdrawal.  This man liked me, and he was also a carpenter.  He made me a toy chest.  It was quite beautiful.

Even when we  moved to a new apartment, Anna Esau was a part of my life.  She took Mom and me to an Estate Sale.  I spotted a beautiful little antique table, and I wanted it.  Anna had seen it too and had intended to buy it and take it home.  Instead, she bought it for me.  It was a long time before I recognized its value.  I was about forty years old when a friend who had worked at Sotheby's told me how valuable it was in money, though I already knew its value in love.

The last contact I had with Anna was a phone call.  It was surreal, partly because I had been asleep.  I had not heard from her in quite a while.  She asked about my parents, whether they were okay.  I told her they were.  Later, I found out they really weren't.  She knew.  My Dad told me that her mission was to keep families healthy - in many ways.  My parents were together for a while after that phone call, but finally they did divorce.  Both remarried.

I will never forget Miss Anna Esau: nurse extraordinaire; truth teller; lover of life; comforter of the little girl I once was.   

The Elders

I was born in Alaska, and a native grandmother held me in church.  No one else could keep me quiet and content. She chewed the skins and made her last pair of mukluks for me.  I don't even know her name.  But I do know that she loved me.  And I know that we had a past life, in which I was her mother.  She checks in with me occasionally, and often smokes pipe with me.

 When I was two, my parents and I moved to Chicago, where I met Anna Esau.  I would crawl out of bed and totter downstairs to see Anna.  What I loved was that she adored me.  She didn't let me get away with anything, and at the same time she clearly loved me unconditionally.  I remember lots of laughter and cookies. 

One vivid memory is about my hair: it has always been very curly, and at the time, it was strawberry blond curls down to my lower back. People had so often told me my hair was pretty that I repeated it to others.  My mother was appalled and told me I shouldn't say such a thing.  But Anna Esau laughed and told Mom that I was just telling the truth.  I suspect the passersby were amused by it. 

When I was three, I had my tonsils out. I remember it clearly.  First, Mom and I went to the doctor, who took a blood sample.  Then we went to the hospital, and Anna was there.  She was an OR nurse.  I had to have a shot for pre-op. Now, when I was a year old, in Alaska, I had a serious infection and had to have shots.  I didn't like having the shots and wasn't going to let anyone do that to me again!  But . . . Anna was stronger than I, in will power even more than in physical strength.  She gave me the shot.  

She also took me into the OR and was there the whole time.  She helped me through the anesthesia process.  When I woke up I was in my hospital room with Anna right in my line of sight.

Anna had a friend, Freida, and Freida's father living in the apartment with her.  The elderly gentleman was an alcoholic.  Anna's response to that was to give him measured amounts of alcohol to drink - not enough to make him drunk but enough to keep him from painful withdrawal.  This man liked me, and he was also a carpenter.  He made me a toy chest.  It was quite beautiful.

Even when we  moved to a new apartment, Anna Esau was a part of my life.  She took Mom and me to an Estate Sale.  I spotted a beautiful little antique table, and I wanted it.  Anna had seen it too and had intended to buy it and take it home.  Instead, she bought it for me.  It was a long time before I recognized its value.  I was about forty years old when a friend who had worked at Sotheby's told me how valuable it was in money, though I already knew its value in love.

The last contact I had with Anna was a phone call.  It was surreal, partly because I had been asleep.  I had not heard from her in quite a while.  She asked about my parents, whether they were okay.  I told her they were.  Later, I found out they really weren't.  She knew.  My Dad told me that part of her mission was to
keep families healthy - in many ways.  My parents were together for a while after that phone call, but finally they did divorce.  Both remarried.

I will never forget Miss Anna Esau: nurse extraordinaire; truth teller; lover of life; comforter of the little girl I once was.   

Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty

I have just finished reading a new book, called Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty.  The author, Neil Hanson, writes a poetic letter to his recently deceased father.  The eldest of three brothers,  Neil sits at his father's bedside in ICU as his father's heart gives out and he slips away.  The three agonize over whether to tell the hospital staff to resuscitate their father.  In the end they do agree not to take any heroic measures.

Neil says in the Afterword:

           We live in a nation and an era when we all want to know things for certain, and
           writing this story has helped me to this for the delusion it is.

           It is my sincere hope that reading this story might help some of those who
          consider themselves certain to receive the blessing of uncertainty.  I truly believe
          that it is only through humility, respect and tolerance for the views of others that I
          can approach Truth.  So long as I worship at the alter of certainty, Wisdom will be
          locked tightly away from me.

His view is mystical and practical at the same time.  It is clear that he learned from his experience of his father's passage through death to the other side.  It is also well worth our time to read what Neil Hanson wrote.

PAPERBACK GIVEAWAY (U.S. only)

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EBOOK GIVEAWAY (International)

Neil will giveaway a copy of the ebook version of the book (in the format of their choice) to EVERY person who leaves a comment on your review along with their email address during the month of September.

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Neil Hanson's Bio:
Neil Hanson lives and works in Colorado. Peace at the Edge of Uncertainty is his first book. He blogs actively and writes articles for periodicals. He is an avid outdoorsman, passionate about hunting and fishing. He spends a great deal of time bicycling the roads and trails of Colorado, and backcountry skiing in winter. His passion for gardening spills over into a joint venture with his oldest son, where they operate a landscaping and construction company in Colorado.

Spiders and Fruit Flies Oh My!

Hi all ~

This week I have been seeing lots of spiders spinning webs.  That's fine - I like to watch spiders.  Much worse are the fruit flies.  They breed so fast that it is difficult to get rid of them.  It doesn't help that they are not from this climate and there are virtually no predators of fruit flies.  Something has gone wrong in our food chain supply!

The spiders, though, signal that autumn is on its way, and the animal kingdom is getting ready for fall and winter.  I actually like spiders.  They are industrious and they help keep down the populations of flies and other pests.  Their webs are quite intricate and beautiful.

A few years ago, when I lived in a different place, I had to talk to a spider who had woven her web right where the outside faucet was.  I had to interrupt her web daily in order to water my plants.I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn't listen.  Seemed to me she could find lots of bugs in the garden and we could help each other.  But no, she was determined.

Now living in a house with my Dad, I see spiders all over the place, but only outside.  These spiders are helping with the balance, and I appreciate their work.  I just wish the fruit flies could be lunch for the spiders!

Moving into the Dark

A friend just asked me “What tools in your spiritual arsenal do you use to embrace the transformation of light into dark during this time of the year?  Are there habits, or traditions you use to transition yourself from the active growth of the summer and into the more introspective place of Winter?"  

As I thought about this question, I considered my childhood:  autumn brought relief from the heat of Chicago Summer.  I went back to school, which I sometimes enjoyed and sometimes hated, mostly depending on the teacher.  I spent more time reading, which I loved!  Winter with its dirty snow and ice wasn't so pretty in Chicago, but when we went to visit family in Wisconsin, it was often beautiful beyond measure.  My cousins lived in small towns and on farmland.  We made snowmen, and went ice skating.  I also loved the warmth of homemade comforters in an unheated second floor bedroom at my Grandmother's house. These days I seldom see my cousins, though I still sleep in an unheated room.

Both Summer and Winter are softer here in the Northwest, though the Summer days linger longer and the Winter is darker.  As Autumn approaches, I begin to feed the birds and the squirrels (though the squirrels don't seem to need feeding as much).

I give thanks for the harvest home, even though it mostly isn't my own handiwork.  I begin to read more and write more.  My writing group is more active and mostly everyone is at every meeting.  This is a change from sparse attendance in the Summer.  

Thanksgiving is on the cusp of late Fall into Winter, and I do give thanks for all the bounty I have received.  I celebrate the Solstices and Equinoxes with prayer and ceremony.  I pray with my pipe more often, and longer and more often sit in meditation.  It is a time for introspection and rejuvenation.  And certainly Christmas and Winter Solstice is a time for joy!

Already the air is softer and cooler.  It is beginning.  Rejoice.

Cousins by the Dozens

Today I talked to one of my cousins who I haven't seen for several decades.  I spent most of my childhood in Chicago, and my parents took me to Wisconsin frequently, at least once a year.  Since most of my cousins were there, I saw them regularly.  Both of my parents  have been living in the Midwest until my Dad came to Washington state a little over a year ago to share a house with me.  My parents have kept in touch much better than I have. 

Both of my parents came from large families.  Mom was one of 11, and Dad was one of 7.  Then three brothers from one family married three sisters from the other.  My Mom and Dad were the last of the three brothers and sisters to marry.  One of Dad's brothers had 10 children, and one of his sisters had 9.  Of all the families, only two had only children, and I am one of those.  But I counted 100 first cousins, including 8 double cousins.  All of us double cousins were fairly close, especially Maggie and me, the nearest in age.  We fought and played and loved each other.  I have lost Maggie's phone number, so if you read this, Maggie, please get in touch!

I called my cousin Joanne today, and we had a great time.  She just got back from a family reunion picnic in Iowa, and told me about next year's picnic in Wisconsin.  Hopefully, my Dad and I will be able to go.  I had such mixed feelings: I was happy to reconnect, and also sad for all I have missed through the years.  We all get so busy in our lives, and it is all too easy to lose our connections.

I remember how easy it was in the small town where my Dad grew up, and where my double cousins grew up.  We went down to the river and waded, and in the winter we went skating.  It is a resort town in the summer, and my cousins and I all worked in the family restaurants at some time or other.  Everyone knew we were Kimballs just by looking at us.  We would ask to get into attractions for free, and the ticket takers would ask which brother was our Dad.  They did let us in for free.

Today we also talked about one of my "double" cousins, who died in a car crash.  Living in a resort town in Wisconsin, at the end of the summer season, teenagers would drink and celebrate the close of the season.  My cousin Bill was drinking and driving during that weekend, crossed the center line and got hit by a truck.  Bill was such a gentle young man.  He often baby sat for us younger cousins, and was very caring.  When Maggie's mother died, Bill babysat all of his younger cousins.  He was always gentle, kind, and had a great sense of humor.

 Joanne also told me a story of when Bill was very young.  Uncles from both my Mom's and Dad's family owned a restaurant in Dalhart, Texas. This was near the end of WWII and somewhat after.  Segregation was still the norm.  The family didn't like it, but would lose their business if they went against the pattern of the time.  So the African-Americans, many of them soldiers, ate in the back room.  And Bill, even as young as he was, knew it was wrong.  And he treated them with great kindness.  I wish I had more time to know him.  He died too young!

I guess that is what my feelings were in the phone call.  Time slips away.  I made a promise to myself to keep in touch with family and friends. Joanne and I decided we must have a list of phone numbers and email.  We are too scattered and busy - so we need a reminder every so often.  We need our family.

Wasps in the House

Years ago I lived on a farm.  My bedroom had its own bath and an outside door.  I noticed that there was a wasp nest under the eave about six feet away from the door to my room.  So I made a contract with the wasps.  I asked that they stay out of the house, and not harm any of us humans or our animals.  I enjoyed watching the wasps that summer, and the only violation of the contract, even with my door almost always open, was a wasp that got lost.  The lonely wasp went out the door when I pointed the way.

Since then I hadn't really need to deal with wasps.  Until this week.  The wasps have found a way into the living room.  But then they want to get out, because they can't find any food, water or comfort. Generally wasps will stay out of the house - unless they have a nest in the walls, which I think is what we have.

Wasps, although annoying, should be thought of as beneficial insects.  They prey mainly on other insects, many of which are pests. In general, they avoid human activity and should only be considered a nuisance when nesting near homes or high traffic areas.  
http://eartheasy.com/live_natwasp_control.htm

I have been carrying them out, and they seem relieved to be outdoors, but wasps are still coming in.  And, I truly don't want to kill the wasps. I will have to find a way without chemicals and hopefully not killing the wasps.

This all reminds me of the song All God's Creatures Got a Place in the Choir:

By Bill Staines

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

Listen to the bass, it's the one on the bottom
Where the bullfrog croaks and the hippopotamus
Moans and groans with a big to-do
The old cow just goes MOOOOO

The dog and the cat pick up the middle
While the honey bee hums and the cricket fiddles
The donkey brays and the pony neighs
And the old coyote howls

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

Listen to the top where the little birds sing
On the melody with the high note ringing
The hoot owl hollers over everything
And the jaybird disagrees

Singin' in the night-time, singin' in the day
Little duck quacks, and he's on his way
The possum ain't got much to say
And the porcupine talks to himself

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

It's a simple song of livin' sung everywhere
By the ox and the fox and the grizzly bear
Grumpy alligator and the hawks above
Sly raccoon and the turtle dove.

All God's critters got a place in the choir
Some sing low, some sing higher
Some sing out loud on the telephone wire
And some just clap their hands, or paws
Or anything they got.

Climate Change and the Clean Air Act

I would guess that there are people in these United States who know little or nothing about the Clean Air Act.  It was the subject of a Note (meaning an 80 page article with footnotes!) I wrote when I was in law school  35 years ago.  The original Clean Air Act set standards for particulates and other contaminates in cities and areas where the air was clearly harming humans, crops, and more.  The amendment I wrote about required that the smog could not be spread out into pristine areas, such as National Parks, as a way of keeping the air clean in places where it hadn't been.

A short while ago, just on the cusp of the Summer Solstice, the conservative Supreme Court stated by a narrow margin that climate change can be controlled by the Environmental Protection Agency via the Clean Air Act.  This is really huge. Just five years ago, Chief Justice Roberts and Justice Scalia were two of the four justices that dissented on the same issue.  Now they have completely changed their position.

The scientists, by and large, now agree that climate change is a reality, and that we need to take action to moderate the change.  Whether we like it or not, it is now a fact on this lovely planet.  So . . . buy an electric car (I really would love to buy a Tesla!) or a hybrid, turn off the lights when you leave a room, buy CFL bulbs, use the cleanest energy you can manage, and conserve, conserve, conserve!

Bowser the cat

Bowser the cat came to me from a couple who were getting more and more allergic to cat hair.  Bowser does have a thick, beautiful coat of hair.  He was terrified when he came to me.  The first thing he did was to crawl into the cupboard under the bathroom sink.  Of course I let him stay there as long as he chose.  After a few days he spent most of the time out of the cupboard.  It has taken a while, but he trusts me implicitly these days.

He came to me at 12 years old with declawed front paws.  The people who Bowser lived with before me told me he had "escaped" from the house and was gone for 6 months.  He had been about 18 pounds when he left and came back at 12 pounds.  I don't know how he stayed alive for all that time, or how he found his way home.

Bowser and I lived in a small apartment for several years.  He once got out into the hallway, but was totally frightened by a fierce female cat in the apartment next door.  After that he did not even attempt to go out of my apartment.

But for the past year, we have lived in a house with a large yard and a fenced in patio.  Bowser desperately wanted to go out beyond the fence, and he did escape several times.  Then, more recently, he came home with a bite that turned into and abscess before I even realized he'd been bitten.  The vet bill was more than I wanted to pay, but . . . the Bowser was worth it. The vet said he was a real gentleman, and everyone there liked him.  I'd say he one of the sweetest cats I've known.

Now Bowser still wants to go out of the fenced patio, but I am not willing for him to get hurt again.  For one thing, I would be sad if he hurts, and I don't have money for vet bills either.  Of course Bowser doesn't have any concept of  money.

Perhaps the most important thing is that Bowser and I are bonded to each other.  It took a long time, but he realized that he is safe with me and my Dad.  He trusts me implicitly.  And I love him dearly.  As with most family pets, there will be a time when Bowser dies.  Actually, fairly soon because he is about 16 years old.  For now, I just love him.

A Dog's Life – and Death

My dearly loved dog Shama was two feet tall, 100 pounds of muscle, and fiercely protective, yet she charmed almost everyone she met.  Her best dog friend Coco lived with my friend Lu (whom Shama also adored).  The two dogs ate from the same dish and slept on the same bed.  When circumstances led to Coco coming to the farm for an extended visit, Coco missed her "Mom," but generally was an outgoing and happy dog. 

Then one day I found Shama lying on the floor under the kitchen table whining.  I work with devas and nature spirits regularly, so I connected with them and asked if they could help her.  They indicated they would.  In fact, she had already ceased her quiet whimpering.  They also said no to my inquiry about taking her to the vet.  I talked to a friend who also communicates with animals, and she thought that Shama would be all right.

But by afternoon, Shama's belly was distended and hot, and the vet told me over the phone that expensive surgery was not likely to help.  Soon,  Lu arrived, and Shama laboriously got off the bed and went to her, leaning her massive head against her friend's legs.  Before long, I heard Shama'a death rattle and in minutes she was gone.  I later learned that Shama had gone to the astral plane, where a Native American teacher told her that her work with me was finished.  She was given a choice to stay with me for a brief time, for love, or take on a new job.  She decided to take on a new task.

We did ceremonial pipe over her body, and I heard my teacher in that lineage, Sun Bear, who was already on the other side, laugh at me and say "She's my medicine dog now!"  A friend who was present saw the same teacher, with Shama on one side and his long time companion Samoyed, Shasta, on the other.  Shama had not gone through the bardo, but went right from here to there, accompanied by Shasta. 

Lu made the decision that Coco would stay with me permanently.  For several years, she was my almost constant companion.  No one could replace Shama, yet Coco and I became good friends.  She was already fourteen when she came to me, and beginning to have aches and pains.  I began to talk to her about her choices.  She never understood "death."  When she finally had a severe problem that required surgery, I made the decision for euthanasia.  The vet was very gentle, yet I was devastated.  I knew she was fine – I felt her reach the light, and even heard her comical domination of the much bigger Shama.  She scolded in her sharp Aussie voice, "You didn't tell me where you were going, and I couldn't find you!"

I told my guides I needed a time out and wasn't willing to help any more animals cross over for a long time.  Not only Shama and Coco, but also two friends' dogs, a cat, two horses, a snake, and my own long time cat friend had needed my help within a ten year span.

Then I met Polly and Zoe.  Polly works with animal communication and Reiki, and Zoe was her service dog.  Zoe reminded me in many ways of Coco.  Zoe related to me very gently – licking my hand at one point – yet maintaining a slight but noticeable distance.  In talking to Polly about it, something shifted in me.  Zoe rolled over, exposing her belly and begging for petting and hugging.

Not long after, I met Thomas and his dog Jenny.  Thomas asked if I would create a flower essence blend for him and for Jenny, who had been having seizures.  The seizures had stopped, but she was very weak and lethargic.  Thomas was extremely distraught.

I found that Jenny was ready to die, but was waiting for Thomas to accept it.  The flower essence combination for Jenny was to assist after a paradigm shift – I knew she had already made the transition.  Thomas himself needed a calming essence and one for receptivity.

Also, my friend Shama, who still is definitely a medicine dog, came to me very strongly.  She said she would keep very close to Jenny through this, and take her to the other side when it was time.  Helping other animals who were getting ready to die was her new job.

There was a big gift in this work with Jenny that I did not even recognize at first because it was so obvious.

About 12 years prior a good friend's dog had an inoperable tumor on her pancreas.  She was having seizures 1 to 3 times a day.  Because my friend was too close to the situation to get clear, I often tuned in for her to see what was needed.  The family had long planned a complicated two week vacation with two other families – one of whom had non-refundable airline tickets.  So I dog sat while they were away.

The dog taught me a great deal about allowing – it was her life after all – and not being attached to the outcome.  She had refused to eat until I agreed with this principle, and then she began eating again.  Her family's return date was loose, the hour totally unknown.  But one a day near the date they were due to arrive, she was eager and excited all day.  Finally she insisted on going out front, where we sat on the porch for about 10 minutes until the car drove up.  A week later I was present when she died in her person's arms.  She was the first animal I supported while she was preparing for death.

Her name was Jenny.

Spirit had gently reminded me this was a part of my work and I really could not refuse to do it. 

When Polly asked me why I was taking Coco's death so hard, I realized that it wasn't about the animals.  Though I grieved, I could see them on the other side, and I KNEW they were fine. 

What it was about was stuck feelings/energy from childhood.   During an intense crisis at about age 10, I actually died, and went through the tunnel into the light.  It was so beautiful.  And what I was going through at the time was so horrendous, that I wanted desperately to stay.  But I was told, gently and clearly, that I had work to do, and a long and fruitful life ahead of me. 

Although I had healed much of the trauma around the cause of my near death, I had not processed the feelings and the energy around the death experience itself.  When I worked with animals who died, I saw them reach the light and longed for it myself.  It was too difficult, wanting to be there myself, to help animals reach their destination!

Finally, I have released that as well.  My work of communicating with Spirit and with Nature includes talking to animals, making flower and crystal essences for them, and sometimes helping them and their companions to prepare for their death.  Life is mostly joyful these days, and I am quite happy living my life until it's my time to go to the light.

Check out my web site at www.dragonflyessence.com, or call at (360) 789-9599, or email jackie@dragonflyessence.com.   I am a flower and crystal essence practitioner as well as energy healer (humans and animals) and animal communicator.  I also sells flower and crystal essences and combine them with aromatherapy in sprays.

Teachers in my Life

I was listening to some music that I hadn’t heard in a while: Odetta, Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, and OhShinnah Fastwolf.  As I listened, I realized that each of these persons have had a profound effect on me.  Two of them, Odetta and Israel, are no longer alive in a physical body, and OhShinnah is not teaching or singing these days.  Fortunately their music lives on.

There are others who helped to shape who I am: my parents, of course.  And Anna Esau was an early mentor.  She was a nurse who lived in an apartment downstairs from ours, and she adored me and I her.  We laughed a lot.  She gave me a sureness about who I am.  For example, when I was little, I had red-gold long ringlets.  People often commented on my hair.  So, as a 3 year old, I asked people if they thought my hair was pretty.  My Mother was embarrassed, but Aunty Esau just laughed and said I was just being truthful.  I learned that what some people called a “faux pas” could just be sheer fun!

She was also the one who got me through the tonsillectomy around the same time.  I had had some trauma with needles before I was a year old, and needles scared me.  Aunty was the only one who could get me to stay still for the shot.  Aunty, being a surgical nurse, was also in the OR with me, and was there when I woke.  I learned to do what was necessary even if  it wasn’t easy.

My seventh grade teacher was a gem.  He noticed that I was shy.  I decided to sing in a music competition at my school.  I wasn’t able to hit high notes, and my teacher told me I had a beautiful voice.  He told me never to let anyone tell me to sing in a key that was too high.  I understood that what he said went way beyond singing.  He was talking about my life.  He helped me to know that I was fine just as I am.

In high school, I had a wonderful English teacher.  I participated in speech contests at the State level, largely because my teacher encouraged me, and later I had a lead role in the school play.  I realized that I had talents, and that it was fine to use them.

Much more recently I had the privilege of being adopted by a respected native elder.  She told me to never let anyone influence me to be other than I who I am.

Perhaps you see a pattern here – many teachers have taught me to respect who I am; to be exactly the best me I can be.  They taught me to become my Self.  What a gift for anyone to give.  I am truly grateful.

Bird's Eye View

I enjoy feeding the birds.  They sometimes fight for the food, and just as often take their turns. Yesterday, I saw a finch trying against the wind to fly to the bird feeder.  So when she left, I scattered some seed on the porch underneath the feeder. A few of the smaller birds fed on this gift. But what was more amusing was watching the resident squirrel carefully picking up one seed at a time and eating.

Last year I fed suet to the birds in the Vine Maple tree outside my apartment, and seeds in a small feeder hanging in the window.  One day I was stunned when I looked out my window to the tree.  There was a very large bird sitting in the tree looking right at me. It was side-wise to me, and then turned face on. It had a long slightly curved beak, and a very long tail.  I could hear it say "Where is food for me?"  Of course this bird couldn't get its large body into a position to eat from either feeder. And it really needed fish.  I admired the bird, and told it I didn't have a way to feed it. 

Later I discovered it was a juvenile cormorant.  That in itself is unusual - cormorants usually live on the coastal water islands, and I lived miles from the coast.  I identified it as a Double-crested Cormorant, both by its looks and by the fact that it was inland.  This is the only cormorant that nests inland in the West.  Still, it was unusual.  There were no lakes or even ponds nearby, though there were some within flying distance.

This year I have seen some birds I had not seen before: Red Wing Blackbirds and a Varied Thrush.  And a number of old friends come to my feeder: a mating pair of Flickers, a number of Stellar Jays, and lots of finches, sparrows, juncos and chickadees. 

There are some birds I see less often since I moved.  I used to see Turkey Buzzards fairly often.  But they don't come into town, and are less present along the roads I now use.  I suspect they don't find the food the like as easily in a more suburban setting.  I still see hawks and eagles, but not as often.  Where I lived previously I could look out my window and see eagles flying.  There were nests in several places not far from my home.

My next project?  A hummingbird feeder!

Dragonflies

This morning I had a deep insight.  I remembered an dear friend who was also my astrologer.  She was highly intuitive, and made some predictions that came true long afterward.  One of the things she told me was that a particular time I would experience what my life work would be. 

At the time she had indicated, I had some unusual experiences.  First, I wanted to connect with friend who lived in a trailer in the midst of dense woods.  I could have driven my car around the woods and taken a path to his home.  But I didn't.  Instead I set off in a straight line through the woods.  Of course, it was difficult and full of brambles.  Finally, I gave up and went back to the road.  Just as I got there, my friend drove up to where I was standing. 

I got into the car and we set off to a small, nearby lake.  At the lake, we sat down on a wooden pier and talked.  There were lots of dragonflies, not an unusual for a hot summer day at the lake.  What was unusual was that a pair of dragonflies landed on my knee.  They stayed there for about 15 minutes as we talked.

Eventually we got up and my friend took me to my car.  Our friendship continued through the years.  As long distance friendships go, we sometimes saw each other more frequently, and sometimes less.  I always
remembered that magical day.

Many years later I began a business.  As I was making decisions, I thought about what I should call my business.  I tried on a number of names, but none really fit.  Finally I happened on Dragonfly.  Since my business was largely about healing, magic, and flower essences, I settled on Dragonfly Essence.

Only today, after nine years in business, did I remember that day at the lake with my friend.  He died some years ago, and so did my astrologer friend.  I honor them both.  Both had profound and wonderful impacts on my life and work. 

Second Chance

I recently finished reading a wonderful book, Second Chance, about a boy and a dog who were both adopted.  Sandra J. Gerencher is the author, and the book has just been published.  The book is delightful, and it would be a wonderful book for a family to read together.  I won't give it all away, but the boy is autistic, and both boy and dog are adopted.  I enjoyed it immensely.

One of the best things about this book is anyone of any age will take pleasure in the story.  Because of the subject, it is a valuable resource for adoptive parents and for parents of autistic parents. The story and the writing are upbeat while still including some of the inevitable challenges. Sandra has a winner as far as I am concerned! 

 She is a special education teacher in the Bangor Area public school
system. Prior to becoming a teacher, she worked at Lehigh University in a school-based program, as a Program Specialist for adults with disabilities. Over the past 20 years she has worked with children and adults with special needs in such areas as counseling, Behavior Specialist Consultation, behavioral research, crisis intervention and abuse therapy. Sandra graduated from Lehigh University with a M.Ed. in Special Education (2004) and from Chestnut Hill College in Philadelphia with an M.S. in Counseling Psychology (1999).



The book is a PBS Kids Recommended title:
http://pbskids.org/itsmylife/family/adoption/print_books.html 

Go here for an excerpt:
http://www.freado.com/read/8704/second-chance-how-adoption-saved-a-boy-with-autism-his-shelter-dog

 You can buy the book at http://www.tribute-books.com/shop.html#children6

Losing Your Only

I have just finished reading a book called Losing Your Only, written by Dr. Debi Yohn, Levi’s Mom.  Levi was her only child, and he died in a horrible car accident when he was twenty.  This is a very personal story, which helped Dr. Yohn discover her purpose - to motivate and support parents and others to live life to their highest potential. She puts all of her skill and experience into this wonderful book.  It is personal, and it is therapeutic.  It is lovingly and beautifully written.  For example:    
Before Levi passed, I had a textbook understanding of sadness, depression, and grief that I'd acquired from my doctorate in counseling psychology.  But my life experience has brought a new dimension to my knowledge.  That is why I am writing this book.  I hope my journey can help others with their grief, or at least help understand the intensity of the grief process that follows the loss of an only child.   

This book is particularly helpful for parents of only children who  have died, yet it is useful for anyone who has experienced the death of a beloved.  In fact it is for all of us, because no one escapes without facing the loss of a beloved at some time. I highly recommend Losing Your Only.                      

The digital version of the book is currently available at  http://losingyouronly.com/get-the-book/.  If you would like to be notified about the upcoming print and audio release, please visit http://losingyouronly.com/get-the-book/ and send Dr. Debi your email address.

 

Dr. Debi Yohn is an international psychologist, author and speaker with 32 years experience living and working on 3 continents.  She currently live in Huatulco, Mexico and travels the world working with her clients, writing and diversified business and charitable interests. To read Dr. Debi's full bio, visit http://bookpromotionservices.com/2010/12/02/dr-debi-yohn-biography/