Ocean Entry Dec 27 Big Island

Hawaii Full Moon Eclipse

The stars almighty brightness stunning

My spirit humbled in their presence

Clouds and rain for weeks barely any sun

And this early morn all swept away for this spectacular sight

So many stars

The moon heading down in the western sky

A giant peach with a color like calm

Mesmerizing to watch the miracle

Of moon and sun and earth

Passing each other

Falling stars streaking by

More  magic like icing on a cake

Can it get any better

Standing alone with my thoughts

So much spirit so many stars

Full Moon 11/11/11

Today is the anniversary of the day I was given the gift of recovery. At least I think it was the 11^th. Or close to it. Can’t really remember the exact day I picked up total abstinence and didn’t pick up anything else, but it was right before November 11, 1987.

Oh my, that day is a miserable memory. I said goodbye to my four year old son at daycare and my mother drove me to a treatment place. I call it a place because it wasn’t a ‘center’ or a hospital or cold and whitewashed. It  happened to be in the woods, up in the hills of western Sonoma county.  Looked like an old lodge in the redwoods, not fancy, just human and funky.  Which wasn’t what I was feeling in the least.

The way I ended up there is a story in itself. Let’s just say a recovering alcoholic of the old-timer variety was sitting across from me while I told my sad sack story. He was the Employee Assistance program person for the postal service at the time. This is when actual recovering addicts and alcoholics were running programs like this. Soon after, a masters degree was required. Don’t get me going on this subject or I’ll regress. As I tend to do. Anyway he cut me off while I was whining crying, and said he had a plan for me. Blessings to this man. But not what I was feeling about him at the time.

This was two days after being kicked out of my home by a husband who was angry, betrayed, and at his wits end. With good reason.  We talk about having the disease of addiction, but it doesn’t let us off the hook for the actions we take while in it. His denial enabled me to keep up my own, but once his was broken through, all hell broke loose, and I knew in my heart the bottom had come up to bite me in the ass. I felt my whole world had ended. And in many respects it had, and although many insights have come in the last 24 years, that day I knew only one thing. I was fucked.

As I write now, I see the slight dark humor in all our stories, our perceptions, the person we were compared to where we have come. It doesn’t erase the fact that addiction is a killer. Of our physical  selves, our bodies, some of us fatally. Never to see the smile of a child, the touch of a friend, the intimacy of love, the nature of our magnificent earth.

The disease increases the insanity of our minds that tell us we are separate, as we continue to live in that bubble of isolation and fear.  But, worst of all, it kills our spirits. The part of us which dreams, aspires, takes risks, guides us to courageous acts internally and externally. The spiritual nature of the disease and respect for what that feels like, to be spiritually bankrupt,  is what keeps me coming back for  human connection, for earthly connection,  the reminder that there is whole big magnificent world out there, keeping me in the loop of humanity. And that opens the door for so many other miracles. Too many to mention here, but miracles of mind exploration, body exploration, earthly traveling exploration….all of it.

Ok, so I got a little carried away there. Life is serious and joyful depending my thinking in the moment. Today I feel gratitude and so much love. Wish I could bottle it and give it away. Giving is receiving and I have received so much love. Today I will try to remember to smile every moment. And give that away.

Thank you…..xo

Hudson Fall

Pink orange pastel red
Lingering shades of green
Colors of the sun setting
On a misty day

The clouds floating with purpose
Somewhere to go somewhere to be
The airs coldness belying the coming season
No time for summer plans
All is over in this time and place

Cold winter snow wind
Coming to cover the world
Homes with steep roofs
Creeks flowing muddy already
No way to hide the seasons change

10 Years Ago Today

For the generations who remembered where they were, what was happening on the day JFK was shot; this same experience is shared with the 9/11 tragedy. We were all somewhere living our lives, and although our experiences are different, and how can I possibly compare my experience to someone who lost a loved one that day?…..We were all affected.

On September 10, 2011 a mothers 17 year old sons’ lung collapsed. She was called at work and hurried to the high school, and after being checked at the small local hospital, they said taking him to a medical facility 30 miles away would be a better idea and since using an ambulance might take longer than driving him herself; she raced there. In emergency the doctor poked a hole in his chest with an instrument as big as quarter, no anesthesia, hoping to inflate his lung……….this is my story.

I spent the night in the hospital room with my son, waiting for his lung to right itself, to inflate, and hopefully avoid surgery. I’ve learned since that the pain in growing boys’ chests with this kind of trauma is one of the most extreme kinds of pain.  After a sleepless night his face was white, he was crying out……and the planes were hitting the World Trade Center. In retrospect of course I see the confusion, the grief, the fear in the nurses faces. But in that moment I saw people distracted, my son suffering in agony, and me powerless running around looking for doctor to give my son morphine or some kind of painkiller to ease him. The only thing on the small television in the hospital room was the Manhattan skyline…….

So much has been written of this event, of our feelings, of anger, fear, and grief. All of it expressed through the years in the most poignant ways.  I cannot come close to conveying all the event, and peoples experiences of 9/11 entails. Today on the 10 year anniversary, I do know what I have learned through this. More about our human capacity for compassion and empathy for one another.  More about hate and fear and how that destroys our hearts and the hearts of others.  More about how one event can rip a country apart, and bring it back together. I have learned so much about New York City and its people and love them as if I was one of them. That is unity in the midst of pain.

My son had the emergency surgery that day, and was in intensive care for a week.  I basically lived at the hospital for two weeks and missed much of the initial fallout of the tragedy because of caring for him. Being a postal employee I missed that we were called into Civil Service emergency, with no planes meant no mail moved. The country was in crisis and so were we, in a different way. The TV in the hospital kept us informed and there was nothing else on, just as when I was ten years old, and John Kennedy was assassinated. 

I remember a night in the ICU. Two of my son’s friends had snuck in to visit him. One, a young girl, was curled up on the bed with Casey. I recall that feeling of caring and sharing pain, and loving each other and how I hoped his friends would carry on in their lives with that. Life’s moments are made up of these small instances that bring to our hearts what really matters.

In honor of those who died on this day ten years ago, for those who suffered in any way because of this violent action; I send hope and a heart full of thanks for the resilience and love of the human spirit.

Glen Ellen

Glen Ellen

In Northern California  now, the scent of sage, dry grasses, the  fragrance of the late

summers of my youth, of my life. Absolutely incredible how our sense of smell

stirs the brain organ in as sundry  ways (geez always have trouble with the

spelling of that word! Another brain block)

Anyway to get back to where I am. Sitting up in bed in the most beautiful renovated

barn you will ever witness, feeling like a little princess with my tea, early in

the morn, friends stirring in the house, wild California oaks under foggy skies

out my window.....and the freedom to do whatever my heart desires (ok, within

reason) all day today.

There was a time I lived up this road a piece, on a hill overlooking Sonoma

Valley. It was a small redwood cabin with a wood stove on the edge of a

vineyard. So amazing what passing time, recollection and retrospect will do

to our memories. It was one of the most difficult times of my life, but the

smell of the morning air with that hint of wild sage this morning, blankets my

memory with a sweetness and longing. Wondering where that time went, where I went,

where  my dead friends have gone……

I am not sad at all, just nostalgic, even hopeful, sentimental.

Looking at my age and the passing years.

Gee, I hope there is some new wisdom inside me, or do we keep relearning the same

old lessons? Not that I feel old, in fact my heart has the same stance, the never aging quality

of curiosity hope love awareness,  awake to the future……..oh the air and coolness of this morning,

and the strong scent of summer dried grasses carries me.

World Suffering

How many Navy Seals went down in that helicopter in Afghanistan?

Their families, their daughter sons wives mothers fathers

The grief of this time on their shoulders

No more sitting at the dinner table

Walking in the woods

Playing with the dog

Swimming in the ocean

But there is much more suffering than we can fathom

The face of famine in the children in Somalia

The young people being massacred in Syria

The prisons around the world filled with suffering spirits

The misfortune and distress caused by men against men

How does our psyche hold all this pain?

Of the world, our earth, without bending over

In a fetal position of utmost surrender

How do we keep any semblance of hope alive

In our Spirits?

Poetry is Good

Poetry is good. Good therapy. Good for the soul.

Good for the heart.

Poetry is a release. An exercise.

Makes you feel you’re doing something to help yourself.

Nothing to do with thinking others may read it.

An exercise of desperation.

Maybe healing a slight wound.

Or a major one.

Writing helps me to go on.

Just one more minute. One more day.

All of it doesn’t really matter.

Life begins with birth. It ends with death.

All in between is extra.

Gifts and burdens.

Love joy pain awake in life.

And so many feelings.

Often confusing; sometimes tingles, sometimes tickles.

Sometimes a knife.

Poetry is good.

The Search

My goodness there is so much information on the internet. Take for instance, bettering your life; either through yoga, healthy eating, prayer, learning to love yourself, taking charge of your life, that manifestation thing……..you get the drift (I love the word drift used like that). Anyway these entries on blogs, columns, in Huffington and a million places actually do have answers. I am making fun slightly, but there is some great advice, solutions, insights, all at the end of a clicking mouse. People have stuff to say about their lives, how they cope, their inspirations, what works, self love blah blah blah. There I go again.

And so many great quotes from down the ages………..it’s all at the end of our fingertips, in books, so many books. Don’t even get me going on books. My mind is a sponge for the answers to happiness within, acceptance, love in all its forms, the Sweet Spirit we are all a part of………..But I am lost in all of it. I soak up everything and nothing clings. The next day I start over with what simple thoughts I can remember to apply to my horrendously painful mind.  Yes, I’m in a quandary (another word to like) a darkness of the soul, pains of spiritual growth, depression of mind and spirit, or the shit…….whatever you would like to call it. And there are incredible helpful stupendous answers out there. But the awakening will happen within, not out there.

I have some very clear short sentences that help me remember I am a lovable spirit in this human body. And that a whole lot doesn’t even matter in this life we live, as centers of our own universes. Phrases that save me from myself. Sayings, affirmations that help change my thinking. I will not repeat them here, as they are that personal.  I am not a blogger/writer/theorist with the answers for anyone, but someone reaching out in the ethereal cyberspace ozone (while practicing my writing too) attempting  to become visible. Possibly seen, possibly felt. Maybe even a joint empathy in our crazy trials and tribulations.

In my search for answers, helpful solutions, or the set of words that will awaken the light, kick out my monster, and have me live happily ever after………I learn about you, myself, the world. And as far as feeling on top of the world? Well, it just ain’t happening today. Maybe tomorrow. I promise my next blog will be funnier.

Creativity

I haven’t blogged in awhile because it seems everything is personal, and I don’t particularly want to get personal with cyber. Internal controversies they’re called in some circles. And although ‘those’ people meant something slightly different, I have got them big time. So, let’s try this. Remember the point of this blog is to practice writing, with the hope someone might see it and give me feedback. Hint hint.

Creativity is a gift and most of us are unaware we have it. Unaware as in unconscious. Yes, we walk the planet with our eyes closed, our ears shut; but mostly to drown out the deafening sound and sights of all the chatter. Chatter being media, internet, social online overload, TV, drama, Wal-Mart, traffic, business, sometimes family and friends even, and you get the drift. I like that word drift; float, saunter, ride, skim, become carried. And that’s what we do. Ok, that’s what I do. I become carried by what’s in front of me, thinking I’m paying attention, but not really. Becoming insensitive to the trauma of the world, because how do we survive in full awareness of what is really going on.

Yes, I know you’ve heard this all before. So my dilemma is to channel the internal strife caused either by internal or external forces (in most spiritual paths the external is actually decided by the internal. Ok, another subject for another day) and make art. Some creative energy period. Pen to paper. Finger to computer. Paint to brush. Eye to camera. Blueberries to pie. Seed to ground. Fingers to piano. And that’s just the beginning.

Now, I may not be able to do all these things well, but amazingly I have already done all of them! (Seriously, me on the piano is like science fiction). But becoming inventive and being ourselves in this inventive process is not about anybody else. It is about the expression of our dreams, our spirits, our internal nature. And since we are all unique in beautiful ways, what we have inside waiting to be expressed, counts.

So my friends, without divulging all the tiring tribulations of my insides I managed to write a little piece about hope. Hope for your dreams. Hope for the discovery of ways to dance through this life a bit lighter, taking in all that affects us, and generating some small creative piece of life that is you. And at the same time I gave myself hope for this.

Thank you.

4AM

Trying to write wanting to write can’t sleep so might as well. Making sense of it is not the prize just blah blah blah write to fill the time ease the soul keep from picking up someone else’s writing. Gosh, that’s so tempting. To read what’s already written, and so much of it. Could fill my days escaping into stories and pictures real and imagined. So many ways to take a trip without putting words to paper. But…….

What about my own creativity my own story, not my story story but a story. Although I suppose all writers have a bit of themselves, their heart their soul in the story they write. Yes? Maybe not. I’ve read some pretty crappy stuff.

Do you think our parents/ancestors leave psychic mush in our DNA, our neural net, the stuff that haunts us, that makes us wonder why we feel this way, act this way, think this way? What I mean to say, the things we can’t explain that don’t seem a part of us, but seem to have always been there? And not good stuff, let’s get clear about that. The dark parts, the sadness, the self-sabotaging thoughts, the complacency, the holding back on our dreams. Do you think some of that is ingrained by another life, another spirit?

There I go off in the ozone. I like it there. I want be to somewhere besides here in my own head.  Been reading about our souls, before life, during life, after life. Reminds me this isn’t all there is, thank god. I’m not sure what is “there” but that other dimension is captivating engaging comforting. So much of what I give power to, what I may think is important, just plain isn’t. Just useless sludge.

And I will stop here, because if I tell you what the only thing that matters is, I will sound trite and like so many of those sayings clichés spiritual wisdom coming out of my you-know-what.  The word, at least this morning, seems so over used and does not do its’ meaning justice. The meaning being grand, vast, empowering, blessed, heartfelt.

But, I do wish you much of it.

Bin Laden

Ok they got him

I’m chucking my Buddha in the back seat

Not just throwing him in the back

But covering him with a blanket

Want to feel good about someone getting shot in the head.

That Buddha is trying to creep out

With a little mindful smile on his face

Get back there you bald round man!

Teaching me about not harming

Not today

What about all those harmed Sept 11?

And around the world in the name of a god who doesn’t exist

What about the trauma some will never get over

A shot in the head seems a small price to pay

So it’s rationalizing

So one shot won’t stop future terror

So what

I’ll let the round man who smiles sweetly

Out when I’m good and ready

Probably tomorrow.

After seeing I AM (Documentary by Tom Shadyac)

It’s a lot of spacey mind stuff that makes sense

We are all connected

By our hearts, guess what

Our hearts talk to our brain

Not the other way around

Every thought of stress….or love

Makes a pattern in the universe

Grief is a type of love also

Its what opens our hearts

To let more love empathy compassion out into the World.

That is such a good thing

To know that empathetic principle or energy

Is the best part of us.

Gives me hope for us humans

The animals already have it down.

Consensus decisions already happen in the natural animal kingdom.

We humans seem to be lagging

If the tallest mountains in the world, and the oceans and air

And all that connect us, are enter-twined in shared energy

How can we help but to love all be all share all

Quit consuming all?

How can we be guilty of doing….nothing?

My 'Coffee' Table

My desk, well, actually my coffee table.

Why do they call it a ‘coffee’ table?

TV table, living room catch-all table maybe

But coffee?

Ok my desk-table in front of TV in the living room

(Why living room? Do I live here?)

Geez, Kim .  Just write quit questioning.

 With computer,  and sundry paperwork, let’s see, ten books.

Ten books? What the…..they’re only here because I think I’m reading all of them.

Some even at once.

Ok there’s more. Five candles. One of those angel/jesus tall ones in glass.
I like those. Burn forever.

One beautiful crystal. Tigerbalm. Some pictures in a pile.

Whatever you do don’t open an old box and pull out pictures that rip your heart open,

Because they end up on this table ripping you up for weeks.

Till you figure out where to put them, till in the future you find them again.

Sheesh....when they say our lives are a circle I get it.

Pen, remote, phone, calendar, little coasters (that must be for the ‘coffee’)

I like this little prose poem.

Is it a poem?

Well, it is my table I’m writing it on.

So I’ll call it whatever I want.

Bombs Fall

Bombs fall out of the sky
The sky, the same beautiful shade of blue
Men, their fear palatable as fresh cut pears
Running on human adrenaline
The ants in the dirt marching
It’s what ants do
Men surviving or not
What men do
The sky still a beautiful shade of blue

Armstrong Woods

Why read why blog why read blogs

What do people want to read when they read blogs? Not that I think too much about that when I’m writing. More like what I DON’T want you to hear than anything I might want to announce to the whole crazy world, when the fact is, most people are not listening anyway. I was perusing the blogs and was amazed at some, totally bored with others, and educated by a few. Guys with guns claiming to be Christian libertarian conservatives geez, moms with babies, please! Bible sales and wow people sell stuff on blogs. One written by an American in Palestine, a Malaysian far from home, cancer survivors, more babies, ok the family blogs are cute, more selling shit… and more. People sure have stuff to say. What does that say about me? I think I’m writing to practice writing and practice what it feels like to know some unknown person may happen on it and read and hopefully may be be amused, touched, floored, shocked…..or bored. Ha!

Tonight wanting to escape from my life from my feelings so it all looks interesting. Not like I don’t have a stack of reading material to catch up on; the two novels I’m in the midst of (one I’m rereading because was so spaced out on my trip think I missed some The History of Love not what you think but even better!) anyway, the old National Geographics appealing with information new to my mind migrations human population art travel beautiful pictures, The SUN  my favorite magazine in the whole world (I actually read that cover to cover when it comes, and wait for the next), all the Google lists of items to look up and read on all-manner-of-subjects. And then there s the ‘spiritual’ stuff……the old standbys that save my ass when my heart feels the world is ending once again, the Death and Dying book which teaches me compassion, Emmet Fox, Cornfield, the Course, and all the little posts-notes-trick-sayings that help keep me sane and back in the moment. I could read for days and days and days, and do nothing else, and never catch up. And probably only really escape in small moments. But they are sweet.

But really, writing is what I want to do. Make you myself all of us laugh, think, philosophize, care, love, open our hearts, let you see me; but god not too much, be vulnerable but please watch out that’s too close.

So just for now in my minds eye I see the greenest rolling hills, the air is crisp, smells so fresh and wonderful, the sky incredibly blue, and nothing touches me but this visual. Nothing can touch my heart but this. Just for now. And I didn’t have to read a thing!

After close call

Wondering why I'm still here

In big cold at heart Izmir.

Contemplating how I escaped death

Realizing once again

It may not be a sweet goodbye

Surrounded by friends family

Love forgiveness and peace.

The other window may open

With no warning

Am I prepared? My soul ready?

What does that even mean

Short version who knows

No more wasting, been here before.

Gratitude abounds amid shock and fear.

There is no perfect 'ready' time to die.

We all will though, with warning possibly long or short,

possibly agonizing,

Or without warning or premonition.

Over, done, on to the next door.

Turkey two weeks ago

Written March 3rd

Couldn’t get to my blog in Turkey, couldn’t send AOL mail, unless through my phone; and although frustrating, welcome to the insanity-of-the-internet-world outside the US. As I look through my pictures I can see the story, the heartline, the visions made real; and since my memory drops things without a thought (there’s a pun) it is good I do have visual in photos, in body pain, and eventually released brain farts.

Let us start in Istanbul, a city of 18 million. Can’t even get my head around that many people, until I see it.  Winter cold wind chill unbearable. The skies are gray and brown. The traffic horrendous. The history of Istanbul is the draw. What has happened here, who lived here, or tromped through or sailed by. The mosques built on Christian churches, reminding me of Spain’s Christian churches built on mosques. Who was here and then defeated. Allah is everywhere as the minarets call out from dark morning through the day. Islamic writing on the wall with the Virgin Mary. The dichotomy of faith religion belief burrowing in my mind. Dreams at night of running up and down cobblestone streets searching being late worried, not in the moment. I am practicing that while missing musing wondering watching. It isn’t necessarily easy to travel. Yes, it’s a gift a blessing………but not easy.

On to Cappadocia, the land of fairy sand castles, emptied of their inhabitants not long ago. Surrounded by snowy peaks the valleys hold the ancient life mixed with the tourist edge. Being winter not many of us brave enough to tromp in the cold, but tea awaits. Turkish tea(often Lipton), sage tea, apple tea and more.



Cappadocia, Turkey



Dubai

The tallest building in the world

Looking like a computer generated spirit

Rising into space

Unlike any man made structure I’ve ever seen

In the streets Arabians walking slowly

In their traditional dress

The women’s eyes black with makeup

Giving them a stark presence

This desert people citified only barely

How can you change spirits

Born out of shifting sands?

In the bazaar bartering with Iranians, Indians, Pakistanis

Always understanding more than they appear

Me, too tired to play the game

Either giving in but mostly walking on

Acquiring anything seems wasteful useless

Leaving Bahrain

This blog is supposed to be a place to practice writing.

Writing, knowing others will read puts a whole new spin on it.

Traveling and writing adds another dimension.

And then there’s ‘how much personal feeling’ to include.

So all that messes with my thinking, upsets any sort of flow

I may actually be lucky enough to tap into.

Making things more complicated than they are

Is often a roadblock for me. See? Personal.

Ok then. Just frigging write, Kim.

Sitting in the Bahrain International Airport waiting for flight to Dubai

Leaving the Kingdom of Bahrain. The Kingdom thing has a whole new meaning than when I flew in here 8 days ago. I might even recognize the King or Crown Prince if I saw them on the street, so many pictures plastered on cars, on walls, on people backs and butts. I am not kidding. This is not the forum to engage in opinions of who is right and wrong and be politically correct with my leftist views. I thought I knew something, was corrected gently more than once and now…….I know so little and the lines aren’t firm. Killing people is just wrong. That I know.

Outtakes of the last few days……….very many young people driving in cars waving Bahraini flags, happy smiling, women walking the streets with flags their heads covered. The opposition, the poor, only seen on news clips because they come from the suburbs, the Shies, the oppressed, the religious right, so to say. It is not Iran here. There is much freedom and some of the people do not want to lose that. There is also the poor, the discriminated against………really have no opinion as I do not know.

Helicopters overhead all day, in the middle of the night, some shots heard firing randomly, much honking, shops closed in the middle of day, local friends worried for us, ……Others views on American’s part in the Middle East coming at me during the week. I listen. A few are so right. I cannot argue. Only keep my faith instilled in those parts of our Constitution that I have faith in. Freedom of speech, of the press………..is that so true? Equality, separation of church and state….geez, well we are trying aren’t we? Please tell me we are………I need my idealistic values intact otherwise I lose faith. Become one of the apathetic many. That is death.

FEB 17 Early - Bahrain

Notes from an overly tired mind
Contemplating the last few days
Honking cars through the night
Flags hanging from vehicle windows
Looking more like a party than a political statement.
On the television
Watching football in arabic
the language  mesmerizing.
Looking for English speaking news
hell any news what is REALLY happening?
Roadchecks on freeway offramps at night
Our friend and driver avoiding the exit
without much explanation
Concerned for our concern.
Eating the most fantastic humus ever tasted
Bob Marley in the desert
Surreal against backdrop of Arabian musicians.
One love one heart lets get together
and feel all right.
Dancing the dance and feeling the feeling.
It's all in the moment.
In spite of all feeling safe and grateful.
The stars the same stars
the moon the same moon.
I like it here.

FEB 11

This flying thing, it's quite a mishmash of observances and experiences with feelings; fear joy curiousity, that come in waves with it. But first, what is it about black clothing in airports on all the women? Gosh I felt so out of place with a purple skirt and tights on. I mean black pants, black boots, black coats, black black black. What about that? Another nonsense subject for another day.

Flying up into the darkness, out of NJ, with Manhattan exposed beautifully below me. The skyline the Hudson all manner of bridges. But it was the Light that cornered my attention. Lights of the city in every hew, stark dark swath of Central Park running up the middle, bright red glow atop the Empire State. How many people have lived thier lives these past few centuries in this small space? How many spirits huddled amidst the Light? Simply, the nighttime visual was absolutely engaging, lifting my sad thoughtful spirit upwards.

In Frankfurt an Iranian Islamic Republic jet sitting on the runway. You don't see those in the US! Then the biggest double-decker Luthfansa jet I have ever seen! Made the other jets look like prop planes.
From there flying over Germany, Yugaslovia, Bulgeria, Turkey with amazing snowcapped peaks far in the distance. A slice of the Mediteranean before darkness descends. Onwards, grazing airspace of Jordon, Israel, Irag and finally over Saudi Arabia.....the captain announcing to show boarding passes before debarking warning about no alcohol allowed no nude pictures allowed and the penalty. Not that I carry alcohol and nude pictures around with me but still.....And finally the Kingdom of Bahrain, surrounded by water, Saudi, Iran, UAE, and Kuwait. For a blessed few of us, our destination for the week.
Through this 18 hours my thoughts drifted many places but often towards the Egyptian people and what was happening. Who had possible died or been injured that day in the name of freedom?

Outakes HNL to NYC

Flying out of Honolulu looking down on a firework dislpay going off near Waikiki. Of course. Chinese new year, rabbits galore. The meaning of that 'possibly' to be read later. Sitting next to a polite young man the spitting image of Ryan Gosling, having been told that before he still asked who is that? I sigh. Giving me renewed faith in the young generation with his attitude, his job, his trustfulness........or maybe I imagined all that. The supershuttle guy into NYC totally entertaining loose with information, his life included. The passengers from Toronto, Japan, and some other place all newcomers to the City. I felt like an old timer to NYC and that is funny. Being reminded I've lived here before in some other body. The knowing of that is weird strange and not worth dwelliing on, just that inner consciousness that is......going into Lincoln Tunnel with a monstrous billboard of Beatles over it. Surreal the Beatles in such a place 'now available on Itunes'. Snow piled in drifts still imprisoning cars dirty snow white as sheets snow cold beautiful city.

Taking off.....

The biggest storm in decades reaching from New Mexico to the east coast, Egypt erupting in civil unrest, the world made so much smaller by the media that greets me this morning. What am I thinking flying out into the melee that is our earth? In all honesty this weather storm will pass before I board a plane in 56 hours....Not sure about the rest of it. So easy to be touched by the events and human beings half a world away, in this age of instant camera pictures flashing before our eyes, the news media racing to tell you what is happening, who is dying, who is wrong or right. Although true journalism is , just the facts mam, depends on the  integrity of the journalist and the corporation owning the media feed that literally feeds us...............I want to know I want to be informed I don't want to pull the covers over my head and not know not hear not feel. But, really why? My powerlessness in the face of knowledge and facts...........and then the other real question,  what is real and what is bullshit?........
So, enough of the proselytizing, is that what I'm doing (gotta look that up) and tell you my facts.
I'm getting on a plane Friday, heading to NYC, and from there to the Middle East. Not Egypt, but close enough. The land of camels and deserts, and goats, and history.....'our' history since most of us came out of that area eons ago. The land of Mohammad and Jesus and Abraham and Rumi all the parables and books written of these peoples, these hearts and spirits who are a part of us......oops there I go again. Anyway will try to write while there, plans could change, plane flights are the epitome of letting go......and take you along my amazing journey seen through my eyes wide open engaged.......or possibly totally freaked out.

Redwoods

Where Life Begins





Packing

What a process and mindf%*k packing is. Always take items i don't need, but find that out by unpacking; never while packing. Who knows the mood I'll be in to wear that certain item of clothing, that I rarely wear when home anyway. And shampoo, lotions, face creams...how much of that stuff do I want or need? Hell, I'll barely have time sometimes to get where I want to go and plan on sleeping alone the whole damn time so who cares if my hair smells nice (I do!). And, of course the chargers for phone, camera, toohbrush (yes, I have one of those cool sonic-care ones and swear by it)computer, and then adaptors for all this shit too.......Not to mention the few food items I manage to stash in my suitcase; prunes, chocolate (good chocolate!), almond butter for those places where protien-craving will be screaming at my insides, where soy may be non-existent amid the lamb/chicken/goat/whatever choices I can't stomach. Ok, I sound like such a prude but really my stomach has a mind of its own, and although I may try everything once, kims stomach needs its familiar hawaii-fruits-vegs-avacado-wheatless cracker menu. But I do hear there's great yogurt in the middle east so that's plus.......And reading material. Oh my, thats the worst. No, I haven't bought a kindle (was actually hoping for one for christmas, mom) but they are appealing. Most books I'd want to read, even daily meditaion(like I read THAT every day when traveling) could be held on this cool little handheld thingie (oh, another charger in the suitcase)...but I don't have one so what do I pick to read while waiting for 12 planes. Yes, twelve flights in the next 6 weeks....I'm melting down now and really need to pack instead of write gibberish about it. Wish me luck....

Ocean Energy

She walked down the hill to the beach.
The only people there a Japanese couple
who asked her to take their picture.
So funny so typical.
She took off her overalls and shirt,
naked underneath and waded in.
The water surprisingly warm welcomed her.......
how to explain the energy change that took place
as she swam into the deep.
It is like a metamorphosis of consciousness,
happiness and peace infusing her body spirit and mind.
As the rain fell on her she lifted her arms in supplication,
gratitude, grief, and joy all rolled together
bringing tears to her eyes.

Sitting in the sand she gazed out at the ocean.
The cloudy skies opened far out on the sea, a sunlit patch of water,
the sun’s rays painting the water, light sparkling blinding shimmers.
She gazed in awe at the visual beauty,
and as she did it changed, molded, and opened her heart with clarity of spirit.
Mesmerizing.
How to hold that moment,
put it in her pocket to pull out whenever she needed
a reminder of what's real.
The only place that can hold it, is her heart.
And the only way to be constantly reminded
is to keep her heart open.
Otherwise
it is gone.