Heartwood

Daughter of the Ocean

2012-01-23T19:20:00.001-05:00

My mind silent, my voice silent, I walked onto the crowded beach and headed towards the spit at the end of the protected bay. I saw none of the people there- fat babies rolling in the waves, people slathered in oils soaking up sun, eating sandwiches under umbrellas. Time existed in another place as I walked, one foot after the other, half in and half out of the tideline. There was a song in my heart and it was calling me to where the sand ended in the water, and that was the only thing that I knew.

Heedless of wind in my hair and sand on my feet... heedless of people, gulls, nothing except the ocean. She lay to the left of me, she lay before me. Still I walked.

I came to the place where the sand ended in a point. There was magic in this place, where two currents came together to cross one another in endless diamond patterns. It was shallow there, and went out for a long, long way- or so it seemed. I did not stop my pace when I hit the water, a thing possessed, a creature called. The sea, she was calling to me. The mother. The ocean. The song welled up in my heart and began to spill over into my entire body until I could not distinguish where I ended and the sea began. She was not cold, not to me; this northern sea. I walked. It felt like walking on water, these shallows; and mesmerized by the diamonds I was surprised when I finally reached the breakwater. Crests of foam washed over my thighs, and still I did not stop. The sea was calling me.

My long hair tangled over my back, whipped in the sun by the wind. A pressure was rising in my heart, in my body. Welling up in my belly, this feeling like intense love, like a fierce scream, like the pleasure of fear just before the roller coaster drops. I could not stop, I was compelled. Welling up like tears, welling up like orgasm. The sea rose in pace with this feeling, over my thighs, to the tender place my legs met. The shock of it did not register because she was claiming me. Had I tossed a look over my shoulder I would have seen that the magic of this place had taken me already; I was never seen by those that lay on the sand. I was but a tangle of wind and sand; a bit of seafoam on the breeze.

The water came up to my solar plexus and what was welling began to crest. If I could shake I would have been shaking then. The sea was taking my body but I did not yet understand; the deep emotion that came forth rose and rose and rose until it was as a scream in my throat. By then the water covered my heart and I suddenly realized there was no fear. I began to feel sensual touches about my feet and legs; fish? Seaweed? I did not look because I was compelled forward and my entire being was enraptured by the salt water about my body.

Then the feeling crested, and I made as if to scream or laugh or cry- a wave came then and claimed me, the rest of the way. The outcry was taken by the water. I was filled with it, as I began to laugh, ripples and tidal waves of joy and fear and the incredible sensation of an entire body orgasm (for that is the only word I can give it) washing over me. My hair floated about me. The sensation of pleasure was mingled immediately by waves of pain. True pain, pain down to the bone- I was compelled, yes, but now that I was under the water I was part of her, part of what was claiming me and I began to see what the song was. I curled into a ball in the water, reaching down to my legs, my feet with my hands, to soothe the pain, the pain... As I looked, I saw what was beginning. What I was compelled for. I was changing. Oh, the pain, the pleasure, I could not untangle them, exquisite it was. Oh! My legs bound together, despite my kicking. Scales. Fins. Not just fins, no. If I could cry I would have but tears in the ocean matter to no one. She had me, I was within. I closed my eyes and clutched my changing body and rode the pain as I finished. Hours, days, minutes, who can say?

Finally it subsided and I began to realize that the water felt as silk against my body. I opened my eyes and realized I could see with startling clarity. I was not lacking for breath; felt, on my neck, delicate silken gills. My hair streamed around me like a veil. My legs- no... no more. In their place was a beautiful, sinuous scaled tail, gold-orange scales and sinuous long fins that moved like long streamers in the water. I began to move and felt the power in these fins. I could move with incredible grace and such little effort, a dance as I could only dream of on land. Land... forgotten. Had I ever left this place? Was I born here, or made? I could no longer remember, moving in curlicues and spirals in the water, feeling the utter pleasure of my hair and fins moving about me, about the water. The deliciousness of just existing, of moving, of flowing through... life in complete ecstatic flowing sensuality, glowing in the dim green light, darting among the life I found everywhere I looked.

I began to hear the song, then. The song was not through with me. It seemed to float through the water, calling to me. I tested my strong tail, my fins, and found the ease with which I could move. I flowed along the coastline, sensing rocks before I could hear the water battering against them. I marveled at the colors, rippling as the sun went in and out of clouds, filtering through the surface of foam and wave, life flowing among life. Still the song called.

Out I went, and in. Towards rocks along an island, on the oceanward side away from the mainland. The song, the song... weaving in and out of giant kelp gardens, reflecting off rocks and even remains of ships I found. I began to understand, as I swam strong and sure towards it. Siren... sirens... siren song... I am... I am... I am.

Priestess of Aphrodite

2012-01-06T22:33:00.001-05:00

I've been here before, I thought; in another lifetime. This all feels so familiar to me, part of my soul almost. I've done all this before. Many times in this life the moment comes, like a little electric shock, that tells me in sibilant tones... yesss... you know. You know this.

We lay silent on the floor, comfortable, all of us women, acolytes; in complete trust. Blindfolded so we wouldn't know what was coming next. Listening to the bare feet of the initiates and the rustle of their clothes as they moved about us, teaching us to trust our senses. What was this on the lips? Chocolate, lemon? Fur? Leather? Hot, cold? Giggles as the women were surprised and delighted; squeals as something unexpected occurred (oh, that WAS lemon!). Suddenly I was struck with the realization- I have been here before, listening to the initiates walk around me, only it was a temple then, yes, a sacred Temple of the Goddess.

The stage lights were on, and the music began. I wore flowing silks of red and peach about my hips, red velvet about my breasts, tassels and glitter shining like magic. A basket of roses on my head. I walked slowly, gently, deliberately in swaying grace onto the short stage. It seemed so impersonal, and here I was trying to begin the evening's performances with a blessing. I set the basket on the stage, and began to dance with the veil from about my hips. Suddenly the stage lights malfunctioned and cut out. I did not even break my stride, but leaped off the stage into the grass with my veil, dancing within the circle of tiki torches, feeling alive and natural in the fire light- yessss... this is where I am meant to dance. So close to the people watching, seated on blankets in the grass. At the end of the song I picked up the basket and threw petals to the people, watching the children squeal and try to catch them. I have been here before.

Catching someone's eye, and in doing so, turning up my inner fire so the other may feel it... watching that person respond, viscerally... yessss...

Standing naked and feeling the simple sensuality of my long hair caressing my back...

Feeling intense pleasure having a tattoo done on my back, feeling kundalini rise as the needle raked my lower spine...

Walking into a club feeling the Goddess thrumming in my heart, seducing the world with my walk and my dance, knowing that this is all in joy and in pleasure, and not at all for any mal intent. All acts of love and pleasure are my ritual.

Feeling the touch of the Goddess when I dance, feeling her come through me, touching those who watch, seeing their eyes shine to wit her lustrous being come through. We are all expressions of love. My heart glows, I claim this, claim this Priestesshood. It has been a year since I shook my wings free and I am soaring.

Wings of the Heart, wide open

2011-01-28T07:32:00.000-05:00

I was fettered, and didn't know it. Silk cords that bound my wings to my body, they were beautiful and for a long time I did not protest. They didn't seem to bother me. My soul, she knew. The wise woman beneath, sitting in her cozy cave, she knew too. A series of events and words, and suddenly even the light touch of these cords became too much to bear. I began to understand the price I was paying for the safety and comfort of routine in a home life I was not meant for. Isolation for many long years because of choices I had made only allowed the cords to settle more firmly about my body, until I forgot I had wings, I forgot entirely I could fly.

The choice, once taken, showed me that when I chose to flex my wings the cords fell away like spiderwebs. There was no heavy struggle, no chafing of bonds tied too tightly. Merely push my wings out, and the cords were gone. I grew heady with freedom and leapt from the cliff! Away! Into the air, stretching my wings. The air beneath my breast, filling the space beneath. Oh exhilerating dawn! The sky fills my wings with joy! Ah, freedom!

But, what is this? What, where? Where am I going? I don't know how to fly! I can't do this! Where am I going? How could I possibly know? In fact, I don't know at all! And I look behind me at the cliff. Safety, how can I return there? I can be good, I can sit still, I can take these silken cords and live with them with love, I can do it, I can...

No, I cannot. I look at that safety and see it is no longer enough for me. The cords do not even fit anymore. My heart is beating in terror- did I make the wrong choice? Am I crazy to throw all this away? I don't even know where the sky is taking me. Or rather, where I am taking me through this great beautiful expanse. I am afraid. I am free, and I am in the air, but I am not flying yet because I don't know where to go. I don't know what I am becoming. All I know is that my heart is blindingly, terrifyingly open- so much light! So open that I ache! How can I drink it all in? I want what is coming. My soul knows. She knows that to fly is to live, and I want to live. I don't want to just exist, a shadow of myself, looking for wings by the light and shade on the wall. I want my wings under me, I want to know what it is to truly live, to feel the passion of my soul surging up through this open heart and into the sky. There is enough, there is more than enough, it wells up and through me and I want to be ready! I want to be free!

And so in doubt I turned to the wise woman within, in her sweet and cozy cave. I sit quietly and look within, and she is there, curled on her furs, knitting by her fire. She has happy crinkles by her eyes, and I know her. She is me, she is the Grandmother. She speaks quietly and it takes courage to listen and stay still enough to hear her.
"The choice you have made is the right one. You cannot stay where you are. The life you made here is not enough for you. You will die by degrees in unhappiness in it, and you know that. The one you are leaving behind, what he chooses is not for you to decide. You were the guide and the mirror, the doorway. Such great gifts you have given him, helping to see himself, his path, his own light. Do not fear being forgotten here, because your love was a turning point for him to greater love and greater bliss. You cannot stay and you know that. You need a greater, deeper spark to feel met and fulfilled, and he has not been this for you, and was not meant to be this for you. You found him when you were lonely and there, such amazing friendship blossomed in you both! However he cannot touch that deeper part of you, you must find it first yourself and find a way to open it. That is where your gifts lie, and your greater potential for love- of self, and of others. This is not your mate. If you never have one it is not something to despair of, find your passion first and let life unfold."

The quivering in my belly is still there, the beating of my heart- but less. More steady. I know what I need to do; to step onto the path and trust that what unfolds next is what I need in order to learn not just to fly, but to soar and live, fully.

Embracing Wind

2011-01-23T10:33:00.000-05:00

Long, long ago a lover said to me:
"Loving you is like putting the wind in a box"
at the end of our torrid affair. That statement affected me deeply, with a sense of shame or disbelonging; if I couldn't figure out how to tame my wild windy heart, who would be able to love me? Would I, in my fickleness, be able to stand still long enough to allow it?

Many years later, I found myself coming full circle. This urging for freedom somehow, this need to spread my wings, to fly, let go, dance and soar and see where it takes me. This is in my blood. As another romance comes to an end- this one the most gentle, kind, loving and considerate breakup I have ever had the grace to experience- I looked into my lover's eyes as he began to articulate the same concept. I filled in for him:
"You mean, loving me is like trying to put the wind in a box."
"Yes! Exactly, and beautifully put!"

I had a momentary spasm of despair. Ah, still unloveable because I'm so much fire and air! Is that so?
Then, suddenly I was struck by a realization. Why is this something to be changed? Is it not a gift somehow, some way? No it does not fit the conventional notion of settling down, putting in roots, making babies and home life and so on. Perhaps I have been trying too hard to force myself into a role my soul does not want. I have fought and tried, cried and stretched and reached to the deepest parts of myself to find the way through so I could keep this love, learn to settle down and enjoy home life and that sort of domestic partnership.
My heart will not have it. The more I tried to force it, the more depressed I got. I felt flawed somehow, broken, because I could not come to a conclusion as to whether I felt I was capable of having babies; whether I was comfortable sacrificing so much of my creativity and time, my art and solitude which is required for such an undertaking.

What if I have been fighting what my soul IS, what my soul WANTS, all this time? Trying to learn to love in this way, learn to be loveable in this way. I am meant for other things. I like the freedom of wandering where I will, of deciding on a whim to change my entire afternoon on an adventure. I love being so close to community that I can touch them anytime, but have large amounts of sacred and romantic solitude that bring me bliss. Am I not a mother to many creative "children"? Are there not more to come? There are many ways to birth consciousness into the world. In our state of overpopulation, it is not necessary to birth love and peace in the way of more human beings. I can have a great impact on those already inhabiting this planet, in taking joy in the beautiful children of my friends.

I am not ruling children out. What has happened recently though gave me pause; my beautiful and wonderful partner, a man with an exquisitely open and generous heart, desires children in a clear and positive way. I cannot find that same clarity, as much as I love him and our connection. This issue of babies brings me great stress, sorrow and anguish. I still feel I have growing to do before they could be an option; at my age, that growing could very well outlast my reproductive years. And so I release him. My heart aches. It is a difficult decision, as I have never met anyone as suited to me as he. But I love him, and his happiness, and so I let him go. I wish for him that he finds a beautiful and wonderful partner who cannot imagine not having his babies with him, in cheerful messy chaos and noise. It is not for me.

I am doing what my ancestors could not, or did not- heal the rage and long abuse and sorrow in our line. So much pain handed down! The fear is- I heal this line, does it not need blood children to carry it on? I don't know, but I do know that each person who commits to healing further heals the planet, in enormous degrees. I want to see more children raised with non violence and compassion. I want to see more wanted babies, not those born by accident into stress, misgivings, or worse- violence and poverty.

I don't know what I am meant to do. It is more than just vet med and dancing, playing with my friends. I open my Self to whatever this is, so that I can find the peace that lies within knowing the true nature of the soul. Why is it I am so "flighty" and free? Why is it that on one hand, I can commit with an iron will, but desire freedom from shackles so much I cry with the pain of them? What freedom am I longing for? I want to know. I commit to knowing this.

Turtles

2010-05-25T06:35:00.000-04:00

Although I have been hiking quite a lot this year- and thus in a perfect position to see lots of wildlife, as I certainly have- I have had encounters with turtles that have stood out. When I see an animal in a random encounter and it feels as if it has weight, I look up the symbolism in order to see if there is a message or meaning from (the universe? my subconscious? tribe consciousness?) that I need to hear.

I was driving in my vet truck when I saw a turtle in the middle of the road. Having worked in wildlife clinics, I have seen my fair share of smashed turtle shells; so I turned around, put on my hazards (holding up another car), hopped out. I gently picked the turtle up and unceremoniously dumped it into the swamp like ditch on the side of the road- safety.

I took the hand of my handfasted partner and led him into the woods, telling him I wanted to "show him something". We were both in need of some healing with each other- it's been a tough winter. When we got to the spot I had thought of, by the pond, an amazing thing happened; we both simultaneously saw the nearly empty turtle shell. "Wow! When did you discover this? Amazing!" he said- he is also a vet, an exotics vet, and loves turtles. I was stunned; we saved the shell, he cleaned it and it sits in a revered spot in our house.

While running yesterday, I saw another turtle in the middle of the path. The second one that has crossed my path (while alive, I guess). It was motoring along well until it heard or saw me coming; then it stopped, and withdrew into its shell. This is a busy path with dogs and bikes and joggers, so I stopped too and gently lifted the turtle the rest of the way where it was heading into the lush grass.

Turtles. Why turtles? I read a lot this morning about symbolism, meaning and so forth. Turtle is present in so many cultures, for so many reason. What is mostly universal is longevity, protection and associations with the moon due to the markings on the shell, numbering in 13 (moon months) and 28 (moon days). The turtle, in this respect, is feminine. What resonates with me, after all this reading and from the encounters, is a message telling me to slow down a little, remember my own natural rhythms (even when threatened!) Remember the divine and the feminine. Find wisdom in slowing down a little, and hardening up a bit.

Queen of the Magpies

2010-03-14T20:16:00.000-04:00

This is a dream I had years ago, back in undergrad. It was in vivid color, so real... and I can still remember every detail, like it just happened.

***

I was sent back in time by my boss, a jewelry maker, to look at jewelry of the 70's for inspiration and ideas. Mostly, I was attracted to beaded work and there was some beautiful stuff happening then. I found myself walking on a busy street and went into a little hippie jewelry type shop, with things like big beaded headbands, beaded curtains, hair clips with beaded flowers... that sort of thing. It was wild. My eye drank in all the color, not to mention the people shopping around me. As I walked around a center island with buckets of beaded bracelets and things, just dangling my hand in them and feeling everything I could, I was stopped by a woman whispering words in my ear.

"I have something for you to see. You shouldn't miss this." She had very big hazel eyes and black hair, just past her shoulders and a little wild. I didn't know her, and had no idea who she was. "It's not far, just outside a ways."

So I followed her. We ended up walking on a path of flat slate stones through a field. We were walking towards one of the largest and most beautiful trees I had ever seen. There were steps carved into the tree, and the center was hollow, with a round doorway. The two halves of the door stood open. She stopped at the foot of the tree, smiled sort of enigmatically at me, and waved me on. I mounted the steps slowly, marveling at them. What an amazing thing this was! I felt privileged, hushed and awed- the air was heavy and quiet.

When I entered the hole, my eyes adjusted; there were windows also carved in, letting in small amounts of light. My joy turned to horror. The smell was terrible. A chicken coop? I did not understand. Everything inside was beautifully carved, and on either side of the door were two long hollowed out benches lined with straw. And yet... there were chickens in it, it was filthy and stank. Suddenly I noticed there weren't just chickens; there were some small, feeble black chicks being pushed out and pushed around. What were they? What was this? My feeling of horror grew, and suddenly was beginning to mix with another emotion- anger.

"How could they..."
This was interrupted by a low, deep laugh. I spun around to see who it was. Standing in shadow, half hidden, was a man with greying dark hair, and a greying goatee. His moustache was curious, thick and full and coming to points at either end. I did not like his laugh, it was cold and unfriendly; though I was still angry, I felt a sense of caution and even fear. I was still so confused! There was an intense feeling of anger and I could not place why I would feel anything at all about a chicken coop.

"You are too late."
What? What is this lunatic talking about? The sense of confusion grew, and I turned back again to look at one of the struggling chicks. I felt like a veil was being ripped from my mind. As if a strange haze of some kind had lingered there for... well, for years.
"Father." I said, because I started feeling memories I did not know I kept, flowing through my mind.

"You!" I turned again to the man, who had started his laugh when I spoke, and this time it was even worse. But before I could speak another word, the woman with the green eyes came back in the door, only now she was wearing a sleek outfit of black. I felt a sudden stab of recognition.

"I..." but she did not let me speak; suddenly she went down on one knee and presented me with the most wicked looking sword I had ever seen. It was shaped like the crescent moon just after she is new. The hilt was black, and the blade was not that bright metal you often see in swords, but a curious dark grey, and gleaming. The hilt and the first 1/3 of the blade were crusted with jewels, opalescent, but not necessarily white- they were as an opal would be were it black, with deep and bright colors captured within. The blade started out thick in its width but narrowed along the crescent to a razor sharp tip. And she was presenting it to me. The feelings I had since I walked up the steps intensified, and I reached down to take the sword hilt in my hands. As I took it, the woman glanced briefly up at me, a flash of hazel with amusement; quick as it came, it was gone. But I knew.

I took the sword. It knew my hand, and I it. Memory came surging back. I turned a pirouette with the blade held level in front of me, wicked curve out; as I spun I saw the man's smug face turning suddenly grave and fearful. When I stopped twirling, I had only a moment to recognize what had also occurred- as I spun, my clothing changed to lithe, supple black leather armour, black but with all the colors of the rainbow muted in it- just like an oil slick on tarmac. It was absolutely amazing, perfect; the sight of it jarred me all the way out of the veil I had on me all those years.

I looked up at the man now.
"You have defiled this place, this sacred place. This is our rookery! You have turned it into a chicken coop! I know that you have killed my father... and that makes me Queen of the Magpies! This is WAR!" I rushed at him with a loud banshee scream, and he fled. I let him go, knowing the work had just begun.

I turned then to look at the woman, recognizing her now. She was my handmaiden, my right hand in battle. I had not known her when I came in here, but I remembered everything now.

career vs life... soul searching

2010-02-11T21:20:00.000-05:00

Am I ready to give up the thing I like doing in order to live more like I want to? All my life my dreams have been carried on galloping hooves, borne on strong backs and flowing manes across the landscapes of my mind. I focused hard on horses through school, letting the endless focus of small animal wash over me like rain, soaking up the tid bits of horse medicine when it came. I took this job here in the beautiful but socially desolate North East Ohio because they said I'd be doing mostly equine- which has turned out to be a lie. Thrown into small animal, a thing I feared and loathed, I persevered. Because I spend much of my time doing it I have, despite myself, become pretty good at it. But meanwhile my psyche is suffering. We have no friends here, nothing to do, no dancing, no music, nothing but our worthless jobs with bosses we can't stand to break the monotony. At each other's throats because we lack any perspective, we risk losing what we came here to preserve- our relationship. I followed him here because I didn't want to be without him, and this place is ruining what we have. Our solution is to fix it, get out, move somewhere with life and vitality, where there are people, music, things to do aside from eat and shop (which are the main events up here).

The problem I face is that there aren't horse jobs just anywhere. In fact most of the places where horses seem to be, people really aren't. Makes sense, really. If I could be somewhat close to life and fun and still do what I thrive on, that would be amazing.

Which comes to the crux of it- am I willing to give up being a horse vet in order to live somewhere I would enjoy more? I mean, life is for enjoying, not suffering. I want all of it- I want to do horse work, AND be in reach of my friends, AND be dancing, AND be near some goddamn culture! What am I willing to give up? I gave up friends for two years and I am at the end of my tether. I'm going crazy, I am not who I was. I can't do it any more. I gave up culture for two years (those who say Columbus has culture or stuff to do, haven't lived anywhere else) and I feel I am going mad. Carefully watered down Midwest crap disguised as "culture"... yogurt curd made digestable for the bible thumpin folks who can't stand the fact that there are other people who don't buy the nuclear family myth, the fact that this country isn't entirely christian or what have you, that there ARE in fact GAY people and they do have the right to life and happiness... not that I'm bitter, mind you.

I have had ENOUGH of the Midwest, thank you very much.

Anyway, what if I can't do horse work where I want to go? Am I willing to give it up? I fear that if I take a job all small animal, it will become difficult to get back into horses again. Use it or lose it. I am of course looking, I will be applying aggressively for a position to work with horses even part time. Hell, I'm "mixed animal" now, I know I can do it and do it well. Why not?

Thing is, it's not all bad to be small animal oriented. Those folks get to just go home at night, have more predictable hours and business and so on. Not a bad life, really. Still, I love the medicine with horses, handling them, meeting them, figuring them out. The challenges. It's all good, to me.

So I guess, yes. I can't live so far away from things that make me happy anymore. I hate this existance, there is much much more to me than just vet med. In order to stay who I like being, I need to do more of what makes me "me" and rejoin the living. If it means I sacrifice some of what I am doing, fine. It's not like I'm quitting being a vet (and it's all fun anyway). I just need to believe the right job will come, I will get to do what I want to do. Where I want to do it. That would be just great. Please please please just give me a key to happiness again and get me the hell out of here.

winter

2010-01-25T15:13:00.000-05:00

I always feel this way. Maybe it's Seasonal Affective Disorder, or whatever they want to call it, but really it's the winter. The time when you must stay in, turn inward, examine what you've learned, hunker down to ride out the cold and think about what has come to pass. Our ancestors used this time to make things that would be necessary for the coming year- knitting or weaving, sewing, carving, blacksmithing, anything that you could do to keep your hands busy and be productive and useful. Still, you turn your thoughts in, and that can be hard.

It's snowing. I've waited for days for this, because snow makes winter worth it. I couldn't live somewhere that was cold and barren and yielded no snow. That is cruelty; that was Columbus. Cold, naked, bare and covered in ice. Ice! How horrible. Snow, though; thick, fluffy, pure white. It makes a special sussurus as it falls. That's hard to hear where there is so much population and cars, but if you get yourself out into the middle of a winter wood you can hear the snow fall. It makes me feel quiet, wonderous and connected to the magic of all things.

Still, despite snow, I get quiet and withdrawn in winter. I suppose it's natural, or it's S.A.D. as I've said before. It doesn't matter; what it means is that I bundle up, hunker down, and turn inward. This year I've taken to sitting quietly and knitting my heart out. That helped a little. My wonderful man took to reading aloud to me as miles of cloth wound out from my hands. That made things absolutely wonderful. Then we got me a beautiful Tiffany lamp with a full spectrum light and well! What do you know; I can see the projects so clearly and it does seem to truly help.

Winter makes me inward, and wistful. I know better than to long for spring, because that is a wasted effort. Spring will come as it always does, at around the same time. This year we are looking forward to crocus and daffodil bulbs we put in the garden out front. Still, it is wistfulness and loneliness- a thing made more bearable by the family of the man and critters I have around me. It is something I am, something I do- perhaps now that I am not in my 20s anymore I can learn to accept that this is what the dark and cold bring. Stop fighting against my nature so much and just do the things that bring me peacefulness and light; stop feeling I have a "problem" and just nurture what is needful in the winter months. So I like to be still and quiet. That is just how it is; give it tea, and light, and lots of yarn then, and let it be.

Sometimes I think about the skewed version of happiness that people long for in this country, fed to them by media in popular shows and films. Happiness in that regard is perfection, with broad smiles and ecstatic high energy life. Well, when I see that I know that this sort of output can't last forever, it's too exhausting. Then when it winds itself out people feel disillusioned and let down (perhaps this explains the high divorce rate?) Have people forgotten that happeness comes in many levels? That yes, the ecstacy of success or reunion or new love is incredibly elating, but that's not the only way? Happiness is not struggling to survive. It is having a full belly and feeling content. Just content. Being safe, warm, with your needs met, and good people around. That is also happiness: not wanting for anything.

Am I happy, then? Yes. I am happy. I am content, rather. Perfectly so. Would I care to improve upon it? Most definitely; I crave a variety in friendships, other activities I enjoy that I cannot do right now, and so forth. That would bring me more or different happiness, different levels. So wisely, sagely and gracefully I will accept that for what I have and where I am, I am pretty damn content. And happy.

I can survive the lunatic...

2010-01-16T22:07:00.001-05:00

She barges in while I'm examining patients and having Dr/Client conversations... because she thinks they're all her "friends". Regardless of the seriousness of what I'm trying to address.

She talks loudly about clients and doesn't seem to care if there are other people in the clinic that can hear.

Not only does she not scrub for surgeries, she wears long sleeve shirts and bracelets and I have on more than one occasion seen her drag these things into an open surgical site. She will also use the same pack on several (unrelated) animals.

She does not believe in pain management and thinks all animals are "drama queens" who wake up screaming. All our patients wake up screaming, shaking uncontrollably, smashing their heads against the cage. This would have gotten you a demerit from Anesthesia where I went to school. When asked if we can have better pain meds I am routinely turned down because she thinks people will abuse the meds (there are only 6 employees and a lock box!) and she also doesn't believe the animals need it.

She regularly steals my cases, despite the fact that I am paid on production. She is the one who pays me, the one who proposed the low, low salary to be supplemented with production. WTF? Often she will steal my surgeries and say carelessly, "well I'm faster, it'll just get done faster if I do it." Yeah, but it's MY surgery day! I lose money and production to my BOSS!

If something goes wrong and a client complains, she will not back her vets up. She'll just instantly cave and give the client a huge break on the bill or whatever they want. Without even talking to one of us first, to see what happened, or giving us the opportunity to make it right or talk to the client.

She flies off the handle and makes rash decisions, throws tantrums, breaks things (not just objects but relationships); she is vulgar and rude; she is often out of control. She will do things like show clients her surgery sites from her breast cancer/ implants, right in the office. We regularly lose clients because she somehow thinks this is ok.

Often she will call one employee to bitch about another. After she unloads, she says "there! I feel better, well, that's all." And leave you feeling that you've backstabbed someone, participated in gossip, without ever wanting to.

It's crap. I hate it. It's hard enough to be a vet without dealing with someone who is certifiably insane and untreated. Her business grew in spite of her, and this is how crazy people end up bosses and practice owners. Please Goddess save me from this insanity, please grant me safety and sanity in my next practice. Please please grant it soon. I want a good, secure, steady job with liveable hours and wage, a good client base with a sweet case load, an employer/ staff I can trust... is it so much to ask for? I just want to do my job. I just want to be a good veterinarian. Please save me from this madness.

Snakes and lunatics

2009-12-11T21:44:00.000-05:00

Snakes, every night. Or I should say morning, for I wake up with these dreams wisping from my mind like so many seeping fogs. Complex situations wrapped in anxiety, with odd travels and social webs. And snakes. Every day for the last week there has been a snake in my dreams. I live with snakes, four of them; they are not a fearful thing for me, so I take it for what it is... snakes are full of ancient history and symbolism.
I looked it up. Transmution. Change. Creation. Shedding your skin, getting out of a rut, change, flexibility. Slither away... go with the flow... that's what snake tells you.
There you have it. It's wrapped up in anxiety because I am doing things in ways I know could be done better, and not living up to my potential. In work and in life. I know I could take excellent care of myself, but I find myself eating too much chocolate because of this reason and that... helpless and unable to stop... unwilling, perhaps, to change. It makes me grumpy, makes me fat, makes me unhappy in the end; but the stress of a job that (here's the kicker) ALSO does not let me do things the way I know they can be done better... not living up to my potential in the way I was trained... makes me so stressed that I seek what little pleasures I can. Mostly earthy, wine and chocolate and sleep.
So, snakes. Transmute. I have so much magic and potential and so much fear to use it and live up to it. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the stress and depression of what others are doing, what I'm not doing, that it becomes difficult to shine. People get angry and jealous when you shine; while you're shining it doesn't bother you, but boy when you slip a bit and they take you down it's easy to agree "yes, I suck!" because it makes people feel better when you aren't challenging the ruts they are in.

And lunatics. I don't mean movie- crazies, but people all around you that are so out of control in their own heads that they can't see straight. People who have no idea of the havoc they wreak on others with their crazy behavior; or maybe they just don't care. Most of the time you can let it go, until it puts a pressure on your own existance and you come up against it with the realization that there's no rationalizing with this person, no talking sense into, no conversation or action ever that can change this or bring some kind of relief. And when this person is part of your livelihood- an essential part in fact- it becomes very depressing very quickly. Sort of like those horrible Pavlovian experiments that show how one's spirit gives up; the one where he threw dogs into a pool with no way out and waited to see how long until they gave up and drowned? That one. I'm not drowning but I'm sure sick of irrational people having a measure of control over me. I hate it, hate it with all my being. Why and how do lunatics end up this far in life, with this much control over others? This one was by chance, and it's a rickety unstable ride which makes me unsure how far it will go.

So, transmute it. How? How!? I can change myself, I do and often, and with great pride when I stride for the better. As for the work, I will try in small ways to create what needs to be. But this! I can't transmute this. I can't change it. I can't even protect myself, mostly. I am at the fancy and whim of a lunatic, and I have to work especially hard not to slip slide into a depression rut filled with chocolate, self-loathing and bitterness. That is the work to be done, not easy, not pleasurable, and maybe not even possible. We shall see.

Watching the Wood wait for snow

2009-11-29T18:15:00.000-05:00

The trees are all naked, except for the stubborn oaks who hold onto their oxblood leaves until nearly spring. There are a few saplings who mysteriously held onto now fading green leaves all this time, as if no one told them the natural progression of things.

Mostly, though, the Wood is all naked trunks and limbs, and you can see so much further in than even a month ago. Things lay open and revealed, like that cottage that you didn't notice sitting now in plain view, the veil of green removed and only tender branches holding the secrets summer left behind. This is the time to look at the trees, to really see them, to really pull in the twisted trunks, the amazing straight serenity rising so high into the sky. Though it's more challenging in winter to name them when they no longer wear their leaves, it is also easier to see the silhouettes they show, the amazing textures of bark, the patterns of branches and their way of rising up from the ground.

Everyone looks so naked without a mantle of snow! I am waiting for the snow, as they are; to soften hard edges, to cover the ground and make certain what is only tentative in this time of year- that yes, it is winter, or very nearly so. Snow I love, snow which somehow makes all warmer and more welcoming, makes winter easier to bear and easier to love. I, like the Wood, am waiting.

Reiki

2009-11-22T10:13:00.000-05:00

I doubted whether or not Reiki was real, true, or worked in any sense. Although the concept of magic always made sense to me- manipulation of energy, matter is made of energy, therefore manipulation of energy is manipulation of matter and vice versa- Reiki had me doubting.

Why? I don't know. Even though it's an art that is ancient, and practiced by many, what I was seeing was a lot of soft New Agey types touting the powers of this energetic healing and it made me feel cynical. I'm not your typical Neo Witch; I don't buy everything hook, line and sinker. I like to question and feel for myself what something can do.

When I did choose to become attuned to Reiki I, I did it on a whim, figuring- it can't hurt. It was free, at a festival, and there were 13 of us in a room, with an intense dude who is a Reiki Master, tattooist and uses both in Body Modification parties which apparently transform the hell out of any and all who participate. I still didn't really believe. We talked about energy, played with it, and then one by one sat in a chair and were attuned by the Master, at one end of the room. I made sure I was 7th in line (being my favorite number). All who sat before me came back buzzing, high, and wild looking. Each person who returned was full of energy and passed it along; playing with energy balls with others who had been attuned, or sending shivers and shocks through the rest of it.

It was my turn, finally. I was still figuring that I'd sit there and feel nothing. He started tracing symbols about my head and back, whispering things to himself, all part of the opening of channels. All of a sudden my teeth started chattering. I felt as if I'd been plugged into the wall socket. I had no control over the chattering of my jaw, and didn't bother to stop it. My whole body tensed and relaxed in cycles. It was absolutely bizarre. When he was done I felt energy flowing from my toes up through the top of my head and back down. I joined the group on the floor and felt the subtelty of energy currents flowing from one person to another. It was amazing, intense, and absolutely unbelievable- only, I finally did believe.

The concept of Reiki or the use of it is not new to me. I have apparently been using it since I was a pre teen, I just didn't have a word for it. In college I used to somehow be able to take away people's headaches, by concentrating and imagining a flow of liquid light going through the person's body and pushing before it the "soot" of pain, right out the crown of the head. By the time I did this attunement, I'd been using Reiki reguarly for 15 years. I just had no idea.

This attunement opened me up wide. We were told we would experience intense changes, emotionally and otherwise, and healing of ourselves. He was indeed right. My life went topsy-turvy (this also coincided with my Saturn return, but intensified it.) All was absolute chaos for a while. It was exhilerating, and absolutely what I needed.

Some time later, a friend came to a party quite upset. She and her boyfriend had a harrowing experience with some cops, who were being excessive with them over speeding or some such inoffensive offense. She was extremely shaken and unable to relax and enjoy the party. I took her to a corner and helped her ground, with a grounding exercise I learned many years before. My whole body heated up as I lead her through the grounding, with my hands on her knees as we sat cross legged in front of each other on the floor. When it was through she was crying, and asked how long I'd been a Master. I told her I was only Level I and she did not believe me, being a Master herself (I did not know that at the time.) She then brought me up to Level II a short time after that, saying that I already had an intensity of energy and it would be safer to have the channels properly aligned to cut out some of the chaos I was experiencing.

Reiki II brings further changes, of heart and emotion. That was indeed true. So many changes, yet again! Yet I did not feel it had opened the channels all the way. A couple of years later, another friend and Master offered to re-do my Level II while we were staying in an amazing forest in Georgia. At the time I was recovering from the brutal veterinary training I went through for 4 years, and felt an emotional train wreck. I agreed.

In a beautiful ritual involving a labyrinth with an amazing old tree in the middle, I had myself attuned to Reiki II once more. This time it once again felt right, and real. Not the same intense buzzing as the first opening, but more of a feeling of being washed in a warm river. For the rest of the day everything was more intense yet more detached- colors, sounds and smells. I felt languid and right.

Since then, when I do perform Reiki it is a lot easier, and my hands and body heat up intensely. More than once I have been asked how long I've been a Master. Eventually I shall open all the way to Master Level. The odd thing is that the symbols one uses have eluded me. I cannot seem to remember them. It doesn't seem to matter at all. Some interesting things have happened which lead me to wonder if I am already open all the way.

My partner had too much to drink the night before. He woke up feeling as if an elephant had sat on his head, and felt like his whole body was poisoned. I offered to perform Reiki on him to see if it would soothe him. He agreed, and I began; my hands got fiery hot (this does not happen every time) as I placed them on his belly. After 5 minutes, he leaped up and ran to the bathroom to throw up. This made him feel pretty terrible for a time; after that, however, he felt amazing. He went on with his day as if nothing had happened.

I work with animals every day. Reiki comes even when I do not call it. Animals seek it out, ask for it, in subtle ways I'm not always keyed into. I allow it when I know about it, and offer it to those severely infirm, scared, or prior (and during) euthanasia. I find it smooths the way for those who are dying. Horses especially are Reiki sponges.

Is Reiki real or not? Well, my experiences seem to say yes. Ask me in person and you'll see.

Magic and the power of thought

2009-11-20T13:01:00.003-05:00

Ever since I first studied about witchcraft, Wicca and the art of magic, I've known and understood the power of thought. I understand that not just witches study this but neuroscientists, buddhists, hypnotists, and lots of other people from as many cultures and countries as there are in the world. There are lots of tales of folks who got better by positive thinking; placebo effect; not to mention ESP and other "paranormal" activity or studies.

First hand though, now that's another story. It's downright weird, and although I've always known to "be careful what you wish for" or "the Rule of Three" in magic, having it reliably happen with even casual thought is a bit disconcerting. As you will... so mote it be. Ha! Well, coincidence may be random or it may not. I believe there was some book everyone was obsessed about 15 years ago that addressed coincidence as not random at all? Anyway, it just so happens that more often than not, when I think something it manifests. It can be downright annoying; like thinking of one of my clients or patients, and within that day or the next, they will need me for something (often an emergency!) It's gotten so that I try very very hard to NOT think of my clients or my patients, because I don't want to wish them ill. If I find myself thinking on them, I start sending positive Reiki just to cover them! Or how about knowing that putting my comfy sweats on at night will invariably lead me to getting called for an emergency? Every single time. So I sit in my work clothes until 10 pm just to be sure.

It can be greatly beneficial, such as when I decide I need an apartment or a car, and almost immediately things line up and work out. My friends say, "you have the most amazing good luck!" I say, good? Bad? If you read back far enough you will see I lost my home and pets to a very bad fire. Nothing happens small in my life, it all goes big. Real big.

Magic is energy. Reiki is energy. People, things, sounds, thoughts are all energy. It makes sense to me, then, that if all things are made of energy (atoms, particles, whatever) and magic is the manipulation or bending of energy in a certain direction or way, that it can greatly affect other beings made of energy. It's never been a hard concept for me to accept. Even as a doctor, I see and feel the benefits of Reiki as I work. The animals are energy, and exquisitely sensitive to boot; they get it, they like it, no problem.

Using magic to manifest something one needs is not only possible, but in fact so effective you need to be absolutely certain it's what you TRULY need or want, and that it will in fact HARM NONE as a result. At least this is my reality, as what I manifest does come about, and I have to be clear and concise.

One thing I never understood when I was younger is that magic and manifestation can take time. Yes, things can happen quickly. That can depend on need, too! Things can also take a looooong time. I started wishing for a partner, a good, loving, partner that was suited for me... careful wishing, there... in May of 2007, shortly after the fire; it took me until October of 2008 to meet him, and spring of 2009 to start dating him. I put a lot of heavy, specific PLUS vague magic into it, with a lot of care and a lot of patience... and it paid off. I simply was not ready until 2009. Turns out, neither was he, and it takes two to tango!

What do I mean by specific plus vague? How can one be clear and vague all at once? Well, I find that if you put too many specifics on the universe, it becomes a task impossible to fill. I clearly wanted a partner who was creative, kind, loves animals, loves easily without smothering, manly without being aggressive, oh and tall would be nice... that's specific. To keep it vague I said, but I mostly want the man who is best suited to ME. The one I can appreciate, adore, and admire. I skipped out on looks, nationality, even religion. None of that could matter! Several rituals and a couple of years, and here I am with a man I love to love.

Being vague in a specific way helps the universe to help you fill what you need. For example, you have to be specific on the things that matter, but vague on the things you can be flexible with. It leaves you room to grow, and adapt... you may change, yourself, between now and manifestation!

Knowing the power of thought and of magic means taking great care on the path your thoughts take. After all you can as easily manifest negative as you can good. In fact if you're a negative person, and put a lot of energy into your enemies and wrongs, hurts and cheats, you are bound to manifest more of these as the universe is merely providing you with the things you are sending attraction to. I try to be careful and when things happen I try to see silver linings in them, or think back on how I may have called a situation to me. You can fix patterns this way, and find new ways to think so as to avoid allowing that pathway to be clear, big and well trodden. Making peace in your mind is necessary for healing, and necessary to discontinue to call in the negative vibes.

What next? What to manifest next? Flexing the magic muscles is fun and helpful. Not in a greedy sort of way, but in a way that sort of lubes the gears... getting done what needs to be done, with a little energetic push. Hmmm! How about manifesting healing on that old horse with strange symptoms? Give that one a try, and see that he gets better over the weekend. Why not.

And thus, the end of Tribe Blog.

2009-11-16T00:46:00.000-05:00

I have successfully transferred over all the blog posts I think are interesting or important. I really have grown, changed and transformed quite a lot since I starting blogging there! Amazing. I'm sad I cannot recover the photos from there, I wish I could. It's reason enough not to kill the profile on Tribe.

I think I will be writing down my experiences in here, now. I really enjoyed my Tribe blog, not just as a way to jot things down but also because I had the feedback of my friends. Oh well! It is for me more than anything, a way to get my forest stories down... and so I shall have them witnessed here, for me, by me.

loving the unattainable

2009-11-16T00:44:00.000-05:00

December 26, 2008
Ah, some of you out there will be able to fully relate to this... and the frustration it brings.

I have been learning so much of the heart and mind in my journey through love, with its myriad wants, needs and desires. Ever since I ended my last truly serious relationship in 2006, I fear I have not quite been the same. Something has gone a bit unbridled, wild... well, to be honest, I've fully come into my Self, my power and my beauty and frankly, it's made me quite undateable. I'm struggling to understand this, and I believe writing it out will help so bear with me (if you've chosen to read at all!) :-)

When I was younger I never believed I had beauty or any other seriously wonderful qualities, so I dated whomever seemed interested and was vaguely interesting themselves. That worked just fine; I actually dated some fine people, learned a lot- about assholes in the beginning, and about gentlemen as I began to "wake up". Through that time I learned what I like, what I don't like, and what I ultimately am seeking. While this was all going on, I sought to better myself- becoming highly educated, molding my body to my likeing, honing my wit and humor, and becoming the dancer and performer my heart cried out to be. This is the creation I have become... I have worked hard to become the graceful, funny, talented doctor I am now. I like what I have done. I'm proud of it.

And I can no longer accept "ordinary" as a match for myself. I have become especially multi-faceted and want nothing less from anyone I date. Why should I?

In my heart there is a man, pieced together from the wonderful qualities of all the men I have loved over the years- not just lovers but friends, as well. So many amazing qualities! And in my heart he is there, the Ideal Man, the absolutely unattainable man who likely does not exist. But why not? After all, I exist- smart, cute, talented, successful... why should there not be a match? And yet. Yet.

I'm torn between wanting this amazing man as a mate- the one I will settle with, and cherish; and wanting a little physical satisfaction in the here and now (I've got those needs to meet too... grrrr...) which doesn't need to be with an amazing guy. I just can't though. I have found I am really and truly no longer able to have a casual fling with anyone, because I want to be with someone of the caliber I present. I feel like a lot of guys just don't give a shit, don't put in the effort.

So here's the unattainable bit. (I bet you thought I was referring to the Ideal Man in my heart, didn't you? Yes, but there's more!) There are some pretty amazing guys out there, and I find them from time to time. When I do, they are always, for one reason or another, unattainable. Taken, married; gay; preoccupied; unwilling to date for some reason or another; living too far away; the list goes on and on. My heart has been smashed so many times these past few years for these reasons. It sucks, truly sucks. I know there's a pattern here, of course; isn't it "safe" to fall for a guy who will not even give you the time of day? Or who thinks you're good enough to roll around with but keeps the heart locked up tight?

The amazing thing is, the guys who I find to be of the quality and caliber I like, are always locked up tight somehow. Beautiful, creative, talented, smart, sensitive, energetic... and completely walled up. I would say there's a pattern except for the fact that I haven't met any that aren't in this way. The rest of the guys I've met that ARE available are ordinary, intimidated by me anyway, or so on.

The ones who have been available and seem to be amazing, have deal breakers... children, for one. That's a big one.

So.

If there is a pattern, which I'm sure there is (it's safer to fall for someone who won't fall for you, right?) I find it irritating and wish to get over it quick, so I can enjoy a satisfying connection as well. It would be so lovely! All this love to give, locked up tight and wasted on my cats. Fri,

death of the deer

2009-11-16T00:43:00.000-05:00

Fri, November 7, 2008
I never even saw him until he was already hitting the car. It's rutting season... he was likely headed out on a date... at 5:30 this morning. He never made it. I saw him as his shoulder hit the front passenger bumper of the car, and then he was hitting the side of the car and it was done.

I threw the car, very much damaged, in park and had the presence of mind to throw on the hazards. I jumped out and trotted in my gym shorts over to where he lay. Mostly I was worried that he had run off, injured, to die somewhere; but there he was, a beautiful, healthy until that moment young buck. He was a 3 point buck, just getting into his prime. I was crying before I even reached him, where he lay in agony. My heart was wrenching for him to see him lift his head every now and then, wanting to run from the pain and the death. I sad by his back on the pavement, crying, giving him Reiki, waiting for the cops a nice lady had called for me.

As I sat with him, heartbroken, I prayed to Epona and Cernunnos to take him home to the summer lands. What a waste of a beautiful animal. I talked to him and apologised, keeping Reiki hands on him gently until the officer came and ended the pain with a bullet. I felt so helpless... I am a veterinarian! I am in this business to help and to heal, not to kill with so much pain. So senseless. And I felt so helpless, knowing what I could do to end the pain and unable to as I had only my car, and a dull pocket knife in the glove box. Nothing worth using.

I tried to find out if I could at least use the meat, or donate it somehow. Use the hide and so on. There was no way to, with me unable to transport him. It is going to go to waste. And that to me is the saddest thing of all, to have taken a life and watch it wasted this way. I pray for him and for forgiveness for taking a life and not using it as it should be. I hate that the world works this way... he could have fed a family and his death would not have been in vain.

All I can do is shed tears for a life taken.

I am unhurt, but the car is likely totaled. Why not? It's already been a hard couple of years; I'm ruined, financially, between the fire, school loans and a job that doesn't pay me enough to make it to the end of each monthly paycheck. I know I will be ok, I always land on my feet as my friends point out... but I am stretched thin, and getting to where I may not be able to recover. This is a lot of stress that I didn't need. I am surrendering to the absurdity of it all, financial ruin to follow my dreams of being a healer. In the end, if I lose everything and can never pay for anything again, I will still be a healer and my body is sound... more than I can say for that poor young buck.

Blessed be, little brother, find the Summerlands and run free again.

societal

2009-11-16T00:42:00.000-05:00

Mon, October 20, 2008
I have been reading a series that Richard recommended these past few weeks- the "Dies the Fire" series by SM Stirling. It is about what would happen if in the space of a second we lost all our electricity and gadgets, all our higher physics in fact- no guns, no cars, no lights, no planes, phones, internet, nothing. Not even steam engines. No explosives. Rocketing human beings back to the bronze age, basically, without anyone being fit for truly surviving then. It's a grim thing, but eye opening... what would happen?

The things it makes me think about are how fragile our society really is, based as it is on the way we communicate, interact and commute. Hell, the *fact* that we commute is strange enough, really. What served to make life easier has only created a world where we are further and further apart, even when we live-literally- right on top of one another. I'd love to know some of my neighbors, to have a friend in this cold place, but everyone is immersed in their own lonely planet of schedules, work, tv shows and whatnot that it's easier to remain in your own shell rather than interact.

I've said this before and I still believe it; human beings are meant to be tribal. It's something we evolved to do and be, for so many reasons; safety, sharing of resources, raising of young, and so on. From a purely biological standpoint it makes sense. The way that things are now, though, we don't necessarily need to band together. Families are spread apart, people move around. The stress of working and needing money to function in this society means we spend long hours doing things we may or may not like, with people we may or may not like, and rarely see the families we try to provide for. It causes all sorts of rifts, odd behaviors and sociopaths...

Why is it that so many Americans are on mood altering drugs? Whether you talk about prescription drugs, like anti depressants, or ADD drugs, or self-medication like alcohol, food (sugar/ fat) and recreational drugs... it's all the same. It comes down to the same principle, the same reasons; we cannot cope in the way things are set up. It isn't natural, doesn't feel natural. This is not set up to make people feel relaxed and good, useful and healthy. We increasingly turn to outside things to make what we're doing OK, even if it isn't. What could be more alienating than coming home in your HumV to your solitary apartment, crack open a beer, order a pizza and watch TV until you fall asleep on the couch... only to get up, go to a 9 to 5 you hate, come home, do it again? Doesn't anyone else find this bizarre?

Anyway this series throws people back into the need to create clans, tribes, villages, and so on. They need each other to survive; they need each other's skills and knowledge, hands and minds. People are once again directly responsible for their own survival- the growing and acquiring of food, fighting to keep it (wish it wasn't that way), maintaining and building places to live and keep animals, and so on. Am I saying I'd love to be in the middle of all that hard work, which guarantees you die early? The lack of proper medicine? Not really... but the idea of a clan, a tribe, a village... that appeals to me. Maybe this is born out of the loneliness I've spoken of before, being stranded here in central Ohio with all my tribe far far away. I'd say that's the case except I've felt that way for a long time. Not that I don't appreciate my alone time, my solitude; I do. I just like having the people I admire, care about, and love close at hand. I enjoy seeing people I love, seeing them happy, looking at the things they've made and accomplished. It means a lot to me, since I'm so social. This isolation, this stark contrast to what we are meant to do is torture for me. A special kind of hell.

The other thing the series brings to light is that something not unlike that situation could very well happen. Perhaps not to that degree, not to that severity, but I can't see things continuing as they are. The ideas like Mad Max could certainly happen- ownership of resources like water, or the shortage of oil which will come to pass eventually. What will people do? People can all too easily collapse into violence and chaos, rather than the spirit of community... because of how things are now. Each for his own. What do I possibly owe my neighbor? Or anyone here? There is no feeling of allegiance, of any kind of kinship really. We live on the same soil, and there it ends. Odd. So, damn, odd.

flirting my way out

2009-11-16T00:41:00.000-05:00

Sat, October 4, 2008
Well. If I am to be in exile, as it seems, with a long cold winter ahead, why not find a way to warm it? What better way to warm a chilly night than with a lover.

Yes, a lover.

Almost two years ago, I began wishing for love, real and deep and true. Although I have had some amazing experiences and frustrating situations since then, I am feeling like I need to put the whole idea on hold because I am not where I want to be (geographically speaking). I decided, then, to no longer entertain the idea of having just lovers (much to the chagrin of my favorite long standing lover, Richard...) but to wait patiently (or not so patiently, in my frustrated little heart) for the connection that would make my soul sing, my heart ring with joy. Well. That isn't going to happen here, in the flat and dry expanse that is Ohio. I do not feel called to settle here; I am here to learn, to hone my skills as a doctor to a fine point (or at least begin to) and then jump free of it to the warmth of California.

What then, of the winter? It has been hard enough to come home, day after day, to only kitties and my books, the internet and telephone. With only a simulated boyfriend for company when the darkness settles, and I wind my way down to sleep. Oh, believe me, I don't begrudge my synthetic boyfriends at all! I even have a new blown glass friend to keep me company... he's quite lovely, actually. It just isn't the same. I'm a sensual girl, and crave the warmth of flesh. It's in our blood to do so. Deprivation causes so many problems otherwise.

So... I will seek a lover. Casually, and without any serious hunting. Manifestation is usually key for me. I am relaxing the romantic ideas I harbor in my secret heart, to allow myself a dalliance that will at least let me find some comfort and laughter, pleasure and joy through the cold months, the months remaining here... in exile. After all, I *am* a witch. "all acts of love and pleasure are my rites". Indeed. I have never shied away from it until these past few years; and so I return to it, to better spend my time with laughter than with moping alone in my cute little apartment. Nothing heavy or cloying; nothing serious. Just fun, joy, pleasure. Safely, of course, I hear you my friends.

blessed be.

exile

2009-11-16T00:40:00.000-05:00

Wed, October 1, 2008
Some nights, I have a clear recognition that being here feels an awful lot like being in Panama. The parallel is weird. There, I lived alone in a little house, surrounded by people who were very nice and liked me a lot, but didn't understand me even slightly. I don't mean the language barrier, either; oh, we got along just fine in our conversations. (Except a few hilarious and notable language errors on my part... *blush*). I worked hard, doing what I was set there to do, and did a good job. But I was so alien, in looks, concept, behavior and so on that there was just a gap that could never be bridged. I was tall, blonde and fair, rode a horse with the vigor of a man (women do not typically ride there; I had two horses), and extremely educated. I never flaunted any possessions and worked at living as close to their means as I could. The differences, though, they just could not be reconciled.

Whenever I could I would go to the city to meet up with other volunteers, so we could speak English and just have each other's company. I never really connected with anyone of them either. It was good to be with them, but it never truly eased the loneliness I felt- this was long before I met any of my tribe and learned who I truly am now. I just felt as if I were in suspended animation, exiled, waiting for some epiphany to guide me towards where I needed to be, who I needed to be.

Now, I live in my little apartment, surrounded by people who seem perfectly nice but want nothing to do with me (or each other). I work hard, doing what I have set out to do; doing what they require of me, and more, so that I can be the vet I want to be, without complaint. People at work are nice, but they don't get me at all. I am often the butt of some very good natured teasing, but it is teasing based on things that seemed so normal where I came from and are now so out of place that people can't help but comment on it. My relationships to people are, therefore, based on being a mentor or mentee, held at arm's length and considered 'strange but sweet'. No one wants to get too close. To be fair, I have no real desire to be close to anyone I work with; but my life consists of work, work, and hang out at my apartment.

What a parallel. What an odd and aching parallel. I was very mixed in Panama, psyched to be there doing what I was doing, living the dream. But I was melancholy all the time, lonely as hell and wishing for my tribe, for company, for a kindred soul. And now here I am, a woman wiser and older, finding the same melancholic pall hanging over my shoulders as I find myself once again alone in exile. Yes, I put myself here as I placed myself in Panama. I am here to do what I am doing, and I am glad for it. Still, after four years of vet school sacrifice and loneliness brought on by long hours buried under books, I have forgotten what it is like to have a friend who just pops by for a visit. Wow! That would be so amazing.

It feels bittersweet now, but the winter is coming. Winter is always hard for me. When there is snow and free time, friends and blankets and hot chocolate, I manage just fine. I cross country ski, relish in the snow on the trees as I whoosh through the woods... but there is none of that here, not aplenty as there was in MA. There is not as much snow here, I am told. Just grey, and cold. I worry. I need some good friends.

I'm quite grateful for the friends I *do* have. The bonds have not weakened with distance; I have been able to speak on the phone, and via email to many. It warms my heart. I appreciate every thought that comes my way; I spend time when I am driving long hours thinking of those I have left up north. The wonderful women I am only just getting to know, and sadly have left. Oh! I can't reconcile it, it's too hard. Damn! I think sometimes.

Well, I chose this. I chose to be here, and dedicate myself to this year of study and work. I can go anywhere in the world as of next July, and I am called to warmer weather. And kindred folk who understand me. I want to be where it is not so odd to be vegetarian, to eat spinach, to drink smoothies everyday, to dance with fire, bellydance and be a witch. To be me.

missing the forest

2009-11-16T00:37:00.000-05:00

Thu, September 11, 2008
It is dawn. The stars are out, not diluted at all by even a hint of the sun that is to come. The moon has long since set, hiding her face from me as absolutely as could be imagined. The air has acquired a chill in the last week or two... I feel this keenly as I walk briskly, warming up for my run.

Because, you see, I can't stop.

I began running as a way to connect with joy to the Wood I lived near in Massachusetts. It was an amazing way to weave the magic of that tiny plot of forest in and around my heart and soul. There were stories there, stories I coaxed out with every bounding stride, breath puffing in and out as I charged up and down tree lined hills, on paths softened by pine needles and loam. I felt free, alive and wild; my mind was loose and comfortable, sensing Stag Kings, wolves and imaginary steeds with every single run I had there.

Still I run. I run to keep my stamina, to keep my sanity in this sprawling confusion of urbanity thrust upon a rural people. There is no magic here, where I am able to run. In the early morning, before dawn even arrives, I run on the barren edges of the road, with only weeds to show the spirit of Mother Nature where she wishes to remain untamed. There is no Wood. No forest, no nurturing place of magic in the trees. Each day I run, I feel the burden of it as if it is forced upon me, another chore; this saddens me, that something so joyful could become this way in my heart. There are no stories when I run. Only me, and the dawn, and the cars- trying to survive long enough to make it home before the sun even stains the sky.

I did not realize quite how much that forest sustained my spirit until I no longer had it to run amok in. It may not have been very vast, or even very remote; but believe me, there was magic there- magic that spawned all the stories I have written here over the last few years. Here, things are not so. There are many planned 'communities'- sprawling villages of apartments and condos, rich looking homes lording over what was once farm or pasture land. The trees that there are, are planted according to someone's drawing. They stand stately and lovely in a very sterile way.

Luckily, there are the Metro Parks. I have discovered a few that boast some forest, forest that even retains a bit of wildness to it. However, it is not the same. I run there on weekends to remind myself of the wild joy I had when I began this habit- this habit of trail running... but there is still no room for stories and magic, as I compete for space among walking couples, other joggers, dogs and children who all seek to savor a bit of wildness that is so lacking here.

The only comfort I retain is that I may ride my pony when I am able. This brings me a great measure of peace. We have recently had to move, however; from a place that sported many wildflower fields to one of a place of rules, where horses may only be ridden in a proper ring, with one attired properly in a helmet and so forth. He is there, earning his keep as I could no longer afford to pay to keep him in the comforting chaos of where he was. While I do believe this will be good for him- think of it! LIttle girls riding him over jumps, which he loves, and even the prospect of seeing him go to some shows next spring! It is not nearly as magical for me, being bereft of fields of wildflowers to romp in, where I could once again capture strands of stories and keep it from feeling like work.

Ah, well. These are the sacrifices we make. These are the sacrifices I have made in order to become the doctor I imagine myself to be. I came here knowing it would not be nourishing for my spirit, but that it would bolster my confidence and make me an amazing veterinarian. I am learning so much I am fairly bursting with it. But! I am lonely... I miss my friends, my goddess sisters, my forest, and my boyfriend. I miss what I have not even had in the four years of vet school- that easy companionship and friendship where one can just drop by and hang out. Someday, someday! For now my life is one of on call every other day, lots of work and learning until I feel my head will pop. Challenges to my wit, my character, my knowledge and courage; I take it all in stride. Still. It is hard to do all this without the pleasure of fine company, without the lovely every day life that so many of my friends take for granted. One day! One day I too will have that back. For now, the kitties and I snuggle with wine, books and movies, and I find all the ways I can eat chocolate and remain healthy. Cheers.

broken truck, zombies and children of the corn

2009-11-16T00:35:00.000-05:00

Wed, July 2, 2008
Despite the fact that mercury has gone OUT of retrograde, we are plagued by transportation issues. Well... it could be that we (the equine ambulatory service) are working for a large LARGE university, and saving money by buying or keeping crappy vehicles is the name of the game.

Anyway. This is my second week. I still don't have a truck, so on call time is rather tricky for me. I'm still riding with the others, however, so it isn't so bad. The doc I am riding with, a 5 foot tall spitfire of a woman with a wicked sense of humor, a self proclaimed bitchy attitude, and a mouth like a trucker, has managed to render useless three university trucks in the space of 2 days. Her vet truck is a piece of crap. It's brand new and has all these issues and is in and out of the dealer every couple of weeks. That one is now in the shop. Which means we are going to drive?

"That flaming pile, parked out back. Go get it." Yes- a POS white pickup with a cracked windshield, which shimmies at high speeds. We drove it yesterday, it sucked and stunk, but it was fine.
"Today, we are taking that other flaming pile." The vet truck the old intern used to drive. Well... they got it started, she got in it, drove it a little ways before discovering it has NO BRAKES, parked it and shut it off... and it would not start again. Truck # 2, out of commission, towed away.

So we took Flaming Pile today, "Hilljack" style as she called it- a cardboard box in the back seat next to the student, piled with the stuff we'd need for the day, but pitifully lacking in the basics you need for any vet emergency... oh well.

We were driving along, headed towards lunch. Suddenly all the warning and emergency lights came on, then some buzzers, and the truck was having some sort of seizure. She got all excited at it and started swearing... and then, it was gone. Blank. No controls (except that the F'N RADIO STILL F'N WORKED). She, all 5 feet of her, stood up on the brake pedal and steered that Flaming Pile with all her might towards the side of the road. We were all concentrating so hard on willing the damn thing to safety that we didn't notice where we were.

Somewhere in rural Ohio, on a backroad (yet one that has a 50 mph sign), past fields of corn... we managed to pull into a shady spot on the side of the road, where the grass helped stop its progress and it ground to a halt.

To the left, across the road, was a field of corn.

To the right... abandoned trucks and cars. And a great, big empty abandoned creepy house, overgrown with windows missing, completely shielded from view by the road by a row of overgrown shrubs and trees.

WTF.

She went into a frenzy of calling everyone at the university to get us help. They were willing to call a tow, but NO ONE CARED ABOUT THE PEOPLE. "We can't help you with that, sorry."
"How about a cab? A groom? Someone?"
"No, sorry... can't help you..."

Are you F'n kidding me???

Mean while we had dissolved into complete hysterics (and hysteria) in the cab of the truck. Firstly, out of nowhere a little old man in a tiny Kia came out of the backyard (which was filled with abandoned cars). He entreated us to move the truck as he was on a very important errand to get pizza.

?????????

So we three women pushed that Flaming Pile up 5 feet to let the little car out. And the little elfin/trollish old man in it. It was really really bizarre, friends, truly. Where did he come from? We got curious. I said:
"You know, this is the part where the zombies come out of the house. Or the cult comes from the backyard and brings us to the shed in the back."
"yeah- pizza for WHO? The cult, or the voices in his head?"
Weird, people, really f'n weird.

All this time we have the passenger doors open, and the hazard lights on. Suddenly the truck went into a heart attack. The needles in the gauges all went wild, flipping up in a weirdly heartbeating rhythm; then the clicking of the hazards sped up (tachycardia! It's having a heart attack!) We dissolved once again into hysterics, screaming for the drugs we sadly did not have... and then FLATLINE!!! Yes, it actually made that horrific long drawn out beep, the needles lay down for the last time and the hazards then shut off forever.

She then starts flipping out-
"This F'n Flaming Pile is gonna catch fire, blow up, something! Let's get the crap out of the damn thing before it takes us and the expensive ultrasound with it!" So out of the truck we got, all our crap piled on the grass under the big creepy cedar trees...

I then went on to say:
"Ok, this is the part where it gets really dark and we are forced to go sleep in the creepy abandoned house, where the zombies eat our brains. BRAAAAIIIINNNNSSSSS...." So then she starts yelling at me (jokingly of course).

We were rescued eventually. Our lovely secretary sacrificed her LUNCH BREAK to come and get us.

As we packed her SUV with our crap, student and us and went to drive away, I looked to the right where the abandoned cars lay quietly in the grass and saw SEVERAL SMALL CHILDREN STARING INTENTLY AT US!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(please see My Photos for additional footage of this adventure.)

thunderstorm

2009-11-16T00:34:00.000-05:00

Wed, June 4, 2008
Once again I am awake at a very odd hour for me, because I cannot sleep. The storms here are incredibly powerful; I no longer have the sweet rolling hills of Massachusetts to temper their force.

I used to be paralyzingly terrified of thunderstorms. In the last few years I have slept through many storms... but now I am back where I was, ever the barometer, waking up at least a half hour before (if not sooner) and then forced to sit with fear while the storm rages outside. Was I numb these last few years, with exhaustion from vet school? Did the hostel wake up more than just my sense of wonder, but also my connection to the weather? I am pretty damn empathic and sensitive, and it has come back with a vengeance.

I became sensitive to storms as a very young lassie- I think due to a few wild and weird experiences with the poltergeist in our house and a few severe thunderstorms. These experiences were intense, and real (my mom experienced the poltergeist too, so it wasn't my own hallucination) and enough to give me a paralyzing fear.

Paralyzing fear- if you haven't got one, I'll explain: when the storm would start, I would be completely unable to move- frozen under the covers, eyes wide with terror, afraid that if I moved the storm monster or whatever would find me, see me, devour me somehow... I can't really explain. I would barely breathe.

When I got a little bit older, age 7 or so, I grew bold enough to wait until the roll of thunder passed, and I would sprint to my mother's bed and hide underneath. She always had a dust ruffle so I would make sure I was hidden, and wait out the storm there. Only when I was absolutely certain the storm had passed would I brave the trek back to my bed. I don't know if she knew I was doing that (I'm pretty sure she was sleeping) and she never brought it up.

This behavior came to a screaming halt one night (literally) when I was 12, ashamed and way too old to still be afraid and hiding under the bed. My stepdad, feeling bad for me, reached down to pet me... but his timing was horribly, horribly off. He reached down just as lightening lit up the room, so my worst fear came true- a hand! The lightening was going to get me! I screamed in fear and woke my mom up, who started yelling at me (out of her own fear, I'm sure). That was that. After that night I began to creep into my little brother's bed (that bastard slept like a rock, never EVER knew, don't you dare tell him) until the shame of that also grew too much to bear. So I began to wait it out alone again, paralyzed in my bed.

When I was 17 I moved into my first apartment in Sunderland, with Danielle. The first storm in my apartment came when she wasn't home. Dammit! I had graduated to being ok as long as other people were in the house. Well- I was alone in an apartment that (as it turns out) also had some spirit activity (faeries, we think, as things were constantly being misplaced and moved around.) That night I had a life changing experience. I got out of bed because I heard voices, and to my complete amazement, there were people yahooing and hooting, hollering, cartwheeling in the parking lot in the rain, shouting up to the sky as the thunder roared!

What a thought!

Emboldened, I went out onto the stoop and stood under the awning, huddled with my neighbors who didn't wish to get wet but still wanted to holler... with...

JOY!
Yes, joy for the storm. I couldn't believe it. Since I always felt better with other people, I stayed on that stoop with my new neighbors and began to understand the joy of the storm. After that night, I turned my fear into fascination with an edge of excitement- that feeling you get when you are scared but somehow enjoying it. (I still feel better if someone is within reach though.) I began to be able to fall asleep more quickly after a storm; and in the past four years have even slept through some of them. A barometer no longer, so I thought.

The last few storms, though, I have once again been acutely aware. I'm no longer paralyzed but definitely tense when alone. I can't help it. Having the kitties around helps, since they were sleeping until that one loud and close crack...

Undercover Faeries from the Forest

2009-11-16T00:28:00.000-05:00

Mon, June 2, 2008
Whirring of wings... tinkling glass in the gentle breeze... tittering laughter held by the branches, released into the sky... the sunlight dappled the soft sand path as the faeries gathered at the little dome, irridescent and rippling in the tender light that filtered through the canopy of leaves. They gathered and in a myriad of soft voices discussed the need for a scouting to the outside world.
"There are some supplies we need, someone must go!"
"I wish to see the great mother ocean again!"
"It is time once again to explore the human world and see what is going on! Our world is surrounded by humanity... we must always keep an eye to the border, see what must be seen!"
And so it went on this way for a time, running between the hilarity of what must be out there, to the silent fear of what must be faced.
Finally a brave group was chosen.

In the way of faeries, it took quite a long time for the scouting party to leave. The faeries, you see, had a few human things to help them to cope and blend with the outside world; but as time does not pass in the regular way in the Forest, and possessions do not have the same significance, it took quite some time to locate the keys to the cars the faeries kept, and to gather the entire party into agreement to leave at once.

In time, the faeries split up into two scouting parties and departed.

Two of the faerie women left by the long winding tree tunnel road. They giggled all the way to the car, as the enormity of what they were undertaking had not yet sunk in. Tittering they went, passing on silent bare feet under the sweet filtered sunlight to the car. In the car they giggled at the controls and the keys, until finally they settled into the seriousness of what was to be.
"ooh, the outside world! Can we really do this?" one of them exclaimed.
"We can! We must remember we are undercover!" the other replied.

And so they maneuvered the car down the long dappled road overhung with trees, the music of Faerie resounding in their ears, soothing their passage. Up ahead they saw the end of the tree tunnel, a giant upside-down U of bright light, with cars ripping through their vision at incredible speeds. They crawled the car up to the entrance and opened the gate. For a time they sat parked, facing the sunlight, as their vision was adjusted to the delicate sunlight of the Forest and not at all to the glaring bare Road with its bright bare light!
"oooh! wow!" they giggled as they sat.

Soon the other scout party roared by in their car, pulling over to wait. The parties were united on the road and began their trek to the Mother Ocean. Along the highway they went, their senses overwhelmed by the brightness and speed of all the things around them. Having lived under the trees in a place that does not care to keep time or a fast pace, they were shocked by how time passed, and by the sights around them. They squealed at the sights as they drove- flowers by the side of the road, shiny signs, people and fast cars everywhere.
"What stories we will have for them!"
"We must remember to act human when we get out of this car!"
"How is it we will manage?"

Finally they made it to the ocean. It was a wonderous place of salt, sand, and sea. It was a place where the trees appeared to have walked to the shore to die, becoming great monoliths of sculpture, beautiful pieces of art worn by the harsh elements there. The scouting party played and cavorted along the shore, climbing the great dead trees, splashing as merfolk in the lovely sea water.

After a time the faeries grew hungry and decided to scout for food. They drove once again on the human roads and decided to eat at a human eating place. This was perhaps the most strange experience they had, for they had to interact with people and remember how to act as one of them. Although they felt they were doing a good job, their keen eyes and ears picked up the resonance that perhaps they weren't blending quite as well as they could. At this they laughed, and took joy in causing confusion... why not?

Two of the faeries departed to fly a long way to the North, where their own clan lived. The rest of the scouting party returned to the comfort and safety of the Forest, reveling in the gentleness and timelessness of the place; in the good food, thankfulness and company there.
"Life is difficult for humans outside the Forest!" said one.
"Yes... scouting parties, they are so necessary, but I for one am glad to be home."

testosterone

2009-11-16T00:27:00.000-05:00

Wed, February 6, 2008
Dimly through the music playing in my ears as I practiced dancing with my poi I began to hear deep voices, laughter and the slam! slam! of a basketball on the other side of the divider. I kept dancing, ignoring the sound- I usually have the gym to myself, with just the runners on the track over my head. As I lay on the ground practicing my ground moves (plow pose, poi spinning above my ass) I suddenly realize there's a jarhead on the track above me shouting and grinning to whomever is dribbling on the other side. Laughter and shouts greet him, he's taking pictures of them with his cell phone, grinning like a maniac.

I finish dancing and go change into my track sneaks. I've been running on that second story track lately, to keep my stamina in preparation for spring running in the woods. As I get onto the track I realize that there is an entire pack of jarheads on the court now, booming laughter, pushing each other, general big dude mayhem as they organize their game. There's a smorgasboard down there, all races and colors, but they look like they've all come out of the same press mold. All roughly 6 feet tall, shaved heads or flattops, t-shirts tight across the pecs, shorts and sneakers.

They start their game. This is no ordinary polite game of pickup. They're screaming like monkeys, slamming each other into the walls, the floor, each other... they're out for bruises and blood. The game starts to heat up, primal screams and booming laughter, deep shouts echo off the walls as they start to really sweat. Every now and then one or another will watch me cruise by.

As they start to sweat, the heat and energy of their game starts to rise. If it had a scent, it would be fierce and pungent, with sharp teeth and intent. Suddenly I realize I am reacting to this, this invisible, ephemeral cloud of sweat and pheromones carrying up to the second floor track. You would never catch me giving my phone number to any one of these guys; alone, they are not attractive- but as a sweaty group, screaming and pushing and joyous, it is intoxicating. I am their captive audience, running around and around, the grin on my foolish face getting wider and wider. My stride lengthens, my energy rises, I am sweating along with them- stupid body, I was born to react to this even if I am intellectually uninterested. Biology. I start to ache for spring. Their screams make me laugh, I can't seem to help it. As soon as my time is up I get the hell out of there. Wow.

blood orange

2009-11-16T00:26:00.000-05:00

Sat, January 19, 2008
I have a strange quirk. Ok, I have many, but this one seems to amuse people far more than it should.

I sniff my fruit before I buy it. If I can't smell it, it goes back. It's not just any sniff, but a deep inhale. Having a wonderfully unique nose, which I believe is designed for such a delicate and sensual task, I am sensitive to the scent of fruit and will not buy it if: 1. I cannot smell it and 2. if the smell is disagreeable to me. Such a habit appeals, also, to my sensual nature... everything must be artistic or romantic my heart for me to enjoy life. And I make it so.

So. A few incidences have happened in the local grocery around this odd habit which make me laugh (I am my own favorite clown.)

I walked into the grocery to buy a few things to prepare for my trip to Ohio. I always start in the fruit aisle, so that I can set the mood into food sensuality and obtain that sense of Zen I get when I shop there. (I cook in my head as I walk, that's how I roll). Sadly the pomegranates are gone (a definite seductive favorite of mine) and I moved on to look for something else fabulous to concentrate on.

And then I saw them. Oh! Blood oranges!!!! Inside I squealed like a little girl, a shiver running from my heart (which did, in fact, skip a beat) down to my toes, a blush coming into my cheeks. I know I had a smile of a mad woman, and dashed forward to bury my hands in the pile. Oh, the perfect one, let's start with the perfect one... just a little blush, the best scent, not too ripe, there it is, yes... oh yes... I pick up the fruit, bring it to the nose (just close enough to very nearly touch) and AAAAHHHHH.... gently held in the fingers, nice deep sniff. Then several small sniffs, eyes closed. Oh, I was right. It IS perfect, this is the one. Yes.

I open my eyes and look up, out. Straight into the eyes of a guy who was picking out some broccoli. He had the oddest look on his face, and if I was privy to his thoughts it would go something like this:
"That's fucking weird, man, but somehow sexy and I am confused as hell"
To me, of course, it was all as in a French film, at an outdoor market. Gorgeous.

Another incident was much funnier.
In March, I was beginning my rotations, completely unaccustomed to working at all much less being on my feet for hours and hours. After work one day I went to the grocery. And headed, as usual, for the fruit.

Pears were coming into season. Nothing smells just as extraordinarily like it tastes as a ripe pear. The scent will tell you when it's ripe, when it is ready and begging for your teeth. Oh yes. I went over to the bin and selected a Bartlett, after gently pressing its flesh with my fingers to find it firm but with some give... likely perfect... is it? Bring it to the nose, close the eyes...
Oh, but I am so tired... so tired........ I was falling asleep on my feet as it was and my head hung just a bit too low as I inhaled the fine scent of this likely specimen. My eyes stayed closed perhaps a bit too long and when I opened them I noted a person in my peripheral vision. Startled, I turned my head with a somewhat guilty expression on my face (as one would assume when gently kissing a clandestine lover at a train station, perhaps???) to look into the eyes of the intern on my rotation.
"good pear, is it?"
"heh, uh, yeah, I, uh, sniff fruit. I mean, I like fruit, I sniff it to pick the best ones. Um."

how in the world do you explain that? What a weirdo.

the Winter Wood

2009-11-16T00:25:00.000-05:00

Mon, January 14, 2008
My heart is full to the bursting right now! I have not been to the Wood in weeks, and I had forgotten how it fulfills me, how it completely satisfies my senses, in so many ways.

We were let out early as the hospital was 'closed'- pared down to essential personnel, and as we had no appointments, we left. I went home, put on my black ski pants, bright green shirt, black fleece vest, long green elf hat... and... my SKIS!!!!

I skied on over through the cemetery to the Wood. It is amazing how the sound falls away as soon as I enter. Only the squeak and shush of snow beneath the skis as I whisk along. Though it has been many months since they've been on my feet, my body knows them well- I've been doing this for years now, years.

The magic of the wood came over me immediately, giving my thoughts stillness, and filling my heart with love. That's what I decided today- it is a deep sense of well being, of feeling enveloped and complete. Love. I love that place, deeply, and I feel such gratitude that it is there and that I can enjoy it like this.

Slowly I made my way to the Pine Grove. That is the heart of it, the place that holds the most magic and peace. I was careful as I went, careful not to disturb pine boughs hanging low and heavy with snow. Such perfection, in the path, deep white snow with boughs hanging in arches over the path. So breathtaking, so beautiful, amazing. Tracks everywhere- rabbits, deer, chipmunk.

I entered the Pine Grove and as I came around the bend I heard an owl. I went into the center of the Grove and waited. Beneath me is a little valley (a perfect 'jump' for snowmobiles and skis, as it is used for these days). The bowl was glowing in the afternoon light, that odd blue of perfect, untouched deep snow. No one had been here yet, the snow was completely undisturbed. I stood there for a long time drinking in that light and listening to the owl.

As I skied the road home, I was gifted the sight of the sky turning rose above Hayes Pond. I have no words, because I will say beautiful and amazing over and over. It is true, though, that is what I feel.

At last I feel some peace, like something that was missing was returned to me. I had not imagined how much I relied on the Wood, and on exercise in general, to keep my senses in line with who I truly am. There is no bitterness and anger in me as I travel there, it is impossible. There is only love and peace, and I need it as much if not more than I need the food I eat each day. If only there was room to keep me going there every day as I would wish. Someday soon! Someday I will have my life as I want it, and I imagine myself relaxing back into the oddly optimistic and cheerful nymph I know myself to be.

Tomorrow I will return, if I am out before the light fails.

Passing with Grace

2009-11-16T00:23:00.000-05:00

Wed, January 2, 2008
I wish I could have been with every single person I care about for New Year's, but alas! I have not mastered the art of teleporting or cloning... so I had to make a tough choice of where to go, and committed myself to a grand adventure. NYC and CoSM.

I had a great time, danced myself into a lather... for hours and hours.

Ms Imani held an intention ritual, where we would think about the lessons we have learned in the past year, and things we want to let go of... followed by thoughts of what we wish to call in this New Year. Although I did something very similar for Solstice (thank you A and K) I found myself flowing with it, and let what needed to appear come forward.

I found that the vision of the fire still holds a lot of power for me. It was difficult to stand in the street watching it all burn. So during the ritual, a daydream began... a daydream, a vision, of how to heal and go beyond it.

I stood in the street watching the house burn. Looking up at the second story window, my bedroom window, with flames licking out and skyward. I was standing, naked... levitated up to the window, with an incredible sense of peace and calm. Naked, I walked through the window, as flames roared around me. Slowly, I walked through the room with my arms out, fingers out stretched, caressing the essence of all the dreams, hopes, wishes and magic held in the objects found there. Impressions of these things, links to my past, swirled around me in eddys, catching on my fingertips and whisping away. I did not try to hold onto anything, just looked objectively and calmly at all the objects burning around me.

I continued through the house and sought my cats. I found them with thought, in their final resting place; I did not go and see them, but sent them waves upon waves of peace and love. Calm. Sleep. It's alright, let go. I am with you.

Out through the kitchen, smoke, but nothing touches me but the essence of what was there. Plants- let them go... everything whirling gently around, almost indistinguishable from smoke, and whisping away. Out of the door I went, and came to the porch, stepped down and stood looking at the backyard. I was naked still, unharmed by fire or smoke, whole. Those things I touched were with me in memory but gone, as should be; let go.

This vision of naked-through-the-flames continued as I began to think of the trauma of some of this education; the humiliation and suffering caused by stress and striving. Naked, I let the yelling and suffering roll down my back and flow into the earth- grounded. Not a hair on me is harmed. Coolness, smoothness... I am whole. Let go.

I have my wishes, now, my intentions for the new year. I hold them inside, gently with cupped hands as one holds a lily; I will not squash my dreams but keep them from harm, anchored as one can be anchored by a feather.

It was only one day off, but I feel refreshed and ready to face this year. I am ready to let go of the trauma and suffering brought by 2007, the needless and endless fear of the future. It is what it is. Good things are coming.

I wish you all peace and fulfillment of your desires and dreams in the new year.
blessed be.

Stuck on the Train Tracks!

2009-11-16T00:21:00.000-05:00

Fri, December 21, 2007
This sort of thing only happens to me, I swear. My life is a crazy jumble of misadventures... I truly, truly am the Queen of Chaos. This really happened, so sit back, laugh and enjoy.

It was cold when I stepped out of the house; I left a little earlier, sick of being late for morning rounds because I had so many patients to care for. Blearily I got into my car and started my short, one mile drive.

It was slushy, so I decided to go up to the light rather than through my usual shortcut (which is poorly plowed). As I got towards the light I saw a short little road that seemed to lead to the main road and avoid the light- a 15 foot shortcut! Wow, I wonder who plowed that? Well, fuck it, I'm taking it.

Uh, yeah.

I got about 7 feet in and was hopelessly, thorougly wedged. It was not plowed, it was an illusion. Oh, but it gets worse. I get out of the car to try and dislodge it myself (ha!) and suddenly I realize I have a clear line of sight... down... THE TRAIN TRACKS.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I tried to take a shortcut down the tracks that run through downtown Grafton. Brilliant.
Fucking brilliant.

Now, this is a tiny factory train that runs twice daily and goes about 5 MPH. But it's still a TRAIN!!!

So the guy that lives next to this particular stretch is watching me pace and curse; he tried to help me but it was hopeless- train tracks are slippery on the best of days.

I called AAA. They were panicked that I was stuck on tracks ("no, you don't understand, it goes 5 MPH, please just get me out of here"). They called Grafton Police for me to try to get me a truck sooner.

Here's the kicker.

THE COPS NEVER CAME.

Hello???

someone is STUCK ON TRAIN TRACKS and they don't bother to show??? I mean, there's no crime here, someone speeds about once per month. what the fuck were they doing all morning?

It took two hours for a truck to come and get me. Meanwhile I was shaking, stressed, freaked out... hopelessly, horribly late on a day I was to be on time...

this shit only happens to me.

They called me Nell at school (who Dick Dastardly tied to the tracks) and I will never hear the end of it.

Troll

2009-11-16T00:20:00.000-05:00

Thu, November 22, 2007
The fog of the morning burned away with the noon sun, and the gentle surprise was how warm it got. Out into the Wood I went, to run among the trees. I was not five minutes under the deep canopy when I realized it was warmer than I thought, so I stripped down to my tank top and let the delicious air sluice over my skin like water. This warmth made me so happy I was fleet of foot, running toes out with high steps. Lovely.

Throughout the Wood there are several footbridges. The Wood, on the whole, is very loved and well cared for, somewhat mysteriously. All of the bridges are clean, whole, and sturdy... all except for one, that is.

Thump! Thump! Thump! Over the first bridge I go, the surety of feet over water, my steps careless. Up the bank I fly, never looking back. These bridges are something, though; the streams in this place are nestled deep in gullies, so that the paths rush down at the bridge and back up with some pretty hearty inclines- so I am always flying down, arms out, and flying back up on my toes.

Through the Wood I go, over rocks and logs, slaloming from bank to bank on some of the river-carved paths. I passed on the edge of the Wood by a field, and came to the not-so-nice bridge. In fact- I use the word 'bridge' rather loosely here; several broken down palates, carelessly tossed there at some point to ward away the mud that collected there. Yes- it was not even a stream to note, just a place where water sometimes collected in stagnant pools and made the traveller inconvenienced for having to scramble over broken boards, slippery boulders and loose rocks. My strategy is to land square on the most whole of the wood, then onto the nearest boulder, and try to clear the whole mess in two strides.

I landed neatly on the palate, which made a distinct sucking sound from yesterday's melted snow. Off I sprang, onto a boul---
*HEY!*
--and splat, right onto my ass, half in the mud and half in the bushes.

That was a rock that yelled at me, it was. No, it's (holy shit) moving, WTF???
The rock turned around, slowly, and glared at me. Not a rock. A troll (?). A rather small, but angry troll.

(Dunyan was not pleasant, as trolls go (and trolls are not known for their friendliness or hospitality, in general.) He'd spent his long life in the Wood, dealing with the fact that he was too small to have any of the real bridges- those all were taken by his bretheren. The others of his kind took every opportunity to remind him of his small stature; either by beating the crap out of him, or taunting him and his rat trap 'bridge' at every opportunity.

And now this. Some big cow clod of a girl, jumping on his head as if he didn't have enough of a headache. She sat there blinking at him, and he wanted to laugh, except that he was pissed beyond words.)

I started to pick myself out of the mud, unsure whether or not I should be afraid of the thing. Troll? Gnome? I though trolls were bigger.

"I'm sorry I stomped on you. I didn't see you. You, ah, blend in." He did; his hat and overcoat were the color of, well, mud; and he and the clothing were misshapen so as to look like- rocks. Yes, rocks. Muddy rocks.
"Sorry, eh? Yeah you and everyone else. You know, this ain't your woods; ain't mine neither but this IS my bridge and you ain't gotta be steppin on it, or me! I's just tryin to live, do my job here takin care of my bridge, and you an everyone else in this stinkin Wood always steppin all over me. People, dogs (don't get me started on dog shit, neither!), hell even the damn coons! No respet, none at all."
I just stared at him. Whatever I expected from my first encounter with a (troll? Gnome?) I knew it wasn't going to be pleasant, but certainly not a tirade like this.
"Yes, well, Mr.- uh, what is your name?"
"Dunyan. And before you ask I'm NOT a gnome, those simpering little garden farts."
"Right, I knew you were a troll. Had to be. Anyway, really, I am sorry."

heh heh

White Magic and the Stag King

2009-11-16T00:19:00.000-05:00

Tue, November 20, 2007
The first snow, falling; I sat at my table, fidgety, wanting to go run and play. All morning I studied away until the anxiety over the exam and the need to burn off the adrenalin of fear became apparent... and finally the sharp desire to bounce into the cold won out.

It was cold, but I was somewhat bundled. Snow does something to me; excites me, and quiets me all at once. Fills me with a sense of magic and richness. It makes the winter bearable, wonderful...

And so I ran. I ran carefully, up on the balls of my feet, bouncing gently along the path. Going up hills, avoiding rocks now hidden not just under leaves now but under snow as well. This all I managed gracefully, sailing over fallen logs and small streams, rocks and gullies. Pure bliss. After a while I found my stride and felt my muscles relax, and felt I could go at that pace all day long- and probably could.

I came to the part of the forest dominated by pines, thick with green. This part of the forest is especially lovely; quiet, serene, covered in needles and so kind to the senses. When I leapt over the fallen stone wall the sharp scent of resin hit my nose, stronger than ever before, and this startled me to a stop in the middle of the bed of pine needles. There was something else mixed in with the strong balsam scent- something wild, something at once strange and familiar. It was so quiet, so very quiet- even still, I sensed rather than hear the movement off to the side of the clearing I stood in.

There, in the branches, I saw a face. I nearly leapt out of my skin; eyes peering into mine, aware, alive and oh so old. So very very old, yet young and beautiful all at once. He carefully stepped clear of the branches and I began to see what I missed when he was hidden in the pines- graceful antlers rising out of his thick hair... that, and he was not wearing all that much. Tall. So very tall, as the trees, and strong- a perfect visage of the humanesque hunter, but alien to it, a thing in itself.

The heat in my body from the run rose entirely up to my face. And to my thighs. One cannot look upon this kind of intense male beauty without feeling it call to the deepest core, the primal self. I stood there only breathing, just breathing- it was all I could manage. This face, this face- I could only gaze and admire, it had in it elements of every male I have ever loved, befriended, cared for- everything I have ever admired in that fine half of our species. And yet it held more, so much more; wisdom and experience, deep care and yet a frightening carelessness that I understood somewhere in my mind.

He advanced towards me, and I stood frozen as a doe on the soft powder covered needles. I was as unable to move as if I had been frozen there in time. It did not matter- I would never have moved for all the world. Those eyes, they never left mine; deep forest pools, green and blue and brown and yellow all at the same time, brighter than anything else in my vision. I could not speak, and he did not need to. When he was but a foot from me, the scent of him filled my lungs- pine, musk, wheat, wild, earth, snow- I am unable to say perfectly what it was. I could not bear to look at his face anymore, too much, longing filling my heart, and so I closed my eyes. The rest of me knew exactly how far away he was and how slowly he approached me. When he reached me, I felt a touch on my hand, lips on my face- right between my brows, on my third eye.

A howling filled my ears at that touch. Wings, whinnies, the scream of a wildcat. Hoofbeats, growls and cries I could not discern. The whole of animal kind filled my ears, my heart. I gasped aloud with the sheer weight of it- pain? I cannot say. The cries filled me and were gone, so fast. They were gone but I was filled with something, some sense... I opened my eyes and the Stag King was gone. I stood (alone?) in the clearing, facing the pond nestled in a gully nearby. The light, so odd, reflected off the pond and I felt incredibly alive.

wolf

2009-11-16T00:18:00.000-05:00

Tue, November 13, 2007
I went for a jog today at 4:30 (got out early) in the woods, thinking it would be enough time for 45 minutes maybe before it gets dark. Uh, yeah. It's dark now and it isn't quite 5:30.

So I was way out (I cover a lot of ground) and no where to go but back out... through the woods... could barely see my hands, since the twilight in the forest happens far sooner. It's ok... I'm a good trailblazer, use the rest of my senses to guide me back out. Anyway, deep in the woods where the old stone walls lay crumbling, no where to go but back out... and came up with another tale. Enjoy.

We were loping along as fast as we could, my mare and I, through the tunnel made by the trees. Twilight was on us, that strange quality of light that tricks you into thinking you can see when really your peripheral vision is the only reliable source of information. I knew that the road lay a ways ahead, along with some form of civilization, and I was eager to reach it. There is something about the forest at night that never leaves me at ease, no matter how many years I have been a witch.

Suddenly the mare shied and snorted. She had some sense about her, though, and kept her head- and I saw what she was looking at. I gasped aloud- there, on the path, was a full grown gray wolf. It stood in the middle so we could not pass, looking calmly at us as we came to a rather ungraceful stop, all legs and rattling stones. Something was strange here; it kept eye contact with me, and I did not feel afraid after the initial shock had passed. I kept the mare calm and she steadied under my hand, against her every screaming instinct. The wolf stared into my eyes, and I felt something pass; it turned, started down the path, and looked back at us again. I had the keen feeling that we were to follow... and so we did. This somehow settled my mare, making her more than a little curious- we were not being chased, but doing the chasing? Strange.

It led us down the path and a little ways down, turned quickly off into a small side path, no wider than a deer's trail. It looked back to be sure we were following. We followed the wolf for another moment or two- it was so strange, I lost track of time- as the forest grew darker and darker. It was quite easy to follow it, the gray fur shining in the dark like snow does- illuminated almost from within.

The path ended and the wolf turned, looked at us, and stepped to the side revealing what was at the end. It then walked to a large oak a little ways away and lay down, watching. The tiny clearing the path led to had the strangest sight I had yet seen- a rose bush, in full bloom, and at this time of the year! My mare snorted, again uneasy- for the magic was thick here, and it unsettled her. This and the fact that the wolf was now near enough to smell- but she quieted again, realizing it was no threat, and I dismounted, tying her to a tree on the opposite side.

I walked over to the rosebush and the smell of it was overpowering even within a few feet of it. As I walked the wolf watched me, and I it; it was alright. Right when I was within touching distance of the amazing roses, I suddenly understood what this was, and why I was here. Remember who you are, your name, your magic... it is always here...

there may be more to this story, I don't know. The woods I have been running in seem to be full for me of stories and magic. I really love running there- I can't even describe how much, or what a balm it is for my soul.

Nerina

2009-11-16T00:15:00.001-05:00

Sun, November 4, 2007
Yet another fable I dreamed up; this one on today's jog. Enjoy.

Once upon a time there lived a spoiled young noblewoman... ok, most were spoiled, but this story pertains in particular to Nerina. Nerina was young and beautiful, accustomed to having whatever she needed or wanted at a mere pout of her pretty lips, or a snap of her delicate fingers. That is, until she became smitten...

Every Saturday she saw a particular young nobleman riding through the park with his brothers. Whenever he should ride by, she would swoon and giggle with her girlfriends. What great fun, to have such a crush! They engineered many ways that she should run into him; at balls, social teas and other such gatherings. He was always the perfect gentleman; always had a smile for the pert young miss, but no more- for his heart was already set on a dark haired lady in the next town.

Eventually she grew frustrated and tired of having her subtle hints ignored (for it was not proper to come right out and tell a man, not at her age and station.) She began to become somewhat surly at having no progress, and her girlfriends grew impatient with her. One day one of them finally suggested, why not go see the Witch of the Hill? Perhaps get a love spell, or some other such charm?

She was silent at this suggestion at first, but the light returned to her eyes and they huddled down together, all whispers and mischief- finally, there was something she could do!

Everyone in the town knew of the Witch. She was respected, feared and revered for many towns around. It was said that her spells were always incredibly accurate- even deadly so, as the rumors went. The witch was not one to be toyed with, however; she was to be paid finely, always respected, and avoided if possible.

And so their plan grew thick. One fine early autumn day, the young miss and her friends set out for the Hill. She brought for the witch a fine laying hen and a beautiful filigree barrette her uncle brought her from across the ocean. For good luck (and let's be honest, she feared the witch- and so, to ward off evil) she sewed a copper coin into her bodice. At the bottom of the hill they were flush with excitement, talking in low whispers and giggles; by the time they neared the top, their hearts were pounding and they were quite silent. The friends refused to go in, but assured her they would wait by the apple tree by the gate, watching for her.

She was afraid, but raised to believe that she could do no wrong, and that she was welcome wherever she should trod with her pretty slippers. Up to the door of the cottage she went, heart pounding but head held high. On to the porch she went; but before she could knock a voice in the garden made her start and clutch her throat.

"Good day, miss. Fine day for a walk, eh?"
She looked round, and saw a beautiful old woman standing among the herbs. This was not what she expected! At least a wart or two, perhaps, maybe a torn skirt? No, this woman was tall and willowy, with long grey hair escaping her kerchief, fingers stained green from working the herbs. Her face showed the beauty it once radiated when she was young, which had only grown more refined with the years. Somehow Nerina found this harder and more fearful.

"Good day. I was wondering if I might have...a... er... word? With you? Today?"
The woman smiled pleasantly and brushed off her hands.
"Of course! It was about time I had some tea, by the by. Why don't you join me?" She looked over at the apple tree, in time to see one rosey cheek disappear behind it. "And your friends... they would perhaps like some as well?" She said with a raised eyebrow, smiling wryly.

"Oh, no; they want to enjoy the sunshine; they didn't want to come with me but I convinced them, I'd rather let them be."

And so they went into the neat little cottage. There was lace on the windows, and the cups and saucers were fine, painted with forget-me-nots and filigreed with silver. This was not at all what she had imagined, laying in her bed last night.

"Now, tell me... what did you really come here for?"

"Ah, well. Well, there's this handsome young man, you see..."

"I see. One of those, eh? Before you go any further, let me say this- mucking about with a real love spell is not at all what you would dream up. Using magic against anyone's will only goes awry, every time. The only time a love spell genuinely works is when it was among the thousands of possibilities of occurring, and merely needed a push."

"Oh, it's meant to be, I just know it! He smiles at me, and takes the time to talk to me..."

"Yes, but his heart is set on another, am I wrong?"

"How did you know?" Nerina said, looking startled, the red coming up on her cheeks.

"That is always the way these things go. Now, again, I will say; love spells only work when it is meant to happen. It can go dangerously wrong! Very dangerously! I will ask you to forget this plan; go on your merry way with your girlfriends. You are a bonny girl, you will not have any trouble finding a suitable handsome man to wed. Forget this plan- so much that you cannot imagine can happen when you play with matters of the heart."

"I beg you! I have thought of nothing but him for months on end now! Every time I see him, my heart jumps, I feel sick inside; when he speaks to me it is as a bell in my heart. I cannot go on until he takes notice of me, until he pledges himself to me!"

And so this went on, the witch kindly trying to convince the young lass against the idea of manipulating anyone with magic. The girl would not budge, and insisted.

Finally, with a sigh, the witch gave in.
"Alright. I will give you a spell, but remember that I warned you; if it is not in the realm of possibility, it will fail and there may be consequences. Of course, the consequence may only be a belly ache, I cannot say... it could be far, far worse."

The girl watched in trepidation as the witch moved about her tidy kitchen, opening cupboards and muttering under her breath. Finally after some time, she set a cup of tea in front of the girl and bade her to drink it.
"Wait. First, you must tie this kerchief round your eyes. This is how the spell will work. Your girlfriends must lead you blindfolded until they find him. When you hear his voice, take off the kerchief- the man you are meant to love and marry forever; when he meets your eyes, he will fall in love with you and all will be well. Do not take it off until you hear his voice!" Not hearing the subtle warning disguised in her instruction, the girl eagerly tied on the kerchief and swallowed the tea in two gulps.

The witch took the payment, led her out to her friends and bade her farewell.
"I truly hope this goes as you wish, my dear."

Down the hill they set, giddy with excitement. They knew of the tavern the young man liked to visit on certain nights with his brothers to play cards; if they hurried, they could meet him outside before he went in for the evening. They gripped her arm, pulling her along, giggling and squealing in high spirits.

The young man was riding up the road with his brothers just as they came into town. They hurried her along, and when he drew up and dismounted, they pulled off her blindfold. One of them said good day to him; as he spoke, she opened her eyes, standing squarely before him... and...

"Oh, what has happened? I am blind! Oh, I am blind, I cannot see!"
"Miss, miss! Are you alright? Your eyes are open, has something happened?"
She began to breathe hard, panic taking over; she truly could not see, though her eyes were open wide.
"Are you looking in my eyes? Do they look different"
"Yes, miss! I am looking, nothing looks amiss! Brother, ride for the doctor, ride quick."

She began to cry, for this was not at all how she had imagined it to be. Not at all! She was blind, and he indifferent! Blind!

"Oh, what shall I do??? I am blind, blind!"

And so the girls led her home, and the doctor came, though he could not see anything. When Nerina's father found out what had happened he tried to rouse the town against the witch for causing blindness in the girl, but to no avail; the town loved and feared their witch. She, they were convinced, kept the crops healthy and the cows in milk; if some silly girl tried to dabble in this or that potion, she was meddling where she ought not.

She stayed in the house and would not go about the town any longer. For days and days she wept, both for the condition in which she found herself and for the man who utterly failed to fall in love with her. Her girlfriends kept her company day after day, doing up her hair and bringing over their knitting to keep her company. Several times they suggested returning to the hill to ask for a reversal but Nerina was much too distraught and distrustful for this.
"Jealous, she is, jealous! Because I am young and beautiful, and she an ugly old hag!"
Her friends merely sat and clucked over her, bringing her gossip from day to day and plotting how to get her back out into society once more.

And so the months wore on, winter came and went, and spring arrived with fresh air and the scent of plowed fields. The blindness did not abate in this time and her sullen mood prevailed.

One day, a man rode through town selling handcrafted swords and knives and such that he himself had forged. When he arrived at Nerina's home, the mistress of the house- her mother- welcomed him in; once a year he would come and his knives were of the finest quality. He would sharpen what knives they did have while he was there; and she was in the mood for a new pair of shears with which to cut the bolts of wool fabric the house produced each spring. This man had always admired Nerina, in her beauty and poise; but never cared much for the way she treated everyone around her. He was shocked, then, to see her in such a state- she was quiet, her eyes downcast, sitting with her hands folded and not adding much to the conversation the man had with her mother.

When her mother left the room to fetch the knives she needed sharpened, the man crossed the room and took her hands.
"Miss, what has happened to you, to render you into such a state? You were once so vibrant, and yet you seem so down and dreary."

Something in the timbre of his voice trickled into her subconscious, and she drew her head up, still not raising her eyes.
"I have become blinded because of my own foolishness."
"Ah. Magic, was it?"
His hands were warm on hers, and steady; she had felt so cold, so strange and lonely all the winter long. Suddenly she felt as if an arrow struck deep into her mind- she could *see* this man's character, really see it- the steadfastness, loyalty, the true heart and tender core.
"Yes. I asked for a love spell to make a hapless young man fall deeply in love with me, and it reversed itself on me because I was wrong. I tried to make another feel something he was not meant to feel."
"That never works, I know that; never. You can never change a person, you can never bring an idea into their heads as they weren't meant to have, that is the truth. The heart is what it is, and when it's right it is a stampede of galloping horses; when it is wrong, it will slip through your fingers like sand."

She raised her eyes, and if she had sight she would have met his. At that moment, however, something odd happened. A sound like a gong boomed in her mind, and the light that came then would have been blinding were she not already blind; she could *see* him, at the same moment he *saw* her; truly saw her, through the facade of spoiled child she once was, through the sadness she had nurtured all the months of winter. Slowly the light and pain abated in her head and she realized her vision was returning to her. This was the moment the thought went flitting through her head- "oh. That's what she meant. I have been such a fool."

His eyes were deep green, the skin about the edges crinkled just a bit from the sun; he was not fancy, not handsome in that creamy soft way that the noblemen were- but then, he was beautiful. Beautiful to her. She became sharply aware of his hands, his scent, his heat and nearness. He was shocked at what had just happened; both the strange sensation of wind sucking at his ears, and then realizing there was recognition in her eyes.
"What happened?"

"I don't know... I don't understand... I can see. I can see!"

And so you can imagine the rest, as it went from there.
If there is to be a moral, and once could be had here, it would be that love is blind... until it isn't.

When the Veil is Thin...

2009-11-16T00:14:00.000-05:00

Thu, November 1, 2007
I floated in that strange and liquid place between sleeping and wakefulness, that place where deep magic can happen. That place where the conscious mind is not willing to let go completely- staying on duty enough to keep the body from sliding all the way into sleep, but fluidly making room for the subconscious to slide on in. And so it does, wielding a silver sword to sweep away the cobwebs of perceived reality to introduce the truth, as slippery and unreal as it may seem. Many times I have ridden here in this plane, and have had spells whispered in my ears, only to wake with the sound of a bell, or even the clear sound of my name being called... from within the mind.... not from without. This is the place where my magic solidifies; this is the place one tries to achieve in meditation, or with drugs. It is a place that is always available, should you know how to go there.

I floated there, on the night when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest, when the mind is most capable of connecting to other planes and piercing through to the truth. The thoughts came and went, ebbed and flowed, as I searched deeper and deeper into the rich loam of the lower parts of my mind- the place that feels the way that the earth smells when it is buried under decaying autumn leaves. Whispers in the mind, spells and visions floating past, but this is not what I came here for. I rooted deeper, pushing aside curled fronds of imagination until I brushed up against the disquiet, the rummaging in the underbrush that would not be still. Crouching there, I waited to see what would emerge. Still there were whispers caressing my ears, brushing my third eye; I sat still, waiting, that loam smell in my nose- in my mind.
what is it?
what?
Ahhh... yes. Fear, it crouches there, tucked under the rotting leaves, waiting for the right times to sneak out and insinuate itself into the daily routine. I sat in the dirt and spoke softly to it, as if it were a frightened bird, uncomprehending except for the tone of my voice (spirt-heart) as to what my intentions are. Grown fat, it has, in the past years; given many reasons to glut itself as it hides, waiting. Touch this; rough- dirt- dark- trembling... it knows me and I it, but where do we part, where do we end? Then as I crouch I realize the error in this- and this is the magic; there is no separation. Fear is part of who we are, sitting with love and courage and hate and all the finer emotions that run the gamut over the years of our lives. Fear is not unlike the snake- as, or more, afraid of you as you are of it. To be handled with care, but handled frequently so as to not let it get too feral.

Sharp scent (sound? feeling?), and my head comes up. I merge into wakefulness and then the subconscious wins again, and I slide back down into the inbetween. What if you are worth infinitely more than you believe, and yet are never allowed to know this? That is what we all face. The dirt on my knees, then, keeps me humble. Would we rupture if we knew? That must be it; it would be impossible to dive fully into the dirty, earthy, scrumptious human experience if we knew we were all angels. If we knew we were all embodiment of light, and yet captured into the flesh in order to experience all the range of emotion, touch, smell and sound... and more than just that. I function in daily life, doing what needs to be done while my mind soars through the sky, runs through the forest and flows in the streams. And yet here, in this plane in which I sat, I am the spirit that lingers in the trees when I have gone home. The longing then, to return to this, becomes strong and I understand what it means to fully live and fully heal. The relaxation then is suddenly deep as the cool hands of my own light (being?) touch my (skin? soul?) and I understand I have crossed over, finally, into acceptance of the change of the season and the change of the pace I have been keeping.

When I do return, do wake, my senses are sharp. The forest mind lingers, because I have seen what lies beneath the leaves in my own lush and deep being. I can never fully know what I experienced in that plane... it is difficult even now to capture what took place in that hour and a half; yet, I feel more deeply seated, as I did years ago when I practiced magic almost daily. There now lies a patience in my heart that was not there for many many months- the franticness that took hold in the late spring with my loss has lessened its grip on me. I have gone deep and caressed the wounds there, though briefly; spoke the magic over the rifts and asked it to be still. I may now do what needs to be done, and gladly.

patterns in nature

2009-11-16T00:13:00.000-05:00

Tue, October 30, 2007
I ran today in the crisp late afternoon and noticed how much the season is waning towards winter. The oak leaves have finally reached that wonderful color of oxblood leather, and everything is drying up to blend in dull golds and earth browns.

I have always noticed how much things in nature resemble one another but it is much more striking to me now that I am working closely with some amazing wild species. Is that a dried milkweed, or the feathers of an owl? Is that a leaf, or a chipmunk? A log- or a crouching bird? A vulture, or hawk, no... a bole in the fork of a tree...

With things becoming laid bare and visible with dropping of leaves, it is easy to become fooled by what you see. I ran at the hour just before dusk, when the sun was low and a liquid red. I reached the top of a rise in the woods where the sun hit an old stone wall and bathed it in light the color of cherry juice; I ran to the wall and stood on it, facing the sun to let my skin soak in the rose glow. I wanted to radiate that color, always. The forest I had just run through was unrecognizable, momentarily, swallowed up in this amazing light. Full of creatures imagined and real, all in stirring leaves and crooked branches, tumbled stones and twisted paths through the underbrush.

As I ran my periphery spoke of things running with me, running beside me... a wolf in a copse, a faerie hidden beside a leaf. Gnomes crouch by stumps, shy as I flash past. Sometimes at that hour I lose the path, and soar over the most amazing carpet of pine needles, certain in my sense of direction where the path may appear next; leaping over logs with imagined wolves at my heels.

The other day I was out a little later than I intended, and the light began to fail before I made it back out into the cemetery or the field, two of my favorite exits. Such little light, playing tricks on me under the dim canopy of pines who do not surrender to the season. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement... leaf in the breeze? Wolf in the hedge? Who is to say? A little surge of fear, a tiny thrill of escape gave my feet wings and I flew through the copse to reach the field. There are no wolves here...
...or are there?

There is magic in the old woods of Massachusetts, surely as there is in my heart. This is why I run. It is for me like hiking, but faster; my brains have no time to keep up, there is only me, the crisp air and my feet. All my heart concentrates on what rock I must bounce to next, and not linger on what ails me. It is freedom, it is love, it is delight and desire all wrapped up in one. I am free, I am light, I am perfectly fluid, flying through the field of milkweed and queen of the meadow, with my hair flowing back from my face...ahhh.

Goodbye Corvidae

2009-11-16T00:11:00.000-05:00

Fri, October 26, 2007
Today was Death Day. Most unfortunately. Things that had been hanging on all week... we made some hard decisions to let them go.

I found that the hardest one, by far, was my patient the Crow.

Someone found this crow by the side of the road, unable to fly. He was big, glossy and gorgeous- in great health. Except for the exit wound on his wrist (in his wing). Some goddamn bastard shot him with a BB gun. We took radiographs, and saw BB shot in his wing- one whole BB, one shattered, where his radius and ulna were shattered- and one embedded just below his skull, in the muscle. (He could have lived with that one).

I never knew how incredibly beautiful they are up close and alive. Dead, they have black feathers. Alive, they shimmer with purple and navy blue. The most amazing deep beautiful sheen I have ever seen. I just loved this guy. He was sassy, trying to bite and get away.

So the problem was not the wound, nor the shattered bones. Those we can fix, and do so all the time. The problem is that adult crows go absolutely crazy in captivity, and abhor bandages. They will gnaw off a leg to get a bandage off. They will chew off a wing because of a skeletal fixator device. We put a simple bandage on his wing, with vetwrap and tape, overnight to see how he'd tolerate it.
Poor thing... he tore apart his cage, ripped up the newspaper in it and the branches and perches we gave him. He was bored out of his mind and tore that bandage off like nobody's business.

After discussing him at length in rounds this morning, we had to put him down. Now, I never ever flinch when I put down that bird that's been half chewed by a cat. Never feel terrible for the hit by car squirrel that's hanging on by a thread. But! This beautiful bird was not sick, not dying... just murdered by some asshole, to die slowly. Good job, shooting innocent animals you have no intention on eating.

I euthanized him myself. We put them under anesthesia so they don't struggle or fear what is happening. My heart was in my throat the whole time, tight with sadness. All of us were sad for it. There were several other deaths today in the same manner; a hawk with eyes so damaged she'd never hunt properly again; a gull with a wing fracture so bad he'd never get off the ground again. My other hawk stands close to the same fate. Sometimes some animals can be placed in captivity somewhere, but we always weigh if this is the right decision because sometimes it isn't. Some of them would rather be dead than have to face the fear and shock of handling every single day. We did place a 17 year old hawk (!!!) in a captive program, used to educate people on raptors. (She had a leg band that told us when she'd last been captured!) That hawk, though, was missing part of a wing due to amputation and was well accustomed to people by this point. She has the temperament for it.

My crow... did not. I'm sad. I love crows, I think they're incredible and beautiful. We don't get many of them in; crows have a mystical property of never ever showing up sick or dead. Only in rare cases. They are good at hiding illness and seem to die where no one can find them.

Anyway... we were Dr.Death today, not a fun feeling. That's the nature of the business sometimes.

A note on shooting innocent wildlife: please remember that when you shoot an innocent animal and don't make sure you finished the job, it is going to suffer in fear and agony for days, maybe even weeks. Animals are great at hiding hurts, and surviving despite injuries. We see a lot of animals with BB shot in their xrays. It makes me so fucking mad. I have nothing against killing an animal in fair sport if you plan on eating it and using the parts, respectfully. This makes sense, to feed a family; we are omnivores. I think people ought to be that close to their food anyway. But to kill without meaning to eat, that is a sin worse than any other I can imagine. It is wasteful and causes an incredible amount of suffering. That crow was lucky someone found him so I could finish the job (unless a hawk or something got him first); if no one had found him, he'd have gotten skinnier and skinnier until he was unable to fend for himself, and an agonizing starvation death awaits after that. It is disgusting and cruel. If you think it's funny to shoot innocent things, go shoot your neighbor in the ass or yourself in the foot. The repercussions would be more real and more interesting anyway.

ahh, the magic still is...

2009-11-16T00:09:00.001-05:00

Sat, Oct 13, 2007
I was running through the woods this morning, early, when the quality of light was still sharp and focused, lower on the horizon. There were patches of grass still touched with frost in the shadows; where the sun had glided in, the leaves were wet, warming up in the morning light. I tried to run lightly, bounding on the balls of my feet, dodging stones and roots.

Running away from my head, running away from the awesome weight of what is coming. What is passing. The amount of (bad? good?) luck I have had this year.

Recently I received an email from the place I fell in love with in VA, telling me they are not hiring this spring as they had thought. "You were the top of our list...but we can't this year, so sorry." I was crestfallen. Not because of the beauty of the place, but because I genuinely felt I would fit in and learn so much, in the kind of environment that would nurture me. I am sad.

I also had a relationship I thought was thriving fall before my eyes. As the leaves turned beyond my 32nd birthday, I was starting to feel that the magic that keeps my spirit so positive was flitting away. What more must I endure? I have needed, wanted, some good news for months... I mean how much can one person take, really?

Then I made the mistake of looking at my class rank, and discovered that while I might be in the cream of the crop, I am at the bottom of this particular cup of cream. That took some wind out of my sails. Now, I know that my grades aren't fantastic. That's always been ok with me; I wanted to maintain some sanity (aka social life) and chose to do so. So why should I be surprised? Still it comes as a blow, and I have been judging myself harshly as a result. It will never matter beyond applying for an internship- if I even do one. It really won't. Bedside manner will, and charisma... I may not have grades, but charisma I have, in plenty.

So I ran. I ran, my hands furiously cold, my nose running with the puff of breath hanging in the air. My eyes were watering from the chill. I bounced along the forest path relaxing with the sights of sun playing on orange, red and evergreen... then, I stepped through a break in an old stone wall along what turned out to be a faded and dead ended path.

I stopped when I reached a patch of brambles that prevented further travel. My mind still resembled something like an angry hive of bees, but I was not put off by this. Trailblazing is part of my nature. When I turned around, though, my entire body, mind and soul went very still. I was looking back at the stone wall, through a maze of small saplings gilded with fine spider webs and drops of melted frost. The entire woods were soaked in sunlight, shimmering off the webs and water, dazzling to look at. I held onto the sapling next to me, relaxed my entire body and let my eyes unfocus. Motes floated through the air, and there was even a moth and a dragonfly that flitted through. I felt such sublime joy to look at this, and thought- this is why I come here. This is what life is. It is for living beauty, for experiencing joy. It is not about competing, or drama, or bullshit. Life is for loving, living... and enjoying.

Why do I have such intense 'bad' luck? Because everything about me is so intense right now. I have forgotten my magic, the glamour that makes me who I am. So caught up in fear of not being good enough, I have forgotten that I am far more than good enough- I am fabulous, amazing, wild, magic and an expression of beauty. How could I forget? How could I be so cruel to my Self? How in the world could such treasure be so forgotten? So rarely do I go outside these days, it is easy to forget; to get caught up in the gossip and bullshit of the place I am forced to work in. I am not doing what I want right now, forced into an unnatural schedule that I despise, working with people I don't particularly enjoy. I am forced into a competitive atmosphere which has never worked for me. And all this has caused what is magic about me to take a back seat.

How on earth do I keep my magic alive? Truth be told, this is what would keep me 'competitive' even if grades don't. When I am feeling good, when I remember who I am (witch, fool, wise woman... ) I am unstoppable, because I simply believe that whatever happens is meant to be. I have such a hard time remembering this! I must, though... given what I have discovered, about grades and whatnot, I must remember my magic so that I can go where I NEED and WANT to go, no matter what I may look like on paper. I must manifest healing, manifest magic, manifest joy and wonder back into the fiber of my being. I'm tired of not being myself, of being what is called for. I love who I am when I am whole. I do not love this sad fragment, wandering pale as a ghost through the motions... it is a poor contrast.

It may be time to find some way to energetically call some positive magic and light into my life. Manifest! I know I can, I have done it before. It is time.

I have a new home!

2009-11-16T00:07:00.000-05:00

Fri, July 6, 2007
Yes... I'm back in MA, and just this morning have signed a lease on a new place. Yay!!! I have a small two room apartment in the same neighborhood as my old place, 100 yards from the Post Office Pub- right next door to some good friends. It's cute! I have a deck, even!

Say you'll come for tea!

If there are things you have been holding for me all summer (and I thank you), I can take them now to get my new place up and running. I'm very excited!

Yes- I am home early from my adventures. I was supposed to be traveling until Starwood, but I was too burnt out and exhausted to continue on this mad schedule. I've been traveling non stop since the fire.

This is what happened: I was on my way to my next- and last- externship in NJ. I was dreading it. I had heard some pretty bad feedback about the place; that although the medicine is excellent, they work the externs like slaves (four hours of sleep a night average); you sleep in a room with two bunk beds and two cots shared with 5 other students, sharing a corner with a tiny dorm fridge and microwave as your 'kitchen'. You walk downstairs and through the barn to use the bathroom or shower.

Now- had my externship block been spaced out, or had I come from a comfy home, or not so much travel, I might have been game. But I was already burnt and exhausted and used up. I was dreading it, but I was going.

But.

The Tappan Zee Bridge was CLOSED!!!!
Yes, ladies and gents, there was a CAR ON FIRE on the bridge so they closed all 8 lanes of N and S. WOW.

All I saw was an electric sign that said "Tappan Zee Bridge closed, find alternate route."
Alternate route????? I barely know where I am in the world, the world's most confusing spaghetti dump of a highway system... oh my goddess. I called every person I knew that is from NY or NJ and needed help badly. When I finally got someone on the phone, I lost my marbles and started to cry. I'd just had enough. It was after some heartfelt conversation and talk of my well being that I decided to just turn around and retreat. I made this schedule, I can make it into something else.

So it took two and a half hours to go one mile to turn around in Tarrytown. They weren't letting a single soul through that bridge. It was a mess and it was lucky there wasn't some sort of riot. Unreal! Totally unreal. I'm glad I canceled though.

It was a full moon. I knew that what I needed more than anything to ease my heart was a home. After all I had nothing. Yes, I have friends' homes that I can come to and feel safe, but it isn't the same. My mom wasn't even at our old house, so I didn't have that either. I needed to get a place to regain some semblance of routine and sanity. The full moon... I did some super concentrated I need this badly manifestation and returned to Grafton two days later... and found an apartment that night.

Yay!

I like this place a lot. It's on the third floor, so I will be living up high with the squirrels. I have a deck, and a good amount of storage space. It is enough for me.

I hope you will visit, join me for tea sometime... I am so happy to be home, to have a home, and to find some peace.

Oh, adventure! I wanna be bait!

2009-11-16T00:05:00.003-05:00

**This was written pertaining to my trip to Samana, Dominican Republic... with Jay Merriam and Co. **

Sun, June 3, 2007
Yippeee!!! I love flying, I love sitting by the window and taking lots of pictures of the clouds. No vomit for me! Yeah!

so. Everything is packed, my toenails are green, my straw hat is ready. I can't wait!

The head of the trip says, we meet in the airport and go through customs together. This way, we bamboozle them with a crowd (safety in numbers) to avoid getting stopped and searched and awkward questions:
Why are there 90 pairs of surgical gloves in your underwear?
Why are there two Target bags of syringes (5 and 20 mL?)
(um, soy diabetica???)
yeah.

He said, rather casually, dress like a tourist and pack the things among your undies. That way no one will notice.

yeah- ok... I have a rather large suitcase and the medical supplies take up most of it. Good thing we are going tropical because the teeny tiny tank tops barely fit over the supplies- at least I didn't plan on wearing much!

Then he said, sort of as an afterthought, well- if they seem of a mood, we'll throw one of you as bait.

Oh! Oh!!! PIck me, oh, pick me!!! I wanna be bait! It's my specialty!
See, I am fluent in Spanish.
Blonde.
Cute.
Sassy.
And have done this sort of distraction, oh, how many times? (I think of all the poor rookie cops that have had the misfortune of pulling me over).

I even have my outfit planned, should I be the one they plan to throw at customs. Long white skirt, sparkly shoes (one of the pairs that we managed to save from the fire...), tight turquoise sparkly tank (thank you Ivy!), straw hat, sunglasses... oh yes... La Tourista... they won't stand a chance.

Why?

Because... I've got The Dimple. Ask me sometime, I'll show you. It's devastating. They can't resist.

And so I'm going on an airplane (leaving at 4 am, how disgusting) and beginning Adventure Part III, yay!

see you all on the flip side.

gypsy

2009-11-16T00:05:00.001-05:00

Fri, May 18, 2007
This weekend I am leaving to go on all my externships until Starwood. I will be traveling up and down the east coast visiting equine hospitals, learning as much as I can, looking for the next step. All this will culminate at Starwood, where I hope to arrive on Saturday if possible. I will be available by email, perhaps, and by phone...

It has been a surreal experience, embracing a gypsy life both out of need and desire. I made these plans back in February, in the comfort of my home. The timing is incredibly ironic, that this journey was to begin just as my home was destroyed. On an afternoon last week I packed my car to move to the second place I would be sleeping since I became homeless... it was bizarre. It was quiet and sunny and my heart was both heavy and light as I packed what belongings I have acquired into my car. Everything fit in the car perfectly, neatly. At times I would laugh for the simplicity of the life I am embarking on, bereft of choice; and at other times I would cry with the weight of this, that there is no home to return to in August when Starwood is over.

I am choosing a healthy outlook, as best I can- that this is an opportunity, a divine chance for experience. Letting go of all that was. I am looking at it from the viewpoint of- well, I have been scrubbed raw, and now I can rebuild. Rebuild however I choose, taking in only those things I absolutely need or want, letting go of all my life I accumulated over the years. All my childhood memoribilia, gone... all of it gone. I have made the choice to allow my life to be simpler, without the burden of so many 'things'. This can be freeing but there is a raw and deep sense of pain because it was taken from me- poof!- in one go, no choice, done. That is incredibly humbling and I cannot explain how I can feel so free and so lost all at once.

It is a bizarre way to embark on one of the greatest adventures I've planned for myself in a long time. I'm a little disjointed and out of sorts, a bit emotionally unbalanced and sad. I'm working hard to get myself to a gentle plane, a balanced state of acceptance. I hate being down and work so hard to bouy up. Where I am going no one knows of this tragedy. No one knew my kitties or any of what has passed. This, too is liberating.

And still... the experience of fitting all you (recently) own into a tiny matchbox car, this is strange. I know folks who have done this intentionally and with great relish, a sense of freedom and adventure. I am trying to get there. I am nearly there. No, I am there most of the time. The choice was taken from me though, and this does dampen it somewhat. Nothing I have is familiar, except the pentacle that survived on the dresser that has not left my neck since it was restored. None of the clothing feel like they are mine. It's just downright weird.

When I return in August I will be looking for a haven, some solace, a home. I have furnishings waiting for me stored elsewhere. Again, strange. None of it will be mine yet. It will take some time. I will need help in August. So many people stepped up to help immediately and for this I am grateful to the depths of my heart; but the work has not even yet begun because there is no home to restore me to yet. That work will be in August and it is then I will need love and care. My heart is broken for my loss, but I am still in shock because I have been moving towards this grand adventure; it is in August it will hit me when I return not to a home, but to a week of craziness looking for a home to live in.

Bear with me. This is going to take a while to heal. I am not the only one in the world who has been burned out of her haven, but I only know my own experience and I can tell you that while the good times outweigh the bad, the bad are heavy and damp.

See you all at starwood.

For Shammy- my Heart

2009-11-16T00:04:00.000-05:00

Thu, May 10, 2007
This is for the loss of my goofy, silly trickster kitty- my beautiful flame colored boy.

I met him the spring before I started vet school. I was working in a vet tech job at a hospital in Randolph, when I lived in JP. He came in early one morning in a box, his face bloody and shocky. He couldn't walk. His owner gave me the box and the team in the back rushed to stabilize him. I stayed in the front on reception and talked to the owner, telling him how much the emergency stabilization would cost, and the other things that could happen.
"What??? It's just a fuckin' cat! Give me the cat, I'll toss him in the woods, he can fend for himself!"
So. yeah. We had him surrender the cat to us, and so the hospital came to own him.

He was skinny, straggly, one year old and not neutered. We cleaned him up and it became obvious pretty quickly that the leg wasn't going to come back. So, poor ducky, he lost his leg and his balls in one go.
His jaw was wired, and it hurt him to eat. He didn't want to eat at all, until I went back and started petting him. Then he'd give it a go, growling all the while from the pain. We became pretty good friends this way, and I started his physical rehab a little while later. It became obvious (and the other techs giggled behind their hands- 'we've got our sucker!') that I wanted to take him home. So home, in the Tuck Towers, we went. He grew to love Calypsa, and food. He gained two pounds in one month- much to my shame.
One night his jaw wire got stuck in the blanket, and I was woken by a big screaming orange cat stuck by his face. It was terrible!!! The very next morning we went in to get his wire out and the vet made fun of me because he'd gained two pounds. (He was too skinny before, in my defense, but I grew to learn that he was just a giant piggy!)

We got along grandly. He loved to sleep on the bed with me, which has been a great comfort all these years. We've moved a bunch of times since then, lived with other cats, other people- but he's always been a little love, my sweet marmalade boy.

Every morning I would tell him:
"Orange ya glad to be a kitty??"

He was easy to love. He had a great love of life, people, food and mischief. He loved to snuggle and in fact, one of my favorite things was that he was my constant study buddy- snuggled up in my lap as I sat at my desk. I'd only have to sit and he'd be there within a moment. He is a large factor of what got me through vet school so far, he kept me calm, kept me focused.
I loved his bravery and the fact that nothing really bothered him. He didn't care if I was screaming crying, he'd lie on the bed next to me with his one front leg on my belly telling me it was ok. He didn't care if I was getting my brains shagged out, he'd still lie there, snuggled against my leg and ride it out. (are you done yet? I'm trying to nap here.)

He was my naughty boy, my fool, my friend. He was a counter cruiser, always hunting for a dropped morsel of food, acting like we starved him. He would beg for two hours before dinner. He even has been known to use Jedi mind tricks to get people to walk away from meals so he could jump up and help himself. You'd never know he only had three legs, the way he got around and the trouble he'd get into.

He loved me deeply, and I him. I never slept as well as I did next to him. He would sleep curled at my shoulder, so on cold nights I would turn my back to him and he would hold the covers down. He would groom my fingers, and come to me with such mellow love on his face when he was ready to lie down and snuggle with me.

I snuggled with him before I left that night, the night he passed on. I was lying on the bed reading and he came to hang out. He loved it when I rubbed his head with my chin, and I was doing just that. I'm so glad I got one last beautiful time with him. This is going to hurt for a long long time, I loved him so much. I feel lost without his goofy sillyness and his humor. His love and caring. My Captain Shammy, my Shamrock, my pumpkin head. He was too damn young!! I wanted to care for him when he was old. I wanted to be able to make jokes about getting him a wheelchair. I hate that he is gone, hate it.

Someone said to me, a few years ago, that certain animals in our lives are our protection, and that when they move on they can do more to help us on the spirit plane than they can here in the physical. I am trying to find comfort in this now, imagining his coyote silliness and sweet gentle love sitting on my shoulder; that he's got my back... it doesn't help me right now, when I am crying and missing him, but I know he's there in my heart and will stay there forever.

Farewell sweet Pippin

2009-11-16T00:02:00.001-05:00

** I am really pissed at Tribe that I have no access to any of the pics I posted. I have no remaining photos of my kitties from this time period, and the one accompanying this blog entry on Tribe is my favorite. Damn. **

Wed, May 9, 2007
I met Pip when he was 5 months old. A friend got him from the shelter she worked in; she chose him because he turned into a pile of mush when you got your hands on him. What she didn't realize is that until you got your hand on him, he'd be terrified of you... absolutely terrified of being approached, picked up or handled. She got him home, put him down and no one really saw much of him after that. He would eat at night and slink around corners, avoiding everyone as best he could.

I moved in the house for a few years. It killed me that this cat was so afraid, so I began to seek him out and pay attention to the fact that he existed. I played this little head game with him- talk to him, then walk away and ignore him. It began to work after some time. In the morning, I'd be the first to awaken and the first into the bathroom. He began to follow me to the bathroom, standing in the doorway watching me pee- I would leave the door open a bit so we could have our morning visit. It was so sweet. Day by day he'd get closer and closer to me, eyes wide, gulping with fear. I would talk to him and tease him- "I can't eat you yet, silly, you're too skinny" or "I'm going vegetarian, your problems are solved".

After a few months he began to want to be near me, following me around the house. I'd find him in my room when I came home- he'd run out in a panic, but he'd be there nonetheless. I began to meditate on him and sent him messages of friendship and hope, and tried my best to be small around him and inviting... then one day, he came up to me in the room and let me touch him. I cried some tears of joy that day, it was a beautiful victory.

Eventually I moved away. I went to Boston, and then got accepted into vet school. Shammy came into my life at that time.

I went back to the house the summer before vet school. It was a rockin' party, and I was experimenting with... a substance... for the first time. I lay in the living room covered in a blanket checking in with myself as I like to do when trying something new. He came into the room and stared at me. I felt, clear as a bell, a message in his gaze-
"take me with you, please, I'm lonely, I need you."

The next day I laughed at myself, but I took it seriously. For what if the message was real? And not long after, before I had the chance to ask my friend for him, she offered him to me. "He's a weirdo, I can't stand having a cat in the house who isn't even a pet... you guys have some strange bond... he needs you."

So this is how Pippin came to live with me.
The first couple of months were rough for him. I did not free feed him. I put him in my office, and he hid from me. I sat with the food twice a day, leaving it down for only 10 minutes. He was on a hunger strike for a little while and then finally gave in. He began to see that food and love were what was being delivered and in no time at all, would come out relatively quickly to get some food and some loving. In fact, he loved being petted more than the food; if I petted him he would forget the food and flop on the floor, languishing in the massage. He truly was a little slut this way. It was a beautiful thing.

In no time at all we let him out and he became part of the household. He got to know my housemates and let them touch him. He slept in my room while I was at class, and came in to wake me for breakfast in the morning. Over the years I moved him a few times and he would freak out, but began to adjust more and more quickly. I was so proud! Every now and then he would have a set back and it would send me into tears, feeling like all this trust had been undone. It would always get better, though, and even better than before.

This year he was even more amazing. He began to stay wherever he was when strangers would come. I would caution people to approach him slowly and with care, and he began to let strangers touch him and love him. It moved my heart to great heights to see this. My beloved sweet Pippin, trying so hard to stay calm and learn that people are good things. He began to speak to me as well, learning to meow and chit at me, and I would talk back. He had the most hilarious squeak and pip. He would talk to me when it was time for supper, and it always made me laugh.

In the last two months before the tragedy, I began to pick him up and stroke him in my arms. I would stand before the mirror so I could watch his eyes and they were relaxed, little slits, not the dinner plates he wore for years. He let me kiss his head and love him. Before he could panic I would set him gently down, pet him one last stroke, and walk away not looking at him to remove any residual fear in him. It was working, he was letting me hold him for a long time in my arms and love him.

He was incredibly special to me. Anytime I was on the floor in my room, stretching or putting on shoes, sitting crosslegged before the mirror getting makeup on to go out, he would come and wind his tail about my body in a kitty-hug. He had the most amazing banner tail. Soft as clouds, winding about my leg or waist or face. The only thing he wanted in life was my love and affection. He would let me groom or pet him threadbare if I wanted. For hours and hours.

I am going to miss him terribly. All these years of slow and patient work, this is a cat who learned how to love. He did his very best, and I know it. He worked hard with me to unfold and blossom and I am eternally grateful that he knew love before he left this plane. He will be in my heart forever, my sweet fuzzy butt. Rest in peace, dearest of friends.

"If you want to help"

2009-11-16T00:01:00.000-05:00

Sun, April 29, 2007
I am so amazed. So incredibly grateful to have this amazing community that you all are. Alyssum and I are staying at a friend's parent's house in Shrewsbury and we are welcome to live there until we both leave in May. (Alyssum is going to Kenya for research, and I am leaving to visit equine hospitals up and down the east coast for 8 weeks starting Mid May, ending at Starwood).

We are really appreciative of the support. I have gotten a lot of calls and messages with love from all of you, and I am in tears overwhelmed with the love of you all.

I know you all want to help us materially for our physical comfort. We are willing to accept aid (as hard as that can be sometimes.) The school and our friends are working on a way to let people help us out. I'll post a blog about where and how you can help as soon as that is sorted out; we are going to create a Wish List of the essentials we need.

We are both going to be intentionally homeless until August, as we are both leaving the area for school related things; after that time we will likely need help setting up our home again. We'll keep you all in the know as we get more information on what's happening next.

The school is being incredibly helpful in this time as well, organizing return of textbooks to us, helping us get computers and things like that. They want to make sure we can continue with things, after some time off to recover from the loss.

Again- we are both feeling incredibly warm and well loved right now. You are all amazing people, and I am blessed to have such an amazing community. Love to you all...

Jessamyn

Fire. I have lost everything. Everything.

2009-11-15T23:59:00.000-05:00

Fri, April 27, 2007
Tonight I got the worst call anyone could get. My neighbor was standing outside watching my house burn. It was too smokey and hot to get inside.

My beloved cats are dead. Cap'n Shammy and Pippin. I prayed while I drove home from JP that this was a false alarm, a crude joke, that my cats would be fine. If it is a fire, I prayed, just spare my cats. Please spare my little loves.

Alyssum also had two cats. Only three bodies were found, and I am going tomorrow to figure out if one of them survived. They wouldn't let us near the house. I collapsed in hysterics. My room was gutted. Every single thing I own, from undies to CDs, computer, furniture, everything- I don't even have a bra to my name- gone. All of it gone. My brand new equine textbooks. All my syllabi.

I am alive. Alyssum is alive. My downstairs neighbors and their kid, all alive. Thank the Goddess for this. I do. Nothing will soothe this horrible ache that is left, my sweet purring friends are gone and I am devastated. I have nothing. I have friends, and love, and that will have to be enough.

Send me some white light, friends, I'm going to need it. Send some to Alyssum too. We are staying with friends so we are being looked after (they were waiting for us at the scene, love is truly what has gotten me through this). I am devastated. Completely devastated.
Jessamyn

Fire and Snow

2009-11-15T23:58:00.000-05:00

Thu, February 22, 2007
I have too much to think about tonight. My heart. My studies. Too much.

It's snowing, gently, and not too cold. There is something incredibly magical about snowfall- the hush that comes, the special sound you only get when it's snowing in the dark. I needed to be out in it, playing. Not enough to ski in... but it's warm out, and I have been too long away from fire.

I walked out into the middle of the pond. It was so quiet there, the silence so deep. The surface had enough snow on it that I was not in danger of slipping. I lit and danced. Danced and danced... let the fire take my heart to the level I only reach when I have that incredible combination of movement and flame. The fire lit the snow flakes falling gently around me. My hat came off, and I could feel the flakes in my hair, on my face... I danced between flakes and felt no cold.

The silence there, that is what I needed. It is so hard to remain who I am and not crumple under the pressure of what I am doing. It is so hard to remain graceful and flexible, with all the people that I love, and remember to look at what I need to. The snow and the fire- that is what I needed tonight. I walked away from my desk, my computer and papers, all my knowledge to just be Jess. Just Jess.

I fill my life with beauty, in almost every moment. This is how I deal with hurt, sorrow, joy, pain, and even anger. If I can do it beautifully and efficiently I will. Tonight I dance, I dance out my heart's voice. I did it for me, only me; I did not invite anyone to watch or even safety me. Perhaps a little foolhardy- dancing with fire in the center of the frozen pond on a night above freezing. Ha! If I didn't live slightly on the edge I wouldn't be me. I love life. I love my life. I also accept the pain that it brings me, all of it. I take full responsibility for the pain that comes with what I have chosen. The giant burden that is school, and how little time it leaves me; how little of myself I get to express these days.

[As an aside... I am not fishing for consolation here, I just needed to write- there was too much grace in this night not to put it down. I'm fine, just overwhelmed; I don't get too much time to deal with emotions in school, and so I get beauty and love and grace where I can...]

Holy Exploding Washing Machine, Batman!

2009-11-15T23:56:00.001-05:00

Mon, February 19, 2007
I got home from the gym, tired but happy; it was still early in anyone else's book. I was standing at the stove, absently making oatmeal. The kettle was close to a boil. I'm no good until I have had breakfast (doesn't matter that I just sweat my ass off at the gym... don't need to be awake from that.)

Roomie had to go into the wildlife clinic at the ass crack of dawn to work; clever her, though, she got a leg up on chores and threw a load in the washer before she left.

So anyway, I'm stirring oatmeal when the washer goes from SUCK TO BLOW.

HOLY SHNICKLES!!!

It went into the rinse phase and suddenly there was a tsunami running in two directions... into the kitchen and into the bathroom.

eeeeeeeekkk!!!

I dropped my spoon, cats exploding in all directions. I jumped on the washer and did my best Little Dutch Boy imitation- I reached for the offending pipe and tried to make something (anything!) happen... it stopped for 2 seconds, enough to take a breath, then exploded around my hand. Water to the ceiling. Wheee!!! So finally the brains kicked in and I shut off the water switch; realized that wasn't the problem... so I got a clue (finally) and turned off the washer.

I grabbed every towel I could reach- off the stove handle, off the rack in the bathroom and threw down.

Water.
Was.
Everywhere.

Oh- and cat hair, and Jess hair, and Alyssum hair- cuz, well, I haven't swept in a couple of weeks, OK?

Then I called the landlord and made it HIS problem. He was out in the garage...
"Hey, Jay!! Help! The washer exploded! I'm drowning!"

He was there in no time with a giant pile of towels from the shop and helped me mop up...

So it turns out that the fact that it went down to zero last night froze the pipe and blocked it up, so the water had no where to go except all over my kitchen. Joy! Well- it's rigged until spring to unload
ALL OVER THE LAWN.

Ahem.

Well, at least it won't be where I get my socks soggy. Nothing like an explosion before breakfast to get ya all pumped up!

Out of the Snot

2009-11-15T23:54:00.002-05:00

Tue, February 13, 2007
This morning was the first morning in a week that I did not emerge climbing through a snot-hazed fog to feign awakeness...
No indeed!

My 'morning person' brain was back to its old golden retriever self this morning:
"Oh, I'm awake, look! The sun! Oh, oh! Oooooo, I'm hungry. Oh what do I want to eat? Oh! I have to add this fact to my CV! Oh, maybe I can go to the gym! Oh boy! Hey! I don't need a tissue!"

The cat, of course, opened one eye and gave me the finger with just a look as only cats can do.
Fahk off, I was sleepin here.

Anyway I'm not completely clear but waaaaay better.

See, yesterday I spent the day high by accident. Oh, I should know better...
The night before I was sick (literally and figuratively) of being unable to sleep because my head still had an elephant attached to it. So I was rummaging around in my vitamins and found- dun, dun duhhhhh... cyclobenazapine! Ooooo, a muscle relaxant, I seem to remember this knocked my ass out last time.

Oh, but what did the wee foggy brained faerie forget??
Yes, that it knocked my ass out for 24 hours. Just like nyquil.

But conveniently enough I did not remember, as the elephant was pumping snot into my head and I couldn't string together a coherent sentence (not even lying.) I had to do SOMETHING; I had a test on Monday and needed some sleep.

Well- I took one eentsy weentsy little pill, and yay! passed out cold.
Problem is... the next morning, palm trees had sprouted from my ears and there were cute Hawaiian girls dancing on my eyebrows... oh, the music... to die for...
Yeah, so that was the mellowest exam experience ever. Thankfully it was only Econ, something I didn't bother studying for cuz there's no point (a monkey could do it...) But needless to say, every time I tried to have a conversation, people would look perplexed after a time and wander off. I was very confused all day.

One friend said she could see what I'd be like as an old lady, with a glass of peppermint schnapps and my little pill box, telling bizarre stories that don't make sense. Quaint. I like it. Only if I can have kitchen curtains with ducks on them.

Oh, it's apparent I'm not out of the weeds yet, eh? But I'm getting there. Loopiness is a sign of a happy mind.

Dream of birth

2009-11-15T23:54:00.001-05:00

Fri, January 19, 2007
I just woke up a bit ago, and the dream is fresh on my mind, and strange; so I am going to put it here, and concentrate once more on today's exam...

I was pregnant. I was close to the time of birth, and startled by it; looking down at the belly, which in my estimation was quite small. I thought to myself, I only wished I was pregnant a month ago and here I am- swollen, and ready? My hands- I kept looking at my hands, on the belly and in the air- my large capable hands with long long fingers, and wondering at them.
The child within was quiet. This also confused me. Aren't they supposed to be more active? I thought; and when I thought this I got a response from within, a kick or movement. (I have to say, that felt strange! I've never been *actually* pregnant like that, so it seems like a collective unconscious memory). I felt relieved to know the child lived.
There were other people around, aware of the pending birth as well. Everyone went about their business. I was in some sort of a house, farm house like.
I kept stimulating the child within, and wondering when it would be time but content to let it be. Someone was then standing with me and I mused, the belly is so small; the child barely takes up any room in there- but I can feel it within the pelvic bowl... we talked about keeping the child stimulated in order to let it know it was close to the time.
I was then talking to a lover, the one who fathered (apparently) the child. He had a look of fear and startlement on his face, but I told him that I had only wished this into being a month before, unknowing how powerful the wish was- that in only a month it culminated into being like this. Perhaps that is why the belly is so small, I said; but the child is likely normal. He was quiet, fearful...

The moment came. The rush of fluid on my legs, and suddenly people were in a frenzy to put down a sheet on the floor, taking apart the extra bed in the room to make more floor space. I was laughing and laughing, the water running like a river down my thighs. I thought, as long as I keep laughing this will go easily, and quickly! Eventually I realized the child was still in the pelvic brim, and I was worried for a time; I stopped laughing and looked at one of the women near me. I said, the child is in the pelvic brim... how long is it safe to be there? She smiled at my worry and said; that is where they all rest, that is the longest part; don't worry, it is what always happens. I felt up between my legs and felt the head, with hair, stopped there- and suddenly had the urge to squat and make it be.

There were other things going on at the same time. The house was near the ocean, and (before? after?) the birth I was swimming and playing with some sort of being in its waters.

During the birth, after I felt the head, I ran outside. I dug my toes in the mud, though it was chilly; and looked about at the colored leaves lying on the ground. I must be with the earth, I said; a man near me said- that is where the power lies, that is wise. My toes dug deep in the mud and I looked around- the child will be dirty if I drop her here; but I am comfortable here...
The child, meanwhile, was quiet. It worried me again, so I tapped gently on the belly and did get a response, and a renewed vigor to come on out into the world.
I don't recall dreaming the actual process, but eventually there was an infant in my hands, tiny (smaller than I imagined) and calm. But that didn't seem to be the point of the dream, the child; it seemed that the process was what mattered here.

Huh. I will have to process this later... I have an exam to take... perhaps I studied too hard yesterday?
Oh and don't worry- I'm not planning on *actually* having children yet (ever?). Intense dream though.

Letting go of pain

2009-11-15T23:51:00.000-05:00

Tue, January 16, 2007
In response to the question: how do you let go of childhood stuff, and bounce back so quick? How did you pick up the reins of your life like that?

I'll preface it by saying that I dealt with some seriously sick shit as a kid. Violence, first physical and then when I stood up to my aggressor (now ex-stepfather) it became several long years of systematic emotional and verbal abuse. I became a very very angry and aggressive teen, with a tongue so sharp I could cut glass with it. The defenses were high, fast and complete. My natural strength and sweetness had become replaced by fear and I no longer remembered who I was.

Ahh, well. I guess the work I've done over the last 14 years to release my childhood stuff is to take a good long look at it and realize that none of it was my fault. When I was in Peace Corps Panama, I wrote a lot of it down and analyzed the hell out of it. I came to realize that I could not control the choices the adults in my life made for or towards me. I try to be gentle with myself when I find I am reacting badly to something, or with old patterns. Indeed, I just try to keep watch for patterns in general; and when things happen I say, "oh! There is that thing again!"

My friend July said something very wise once about patterns:
"Step one is when something happens, and later you say: hey, that's a pattern!
Step two is when you are in the middle of doing that something again, and say- hey, I'm doing that pattern thing again!
Step three is when you are about to do that thing again and say- oh, whoa, I was about to do that again... and deftly avoid it."
And then you have overcome the pattern, and the likelihood of it happening again is pretty low- because you are aware and watchful of it.

For example, I used to take everything anyone did very personally. If someone forgot to call, it was because they didn't like me (too ugly, stupid, said something dumb, bad, wrong, whathaveyou- echoes of a man who never should have had that much power over me). I learned with time to look objectively at things, and realize that you can take a step back and think:
Does this person really mean me harm like that? Have I truly 'done something' that would really cause that?
And since self-awareness is not always enough, I took to asking. It made me feel embarassed at first, but I learned with time that people aren't generally mean spirited (especially friends/ lovers) and to not take their every action personally somehow but wait for the answer.

I'd guess the most critical bit came when I realized:
Hey! I'm an adult! And that means I get to choose what I do, when I do it and where! Neat! Yes, it means responsibility, but to me that word means that I am responsible for my own choices, and I can choose how to act and so forth. After many years I've relaxed back into the sweet and generous person I know myself to be, because I am making the choices and if there is pain in my life, it's because I have allowed it or I have created a situation where it could occur.

Yes, I still have claws and fangs. They are there when I need them- and I pity the poor sucker that evokes my anger. I'm not really big, but when pushed I can do damage, truly. This is a power, and power has responsibilities- including when and where to use it. It takes a lot to anger me now, since I have mellowed out. I deal with things differently, and trust people until they give me a reason to stop doing so. I'd say my sharpness still peeks out now and then- I am a firecracker, let's be honest- but for the most part, I have a pretty good understanding of how low human beings can go to hurt one another, and I'm not interested in going there. I also know that most people aren't interested either, despite what the media would tell you.

One skill having a childhood like that has given me is that I am super aware of asshole behaviour. I do not tolerate it for one second. I can sniff an aggressor from a mile away and do not keep them in my sphere of influence. My entire being repels people like that, and I have learned to really trust my instincts and intuition. I've never been wrong, not once.

How does this make me a cork, like I stated in my last blog? Well, because I have seen what true pain is, and true aggression, I know that the day to day annoyances I feel sometimes are nothing, really. I know what being held down and held back is like. I also know what real depression and fear look like; I know how real the thought of suicide can be (wouldn't you want to kill yourself if you heard everyday that you were stupid and ugly, bad and wrong, no matter your efforts? Like the dog in the pool experiments... only I never ever gave up.) So nothing I experience in this life right now is as bad as what I have gone through. It gave me my wisdom and so I don't regret it, because I would not be this insightful. Nor would I have the degree of empathy that I've got; there's nothing like living in fear of an adult's moods to prime your instincts to 'feeling' out people's emotive states into the highest degree. I know how people are feeling just by walking into the room- that is why I was such a good waitress. heh. Anyway, it is what it is, I can't look back and hate or fear what happened, I can only walk forward and promise to stop the violence there. I do not perpetuate violence in my own life, and prevent it when I see it.

I live in joy, finally able to admit that I'm smart, talented and beautiful- you have no idea how hard that was, to get here and be able to say that and mean it! Nothing can ever ever ever be that bad again.

Reiki Dancer

2009-11-15T23:45:00.002-05:00

Tue, January 2, 2007
Thank you Jason, one of the finest New Year celebrations yet. I have rung in the year surrounded by love and joy, and this will carry me through the long months ahead.

I want to share an amazing moment...

In the house there is a room painted gold. The lights were gentle on the eyes, and the music gentle on the ears and the soul. The room held musicians and several beautiful dancers... we danced together, but not always at the same time.

I was conversing by a doorway for a time. When the conversation was through, I looked to the center of the room and saw only one lady, trance dancing from the heart. Her movements were slow and languid, full of heart and purpose. Her lovely moon face held an expression of bliss and complete surrender to where the music and the accompanying musicians were taking her. In a moment of spontaneity, I came to my knees before her and held my hands gently in front of me to hold space for her. Without thought or purpose, I found myself tracing the sacred Reiki symbol for emotion in the air at the level of her womb, keeping my hands clear of her space, trying not to disturb her aura of bliss. And held the space.

She could feel me there; she would return again and again to the sphere my hands made, the ball of energy I was holding and directing to her. At times she would dip her hands into the sphere, and cast it above her head or toward the musicians. Only once did our hands touch, but she did not trouble to open her eyes- she lingered in the energy, in the dance, weaving grace and love and energy in the infinite moment she held. The entire room was still, all the souls there giving her the space to weave this spell.

When the music did end, she opened her eyes, and came to her knees, shaking. She had felt what I had done, and was shining. It was beautiful to see, beautiful to find it so appreciated and enjoyed.

"That was all for you" I told her. And it is true. It was something I completely enjoyed giving.

She still shook and was unable to create words, and so we grounded together and brought her back.

This is something I wish to experiment with again... I wonder if it would be truly as powerful if the person recieving knew the energy was coming in? She was an open channel in that moment, completely unaware of me, locked into her own moment and her own bliss. I did not wish to break it, but enhance it. Ahhhhh.

strange dream

2009-11-15T23:43:00.002-05:00

Wed, December 6, 2006
On the morning of the full moon I awoke with this dream still wafting from my mind...

I was near the banks of a body of water, small- like my pond, or like a stream perhaps (I could see the other bank.) I was at some sort of a picnic, but most of the people were leaving/ had left. When I glanced over at the bank of the water, where the lawn blended into cattails and whatnot, I saw some large feathers lying on the ground. True to habit, I went over to collect them- I love feathers, and have a pretty nice collection (in my waking life.) They were amazing feathers, long and solid like cock feathers, but much larger; black with red tips. I thought to myself- "oh! This belongs to that rare raptor..." (and the name rang in my mind... cannot capture it now...). As I walked over to gather the feather, I saw that there were many lying on the ground- tail, wing and primary blood feathers. On the feathers I saw frank blood... and began to have a sinking feeling I was walking into something tragic.

I found the bird floundering on the bank. It was badly injured, part of its wing was blasted off somehow or missing at least; it was bedraggled and bleeding. I still clutched a large group of its feathers in my hands, which I placed on the picnic table while I looked around for something to capture the bird with so I could transport it.

A man was nearby- he was in his 20s, roughly, with tousled brown hair. He saw the predicament and while I was looking for a picnic blanket, he found a paper grocery bag and rolled the top down a little and walked over to the bird. I started towards the bird too and watched as he scooped the bird safely into the bag. When he had the bird in the bag I went over and said, 'how did you know how to do that?' and he told me he'd worked with birds for a summer, and that was their low tech solution.

He handed me the bird, and I took it part way out of the bag to look it over. It was bright and alert, looking at me, but in really bad shape so I started making plans to transport it to our hospital here at school. Just then a flock of what looked like grey peacocks came over and crowded around me. It frightened me a little, because they were tall. They looked tall like peacocks or our wild turkeys here, but a beatiful pearl grey with neat feathers on their crown like peacocks had; not any bird I'd ever seen in real life. They were coming right up against my legs, and so I shooed them away gently but they were not afraid and did not move at all. They seemed curious about the bird in my hands; when I looked again at the bird I held, it was more like a loon or a teal and I knew it to be such a thing.

Before I left to bring the bird to my car, though, I made sure to walk to the picnic table and gather all the feathers... ever the magpie am I...

and awoke.

Birds, I will have to look into the dream symbolism of them; it is not often I dream of birds (more often I dream of horses.) I do dream of flying but I don't think it's the same thing. I love peacocks, their colors and their feathers; and I have a lot of respect for raptors, and am always captivated by them, and see them everywhere in their flight. I even love vultures (they have the most beautiful flight silhouette of them all.) I will have to investigate. Any ideas?

Ghetto ass crack

2009-11-15T23:43:00.001-05:00

Tue, November 14, 2006
So... some of you may have attended Jason's fundraiser on Friday, and perhaps you stayed long enough for the glory that is the firespinning. Ahhhh! Such talented friends we have, eh?

But didja see that frickin chick with her ENTIRE thong hanging out???

Yeah- that'd be me.
Wooot!

Sorry.... totally hilarous, unintentional, see, the leather pants have stretched and I've lost some weight (buff gym babe!) and viola, everyone knows I'm wearing butt floss.

Ahem.
Yeah, technical difficulties.

I'm not the kind of girl to think that a giant chunk of ass complete with thong sticking out of my pants is hot. I'm not! Anyway it wasn't a hint, or a tease, it was plumber's ass crack. What a joke. I hope you were laughing, cuz I sure am.

Next time I'll wear the bright orange one with the rhinestones and go all-out-ghetto, for your viewing pleasure.

Busted

2009-11-15T23:40:00.000-05:00

Wed, November 8, 2006
So some of you have seen my neighbors. A few of you have even met them. Perhaps you remember my run in with them when they got all excited about my firespinning: people.tribe.net/feyfern/b...6d0063e07e

Anyway... my life is fairly routine, studying at my little desk when I am not in classes. My room is at the front of the house, and the desk is between two lovely large windows- which means I can see the comings and goings of all the trucks, toys, visitors, large equipment and everything else that comes up and down the driveway hundreds of times a day. As wide as the gap is between my perception of the world and theirs, I enjoy their company occasionally- I go outside, shoot the shit with them, taking in the vernacular and the stories about drunken crashes of this and that.

They're hicks. They're a good sort, kind hearted guys, really sweet, but not too bright. Last week a firetruck pulled up and a bunch of firemen came streaming across the lawn (cutest thing ever- one of them looked like he hadn't even started shaving! Cuuuute!) so I got all excited, and went out to see what the fuss was all about. They were burning THE ENTIRE brush pile out in the backyard- tires, tarps and all. The nieghbors down the road were pissed bacause billows of thick black smoke were washing over their houses. Hello? Tires? Tarps?
"Yeah, the smoke was so fuckin' thick, I couldn't see 5 feet in fronta me!"
They had no idea why the neighbors were mad.
"Meddlin' bunch a quacks".

hahaha!
So it really is an endless source of amusement; if you can appreciate them for who and what they are, at face value. And I do.

Anyway, onto the latest... I was studying this past weekend when I saw a towtruck pull in, loaded up with dirtbikes and ATVs. I had seen the pack leave a few hours before (after several ripping test runs up and down the driveway and across the lawn) on their dirtbikes, but I didn't recognize the ATVs. Oh, great, more toys for the barn. Alyssum and I watched from the window as the truck made its climb up the drive.
"What do you suppose they're up to now?" I wondered.
"Oooh! Oooh! Go and see!" said Alyssum... and since I'm nosey (yes, I'll be the old lady twitching the curtains later in life- no, F that, I'll be staring over the fence) and know them a little, I obliged.
Anyway I'm always looking for an opportunity to openly make fun of them. I do it all the time; I don't think they realize just how much I laugh at them.

Out onto the porch I went, in my pj's. (I can't study well unless I'm wearing pjs, that's just how it is).

Grant was standing out there in his dirtbike pants, while two other guys unloaded the tow truck.

"What happened, didja get busted?" He just scowled, so I laughed.
Andy came up the path.
"Busted, huh?"
"Yeah! Gonna cost us $350 just for the fukin tow, too! Fukin Sutton cops, buncha bastahds! We was just standin around, shootin the shit, they fukin came up in ATVs so we thought they was just some more guys, ya know? And so we were sittin ducks, fuk! They fukin busted us. There was a couple 15 year olds- them ATVs are theirs- and they started cryin- "my dad's gonna kill me!" I felt bad. Shit. So fukin, we gotta pay fines n shit, trespassing- like we're gonna wreck a gravel pit? Fukin bastahds. And they dropped Grant's bike on the tower, too, busted his radiator n shit. Fuk. I'm fahkin pisst!"

Yep.

So bad little monkey I am, I snuck inside and got this little photo for y'all. Hilarious. Totally and completely. And know what? They will be back out there this weekend.

Wild Ride

2009-11-15T23:39:00.002-05:00

Fri, October 20, 2006
I was making tea in the cottage, listening to the birds outside suddenly fly into a frenzy. Someone was coming. I could see the riders on the road as it weaved towards the cottage, tucked away at the edge of the village nearly into the forest. The intuition was strong; it was time, they had come for me. I was being hunted.

I knew this day would come. I had felt it in my bones since the snows began to melt; it was only a matter of time. I doused the fire, tucked the tea away and gathered the bundle by the door that had been made ready weeks previously. Stuffing some provisions into the pack, I threw on my long cloak and hurried to the barn.

On the way I sent out thoughts of calm to the birds deep in the woods, telling them I would be passing and to hide me as best they could. Once in the barn I radiated thoughts of urgency but calm to the horse in the stall, munching away on hay, content as could be. "Azrai, time to go now." He stuck his head over the door and nickered curiously at me. On first glimpse, he was a short, fat, dumpy looking draft; all feet and butt. I led him out of the stall and stroked his neck, murmuring under my breath to release the glamour held upon him all these years. All who knew him knew a retired plough horse that carried me and my herbs to town now and then; they would not have believed their eyes would they have seen him after that moment. As my hand passed along his neck onto his back, I released the illusion and revealed him for what he was; strong, slim of leg, with an incredibly athletic build. He was not terribly tall, but a supreme king of his kind- given to me as a gift from the king of the plains men, a dark king who thought it a fine gift after I saved his cows.

He shook all over, free of the strange feeling he'd carried since I brought him here- no longer a stocky dapple draft, but the sleek, black racer he was. He was entirely black but for the heart shaped blaze upon his brow- and beautiful. I saddled him quickly, tying on blankets and the pack, and led him into the forest. One small spell made him light of foot so we made no tracks and no sound. The birds were on our side, as it turns out; we walked a ways into the forest until we found the path leading out to the great fields. My plan was to make it to the mountains, where the witches there would hide us- I would be once again among my kind, as I was no longer welcome in the village I had called my home for so many years.

I knew what this was. It was not the villager's doings; they were relieved though apprehensive when I moved in the little dusty cottage by the woods. After I had done quite a bit of healing for them and their animals, though, I began to find gifts and offereings by my gate more and more often; I never hungered here. No, this trouble was coming from the crown city- always does.

We found the track. Before I mounted I pulled his head down and whispered in his ear: "This is it, friend, this is the time- I need your quick feet to get us to safety. Goddess give you wings." and lit softly onto his back. We trotted out to the field edge... the birds did not give us away... and I pointed him towards the mountains, loosened the reins, and let him go. Out of the forest we blazed, the very devil at our backs it seemed; but we had gained a lot of lead. The cloak hood was pulled tight round my bright hair; beneath it's cowl I looked at my cottage, ablaze... sadness crept into my heart... healer, witch, friend- enemy. I did not understand then, and perhaps I don't understand now. I could see one of them standing in my garden, hacking apart the careful work with a sword... and knew I was spotted; a great shout went up, and the company was on the move.

I bent low on Azrai's neck, whispering him on. "Go, great heart, now, go!" Though he was not tall, he was one of the quickest of his kind. I thought with intense gratitude of the king on the plains who gave this amazing animal into my care. Perhaps he knew, perhaps.

The company was swift, mounting and flying immediately into a galloping chase. Although my Azrai was small and swift, these horses were tall and long of leg- and had the advantage of constant training and fitness. Poor Azrai, I could not run him as much as I would have liked! It would have aroused too much suspicion; we trained now and then in the dark of night, under what illusions I could grant us in the waning moon... And so the soldiers began to gain ground.

I had a plan- a dangerous, heart wrenching plan; if Azrai could do it we would survive; otherwise, we would die trying or die at their hands. I wanted to pick the death of freedom. The horse, now, he was running of a will; what a great heart, great spirit he had! He was running tirelessly, feeling my urgency, carrying us away. I gently steered him to the east, away from the mountains within our sight, slightly. I had planned this escape in my mind for weeks now, because I knew we would not outrun them forever. We were headed for the Cliffs, the sheer precipice above the Lally River. It was a great crack in the earth, narrow yet deep; it was 10 feet across, that gap, and a half mile down straight into the rocky Lally- and certain death. No one would survive that fall.

We neared the cliff. My heart was pounding in time to Azrai's hooves. I leaned close into his neck, urging him on, giving him full rein...
I calmed my breath, and visualized the jump. Every day I had sat in the meadow with him by my side, visualizing this dangerous feat, imagining it flawlessly, beginning to end. We could do it. I meditated to him, sending him the image of this jump until I felt certain that he imagined it as perfectly as I, as if we had done it together a thousand times. I began this weeks ago, feeling this day was coming; now it was here- and we would do the jump, or die.

The host was closing in on us. I could hear the snorting breaths of their mounts. Closer and closer to the cliffs we went, and I could hear the men exclaiming in alarm, "Girl, stop now, surrender! That is death ahead! Stop, I demand you stop!" Closer they came, and closer we were to the edge... closer... I felt a sword whistle through the cloak streaming behind me, and closed my eyes.
I visualized a bridge ahead of us, in the air, made of pure light. Then I imagined wings of energy and light beneath my mount. I pressed my hands into his neck, pulling all the energy I could into my hands and down into his body. And then, before I could even imagine it, we were soaring into the air. He never hesitated. I made myself still on his back, imagined I weighed nothing. I felt we were suspended in time, suspended in the clean air above the gorge. My heart stopped, I felt, but I stayed calm, pressing energy into him, going, going...
And then we were clear. He made it. He kept galloping on the other side, and I let him run a little ways. Looking behind me I saw the company had come to a dangerous halt near the edge, horses screaming, balking, sitting on haunches to keep from flying over the edge, shoving gravel, stones and dirt before them over the precipice. They were angry. I let Azrai keep running- for once they realized we were clearing the gorge, the arrows began. We ran until we were out of range and I pulled him into a trot.

I dared not let him stop, for I knew they would regroup and gallop to the west a ways to the bridge. We had to keep our advantage, hard won as it was. Still, I pulled him down to a walk and slumped on his neck, crying tears of relief and joy- we made the jump! We would survive! He was lathered and heaving, nostrils flared, tired but proud- so proud... I praised him over and over, telling him he truly was the king of his band, the most amazing horse I have ever known.

This was inspired by bits and pieces of imaginings and dreams I have had over the years; most recently this morning, again to Prodigy... in the gym... who needs TV when you have an imagination like mine? Got my heart pumping. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

Narayan

2009-11-15T23:39:00.001-05:00

Mon, October 16, 2006
I was walking through a city park, lush with grass and changing leaves. The sun was warm and gentle, teasing my eyes with visions and sweet emotions. There I saw in the sweet green grass a man- still yet in motion, moving slowly, eyes closed, posture perfect.
What was it he was doing? Tai chi? Yoga? I did not know, unschooled as I am in those arts.

What I saw was a beautiful concentration, energy and purity pouring from his body, every muscle controlled and supple, tensed yet calm- like watching a cat stretching.

I watched to see what space he occupied; his eyes were closed yet he contained himself in a small circle. Such perfect concentration, I saw in wonder, such amazing controlled energy. He was completely alone in a crowded park on a beautiful day.

I was moved by this, so moved; and suddenly knew what it was I had to do.

I sat outside the circle he made with his movements and closed my eyes, my hands extended slightly and gently before me, holding space. Adding energy, feeling energy... Would he feel it? I did not wish to disturb him... I put the energy out there, if he wants it he can have it, it is not mine to give or take... the beauty of universal Reiki.

I could feel the power, his grace and beauty, and my own; relaxed into it, feeding it. The sun warmed my back and relaxed my mind
My muscles
My soul...
Holding space, giving energy.

I began to feel the energy change subtly at first, growing stronger, sweeter. I felt a giggle bubble up- where is that from? My fey nature kicking in (uh oh, we're too serious here, gotta throw a little chaos in)?

I began to feel the energy concentrated around my hands (I feel another energy...) so I smiled and moved with it, felt him moving with me.
A breeze came, moved my hair- I opened my eyes and looked straight into his. He sat before me on the grass, his hands aligned with mine, inches away, moving with me in perfect grace, smiling as bright as the sun- looking for all the world as natural there as the trees that lived in the park for the last 100 years.

This was inspired by Prodigy "Narayan"
It unfolded in my mind as I worked my body at the gym, headphones in my ears, eyes closed... I have some pretty wild imaginings while I work out but this one felt sweet and special. Thought I would share...

Slaughter

2009-11-15T23:38:00.000-05:00

Fri, October 13, 2006
Part of my curriculum is to learn about "food animals"- cattle, pigs, sheep, goats and chickens. We don't even call them just animals, we call them food animals.
Well today we were learning about the USDA food inspection service... they are desperate to hire vets for this. So they showed us a video of what happens at the slaughter plants- videos the USDA uses as part of its' training protocol; complete with obnoxious elevator jazz and a jaunty, confident male voice over describing each of the acts.

I was in tears. Completely bawling. And alone in this.

Oh, everyone was stunned, and silent; no one likes to see animals killed (unless you are psycho). But a lot of people are immune to it, either from anatomy class or whatever. But watching the animals nose to rump, croweded as the voice over said
"According to the Human Slaughter Act, all animals have access to fresh water". The trough was at one end and no one could move. Who exactly has access?

The are moved into a chute, scared, stressed, and get a bolt between the eyes; or electro-shocked. Some wake up as they are hung by one leg and having a knife thrust into their chest to bleed them out. They kick. The professor said; "that's just reflexes" Maybe... maybe not. How do we know? How do we KNOW they aren't scared, painful, desperate???

I feel so sick inside. I know that the american population likes its meat, and that this is a huge and established business. The people in the assembly line (haha, disassembly line) are moving so fast they can't even properly concentrate on what they are doing- working in wet conditions, moving quickly... they too are immune to the death, and the animals get no thought, no respect at all for the life they have given up. They leave as chunks in a cooler truck, completely unrecognizable as what they once were...

A hunter once asked me: "Do you hate me because I hunt?"
My answer was, "I hate no man who tries to put meat (food) on his family's table. If it is done humanely, fairly and with respect, it is the oldest spiritual interaction known to life. The dance of the prey and predator. I would eat your venison if I knew you did it correctly, you felt sadness in your heart and gladness for your own survival, if you did not waste and were conscious... I would eat it then." He did not know what to say to that.

There is no respect in this. None at all. These animals lead a crappy life right up until they die, and the meat isn't even good for you because their diets before they are killed are bad for them.
My tears today are for them, and not nearly enough.

gorgeous!

2009-11-15T23:36:00.000-05:00

Wed, October 11, 2006
Ahhhh... I love the change of seasons, and the leaves are finally turning. I am a 4 seaon girl, I love them all... the air is finally getting crisper and I made my applesauce last night... mmm!

Some see it as a reminder that winter comes so soon, but for me- the time of hibernation is incredibly important. It allows me to really integrate what I am learning, deep into my bones. It reminds me of the pleasure of cuddling, warm blankets, purring kitties, cocoa and fire... and all the fine winter smells. I bought some cinnamon sticks today, in joyous preparation. I love it! Love fall, love winter!

It was not always so; I used to pine for summer, as the leaves fell and winter loomed near. Then I discovered the joys of playing in the snow- I learned to cross country ski, re-acquainted myself with sledding. Have you ever done a day hike in the forest, in deep deep snows? It is luscious. Absolutely incredible. You can track like a champ... listen to the sounds the woods make that the snows amplify... ahhhh... And the smell! I love the smell of snow on the trees. So special!

For now I will cherish the pumpkin and spice smell of fall. The smell of my neighbor's wood pile burning. Watching the coats get thicker on the animals... the horses are so fuzzy now!

So- go out and enjoy it... if you can't remember how, come over and I will make you mulled cider.

Maltitol = Horrible GI upset

2009-11-15T23:35:00.000-05:00

Mon, October 9, 2006
Not for the faint of heart...

Yeah so someone did something 'nice' for me: gave me a tub of 'sugar free' caramel.
You know, microwave it and dip apples in it.
MMmmmmm!!! Stuff I haven't touched in, well, a long time.
Never had sugar free...

Ok so I try to eat naturally, you know, stay away from too much processed crap.
(cheez its are my weakness. Hey, some people smoke; I eat cheez its, ok?)
But... caramel... ooooo... couldn't resist.

Well now I'm friggin paying. Paying good.
First my belly groaned, a terrible, deep, streching rubber sound...
uh oh, this is NOT going to be good...
then the pain began. And the bloat.
Hey, now I know what a horse in colic feels like! Fun! Happy happy joy joy!!

Then... oh, then... the worst part...
the caramel came out the back end, largely unchanged... I think... well, the consistency was right at any rate.

Hey I told you this was not for the faint of heart, eh?

Anyways, I have been reminded of what a damn good sprinter I am. Oh yes... the 50 yard toilet dash. Wheeeeeee!

Good goddess... that caramel is going in the garbage.
I will never ever eat maltitol ever ever again. Who knew?

I think I would have been better off if the package said:
"Eat at your own risk... explosive diarrhea may result.
Or, at the very least, don't leave the house"

ha!

For You

2009-11-15T23:34:00.000-05:00

Wed, Oct 24, 2006
So many good folks I know are feeling down and lost, weary and sad... this is for you...
you all know who you are.
With all my love, light, and blessings.

Remember that every year, the wheel turns
The world moves into darkness.
This is a time to reflect on what you have learned
Where you have been;
The smiles shared, new faces met and cherished.
In times past, people would gather at this time of year
Around the fire...
To share stories, learn from what has gone before
And revel in the harvest.
We, who may be removed from the physical harvest of fruits,
Reflect instead on the harvest of our actions.
What did you sow this spring that has come to pass?
What is yet to come?

Don't worry, love, about the coming winter
That causes us all to look inward at the growth of the past year
And outward at the fear of the coming darkness.
The wheel moves onward, the dark days will come
But this too shall pass.
Reflect instead and say thanks for
The lessons learned, the loves gained, or lost;
For the amazing connections we foster even now.
For what comes of darkness but light, and growth?
From the blackest soils grow the brightest flowers.

Remember too, that I love you, deep and true;
That I am a candle for you as you are for me.
For that is community, and friendship.

Reap what you have sown and take the sadness from your gaze
For nothing is lost here but the light of day.
Relax, let your mind go; remember to breathe
Hope
And nurture your dreams.

Remember too that nothing in this world is
As important as Love.
I lived once in a poverty stricken country,
And that is what they taught me...
Nothing
Nothing
Is as important as Love, and the people
You call Family
And Family is not always blood, is it?

So revel in the dark days
As part of your process.
Call me if you like, for I am always here for you.
As I know you are always there for me.

You, reading this, take this personally
Even if you think it isn't meant for you...
love
love
love
Meena

Crossroad

2009-11-15T23:33:00.002-05:00

Tue, Sept 26, 2006
I walked through the forest alone today, to celebrate my birthday for myself... and walking had this experience I'd like to share with you. Sit down while I spin you this tale, taken from my journal this afternoon.

I've sat down to write because I came to a crossroad and for some reason was struck dumb with awe, recognition, precognition... the trail sign said " <--- Berlin Rd ---> "

The path crossing the trail I am on has deeply worn twin ruts with rocks and grass between; old cart tracks, I think, gently curving along through the forest.

I feel suspended in a faerie story; if I sit here quietly the noble Fey will come, or perhaps an old crone; or, perhaps, legendary love. This is of course what my heart wishes. A love of legend, reciprocal and true. If this is indeed an ancient crossroad holding all the magic of the thinning veils (now that the equinox is past), then a lass can sit and dream of love and along he comes whistling a fine tune, carrying perhaps a bag of apples from the orchard nearby...

Yes, on my 31st birthday I still believe in magic, and love.

What's this I hear? Footsteps approaching! I dare not look... but I do. Not he, says me! It is an older man with a friendly smile who does not break his stride. Sigh.

Ah, but the sun is gentle and warm and the breeze speaks of crisp nights to come, tis magic enough I know.
Yet I sit at this crossroad and dream, did gypsy carts pass this way, to entertain the villages in the fall when the leaves are bright and the skies blue? I can picture the beautiful black and white gypsy vanner horses, pulling gaily painted carts decked with banners. Did lovers pass this way to their neighbor's orchards to help with the harvest?

It appears though that there is naught at this crossroad but me, the crickets, the moss and the trees...

Deeper into the forest I am now, after passing among old mortarless stone walls meandering through the trees, now purposeless as the Mother has seeded wild chaos back into these lands. I am on a large flat expanse of river shale with a quiet, neat and small fire pit in the center- so like me to find the fire... The trees are parted slightly and I can see across a valley to another hill beyond, covered in trees; I am removed from time here.

Pines surround this glade and it is quiet but for their whispers. It is a sound I love, a lullaby that reaches deep into my soul and caresses my heart. I get this way when I am alone with the trees, a stillness tinged with melancholy; yet so full of love and wonder that I burst with it, palms hot, mind dancing.

The magic is here, in my heart as much as in these old trees and stones. I am alone but never lonely.

I feel my ancestors in this place. Did they smell the ferns and feel that deep longing, as I do? Did their hearts swell for the simple beauty of sun on stone and green? We were witches, as far back as the heart can recollect, and so I believe they did; they were drawn into this old wild quiet beauty as much as I, but perhaps their understanding of what this longing means was more complete...

A chill comes now to the air as evening comes, and so I will make my way home. I will come here again, even in winter's deep snows...

Wicker Man Burning

2009-11-15T23:33:00.001-05:00

Sun, Sept 24, 2006
I went with Trouz Bras to Hudson NY this weekend to the Riverfire Celtic celebration... in honor of the Equinox. I got to spin fire with Pheonix Fire during the day and then I spun during the evening concert with Trouz Bras! It was in a huge old factory, "Basilica Industriel". It looked like a castle with huge candelabras aglow, flags on the stone walls... mmmmm... I got to leap, spin and cavort in front of the stage with fire in front of a great audience. I alternated bellydance with fire, throughout the set, with crazy energetic costume changes... sharing a 'green room' with 15 little Traditional Irish dance girls... amazing! So much fun; the audience loved it.

After the concert (with other bands such as Coyote Run- yay! after us), we went outside to burn the Wickerman... wow!! The crazy owner climbed atop the roof of the outbuilding near the Wickerman (with moveable arms) wearing a top hat and ceremonial coat; shouted for the harvest and threw a HUGE burning torch into the 30 foot tall man... covered with diesel fuel (ahem, not good, I might add). But it was certainly spectacular, an exhausting day... and I made the front page of the newspaper, with the photo you see above. Whooooo hooo!

Emotional Intelligence

2009-11-15T23:32:00.001-05:00

Wed, September 13, 2006
Vet school being what it is- a powerhouse, a sweatshop, of knowledge, indoctrinating me in the ways of diagnosis and treatment... it is no wonder that a lot of vets end up crazy, unbalanced, and unable to see that they affect the world around them with their energy and mood.

We had a special guest speaker at a lunch time talk this week; he also did a talk in the evening, and I was so impressed I went to both.

His message was simple: a lot of people (not everyone!) that get into work with animals do so because they don't like people; a stunning percentage of vet nurses have been abused or molested. There is a serious lack of self esteem and emotional maturity in the profession. He was describing such vet hospitals full of broken people, like one big dysfunctional family, and I HAVE BEEN THERE! I have worked for the vet that blows up over small things; throws stuff; freaks out... and it's not normal to do that!

He maintained that in order to have a successful practice with a good staff, you have to look out for people with what he calls Emotional intelligence... people who are aware of their own emotions, the emotions of others, and carry enough self confidence to tell the difference and not take constructive criticism as an attack on their person.

Being someone who has done a lot of work over the last 12 years to recover from an abusive childhood, I recognize where I fit into that scheme and am so proud to have risen above a lot of it; I also have the ability to see where other people remain stuck. None of the folks that really could have used that info came to the talk, sadly.

It was inspiring to me to hear someone say that this wholesale divorcing of emotion, intuition and feeling from one's life work is damaging! We are forced to choke down how we feel, and that leads to nothing but a ticking time bomb. A lot of people are messed up in the world today, having been told that their voices are worthless and their feelings invalid- take a look around you at all the neurosis that exist; addiction to things that numb us (cigarettes, drugs, alcohol, food, sex), inattention to daily life aside from routine and TV...

The most hilarous thing he said (and I agree!) is that pets have become little extensions of people's neurosis on leashes. Ha! It's so true. As a vet not only do you have to work with people and like it, you have to be part psychologist too... but this profession only fosters those who can survive this boot camp, and this does not for a feeling and balanced person make!

How do I do it? I do a lot of self reflection. I keep in touch with how I am feeling, and admit to myself my issues if I am flipping out or lethargic and unable to get out of bed to study one more goddam page of crap. I stay close to my friends and my family; I skip classes for sanity; I accept that I will not get A's, I might get B's, and I'm fine with C's. I accept that I love people as much as I love my brother and sister creatures, and that I am a healer for all, not just one. I accept that I cannot do it all, but the only thing I can do safely and successfully is heal myself, keep myself healthy, and do the best I can with everything else. I refuse to lose sight of who I am and the joy and magic I embody, it is not worth it. I refuse to let the love in my heart go. I refuse to play the game that will numb me up and make me less of a person so I can be more of a success. I keep a journal... I stretch... I take time out... I read stuff that has nothing to do with vet school... and I will stay in my circle of friends, because you all mean more to me than any amount of money, success, or ambition.

That is my promise to myself: I will stay rooted in my feelings and emotions, even if it means I cry from the frustration; I will stay connected to the spirit and that swirling feeling of giddy joy that comes when my soul is whole. And I will never ever ever be that vet who forgets that staff are people too, and every bit as important to what I do as my education is/was.
blessed be.

I am NOT a trained donkey

2009-11-15T23:31:00.000-05:00

Fri, August 18, 2006
My downstairs neighbors are... oh, how to say it without seeming un-PC or uncharitable? Well, they are nice guys, and, um, hicks. yes, hicks.
I have lost count of the number of pickup trucks in the driveway. There are two barns full of toys ideal for the Hick Olympics: ATVs, boats, motorcycles, dirtbikes, snowmobiles, you name it; plus an assorted number of like minded folks that casually drop by for a visit each evening. But, like I said, nice guys; always happy to say hi and always willing to share a beer.
Oh, yes, beer.
An untold number of cases of Bud Light enters the house by the case, leaving in the form of piss as one after another they stand at the outer circle of the Tiki torches and piss away into the darkness, cigarette casually poised between lips, not even stopping the stories and laughter all the while.

I'm upstairs, in my pj's, curled up on my velvet Elizabethan chair, watching a movie.

"Jess, hey! Jess!"

I look out the window and see 10 or so people sitting around on lawn furniture, a big case of Bud Light on the table. All 10 peer up at me through the light of the Tikis, and I stare down through the gloom to see what they want.

"Hey, we wanna see fire! Give us a fire show!"
I am faintly annoyed; just last week all of these fine young men with large trucks neatly avoided helping me go buy a kitchen table, forcing me to ask my mom to use her brand new Infinity bat mobile/SUV. I'm not in the mood to entertain them.

"Where's the cash?" I say, "I'm professional, you know; this shit ain't free anymore."
(I had shown them what I do the first week I moved in; I felt it a nieghborly thing to do, a bonding experience I guess.)
Well they all just laughed at this so I went back to my movie.

Ten minutes later, I hear a knock at my kitchen door. There's the best lookin' of them, with the child in tow (one of the guys downstairs had a kid with his high school sweetheart, born the summer after graduation from said high school.)

"Uh, Caleb here wants to see fire. Tell her, Caleb."
"Kitty!"

Ahem.

"Well, look at you, shameless, bringing the child here to convince me!"

He looks sheepishly down at his beer but grins; "He really does want to see it."
I look at the child, 4 years old, precocious, bold and sporting a mohawk.
"You wanna see fire, is that it?"
He looks up at me and says, "Yep... kitty!!! I wanna pet your kitty!"

Riiiiiiiiggghhhttt.

"We'll even hook up music for you."
"Yeah, not tonight, I am watching a movie and it just got good!"
"Oh- are those pyjamas? Oh. Maybe we'll ask you tomorrow."
And off they go.

Was I invited to have a beer, before all this began? No. I was annoyed. I will not be there tonight. I'm not a trained donkey to be trotted out for your party! (Unless of course you give me money...)

;-P

On Love and Loneliness

2009-11-15T23:30:00.000-05:00

Mon, August 14, 2006
Here's something I've been pondering for a bit.

Sitting out here in Central Mass, isolated from everyone I know (well, I do have my kitties with me!), I've been pretty lonely. I have gone days and days now without any contact at all, save the telephone; I feel adrift, cut off and not right. Out of sorts. I was never cut out to be a loner or a hermit. I can't help it, really. I truly enjoy human contact, and more than just a hello to the teller at the bank.

I have heard, from people I consider to be wiser than myself, that to long for love is a sign of weakness and dissatisfaction with one's own soul, standing, spirit, whatever. I take it all to mean that to long for human companionship, to long for love, tribe, family, is considered weakness and bad and wrong from a spiritual growth standpoint. (Funny... I don't feel weak, or bad, or wrong. Just lonely.)

But, being a person who wishes to grow and evolve I think to myself; well, guess I have a long way to go... because I really truly don't feel quite right without human contact. Without my tribe. I don't feel quite as whole as I do when I am surrounded by the people I love and care about. Even if I am not hanging out by their sides every moment, it is enough to know they are there. Nearby somewhere, so that if I do wish to see them they are there. Not hours away!

I like my solitude, don't get me wrong. I love my 'alone time', when I can create, write, think, dream, self-love, whatever. But this feeling of being adrift, without my tribe, is almost unbearable. I did it for two whole years in Panama in the Peace Corps. I can tell you all about solitude, all about being alone when being surrounded by throngs of people... it's truly rough when you are surrounded by warm bodies, none of whom can even remotely fathom the depths of you...

So is it wrong, as according to the sages, to wish for my tribe? To want to be near the people I miss? To wish to have human contact? Or is it just the longing for a mate that the sages feel is weakness? Not that I don't crave that; the sexual and spiritual intimacy, there's nothing like it. The knowing that someone is caring for you, thinking of you and that you can return the feeling.

Is this dependence, sick, bad, imbalanced? I hate to feel that it is; we as people are tribal animals, we are meant to live in packs and be around one another- why else would we have so many ways of creating intimacy with one another? To me there is nothing in the world like the intimacy of caring for another human being. It is not enough to simply live in the world and know yourself, it is amazing to be able to breach the walls in another being's world and begin to understand them as well. It's amazing that we can even communicate, since our internal worlds are so different; but that is part of the fun, the challenge, the mystery.

Perhaps I need to re-evaluate the messages of the sages. It is not that I feel the need to obsess over another human being... far from it; I miss the love that frees the self, the intimacy of friendship that makes life worth living. What I did discover in Panama is that love is truly the only thing that matters; not success, not social standing, not possessions or anything else... just love. With the great capacity for love that we have, it is pointless to see it squandered. Love is not possession, not about owning someone or their time or jealousy or any of that; it is simply about keeping the threads alive to those that matter in your life and nurturing the life that it brings.

That is love, and without it I am lonely; without it I am another person trying to 'succeed' and 'get somewhere', but where I am going if not here, with all of you?

True Magic

2009-11-15T23:29:00.000-05:00

Sat, August 12, 2006
As the summer wanes and school approaches, I am reflective of how to keep the magic I nurtured in myself all summer. I have learned a lot since this spring and have felt the flow from my fingers and my curves all through the heat of the days... I have found myself feeling a little sad that I will soon buckle down and risk losing this deep contentment as I spiral back into the bowels of my education.

I have truly been blessed this summer. I recieved my Reiki II attunement two days after finals this spring, and the torrent of experience, energy and emotion has really been amazing. I feel more and more clear and the waters running through my mind feel sweeter and more pure. (I feel this is the best way to describe it). I was uncertain how the journey would affect me and at times I have been overwhelmed by the amount of sensation that runs through; there were moments I felt I could not handle it but someone once said: the Universe only gives you exactly what you can handle. And so I do.

But this magic! Oh, this magic! I thought it had fled. I feared it was gone, buried under too much school work and emotional hurts. Having it laid bare by such a summer as this has shown me what I am capable of, and I am loathe to let it go; it is too easy, when in school, to forget- to blend in with the rest (muggles? Is it fair to say that?), to let it become dusty for fear of overwhelming the folks around me... I hide myself too much sometimes, but only to ease my life in terms of dealing with the rest of the world.

Doesn't the world need magic? Only the ticket sales for each new magical movie are necessary to prove that, yes? I am nothing if not chaotic, wild, hilarous magic. But I let it go! I always let it go; it seems easier than dealing with judgement of this place, this small community of PC people, this petrie dish of neurosis (because truly, to be in vet school you have to have something wrong with you... we are all a little 'special' in our own ways). I never feel right, ever, here; I feel something missing always. Even today I have felt something amiss, something not right, for I am isolated already in my new home... a mile from school... as something of a melancholy hits me for thought of the work to come. Oh I will face it, and I will do it, I will soak it up and eat it whole, mop up the sauce that's left... I will do it... but need I lose myself meanwhile? Must I forget how to laugh, and create chaos, and put the spark and mystery into the obvious and explained? Where is there in science room for the magic I possess?

Last semester there was a bull calf in the stocks, and we were standing near his head talking about scrotal circumference in regards to fertility... (Read Kenna's fun facts for that info). He was scared, rightfully so; captured, surrounded, unable to flee. I surreptitiously came near and put my hands on his head, sending him a little love and calm. It was working- I was listening to the teacher, sending love energy, calming the calf down, when suddenly the teacher noticed what I was doing.
"what you doin', voodoo? Reiki or something?"
"Yes, Reiki." I said, deeply embarassed... they frown upon the alternatives for the most part here. Not as much as in other schools, but it is still distrusted.
Then he laughed, the rest of them laughed... but I continued on... but it tells me how much I hide what I can do. I know the calf felt better, I could see that. It was important to me. And this is part of my magic, the magic of healing... I do this all the time with the horses in the hospital, but I do not feel free as I do elsewhere!

So it turns out this is a whining crying rant. Oh well. It's gotta go somewhere.

So here is my promise to myself: I will be myself, no matter how much it feels out of place and strange- because the alternative is far too miserable. I am not like them. I can't be like them. I don't want to dress like them, talk like them, eat like them and think like them. I want the medicine, and I want to do it my way when I am done here. I can't let go of who I am- if it means I am labelled a freak so be it. It seems strange it has taken me two years to get to me like this (it really is easier to go along!) but here it is. Giving up myself made me miserable for two years; I went back to eating sugar and feeling like crap, wearing clothes and a face that don't belong to me.

It's not that easy! Especially in a place as conformist as this, this pressure cooker of experience and learning... so here I go. It begins August 21, and I will keep my magic by my side as a talisman, reminding me why I chose this path to begin with... not to conform, but to create the world of medicine anew in the direction it needs to go in.

The Ant Wars

2009-11-15T23:27:00.000-05:00

Mon, August 7, 2006
So I was sitting down for a little snack after moving into my new apartment... you know, shuffling things here and there, unpacking boxes, where does it all go? All that. Anyways, despite my good eating habits I have one junk food weakness...

Cheez Its.

I can't help it.

So anyways, I was sitting happily eating some cheezits when I suddenly felt a little creepy crawly. I had the teensiest red ant you could possibly imagine (I mean, really really tiny) crawling on my knee. No biggie.

Then I suddenly realized after about 30 seconds that I was CRAWLING with them. Not even joking! Now, I'm not a really sqeamish girl (earwigs heartily excepted). Spiders, caterpillars, whatever... they don't bother me. But discovering that you have in fact become a super highway for tiny red ants? Not so much. Yeah. I stood up and wiggled a lot, and believe me that was interesting- it was one of those 100 degree days we were having a few days ago- I was sweaty and salty and they LIKE that, so they were not interested in leaving!

OOOoooooo!

I had the crawlies for an hour after that.

SO I had to sadly toss out the crackers. I went to the cabinet and boy oh boy did they ever move in. So I took out all the opened goods; most went into the fridge.. the cans can stay.

Here's the dilemma. I can't kill them. I mean, they were all right there, I coulda whooped a can of Lysol on their butts- but I didnt'. I... well... I can't. I read when I was a kid that ants are fairies in disguise, or reincarnated fairies or something... enough that the guilt is immense when it comes to ants.

What the HELL do I do??? I need cabinet space! I am a cook for goddess sakes! I have flour, and honey! And cheezits! And it even says on there GET YOUR OWN BOX!!! That means YOU little red buggers!

I have heard cinnamon... garlic... cayenne... but applied how? Do they die, or just give up in defeat? Or grow a taste for spicy foods then? Ugh. I dunno. But I do know I am going to find another home for the next box of crackers until I learn a way to cope.

trance dancing

2009-11-15T23:26:00.000-05:00

Thu, July 27, 2006
It is unlike anything else to create movement out of sound. I stand before the fire, feeling the drums deep in my joints, driving my muscles to move. I link the drums to my heart, and begin to move so that there is no separation between the skin being struck and the skin on my hips in the air. If I go deep enough, far enough... move as the drummer moves, using intuition to feel when s/he would strike next, to create a perfect meld between sound and movement. I will stay there, hours and hours on end without tiring- for this is directly connected to the spiritual force that drives me- and I dance until I am parched with thirst and must force myself to stop. Not from exhaustion, never that.... dancing until there is no one else there at all, the world has disappeared, there is only the fire, the movement and the music.

This connection is especially exhilirating when an innovative drummer begins who can step outside the beat and take me where I need to go, to places I could not expect. This is the true challenge, this is what makes my heart pound and blood race. I focus on this drum, this person driving me on and on and I calm my inner voices, still my mind and create that space where there is only the drum, only the movement; where is the beat going, where is the hand going... what a beautiful and spiritual place to be, to really hear the drum, to really listen, deep down into the heart and the hips. Rooted yet flying, grounded and free.

At this year's Starwood, I connected more deeply than ever before to my dancing. I feel as if I have fully embraced the beauty and power that has always lain inside me, and I feel incredibly nourished and whole for it. Some people leave Starwood feeling bereft and lost, as if they can only obtain the feelings that occur while they are in that undoubtedly magical place; I, however, carry this magic inside and am deeply satisfied to have gotten to know this part of myself so well.
This year's Starwood was for me. To push myself and find those parts of my magic that I knew were lying so close to the surface... and it feels like I met some old, old friends and took them home with me to stay. There was certainly some amazing music happening at Starwood this year, and some amazing connections at least for me to the music. I am incredibly grateful to all the people who were a part of this growth; Starwood would not exist if it were not for the graceful souls who migrate there year after year.

I danced from the heart. I danced my heart out, as they say, and I mean that truly. I have never felt so whole and so at peace with myself as I have since then; it has not faded, nor will it, for I feel it to be something that is a part of me, something I have discovered and will nourish- the deep love of the dance, in more than just for dancing. In dancing for love, love of self, love of community, love of the spirit that drives us all together.

blessed be...

Court, take 15

2009-11-15T23:25:00.002-05:00

Tue, May 30, 2006
GUILTY!!!!

Everyone, it's OVER!
After 2 years...
15 court dates...
5 defense lawyers...
3 judges...
2 DAs...
and one courthouse change...

He finally pled guilty. It's official, we are THE most insane witness/victims they've ever seen, because we persevered all this time. He realized we weren't going away... like a BAD RASH... and so he gave up. Just simply gave up. I told the judge my story, trembling with rage and fear, in my 'I'm a serious yet adorable vet student' outfit... the judge was so completely apologetic and sympathetic (I mean I have studied for over 10 exams in that stinking place, for jeebus sakes!). Greg also stood and told his truth and the judge was completely all "so sorry, sir, so sorry..." and commended us for our decency and good citizenship...

Ha!

Justice does have it's day, even if you have to chase it down and point fingers at it and throw a tantrum and threaten a lot.
hee hee

pop quiz

2009-11-15T23:25:00.001-05:00

May 22, 2006
Here's a little pop quiz question for you:

Your patient, a stressed out veterinary student, has the following ailments: strained neck (too much leaning over books), wound too tight (14 hour study days, without speaking to anyone but cats- never good), and no work to do for the evening.
Which of the following would you prescribe?
A. Absolut Kurrant with Soda (and a lime)
B. bombay Sapphire Gin and Tonic
C. Wine (white or red, inconsequential in this case)
D. Girlie drink (likely chocolatey)
C. Boring old juice

10 points

hee hee!
One more to go, and it's an easy one (basics of surgery) compared to the others that have passed... I'm taking the night off, and getting a buzz on- I have had nothing more than caffiene in two months~ hahahhaha! Just me and the cats and a bottle of Absolute... Awww, yeah. Mon,

screaming out of my skin

2009-11-15T23:23:00.000-05:00

Thu, May 18, 2006
here's a whirling dervish going on inside my head
inside I glimmer like the sun that has finally come to dry out the flowers...
the dancer in these bones is begging for release
to feel the purity of the spring air
to feel the giddiness of naked skin in the velvet of night
but yet these ropes that bind me
I cannot see them, cannot cut them
they are my own mind
my push to get through
get beyond the exhaustion that is taking me
to the point beyond reason
it does no good to cry
or scream
but that is exactly what I long to do
just so I can remember that I still feel
something other than the calmness
that gets me through this challange...

that's what I feel like right now, sitting in this chair... I have been spending 12 to 13 hours a day in this chair, stretching my head to fit all the information in. I feel giddy, excited, pissed, depressed, tired and crazy all at the same time... maybe I ought to drink less tea. Hahaha. No, really; it's just vet school. almost there. two more exams- one on Monday (a big one) and then a not so big one thursday, and then I will officially be 1/2 a doctor!!! I will be a third year, and merely inches away from clinics.
Meanwhile... I'm going to go crazy now, I'll be back later.

devastating dimple

2009-11-15T23:22:00.000-05:00

Mon, May 15, 2006
So Alyssum and I went out in the torrential downpour to a bead, gem and jewelry show in Marborough on Sunday. I got us into the wholesale room with actual papers and not just charm... hey, I use the regular way when I can!
Anyways, we were walking around and she spotted an amazing dichroic glass ring, wow! What sheen and shine! And advertisements all over the booth that said 50% off. Perfect!
The man selling the jewelry at the booth was a short, round, cute young Indian. She brought the ring up to him, and we were both all grins- ear to ear- we were having so much fun. Until he quoted the full price.
"But this is 50% off, the sign says so"
"Not for one piece! That is for wholesale!" (even though it didn't say that specifically...)
Ahem.
So, I said,
"How about for a smile?"
and dimpled him.
(see picture above... not my most flattering hairday, but you get the idea)

He paused... so I then said:

"It's ok, we just wanted to flirt with you anyway."

He folded right then and there, and gave it to Alyssum for a sweet price, saying-
"Well if you wanted to flirt, you should have come yesterday, we could have hung out!"
to which I replied...
"Oh, I couldn't! It was raining!"

hee hee!

Essence of Worcester...

2009-11-15T23:20:00.000-05:00

or, how a 5 star bellydancer lost a dance competition to white trash...
Sat, May 13, 2006
Last night after open mic, a bunch of us talented gals went to Irish Times' club called "Rehab" to compete in their SO CALLED dance competition.
We got there kind of early (10:30) and had most of the floor to ourselves; decked out in mad freak gear- bellydance, firedance costumes... heh heh, they've never seen anything like that!
So they were offering $100 bucks if you won, plus you would be entered into the 'finals' where you could win RedSox tix, with limo and some cash... whatever.
We (Alyssum, Danee- a gymnast-, and I) decided to enter- why not? What the hell?
I felt so sure that Alyssum would just blow them away, win hands down, I felt bad for those poor skanky Worcester girls in their overtight club clothes, grinding in high heels... awww, they'll never know what hit 'em!

So the 'competition' begins. The "JUDGES" were 5 guys who were hanging out drinking at the bar (whatever...). They girls were called up one by one, each doing those ass-in-your-face bump and grind shite I find so funny.
Alyssum was called, and I was zagariting my head off as she wowed 'em with her lovely isolations and snappy hips... wow! Those poor girls don't stand a chance!
Then I went, doing my usual Arabic to some slutty Shakira song or another...
And then Danee went, blowing them all away with a backflip and some other crazy acrobatics... whooooeeee! The judges were freaking out!
So Danee said to one of the judges, "You liked that?"
It was all "Hell yeah girl, we never seen nothing like that!"
The MC was freaking out, telling us he'd never seen that in all his years of the contest...
So you'd think, with that reaction, that we'd win?
Nah.
Now, some of these girls could dance, in thier own way- just so you know I was looking, and not being a complete bellydance snob. Some of them were doing what they were doing (whatever it was- hip hop stripper?) and they were doing it well, with energy and style.
Then the "finalists" were called up.
I almost choked I was laughing so hard. They did not call up the ones I had appreciated. Nope! They called up one girl who we thought was ok, with the tightest pants I have ever seen (and I wear tight pants); one girl with an irridescent top who did an impressive stick your butt out stripper move where she went to the ground, wheee! and then the one that we laughed at the most- a girl in jeans and a white wife beater, who nonchalantly slumped up onto the stage and did- well, nothing.
Nothing. Not a thing. She kinda moved around a little, nothing with any energy. The thing to note here though was she was kind of underfed, small and short, stringy hair, and looked grumpy. Alyssum noted, "Awww, poor girl! She can't dance at all!"

SHE WON.

Yessir, apparently dance talent has nothing to do with a DANCE CONTEST in Worcester. But hey, I grew up here, did I really expect that it did? Nope. Not even a little bit.
I mean, I was at least expecting one of the pseudo strippers to win, I mean, it's a dance contest, come on!
But, no.

It's all about fuckability. This girl looked like she was so depressed or stoned that she would go home with anyone, and if you could have seen the judges it would have made perfect sense... a bunch of slumpy joe-schmoes, not worth a handful of the freaks I know and love. They would not look us in the eyes as we danced (boy were they uncomfortable with the bellydance eye contact!!! Hahhahahahahah!) So they voted for the one who'd be the most likely to take one of THEM to the RedSox game and fuck their brains out in the limo on the way there.

So... that was how an amazing and accomplished bellydancer lost a dance contest to a skinny white trash girl... something I would not have believed if it was anywhere other than Worcester. Oh, ok, fine; Springfield... Holyoke... Dorcester... whatever...

Day in Court, take 15

2009-11-15T23:18:00.002-05:00

Wed, May 10, 2006
...or, why I attacked a 280 lb black man on the T.

Some of you may know that Finn and I were attacked 2 years ago on the T in June, on our way to a Martini Soiree on a Newbury st. rooftop. The details are rough... a fight, an concussed man I had to keep concious... blood... wine...and glass...

Well, we have been in and out of court for this for 2 years now, in the most ridiculous perversion of the justice system that I have ever seen. The thug that attacked us has manipulated the whole thing to his advantage; not showing up, firing lawyer after lawyer, saying he wasn't ready for trial, his lawyer(s) claiming not ready for trial/defendent not cooperating... you name it. For 15 frickin court dates.

Well he has finally painted himself into a corner. (hehhahehahdhhhahhahsss!! my maniacal laughter)

Monday was a circus. He has this latina lawyer who was bugging out, screaming at everyone (including the judge), begging to be taken off the case... harassing Greg for his statement (which she had recieved and lost).
I had been up all night in the hospital with a sick foal, and had an exam on Tuesday morning, so I calmly looked my lawyer in the eye and said; I want you to tell the judge that this ends today or I am going to throw a temper tantrum- I have had enough.

So long story short, we finally got to sit in front of a judge. The thug is a psychopath, seriously folks... he was affecting a stutter then forgetting to keep it going, inventing children and forgetting the ages he gave, interrupting the judge, and (here's the best part!)
HE CLAIMS THAT WE ATTACKED HIM.
(I don't know about you, but I like to attack 280 lb drunk black men on trains all the time... I know, I know, it's a bad habit, I have to stop)
I wanted to laugh but of course, I have my game face on...
so the judge gives him a chance to plead guilty and get out of jail in 6 months... but he chooses to have a jury trial, because,
"Ya' honah, I is innocent!"
yeah, right! Like I don't have better things to do then go to court 15 FUCKING TIMES!!!

So he tried to fire this lawyer, and the judge said- "We are not a lawyer vending machine! You either keep this one or represent yourself!"

so... HE'S GOING TO REP HIMSELF!!!
I feel like the sun was shining on my face; like all the gods smiled at once... what a perfect gift after 2 years of aggravation, fear and aggression. Whoopeee!!! He's such an idiot, it's going to be a circus! Yes, yes, ysssss!!!

So if you want to be entertained, feel free to accompany us on the morning of May 30 to see the performance of the year. It ought to be a good time. Our lawyer is going to ask for 7 years... when he could have had 6 months! Ha!

Incus the Musical

2009-11-15T23:18:00.001-05:00

Sun, May 7, 2006
Just to give all of you a fun loving spin on Incus' recent adventures... here is what happened at the beltaine festival, from the perspective of my warped little mind.

**
The van rolls through the night, loaded with instruments and crazy musicians... (we need to paint that van a la Scooby Doo) going about 20, late, frustrated, somewhat lost... but then, a magician is never late, but precisely on time.
so Incus arrives in the middle of a beautiful forest filled with pagans and hippies, lovely souls meeting to celebrate Beltaine under the sweet spring moon. The air is delicious. People are decorated with flowers. No one is paying much attention to anything in particular, including the fact that people are hauling an entire drum kit, 2 huge cellos, a gigantic sacred drum and an entire crew of musicians up to the tiniest fire circle you ever did see. So high were they on the sweet spring air, the tender breeze promising warmth and fecundity and the nude delicious pleasure of summer that they did not notice at all that an entire band set up right in their midst.
But these guys, these mellow and sensitive folks of Incus, hey- they know all about making moods and cultivating energy... they just roll right along with it.
So they take a deep breath and put sticks to drums, fingers to bows and accordians, and

the chanting begins.

What? Wait- the Incus folks think, musicians and fans alike- did no one notice an entire band just set up? We're not talking a guitar and some ragged hippie with a jimbe... But hey, they're channeling the goddess. It's all good. So Incus, innovative creators that they are, roll with it and play right along with the chant. It's Incus Organic. It's divine, it's the goddess, we're all packed in so tight to the fire we can't tell where the band ends and the folks begin.

Slowly the crowd winds down the chant and Incus respectfully takes a deep breath to let the energy change... a little twinkle of a smile on the accordinanists' lips, and they begin... the crowd then learns hey! There's an entire band back there! You could feel it, the recognition seeping in, the slow realization and then intense pleasure as the soak up this rare treat of being so close to a band as this that you feel as if you are part of it.
The crowd is dancing, appreciating the vibe, loving the music... so Incus winds down the first song, and the leader of the band begins to talk about the next song when suddenly...

...a little yogi, a most amazing and clever man, begins to cavort about the fire, grasping the flames in his hands and requests three minutes of the crowd's time. "This dog here, he comes up to me and I am thinking, I am a dog! I have always been a dog!"
?
And so begins something like "Sound of Music, India!" as a rounding edition of This World has Many Lands is belted out by the most energetic human being on the entire plot of land... an enthusiastic round, something between an irish drinking song and this land is your land... I wasn't sure if I should be reverent or my usual self which is to laugh at all things, so I chose to be myself.
"The hills are alive... with the sound of yogis"... while the entire circle looks on rather stunned; I watched all those faces, some of disbelief (WTF?), some of resigned pseudospirituality, some of entire and utter amusement... as this man cavorts about, scooping up fire with his hands, pointing, shouting, smiling and rather enjoying himself a bit of spotlight. Firelight. Whatever.

Meanwhile... Incus is searching for an in... to this musical adventure that seems to have unfolded. The spry little man slowly unwinds, relaxes, sinks to the ground and the band jumps on the opportunity to throw in another song. After all, why not? They drove all that way... in the dark... late...
They drive the gathering back into the sweet energy of fire and music. Everyone is dancing, swaying, back into the magic. The yogi is a transformed man, clapping and yelling:
"It makes you want to hug you!"
He hugs himself, he's beaming, he's completely psyched and in love with the music and the night.
He's pushing himself into poses and postures so close to the fire people are wondering if he's going in. He twists himself into a pretzel on the ground with his buttocks exposed... people watch, unsure; do I look on this and feel humbled by the yoga energy? Do I smile in beatific transformation? Do I pretend I don't think he's drunk and hide my laughter?

But then the perfect thing happens; Loki runs forth in the body of a clever drummer and paddles the yogi right on the behind. I of course have been waiting for some good Coyote energy, and there it is, that little sound of music man gets it... now here is the true test of a yogi: how does one respond to such an irreverent act, an act of God surely, under that fecund moon stinking of magic, next to a fire so hot it burns the belly deep deep inside?
He laughs. Of course. And I am feeling fine, fine.

I'd love to make a south park episode out of the entire scene; to me it was some of the funniest stuff I have seen in a long time. People look upon each other's creativity, music and spirituality with adoration and respect, as is a normal and correct thing to do... but every once in a while it's good to take everything askew, to look with complete irreverence and laugh, laugh at the whole thing-honor your Coyote medicine and let it all go.

This was written with the best of love and respect for all the members of Incus, in their joy and love for the art of sound and movement. Laugher keeps you young, and keeps you together.
much love to you all.
It makes you want to hug you!

Wild dream... Native horsepeople

2009-11-15T23:14:00.000-05:00

May 3, 2006
I woke this morning from an intense dream. My dreams are often vivid... colors, smells, sounds, textures; I walk in other worlds, no doubt.
So here it is:

I was moving into an apartment/motel (extended stay type place) building for a short stay. It was of 60's design, metal railings, groovy carpets and crazy "modern" chandeliers in the hallways- think rusts, orange, avocado greens. Yeah baby. I was with several people I know well, including Greg. We all were burdened with big bags as if we were travelling for a long time, and intended to stay for a while.

While heading up to the room with more bags, I decided to take the circuitous route. The place was long and wide, only 3 stories, and an open plan (with all those metal railings you could see alot). I began to see people dressed in ancient nomadic garb leading their rough, small ponies about. They were all over the hotel, mostly the first and second floor; they were real, in fact they felt more real than the patrons in their jeans. I was incredibly drawn to them.
I saw them leading the horses into rooms; into the fields behind the motel. I must have set my bags down somewhere because I was suddenly free to follow. There was one rider and horse in particular that caught my eye; it was a woman, she was dressed in tan doe skins and had a flat drum strapped to her back. Her horse was a beautiful little dun, and was loaded down with baggage. They went into a room and unloaded; I saw them head towards the gift shop after that. The horse had a pronounced limp in the rear; I wanted to offer my myotherpy services to her, even free, just to be near them and discover who they were. They went into the gift shop so I followed. They must have left by a back door; they were not in the shop when I entered. The shopkeeper was a round American woman, dressed in jeans with a t-shirt on- a black one with a wolf and lightening bolts (you have seen those, you know what I mean). She had short dark curly hair. I said, "Who are all these people, and what in the world are they doing here?" I could see the woman and the little dun in the field behind the motel, they had left by a back door. The woman said, "they were displaced, and they are supposed to be here temporarily; it's awkward for them, and for us..." We were sitting on the floor, and I was watching out the window. I could see all sorts of people and these amazing horses. There was another, a black one, that was three legged lame- holding up her right foreleg. I said, "Is anyone even tending to these horses? Some are wounded! I need to help" and I felt deep emotions, tears in my eyes; but as she turned to see what horse I was talking about, the black had become a woman with long silky black hair, very Native looking, holding her arm awkwardly and laughing with the boy that had been leading her when she was a horse. I was stunned; but I could see flickering in her form the horse she was.
To the left there was a hill. It had looked like a graveyard, with a little snow on it, I overlooked it- barely saw it- before. As I watched, the woman with the dun were riding towards the graves. The little dun had no baggage on it now, and the woman rode her bareback, still with the drum on her back; they were a blend of tans, all the same and natural- they fit together. The woman rode the dun in a fury towards the graves. I exclaimed- "But see how she runs, and injured! Look at her hip, she's painful, but she's loyal- she will do this, despite her pain!" and the tears were choking my throat.
They plunged inbetween the graves, and I saw that the graves were printed on paper, and the white was not snow but paper- and the churning hooves tore up the illusion and revealed what lay beneath. I held my sobs- for beneath were horses, hundreds of them, only their heads above ground and a curious path made of horseshoes to the right of them. As she darted around, ripping the fake graves, the horses in the ground began to stir. They were of all colors horses come in. I watched as nostrils began to move, ears twitched, and I was fully crying now, in that shop- I could not tell if they were trapped, buried alive or if they were waking, what was going on. I only knew that the drive in me to go and help was strong, and that I needed to know them, that woman, and that dun. It was stunning.

I think I woke then, my throat tight, choked... I have many dreams of horses and native americans, and they are always vivid. This one burns in my mind, and I had to share. I have written it, and now the haunting can fade a little so I can move through the day in peace... Wed,

Police Horses

2009-11-15T23:13:00.000-05:00

Wed, April 26, 2006
One of the perks of being a vet student is getting to play with all the cool animals. Three months ago I got to play with a baby aardvark; I can have my fill of puppies, kitties and llamas anytime I need a fuzz fix.
But today, I got to go and help vaccinate the MA state police horses before their long summer season of work. Two weeks ago we got to draw blood for EEE and the Coggins test; two months ago I got to learn dentistry on them as well; they get a cheap rate, and we get a whole barn to practice on!
They are all bays, and all geldings except for the one mare (who was having none of their nonsense today, can't blame her). There's always a pair of crusty old mounties there with them, and the convicts from Walpole clean the stalls and the barn in the morning- we aren't allowed to talk to them... go to jail, no girls, sorry!
It was fun, and definitely a sense of accomplishment. Nice study break anyways, getting outside, burying your hands in horse hair; I came away with dirty hands, smelling of horse with a big huge smile on my face. Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh.

ancient magic dwindles

2009-11-15T23:12:00.000-05:00

Sat, April 15, 2006
Please watch this amazing video. It is about the felling of ancient sacred oaks in England where two wild island ponies ran right up to where they were felling the trees and ran about causing chaos. The land cries out for its desecration... I cried too... and you may as well.

www.supershorts.org.uk/view.html

aaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggggghhhhhh!

2009-11-15T23:08:00.001-05:00

Sun, April 9, 2006
I am trying so hard, so very hard, to bend my will and study like it's all I want to do. I shouldn't bitch, I know, I'm priveleged to be in vet school and lucky to be getting this education... that's the stuff they said in the packets I got when I was accepted, it seems... but hey folks, it sucks. It really and truly does. I am exhausted and can't stop. I try to sqeeze in some form of pleasure into my life here and there, like seeing you lovely people, or going to the gym, cooking when I can... all these things bring profound guilt because it means I am not studying every single second. I am not an A student, and I have stopped striving for A's because it was making me so depressed; it would be an inhuman effort on my part to get there. I don't actually think it's possible. No, it's not one of those self depricating things; I really mean it. It is an insane amount of information we are trying to swallow, and Tufts is the most curriculum heavy of all the schools (the others are a little shocked at what we have to do!) I do love it for all the reasons I applied, like the fact that it is a humane based school heavy in ethics and so forth... and an institution that prides itself on having the most over achievers possible. But folks! I sometimes feel it is draining away who I am. It takes me a while to relax, and sometimes I realize that I forget who I am and how funny I can be. I don't like feeling I am losing my Self.
The hardest part is that it is nearly impossible to maintain a support group because I am simply not available. And this is the heaviest emotional and mental burden I have ever experienced; most of the time I feel I am pretty nearly alone in it, by design. It's not that anyone who loves me wouldn't jump at the chance to be supportive... but it's a matter of, when?
So I am profoundly frustrated, tired, burnt out, and I have the better part of two months left to the semester. I am so tired! So tired that I feel like I don't care now! I have an exam tomorrow, and have been beating myself all day with the test materials, trying so hard to chain myself to it and make it happen; my resolve has been crumbling, no focus...
Well enough bitching... this is why I don't often answer the 'how are you?' question; it's too much. Way too much. And most people can't understand (and I am not saying that meanly!) because they just can't...
It's like being thrown in a lake and being told that the only way to survive is not to swim, but to drink the whole thing...
ugh.
Tue, April 11, 2006
Thank you everyone for all your support. It isn't often that I reach out and bleed like that... but it's very comforting knowing that when I had to do it, you were all there to mop up the goo. Instead of telling me to suck up and deal, or shut the fuck up or whatever... you people are amazing, awesome... what can I say? My life is better and better all the time.

humble poi. pie. whatever.

2009-11-15T23:07:00.000-05:00

Sun, March 26, 2006
I went to KY over spring break... met some cool poi chicks.. and was inspired to make some fuzzy friendly practice poi out of fun fur. You can hit yourself with them, and it doesn't hurt!! It really frees me up to try crazy new stuff.
So I made me some funky fuzzy poi, hot orange fur with pink fur tips. I LOVE them. I heart my new poi.

I took these bad boys to the gym, usual place usual time, work out in the aerobics room in front of the mirror, get my technique tight and so on. So every once in a while I share the room with someone else, doing yoga or pushups or what have you.

So there was this hot young guy, doing some pretty intense pushups n stuff.
And I was like, yeah look at me, I'm all badass with my funky hot poi, yeah, that's right I'm the fire mamma watch me go... feeling all hot and confident, making those mofos work!
Yeah so I'm in the middle of my little spazz routine when one of those little fuckers breaks its loop and goes flying off the chain.
WTF!!!
I had to eat me some humble pie... what a goober... I demurely picked up my crazy little orange fuzz ball and quickly exited said aerobics room... yikes. That'll teach me. Happens every time, man! You think your hot and suddenly the sidewalk comes up and smacks you in the ass.
freak.

goddamn jar

2009-11-15T23:06:00.000-05:00

Sat, June 18, 2005
So I came home from work really really hungry. Mmmm, I know, I will have some of those nice fresh raviolies I got at the supermarket. There was a nice fresh jar of sauce, yet unopened, in the fridge (I have very little cabinet space...)
I have the raviolies boiling on the stove, and pull out the jar.
My usual method is to spank the bottom of the jar, hard, as that helps break the seal; then it should open right up.
right.
I fought with that damn jar for 10 minutes! I grunted and sweated, I tried steaming it, I tried banging it on the counter, I tried everything. I was red faced and frustrated when I heard a lawn mower next door.
Hmmm...
I look out and yes, it was a man.
And aren't men so good at jars, after all?
It is humiliation for me, though; here I am, wrangling horses everyday for a living, and I can't open a frickin jar of sauce?
So I march out there, waving this jar at him. He looked like he thought I was gonna hit him with it. But he galliantly shut off the mower and I said, Help me! I have been arguing with this jar for 10 minutes and I can't get it open!!!
Now mind you; I was wearing my long grey wiggle skirt, a tight black tank top, my hair was in disarray and I was barefoot. He decided it was funny, laughed, took the jar and he too began to struggle with it.
I felt much better...
He got it open after a minute or two of grunting.
Ahhh, it's good to be a woman.

A place where stories may rest

2009-11-15T23:00:00.002-05:00

A couple of years ago, I began running in the forest. As I ran, alone, through the trees, the stories were born. One by one they blossomed in my mind, begging to be remembered and told. When I would return home, sweating and red, I would sit immediately at the computer and spill from my mind the story that emerged from the Wood. They all went into a blog in Tribe, a community site which has been failing... and so I will peel each of them from the electronic pages of that site and republish them here, so that they will not be lost. They reach back further beyond just stories born by wild dashes in the Wood, into great memories; starting in 2004 or 2005. I will republish them here and travel through them once more.

One crazy summer

2006-08-12T16:47:00.000-04:00

So is it here I will relate to my Self and the world what has been going on? I swear since I have recieved my Reiki II attunement, the world has gone mad. Or I have. I have done so much work that my mind begs for rest, and yet, now that I have it I am screaming inside from boredom- unable to even settle down into a project to give myself the satisfaction of completing something. Having just moved and unpacked my life yet again, I am full of accomplishment... what I need is rest, but I am unable to contemplate how to do that.

What then, shall I relate? The craziness of the summer is all wrapped up in the drama I have created around myself. On purpose. Because. I live, live large and fully, with the water all the way on and high... I cannot do it half way, I have to go full bore. Runs in the family.

So I began with one crush. Then it went to two, in a short period of time; harmlessly enough I watered and fertilized each one, seeing that it was returned in kind. Why not? Why not give myself options, see where things go, what may develop? After all I used to be the kind of girl who would jump at the nearest person who showed interest. Now I have decided I want to be the kind of woman who critically appraises the options and goes for the best fit. Makes sense, really, when you look at it... makes sense to me anyway.

And so they were nurtured, each in his own special way. I like the attention, no question; and hid nothing from each, leaving it right in the open that I was playing and nothing more. Who needs to end up with tangles and lies and hurts? Not me! This means that they were willing and fine with the idea.

As the summer rolled along, I began to see more and more of the personalities come out. I was pleased to be able to be the acquaintance of the men I chose; I picked good ones this time, bold, happy, funny, robust and clever; generous and kind. Yay!

Then I got played. I am not 100% shocked or unhappy since I knew going in that this one was a player; but the silvered words snared me anyhow. I was led to believe something that was not true, and I never garnered enough steam in the anger to make a difference in the time I had after that... but he blew away what trust I had built, and though he remains as a fun time and a toy, I know that he will never be anything more than that. He has a long way to go before he will ever be a trustworthy partner, I can see that and it's a shame... because I know he's thinking if there was ever anyone he'd try it with it'd be me. No such luck, sorry... I know a Player when I see one, and I was willing once to believe in reform but that day has passed.

As for the other, he is far more trustworthy and in fact would be incredibly steadfast and loyal... but I remain wary for I see looming on his horizon a lot of upheaval and uncertainty. If there is anything at this juncture that will make me run, that's it. I can't have any turmoil in my life right now. I just let go of a relationship with so much angst, turmoil and sadness that I can taste the murky waters in the back of my throat if I linger too long on the thought... I have had enough sadness in the past year to last me for a lifetime. I have had enough. This person, this gentle and sweet man, is on the brink of major work and discovery; unfortunately it all too much reminds me of my role as the Queen of Chaos and sorry, the Queen has left the country. And so he has become a Friend, and my heart is indeed torn where he is concerned because he is so sweet and smart and straightforward. I have made my choice and told it to him, hurt him because I am unwilling to explore love with him; if we can remain friends I know I will be glad, for he is a sweet and wonderful presence in my life.

Then the summer was at it's peak, right at the Solstice in fact when I met him. The Jolly one. I was strolling along with the Player at my side, walking among brightly colored tents and pennants through the scented air when we came to the pavillion we sought. There were many people lounging about in its shade, but my eye was immediately and fully drawn to only one person, who stood out energetically in a way I cannot describe. He was dressed in a black T shirt, wearing sunglasses, his long curly dark hair down around his shoulders, looking like trouble in a carefree summer afternoon... I went straight to him, took his hand and said, "There you are." What else was there to do? No one else even existed at that moment.

That evening I spied him in leather pants with no shirt but grew too shy to even talk to him; it happens to me sometimes. The next morning I meandered about with my parasol against the strong sun and came upon him working about the pavillion, again in his T shirt, with his hair tied back; I stood and chatted as he put torches about the grounds, watching his muscles move as surreptitiously as I could. I leaned in closer to shade him with the parasol and listen to his words- oh and the drawl... it didn't matter what he said... but the next thing I knew, I had a dark kiss on my lips. I was struck silent.

As the week went on the Jolly one and I got to know each other better, and events became clouded from one or another strange experience; but I hold these strong first moments in clarity for the times to come. I say this because the connection was immediate and electric; and the connections thereafter were so strong that I shied away as a horse from a shadow, letting my fear dictate what I thought with what came next. Despite the fear and resignation I come back to those moments because they are so rare; and because again despite the fear and resignation I have not been able to get him from my mind, his laugh and his smile and his voice.

One by one the others have fallen away. I have delivered the news to the Friend, that it cannot be. I have caused him hurt and torn my own heart in the process. The Player has yet to be told what will and will not be; he is content to believe that we are dating, that I can be a convenient relief for his body when he wills it and not before- I have not been treated to such casual disregard of my own needs in a long time, and I was somehow willing to put up with it until recently... hey I am getting too old for Players... see you when you feel like it? Hmmm. That works for a while. Not for long.
And now I am anticipating a visit from the Jolly one and waiting to see what will bloom. I try and have no expectations; we could end up not liking each other very much, couldn't we? But is that ever the result from such attraction? I am often easily annoyed, as I am with the Friend; I will try and stay open but I am what I am. I am ready for something good...

Queen of Chaos

2006-06-08T10:37:00.000-04:00

Change. Open. Expand...

That is what happens if you hang around with me. I can say all this with assurity simply because it has happened so many times with so many people that I can't ignore it or deny it... basically, I hang out with people, their minds are opened, they morph... change...My friends used to call me the Queen of Chaos, because it seemed to follow me around like an eddy or wake of a boat. In my path would not be destruction, but change (which can look like destruction to some I suppose). I can't help it. This may sound like a bunch of new agey weird stuff, but I have an effect on people that changes them. I don't know how to explain it without coming off as strange or like I have a big ego or something. I want to try. I need to express it so I can better understand it.

I am a doorway. A conduit...

So many of my relationships with men have been with people that were closed down and needed to be opened. This used to cause me a lot of pain because I didn't understand what was going on- why is it every time I get together with a guy, he blasts open, gets addicted to me, and I feel unfulfilled because I have nothing to learn? It distresses me because it means I attract people who need a doorway opened for them; and so often it will leave me in an awkward position because that is not a balanced relationship (because unfortunately, it's so strong it's often mistaken for love or a love relationship- in which the two people are not equal).

I have been stalked 5 times, and dealt with intense emotional attachments that I could not return... all the while thinking, why? I'm just me, I'm not a supermodel or intensely brilliant or anything... why does this happen? What the hell is going on?

A few nights ago it hit me like a ton of bricks. Solid and all of a sudden. Even the responsibility of what I have been unknowingly doing hit me all at once. I touch people- mentally or physically, doesn't matter- and they respond in a deeper way. Some people become frightened and find me too intense (something that also used to cause me a great amount of pain!) and then run away. Others find it exhilerating, and want to have it, be it, own it; that is something that has never settled well with me.

I am a healer, and people are attracted to me for exactly that; for my energy, my vitality, my wholeness and happiness. I have dated a lot of very very sad people, deeply sad, because they feel something is missing from their lives; what they don't realize is that it wasn't me they were missing, but themselves... their own SELF... and I put them there, in touch with it, and they mistakenly think that it was me all along. I heal without even noticing I do it. It is that strong. But it leaves me so sad too, because I feel like I cannot attract the sort of person that is not sad and not 'needing' me. I felt pretty desolate- as in, aren't there any other people like me out there, who know how to recognize their own sadness and patterns and heal themselves? Why do I keep dating sad people who I fall out of love with as they fall deeper for me, because I cannot sustain enough happiness and energy for two?

Now, I don't mind healing a person who needs it. Healing is a great responsibility, and to think that I have done it without knowing- in other words, without someone's permission- countless times, eek! That is not good. However, f you think about the universe and the spirit and soul of people though, you can say that those people searched for it and needed it and who am I to deny them? And who is to say what I have been getting out of it- why am I attracting them to me? There is that pattern...

It leaves me so lonely, being able to see inside a person and see the hurt and where it needs to go. I can feel what people are feeling- I am like a raw open nerve or a barometer. I can show someone the way and show them their own light and beauty. All without effort at all. This is where I fear seeming like I am one big ego- I don' t mean to come off sounding like I am high and mighty and evolved, because whoa! I am not. I have a lot of growing to do still, and forever; and I realize it. I know where my faults are. However I have seen so many times the place it puts me, when I have been in a love relationship that was a hidden conduit for healing. So many times I have been hurt and drained from these kinds of connections. It is not good for me. I am often left feeling that the person is taking and not giving back, or so sad that they cannot see what I need too.

The saying goes, "healer, heal thyself" and indeed I try. Sometimes though, I would like the cool hand on my forehead; the soothing words that show the soul some light. This solace I can give to myself, and I can seek in some special friends I have; however I am loathe to burden them as well. I was very raw and open and painful the other day, partly from my Reiki II leaving me so incredibly open and jacked up- I have never felt such energy surges- and partly from the realization that being such a force can leave one very very alone. I have not been able to eloquently express what it is until now I think, because I did not know what it was that was causing people to become addicted to me and my energy until just recently. I did not even see the pattern until two years ago, after the blow up of a very tumultuous relationship that I still mourn because I finally met someone I could not heal and it opened my eyes to what I was doing inadvertently. That was my first step to removing myself from this path of destruction... it is not destructive to those that seek me, but it is ultimately destructive for me. And I cannot allow that to go on!

Someday I feel, I will find my equal. One who does not need to be healed, because he can do it on his own. One who recognizes the power in me and is not afraid, but sees familiarity and equality in it. I truly believe that people connect on deeper levels than what we can even see, and that when we enter into relationships our souls make an agreement as to what we will learn from one another; I am quite sure that I no longer need to learn what pain and suffering looks like in others who are too afraid to look inside and love what is there.

At first, a few days ago, when I came to the shocking realization of the truth of what it is I am, I lay there for hours with myself and a candle and tried to sort it out. I felt completely out of sorts and unhinged for a bit. Then I began to understand that I had healed part of myself that I did not want to recognize; I had denied forever that I have any sort of magic or such things, because I was afraid of being set apart and unable to connect with anyone- power is something that can leave a person very much alone. For this I denied for so long what I was doing.

Gradually as I lay there I began to calm and see that it does not mean I need to feel 'apart', but it does mean that I need to choose with care those that I let into my sphere, and how deep. There are plenty of people whose company I enjoy but instinctively know that they cannot come any deeper at the risk of my own mental safety... that's just how it is, to be sensitive. Even still I balk at this language because the common person, the normal American does not think about what it means to let people into their energy sphere; although it a way they do instinctually, if you look at how big the 'personal space' of the average person is.

Whew! This has been quite a brain stream, needing to come out for some time. These thoughts are not complete, I fear, nor eloquent in the way they will become when I am more comfortable with the idea... but I think the basics are thus:

I am a doorway, a conduit for change, chaos, growth and evolution.
I am a healer, and with each passing year, growing stronger and better at it.
I am a strong woman, and no longer afraid to be so.
I must be careful at whom I choose for love and partnership, for my own happiness and safety.
I must heal myself of the shock that I have pushed people into their own growth- without each of us knowing until it was done...

And so it is... is it truly good to be Queen?

Because I'm blonde, that's why!

2006-06-06T22:23:00.000-04:00

So in order to haul around parts of my project, we needed a vehicle. A large one. So we thought, well, I guess we could rent a van... you know, to do it all at once rather than haul around what we need in several trips... cuz see, I'm the kind of girl that likes to do things efficiently, like carry all the groceries in at once.

Well no one was being creative! They'd sigh... well, I guess we have to pay all that money... meanwhile I'm watching countless university vehicles driving by, vans, trucks, you name it! And I thought, I want one! Dammit, I pay enough money to go here, I wanna drive one for one day!

So once I set my mind to it, I stopped every vehicle that passed me to get some ideas.

I decided to start from the bottom. Talk to the guys that drive these things everyday. Anyways, who doesn't like a nice sweet smile from a blonde girl? And a little dimple or two never hurts... hee hee...
So I talk to one of the grounds guys, and he was very helpful, sending me to the top guy... calling in advance to warm him up, warning him that a very nice girl needed his help...

Off I went to the office, to ask for what I needed. I think this is what it comes down to... lots of people just don't ask. That's all you gotta do sometimes, ask! And that's what I did!

Long story short... they not only granted me a truck for a day, but decided they had better wash and wax it too, you know, good PR... what could be better for the face of the university than a couple of healthy cute girls piling out of the truck on good research business, doing good for the community? Now you're thinking... it all depends on the spin, really.

It's so good to be blonde.

Cape Cod Potato Chips

2006-06-06T22:19:00.000-04:00

I can't buy them anymore. I can't. Because when I do I will eat the entire bag. They are made of something that makes my brain turn off until I finish the whole thing. That wouldn't be a big deal except that they make my mouth totally raw... like the flesh peeling off the inside of my cheek... it's sick and I can't help it. Can't help it at all.
And I will go to the store and buy another bag...

BECAUSE DAMMIT, THEY ARE SOOOOO TASTY!!!

I mean, I like other foods too, but not to this degree it seems. Mmmmmm. Sea salt chips. Mmmm... raw mouth... mmmmm....

Eeyore

2006-05-24T08:53:00.000-04:00

I will be all the happier to escape, in a couple week's time, the ever present cloud that is Eeyore... living with him is draining me and I haven't much left to drain. I always feel that I have done something wrong, or hurtful somehow. Intellectually I know that is not the case, this person is simply enduring a lot of pain due to other sources right now- and certainly the dissolving of our relationship, though mutual, hurts as well. Even if it is less than real because we still share space, a bed, and food...

The problem here is that I am extremely empathic, and something of an emotional barometer. I developed this as a kid to stay safe from a volitile and explosive man. What worked then to keep me from harm's way now hurts me as an adult, because I always assume that the bad feelings are my fault and so therefore I need to get out of the way. This happens less and less these days because I recognize it, but still- when you live with someone that radiates grey and nothing but grey, you begin to wonder- what is wrong here? When nothing you do to cheer that person up or make life tolerable are even noticed... ahh, but I am tired, so tired of this grey energy. I have a wish for what to expect in a partner in the future, and though I don't need constant manic cheer, I do wish for some balance! No more broken birdies, no more Eeyore!

everything changes...

2006-05-21T17:39:00.000-04:00

I am procrastinating again, looking at the sun outside my window- it was raining earlier, this weather is a lot like how I feel these days. I'm listening to Incus, "Just One Thing" right now and it is a good summary...

I know that in one week, my entire life will be changing at a rapid pace- this summer is going to be entirely unlike anything else... I am looking forward to it but at the same time, something inside me is deeply sad because my relationship is over and will never be the same. This is a welcome change, a necessary change, but I would be a food to believe it wouldn't hurt on some level. And so here it is. I know I don't want the relationship I am in but regardless of that, it is a certain comfort and safety- what you know vs what you don't.

Along with this, there is the huntress rising inside me- I feel it in my solar plexus, this deep energy that rises when I am disengaged from a steady relationship. Wild, it is! Wild! I enjoy it but it is not a steady thing... and this is a reason I seek relationships, no? For the stability of keeping that tigress hidden, caged in my mind while I progress in a domestic partnership. This huntress... she's something else, and it is not an energy I have ever explored in depth. For one, it frightens men and I hate that- there is a lot of power in this spirit of mine, and that is completely at odds with the gentleness I have longed to cultivate since I was a child.

Something I have come to understand however is that such energy as this cannot be denied, and there is nothing safe or correct about chaining it and using relationships as a method to control a fiery energy that has no right to be doused... what would happen if I allowed it to just be? If I were completely and truly myself, what would happen? This is a question that began last summer in a vision... my own complete denial of my beauty and power. Ha! At 30 I am learning that these things cannot be buried without serious consequences. The harder I have tried to deny that and bury this energy, the fiercer I get- angry, restless, scared- you name it, the negative side comes up, because anything that is improperly channeled leaks...

What is exciting is that the doorway to summer and freedom is so close. The summer begins with my initiation- I am going to the next level in Reiki, defining and refining my use of energy. This training taps the emotional facet of energy, and my master told me that you begin to shed old useless emotional patterns even before the new level... I have seen that, with shedding my old comfort zones (this relationship, those old fears, that ignorant point of view... on and on). I will be opened further, my channels burned clean, and then sent off into a summer of work and discovery- so close to the ocean I can touch her whenever I need to which if I have my way will be every single day.

This is something that brings me deep hope and excitement, right to my bones. I will not be able to deny the pull of what the summer brings no matter what I might like to believe. I will be working hard to clear my channels, accept what comes and relax into acceptance of the change that is coming- coming into my own power further, accepting my role as a healer and a leader in my own right... because these are all things I foolishly denied for a long time in order to ensure that others could remain in their own safety zones around me. It is not that I feel I need to begin to be inconsiderate- far from it... I am not entirely sure of what it means yet, but it is certain to be something of a surprise, even for me.

ahhhh!

burn me pure

2006-05-18T10:19:00.000-04:00

The harder I study, the fiercer the artist bangs inside my head to come out... suppressed, it dotes on ideas of melencholy and disaster... the compressed dancer in my bones is aching, longing, and all those things become misplaced if I begin to forget who I am and why I am here. Soon, so soon, the exams will end and I will let her out, my creative being- but right now I am feeling so much coiled energy it makes my teeth ache. I feel like a spring... and it is spring... there is so much sun outside my window, finally!!!

So much change is coming and I am powerless to organize it yet because I must study and stay sane all at once. So much change. Off I will go to research my summer away, in that seductive air of the cape- the ocean always calls to me, and I answer her when I am near; she brings to the surface my power and my desires. It is so much easier to bear now that I am older and recognize my potential. I am breathless waiting for when I can feel her airs, when I can bring fire to the shore and dance on the sand, when I can feel warmth on my skin, my feet in that cold Atlantic sea. There is so much more to this longing that I fear to let out- there is an element of danger to speak of it on line, but I will say it: I have wanted out of this relationship I am leaving for a long long time, but I stayed for fear that I was running away and now I am free, free to speak the truth... it was not what I wanted, and now I am cut loose. This too is something that makes me chafe, because I do not want to be swept away in the giddy joy that is this freedom. My heart waits for one who is worthy, and my body doesn't give a good goddam about that- so I must focus with all my will on my art and my dance and keep my body tired and busy so that the lure of the mysterious summer lover passes me by... like so much sand on a breeze.

Three more exams!!

2006-05-15T09:35:00.000-04:00

Almost done... almost done... I can't stand it anymore but I'm almost done... I have to remind myself that this is all worth it, that this suffering and madness will culminate in something beautiful and worthwhile: doing what I love, every single day.

Coyote Magic of Spring

2006-05-07T20:19:00.000-04:00

It happens every spring. As the sap moves through the trees, and the smell of earth becomes pervasive- deep and rich, intoxicating like incense... I feel my blood thinning with the heat and running through my veins, alive... awake... aware.
I feel I have been asleep since October, I feel I have been moving through molasses, feet in blocks of cement. Only now with the warmth of these days I am bright and alert, and here.
This is the time of Coyote magic. It is no mistake that April Fools is in the spring. Coyote is here, tickling my feet and my fancy, telling me to wake up and play. I feel fantastic and fine, young and free... and it is indeed time to play.
I am straining at the edges of this semester, waiting to shed more clothes and responsibilities and get down to the sweaty business of summer fun and flirting. There are people out there waiting to be known, flirted with, played with and discovered; this may sound at first sexual, but I merely wait for the joy of discovery as usual.
How often I have gotten in trouble, with this Coyote magic dancing on my lips! Riding in my dimple, in my teasing phrases, my sly glances to all people alike. If I like you, if I fancy you, if I think you are fun and fine and a good friend, I flirt... to me flirting is like exercise, something to be done regularly because it does a body good.
And so I honor Coyote, Coyote who has come to me in dreams, who dances in my soul every day, who pulses in my veins especially in spring, who brings to my lips these teases that all might laugh... and perhaps feel a little passion in their blood, because to live is to love is to feel is to find yourself longing for the pleasure of life in the fullest.
Coyote... coyote... come and play, I am ready... ready for the summer, you old flirt, ready to set your mischief alight into the summer air.

Oh, the single life for me...

2006-05-04T20:22:00.000-04:00

It's a little like trying on a shiny new dress. Or haircut. With all I've learned and how much I've grown in the past few years, because of the relationship I was in or despite it, it will be fun and interesting to try out the shiny new world as a single girl with all the knowledge and outlook I have now.
See, I haven't been truly single and free in a long time. The last time I was single, I wasn't sure I should be. I missed him. I wanted to reconcile. I wasn't ready. I felt adrift, lost, lonely...
Now- well, now is different. A new season, a new year, a new haircut, a new if hard outlook.
I have changed a lot, as you will do when forced down the gaping maw that is vet school; having gone down there in a relationship as thick as fine blackstrap molasses, it will be something different to navigate it as a woman singulare.
Don't I deserve to see the world through eyes unfettered by the trappings of a relationship? My whole post-pubescent life has been one of strings of relationships, with hardly a pause for breath in between. Never a pause, not since I was sniffed out by the boys when I was 12! I would take a month or two and think, there, I've been single. Next?

Now though, as a woman grown, I wonder what I am like when I am left to my own devices. I don't want to date. I want to be sugar free, man free and care free for a time. I think it will be good for me! Imagine! Not a man in sight, and the air is clear.

The tricky bit is of course that I still live with the man I was dating. Tis a friendly agreement, and one of necessity; but come fall, I will be cut loose, and diving into the most sticky semester yet... and there will be no time to entangle myself, and I will be glad! Vet school is no place for a relationship. I will try that and see what becomes of me.

No more sugar

2006-04-25T22:20:00.000-04:00

Once again I am sugar free. I was this way for a number of years, but vet school stress had me sailing off the wagon like a parched fool in the desert drawn to an oasis. All the free cookies and candy... the sweet siren song of sugar, from all sides... the lure of free cheap energy... the sweet wonder of chocolate goodies, holidays laced with sweet powder, legal crack, kiddie crack...

It's so bad for me, so so bad. Years ago I was hooked and was jumping buggered nuts from the hypoglycemia it caused. I was a complete psycho to my boyfriends, to every situation in life until I was terrified I was certifiably mad or something.
WTF is wrong with me? I'd ask. I just didn't know.
Years later I read Protein Power, which was somewhat on the right track.
I still hit the kiddie crack on a regular basis, but backed it up with protein, thinking I was curing the problem. The crashes still came but they were gentler almost, slower and more predictable; but I still had inexplicable crying jags, bad judgement and bad feelings.

The bad feelings were the worst by far. When you have an emotion and you can't identify where it comes from, you want to label it just so you know you aren't completely bonkers. So often my boyfriends would take the blame (bastards!) Only they didn't know, as I didn't, that sugar is a completely evil poison that knocks out clear thinking and reason. The Twinkie Defense? Maybe there is more to that than we reckoned.

So years after the Protein Power, someone gave me a copy of Sugar Blues. This book saved my sanity. I had already recognized I had hypoglycemia, but hadn't a clue how to handle it. Oh well I thought, I will just have to recognize my crashes and deal with it for the rest of my life. Hey everyone, if I get 'hangry' (hungry + angry) just feed me some cheese, ok? Crappy!!! BUT, I read this book and realized it was a bunch of bunk. The gigantic corporate conglomerate that is our food industry was poisoning me and you on a daily basis, without even our permission. See if I'm wrong! Go for a stroll in the supermarket, and look at the normal things you eat. Ketchup? sugar. Mayo? sugar. Cereal, yogurt, table salt, dried fruit, juice, soups, tomato sauce, you name it and it has sugar.

I did it though. However at the time, I was living in a place that had a lot of access to 'alternative' food stores. There were lots and lots of 'sugar alternatives' that you could experiment. This was fun and handy, but what I ended up doing was trading white crack for the more natural kind, and lots of it. It wasn't any better even if it had a lower glycemic response curve and more fiber! It's still sugar, and I was still hooked.

That was before I fell off the wagon these last 2 years. I got sick last month with all sorts of ailments; UTIs, several in a row (a big clue!), flu which I never ever get, muscle aches, short attention span, crankiness... and on and on... but I wasn't ready yet! Not yet, I thought, as I devoured Christmas, then Valentines, then Easter candy, bag after bag. Please let me stop, I thought, as I just ate this crap because I felt that my life in school was so unhappy that chocolate was the only thing that would take the edge off.

Classic addict behaviour. Classic.
Then, all the sickness happened. This is two weeks ago! I went for a hike on a particularly nice day after feeling crappy for some time. I was sick, depressed, exhausted and unhappy.
In the woods I focused myself and wrote in my journal. I started to feel better, reminding myself who I am and all that I strove for the first time I kicked it. That I used to be a person that wanted a simpler life, something more (I hate this word) wholesome. Meaning, less refined, less processed, less stressed and rushed. Getting back to sugar free, yoga, meditation and art as ways to let off steam.

So it has been about a week and a half. I feel a lot better. My focus is clear, my body feels better, my skin looks better and I look less bloaty somehow. It takes a while to get past the cravings and that sneaky voice in your head that says (only a little... sssss... just a tassssste...) but once you clear it you're good. It was so easy for years to sail past the brightly colored seductive isle in Walgreens, filled with chocolatey holiday cheer! It will be once again, and I am nearly free.

This time I will not go heavy on 'alternative sugars' which still jack up the blood sugar. I will instead use more Stevia (goddamn government and Sugar industry keeping it from being a legit sweetener!!! more on that later). I am concious of eating whole grains, lots of veggies, less dairy and more whole foods in general.
I hope someday our society wakes up and realizes that they are being poisoned. It is in everything. It can't go on! It makes people so sick, and our society has to pay and pay for the resultant diseases... diabetes, obesity (why is everyone so surprised we have this problem? And that people can't control it? I'm not surprised) and so on. Even dementia, social issues, ADD! ADHD is sugar addiction out of control, I should know!
Can that shit, live healthy and long... fight the man! No more sugar!

Donating my hair!

2006-02-28T13:14:00.000-05:00

Today is the New Moon, an auspicious time for cutting away the old, the veils, and bringing in the new. I have been growing it out quite long for some time now, and I finally feel ready. I am donating to Locks of Love... those pics of cancer kids, really just kills me!
I threw a party this weekend, and when my lovely magical friends found out what I was doing they surrounded me and blessed the hair... any child who gets this hair gets all the fun magic and juju I have put into it over the years. This hair has been to countless fire circles, dancing, through the woods, to far places... My hope is that some of that is given to the child, to give her hope and confidence and healing. Aaaahhhh!!!
So today is the day. I go in half an hour... oooh, the butterflies. My long blonde hair is an essential part of my identity, something I am used to. Sweeping across my back as I dress in the morning, being part of my image and my fun... it will take some getting used to.
But hey! It's a renewable resource...

Just call me cop charmer...

2006-02-22T19:58:00.000-05:00

Been a while since I blogged. Since then I have definitely been pulled over several more times, and not once have I gotten a ticket... I don't want to ruin my luck, but seriously! I am a little proud. It all comes down to politeness, a little dimpling never hurts, and usually I have been speeding to get to the hospital... so telling them I am going to help a possibly dying horse never hurts...
I am shameless, I know it. When I have more time I will post here my adventures. Meanwhile a grueling exam awaits me tomorrow morn, and who am I to deny it?

school is eating my brain cells, one at a time

2005-05-03T20:50:00.000-04:00

I swear, as if I wasn't brainially challenged enough before vet school, it's rough having to prove over and over what a ditz I am. Honestly. I've always felt since I was accepted, 'wow, I fooled them, huh? They have no idea what they've just invited in'. And now look. I am completely unable to do even basic math; I get lost in parking lots; I can't remember what day it is most of the time, especially if it's not on my schedule.
Ha! Sounds like old-fart's disease! And I'm not even that old!
I've a story to tell and a test tomorrow... so the story must wait, I'm afraid.

Entourage

2005-04-04T22:41:00.000-04:00

This is why it's good to be blonde!
I went to a local alternative/goth/gay club on Fetish night with my lovely open minded man and a few guy friends. I was dressed not to kill but to entrance... red mesh dress, flamenco heels, yummy!! I felt the need to really break loose because school has been killing my spirit and what I feel I am or was...

I brought with me a two foot long black ostrich plume that I would dance with and tease my lovely entourage... a little teasing glance from behind the fluffy plume here and there... not quite a veil, but certainly a lovely experience dancing with it!

My feet began to throb after a few hours of dancing in these lovely torture devices with three inch heels. Beautiful and incredibly impractical, kind of like a miata. I found myself in the midst of a massage at that point, my lovely boy on one shoulder and my favorite hunky dance partner on the other, and a handsome gentleman taking care of the pesky lower back muscles. I felt like I could finally recover and let go of the horrendous tests I have been having lately.
Finally as the dark haired lovely one went to get me a drink, I found myself escorted to a throne like chair; plush red velvet, dark wood detailing, the works. As soon as I was seated, my shoes were removed and my feet found themselves in capable hands. Aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!

So there I was, my lovely dark boy on my left holding my drink, my hunky dance partner on my right making meatballs with my feet when up walks a man in a thong and a slave collar.
Does this sound shocking? Perhaps I forgot to mention some details of the club like the amount of flesh covered in vinyl and leather (or perhaps the amount of flesh not covered). As long as your nipples and nethers are covered, you're legal. And I mean only covered; electrical tape is A.O.K. So is mesh. Hmmmm. Anyways, I believe in the sexiness of leaving some things to the imagination (parts of me are still a lady and I like the old method of seduction; leave them wondering...) but I certainly don't mind looking at what other people consider legal, interesting or sexy.

So back to my new slave.

He had asked before if he might have the 'privelege' of serving me, so I told him to get on the floor as I had a spare foot that needed care. So down he went, and took great care in his massage. I was careless in all this, laughing with others who were somewhat drawn to the scene to see what it was all about; at one point I had my dark lovely on one side, my hunky dancer on the other, the slave on the floor and two other male friends standing about my chair; I handed S my plume and said, "please, complete it, if only for a second!" and he obliged by 'fanning' me with my feather. Again, I say aaaaaaahhhhhh...

I have always said that I will someday move to Utah and turn them on their ears by being a woman with a polyandrous family. Why not? A man to take care of the yard, a few more to tend the children, a few to work, and each one to satisfy me how I like. If men can have it why can't I? I could probably do a better job handling it all anyhow.

So there you have it. Why it is good to be a blonde.

Fahk you, you fahkin fahk!

2005-03-26T14:24:00.000-05:00

Ahh, today dawned so beautifully, birds singing and grass growing... I even saw the crocus leaves poking their way through the dirty mounds of garbage on the lawn the retreating snows have revealed. Garbage, garbage everywhere, multiplies overnight.
Worcester, dirty old armpit of a sad ghetto white trash town.
So I smile at the sun and head down the walk between the piles of garbage towards the sidewalk.

Is that MY sportsbra on the sidewalk?

Why yes, yes it is. Uh oh.

Well I did give blood yesterday, perhaps when I was bringing in the groceries it got snagged out of my gym bag and dropped on the sidewalk.

Not bloody likely, you are saying this to yourself already.

So I go to the car. I was expecting the worst because I already had the feeling. THAT feeling; someone has violated me YET AGAIN.

Yes. Someone broke into my car. AGAIN. For the second time this month, and also for the second time this month stole really stupid meaningless things. I don't get it. I really don't.
They took my rainbow print gym bag, complete with smelly sneakers, worn out yoga pants and a vet school T-shirt, shorty socks and a CD walkman that doesn't even FAHKIN belong to me!!
Not to mention a cd book with cd's in it, and... my perscription glasses?
Yes. They stole gym clothes and glasses.

WHAT.
THE.
FUCK.

I mean it's not like there is a hot market for used sneakers, is there?

Last time, they smashed my window and stole a leather bag on the floor of the front seat. What was in it? Three other bags. All to donate to a fundraiser. Hahahaha! They missed the stereo and expensive cross country skiis, and the leather jacket... all safely in the house now...
but it was the morning of my grandfather's funeral, and I came out of the house to find glass all over the sidewalk and all over the inside of my fucking car.
Which, I might add, was not all taken out by the replacement glass company and as we speak still lines the floor under the mat and was witness to the SECOND FUCKING TIME I was violated.

I.
HATE.
WORCESTER.

I can't wait to move out and back into the safety of the countryside. These people are animals.
I will shut up before I say more because I am pissed, and justifiably so.
fuck you worcester and your white trash ghetto denizens. You can fahkin keep 'em.
balls.

The short bus

2005-03-09T20:45:00.000-05:00

Dr.S from Immunology took pity on us sub-level geniouses and allowed us to have a 'special' study group with him.
He's the nicest man, truly he is; he really truly believes it will help (though he doesn't get the fact that we all understand it and either couldn't understand the language of his questions, or just suck in general at testing. Who knew that over analyzing a multiple choice question would be my downfall?)
So we were embarassed but sticking it out together, as the 'special' kids. We were sitting at a table together, we know who we are now, laughing in that embarassed way that people have when they have done something bad... like farting loudly in the library or something.
Anyway, we were trying to make the best of it, putting ourselves down for the amusement of others.
At one point, it got out of hand; we were all feeling dumb and J.A. said, "Looks like I'm riding the short bus today!"

Now, poor Dr.S, not knowing what was coming, looked genuinely concerned and said,
"Oh! You have bus or train to catch? I will hurry." Nice man, foriegn, not up on the jokes, you know?
We started laughing even more, and he looked confused so I did my best to explain.

"You see, here there are two kinds of buses. There is the long bus, that all the regular normal kids get to take to school. And then there is the short bus. For the 'special' kids. And today, that's us."
He looked confused.
"Special?"
Someone chimes in,
"Yeah, you know, window lickers!"
It goes bonkers at that point.
I started doing that incredibly un-pc thing that we ALL did as kids to make fun of the 'special' kids, you know what I'm talking about because you DID IT TOO or you are lying, you curl up your hand and thwap it against your chest. Someone else pretended to lick windows. Other people were throwing in behavioral suggestions, all for the education of our beloved Dr.S.

He got it.

We settled down and he said,
"Well sometimes I feel that I am driving the short bus."
hahahahahahahha!

So, Veterinarians are doctors?

2005-03-09T20:37:00.000-05:00

And they say I'M BLONDE? Come on, really!
Went on a date with someone for the first time and it turned into an interview about what veterinary school is like, and what vets do. Now, I don't expect the public to understand the particulars, but you'd think a human surgeon would at least have a clue.

But to not know that veterinary school is a medical school? Hello, we do surgery!

Boy has clearly been living under a rock. No, I take that back; under a surgery table. Sheesh.

To say the least there will be no more dates with THAT one.
ha!
I am a little put out with people thinking that veterinarians are all touchy feely and that all we do is pet puppies all day long. We do what meds do, even more so; at least their patients can at times tell them what is wrong. We get paid less and our schooling is harder (we have way more than one specific type of primate to work with!). People expect us to work miracles and be specialists in any animal we come across; and then act surprised when we say the schooling is hard. Oh brother is it hard, harder than anything I have ever done in my whole life. Try smashing your head against a stone wall, because you WANT to, and then tell everyone you LIKE it; and because you want what is on the other side of the wall, you will ritualistically smash your head against that wall every single day because you believe in the greater goal of it all. That ladies and gentlemen is vet school.
I think it is going to permanently warp me and make me unable to deal with regular people after a while. I was freaky before! Whew!

Pussy... cat?

2005-02-24T11:18:00.000-05:00

So this takes place back in the archives of tender childhood, when I was young and innocent... about 10 years old or so.

The phone rings and I answer it...
"Hello?"
and a dark and dirty voice answers,
"Hello little girl... do you have a pussy?"

Now, I have lived and still live my whole life with cats. Back then I slept every night with my good old kitty cat on the bed, snuggled in, keeping warm. He was my best friend and when you're 10, friends are everything.

So I say;
"Oh, yeah!"
and that dirty ol' perv replies,
"Well what does it look like?"
So I say, in all my young innocent honesty,
"Oh, well, his name is Sammy and he's gray and has yellow eyes, and he's kinda fat but I think he's cute. He sleeps on my bed every night and he's soft and I like to pet him."
there is this long pause while ol' perv gets the idea that he's not getting anywhere...
"No, not... I mean, not a... aw, fercrissakes, nevermind!" all pissed off he hangs up.

Well I was pretty confused. My mom asked me who called and I said it was some guy asking about the cat, so she wanted me to tell her everything we said... and she never explained why she laughed herself senseless.

Why blondes don't get tickets

2005-02-14T09:27:00.000-05:00

I love my car. I love to drive fast and I refuse to drive an automatic, because I like the feeling of control in a standard and the way you can really get it moving. Driving an automatic just fucks me all up and leaves me feeling useless and bored.

So the main road was freshly paved, after months and months of raised manhole covers and grooved pavement. I was psyched! So were the cops. You know the story, small town, no crime; so they are bitterly rabid about speeding. I mean, they get you if you are 4 miles per hour over. Sigh.

So, it was freshly paved, and I was fucking goddamn late. As usual. But I wasn't worried, because I was driving a fast little car (my old Jetta, sweet little burgundy piece of German engineering, complete with sick stereo and sunroof) and, well, I'm blonde. Yes, blonde. Why would that keep me from worry? Allow me to illustrate.

Ok, so freshly paved, me in my little car, late. I pull out of my road onto this slick sweet blacktop, smiling broad, disco on, and whip the car into a frenzy, got it up to 55 in the space of 15 yards. Yeeehaw! Shit. That. Was. A. Fuckin'. Cop. Yep, on the side street, sweet as can be, he saw the whole thing. Crap. I knew he was coming for me so I slowed only just a bit, real casual, I'm not doing anything wrong...

Blue lights... and over I go. Nicely dressed, hands on the dashboard, sunny smile, turn the music off. Roll the window down, get all ready, compliant and sweet...
I look in the rearview mirror... Oh, Joy! This is gonna be TOO easy!! Young rookie, chubby, not in the least attractive. Poor guy, doesn't even know what's coming.

So he steps up to the car, and mumbles his opening lines. Asks me if I know why I have been pulled over, so I dimple at him and say, "no, officer." Hee hee!
He said, "You were speeding; I clocked you going 55 and this is a 35 mph zone."
My eyes widened (as if in) surprise and I said...

I actually said, groaning inside (you idiot, he's never gonna fall for that shit!)

"Gasp!" whipping my head towards my speedometer, "I didn't know this little old car could get up that fast!"

so, feeling a sense of doom (you've pushed it too far, you really are a dumb blonde, you idiot...) I felt elation when he actually leaned casually on the door of my car and said,
"Heh heh, yeah, I know, it's so easy to get going on the fresh blacktop, you just gotta take it easy. Where you going in such a hurry?"
(oh my god I can't believe it the gods are smiling on me today)
So I dimple at him again,
"Oh, I'm late for class, I am never late I don't know what my problem is!"
So he asks for license and reg, the usual, and of course I don't have my license so sweet as pie I say,
"Oh, it's in my backpack which is back there" (pointing to the backseat) "I could get out and get it for you if you like?"
So he said to me,
"No, no that's alright, I take it you live right down there? Listen, though, I am patrolling this neighborhood, lots of speeding cuz of the new pavement, just take it easy huh? You have a good day."

Ahhhh, a triumph for the blonde.
Some people will say it's evil, and perpetuates the myth of feminine wiles and manipulation. I say, if they're dumb enough to fall for it and think that I'm a dumb blonde, they deserve it. Hah.