chocolate crepes and breast cancer

It's on my list: learn to make crepes, so last night Bill wanted donuts.

"I tried before, they didn't turn out so well, plus we don't have any oil," I told him.

He continued on, trying different tacks, wanting fresh donuts.

"How about crepes?" I asked.

"Uhm, sure," he answered, not knowing what crepes were.

I raced upstairs, to get the three recipes I'd downloaded from foodtv.com (I'm a foody - love Rachel Ray and Giada, plus they've got great recipes). I thought I'd try the simplest one from Paula Dean (I had all the ingredients, too). I found my biggest saute pan, melted the 6 tablespoons of butter, whisked the 3 eggs, 3/4 cup flour, 1 1/3 cup skim milk (plus a touch of organic heavy whipping cream, just in case), and 3 tablespoons of cocoa powder. It seems awfully thin, but since I'd never made them before, I had nothing to compare it to.

I greased up my saute pan with a touch of butter, then poured the 1/4 cup of batter in. I could see teeny bits of dark from the unwhisked cocoa powder, and touches of unwhisked flour, but oh well - the recipe said small lumps were okay. I waited with my blue rubber spatula in my hand, for the edges to start to curl - there they were, curling. It was like magic to me. So I slid my spatula under one side of the crepe and tried to loosen it from the bottom of the pan. Paula said it only takes 30 seconds to cook, and I was pretty sure it had been 30 seconds already. Rats - the crepe kept ripping every time I tried to flip it. Steve came in, grabbed our big honking gray spatula and expertly flipped the crepe over. It held together - I was amazed.

"Now you'll just have to stand here while I do all the rest," I told him. He smiled and left the kitchen.

Really, now what was I supposed to do? I flipped the first crepe, albeit with a couple of good-sized rips, onto the plate and dipped the 1/4 cup measuring cup into the batter to start again. I found that I didn't need to keep oiling the pan, what with 6 tablespoons of melted butter in the batter (those crazy French). Now I found my rhythm - I waited until the edges curled, ran my blue spatula all around the edge, shook the pan a little until the crepe moved, then used the big gray spatula to turn it over. 10 beautiful crepes later, and I was dancing around the kitchen. I don't know if it was because they were so perfectly beautiful, or if it was because I had accomplished one of my goals, or if I was craving carbs. I don't care - I was happy. I got out the red plastic scoop and filled it with powdered sugar, powdered a crepe, rolled it up, and brought it, warm, to Bill. He dutifully ate it, but declared it kind of blah-tasting. Steve, too. I thought it was heavenly, and I DO recognized that you're supposed to actually FILL the crepes with something - that's the nature of crepes - to be the vehicle through which the rest of the culinary dish is carried, kind of like tortillas or lettuce.

Standing in the kitchen washing up the saute pan, the phone rang. It was my friend Kim from Mayville, the one who's going to walk the half marathon with me. We've got matching t-shirts that read "Wild Women Walking" on the front, with our names on the back. Man, we're going to look hot come the middle of May. When I'd first asked her to join me in the half marathon, she told me she'd walked the Avon 3 Day 60 mile walk last year, and had loved it. I told her I'D wanted to do that last year, but hadn't known anyone. She said it was too late to start training and raising funds for this year, but we promised each other we'd do it NEXT year. But her phone call last night told a different story.

"I have a friend up here who had breast cancer 15 years ago," she told me. "Now it's back. I want to walk. Will you walk with me?"

Call me crazy, blame it on the chocolate crepes, but I instantly said yes, and we both started crying a little, relieved, scared, sad, happy, determined. Train to walk 60 miles in 3 days? Will my knees and back and hips take it? Will I have enough time? Can I raise the $2200 necessary to enter?

You know what? I don't know the answers to any of those questions. All I know is that life is short, and you have to grab it by the horns (or other body parts) and hang on and just go for it. Whether it's learning how to make crepes, or walking a half marathon, or walking 60 miles, or running for Public Service Commissioner (and giving up everything to help someone do it) - life is a hands-on sport, it's a contact sport, and I've been resting on the sidelines for too long. NO MORE. I'm present, I'm here, and I'm going to be kicking some life butt and taking names. Just watch me. Wait - don't just watch me - kick your OWN life butt... and take names.

love me tender

Relationships. It doesn't matter if they're with your parents, your kids, your friends, business associates, husbands or wives. We're all in relationships. And sometimes we take them for granted. Sometimes we aren't very kind. Sometimes we yell. Sometimes we hit. Sometimes we leave. I got it twice today, this relationship stuff, and it came from two different arenas. One was a story that makes me cry just thinking about it, of an alcoholic and his wife, and the pain he's caused her. Steve says we forgive, because the man's trying not to be like that anymore, and he's wiser than I am about this, because he's walked the walk for 25 years. But me? I ask my husband, "So what if he starts drinking again and beats the crap out of his wife again? Do you forgive him again?" I have to take a deep breath.

Then I get a call from a friend who knows someone who's on their third marriage. He started out nicely enough (again), but now that things are stressful, he's starting to take it out on his wife. I know her - she's so sweet, really quiet, just takes what she gets. My friend wants to do an intervention - I feel sorry for the wife. Steve's in the back room watching TV. I stand in the doorway and ask him if he loves me.

"Yes," he says, smiling that beautiful smile at me.

"Am I a good person?" I ask, needily.

"Yes, you're a good sh**," he says (that's a great compliment, trust me).

"Are you glad you married me? Am I good to you?" I ask so many questions.

"Yes, very glad, and I'll never leave you," he adds for good measure (he's SUCH a good boy).

Where does this come from, I wonder, with tears in my eyes? This sudden realization that things could be a lot, LOT worse, and I don't always appreciate or realize how good I've got it with this smart, sweet, loving man that I share my life with. And why do I even think I NEED to think about it? Well, because I think about EVERYTHING, especially when I feel it, right, BAM, in my gut, right above my belly button. The tenderness of family, the trust, how we can positively screw up our children by making them witness our stupidity. How we get the valuable opportunity of being gentle in every encounter, being patient and kind, and how I think of how most of the time I am those things (I hope), but sometimes I am not, and that makes me sad. I don't drink, I don't hit people, but I most certainly take things out on Steve and Billy sometimes. Usually, though, I try just to stay away and be silent, so I don't do or say anything hurtful, until I can get rested, or calm down.

So I'm curious as to why I'm so angry at these two men I've heard about today, and I know it isn't always men, but a lot of time it seems to be them, and the women are the quieter ones trying to smooth things over, make them work, and I think Steve and I are equals in that regard - he lets me do my crazy stuff, but doesn't let me go totally over the edge. He gently reels me back in by asking pointed questions, challenging me. And I support him. I love him, I do, and it's really good. So today in the sun and the warmth, I am thinking about love, and about why we choose to stay with the people we stay with, even if they hurt us. And I have trust that everyone will leave when they need to leave, knowing they are strong enough, and worth enough, to be treated with respect and consideration, and above all, to be loved very tenderly.

investments

We've talked about buying land in Montana for years now - somewhere south of Missoula, somewhere pretty. Steve's brother is a realtor in Montana, so he's been keeping his eye on the market for us. When he called to tell us about the 14 acres in the BItterroot Valley, and the price (ridiculously low), we sat up a little straighter. So the thought now becomes - do we take advantage of this sudden opportunity to buy our dream land?

We aren't looking to turn around and sell it for a profit - we want to build on it and have a place to go to every year. Let me tell you about it - it's on the Bitterroot River, there's a stream running through it (hey - "A River Runs Through It" - only 400 miles east of this place), and a pond on the property. There are pine trees and mountains, and it looks positively dreamy from the pictures. Steve calls it "boy heaven." Billy doesn't know what that means, but I do. There's a boy heaven close to Moorhead, a secret little tuckaway alongside a slowly moving stream, surrounded by trees. You can just lay in the 4 inch deep running water, or swim in the 4 feet of water to the other side. You can catch frogs or look at plants. The feminist in me says, "Hey - boy heaven? How about girl heaven? Or kid heaven?" But I understand his logic. He has an older brother - they used to go out exploring all day long, doing that traditionally boy stuff in Miles City. He doesn't mean to be sexist - he's just feeling that juicy feeling of nature and the possible. And besides, my man is nothing less than a full-fledged GUY.

So we signed the papers this morning. It makes me nervous, but then again, pledging amounts of money always makes me nervous, even if I know it's a sound investment, and even if it's what I want to be doing. The conservative side tells me to keep the money in my portfolio, even if the people in charge of the portfolio are losing me a ton of money. I don't know a lot about real estate. But I kind of know Montana, and I know that land is getting bought up very fast by the Californians, and especially around the Bitterroot Valley. It's so beautiful down there. When we go I'll take pictures. We've got our RV and our Rice Krispie bars (okay, maybe our granola bars), and we're ready to travel in a few months.

So the question then could become: what do we invest in? Our time, our money, our energy. What's important to us? How do we determine what's important to us? Sometimes I just DO stuff without thinking about it, and that's probably not always such a good idea, either. I could be more conscious, more aware, more purposeful. Like right now - I'm still in my jammies (give me a break - it's only 8:45), but soon I will get up and have 1 1/2 hours until my first client of the day. How will I fill that time? I could needlepoint (Mom gave me 5 beautiful needlepoint pieces to do that she couldn't finish because of her macular degeneration - I used to needlepoint all the time, so don't think I'm a nerd - okay, so maybe I AM a nerd), I could finish writing Steve's postcard and letter information, I could work on next week's column, I could read, I could rest (I'm still feeling kinda crappy), but I really don't know at this moment. I may just sit here and think about what's important to me, what are my priorities, what I invest in. And occasionally sneak a peek at the pictures of our "boy heaven" that Jimmy sent. And dream.

inside and out

Generally, typically, and most of the time, Susie, it's those who consider themselves to be the least spiritually mature who are the most, and vice versa.
Holy cow,
The Universe

That's the thought of the day from the Universe (found on tut.com - check it out), and it's got me thinking about so many things. I'm thinking about Client Number 9 and the 22 year old call girl. I'm thinking about what CN9 stood for, how others were angered at his high and mightiness when it came to ethics. I'm thinking about the $80,000 he spent on call girls last year, I'm thinking about his wife, standing by his side looking tired and in shock. I'm thinking about the 22 year old girl's mother (I have a 22 year old, so the mother and I are probably close to the same age). I'm thinking about the energy behind standing on a soapbox and telling everybody about how holy and spiritual and good you are. I'm thinking about the hundreds (maybe thousands) of clients I've spoken with that don't think they're as spiritual as other people for any number of reasons, only to have me tell them ALL of the beautiful ways they ARE highly spiritual (one of them being what I call practical spirituality - it's more important to just LIVE your spirituality than to talk about it or convince others of how spiritual you are). So I sit here this morning thinking about karma - it was even the point of one of Bill's cartoons last night, as the poor boy refused to give $3 to a save-the-kitty fund, and all sorts of horrible stuff kept happening to him. His friend explained karma to him like this: "You do something bad, something bad happens to you. You do something good, and something good happens to you." I don't know if it's that simple, but I DO believe in the concept of karma as a universal balancing phenomenon. If you lean too far too the right, the left HAS to come at you to help you return to the middle again.

How am I hypocritical in my own life? Do I spend time TELLING others about how spiritual I am, rather than just living it? Do I act like I'm spiritual, then do mean things behind closed doors? (Okay, for the record - the other night I was TIRED when I said that thing to Steve - you'd understand if you were there) I sincerely try to walk that middle road between listening to what I'm saying and weighing it against my actions. I think the Universe just bites you in the butt otherwise, and I've had that happen plenty of times to know it's true for me. So the Universe says, "those who are the most spiritual are those who don't consider themselves to be, and vice versa." They're the ones down in the trenches, just doing it, while others are speaking ABOUT it. I remember hearing from a VERY wealthy person once that a friend of hers had just lost her husband to a really sad disease (okay, I guess they're ALL sad, but the fact that he died was sad, I guess). Then she found out she had to have all of her teeth worked on for some reason, and it would cost thousands of dollars. This wealthy friend then proceeded to tell me about how brave her friend was, and how faithful, and how she prayed and never lost her faith, and all I could think of was, "You've got millions of dollars - why don't you just PAY for your friend's teeth?" because that's what I would've done. Now I border on that soapbox thing as I say that I've anonymously sent several friends money for things over the years, without any expectation of being paid back. A friend needed a procedure to find out why she couldn't get pregnant, another, well, I can't write anymore because they're all current friends, then they'd know it was me, and that kind of negates the anonymity concept, doesn't it?

It doesn't matter, none of this really matters, except that it's brought up to me over and over again, so I'm paying attention. This concept of karma and balancing our insides with our outsides, making sure we're conscientious enough to keep them relatively balanced. It's only when they get unbalanced that the Universe seems to sweep in and bring the balance, no matter the consequences. And if we've let it go on too long, this imbalance, the more people seem to get hurt, and the harsher the outcome. I don't especially like those times, so I'm thinking about all of that today. Today I want to let go of expectations, resentments, past hurts and memories ("Why should I help when they never helped me?" kind of thoughts), and ask myself this: "Who am I today? Who am I right now? Am I living who I am and say I am right now?" That may be a good Secret to hear and think about. And I'm sending love to Client Number 9, and his wife, and the 22 year old girl, and anybody else affected by this difficult karmic event.

hopes and dreams

Interesting - I answered a question last week about a 22 year old feeling aimless and drifting, then received an e-mail from an older woman asking for clarification on the same issue, then read an article in this month's "Body and Soul" that talked about the exact same thing. What I thought was fascinating was that the article recommended to do almost exactly what I told the reader to do in my column. What was that? Remember what you loved to do when you were a child, and how fearless and full of possibility you felt, then make a current list to draw inspiration from. I sort of do that - what I do is make a short list of little, medium, AND big things, then work on at least one from each category at the same time. So my big thing is training to walk the half marathon. It gets me up in the morning, and out to Concordia or the Y, it revs me up and is helping my butt look better (not that that's why I'm doing it, but still...). I've got my list of books I'm working my way through (I'm almost done with "Three Cups of Tea" and am ready to start "The Spectrum Diet" by Dean Ornish). I'm still researching how best to learn Italian (that's a really big one), as well as how to make crepes and the perfect pie crust (I've been working on that for at least 15 years, if anyone has any helpful hints, I'd be grateful to hear them).

I'm not feeling so scattered today, but am still feeling like there is a LOT of work to be done, combining my care of Bill AND being Steve's campaign manager, but I must say, I'm pretty good at it, and that's really teaching me a lot about myself, AND it's fun. It's ALL fun, really, just a lot. The alarm clock woke me up this morning just as I was slam dunking a basketball during an important game. I told Billy that, and he didn't quite grasp the importance of that dream. You see, I used to play basketball, so the fact that that image comes up in dreams is not surprising. For the past 10 years, however, I could never play basketball in my dreams. I would forget my shoes, or my uniform, or I'd quit the team, or I was out of shape, or I couldn't catch the ball, or run, or run in slow motion - you get the idea. So the very fact that I jumped up for a rebound, flew through the air, and slammed that ball right into the rim like an NBA player really meant something in my life. What? I'm not fully sure yet, but I'm excited to find out.

So I will use this blog to post my list of dreams today. I'll start it and add to it as I go. I think I need to remember and focus on some of those things again, as life gets real, well, life-like sometimes. So, here goes:

Susie's List of Dreams (the short AND long of it)
1. Learn Italian
2. Go to England, Spain, France, Austria, Switzerland, Germany and Italy in one long 3 week trip
3. Go to Andy Weil's ranch in Arizona
4. Go to Miravel Spa (maybe study with Wyatt for the Equine Experience, too)
5. Go to Mount Shasta
6. Write my memoirs
7. Write my young adult spiritual series books
8. Be on Oprah (or if she's not around, some other similar talk show)
9. Meet Stephen Colbert (maybe give him a hug or handshake)
10.Meet Stephen King (don't ask why - I just want to, okay?)
11. Have a huge organic garden
12. Learn to can
13. Become an elected official
14. Get every second grader in North Dakota a book
15. Meet the Dali Lama
16. Do walking meditation with Thich Nat Hanh
17. Swim with a dolphin
18. Get really buff arms
19. Volunteer at Hospice again
20. Serve at Churches United for the Homeless on a regular basis

Okay - that's a longer list, but I'll keep going, I promise. It's a good start, these hopes and dreams.

Happy birthday to you

Mom turned 86 yesterday. It's amazing, a miracle, who would've thunk? Not us. She saw her doctor a few days ago, and he said she FAR exceeded his expectations for life expectancy on this new drug. We almost lost her 9 months ago - the time it takes to grow a new baby - that's how much longer we've had her with us on this physical plane. She tries to figure out the greater Purpose, but I don't think that's possible. I think you just have to be grateful and walk on, which she does. Every morning she wakes up and is grateful for another day.

Do I do the same thing? Not now - I wake up with my long "to-do" list for Steve's campaign, and I put my nose down and get to work. Poor Steve - I worked 5 hours on his stuff yesterday, putting everything else in my life aside until after April 1st. It's okay that I do it, I'm committed to helping him, but when I asked him if he'd made calls to delegates, he said no. He has over 700 to call, and only 50 called. He doesn't feel well. I woke up nauseous yesterday morning, and it continues this morning. No morning sickness jokes, please - it's mildly insulting. Melissa and Bill feel queasy, as well. Part of this "in a new energy place" integration sort of thing, but it feels like I'm car sick or air sick - not a pleasant feeling.

I slept deeply, but after 10 1/2 hours, am still tired. So, no, it's not easy to just stay in that relaxed, happy state when I need to make sure I'm on task to get that next letter out. We need help - it's just he and I, and that's okay for now, but after he gets the nomination, we've got to get help. I can't do it - I've got Dad's book and my own work. I wonder if I'll ever do any work that's so important in Steve's eyes that he'd give up his own work for a while to help me with mine. I don't know. I just know that I did it for him, and that's all I can do.

I started this blog happy, but now I'm starting to feel crabby (I typed "cabby" - heck, maybe I'm feeling cabby as well). My tummy hurts, and I've got to write my column and Steve's letter before I go walking and see my clients for the day. Sometimes I just want to hang and drink peppermint tea. I want to feel the grace that Mom feels, without feeling the constraints that her life presents to her right now. I love my mom - I'm so grateful she's still alive, and I'm grateful that she lived to see her 86th birthday. She's outlived her mother by 6 years, and her father by 15. That's pretty good, Mom, pretty good.

drugs drugs everywhere and not a drop to drink

I'm not surprised, are you? 41 million people affected by pharmaceuticals found in drinking water? I'd heard about that years ago, when studies were done to find out why young girls were getting their periods sooner, developing sooner, and getting cancers sooner. Birth control pill hormones excreted into the toilets. I'm not scared, just convinced now, and I'm glad to see that other people are actually looking into it. We can't keep on going like this. I trace it all back to one truth that I'm positively sure of - we cannot do anything that isn't 100% natural. We shouldn't eat it, put it on our body, put it in our water or air or land.

But if we attempt to define "natural" we can get in trouble, so let me try to clarify. As much in its natural state as possible. If it's dug up from the earth, or plucked from a tree. We eat as close to live food as possible, not something sitting in a box on a shelf for 4 years, designed to let it be ABLE to sit for years without spoiling, hence all the preservatives. But I digress.

Pharmaceuticals - I have a headache - I pop an aspirin. I have high cholesterol. I don't need to exercise or watch my weight, or watch what I eat, I just need lipitor. I have heart problems, diabetes, restless leg syndrome, anxiety, depression, arthritis, chronic fatigue syndrome. There are pills for absolutely everything. Now walk into a health food store and look at the shelves. Rows and rows of supplements and homeopathic solutions, healthy food and reference books. Bill had a screaming (emphasis on the screaming) ear ache. Swanson's had white willow bark garlic oil that I heated up and put 3 drops into each ear. He immediately stopped screaming - ear ache gone. He had a sore throat - I gave him honey and lemon and a dehumidifier - sore throat gone. We're a people of quick fixes - now now now, and it's poisoning us. I'm not melodramatic (though I know I can be) - I'm being truthful. Mom is now on 165 pills a week, albeit some of them are supplements. But that's just too much. We're treating one part of our bodies, then another, until all we are are pieces taking pills. What happened to the whole person? That's why I love naturopathic medicine so much - they treat the WHOLE system, not just parts. The theory is that our body is uber-intelligent, and given our support, will take care of us just fine. "Medicines" don't heal or cure, they just mask and shut up our body's mechanisms, block them from doing their work, shut them down. And I believe that.

So we're slowing shutting down our bodies by inhibiting them from doing their work. We're not asking, "How can I help you today?" We're saying "Shut up and get back to work - I don't want to hear any bitching from you," and we pop an aspirin. I had a really tough headache the other day, and I thought, "in past years I would've taken a Tylenol for it," but I realized I hadn't taken any OTC's in over 2 years, and no meds (except for one that I quit 1 1/2 years ago) for almost 5 years. I wasn't about to start. Instead, I took some deep breaths, moved into my headache, moved into my head, sat with it, felt what it felt like, massaged my temples and my whole head, realized I was under some stress, apologized to my head, then just stayed in my body. Mary Struck once told me that we judge our pains by saying they're bad. Why not just accept and acknowledge that we feel all sorts of different ways, and that not one way is better than another? When we do that, we're judging, and it seems to make it worse. So I do that, and the dialogue goes something like this:

"I'm feeling achey and hot right now - my throat is sore - I feel tired."

That's it. Now, "YUCK - I'm sick - I feel horrible - I need to feel better."

This is the way I feel now. Later I'll feel differently. Now, what about people with REAL problems? Severe heart problems? Bad diabetes? Am I saying to not give them meds? One of the things I'm passionate about is education, and including exercise, nutrition and alternative help for ALL medical "problems." I think most "problems" are CAUSED, or at least exacerbated, by unhealthy lifestyles. It's never too late - high fructose corn syrup, excess salt, white flours, inactivity, stress. Heck - just eliminating those as much as possible will improve your life immensely.

It's not too late, but gosh, I hate hearing about about these drugs in our water - it's sad to me. If it affects us (and I know it does), what's it doing to the rest of the wildlife? Sigh. So that's my thoughts for the day. NO MORE DRUGS. Hugs and snugs.

Sunday dinner

We invited my niece Rachel over for dinner tonight - homemade pork eggrolls, sweet and sour sauce (the thick kind with pineapple chunks in it), and fried rice. Then Steve informed me he'd be in Tuttle speaking. No worries, I thought, we'll still have Rachel over - it will be fun - just the four of us. Then Rachel e-mailed - she's sick, and can't come to dinner. No worries, I thought, we'll still have the three of us. So I cooked the onions, added the pork, then the oyster sauce, cabbage, carrots, bean sprouts and water chestnuts. I tried something new this time - I drained the whole batch in a colander to get the excess moisture out, then stored it out in the garage to cool it down a touch before I put the rolls together. The other times I think the insides were too hot, and the steam cut open the wrappers. I put the brown rice on to cook, cut up the green onions for the rice, got the eggs out, and assembled the plate and paper towels to stack the rolls.

I put the cornstarchy wrapper on the plate, then spooned a big glop of the mix into the middle. I wet my finger with cornstarch mixed with water and ran it along the whole outside edge, then wrapped the eggroll like a diaper. One down, 26 to go. I put a whole big bottle of canola oil on to heat to 350 degrees, careful to tell Bill to stay out of the kitchen for a while. That high heated oil really makes me nervous. I could cook 9 rolls at a time, pausing to scramble the eggs for the rice and let Rusty in from outside. I tented the rolls with foil to keep them warm, then mixed the scrambled eggs, green onions, bean sprouts and tamari sauce into the rice and stirred it all around. I made a double batch of everything but the sweet and sour sauce - I QUADRUPLED that (don't ask me why - I don't know). I put the sauce into a two-cup measuring cup and put it on the table, set it with three plates, three spoons, and three cups. Just Erik, Bill and me - that's a cozy Sunday dinner, isn't it? With all 27 rolls done, I dished us up, then called Bill to the table. We sat for a minute or two, waiting for Erik. But he didn't come. Finally, we ate without him. Just the two of us.

"That wasn't a very good Sunday dinner, " Bill said kind of sadly when we were done.

"Oh, I think it was," I replied. "Any time you and I are together is a party and a half."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Bill said, "Only I wish Dad were here, and Rachel, and Erik."

"Yeah, that would've been nice," I said, "but sometimes things are different, and that's okay, too, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I suppose it is," Bill said, taking another bite of his eggroll.

let there be peace on earth

and let it begin with me. I drove home from Minneapolis just in time to drive over to Concordia and hear Greg Mortenson speak. He's the subject of "Three Cups of Tea," which has been number one on New York Time's Bestseller list for I think 51 weeks or so. An amazing book - I am humbled, awed, and inspired, to say the least. I had to sit WAY in the back, as I got there late (too late to have him sign a book for Dad, who really wanted to come, but couldn't leave Mom), and by the time it was over and we made our way out, there was already a throng of people around him, so I didn't think I could go meet him then, either.

He was a shy man, a quiet man, and totally didn't look like the type of man that would have done all the things he's done - climbing Mount Kilaminjaro at age 11, building 65 schools in Pakistan and Afghanistan, getting kidnapped for 8 days, getting interrogated by the CIA, and on it goes. He lives in Bozeman with his wife and two children, so hopefully we'll get the chance to pop in and say hey the next time we're on our way to Missoula.

His whole point is that education will end the hatred and violence, and especially education of girls, because they're the ones that raise the children to become peaceful, they're the one that can encourage compassion and acceptance. And I agree. It all makes me feel like I'm not doing enough in my life to make a difference in the world. Mags and I were talking about that this morning - how we feel like we're treading water, not getting enough (or anything) done, of feeling stagnant. Maybe we have too high expectations for our lives? Maybe what we think is important really isn't that important, and we need to sit down and do some re-evaluating? Maybe it's time just to rest for a while and not run around wildly so much? I don't know. I know that raising Bill takes a lot of time and energy, as does raising the rest of the kids, for that matter. No matter how old they are, they're still your kids. And I know that being Steve's campaign manager is taking up a lot of my energy, as well as helping Mom and Dad. But when I think about all of the things I want to do, and am not doing, I wonder if that's a good thing.

Then I think that all of these things that are taking my time and energy have a time limit to them. And everything continues to change and evolve. Nothing is the same today as it will be tomorrow, I know that from experience. So why do I feel this deep frustration that I'm supposed to be doing something more than I'm doing right now, and I don't know what that is. So I suppose the only thing I can do is surrender to the Greater, and just say this simple prayer: "Use me as you think best. Show me the way that I should walk. Give me direction and energy for my greater Work. I will wait patiently."

So, patiently (well, sort of) I sit here today, looking around at my cluttered and messy house, thinking I should clean, tidy up, make things perfect, but feeling tired after my travels, only wanting to rest, but still feeling restless, restless. If Greg Mortenson can travel halfway around the world and build 65 schools, what in the heck am I doing? I don't know. But until I DO know, I'll strive to remain peaceful about it all, until I get my next assignment.

Rest

It's supposed to be another day of rest in my half marathon training, but I went to Concordia and decided to walk the bigger track. I called my sister, and we talked for an hour. I logged almost 10,000 steps just from that - some rest, I'm thinking. The beef stroganoff smelled delicious in the crock pot when I walked in the door, but it seemed as if I swandived from one thing to the next all day, not stopping until right now, at 7:36PM. I'm not complaining, I'm just amazed and slightly dizzy as I look at everything I'm supposed to be doing, and don't have the energy to do. I don't know how others do it, with too much on their plates. Melissa says I'm doing too much, but it's okay - I love being busy.

Bill's a townskid in the Missoula Children's Theatre's production of the Pied Piper. Although he doesn't get to take a script home, he does have speaking lines. He's pretty fired up. He'll miss basketball on Saturday, though, and was sad about that. Steve's website is up and running (thanks, Phil), so check it out at www.steverisher.com. What am I feeling today? Tired right now, wanting to put my jammies on, and cuddle with Bill, so that's the next step. Am I worried about anything at this moment? Nope - I'm drifting in this lovely place of no-worries that I usually manage to stay in most of the time. Why bother when there's not much you can do about anything until it comes up in front of you. How will you know how you'll feel about something? When my mom dies? When Steve gets the PSC party's nomination? When I'm sitting in the dentist's chair? When I go to sleep tonight?

Speaking of, STRANGE dreams lately. Anyone feeling it? Wow - like they're real, but so odd that as soon as you wake up, you go, "Whoooo - that was weird." I can't even remember last night's dreams, but I DO remember that they WERE weird. Good times. I AM having a little difficulty getting clients scheduled for appointments, like I don't know if I'll be in town and available, or I'll have to ditch out to Bismarck and have to re-schedule. What to do? I have no idea, seriously - I keep reinventing my life, so I guess I shouldn't expect myself to be too predictable at any point. That's pretty boring in my book, anyway. Keep it all fresh. I'm rambling, which is how my head feels about now, so it's off to jammyland and a little cuddle time. I can't wait to hear what happens to Molly Moon and her hypnotism book (the book Bill and I are reading right now). Sweet dreams, not odd dreams, to you.

okra

"I've known your parents for 26 years," she said as we stood side by side at the island, me chopping up a carrot, her, an onion.

She slid them into the frying pan and added a little olive oil.

"I was working as a waitress at a restaurant, and your father and his friends would come in all of the time. I would get so excited when they'd come because they were so nice to me."

I rinsed the celery under the tap, while she diced the garlic sprinkled with dried dill.

"Then they left for Florida, and we were so sad," she said. "They stayed away for a year, but then they came back. By that time I had quit waitressing, had gone back to school, and was now working at the hospital. That was where we saw your mom again. I called my husband, and we were so excited."

She put the cut up celery and garlic into the pan, along with some peeled zucchini and cut up blanched tomato. She closed the lid and turned to me. I was sitting on a chair across from her.

"They are our family. We don't get back to Africa very often. Your parents..." she said.

My eyes teared up.

"They are SUCH good people," I whispered to her.

She took my hands, tears in her eyes, and we just sat there holding hands for a while.

She smiled at me, her brown eyes crinkling up just a touch around the edges, and slipped the okra into the pan and closed the lid again.

outraged, incensed, furious

For any of you that may be under the mistaken notion that I don't get mad, or get riled up about things, check out the latest recommendation on flu vaccinations. Now they are recommending them for children ages 6 months through 18 years old. Even though this past season's shots were almost 100% ineffective against the strains. People get sick FROM the shots, most of them contain mercury, and sure as h*** nobody is going to tell ME what I have to do in regards to my son's health. I was so riled up this morning when I read the report that I started pacing around the house. Steve was upset, too, but was more amazed at my vehement response to the recommendation.

So I sit quietly and see what this means for me, because it's only when we have a strong reaction to something that there's something juicy in there for us. So I sit - what kind of people push their beliefs and opinions on everyone else, scaring them, threatening them, lying to them? Narrow-minded people, weak people (the panel is probably getting pushed from the pharmaceutical companies to produce more drugs to sell). Am I ever narrow-minded and weak? Heck yeah - I'm being narrow-minded right NOW against those people that came out with the recommendations. Weak - that goes without saying, and I'm not ashamed of that. What else? I used to be one of those weak, sheep-like people that just blindly listened (and believed) what doctors and the drug people were telling me. "If you have high blood pressure, take this pill. If you have high cholesterol, take this pill. If you have diabetes, take this pill. If you have insomnia, take this pill." If you have liver problems, it's probably BECAUSE you took those pills.

WAKE UP, I want to scream to everyone - eat healthy, get exercise, de-stress (okay, so I'm stressing about this, which isn't so good), drink lots of water, be happy, do what you want to do, hug a puppy, be moderate, take vitamins. Try everything ELSE other than pills, because once you start that slippery slope, you end up taking 200 pills a week, and sick sick sick.

Flu shots? Prove to me that they work. Prove to me that they don't contain mercury. Prove to me that injecting me with the very poison we're trying to prevent is a smart idea. Where's the proof? The very people they're targeting (children and elderly) are the very ones that are the MOST susceptible to the side effects of the flu (okay, I'm probably not quoting that correctly, but I know that people get very sick from the flu shots - my parents included). I have only gotten it one year, about 7 years ago, and it didn't help one bit. Besides, none of us have gotten sick in over 3 years - why get scared? If you've got a good immune system, you're good to go. But what about those who work with lots of people, or daycares? I don't know what to tell you about those situations, but my instincts still tell me that if you're healthy, you don't get sick.

What do you think? Please let me know - comment here, and let's start a discussion going. Okay, I'm a little calmer now, and about to head out to Bismarck, driving crosswise to the snowfall, but at least Steve's tandeming with me so I won't feel so all alone. Or narrow-minded or weak. Anyway, it's interesting to feel those strong emotions and trace them to Source to see what they're about. It appears I'll have to do a little more work, because it still riles me. It's just not fair (is life supposed to be fair? I certainly keep praying it will be).

Day Three - easy walk 30 minutes

I haven't figured out which one is slower - the easy walk or the stroll. Any thoughts? It doesn't really matter, as I strapped on the ol' iPod and hit the Y again. The track is much smaller than at Concordia, but I can go there right after I drop Bill off at school, so I can get a jump on my day. I slept in until 5AM (what in the world is going on?), so am a tad tired right now, at 3:33PM. But the good news is that I've logged in 7968 steps so far - not too shabby, as my dad would say. I walked to three rounds of "Talk Dirty to Me," and even sang the words, until the two guys at the weight machines looked at me just a little too intensely ("lock the cellar door, and baby - talk dirty to me" - ah, does it get any better than that? I think not...)

I put the German Short Ribs in the crockpot, then mixed up the triple batch of meatballs and tomato sauce. The double batch of piquant meatloaf is ready to go, but I don't have any sage, or disposable foil containers to put it all in, so I've got to wait until Steve gets home from coffee with the boys. That's okay. I'm wondering if I'm on stress overload, hence the insomnia, or whether it's just an energy thing - probably a little of both. The sun is shining beautifully, and I'm feeling fit as a fiddle (however fit fiddles may be). I leave for Bismarck tomorrow to be with Mom and Dad (hence the mega-cooking), but I'll actually crockpot some Boston Brown Bread when I'm there because Mom said she used to eat it as a child. I think anything I can do to make them happy is well worth it. I already made and froze Grandma Ekberg's gingersnap cookies, and Granny Meyer's oatmeal cookies, so I think it's mega-cooler time, don't you?

How am I feeling today? Crabby. I can't get my lists to work on AOL, and I find myself swearing, using words I don't normally use (well, sometimes I do, but not with much frequency). It's just that when I'm doing things to help everyone else, I'd like to see my time as worthwhile, not thrown out the window in the form of deleted lists - that's just too much. I haven't touched my nutrition textbooks in weeks, much less start on an incredible idea for a young adult book series. Let me just say this much: it involves a little boy finding a golden orb in a field, and when he holds it in his hand, he's transported to this other place that looks much like his current world, but a more "real" place. His "friend" he meets tells him that Earth's in dire danger, and needs help. Fiction? I think not. But that's for another day - first we take care of parents and husbands and children. And we breathe. We remember to breathe.

Day Two - Stroll 30 minutes

Right - NOT. I strapped on my iPod and headed to the YMCA track - 13 laps equal one mile. I didn't wear my pedometer but walked for 45 minutes, or through all 14 of my songs on my playlist. "Venus" is first, then "I'm Too Sexy," and my opinion is that if you can't walk to THOSE songs, well, you maybe just shouldn't be walking. It felt good - my tight chest loosened up. I'm tired of having it freeze up right before I head out to Bismarck. I'm not even very interested in WHY it happens, just interested in NOT having it happen. I'm probably still remembering the trauma of last summer with Mom and almost losing her, but I won't let my fears rule my life - I just won't. So I step out boldly, in SPITE of my fears.

I woke up at 4AM last night, in a panic. Then some creepy thoughts starting, well, creeping in. Awful images and icky scenarios. "Isn't that interesting?" I told myself, "That I'm having these thoughts? They don't even feel like thoughts I'D be thinking. I don't think I'll think those anymore," and eventually got up, typed my High Plains Reader column for the week (which you can now see at www.hpr1.com), watched the end of "To Kill a Mockingbird" (I have a crush big-time on Gregory Peck circa 1960 or so...), unloaded the dishwasher, made Bill's lunch, then kept reading "Three Cups of Tea." Greg Mortenson is going to be at Concordia College a week from Friday for their Peace Forum, so I'm buying tickets for all of us to go hear him. I hope I get to meet him - I'm going to ask if he'd like some of my children's books to ship to any of his schools overseas. Who knows? We can only offer.

It feels good to move my body, good to feel the air in and out of my lungs - I walked a whole song doing breath of fire - breathing in and out as fast as I could through my nose (try it, but keep some tissues nearby - that's a whole lot of snot going on - sorry - visual). Then just took a lap of deep breaths. I know some people think it's boring to go 52 times around a track, but for me it's almost a meditation in and of itself. So I'll go again tomorrow, because I can go early, and hopefully I can sleep tonight - I'm admittedly a touch crabby, but will manage to stay awake long enough to get through "The Biggest Loser" tonight.

Day One - Rest

Okay, well, THAT'S not gonna happen on my watch, but that's what my training schedule says for Day One of training for the half-marathon. I'll have to figure out how to move the days over one or something. So my body was humming this morning, ready to move, so I strapped on my iPod and headed over to Concordia for my morning walk around the track, only there were no cars in the parking lot, and no one in the hallway, and the doors were closed. Sigh. I wanted to move, so I turned around and headed toward the auditorium. Maybe I could walk those hallways. I walked closer and heard music. I walked up the stairs, and saw them - The Concordia Women's Basketball team practicing. I got tears in my eyes - my girls, my team. I walked down the steps and watched them for a couple of minutes. A woman came over to me. "You're Susie Ekberg," she said excitedly. "Yup - and you're Jessica, the coach," I countered.

"We're heading for playoffs tomorrow, and I was just thinking I'd love to have some inspiration for my girls, and there you magically stand," she said.

Well, not so magic, I'm thinking, believing, as I do, that there ARE no coincidences. She asked me to go speak to the girls. I was nervous, but said sure.

When I walked out on the floor, Jessica introduced me, and I was surprised to see them all clapping and cheering - me? An old lady? Wow - that was sweet of them. I told them how important basketball has been in my life, and how the lessons far exceed just the basketball - the most important one perhaps is how to focus on what you REALLY want, and then just totally go for it, with your whole heart and mind and body. Then you are unstoppable. I also told them my biggest secret of basketball, and that is this: when you block a shot, you point your finger at your opponent and yell, "Nosliw." The girls looked confused. So I explained: "Nosliw" is "Wilson" imprinted backwards on their forehead after you block the ball in their face. They started laughing. I wished them luck for their playoff game, then walked away, a little bounce in my step.

I walked outside, back at home, getting in 7000 steps before I go work at the book fair at the school, but this morning? Ah, this morning made my whole week, and it's just begun. What magic - what inspiration - what energy I feel right now. The world is a very very good place, indeed. Not bad for a day of rest.

magic and my man

Here is my sweet man, on his way out to Rugby, the geographical center of North America, I think. Well, I know he's heading to Rugby. He's already traveled all around the state, and his voice is getting stronger. He's already working for North Dakota, dedicated to his work. It's amazing to watch him, or rather, to FEEL his energy. And we're only about halfway through it - what a ride. Who would've thunk I'd love politics so much? What I mean to say is that Steve has always loved politics, but for me, it's sort of like, "Can we REALLY make a difference?" and the resounding answer is YES yes and more yes. So we keep going.

Bill and I drove down the street to Sunday school, and every tree was frosted white. Set against the true blue sky, I couldn't breathe. I said, "If you're not from around here, you just can't appreciate this beauty. You'd never even see it." Bill said, "Yeah, if you aren't from the prairie..." the line from a book he's got, and it's true. While every region has its beauty, this is the land I love - the cold, the wind, the huge skies that stretch forever, the frosted trees and tan grasses in the ditches, the long straight roads that are mainly deserted, the dilapidated barns, the cows. I keep thinking I'd like to leave someday, but I never do - this is my home. And it's magic. I wanted to take a picture of the trees, but we were running late. I doubted they would stay for the hour. Bill thought they would, but when we left the church, we saw thick flakes of white gently dropping off the trees and onto our windshield. Was the magic gone? A few trees clung stubbornly to their frosty beauty, but by the time we pulled up in front of the house, the trees had returned to their bare brown. So I apologize that I can't share the beauty with you, but I can tell you about it, and hope you got to see it, too.

off the track...

They drew me a picture of two parallel lines coming up from the bottom of the page. Then there was a little break, then the lines continued on the other side, but they were not going the same way - they were slightly to the left, and veering off to the left.

"When you make the leap," they told me, "you need to get on track again, but most people's problems is that they think they should be getting back on the SAME track as before, but that track is no longer there. They need to find a NEW track to travel, otherwise, they're moving off-track, and then they crash."

I told them that I had understood the need to leap over to the other side, but not that the tracks had changed, so I thanked them for the valuable information. They told me to pass the word on, so I am. Then I woke up.

Bill had an 8AM basketball game this morning, and it was hard to open my eyes much before 7:30. Even now, as I type, at 10:46, I feel my eyelids heavy, and I want to curl up again. What is it with these nights of deep sleeping, and deep dreaming? There is not much difference between waking and sleeping these days, for me, at least.

I am in an auditorium full to the ceiling with people. "They" are talking to them, have them all brainwashed. The woman next to me whispers, "They're going after the government next - it won't be long." She said she was a lone wolf before she came to the auditorium. I asked her how all of this sits with her, and she replied, "Well, it's inevitable."

But I didn't think it was inevitable, so I got up to leave. I was surprised that the doors were unlocked, but as I walked out into the night, I heard the distant barking of dogs, coming to get me. "God," I whispered, "I am not going to be like that - please protect me so I can continue to be free-thinking and independent." Then I became invisible and could fly, so I escaped from "them." I ended up being housed by a family of the New, they called themselves (as opposed to the Old) - I could tell it was going to be a dangerous existence, but I also knew that I would never go back to the Old. Never. Then I woke up.

What dreams may come? When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause. So I'm pausing today to remember and honor my dreams. And probably to nap.

There's a Buddha in our house

He sits quietly on the red chair, his giant paws folded neatly in front of him. His breath comes in deep purrs that fill his body and the room. I look over at him and he closes his eyes gently and slowly at me and opens them again, acknowledging my adoration. "Buddha" means the awakened one, and that is him. In a world of waking beings, he is already there, fully awake, waiting patiently for us with open paws. He is Jack, and he is our little (or not so little) Buddha Being.

unbelievably beautiful...

"Live. Take risks. That is really what life is about. We must pursue our own happiness. Nobody has ever lived our lives; there are no guidelines. Trust your instincts. accept nothing but the best. But then also look for it carefully. Don't allow it to slip between your fingers. Sometimes, good things come to us in such a quiet fashion. And nothing comes complete. It is what we make of whatever we encounter that determines the outcome. What we choose to see, what we choose to save. And what we choose to remember. Never forget that all the love in your life is there, inside you, always. It can never be taken from you." - Linda Olsson, from "Astrid and Veronika"

It was a full day, or strategerizing (how do you even spell that made-up word? Who knows? Make it up) with K. for Steve's campaign - he's really going to do this thing, I can just FEEL it. And life is flowing, no worries, no fears - all beauty and fullness of being. Isn't that a book? If not, it should be, and maybe I should write it. I have assembled 150 friends from all over the state to be in our "club" (if you want to be in the club, just let me know), and that feels REALLY great - it feels cozy, and loving, and energizing. I love being Steve's campaign manager, not only because I love Steve and believe in what he's going to do for North Dakota, but because I get to organize, and create, and DO. When you believe in something, everything is easier, and clearer, and life is more fun.

So I'm reading, and cooking, and seeing clients, and writing (not enough, but next week...), and enjoying my life, exactly as it is. What a miracle this whole thing is. If you would've asked me even 6 months ago if I would be feeling this today, I would have laughed - of course not - I'm kind of neurotic and obsessive and a worrier, and I can't just let things GO, but that's not who I am today. Well, it's still a PART of me, I'm sure, but it's not the main part anymore. And I like being here - I feel stronger and clearer, and I think I need to feel that way to handle all that's coming up for me. I think that's true for everyone, as change looms huge and unavoidable on the horizon, even if it means we all will be recycling or growing our own vegetables or supporting local businesses or driving hybrids. Forward movement is good, and that forward movement leads us ultimately within. That's where I'm staying, anyway. Firmly within my core, within my own life, within my Being. And what a lovely view...

today I am thinking about...

Indian chicken with lemon slices and fried onions, from www.gardenersgastronomy.blogspot.com, who said it was basically from a Madhur Jaffrey cookbook that the cook has (I want to give credit where credit is due - I'd hate to be accused of plagiarizing). I made it last night for Billy and I, seeing as how Steve was in Beulah eloquently speaking to a group of 70 delegates. I served it with lentils, brown rice, and steamed spinach. It maybe shouldn't have made me as happy as it did, but I can't stop thinking about it. How much fun it was to make it (it only took an hour), how good it smelled, and how good it tasted in my mouth. I don't know if it's me, or if it WAS just the food, but it was a, well, heavenly experience. I want to share it with you, my dear friends:

Indian Chicken with lemon slices and fried onions

Serves 4-6

6-8 chicken pieces
3 medium-size onions
1 inch cube of ginger, peeled and sliced
4 cloves garlic, chopped (or more if you love it like I do)
8 T. olive oil
1 T. ground coriander
1 t. ground cumin
1/2 t. turmeric (good for your memory)
1 T tomato paste
1/2 t. salt (or none if you like)
1/4 t. cinnamon
1/4 t. ground cloves (ahhhhh....)
1/2 t. cayenne pepper
1 whole lemon
freshly ground pepper
2 T yogurt

Peel the onions. Chop two of them into fourths and put them into a food processor. Cut the third one in half lengthwise, then slice it into thin half-rounds and set aside.

Add 6 T. of water, the ginger and the garlic to the onions in the food processor and blend at high speed until you have a smooth paste.

Heat 6 T. of the oil in a pot on medium high. When hot, put in the onions and fry them until they are darkish brown and crisp (not burned). Remove and put in a bowl.

Remove skin from all chicken pieces. Divide legs into drumstick and thigh (if not separated already), and quarter the breasts (if you wish). In the same oil, brown the chicken pieces on all sides until golden brown. Remove them to a bowl.

Add the remaining 2 T. of oil to the pot. Pour in the past from the blender (keep your face averted). Stirring, fry on medium high heat until paste turns a nice golden brown. Put in the coriander, cumin, and turmeric and fry a little more. Add yogurt, a teaspoon at a time, then the tomato paste, stirring all the wile. Finally, add salt, cinnamon, cloves, cayenne pepper, and a pint of water (2 cups). Bring to a boil, cover, lower heat, and simmer gently for 10 minutes.

Cut the lemon into 4 or 5 slices, discarding the end pieces, and remove the seeds. Add lemon slices (it's pretty strong lemony if you add ALL of the slices, so if you're not totally keen on lemon, you might want to add less than the whole), along with the chicken pieces, fried onions, and freshly ground pepper to the sauce; stir, and bring to a boil.

Cover, lower heat, and simmer gently for 20 to 25 minutes or until chicken is tender, turning them every now and then. If the chicken sticks to the bottom of the pot (mine didn't), add a little more water. You will get a very thick sauce.

I served this alongside the brown rice, lentils and steamed spinach, pouring some sauce over the rice. It's incredible - just smelling it will make you happy. I promise.

finding my voice

I'm feeling inspired today by so many things. One of the things I've been keenly aware of lately is the FEELING I get when someone touches my soul, when they inspire me (breathe Spirit into me). Last Saturday's concert at the Fargo Theatre did that to me. We got to sit in the front row and watch these amazing women sing their souls out. I took deep breaths, closed my eyes, and just soaked it all up. Art does that to me. I'm thinking of my beautiful office with Karman's paintings, and Paul Allen's, and Patty Kirk's, and Tara's, and more. It fills me up to look at them, especially Paul's, who's is directly in front of me when I sit in my chair. I don't necessarily "look" at it, but just sit with it and let it work its magic.

That's how I feel when I'm with my friends, too. Maggie, Melissa, oh, you know them all, and they are all lovely. I'm so blessed, like I'm overflowing with good fortune to have you all in my life - how do I get so lucky? When I think of them, or talk to them, or laugh with them, I feel like I'm buoyed up, like I'm floating even higher in my life. The sun is brighter, the air is purer, my head is clearer.

Bill's home from school today, so I'm catching up with Steve's campaign stuff (see the link to "vote" for him online), and just relaxing. I'm not feeling so tired today. Mom's scheduled to go home today (I know, it was supposed to be yesterday, but...). She'd lost 15 pounds of fluid - too much - so they had to hook her up to an IV to replace some of it. Ironic, don't you think? I'm going to be cooking for them all week, then freezing everything and sending it up so Dad will have good, healthy, no-salt food for the next few weeks. I love to cook, I love helping them. I think that's the main reason I'm here this time around - to help in any way I can. It may sound funny to say, but I'm crazy about people - I just love everyone. I love being with people (extreme extravert, I'm thinking), but that's been on my mind a lot, too. I don't know what it means, I'm just thinking about my love for people.

A friend and client told me something the other day that made my whole year. She said that she recommends everyone to me because I've been doing this for so long - I STAY, and I don't have any other agenda other than to help people. Sometimes I think I'm not PUSHING enough - I'm not sending out 10 e-mails to people every week, I'm not setting up a ton of classes or traveling all over the region - I'm not pushing myself for money or clients. But I'm doing it the best way that I know how to do it, and to hear her tell me those things makes me feel comforted - feedback isn't mandatory, but it sure is nice sometimes. Thank you, Karen, for your kind words to me last Friday - they meant the world to me. This world is an unbelievable place of growth and opportunities, and today I'm steeped in those kinds of feelings.

it's been one week...

well, actually one and a HALF weeks since I've had a good night's sleep. Let me clarify: for me, a good night's sleep is at least 10 hours, so in actuality, this averaging 8 hours doesn't sound too bad, but for me, it's sleep deprivation. I even have dark circles under my eyes, and I don't DO dark circles. Symbolism abounds right now. Last night was my first possible night of good sleep. Bill woke up barking at 2AM - croup. One long hot shower, and a few deep breaths out in the cold night air, sleeping until 7:30 when the barking started again. I only know I'm tired when I get crabby. Steve walked toward me, and I quickly said, "You'd better give me a WIDE berth right now." He smartly did. He later came back quietly with his arms out, and I was able to walk into them and hold him tightly. He left for Minot. I was too tired to walk this morning, so decided to run some of Steve's errands instead. I only had 40 minutes, so I drove, um, too fast, and got a speeding ticket. As I sat there waiting for the policeman to walk up to my car, I thought, "I wonder what the symbolism is here?" Um, slow down??? Could be... On one of my errands I ran into the woman I had to call today - that saved me a phone call. Synchronicity.

I had so much fun on Saturday night at the Celebration of Women and Their Arts. Deb gave Maggie and me backstage passes (so we could party like rock stars), and we got to talk with everyone before the show and at "half time" (intermission to theatre people). I saw Laurie and Barbara and Lora and Max and Linda and Gwen. But perhaps the oddest thing of all was Kristin Kitco. Her voice and songwriting skills are amazing (check out her "I'm Not Wal-Mart" song). After the show I was talking with her, and she said, "Are you the one with "Pink Stars and Angel Wings" and all that?" I answered yes. She said, "I was the voice of Kari on the taped version of the book." WHAT? That was in 1992. She's from Chicago. What ARE the odds? Too great to calculate, I'm thinking. Yet there she was, and there I was, 16 years later, in Fargo, North Dakota. So there you go - synchronicities.

Mom's getting out of the hospital today. She's lost a total of 11 pounds of fluid (yay), and her hemoglobin is back up into the 10's. I think she will be with us for a little while longer, and for that I'm always eternally grateful. In fact, even though I feel exhausted today, I'm totally happy. There are no worries - I feel like I'm on a raft, drifting down a river. The current is swift, but not so swift that I'm scared I'll overturn. Just swift enough to get me where I want to go. "Row row row your raft, gently down the stream. Merrily merrily merrily merrily - life is but a dream." But what a dream we're waking up from. It's far more beautiful than the dream that was my life before. Because it's REAL. And why haven't I been sleeping? I don't know, but I sure hope I can sleep tonight... stay tuned.

perspective

They put the bathrobe on Mom, put the pink and blue strap around her waist, position her walker, and she walks, hunched over, carefully shuffling her feet, slowly. She goes further every day. She blows into a machine to keep her lungs clear. She needs help getting her legs into bed. So I notice these things in my own body. I take deep conscious breaths, aware of the air filling and expanding my lungs easily and fully. I roll over onto my side in bed, then back again, then stretch languidly, like a cat. I notice my long, energetic steps, I bounce on my toes, I bend over and stretch. I am fully in my strong, healthy body, and I am aware of it, I notice it, I am grateful for my body. I don't take it for granted, because I look at my beautiful strong mother, and I remember her when I was growing up, and although this is her same body, it does not contain all of her anymore - it is tired, worn out, struggling to keep going, and I know it will not be long - it just can't do it anymore.

So the stark comparison sits on my chest today, and keeps drawing my attention to it - it will not be ignored. "I am here," it whispers. "Appreciate your life," it insists. And I listen, oh, do I listen, because I am living it with my mom - my strong, brave, beautiful, amazing mother who's struggling for every breath right now. The most amazing thing to me is that she keeps her sense of humor, suggesting that the blood doctor donate his kidney to her, because that's the only other alternative to the synthetic hormone they're injecting her with. His eyes got wide, I burst out laughing, then he got the joke, too. Maybe you're not supposed to joke about body organs, but I thought it was hip hop hilarious.

So I'm learning from her - it's not about learning how to die, it's about learning how to be in my body now, how to be fully present and aware and awake, and that is perhaps the most spiritual lesson of them all for me in this. That, and realizing how precious and tenuous life is. When I remember that, then I can be there for her - I can stroke her soft gray hair and run my fingers lightly over her forehead. I hear her murmur "mmmm" and I know it brings her comfort. That's the least I can do.

love

I baked a quadruple batch of heart-shaped Valentine's cookies, part for Bill's class, part for the banquet for Celebration of Women and Their Music. I didn't have time to frost them, and Steve (bless his heart) bought store frosting and frosted them, and put the pink sprinkles on. Bill said, "The kids won't like them - they only like her homemade frosting," and though that probably isn't true, I understand. I wanted to be with my husband and youngest son today. I wanted to cook our traditional chicken and rice dinner, with the cut out heart-shaped red bell peppers. I wanted to bake an organic chocolate cake in little heart shaped pans. I wanted to be with them. But this morning I saw my dad's red eyes, and got a stomach ache. What do you do when you are torn directly in two between two worlds? This world of my mom and dad, 190 miles west of my home, and this world of my home and husband and child? Routine and comfort vs. the hospital and insulin shots and low hemoglobin and "what do we do now?" I don't know. I just felt the two worlds in each of my hands, as if I had a scale, and I looked at them, no, I FELT them, and I knew what I had to do.

So I stay in Bismarck one more night. I will stay at the hospital because Mom's getting a strong iron injection and Dad's worried she might get a reaction. I know Mom's scared. Dad's tired. He slept 11 hours last night, and 4 this afternoon. I'm so glad I can be here for them. It feels sometimes like the whole world is crumbling around me. I see friends in crisis left and right, and yet I am so happy. I continue to feel happy and calm and blissful, and I can't tell you why. The night before I left I was cuddling Bill, and lying on my left side. I had the urge to turn to my right, and as I did, I saw that the time was 11:11, so I chose to walk through that gateway to a higher place of understanding. I said, "I walk through, and I will stay there," and although I have a headache and my body is stiff from sitting in the hospital so long, my insides are full, and everything is all right. I can just FEEL it.

They plan on letting her go home tomorrow, and my sister's flying up from Colorado to be with them until Wednesday. After that, I don't know - Steve's on the road for his campaigning, so it's a little tricky with Bill, but Melissa is a godsend, picking him up from school and hanging (thanks eternally, Missy Pooh). Life is very real right now, and I'm so glad I'm as prepared as I am for all that's unfolding. A few years ago I don't think I'd be feeling the same way that I do right now. And I'm grateful. Again, I'm eternally grateful.

mom

Dad called, and Mom's in the hospital with fluid around her heart. She's having trouble breathing and has chest pains. I'm leaving for Bismarck. Steve's traveling for his campaign, but we're gathering support to help with Bill. Thank you to everyone who's coming to bat right now. We are eternally grateful for your love and support. Steve held me tightly before he left tonight, but I told him it's all right. And I smiled. It really is all right.

movement

I had a hard time waking up this morning. Part of it was that we'd stayed up until after midnight all weekend to spend time with Kari and Brian, but this was a to-the-bone tired that it is usually an energetic thing. So I honored it by going to bed at 9, dragging out of bed at 7:30 - not a math major, but that's 10 1/2 hours of sleep, and I could crawl back again. What's shifting? Part of it is our imbedded ideas of how we think our lives should look. I know I have specific ideas about what should go on in my life, and with the people I'm with. I've probably backed them into a corner, and see them in certain ways. Kari is the _____ one, Erik is the _____ one, Steve is always ________, and on. So I'm rolling my shoulders (they are stiff as well) and thinking about how I see all of the people who are in my life. Have I narrowed my vision of who they are and who they could be? Am I giving them the benefit of the doubt? Am I encouraging them to grow and change? Heck, and I doing that for myself? I don't know the answers to any of these questions today, but it's a perfect morning to ponder all of this, before I strap on my sneakers and start my half-marathon training. I'm even keeping a training log (how cool is that? As cool as North Dakota weather).

Steve is traveling all week, speaking at the local conventions around the state. His speech is killer, and I can feel his energy - it will be great when he's PSC. North Dakota is getting a great guy, and I should know. I can't wait for this weekend, and the Celebration of Women and Their Music. Mags is spending the weekend, and we're going to the show on Saturday. Deb does such a great job - it's the 11th year - hard to believe that Kari and I went the second year, and she was just a little girl (um, math time again - 11 years old). Time is just so... fleeting. What a day what a week what a life.

through the fire and the flame

I'm listening to it right now. I should be in bed, it's 10:35PM, one hour past my bedtime, and I'm tired. But Kari and Brian are here, and they have to leave early tomorrow morning, about the same time Bill and I leave for Sunday School. I'm filled to the brim today - we went to the Kiwanis Pancake Feed, and watched them break the Guinness World Record for the most pancakes served (30,724). They served us four pancakes, two sausages, orange juice (or milk), and all the seconds (and thirds and fourths) we wanted. It was a party, for sure - tv cameras everywhere - MSU Dragons dressed up to volunteer, crooning behind Elizabeth playing live piano music. I ate two pancakes and three sausages, no juice. Then I made egg rolls and fried rice and sweet and sour sauce for dinner, and we quoted "Waiting for Guffman" all during dinner, laughing at our cleverness. I made a Take 2 Video run and rented it, and we watched it, crowded around my Apple because the monitor is so big. That movie only gets better with time - "CORKY." Ah - soothes my heart. I tucked Bill in bed and headed back to Kari's room, where we sit now. I don't want to go to bed. When I wake up tomorrow, she'll be gone.

These times are so precious. She's gone, you know, even though she's HERE right now - I realize she will never LIVE here again in the house - she's grown up, and it felt like a punch to my stomach the first time I realized it. I'm a little used to it, but it's still just so natural for her to be here - it feels like HOME when she's here... then she drives away in her little white Bravada, honking as she rounds the corner, and I stand in the door, watching until I can't see her anymore. But that's sort of what all of life is like - precious little diamonds of coming together, followed by stretches of different combinations - sometimes alone, sometimes with Bill, then Bill and Steve, then Steve alone, then Erik, then my friends, then I'm alone again. It's all right - it's perfect - it's the colors and textures of the tapestry - ever-changing and interesting. But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I could just hold it ALL in my arms and squeeze and keep everybody here with me always. Not possible, I know, improbable, impossible, but still, I think that sometimes, and if I close my eyes and concentrate hard enough, I can FEEL everyone here with me, and that's just perfect.

Do. Be. Do. Be. Do.

It is just that kind of day, when I need to type and write, so I will.

Dear Ones – what a place you find yourselves these days. First you are at the mountaintop, then you are cascading down on the waterfall, then you are swimming, fuzzy, under the water, then you are flying. Is it all so confusing? Or is it exciting? We suggest that it is probably all of the above, as this is the current “trend.” Changing things up – getting used to the possibilities. It is not just the case of “intending the future for your life,” for how in the world could you possibly KNOW all that is possible for your life? You might ask to be moved out of a box you live in, into a small house, when the Future held a beautiful mansion for you? Why in the world would you want to limit yourself? Better yet, we say, to go to your Center, and breathe from that place, opening yourself up to all that is Good in your life, and all that is to come. From that Center. THAT is where your future lies. Not in some book or workshop or presenter or class or theory. That may be all right for some people, but not for you! For you know the Secret – and nobody else knows your Secret, for everyone has their own Secret way to their dreams. What is my dream is certainly not your dream, nor would I have it be. How dull and boring would that be if everyone were President of the United States? Whom then would we all lead? Better to be President of YOUR united STATE.

Dreams are becoming reality, and “reality” is becoming but a dream. So then, what is real? What you decide is real for you. The shadow across your window is either a monster or a tree branch – YOU decide for you, then act accordingly. If you make it a monster, then you will act afraid. If you make it a tree branch, you will admire its stark beauty. IT IS UP TO YOU. Now is the time to bring your “dreams” into your “real” life, for we tell you that dreams are no longer those fantasies relegated to your unfulfilled reality – they are your heart’s longing for total expression and fulfillment. Take a moment to ask yourself what you are dreaming of – it can be anything. Now just SIT in the space of that dream – pull the dream into your consciousness. That’s it. You are only knitting together the seen and unseen, the heretofore impossible with the possible, the unconscious with the conscious. You are a knitter of dreams, taking the potential of the yarn and using your physical energies of the needles to create something of beauty – a unique work of art. Your Spirit is the Pattern, and we tell you, Master Knitter, that you are indeed a Master of Creation, for you are constantly creating your Life every moment, are you not? Look not to the specifics, because they have not been written, nor do they “matter” in this realm of creativity. Look to YOUR life, to YOUR unique energies to provide the map you need to move forward into your life. There is no one out there who can TELL you what you need to do – they may make helpful suggestions, they may walk hand in hand with you and be your support and inspiration, but this is YOUR life, your walk, your journey, your future. Bring it TO you by dwelling in your Home fully – that is all you need do at this time. And enjoy the ride. That will continue for some time as energies even out. That is almost assuredly a fact. How long will you continue to grow and change? How long will the sun continue to shine? How long will the Universe be? How eternal is your Soul? Be well, be strong, be true, be love, be you. Just be.

inspiration

Inspiration means to breathe spirit into, and I am totally immersed in inspiration this morning. I have been moved to tears so many times in these past few days it is not even funny (not that I'd think that WOULD be funny). What has inspired me? The first thing that has inspired me is a guitarist that goes under the name of the John Butler Trio. Here's the link to the song that has inspired me - it's called "Ocean." What moves me so much about John's playing is that I can feel pure Spirit coming from him, and it's the most beautiful thing when that happens - see if you can feel it, too. It's like being Home. And his face - oh, that beautiful face... My sweet son Erik found this for me - thanks, honey, for this - I love you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6VAkOhXIsI0

Barack Obama has inspired me, several times over. For goodness sakes, it's not even about politics anymore for me - it's about saving this country, saving the planet, saving everyone. How can we save anything if we're divided and angry and violent? Thanks to Karsmy for sending the link to this next video that moves me to tears every single time I've watched it (and I've watched it SEVERAL times, along with making all of my children and husband watch it, as well). Again, it's the passion and love that emanates from Barack - he's honorable, he cares, he wants so desperately to make a difference, and he wants to unite us all. Again, I don't give a darn if you're Republican or Democrat - I'm not going to vote for the lesser of two evils if there's an amazing candidate out there. I'm going to vote with my heart. "We are one people. We are one nation." Here are the lyrics, followed by the link:

Lyrics:
It was a creed written into the founding documents that declared the destiny of a nation.

Yes we can.

It was whispered by slaves and abolitionists as they blazed a trail toward freedom.

Yes we can.

It was sung by immigrants as they struck out from distant shores and pioneers who pushed westward against an unforgiving wilderness.

Yes we can.

It was the call of workers who organized; women who reached for the ballots; a President who chose the moon as our new frontier; and a King who took us to the mountaintop and pointed the way to the Promised Land.

Yes we can to justice and equality.

Yes we can to opportunity and prosperity.

Yes we can heal this nation.

Yes we can repair this world.

Yes we can.

We know the battle ahead will be long, but always remember that no matter what obstacles stand in our way, nothing can stand in the way of the power of millions of voices calling for change.

We have been told we cannot do this by a chorus of cynics...they will only grow louder and more dissonant ........... We've been asked to pause for a reality check. We've been warned against offering the people of this nation false hope.

But in the unlikely story that is America, there has never been anything false about hope.

Now the hopes of the little girl who goes to a crumbling school in Dillon are the same as the dreams of the boy who learns on the streets of LA; we will remember that there is something happening in America; that we are not as divided as our politics suggests; that we are one people; we are one nation; and together, we will begin the next great chapter in the American story with three words that will ring from coast to coast; from sea to shining sea --

Yes. We. Can.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BHEO_fG3mm4

Another thing that has inspired me lately is the energy behind the elections. People are becoming interested again - there's PASSION and FIRE. It MATTERS. Even Erik is talking about. He used to think it was a big joke, I think, but I don't think he thinks that anymore. Kari got to stand 20 feet from Hillary when she came to Augsburg to speak - she was so moved. Hillary is a brilliant woman, I agree. And I'm inspired by John McCain having the passion to go for it, at age 71 - heck, WE get tired by 9:30PM, and we're WAY younger than 71. Mitt Romney inspires me with his diligence and persistence.

My sweet husband inspires me. He is running for Public Service Commissioner, and is traveling the state, making phone calls, sending e-mails, having me do work (hah). He is passionate about the office, and is passionate about wind energy, especially (me, too - you'll get two for the price of one on that one when he gets elected, you can bet on it). He's passionate about being a servant of the people. He has integrity. That is my word of the hour - integrity. It comes from the root word which means "whole," and that's what it means, I think. Being a whole person, and operating out of that wholeness, so that our words match our deeds and our thoughts. Our Spirit works WITH our Mind to create an integrated life and vision. My husband has integrity. That inspires me.

So that's it for today - I'm off to help the kids put on their ice skates for gym class, then off to walk at Concordia, then off to run errands. I've been using my early morning minutes to pray, and I love it. I pray for my whole family, one by one, holding them gently in my hands, wishing them the best for their lives. Then I pray for all of my friends, then neighbors, teachers, public officials. I keep expanding my list until I am holding the whole world gently in the palms of my hands. It is precious, and we are so tiny. But we are precious, too. And that is what I love. And that is what inspires me.

i'm right and you're wrong...

"Well, most folks seem to think they're right and you're wrong..."

"They're certainly entitled to think that, and they're entitled to full respect or their opinions," said Atticus, "but before I can live with other folks I've got to live with myself. The one thing that doesn't abide by majority rule is a person's conscience."

That's from "To Kill a Mockingbird," a book I just finished. Surprising, given the fact that I'm an English major and never read it. But it came highly recommended by a respected source (thanks, Mary). That seems to be up a lot right now - opinions, and how to express them respectfully. I got an e-mail from a reader of my column, and she had some pretty strong things to challenge me on. We're currently in an ongoing dialogue about this whole process, and it's fascinating to me. She said that every column felt like it came from a place of love, but this one didn't. She felt that I was attacking her husband, so upon further thought, I suggested that maybe it was because she thought I was attacking her husband that she felt this current column wasn't coming from love. We are all definitely affected by our perspectives and personal issues. They are the lens through which we view the world. If we've been hurt by a dog, then we may see all dogs as vicious, even if they're wagging their tails.

I feel so fabulously great this morning - I walked 6000 steps over at the Arena, then bought my usual decaf skinny latte, and added my own sucanat to keep the chemical content down (it still has the decaf chemicals, but that's better than a racing heart and shaking hands). The sun is shining warmly (even though it's below zero), and again, I'm totally inexplicably happy AND energetic (which I am not always). I washed my book (yes, stuck it in the laundry basket and dumped the whole thing into the washer), so I won't be reading "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy anymore. Bummer - maybe the library has it. It's simply beautiful so far - I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't read - it's my passion. Along with cooking - my root vegetable soup awaits, so I go. Life is deeper, more real, and increasingly more fabulous each day, no matter what actually HAPPENS - it simply is the best thing going for me right now - my life.

a new vision

I don't know how to explain it, but I'm feeling so alive these days. I'm curious about it, so I'm examining it a little. Here's what I think: Jean Eilerman and Christeen McLain were my first mentors, back in the late 1980's. They were the main spiritual leaders here in the area (in my opinion), then Jean moved to California, and Christeen became a little more quiet in her work, then eventually moved to Arizona. Christeen told me she got tired (now I understand what she was talking about). I was passionate about spreading the spiritual word and being a beacon, so I continued with the work of bringing alternatives to the area, since well, the late 80's. I trained over 250 Reiki students, helped 25 people become Reiki Masters, taught countless classes, workshops, gave countless speeches, held gatherings and healing circles, and on. It was great - I loved it.

What I noticed, starting about 3 years ago, was this - many of those who had been clients, or students, or workshop attendees, were now starting to branch out on their own, whether it be practicing Reiki, teaching it, or teaching other classes that they were passionate about. It was somehow "safe" and more acceptable to have different opinions. I really noticed a swelling in the spiritual community, and I was proud. Proud of my dedication to STAYING with the vision, and really proud of all of us who had the enthusiasm to start out on different courses. But I will be honest right now - sometimes I felt like a mother who had done all of the work of those early years, then watched her children fly the nest, never to look back. Now, that's the GOOD part.

The not-so-good part came when I felt that people wanted to shine so badly that they forget everybody and everything else that had helped them along the way, and somehow made it seem like they'd been doing their work forever. I would hear rumors that I had quit doing my work (never), or that someone else had stolen my ideas (whatever). I even had people request that I stop doing my work so THEY could do THEIR work (seriously). It probably shouldn't matter - a good mother's only job is to raise her children to become beautiful adults. So MY problem was that I saw myself as other people's mother. Did they ASK me to take that on? No. Did they like all of the warm fuzzies and hot chocolate and hugs? Probably. Who wouldn't? Is that my M.O.? Most certainly - I live to serve, I live to nurture and support and help. It's what I DO, and I can't imagine doing anything else. But I can do that through my weekly newspaper column, and this blog, and my work with people, and my books and CDs. And by just being me.

So the tricky part was then this: when I started to feel resentful (for whatever reasons), that was my clue that I needed to do something different. So I took off my "mommy" hat and said, "it's time for everyone to fly. I'm done taking care of it all." And how is it now? To me, it feels like there's a strange disconnect in the area - little pockets of people doing all sorts of little things, mostly the fad of the moment, but that's okay. It doesn't feel like there's just one person or group of people that has taken over the leadership role. And that's good. It's too much for one person. People are branching out, experimenting, finding their ways, which is what I think we all need to do, anyway. Eventually we seem to settle down into ourselves, and stop looking so fervently on the outside for answers or meaning - it ends up being inside of us all along. And I'm not taking the responsibility of thinking it's up to ME to help everyone. Sheesh - get down off the cross. Seriously. Another issue of mine. So how do I feel now that I've retired my position of "Mommy to the world?"

Incredibly fabulous. Free. Light. Energetic. I've spoken of my feelings of happiness that are pervasive, no matter my outside circumstances. But it's something more than that. I feel like I've been reborn into another life - one that allows me to be fully the spiritual being I am AND a full part of the greater community. When I look back, I was spending all of my time cultivating the spiritual community that I didn't have time for anything else. I was gone most nights and weekends, and even when I was home I was planning or working on something coming up.

Now I'm active at Bill's school and active in my church again. I'm volunteering at Hospice again, and have time for friends. I don't feel isolated or cut off - I feel more ME than ever before. Interesting to note, my work has quadrupled since resigning as Mommy. I don't feel the need to tell everyone about my work or worry about it at all - everything just flows. And it feels good. Like I've woken up from a dream and I like how my "real" life feels. It was a long journey, and continues to be a journey, but what I want to say is this: I'm so grateful for all of my experiences in these past 15 years - I wouldn't trade any of them for anything, but it's really nice to be where I am now - loved and appreciated and supported by the WHOLE community, a part of, which is what I've wanted all along. It IS possible to be spiritual AND to just BE here. I'm living proof. And I think it was wrong of me to feel like I HAD to be mommy - if I believe that everyone needs to find their own way, and nobody knows more than anyone else, then thinking I was mommy was a bit hypocritical. I wasn't living what I preached, and that's a big no-no in my world.

And my tribe? A most sincere thank you to YOU, my dear friends - if it weren't for you, this whole thing probably wouldn't be half as much fun. You know who you are. Love and hugs and snugs... me.

Mom's necklaces

There are several stereotypes floating around out there about older people. I never really noticed until Dad pointed it out to me. "It makes me d**n angry the way they're always making older people out to be stupid, doddering idiots, shuffling around yelling, "What?" So I started noticing things. They say older people smell funny, they say older people like hard candies, they say their houses smell icky, they can't walk, or see, or hear, or, apparently, think. Yuck - he's right - it sucks. I look at my parents and I see them wearing clean clothes. They eat incredibly well - lots of fresh fruit and homecooked meals. They take regular showers. And they remember things better than I do. They haven't lost ANYTHING.

I helped Mom go through her jewelry one visit, and we were trying to pare down her immense necklace collection. She told me the stories one by one of her necklaces. Some I remembered, some I didn't. I DO remember her Tut necklace, with the gold flared wings - you know the symbol, don't you? She wore that one all the time. Went through this whole period when she really liked anything to do with Egypt. She still have the 3 foot tall gold statue of a young Egyptian female god (I can't remember which one). One of my first thoughts is, "Jewelry has to be the last thing on her mind," as she struggles with breathing and eating and swallowing and keeping her heart beating. But no, she surprises me again. Every time I come home she's wearing a different necklace - last time it was the cross that Dad gave her for Christmas ("now I can wear it all the time and not worrying about the sides poking into me"). She even changes her rings out (except for her wedding ring, which they had to cut off her swollen finger). I've got to be honest - I'm amazed by my mother. I get myopic in my life right now, and I'm in the peak of health. How she still manages to floss and brush her teeth every night AND find new jewelry to wear AND new combinations of clothes to wear ("this cardigan looks so CUTE with this shirt - it's perfect, don't you think?" Yes Mom, I DO think it's cute). Seriously, she is my inspiration for how I want to live my life, not only when I'm older, but NOW. Dad, too. He's the epitomy of unconditional love in action - when Mom needs something, he doesn't sigh and make exaggerated motions of getting up (like I do). He just goes to her.

So I'm thinking about Mom's necklaces this morning, and feeling all soft in my insides. They've found a lot of fluid in Mom's lungs and legs, and she didn't have much breath to talk yesterday, but wanted to hear all about Steve's PSC campaign. Again, not self-centered, but interested in the rest of the world. Inspirational. I push those death thoughts away, but the tears are spilling out of my eyes again, but it's not a bad thing. Really, it's not. It's just that I love my mom and dad so much it makes my chest all tight a lot of the time. Time is just so flipping erratic - I don't get it - why can't we all just be here all the time - immortal - eternal? Oh wait - we ARE - it's just this whole physical plane thing that messes the linear up with the circular. I keep forgetting. But still... every time I get to say, "Hi, Mommy" I'm grateful. And every time she says, "This is your mommy," I'm happy. That's what I remember.

I don't know what to say...

I want to be honest, totally honest, to write what I'm feeling, yet I resist. Why? Because maybe I think I'm supposed to be "up" all of the time, the eternal cheerleader, the optimist, the one who always supports everything, who believes in more than the eye can see. And I AM those things, but I am also honest (writing practice training - thanks, Nat), and today I am feeling discouraged. Why? Because lately, in these past few days, it feels like I have these visions that I am helping others with, and they don't seem as excited or enthusiastic as I am, and I think, "But these are YOUR dreams, not even MINE, and I feel like I care MORE about them." Now you may just tell me that I should step back and let these people do their own things, but I love all of these people - I love them dearly, and I want to help them, but now I'm thinking that I don't know HOW to help any of them. What I think is helpful, they may think is controlling or overbearing (yes, I've heard it before, unbelievable though it may seem), and I think that may be at the heart of all of this crap - learning new ways to be here, learning new ways to be of help without taking over or thinking it has to be done MY way, because, well, my way is the best. I don't really believe that (I don't think), but maybe I do.

I told Steve that during my basketball years, I was so focused on my playing that the coaches didn't even bother to tell me what was going on anywhere else on the floor. I didn't care. When I saw the ball, I put it in the basket, or batted it away from my opponent. I never saw anyone else around me, and I could mow over 4 opponents on my way to the basket. One coach simply told me, "Don't think." Focus. That's what I do. You could call it obsessiveness, but when I go for something, I throw my whole psyche into it, 24/7 - how can I do it, what else can I do, what's something new I can do, who can I get to help... and on. So I approach Steve's campaign the same way, and Dad's book, and Jordan's life, and Erik's life, and Kari's life, and Bill's life. You get the picture. But now I don't have any time left over to throw myself into MY life. And that's okay - for now, because I believe in Steve, and I believe in this book project for Dad. I WANT to do this, but I'm wondering if I'm doing the right thing. I'm wondering what's going on right now, and I see this is something I'll have to sit with, to ask "up" about, so I will. Hang on: ring ring ring (I'm "calling" my intuition)

Hello, it's us. We can see that you are feeling the current turmoil that is swirling all around you and inside of you, and we wish to point out that it is no different than the current turmoil that the entire world is experiencing right now - wanting to make changes into the new, but coming smack up against the obstacles placed in front of you from the "old." The "old" ways will not work anymore, not in any area of your life, so that can be your new landmark - if you are doing something you've always done, do something else, because the old won't work. It's gone, it's done. (so what about me wanting to help others?) Ask yourself if you are genuinely doing this for THEM, or if there is any part that is doing this for YOU, such as, you want to help your husband because if he's happy it will make YOUR life better, or if you help your dad it will make YOU feel better that he's happy. These are very old patterns for you, dear one, and ones that perhaps push you into directions that you would rather not go into, or at least to the EXTENT that you are wandering in these directions. Maybe not so FAST or so DEEP, is the answer. Maybe pull back on ALL fronts for a while and sit with what YOU really want to do to bring passion and excitement into YOUR life statement. What IS your life statement? Think on that for a while, and breathe, just breathe. It's all here for you, and now is the time to achieve your heart's longing... if only you KNOW what that longing is. We love you, we support you, we respect and cherish you always. Have a great day - us.

So that feels more clear, and I'll go now and sit with myself. Life is not for sissies, just like aging is not for sissies. You have to be present, you have to SHOW UP, and sometimes I just want to throw up my hands and say, "I'm done being a cheerleader - I'm going off somewhere else now for a while - catch you later," then I remember my sweet, patient husband, who never turns me away, who is always there with a smile and a hug, always willing to kiss me, even if he's tired, always there for me, so first I'll re-read I Corinthians (our favorite couple's verse about love - tough stuff), THEN I'll sit with this all - phew - change is pretty challenging, but I'm up for the challenge - after all, I'm a 3-time All-American (hah).