There is simply too much posted on Fb about the corrupt president. Everyone knows he is the destroyer of anything with which he comes in contact. People do not realize how this continual negativity affects their bodymind. I know, I know, we are all frustrated with government.
How about we turn that around and call all the reps/senators and vent to them? Tell them they need to start job hunting because the citizens will vote them out. Explain what you want changed and write it down before you call. Use your speech well.
I was recently listening to an NPR broadcast on our increased expectations. With everything. That we go on and on and on about a particular subject. In particular, they were talking about the way parents handle their children. That they set up 'play dates' with an expectation of certain behaviors/outcomes occuring.
"Well, she didn't socialize much."
"It was all so very disappointing."
Do consider that these children are two and three years old. They are just learning to socialize. This takes time. We don't need daily report cards or an analysis of their minute by minute behavior. We look at trends, adjust where need and just love and enjoy them. These years pass quickly.
You know what they say about all work and no play.
Tuesday, January 15, 2019
Sunday, January 13, 2019
Older Women
"When I told my friends I was writing a book on older women like us, they immediately protested, “I am not old.” What they meant was that they didn’t act or feel like the cultural stereotypes of women their age. Old meant bossy, useless, unhappy and in the way. Our country’s ideas about old women are so toxic that almost no one, no matter her age, will admit she is old."
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/12/opinion/sunday/women-older-happiness.html?smid=fb-nytopinion&smtyp=cur&fbclid=IwAR20Wgooa4l7ZEvAL2TWmitLakjnQq8KGfFN-gRIg5BFzN063nuZghkVJRQ
https://www.nytimes.com/2019/01/12/opinion/sunday/women-older-happiness.html?smid=fb-nytopinion&smtyp=cur&fbclid=IwAR20Wgooa4l7ZEvAL2TWmitLakjnQq8KGfFN-gRIg5BFzN063nuZghkVJRQ
Thursday, January 10, 2019
Synchronicity
Nearly everyone is experiencing it. Synchronicity. Some believe it started this past week for them. Others say it is ongoing. Something is in the air.
Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have the eyes to see. — Carl Jung
We know that everything is connected. Even Trump stealing the election had to happen. It had to happen to make people wake up. Stand up and change things.
For myself, I've had lots of deja vu along with synchronicities. What happens for me is that time stands still. Total silence. It is as if my bodymind can't move further until the thought is validated and remembered.
"Oh, yeah."
Sometimes they are separate events but lately they are intertwined. But everything is anyway.
That Michael Cohen will be testifying before Congress soon is a part of all of this. It is shades of Watergate. I don't think this will be an isolated event. I think Mueller is just beginning.
Everything experiences a correction when things are out of balance. The little messages - the deja vu, increase in synchronicities remind us to pay attention. It is reminiscent of seeing the deer outside my atrium door recently. Deer are gentle beings. They remind us to be determined and certain even in difficult situations.
A neighbor said she saw a three legged deer the other day. Three legs. Yet it is still strong, determined and enduring what could have been a rough situation. It keeps going. Just as we will keep going.
Synchronicity happens for a reason. It moves us toward a healthier direction. It opens our eyes.
Synchronicity is an ever present reality for those who have the eyes to see. — Carl Jung
We know that everything is connected. Even Trump stealing the election had to happen. It had to happen to make people wake up. Stand up and change things.
For myself, I've had lots of deja vu along with synchronicities. What happens for me is that time stands still. Total silence. It is as if my bodymind can't move further until the thought is validated and remembered.
"Oh, yeah."
Sometimes they are separate events but lately they are intertwined. But everything is anyway.
That Michael Cohen will be testifying before Congress soon is a part of all of this. It is shades of Watergate. I don't think this will be an isolated event. I think Mueller is just beginning.
Everything experiences a correction when things are out of balance. The little messages - the deja vu, increase in synchronicities remind us to pay attention. It is reminiscent of seeing the deer outside my atrium door recently. Deer are gentle beings. They remind us to be determined and certain even in difficult situations.
A neighbor said she saw a three legged deer the other day. Three legs. Yet it is still strong, determined and enduring what could have been a rough situation. It keeps going. Just as we will keep going.
Synchronicity happens for a reason. It moves us toward a healthier direction. It opens our eyes.
Friday, September 7, 2018
Life Among The Weirs?
It was early morning. I had gotten to the massage therapist a half hour early. I'd been across town seeing the chiropractor, a new one for me. With all the road construction, I took backroads and didn't want to be late.
With a a temperature in the upper fifties, the salt air called me. Across the sandy, broken parking lot as Maine winters often do, a slice of grass, another parking lot in better repair and there it was. Casco Bay. Seagulls were everywhere enjoying the thermals as a noticeable breeze provided them an easy flight.
Two grizzly looking men in their late forties were talking. The one in the green truck looked about the parking lot. His eyes never left me. The other man, also in jeans leaned into the truck on the driver's side. He also watched me.
I walked toward the marina and heard it. I could hear the engine running from the well used sedan from the late 70s. As I passed the faded blue sedan with dents abounding, it was evident that there was no one inside.
Then it occurred to me. Was this a drug dealing going on?
With a a temperature in the upper fifties, the salt air called me. Across the sandy, broken parking lot as Maine winters often do, a slice of grass, another parking lot in better repair and there it was. Casco Bay. Seagulls were everywhere enjoying the thermals as a noticeable breeze provided them an easy flight.
Two grizzly looking men in their late forties were talking. The one in the green truck looked about the parking lot. His eyes never left me. The other man, also in jeans leaned into the truck on the driver's side. He also watched me.
I walked toward the marina and heard it. I could hear the engine running from the well used sedan from the late 70s. As I passed the faded blue sedan with dents abounding, it was evident that there was no one inside.
Then it occurred to me. Was this a drug dealing going on?
Thursday, August 30, 2018
Running The AT?
The Appalachian Trail is a 2,200 mile journey over mountains, roads, towns and farmland. Historically, it has become a mindful journey. A long and challenging walk through yourself.
While it is a hike through some of the most beautiful land on the eastern coast, it also has its challenges. Black bear, poisonous snakes, insect bites, rough terrain, mosquitoes, and poison ivy. Among other not so healthly experiences, the mind also has its own journey.
You mostly walk with self, often accompanied by other thru-hikers. But you do the bulk of the trail work inside yourself. That can include climbing over fallen trees, rocks, streams. It also includes working out your head stuff.
Like so many things so simplistic for the gifts they offer, walking the trail has become a sort of record thing. Speed Like Ms. Pharr who ran the 2,200 miles meeting her husband nightly with food and supplies. Or the recent person who beat her journey. Now the Belgian dentist, Karel Sabbe, has topped Ms. Pharr's record. Most of the thru-hikers carry their own packs. They have designed restocking sites. There is no time clock other than the weather.
I wonder if we now should be measuring the JOY one has in completing a task, walking the walk. Maybe it is time to compete to see who grows more academically, emotionally, is in better shape than their counterparts.
I thought the measurement, if there is one, was to be inner growth. It wasn't about bragging rights, appearing in recreational magazines. Here is what was written about the experience:
"Hiking the trail is not just a physical accomplishment; it’s transformative in other ways as well. Hikers’ experiences of rebirth are not merely figurative and don’t always disappear after the hike is over. Some feel they’re communing with God while on the trail; for others, it restores their faith in humanity. Because hikers are away from family, friends, and significant others for weeks or months at a time, they must trust and rally behind one another. More than one romantic relationship and countless friendships have started on the trail and continued once the hike is over. The trail has its “sacred sites” — not only gatherings like Trail Days but also the shelters, camping areas, and towns along the way, where hikers laugh, dance, and tell stories of adventures, of hiker traditions, of trail magic, and of the heroes and legends that have grown up around the arduous walk. It also has its sacred texts, in the form of guidebooks and shelter journals, which hikers sign upon arrival at each outpost, debating philosophy, telling jokes, letting others know about “unfriendlies” in the area, working through their own inner struggles, and inspiring those whose energy is flagging. Many are at a crossroads in life and are searching for answers, and their fellow travelers or the trail itself eventually provide them, though the revelations do not come quickly or easily."
https://www.bostonglobe.com/magazine/2015/09/09/inside-mind-appalachian-trail-hiker/HZQS53jPKcj6wirW2Ll0LM/story.html
Remind me again, what kind of 'trail magic' you are getting when you run the AT?
While it is a hike through some of the most beautiful land on the eastern coast, it also has its challenges. Black bear, poisonous snakes, insect bites, rough terrain, mosquitoes, and poison ivy. Among other not so healthly experiences, the mind also has its own journey.
You mostly walk with self, often accompanied by other thru-hikers. But you do the bulk of the trail work inside yourself. That can include climbing over fallen trees, rocks, streams. It also includes working out your head stuff.
Like so many things so simplistic for the gifts they offer, walking the trail has become a sort of record thing. Speed Like Ms. Pharr who ran the 2,200 miles meeting her husband nightly with food and supplies. Or the recent person who beat her journey. Now the Belgian dentist, Karel Sabbe, has topped Ms. Pharr's record. Most of the thru-hikers carry their own packs. They have designed restocking sites. There is no time clock other than the weather.
I wonder if we now should be measuring the JOY one has in completing a task, walking the walk. Maybe it is time to compete to see who grows more academically, emotionally, is in better shape than their counterparts.
I thought the measurement, if there is one, was to be inner growth. It wasn't about bragging rights, appearing in recreational magazines. Here is what was written about the experience:
"Hiking the trail is not just a physical accomplishment; it’s transformative in other ways as well. Hikers’ experiences of rebirth are not merely figurative and don’t always disappear after the hike is over. Some feel they’re communing with God while on the trail; for others, it restores their faith in humanity. Because hikers are away from family, friends, and significant others for weeks or months at a time, they must trust and rally behind one another. More than one romantic relationship and countless friendships have started on the trail and continued once the hike is over. The trail has its “sacred sites” — not only gatherings like Trail Days but also the shelters, camping areas, and towns along the way, where hikers laugh, dance, and tell stories of adventures, of hiker traditions, of trail magic, and of the heroes and legends that have grown up around the arduous walk. It also has its sacred texts, in the form of guidebooks and shelter journals, which hikers sign upon arrival at each outpost, debating philosophy, telling jokes, letting others know about “unfriendlies” in the area, working through their own inner struggles, and inspiring those whose energy is flagging. Many are at a crossroads in life and are searching for answers, and their fellow travelers or the trail itself eventually provide them, though the revelations do not come quickly or easily."
https://www.bostonglobe.com/magazine/2015/09/09/inside-mind-appalachian-trail-hiker/HZQS53jPKcj6wirW2Ll0LM/story.html
Remind me again, what kind of 'trail magic' you are getting when you run the AT?
Sunday, August 26, 2018
A Churchie For A Day
This morning I decided to explore my area more. There is a church in town that has a pretty open orientation to belief systems. this isn't my first visit to this denoination. I went to a Unitarian church in elementary school. My mother seemed to think she should expose us to 'religion.' And so we were exposed.
My first memories about this church was that I had to awaken too early on Sunday mornings. It was a long drive to Baltimore city, some forty minutes or so. I was usually sick in the stomach both from the long drive and mom's incessant smoking.
It was a large and magnificent building called the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore. I remember asking my mom how they knew to make it the first? Did they anticipate others?
Sometimes my brother and I sat in the adult church service. Other times we went to the children's Sunday school. I did like the Sunday school and I really liked the teachers. Plus, the refreshments afterward were bountiful.
Not much for 'organized' religion, I thought the Unitarians deserved another try. Besides, I may meet people in my small community. The grounds for the church were large, with every kind of northern wildflower you might imagine. I was perplexed to figure out which building of the two was the sanctuary. I was early so there wasn't a soul outside to ask. Then I saw the sign eclipsed bya low branched group of trees:
SANCTUARY
OFFICE
The inside of the church was non-descript. No icons, no religious material, just nice veiling beams and an openness to it.
Almost immediately, I was welcomed by a Buddhist woman who was the official 'greeter.' After a short walk into the open space, another woman announced that there is no minister during the summer. A recording of music by Peter was played on the screen along with the lyrics. That lay people lead the service.
Earlier I had googled the website to learn the talk would be on COSMOLOGY. Not much of a follower of that, I thought at least the question and answer period would be interested. as an experiencer, you can imagine the myriad of questions I had. This is going to be fun, I thought. Instead, she read from a prepared text, rarely looking up at her audience. Then she invited us to come up to her alter for some star dust and a sip of tea.
"Star dust?"
I was more than intrigued. I quickly cued in only to find some glitter doused into my left palm. The rest of the service I spent trying to remove it. I was afraid I might be tatooed for life. Worst, I had been lied to! I thought, hoped that NASA might share some of this for the greater good.
The tea cups were about the size one might enjoy for a child's tea party. One teaspoon of tea was barely evident in each cup and I was careful not to consume before the 'unity gathering' officially took place. I sure didn't want my sipping to exclude anyone.
Maybe I'll wait til the fall when the interim minister returns. I may just get a better sense of the church. Or not.
My first memories about this church was that I had to awaken too early on Sunday mornings. It was a long drive to Baltimore city, some forty minutes or so. I was usually sick in the stomach both from the long drive and mom's incessant smoking.
It was a large and magnificent building called the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore. I remember asking my mom how they knew to make it the first? Did they anticipate others?
Sometimes my brother and I sat in the adult church service. Other times we went to the children's Sunday school. I did like the Sunday school and I really liked the teachers. Plus, the refreshments afterward were bountiful.
Not much for 'organized' religion, I thought the Unitarians deserved another try. Besides, I may meet people in my small community. The grounds for the church were large, with every kind of northern wildflower you might imagine. I was perplexed to figure out which building of the two was the sanctuary. I was early so there wasn't a soul outside to ask. Then I saw the sign eclipsed bya low branched group of trees:
SANCTUARY
OFFICE
The inside of the church was non-descript. No icons, no religious material, just nice veiling beams and an openness to it.
Almost immediately, I was welcomed by a Buddhist woman who was the official 'greeter.' After a short walk into the open space, another woman announced that there is no minister during the summer. A recording of music by Peter was played on the screen along with the lyrics. That lay people lead the service.
Earlier I had googled the website to learn the talk would be on COSMOLOGY. Not much of a follower of that, I thought at least the question and answer period would be interested. as an experiencer, you can imagine the myriad of questions I had. This is going to be fun, I thought. Instead, she read from a prepared text, rarely looking up at her audience. Then she invited us to come up to her alter for some star dust and a sip of tea.
"Star dust?"
I was more than intrigued. I quickly cued in only to find some glitter doused into my left palm. The rest of the service I spent trying to remove it. I was afraid I might be tatooed for life. Worst, I had been lied to! I thought, hoped that NASA might share some of this for the greater good.
The tea cups were about the size one might enjoy for a child's tea party. One teaspoon of tea was barely evident in each cup and I was careful not to consume before the 'unity gathering' officially took place. I sure didn't want my sipping to exclude anyone.
Maybe I'll wait til the fall when the interim minister returns. I may just get a better sense of the church. Or not.
Friday, August 24, 2018
Maine, Minerals And Me
It's a lovely day in southern Maine. I just got off the phone from a friend in the southern town in western Carolina where I lived for years. My friend calls with a report on how things look from my home exterior. A trained naturalist, the friend just returned from Maine. We spoke about areas we both love to visit.
It's the little things in life that are so endearing. A phone call from a distant friend, distant only in geography. Good friends are never far away. They ensure you know that by checking in. I still keep up with friends from elementary school.
Soon the pressure washer fellow will arrive. Then the fellow who will repair things damaged in the move. When my favorite teal glass lamp is repaired, a new coastal style white shutter chest will arrive a week or so later. The teal lamp with a new shade will really spruce up the room. Then I will have a coastal painting reframed. Did I already tell you this in an earlier blog? If so, just know I have a lot going on. <giggles> Of course, all of this will take a few more weeks. Especially, getting into the cue for the repairs. Apparently, now they send out an estimator. Then find a repair person, furniture cleaner, etc.
The twig table as well as the lamp will probably need to be taken to the repair shop for a week. I can't wait to get them back and to use them. Yes, more weeks to wait.
While all of that is in the cue, I await my feathery flock of friends.
The birds haven't visited the bird feeder yet. It may take a few weeks. Last night I put out my four solar lights near the boundary of my land and the preserve. Soon, I will put out the trail camera to see what visits in the night. I can't wait to see what is out and about in the wee hours.
Land is a curious thing. We are all just passing through it. I like living on it gently. Doing no harm.
Did you know that in Maine, mineral rights to land automatically convey with the land? They don't out west. I found after an extensive google search, this information was not readily available. But then, that isn't odd is it? Especially in a country that values energy and capitalism over people.
Maine has a unique value of the land and of its people. They really are leaders in the environmental movement. I really shouldn't call it a movement because it has always been a way of life for them. Maine keeps it simple.
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"I am."
"I am, who?"
"I am a Mainer."
It's the little things in life that are so endearing. A phone call from a distant friend, distant only in geography. Good friends are never far away. They ensure you know that by checking in. I still keep up with friends from elementary school.
Soon the pressure washer fellow will arrive. Then the fellow who will repair things damaged in the move. When my favorite teal glass lamp is repaired, a new coastal style white shutter chest will arrive a week or so later. The teal lamp with a new shade will really spruce up the room. Then I will have a coastal painting reframed. Did I already tell you this in an earlier blog? If so, just know I have a lot going on. <giggles> Of course, all of this will take a few more weeks. Especially, getting into the cue for the repairs. Apparently, now they send out an estimator. Then find a repair person, furniture cleaner, etc.
The twig table as well as the lamp will probably need to be taken to the repair shop for a week. I can't wait to get them back and to use them. Yes, more weeks to wait.
While all of that is in the cue, I await my feathery flock of friends.
The birds haven't visited the bird feeder yet. It may take a few weeks. Last night I put out my four solar lights near the boundary of my land and the preserve. Soon, I will put out the trail camera to see what visits in the night. I can't wait to see what is out and about in the wee hours.
Land is a curious thing. We are all just passing through it. I like living on it gently. Doing no harm.
Did you know that in Maine, mineral rights to land automatically convey with the land? They don't out west. I found after an extensive google search, this information was not readily available. But then, that isn't odd is it? Especially in a country that values energy and capitalism over people.
Maine has a unique value of the land and of its people. They really are leaders in the environmental movement. I really shouldn't call it a movement because it has always been a way of life for them. Maine keeps it simple.
"Knock, knock."
"Who's there?"
"I am."
"I am, who?"
"I am a Mainer."
Catholicism As A Cult
For most of my life, I have been plagued by poor souls who follow organized religion. Yes, it plagues me. Trained as a sociologist, I follow groups. Always have. But Catholicism, like the Moonies, or evangelists stand out in the crowd. Why you ask?
Let's look at their history. Organized by King Constantine who founded the religion based essentially on real estate, their financial holdings are worldwide. Money is their foundation. Control is their god.
Is God really about money? And control?
This religion also has a huge history in pedophilia. Yet, the followers continue to tithe, to follow. I shake my head in amazement, in disgust at all of that.
Take a read.
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/23/opinion/i-stood-up-in-mass-and-confronted-my-priest-you-should-too.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage
Let's look at their history. Organized by King Constantine who founded the religion based essentially on real estate, their financial holdings are worldwide. Money is their foundation. Control is their god.
Is God really about money? And control?
This religion also has a huge history in pedophilia. Yet, the followers continue to tithe, to follow. I shake my head in amazement, in disgust at all of that.
Take a read.
I Stood Up in Mass and Confronted My Priest. You Should, Too.
Catholics should not keep on filling the pews every Sunday. It is wrong to support the church.
https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/23/opinion/i-stood-up-in-mass-and-confronted-my-priest-you-should-too.html?action=click&module=Opinion&pgtype=Homepage
Thursday, August 23, 2018
Celebrating 70 Soon
When my adult children asked me what I wanted to do for my 70th birthday, I told them I had to give it some thought. After simplifying this to a fun and meaningful birthday, I made a decision. I really just want to have my two children together for the weekend. Dinner out at a lovely place, spending th days together. Old times.
I loved being a part of my children's lives. Helping to guide them, mentoring them, loving them. But for about eight years, things have gotten busy. Jobs. And then the grands came along. It is hard to have much of a converation with them around. I do enjoy them dearly. But there are times I just want to spend with my children.
And so I shall. Plans are in the works. This touches a very special place in my heart. I am indeed lucky.
I loved being a part of my children's lives. Helping to guide them, mentoring them, loving them. But for about eight years, things have gotten busy. Jobs. And then the grands came along. It is hard to have much of a converation with them around. I do enjoy them dearly. But there are times I just want to spend with my children.
And so I shall. Plans are in the works. This touches a very special place in my heart. I am indeed lucky.
Wednesday, August 22, 2018
25 and 70
The year was 1974. I was twenty-five years old. The Watergate hearings seemed to go on forever. The President of the United States, Richard Nixon, was about to be impeached. He resigned. It took two years.
https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/complete-watergate-timeline-took-longer-realize
Fast forward forty-five years. Once again, we are investigating the President of the United States. This time for breaking more laws than I care to count. For possible treason involving Russian hacking of our elections. We have an idiot for president and a very unstable man. At best.
Cohen pleads guilty, says he coordinated with Trump to pay off women and influence election
Washington Post.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_Counsel_investigation_(2017–present)
Forty-five years.
We're just fifteen months into the current presidential corruption.
A long time friend called today. We are similar in age. She thanked me for supporting her to take a high level position in finance. We laughed about all of her series examinations to be licensed. The hard work. The fear of possible failure. Then the conversation turned to our lives. Marriages. Children. We spoke about the wasted years with husbands who could offer nothing in a relationship. We spoke about our gratitude in having children. Being mothers. We spoke about now.
We spoke about forty-five years of living a life. Of learning. Of being honest with yourself about what you really want. About what you are willing to put up with. About having no clue what your life has meant to others. About learning what it has meant to you as the sand in the hour glass measures the passage of time. Each morsel becomes more precious, minute by minute.
Experiencer Bettina Rodriguez Aguilera runs for the Senate.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2018/08/20/she-claimed-aliens-kidnapped-her-child-major-newspaper-endorsed-her-bid-congress/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.f726b9caafff
The human condition continues. Truth shows itself like flower bulbs erupting for spring. The real story is ~ what will we do about it?
https://www.pbs.org/newshour/politics/complete-watergate-timeline-took-longer-realize
Fast forward forty-five years. Once again, we are investigating the President of the United States. This time for breaking more laws than I care to count. For possible treason involving Russian hacking of our elections. We have an idiot for president and a very unstable man. At best.
Cohen pleads guilty, says he coordinated with Trump to pay off women and influence election
Washington Post.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special_Counsel_investigation_(2017–present)
Forty-five years.
We're just fifteen months into the current presidential corruption.
A long time friend called today. We are similar in age. She thanked me for supporting her to take a high level position in finance. We laughed about all of her series examinations to be licensed. The hard work. The fear of possible failure. Then the conversation turned to our lives. Marriages. Children. We spoke about the wasted years with husbands who could offer nothing in a relationship. We spoke about our gratitude in having children. Being mothers. We spoke about now.
We spoke about forty-five years of living a life. Of learning. Of being honest with yourself about what you really want. About what you are willing to put up with. About having no clue what your life has meant to others. About learning what it has meant to you as the sand in the hour glass measures the passage of time. Each morsel becomes more precious, minute by minute.
Experiencer Bettina Rodriguez Aguilera runs for the Senate.
https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2018/08/20/she-claimed-aliens-kidnapped-her-child-major-newspaper-endorsed-her-bid-congress/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.f726b9caafff
The human condition continues. Truth shows itself like flower bulbs erupting for spring. The real story is ~ what will we do about it?
Monday, August 20, 2018
A Fall Day InSouthern Maine
Taupe tree trunks, elms, pines and oaks reach toward the sky. An assortment of wildflowers in front, placed like an orchestra before the stage showcases. There are white yarrow, queen anne's lace, blue indigo, pink, yellow, violets, dusty mauve something, wood sorrel and purple violets.
I am curious what lies beyond the woods as I see light through the trees. This fall, I will explore it as well as the Presumpscot River nearby.
It's nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. A strong ocean breeze blows in from the east on a cool late August day in this coastal town.
The rustle of tall, fine fescue awaiting mowing and trees swaying in the backdrop are the chorus. All this softens the warmth sun as it moves west to drop below the horizon.
Fall is in the air and it is a welcomed return from a few weeks of unbearable heat and humidity.
Soon birds will eat at the newly installed trefoil designed feeder on the side of the house. Black oiled sunflower is a favorite of birds everywhere and there is plenty to eat. I feel like a child awaiting their arrival, like a child on Christmas morning. The anticipation is palpable.
I don't worry about the wildlife here. Moose aren't seen too often in southern Maine. The katydids are getting noisy on this back-to-school day. This time next year, I will have a naturized buffer between my home and the wonderful neighbors next to me. They'll be native wildflowers, maybe a couple of small trees.
The adventure continues.
I am curious what lies beyond the woods as I see light through the trees. This fall, I will explore it as well as the Presumpscot River nearby.
It's nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. A strong ocean breeze blows in from the east on a cool late August day in this coastal town.
The rustle of tall, fine fescue awaiting mowing and trees swaying in the backdrop are the chorus. All this softens the warmth sun as it moves west to drop below the horizon.
Fall is in the air and it is a welcomed return from a few weeks of unbearable heat and humidity.
Soon birds will eat at the newly installed trefoil designed feeder on the side of the house. Black oiled sunflower is a favorite of birds everywhere and there is plenty to eat. I feel like a child awaiting their arrival, like a child on Christmas morning. The anticipation is palpable.
I don't worry about the wildlife here. Moose aren't seen too often in southern Maine. The katydids are getting noisy on this back-to-school day. This time next year, I will have a naturized buffer between my home and the wonderful neighbors next to me. They'll be native wildflowers, maybe a couple of small trees.
The adventure continues.
Friday, August 3, 2018
Moving?
I've used the same moving company for years. The first move was outstanding. The same driver packed us up and moved up. The second move was ok, so was the third. The fourth was a nightmare. The company salesperson lied. I was told everything would be packed and unpacked and the boxes removed. They refused to do that. The fifth move I used the same company was a different transfer agent who used the same incompetents to move my things in. Everything was unpacked.
The sixth move was basically ok. Several things were broken at my former house including a damaged wall. Moving things into this house, repeated the same scenario. I paid for unpacking and the boxes to be removed and the company told me it would be a unpartial unpack.
The same salesperson handled these moves. This person is a pathological liar as is just about everyone with whom I have dealt. They will be reported to the Better Business Bureau for starters.
Moving is always a challenge. No one should be allowed to drive nine hours straight, then unload a truck with one novice. The novice had no clue how to assemble my bed frame. Six unnecessary holes later, I showed him hold to assemble it.
Many things are missing from my move, some are broken. The top of a twig end table was snapped off. The company will send an assessor out. In a few more weeks, someone will come out to repair the damaged floors and my things. My grandmother's bowl is missing and that is near and dear to me.
Buyer beware!!
The sixth move was basically ok. Several things were broken at my former house including a damaged wall. Moving things into this house, repeated the same scenario. I paid for unpacking and the boxes to be removed and the company told me it would be a unpartial unpack.
The same salesperson handled these moves. This person is a pathological liar as is just about everyone with whom I have dealt. They will be reported to the Better Business Bureau for starters.
Moving is always a challenge. No one should be allowed to drive nine hours straight, then unload a truck with one novice. The novice had no clue how to assemble my bed frame. Six unnecessary holes later, I showed him hold to assemble it.
Many things are missing from my move, some are broken. The top of a twig end table was snapped off. The company will send an assessor out. In a few more weeks, someone will come out to repair the damaged floors and my things. My grandmother's bowl is missing and that is near and dear to me.
Buyer beware!!
Monday, July 30, 2018
Empty House
Detective McGirth was lazy beyond his years. Between his love of pork, pork rinds, mashed potatoes and dessert, he grew in size year after year. A man waiting for a heart attack, some would say.
His wife, Lizzie had been pilfering from the community homeowner's association for years. He enjoyed the run off from that money. Shortly after he learned of this, the deputies told him they would cover for her crimes. After all, police have a code of conduct. And it isn't one for the citizen; it is a code for one another. They do not squeal on fellow officers. Ever.
Living in a small town, everyone knew or were related to everyone else. The detective's wife was best friends with Julie's sister. The wife knew about the affair and was happy Julie's sister had finally found a good man. As any man knows, when mama isn't happy, no one is happy. McGirth would keep his wife's secret. He would also cover up the murder of Julie's boyfriend.
McGirth knew what was going on. He only had to look at the lights that were on in Julie's bedroom and see the white van in her driveway to know. When the lights slowly dimmed throughout the house, he knew. McGirth was lazy, not stupid.
Julie didn't have a history of making good choices. She, like her best friend, was also a spiteful kind of person. When another woman, Carlie, went after Julie's boyfriend, Julie wasn't about to give up so easy.
Carlie was highly allergic to bee stings. She carried an Epi-pen with her at all times. Julie suggested Carlie and she hike in the mountains. When Carlie went to the restroom, Julie put her her cloth clothes and removed her Epi-pen from her backpack and hid it. She neatly tucked her cloth clothes back into her own backpack. Since Carlie didn't know the trails, Julie volunteered to be her guide.
It was a hot day with no relief in sight. A bee stung Carlie near her jugular vein and collapsed instantly. Death ensued within ten minutes.
Julie lifted Carlie into the white van and covered her in 6 mil plastic and drove around until she stopped on a ridge near her best friend, Lizzie. Lizzie would know what to do. But she wasn't sure she wanted to involve Lizzie. When she heard the crushing of leaves as though someone or something was walking in her direction, she hid under the plastic. As he footsteps got closer, she panicked and came out of the van. She thought that no one would dare look inside so she could have time to conjure up a story.
Just then, Beth, Lizzie's neighbor who also knew Julie and her sister appeared by the white van.
They say families often have pathology. Or traits even. Spitefulness was in Julie's family. They would get even no matter the cost. Betrayal was a curse throughout generations.
And get even they did. When Lizzie returned home, she found a note from Julie's inside her detective husband's jeans.
"Honey, meet me for coffee in town."
- Julie
Detective McGirth had been leaving for work early the past few months.
"It's quite an involved case," he told Lizzie.
But Lizzie suspected her best friend. She had done it to others. And she had no standards.
That night when the detective returned from work, Lizzie had her own surprise for him.
A large red sign hung from the second bedroom.
"Honey, meet me for coffee in town."
- your girlfriend, Julie
McGirth stopped his patrol car dead in the driveway looking up. He slowly walked to the front door and opened it. The house was totally empty.
His wife, Lizzie had been pilfering from the community homeowner's association for years. He enjoyed the run off from that money. Shortly after he learned of this, the deputies told him they would cover for her crimes. After all, police have a code of conduct. And it isn't one for the citizen; it is a code for one another. They do not squeal on fellow officers. Ever.
Living in a small town, everyone knew or were related to everyone else. The detective's wife was best friends with Julie's sister. The wife knew about the affair and was happy Julie's sister had finally found a good man. As any man knows, when mama isn't happy, no one is happy. McGirth would keep his wife's secret. He would also cover up the murder of Julie's boyfriend.
McGirth knew what was going on. He only had to look at the lights that were on in Julie's bedroom and see the white van in her driveway to know. When the lights slowly dimmed throughout the house, he knew. McGirth was lazy, not stupid.
Julie didn't have a history of making good choices. She, like her best friend, was also a spiteful kind of person. When another woman, Carlie, went after Julie's boyfriend, Julie wasn't about to give up so easy.
Carlie was highly allergic to bee stings. She carried an Epi-pen with her at all times. Julie suggested Carlie and she hike in the mountains. When Carlie went to the restroom, Julie put her her cloth clothes and removed her Epi-pen from her backpack and hid it. She neatly tucked her cloth clothes back into her own backpack. Since Carlie didn't know the trails, Julie volunteered to be her guide.
It was a hot day with no relief in sight. A bee stung Carlie near her jugular vein and collapsed instantly. Death ensued within ten minutes.
Julie lifted Carlie into the white van and covered her in 6 mil plastic and drove around until she stopped on a ridge near her best friend, Lizzie. Lizzie would know what to do. But she wasn't sure she wanted to involve Lizzie. When she heard the crushing of leaves as though someone or something was walking in her direction, she hid under the plastic. As he footsteps got closer, she panicked and came out of the van. She thought that no one would dare look inside so she could have time to conjure up a story.
Just then, Beth, Lizzie's neighbor who also knew Julie and her sister appeared by the white van.
They say families often have pathology. Or traits even. Spitefulness was in Julie's family. They would get even no matter the cost. Betrayal was a curse throughout generations.
And get even they did. When Lizzie returned home, she found a note from Julie's inside her detective husband's jeans.
"Honey, meet me for coffee in town."
- Julie
Detective McGirth had been leaving for work early the past few months.
"It's quite an involved case," he told Lizzie.
But Lizzie suspected her best friend. She had done it to others. And she had no standards.
That night when the detective returned from work, Lizzie had her own surprise for him.
A large red sign hung from the second bedroom.
"Honey, meet me for coffee in town."
- your girlfriend, Julie
McGirth stopped his patrol car dead in the driveway looking up. He slowly walked to the front door and opened it. The house was totally empty.
Friday, July 27, 2018
Fallen Oaks
I was beyond tired from the move. Everything went exceedingly well. I kept thinking about the woman in the woods with a Glock. She looked so familiar. For a moment, I thought it was my neighbor, Julie's sister.
Then there was the dead body in the van. But I didn't dare take a look.
The children of the detective are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But Beth forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. Beth never gave that much thought until the first homeowner's association meeting. The detective's wife was on the board of Beth's community homeowner's association in the capacity of vice president. The vice president/wife was also the next door neighbor and friend of the Oakwood Homeowner's Association president. One would think a detective's wife who was also the association's vice president, would surely see a conflict of interest as the president deposited homeowner association dues into her personal account.
Julie and her son were at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year. Both Julie and her son had numerous DUI charges against them. There were other problems. Julie was constantly fighting with her sister. The sister and her husband had been estranged for some time.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide in Oakwood."
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me just last week that there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
The following day Beth was on her way to the airport. Her flight was delayed and hour. She knew the thrift store manager wouldn't contact the Sheriff's office with her information about Julie's death. Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the manager and interview her.
Even on the plane, that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman another visit when she returned to town in a few days.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, we re-merchandised, do you really like it?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him? He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
Then there was the dead body in the van. But I didn't dare take a look.
The following morning my neighbor phoned. Sometime in the middle of the night, Julie and her male friend died. Right under the nose of the county sheriff's detective. McGirth wasn't the sharpest pencil in the drawer. Only last year he boasted of using his silencer to murder two coyotes in his yard.
"They could git my kids, " he said.
"They could git my kids, " he said.
Beth did her best not to appear shocked. After all, McGirth was her neighbor and she wanted to ensure some sense of civility with him. But living in the southern Appalachians means just about everyone carries a weapon. It also means people are cavalier about using them when wild animals enter their land. Risk or not.
The children of the detective are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But Beth forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. Beth never gave that much thought until the first homeowner's association meeting. The detective's wife was on the board of Beth's community homeowner's association in the capacity of vice president. The vice president/wife was also the next door neighbor and friend of the Oakwood Homeowner's Association president. One would think a detective's wife who was also the association's vice president, would surely see a conflict of interest as the president deposited homeowner association dues into her personal account.
When a new board was formed the following year, community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's department regarding this. They were escorted to a small room in the back of the department. The door was closed abruptly.
"You need to let this go," the lieutenant said.
The new president and her board were taken aback. Speechless. They wondered how a detective's salary could afford a new Lincoln SUV. They couldn't get out of the room fast enough.
There were other things that didn't fit. Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie. To the right of him is the Pesty family. The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road with a sweeping view. Yet no one in the Sheriff's Department examined the suveillance footage.
Julie and her son were at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year. Both Julie and her son had numerous DUI charges against them. There were other problems. Julie was constantly fighting with her sister. The sister and her husband had been estranged for some time.
When Julie did not answer her phone for two days, a friend stopped by. The back door of her home was left ajar. Julie and her male friend were inside. Julie was found on the floor, her male friend on the bed. A gun was near his hand. Both were unclothed.
Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment? Could he have been on drugs at the time? Was Julie's sister, the woman I saw in the woods, the same woman I video'd on my cell phone involved? Did the son seize the opportunity to destroy both of them since he was the only child and heir apparent to whatever Julie had accumulated financially? This incident was kept secret for five days by the county Sheriff's Department.
Six days after their deaths, Julie's family drove from Florida and completely emptied the house. A For Sale sign went up the same day.
Beth had been an investigative reporter for a few years. She was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by. Beth had donated many things to the store and the thrift shop manager had been to her home numerous times picking up furniture in their truck.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide in Oakwood."
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me just last week that there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
The following day Beth was on her way to the airport. Her flight was delayed and hour. She knew the thrift store manager wouldn't contact the Sheriff's office with her information about Julie's death. Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the manager and interview her.
Even on the plane, that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman another visit when she returned to town in a few days.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, we re-merchandised, do you really like it?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him? He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
"Wait. So he never stopped into the store to ask any questions? I mean you are just down the street and everyone shops here."
"He never called or came to interview me. Nothing," she said.
"This doesn't fit. People do not quarrel or fight undressed, especially women."
Beth requested a copy of the autopsy from the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in North Carolina. No toxicology studies were done. Inspection of the police report never discussed fingerprints on the gun allegedly used other than it was a Glock. Nor was her home dusted for fingerprints. The report said it all.
Suicide.
There was far more to the story. Why was the detective in such a hurry to close out this case?
Monday, November 30, 2015
The Light Switch Caper
It is happening again!
For the fourth time this year, I awakened to find the light switch in my kitchen was turned up. This means someone turned on the dining room chandelier during the night. I never use the chandelier. Ever.
As I walked over to the dining room switch, I turned this on and put the kitchen switch which controls the dining room chandelier off or down. The light is off.
Who could the nightly visitor be? It only happens late at night or early in the morning.
The phantom knows.
For the fourth time this year, I awakened to find the light switch in my kitchen was turned up. This means someone turned on the dining room chandelier during the night. I never use the chandelier. Ever.
As I walked over to the dining room switch, I turned this on and put the kitchen switch which controls the dining room chandelier off or down. The light is off.
Who could the nightly visitor be? It only happens late at night or early in the morning.
The phantom knows.
Wednesday, November 4, 2015
Last November
Nora sat at her computer. She couldn't believe they gave her Netflix. Netflix? A gift of more computer headaches. Of forty minutes on the phone with a young customer service rep only to be tossed to another to repeat the whole story."The card says I can get a DVD without my credit card," she told the representative.
"Well, let me speak with my supervisor."
Eight minutes lapsed.
"We can do streaming without your credit card, but not for a DVD service. It is our policy."
"Is it your policy to lie to customers? The card says you can do this."
"Not without your credit card on file."
"Lemme get this straight. the deal is you will balance bill me, correct?"
"Yes, that is correct. You will also need to go back onto your computer to cancel the service."
"Wait a minute. This is supposed to be a gift. The gift that apparently ties me to you," she said slamming down the phone.
Nora melted. She had had enough. A crappy birthday, a gift from someone who should know she didn't want Netflix as she had told them time and time again. If she had wanted it, she would have it. Simple? She was always appreciative of kindnesses done to her She let so much slide. But she wouldn't anymore. Couldn't
Netflix was the metaphor. This would be her last November. Not again.
"Thank you all for your friendship. It has been...um...interesting."
She didn't fit into this world. Not the world it was becoming.
"Well, let me speak with my supervisor."
Eight minutes lapsed.
"We can do streaming without your credit card, but not for a DVD service. It is our policy."
"Is it your policy to lie to customers? The card says you can do this."
"Not without your credit card on file."
"Lemme get this straight. the deal is you will balance bill me, correct?"
"Yes, that is correct. You will also need to go back onto your computer to cancel the service."
"Wait a minute. This is supposed to be a gift. The gift that apparently ties me to you," she said slamming down the phone.
Nora melted. She had had enough. A crappy birthday, a gift from someone who should know she didn't want Netflix as she had told them time and time again. If she had wanted it, she would have it. Simple? She was always appreciative of kindnesses done to her She let so much slide. But she wouldn't anymore. Couldn't
Netflix was the metaphor. This would be her last November. Not again.
"Thank you all for your friendship. It has been...um...interesting."
She didn't fit into this world. Not the world it was becoming.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Crimes In A Small Community
Sometime in the middle of the night, Julie and her boyfriend died. Right under the nose of the county sheriff's detective. McGirth wasn't the sharpest pencil in the drawer. Only last year he boasted of using his silencer to murder two coyotes in his yard.
"They could git my kids, " he justified.
The children are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But this writer forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. She and the detective are wide in statue so I suspect this vehicle fits them comfortably. Having said this, I wonder about the former's ability to protect the people in the county who pay him in such a wide condition.
Interestingly enough, the wife was on the board of this community homeowner's association with her next door neighbor and friend, the president. One would think a detective's wife would know better than to be a part of homeowner association funds going into the president's personal bank account. When community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's Department regarding this, they were told quietly, "to let this go." One could only wonder how a detective's salary affords a Lincoln SUV. We can use our imagination here. That and family money. Enough to buy into an upscale community.
Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie. To the right of him is the Pesty family. The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road. Has anyone thought to examine the footage?
The son and his mother have been at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year.
The deaths of Julie and her friend, were both naked at discovery. Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment? Could he have seized the opportunity to destroy both of them? Could he have been on drugs at the time? This incident was kept secretive for five days by the county Sheriff's Department. Until an investigative reporter decider to probe a bit further. Neighbors were suspicious from the get go. Both Julie, her son and her son's girlfriend has been in trouble with the law on numerous occasions.
Beth was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide," she said.
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the
But that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman a visit.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, how do you like the store now?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him. He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
Beth remember the black stake she found in her yard the day after the moving van damaged her hill
making indentations from the entrance to the community, around the log road encircling her home.
She thought about the documentary she tried to upload to her Mac yesterday. iMovie uploaded every photo in her computer. The documentary never uploaded.
Beth thought a minute.
Maybe all of this is a sign. Maybe it is time to drop the investigation, drop the Missing Time documentary on her extra terrestrial experience. Evil is brewing right there in Oakwood.
UPDATE: An informant mentioned this writer that the deceased woman was having an affair with a a family member's husband. The wife was never questioned.
"They could git my kids, " he justified.
The children are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But this writer forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. She and the detective are wide in statue so I suspect this vehicle fits them comfortably. Having said this, I wonder about the former's ability to protect the people in the county who pay him in such a wide condition.
Interestingly enough, the wife was on the board of this community homeowner's association with her next door neighbor and friend, the president. One would think a detective's wife would know better than to be a part of homeowner association funds going into the president's personal bank account. When community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's Department regarding this, they were told quietly, "to let this go." One could only wonder how a detective's salary affords a Lincoln SUV. We can use our imagination here. That and family money. Enough to buy into an upscale community.
Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie. To the right of him is the Pesty family. The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road. Has anyone thought to examine the footage?
The son and his mother have been at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year.
The deaths of Julie and her friend, were both naked at discovery. Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment? Could he have seized the opportunity to destroy both of them? Could he have been on drugs at the time? This incident was kept secretive for five days by the county Sheriff's Department. Until an investigative reporter decider to probe a bit further. Neighbors were suspicious from the get go. Both Julie, her son and her son's girlfriend has been in trouble with the law on numerous occasions.
Beth was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide," she said.
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the
But that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman a visit.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, how do you like the store now?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him. He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
Beth remember the black stake she found in her yard the day after the moving van damaged her hill
making indentations from the entrance to the community, around the log road encircling her home.
She thought about the documentary she tried to upload to her Mac yesterday. iMovie uploaded every photo in her computer. The documentary never uploaded.
Beth thought a minute.
Maybe all of this is a sign. Maybe it is time to drop the investigation, drop the Missing Time documentary on her extra terrestrial experience. Evil is brewing right there in Oakwood.
UPDATE: An informant mentioned this writer that the deceased woman was having an affair with a a family member's husband. The wife was never questioned.
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Coldness Comes
An arctic cold front sent wind barreling out of the northwest spreading its abundance along the eastern United States. Again. Beth knew the snow would be a cover for so much that was happening. But what?
An early walk to the hill above revealed rabbit and fox had made their way across the land. She hadn't seen the fox in nearly four years. Wondered about them. Wondered if her gun toting cop neighbor with a silencer killed them. She noticed more crows around the homestead the past year. Perhaps they weren't confused by the global warming, but were awaiting carcass dinner.
Without her beloved dogs, she would never know. They had a way of communicating whatever was in the community. Racing from one end of the house to the other and looking up told the story. Now, she would have to develop those senses on her own.
Her senses were developing. Escalating. Between the downloads and exhausting winter chill, her body was resting more. Quieter. She loved being on the mountain. It is safe. Natural. Home.
So much of her landscape was changing. Even nightfall was changing. About an hour after sundown that the light in the sky seems to fade. It is as though someone is dimming a light bulb. A giant light bulb. It happens in an instant. Then gone.
Beth's bed is near a sliding glass door which leads to a sunroom. There is lots of light coming into the room. The bed is a clear tower from which to observe.
Soothsayers and prophets tell us that we may have a few days of total darkness. The academic mind can not fathom that because there has been no analysis leading to it. No formulas, no history, no models. But we know things happen that science can not explain. And I know enough to balance the academic with the realities of life.
It was Tuesday morning and Beth was driving down the eight degree grade. She couldn't hit the brakes fast enough. It was an arrow pointed down on the left side of my road.
"It has to be a surveyor marking," she thought.
Later that night, at the annual homeowner's association meeting, Beth asked her next door neighbor about it.
"Did you have your land surveyed?" she asked.
"No, we plan to do that next month," the neighbor said.
"Well, there is some kind of marker on my land. Will you ask your husband to take a look at it?"
A half hour later a text arrived.
"He says it is an a marker of some sort. "
"That is what we thought," she said.
"You know, Fred filed the legal papers against Mike?"
"I didn't know," Beth said.
"Yes, he would have gotten them a week ago," the neighbor said.
We both thought the same thing. Mike.
"But Mike was out of town, visiting Edisto Beach. He took the whole family" I said.
Something doesn't fit.
It was just about a month ago when family members discovered a murder-suicide down the street. Neighbors wondered if someone else did it. Maybe a burglary or something. The house went up for sale almost immediately.
But what about the marker. It was placed on the same line as her neighbor's house. While Beth felt safe enough, she worried about her neighbor.
Then Beth wrote her own letter about the barking dogs to the homeowner's association board. She had had enough.
Stand tall or get out of the way.
Without her beloved dogs, she would never know. They had a way of communicating whatever was in the community. Racing from one end of the house to the other and looking up told the story. Now, she would have to develop those senses on her own.
Her senses were developing. Escalating. Between the downloads and exhausting winter chill, her body was resting more. Quieter. She loved being on the mountain. It is safe. Natural. Home.
So much of her landscape was changing. Even nightfall was changing. About an hour after sundown that the light in the sky seems to fade. It is as though someone is dimming a light bulb. A giant light bulb. It happens in an instant. Then gone.
Beth's bed is near a sliding glass door which leads to a sunroom. There is lots of light coming into the room. The bed is a clear tower from which to observe.
Soothsayers and prophets tell us that we may have a few days of total darkness. The academic mind can not fathom that because there has been no analysis leading to it. No formulas, no history, no models. But we know things happen that science can not explain. And I know enough to balance the academic with the realities of life.
It was Tuesday morning and Beth was driving down the eight degree grade. She couldn't hit the brakes fast enough. It was an arrow pointed down on the left side of my road.
"It has to be a surveyor marking," she thought.
Later that night, at the annual homeowner's association meeting, Beth asked her next door neighbor about it.
"Did you have your land surveyed?" she asked.
"No, we plan to do that next month," the neighbor said.
"Well, there is some kind of marker on my land. Will you ask your husband to take a look at it?"
A half hour later a text arrived.
"He says it is an a marker of some sort. "
"That is what we thought," she said.
"You know, Fred filed the legal papers against Mike?"
"I didn't know," Beth said.
"Yes, he would have gotten them a week ago," the neighbor said.
We both thought the same thing. Mike.
"But Mike was out of town, visiting Edisto Beach. He took the whole family" I said.
Something doesn't fit.
It was just about a month ago when family members discovered a murder-suicide down the street. Neighbors wondered if someone else did it. Maybe a burglary or something. The house went up for sale almost immediately.
But what about the marker. It was placed on the same line as her neighbor's house. While Beth felt safe enough, she worried about her neighbor.
Then Beth wrote her own letter about the barking dogs to the homeowner's association board. She had had enough.
Stand tall or get out of the way.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Blue Man
Where do I begin to tell a story of my visit to the other side?
This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the Experiencer's Speak 2015 Conference. This was held in Portland, Maine, just fifteen minutes from the beautiful Casco Bay. At once, I was greeted by the cool, salt air and raised vibrational energy of the Portland, Maine area.
Almost immediately, when I entered the hotel the day before the conference was due to begin, one warm and friendly smile and wide, 'hello' after anoather welcomed me. One by one, one person after another as the attendees filtered in from California and from the United Kingdom. Their smiles were radiant; the vibrational frequency palpable.
One by one, the speakers told of feeling a presence, seeing a ship or alien once, twice or throughout their lives. Their credentials of each speaker were impeccable. Scientists, biologists, wilderness guides, writers, contractors, accountants, professors, young people, older folks. Some saw orbs, some had photos of space ships, some looked worn and distressed because of their abductions. Some like me, had animal totems come to them over the course of years. Some were screen savers, or what we affectionately refer to when alien and/orspace ship turn into knowable, less traumatic beings. Owls were one form of messenger.
One academic spoke about the importance of understanding neuroscience. That the right and left brain have separated functions. We know the left brain has long held a more esteemed presence since it is the analytical/storyteller portion. It tries to make sense of what the right brain, the oneness, non-judgmental and synchronious, connected portion of our brains tell us. We remote view in the right hemisphere where the NOW lives. We understand the great importance of the right brain and work hard to explain its value.
We also know we live in a patterned universe. Nothing is random. We've seen worms, segmented worms become complete bodies, trees and vegetation grow itself again, sometimes in the same space, sometimes in another. It is anything but meaningless. My right sided hemisphere remembers.
I was chosen. Chosen to see a spaceship. Chosen to tell a story. A mere messenger charged with the task of helping humans understand that their destruction active or passive of our environment is destroying the universe. Earth, the densest planet in our solar system is rich in metals. Unidentified foreign objects or UFOs are here to observe. They don't want anything more. They have what they need. The worry about our child-like emotions, our ability to soil the land we occupy, our incessant need and choice to acquire more.
At the end of the conference, when I had gone to bed, I was told about a man who entered just before the Travis Walton film and discussion ended. He had a hat pulled down close to his eyes. Long sleeved shirt. His head was down. An attendee noticed his skin was blue. Blue face, blue neck, blue hands. The rest of him was covered up. He stayed only a
This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the Experiencer's Speak 2015 Conference. This was held in Portland, Maine, just fifteen minutes from the beautiful Casco Bay. At once, I was greeted by the cool, salt air and raised vibrational energy of the Portland, Maine area.
Almost immediately, when I entered the hotel the day before the conference was due to begin, one warm and friendly smile and wide, 'hello' after anoather welcomed me. One by one, one person after another as the attendees filtered in from California and from the United Kingdom. Their smiles were radiant; the vibrational frequency palpable.
One by one, the speakers told of feeling a presence, seeing a ship or alien once, twice or throughout their lives. Their credentials of each speaker were impeccable. Scientists, biologists, wilderness guides, writers, contractors, accountants, professors, young people, older folks. Some saw orbs, some had photos of space ships, some looked worn and distressed because of their abductions. Some like me, had animal totems come to them over the course of years. Some were screen savers, or what we affectionately refer to when alien and/orspace ship turn into knowable, less traumatic beings. Owls were one form of messenger.
One academic spoke about the importance of understanding neuroscience. That the right and left brain have separated functions. We know the left brain has long held a more esteemed presence since it is the analytical/storyteller portion. It tries to make sense of what the right brain, the oneness, non-judgmental and synchronious, connected portion of our brains tell us. We remote view in the right hemisphere where the NOW lives. We understand the great importance of the right brain and work hard to explain its value.
We also know we live in a patterned universe. Nothing is random. We've seen worms, segmented worms become complete bodies, trees and vegetation grow itself again, sometimes in the same space, sometimes in another. It is anything but meaningless. My right sided hemisphere remembers.
I was chosen. Chosen to see a spaceship. Chosen to tell a story. A mere messenger charged with the task of helping humans understand that their destruction active or passive of our environment is destroying the universe. Earth, the densest planet in our solar system is rich in metals. Unidentified foreign objects or UFOs are here to observe. They don't want anything more. They have what they need. The worry about our child-like emotions, our ability to soil the land we occupy, our incessant need and choice to acquire more.
At the end of the conference, when I had gone to bed, I was told about a man who entered just before the Travis Walton film and discussion ended. He had a hat pulled down close to his eyes. Long sleeved shirt. His head was down. An attendee noticed his skin was blue. Blue face, blue neck, blue hands. The rest of him was covered up. He stayed only a
few minutes, as if to check up on the final evening and left.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Plastic Surprise
The animals are everywhere now. As I was sitting in the yard on the peach Adirondack chairs, I felt a presence nearby. At first I thought it was the asters I was looking for on the right side of the hill. You can imagine what joy it was to finally see them. Fall is nearly upon us. Even with heat in the low 90s. It is the foreshadowing for which those of us in the natural world search.
This plastic was part of a dish I used to bait the raccoon in early May. It was part of a dish which held a rotisserie chicken. What is odd is that it was ten feet away from where it was dropped. I thought I had found all the pieces. Curiously enough, one piece after another shows up when a friend of mine contacts me. It is an odd metaphor. He brought the dish and chicken here in early spring we could protect this bandit from itself. It was digging one foot holes in my garden making mowing quite dangerous. But for a month or so, I hadn't seen any of the chewed plastic. Until today. I also have not seen him.
With paint spotted blue crocs on, I climbed the steep hill and dug my feet in. I wasn't going to miss capturing these pretties. As soon as I snapped this photo, I could hear rustling of the bushes. Something was there.
So I slid, yes, slid, down the hill, this hill ten years ago was easy to climb and descend. Now I was just happy to get a close encounter with these wildflowers. Turning under the dogwood trees, the sense of the presence was stronger. Then it happened.
Something told me to look down.
This plastic was part of a dish I used to bait the raccoon in early May. It was part of a dish which held a rotisserie chicken. What is odd is that it was ten feet away from where it was dropped. I thought I had found all the pieces. Curiously enough, one piece after another shows up when a friend of mine contacts me. It is an odd metaphor. He brought the dish and chicken here in early spring we could protect this bandit from itself. It was digging one foot holes in my garden making mowing quite dangerous. But for a month or so, I hadn't seen any of the chewed plastic. Until today. I also have not seen him.
I still do not know what was in those woods beyond the white pines, mountain laurel and Canadian hemlocks. Whatever it was, I suspect it will come out soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)