Walking The Wire With No Net

The holiday season can be a treacherous time for relationships. All sorts of emotional baggage arrives at the frontal lobe of your brain, unannounced. Full of memories of people, places and events long gone, it unloads the contents to your consciousness and the festivities begin. Long-distance relationships are particularly vulnerable, lacking the face to face reassurances that can alleviate some of the mishigas, although that is a tall order as the bells jingle in the background.

In my case, there is the double whammy of a December birthday tossed into the mix. That can really set my dreidl spinning. Communications get scrambled and emotions do, too. It's like walking a tightrope. There is that connection, but there is that distance...not just a physical distance. Something triggers that old insecurity, you know, the one in the emotional baggage and, bingo, we all scramble for cover. Understandable, but avoidable if that communication line isn't broken.

For me, an amazing example of faith in going from point A to point B is Philippe Petit and his surreal journey in 1974. He bridged all doubt and insecurity with courage and a supreme love for life. Remember, he used no net.




There are no guarantees, but if you don't believe, you will be doomed to all that is mundane. There is a time and place for comfort and curling up by the fire and there is a time to scare the bejeebers out of yourself and hit the wire. The reward may be transcendental. What's that? What if you fall? Well, who's to say there are no angels to catch you? You may sprout wings of your own. If not, I say it is worth the risk. To quote Mssr. Petit when asked why he walked between The Twin Towers,

"When I see a beautiful place to put my wire I cannot resist."
















picture~work in progress

So Good To Be With You Again...

Sunday morning coffee is brewing. The sun shines behind some random clouds, but the wind dispatches them in short order. It's Halloween in Queens. There are still a few fighter jets patrolling the sky, but, other than their muted roars, it's kind of quiet. A little time for reflection. This is day I prepare to visit with some folks I haven't seen for a while...some, quite a while. At midnight I will say a few prayers and invite them to come and stay for a bit. They always do and it is a rare treat to feel them so close again.

I believe the spirit never dies. Our physical self will perish, but that energy that animates us joins the collective soul at that time. Now, many dispute this, but because there is no way to prove it one way or the other, it is a matter of faith. I paid my money and made my choice. The cool thing about this is tonight. There are many ways to welcome your ancestors and loved ones to your home if you are so inclined. In Mexico Dia de los Muertos is their most important holiday. Families save over the course of the year in order to prepare an ofrenda, an offering on a special alter dedicated to the ones they loved. There are specific foods made only at this time, shared with family and dear friends. Visits to the cemetery are family occasions with food and mezcal or beer for the living and dead...and visitors. Copal incense is burned day and night. It is a celebration of life and life after death.

By creating a sacred space with prayer and intention, the spirits have a safe haven for a time. There is a belief in many cultures that the veil which separates the quick and the dead is thin this time of year, especially now through November 5th. Perhaps you have been thinking of someone departed recently. Some have dreams or daydreams about them. It's a very natural reaction.

Now the trick or treaters are ringing the doorbell. Skeletons, superheros, ladybugs, lion and tigers and bears, oh my, wait for their sweet treats. The farm down the road has a Children's Halloween Festival today. All the kids dress in costume and parade around the grounds. The belief in Oaxaca is the souls of the children visit first, on October 31st, while the adults breeze in on November 1st. This is their most sacred time of year. The children parade in the streets of Oaxaca today...tomorrow is the adults will dance in the streets, the parks and the zocalo.

Tonight I'll work some magic of my own. This is my favorite ceremony, although it always brings tears to my eyes. Like much of life, it is bittersweet but, much more sweet than bitter. It's quite simple and kind of quiet, though I do sing if I'm in the mood. The circle is cast, visualizing a wall of moonflower vines encircling the room. I love moonflowers, but any plant you like is what you would see. There is water for cleansing and candles to light the way for all. As I sit in the circle the memories of those I welcome come to mind and I feel their presence. It is a communion of spirit. There are some special words I like to say while we visit to keep the stairway to heaven open. When the time comes to an end there is a beautiful Benediction by David O. Norris to say hasta la vista.

Benediction

It is time to bid farewell

As this Samhain passes from us

Soon the dawning will embrace us

and the sunset portal close.

Until the turning of the year

We must part for just a while

Yet I know there is no ending

And the silver thread spins outward

To that place where you are going

Until I travel there to meet you

Or your return upon the autumn,

On this sacred night of Spirits

When we shall meet again.

Blessed be.

Great Ancestors,

I thank you for joining me this night.

Relatives and loved ones,

I honor you and wish you sleep well.

May you go in peace.

Great Spirit

Stay with me.

Protect and guide me upon this new year.

So mote it be.

Remember, There Was A Full Moon...

Most people who know me well would say the day I quote Ronald Reagan hell froze over. Well, jingle bells to you...here goes...

I'm notorious for being defensive...Christine has used the phrase "you're totally paranoid, Mom", throughout her childhood to the present day. Perhaps, but I have my reasons, as we all do when we feel threatened. We build our psychic fortresses to withstand the assaults of the outside world. These may be emotional, physical or spiritual in nature.

When our status quo is in peril we may feel the need to reinforce the walls, bring the drawbridge up and barricade all the windows and portals. Somebody start boiling the oil.

Hold on a minute there. Is this really a threat? Maybe it's time for a change...or at least a chance. Try some deep breaths. Maybe a margarita or two. Name your poison. Just try to relax. What if you removed a brick or three? You just might see what's on the other side of the wall is intriguing, if not positive. How will you ever know if you keep building that wall higher and higher? Lots of questions, huh? Well, maybe the answers lie on the other side of the wall. So, heaven help me, take a listen to Ronnie. For this one and only time, I agree with him.

pic~raven~Skeletons In The Attic:Poe

Alright, There's A Full Moon Risin'

Perhaps you adhere to the belief that the stars and planets influence our daily affairs, perhaps not. I am addicted to my daily horoscope in any form...print, online, podcast or video. Each morning I read my daily forecast and either nod in agreement or shake my head, heeding a dire warning. This week brings the full moon. Although its effect on mere mortals is disputed, most people will agree it seems to influence our behavior. That being said, I believe this must be a most powerful full moon because some behavior has been a little loony for about two weeks now. Could it be this is not moon-related? Yo no se. I'm feeling more confused than usual. In fact, I'm feeling a little anxious. When this happens, I listen to music to calm myself, to soothe frazzled nerves and to sing and dance myself into a relaxed state of mind.

Oh yes, it's tango time. I love Francisco Canaro. In fact, I just got hold of his CD that has my favorite tango on it, "Te Quiero". That song is the ring tone on my cell phone.
I'm listening to my tangos and giving my brain a rest. I'll let my heart take over for a while. It is so much more forgiving of my eccentricities.

.



pic~Book cover~Poe: Skeletons In The Closet

Venus Retrograde...And In Libra, No Less!

"There she is. Come on over and give me a kiss."

John is waving in my direction from the reception desk. His Irish brogue carries across the crowded waiting room. I've listened to that brogue for over twelve years now.

"I'll be with you momentarily, John. I'm taking care of another patient, but I'll be back soon."

We cared for his late wife, too. He is living proof to me that there truly can be a broken heart.

After she died he was hospitalized many times for chest pain and blockages to his coronary arteries. We would see him every two to three months for a while there. Lately he's been spending more time with his family in Ireland. His daughters believe it does him a world of good. John disputes that belief.

"I might as well be in China for all the good it does me. Worry follows me. It's how I am."

I feel a special bond with John that's hard to explain. Maybe there's a certain chemistry.

Some patients stay with you. I remember some from over thirty years ago. Yikes!

A little while later, I hear Sandra call a familiar name. It's Julie's dad. He's having his test in Mario's room today. His wife told me it's hard for them to see me since Julie died. I understand, but it's sad. Later, while I'm talking to John about family things, Julie's dad walks by. He extends his hand and gives mine a gentle squeeze. Our eyes meet. We smile. He walks out the exit door without looking back.

I give John a hug and a kiss. He hands me a black plastic bag.

"Here, I picked this up for you. I knew I'd be seeing you, what with the chest pain at the airport. Handmade chocolates...for you."

Another hug and I'm back to work. I can't shake the feeling that the universe is telling me something. It's said when Venus goes retrograde in Libra we will learn lessons about past relationships that affect our present ones. It's so busy I have no time to ponder this mystery.

When I return home there are messages and phone calls. Before I know it, it's almost 11PM. Where did the day go? Then the lesson starts to sink in. Treasure your friends and loved ones now, for time does fly. My dear patients have lost their beloved wife and child and that loss changed them forever. Still, they live and they love. Lucky for me, for I hold them dear to my heart.

pic~natalie & the walrus :)

Delusions of The Full Moon Variety

That plate smashes into the kitchen wall...shatters into a score of pieces. I haven't done that since 1973 and it feels good, real good. Silvery moonlight filters through my lacy curtains, creating odd moth eaten patterns on the linoleum floor. It's quiet on my corner tonight. No traffic noise or crunching fender benders, no couples arguing at top decibel in the middle of the street, not caring who hears what and no sirens...ambulance or fire engines...roaring down the parkway outside my window. Crickets sing their last hurrah. It's summer's last day for this year. We celebrate autumn's return at 11:09pm tomorrow. Although it is my favorite season, I am in no mood for celebration. A bit of self-pity and 'i just knew it' have crept out of my sub and into my consciousness. I was so sure the pattern was broken. This time I took my time and made the right choice, assuming it was a two-way street. It seems, as my friends will attest to, my sense of direction runs true...I have none. I did not realize I turned onto a one-way street, but it seems I am consistent. Well, that's good...I guess. Maybe a GPS is in order. Without one, I tend to drive around in circles for a while before I reach my destination. If that is the case, I am getting dizzy...I may need some help, but I will get there. Maybe I'll blame it on the full moon that's coming on Thursday.

I'm thinking another flying saucer may do me a world of good, but I don't feel like picking up the pieces, especially in bare feet. That leaves me quite vulnerable for injury and I've had enough of that. Perhaps it's best to maintain a holding pattern. After all, I don't know where I'm going anymore, so what's the rush? Sleep deprivation seems to go hand and hand with this need for GPS assistance. It is a real pain in the butt to feel so clueless, but I do. In another reality, I would hop on a plane and just go somewhere, but that's not an option right now.

Oooh, a fire engine just rolled down the street...set off a car alarm on the way. That's better...some noise to distract me. It will take more than that, though. Sleep will come, eventually. In the morning things will look different in the sunlight. I may even find that GPS I was looking for tonight. Right now that plate looks mighty tempting...more sirens?,,, oh, yeah!

Guardians of the Soul

Sagittarius Horoscopes

(Nov 22 - Dec 21)

Next Week

For the Week of Aug 2nd, 2010 -- Your desire to avoid emotional drama may be difficult to achieve this weekend. Planets are firing off rockets that can explode in sudden attraction or blast away trust you have in another person. If you have someone special in your life, treat him or her as tenderly as you can, even when reason has flown the coop. Staying cool in the chaos is your best move.

Not surprisingly, I decided to sip a margarita this evening in lieu of the more traditional pain medication at my disposal. My body is on the mend. It reminds me of this any time I try to overextend my resources. There is no choice...I listen. My cat, Elliot, has taken it upon himself to be my personal bodyguard. This is quite amusing. He sticks to my like glue...at my feet, by my side and, of course, underfoot..."Oh, my God! Are you trying to kill me?" Even Monet has been solicitous. Animals sense human stress, be it emotional or physical and have their way of showing support. Some are more tuned in than others. They don't say a word. They are there for you.

There are people like this, too. They don't always have much to say, but they are there, present, when you need that extra energy. Words don't always work. I'm never sure I'll say the 'right' ones, anyway. Just knowing that someone is thinking of you when you need that extra boost gives a certain peace of mind. It is a blessing.

The ancient Egyptians considered cats sacred for practical and spiritual reasons. Some said they were guardians of the home and the soul. Maybe so. I've known a couple of contenders, feline and human, for that honor. Very glad to have them in my life.

Cap'n, I Think She's Gonna Blow

Have you ever walked into the flame? You know the inevitable outcome. The best case scenario is you are only seriously wounded...worst case, destruction. Perhaps not annihilation, but part of you will not survive. Is this always a negative thing?

It brings to mind the original Star Trek with Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Bones and Scotty racing around the Enterprise after some nefarious Klingon attack. Sirens blare, red lights flash and Spock stoically spews scientific data predicting the eminent demise of the entire crew. Does Kirk flinch? Well, grimace, perhaps, but he races on to confront his fate...and that of his crew. Controlled chaos ensues with explosions, sparks and smoke...but when the smoke clears the heart of the Enterprise is still intact. Kirk, Spock, Bones, Scotty and even Uhuru are on deck, a gash here, a bandage there...maybe a limp. They may have lost some ancillary personnel on deck 3 and deck 8, but the guts of the operation are still operational.

"Aye, Cap'n, I thought she was gonna blow this time."

"Mr. Scott, I knew you could pull it off. Mr. Spock, are we clear?"

"Yes, Captain. All systems are functional."

"Steer a course for AlphaBetaMega, Mr. Chekov."

Off they blast, into the stars, a tiny speck in the universe.

That's how things happen in life, too. When we're in the thick of it there's little time to think or feel. Just that need to survive, but not to avoid the challenge. We may be singed, but we find we can still move pretty fast when we have to.

It does the soul good to walk through the fire sometimes. Personally, I don't make a habit of it, but it is invigorating. Do you smell something burning?

inspired, in part by Sometime Around Midnight by the Airborne Toxic Event and in part by life ;)

Greeks Bearing Gifts

Niko came in to have his heart tested today. We've been through this ritual many times. He reminds me of Zorba. His laugh is infectious and his outlook always positive. His family lives here and in Greece. His nephew, Nick, was going to start his own business, a small restaurant in Astoria. Niko gave him start-up money and his blessing. "What do you think this kid did with the money? He decides he needs some time to think so he takes his girlfriend and they go to Spain. Why Spain? Who knows?" Now he's laughing. "Ah, it's okay. Maybe he's right. Sometimes you need to be free for a while." I couldn't help it. I had to ask. "But, Niko. What about the money?" Generosity is not as popular in these financially trying times. "I don't worry 'bout that, Blondie. Not so important. I'll live." He was still laughing. "Life is good. Spain, Greece, Astoria...it is good. Did you wake up today? Yes! So, this is your blessing. Money comes, money goes. Enjoy life. Nick, he's a good boy. He will be okay. I will be okay. Love, we have love. Money does not trump love...not for me, not ever." Now I was smiling. Niko is a gambler. He enjoys Atlantic City and travels to Vegas when the gaming spirit moves him. He took a chance with his nephew. He chose to see it as win-win. "When he comes home, we'll talk. No more money, but sometimes you need more than money. So, it's done."

Many people feel they must hold on to what they have just to survive. If they are not in survival mode, they are worried about tomorrow. Maybe they feel their way of life is on the line. It seems they are trying to hold on to what they have. This may seem like a good idea, but it promotes a mentality of poverty. "I don't have enough...There might not be any left...When will I get more?" This attitude affects your sense of self. If you feel poor, you feel less. Anxiety goes up, optimism goes down. Soon, you're fulfilling your own prophecy. Yep, see, I am suffering. There is a solution. Give someone a gift.

A dear friend of mine has a friend who drives her crazy. Nope, not me this time. He always sees the glass as half empty...Mr. Negative. They have known one another for many years. Although they seem at odds often, they give one another support all the time. For all the bickering and complaining, they remain friends.

The gift of friendship is not to be given lightly. It is a commitment and a bond. The beautiful thing about it is that it is reciprocal. It is in the highest category of gift giving. This is an ongoing gift for both people. It is re-gifting the soul, for true friends get to know each other's deepest feelings and dreams. That's a big responsibility. Some hide from it. Some fear it. Others deny themselves this gift thinking the price is too high. On reflection, I think not giving and receiving this gift is the saddest choice you will make. Life is a bumpy ride. Having friends, true friends, along the way to share the highs and lows, gives you wealth beyond any treasure you possess.

The gift of love is simple. Ask Niko as he dances through life. You listen to your heart. Now, filter out the pro and con voices of the brain for a while. There's time for that, but not now. What does your heart feel when you want to give the gift of love? What does it feel when the gift is offered to you? The brain may get all panicky and crazy. This didn't work before. I'm not ready. This is not the right time. I've had enough changes...I need time for myself...okay, did you get that out of your system? Now, take a deep breath and just feel your heart beat. It tells you the truth. It will protect you, though you feel so vulnerable, so transparent. You are not alone...is that scary, too? It's all right. Your heart never rests. It feels everything. It will take you where you need to go, follow it. That doesn't mean you're skipping down the primrose path. We are back on that Rocky Road to Dublin, but, remember your friend? You know your heart wouldn't steer you to just anybody. You'll be traveling that road with your best friend. That's how real love starts and finishes. The heart knows. Once you open your heart to the gift of love, your heart returns the favor. It's a freakin' love fest. Dance with Niko and Zorba. Throw the plates. Lift your hands in the air. Listen to your heart.

Ch-Ch-Changes

I'm at sixes and sevens, so I decided to change a few things that are easy to handle. One is the look of this blog...it was time. The other is my fb profile pic.

Sometimes I am afraid of change. It can be scary. It can be uncomfortable. It is often unexpected. Last, but not least, it can be wonderful. Try it, you'll like it. Baby steps are good.

Check out the blog. Like it?

There is some big stuff on the horizon. This is a practice run.

Summer Gold and Blue

Summer Sunday...Father's Day...steamy New York weather. Storms on the horizon, but blue patches and sunshine still smile down on us. The humidity wraps around me as I walk to the grocery store for one thing I forgot yesterday...red peppers. The warm close sensation feels good for a little while, but the air-conditioned store is refreshing. Tomorrow is the first day of summer.

A celebration of summer is traditional...gold is the color of the day. Sunflowers beckon from their container in the produce section. I don't resist. Sunflowers are just what I want to welcome summer to Glen Oaks. My relationship with this season would best be described as "it's complicated". A lot of unexpected stuff happens to me and people I love in the months of June, July and August. This makes me a bit wary of summer, but I do enjoy the enforced slow down for a while. This summer is no exception. There are health issues and high drama rears its regal head. We even christened a fire pit last night under the watchful 'eye' of a NYPD helicopter. This wild bunch was caught in the act of making s'mores...we shared.

While the fire was burning, I had a long conversation with a friend I haven't seen in many years. We caught up on family things, then talk turned to here and now...and tomorrow. Lately, I've realized that tomorrow has low priority for me. Here and now is what it's all about because it's all I'm sure of at any given moment. I mean, I think about the future, but I don't angst over it the way I used to because, on reflection, it's a waste of energy. My friend is in the process of making a major lifestyle change. That is scary and exciting. Only the person making the change can decide which one of those feelings is holding the high card. I don't give much advice on these matters. She will be the one to mind her own counsel.

We spoke of people we love, here and gone. Van Morrison, singing 'Brown Eyed Girl', backed up the conversation for a while. We smiled. We got it. Change is constant in life, but some other things remain constant, too. Love and friendship endure those changes. The only way you get that is by living life. Another friend arrived. She was totally frazzled trying to coordinate last minute details of her daughter's upcoming nuptials. We sipped white sangria and compared notes on parenting daughters. We sipped more sangria. Despite the frazzle factor, we counted our blessings.

As I surveyed the gathering around the fire pit, I realized this is the beginning of summer. We brought it in with the traditional crawfish boil and oh, so much more bounty. I assured my friends the best is yet to come. I truly believe that. Summertime blues not withstanding, what I see in my here in now is awesome. Peeking into the future looks pretty damn good, too. My body will get its tune-up soon and it will be all systems go. I'll be dancing in the firelight, enjoying now, knowing that very good things are on the horizon.

Oaxaca 2009

Heart Care

Smell of alcohol on his breath. My first patient said his memory wasn't too good. I recognize that scent...lived with an alcoholic for a while. It was a matter of personal safety...alcohol=danger, no alcohol=50/50. I can usually identify the type of alcohol imbibed...this morning, I'd say vodka. Not too much, just enough to take the edge off. The edge of pain, of fear, of anger, of grief or memories...it's an individual edge. This man was having his heart tested today. That's what I do, I care for hearts.

Strange how we earn our bread and butter. I've been in the heart care business for about twenty years. Sometimes, though, I forget how to care for my own. Lately, I think I've been doing a much better job. Care and maintenance of your heart can be a tricky thing if you don't listen to it. You need to be very quiet. Music can take you to the right place. Your brain may try to butt in...don't let it...at least, not now. Things you hear on the cardiac network might contradict so called common sense. That's okay. Let the song of your heart echo through your entire being. It will tell you the truth. Not what is right or wrong, good, bad or ugly. It will sing you the truth. Your choice is to make it a duet or let it float along into the universe solo.

Keeping your heart open is another important part of caring for your ticker. Clinically, this means one thing. I'm talking open heart policy. This can leave you susceptible to heartache and even heartbreak. It's worth the risk. The effect of closing your heart is worse than any pain you may endure. Closing the heart leads to a loss of feeling and hardening of the emotions. Ouch! An open heart leads to a joyful life. Warm and fuzzy feelings have also been reported.

Next, sharing your heart. This sounds a little messy. It can be, but in a good way. The more you share, the more heart there is to go around. This is an unexplained and wondrous phenomena. It takes getting used to, especially if you have been guarding your heart for a while. People tend to guard their heart after it's been broken or crushed...very understandable. The idea of letting the drawbridge to castleheart down is scary. It took a long time to dig that moat and stock it with fear-eating catfish. Take it easy. Lower it a notch at at time. Good things are on the way. No knights on chargers or damsels in distress on the horizon. That's another tale. See, things out there have potential.

Taking my own advice is not always easy for me. This time, I found it much simpler than in the past. Must be some of that older=wiser stuff going on. Whatever it is, I am grateful for the chance to fluff up my heart and let it sing to me. It is a beautiful vibrant song.

heart shrine~love fell into itself

On Memorial Day 2010

Summery sunshine and blue sky brings in this Memorial Day here in Queens. There's a big parade just down Littleneck Parkway on Northern Boulevard. My flag is in the window, red, white and blue behind the lace curtains. It's the unofficial beginning of summer. It's the official day of remembrance for soldiers who died in our Civil War...now for all fallen soldiers in our many wars. Each one of us has our own recollections. I know I don't need a special day for that, yet, I know it is a way to remind people what price freedom has and how horrific war really is.

Summer is a strange season for me. It seems many major changes initiate for me during the summer months. At one time I actually would dread the months of June, July and August. They seemed to incubate disruption during their steamy days. Fortunately, I've come to understand that this disruption of my norm is part of life's heartbeat. Sometimes it skips a beat, other times the rate accelerates and it might even throw in a few extra lub-dubs to keep me on my toes. Now, I don't take all these changes as an exception...more like a random pattern that occurs when necessary. Whenever I think I 'get it', what I get is a little zap. Complacency is stagnation, so the gods of summer throw a monkey wrench into the mix. I like monkeys, but things may get chaotic for a while. When the dust and banana peels settle, I begin to see reason to the rhyme.

So, here I am. Official or not, summer begins. Not wanting to disappoint me, the gods of summer have started the monkeyshines. Some are scary and some are amazingly wonderful. Welcome to my summer revelations. By the time I reach September, I'm sure things will be calmer. Well, I'm not really sure, but I'm okay with whatever evolves.

I've been clearing out many years of stuff. Spring cleaning continues to Summer cleaning...risky business. There are old paintings I've culled, but one that I love is Abuelita. I painted her in my parent's basement one summer's day, while I was trying to keep cool. She has been with me since then.

There are some things to hold and others to set free. Ah, summertime! This year, I do look forward to the shakeup. I moved Abuelita to the Oaxaca wing of my apartment. She seems right at home there. We all know, home is where the heart is.

Abuelita~painted mid-late '60's ;)

Generous Heart

Elliot is sitting on my lap, purring and head-butting the lap top. That is his way of showing affection, although the head-butting does get him in trouble on occasion. He stops, momentarily distracted by a cardinal's call, but resumes his ritual. The cardinal, oblivious to the cat and the human this side of the window, continues his song to his lady. His scarlet feathers puffed out at his throat, black cap shining in the early morning sun, all seems well in his world. It's a heartfelt serenade and soon there is a smaller female cardinal next to him. Her feather colors are more subdued, but she certainly has our boy's attention. When you let the song in your heart fly good things can happen. Then again, there are no guarantees. Sometimes you open your heart and another reaches in and scoops out some love, leaving nothing in exchange. Some people are expert at taking, but haven't quite gotten the knack of giving. This is not necessarily a malicious intent. Maybe it's how their brain is wired. Maybe the connection to the heart short circuited.

If this happens to you, if your heart gets scooped and you find it feels a little empty, don't be too concerned. Hearts have an amazing capacity for regeneration. It may take some time or it may happen overnight. If you are blessed with a generous heart you will find the joy of giving far outweighs the occasional scooping deficit. Live and learn. The generous heart seems to overflow, so sharing and giving of itself is almost a survival instinct...almost like breathing. The generous heart seems fragile to those who don't have one. They caution against giving too much or trusting the wrong people or thinking with your heart, not your head. Well, this is advice to take into consideration, but the generous heart knows these things...and still shares the love.

So, maybe a big box of heart band-aides is in the medicine cabinet. That's okay. If you are really living life you are bound to get a few bumps and bruises along the road. That generous heart may look like its been through a war, but it is the most beautiful heart imaginable. It can see the negative in you, but it focuses on the positive. Others may have given up on you, but this heart knows that you are capable of getting back on track. This generous heart is in your cheering section at all times. This heart will not lie, but will deliver the truth with kindness and compassion. This heart accepts who you are, takes you for you and does not judge.

As you may have guessed, generous hearts are a rare breed. They may even be on the endangered hearts list. If you are fortunate enough to have one touch your heart, sing Hallelujah! Sing it loud and sing it from your soul. They will change your life. Once touched by a generous heart an amazing transformation occurs. Your heart learns what it means to truly give with no heartstrings attached. It is liberating and a blessing beyond words.

heart sketch for shrine based on david olney's beautiful 'if my eyes were blind'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P-dBzTNyhG0&feature=related

Waiter, There's A Monster In My Soup

Heading for the Bayou tonight for music and some gumbo. I don't expect anything unexpected to surface in my soup bowl, but strange things do happen. Sometimes I' m asked why I write about vampires, with a zombie or a shape-shifter thrown in for good measure.

First, it's fun. I've enjoyed the dark side of fantasy since I was a child. Snow White's evil queen and her magic mirror fascinated me. Why was she so cruel? The monsters I write about do not walk this earth. Their realm is the imagination...places where a cold sweat might begin. What's under the bed or in that closet when the lights go out? Are those branches scratching against the window pane? What makes you hurry down the street at night...did you really hear a voice or is it the wind whining in the leaves? Second, that adrenalin rush always turns me on. It seems natural to explore the scary side of fantasy. Yeah, I like big roller coasters, too.

There are other monsters I find much more horrific than my blood-thirsty crew. These are the monsters of our realm. Child molesting pedophiles, rapists, sadistic brutes, abusive parents and psychic vampires are more terrifying than the fictional side show. They wreak havoc every day. I've encountered a few choice specimens, as I'm sure you have. They are commonplace in our society. If they've ever crossed your path, I don't think you would describe the event as commonplace, though.

My stories may have elements of real world monsters in them. Some are evil, some are...different. You might find you feel a twinge of sympathy for my fantastic monster. Maybe he didn't choose this life. Maybe she was betrayed. Maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. After all, this is make believe. I have no sympathy for real monsters. You may have heard where 'sympathy' is in the dictionary...between 'shit' and 'syphilis'. That sums up my feelings about sympathy for those miscreants. The devastation they cause is beyond words.

Give me a blood-sucking Nosferatu or a howling werewolf any day. They are what they are. Maybe they've have moved from Transylvania or the moors of England, but their song remains the same. They will give you a good scare. Sometimes, they'll give you a good laugh. After all, they're only non-human, not inhumane.

Scramble Through The Brambles

A mass of branches and burgundy leaves filter the view from my kitchen window. The Japanese maple tree planted eighteen years ago is reaching for heaven. It reminds me of the thorny brambles that covered Sleeping Beauty's castle when she fell into slumber under that magic spell...you know, the one with the spindle. It doesn't take a spell nor a spindle to allow the brambles to grow tall and wild. No one can find a way past the spiky barrier and, after a while, they stop trying and leave Ms. Beauty to dream about Prince Charming. Only, the prince has his own stuff to deal with. As the years go by, the brambles grow more tangled, the thorns sharper. Everyone and everything in the castle is frozen in time, insulated from outside influence.

You may think this is a safe cocoon, but that's not always the case. Things and people become stagnant without something to stir them up once in a while. A little down time is how we recharge. There is a too-much-of-a-good-thing syndrome and Ms. Beauty may have succumbed to it.

Rumor has it, she was fed up with all the princes in the neighboring kingdoms prancing in on their chargers, trying to impress her. She was tired of the permanent smile on her face. Those fru-fru ball gowns made her skin itch. Her parents kept pushing her to find a nice prince and settle down. She was bored out of her gourd. While hiding in the garden behind a sprawling rosebush, she realized she was not alone. There was this evil fairy godmother type sitting on a tree stump.

"Hey, sugar...what brings you to my neck of the garden? Let me guess...avoiding another prince encounter?"

"They're okay, for princes, but I'd like to just close my eyes and have them all disappear. They are driving me nuts!"

"Heh! I think I can help you out there...meet me in the north tower at midnight."

So, you see, Ms. Beauty may have been compliant with this plot. She was feeling desperate, understandably so. It's the old story...be careful what you wish for. Wishing for a respite from clamoring admirers is natural. Just don't share it casually with evil fairy godmother types. You can recognize them by the long black dress, the sneering smile and the tattered wings...it's a dead giveaway. That's my cautionary tale for the day.

Fortunately, the tree branches outside my window just block the view. It's business as usual inside my castle. I confess, I have been somewhat somnambular for a while, but, lately I'm feeling quite perky. I don't need any hedge clipping to find what I'm looking for. Well, maybe Edward Scissorhands could stop by once in a while. I like topiary...ahh, Johnny Depp. Oh yeah, where was I? I hope Ms. Beauty and Prince Charming did live happily ever after. I'm thinking they have as good a chance as any. Of course, no one can make you happy if you aren't already there. That ever after is a crap shoot. Who knows?

Sometimes, I have to deal with very unpleasant people. For the most part, people are fun to be with, but I interact with quite a few during any given day. By the time I get back to the castle, I enjoy letting my hair down, but that's another story. I relax with assemblage, reading, writing, music...all that stuff. What I treasure is quiet time. Doing nothing, letting my mind go where it will, is a delight. I don't mind having a bramble or two in the garden. There's a wide open path to my front door. All you have to do is knock.

picture~Edward Scissorhands...ahh, Johnny ;)

Dust In The Wind Or I'm In One of Those Moods Again

Some days you wake up with someone on your mind. I did today. It took me by surprise because I hadn't traveled that memory lane for a while. Then it came to me. Today is Harry's birthday. He's been gone a long time. The only family he had left, his two maiden aunts, laid him to rest up in Nova Scotia, near his mom. So long ago, but sometimes a moment flashes into your mind and it's as though it was yesterday. I shook it off and headed for the coffee pot. Sundays usually give me some time to relax in the morning, read the paper, go online and not think about too much. A little while later I was perusing Facebook and there was a link to 'Misty Roses' by Tim Hardin. That song was playing when I met Harry, New Year's Eve, 1969. We got into a discussion about Tim Hardin and his music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sW8HToAEV-g

Then, there is this beautiful poem, 'Eastern Tones' by Will Crawford, a moving tribute to Tim Hardin and his music.

http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=1478974110

Okay, I guess I can't ignore Harry today, though Lord knows I tried. He was like that. He said it was his Norwegian tenacity. I had other names for it. After we went our separate ways, we would bump into one another on occasion. I guess we still do, so why fight it? That's my point.

A dear friend of mine told me I've been spending too much time in the past lately. In a way, that is true. I've been letting go of things that have become too heavy to carry, finally realizing I've been rolling so many boulders up that hill. It wears you down. I can just walk away. Now, old habits are hard to break, but it feels so good to set myself free, one boulder at a time.

The past and the present are woven together. There is no way to completely separate them. I wouldn't want to do that. There are days when memories just float by and there are days when they kind of hit you upside your head. Some theories say time does not proceed in a straight line, that it is more fluid. It ebbs and flows. I vote for fluid. Sometimes it's like riding whitewater rapids. You hold on for dear life, exhilarated, while everything on the shoreline appears as a long blur. Other times, that river slows almost to a standstill and everything around you is crystal clear.

The last stage of my hair project brought me back to Salon Plus. The building has stucco walls, arched windows and has been there for about thirty years. You get the distinct feeling of being in another time and place when you walk through that portal. As I waited, I chatted with Maria. "It's hard to believe I've been with Tina twenty-seven years." Twenty-seven years? Have I been going here for hair magic for twenty-seven years? Yep. The oldies music played on in the background. I sat back, shook my head and smiled. Cool. Life, live it, love it.

This brings me to 'Dust In The Wind' by Kansas and this lovely video, filmed in 1977. I guess we are, so enjoy the ride.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qxSwJC3Ly0

random photo, but they are so cute!

thanks to marlene & hank for the links ;)

special thanks to will crawford

and, happy birthday, harry...hope you're playing tim hardin wherever you may be...

Moon Crossing the River Styx

Yesterday was one of those glorious spring days you treasure. The sky was truly azure, not a cloud in sight. I guess it was about 75 with just a mild breeze blowing. It was Easter Sunday and also, my late Dad's birthday. The little guys were in the yard blowing bubbles and kicking a soccor ball around. My brother Mark and I were talking in the kitchen. "Vic, I have a bottle of scotch I got from Dad's basement years ago. I only take it out on his birthday and have one drink. How about joining in a toast to Dad?" Out came a bottle of Chivas, about three quarters full. Mark put ice in two glasses and poured. We wished Reuben a happy birthday. Mark put the scotch away, in the back of the cabinet, until next year. Other people wandered in and the conversation turned to other things. My Dad loved to cook and he loved family gatherings, so we always feel he's hanging out with us on these occasions. Would he miss his own birthday?

My mom sat in the living room with her eyes closed. Pete was napping in a recliner. John greeted me with "Welcome to the half-time room". Mom opened her eyes, looked at me and smiled. She got up and moved closer to me. "I'm glad to see you." She has good days and lost days. Yesterday was kind of a mix. Her Alzheimer's is slowly progressing and at this point, she still realizes that fact. We spoke of friends. We spoke of Dad. We spoke of her great-grandchildren. I used to mourn the loss of the parts of her that are gone. Sometimes, I still do, but I realized I want to celebrate that part of her that still is present. It frightens me to think of what she is going through. I used to stop by to visit her in the house I grew up in. There was always a cup of tea, some Entenmann's cake and conversation. "So, Victoria, tell me what's new," followed by the latest church choir gossip or her conversation with one of her sisters. Toward the end of her stay in that house she would look at me and say "I know I'm losing it, Vickie, but I don't know what to do." What do you do? She was frightened all the time, but she refused to have anyone stay with her. It must have been like being in one of those fun house mirror mazes. Nothing was what it appeared to be for her. She was lost in her own home.

My horoscope today advised me the moon was crossing the River Styx, into the realm of Pluto, the god of the underworld. I thought of my mom. According to mythology, there are five rivers which separate the living from the netherworld, Styx, the river of hate, which circles the underworld nine times, Acheron the river of woe, Cocytus, the river of lamentation, Pyriphlegethon, the river of fire and Lethe, the one my mom is crossing, the river of forgetfulness. It is a slow and difficult ride for the traveler and for those left behind. Like any journey, there are many adventures along the way. You never know what the fates have in store for you.

Life unfolded, the way it does. Mom lives in an assisted living facility close by. She's adapted and likes it. She calls it home, so home it is. I'm appreciating each day, instead of pining for something that is now a memory. No guarantee as to how long I get to keep those, anyway. So, here's to the here and now. It's the only thing that is real.

picture~natalie & caitlin, selder, ny easter 2010

April Fools for Love

Traditionally April 1st is a day for pranks and a bit of mischief. This one brings to mind another type of fool. Have you ever been a fool for love? Some might say it's just the nature of the condition. In a way, I agree. Love has a way of turning you around. Your senses are altered. Your thinking is addled. Your demeanor may change from sad to happy or it may go from 'normal' to distressed. You become preoccupied. Maybe your attention span shortens. Daydreams become frequent. Sleep patterns may become very haphazard.

Ah, yes, I've been a fool for love. I have no regrets about it. It's an experience not to be missed. If you've never been there, maybe you are afraid to take the plunge, for plunge it is. It is a leap of faith. You needn't close your eyes...many do, but it's not recommended. Even with eyes open, things are not always what they seem when the love filter is on. Not to worry, they come into focus soon enough.

My coworker, Mario, returned from a vacation in Costa Rica, smitten by a beautiful woman he met just before he was to leave for home. When he first saw her, he didn't have the nerve to speak to her. Later, that's all he spoke about, driving his friends crazy. When they encountered the lovely senorita at a club two nights later, his friends made sure they made contact. That, as they say, was it.

Mario traveled to Costa Rica for his friends' wedding. Traditionally, the day before the wedding, the groom hires a mariachi band to sing to his fiance. He leads a procession of mariachis, family, friends and neighbors down the road to her home. There she waits behind closed doors, with the women of her family until he knocks on the door. If she accepts him, she opens the door, and he bestows gifts of flowers and jewelry. If not, the door stays closed. Bummer.

This day the door opened and the fiesta began. The entire neighborhood joined in the celebration of love. Mario was quite impressed.

Did all this affect his feelings before he met his lady? Quien sabe? Some say timing is everything. Well, it is part of the picture, but the rest? There is an element that cannot be defined by logic. Some call it fate. Some call it Cupid. Whether it's the fickle finger or Cupid's dart, when it gets you, you are changed forever. Mario has her phone number. They've talked a couple of times, but he complains it is not the same as looking into her eyes or reading the body language. I can dig it. I feel ya', man. Long distance romance can be a challenge, but all is fair in love. Play the cards you're dealt in the game of life. You never know when you'll win the jackpot.

Farewell, My Hero

There was no phone call. An email from my brother Bob late last night, subject: Uncle Tony, said it all. I knew he was gone. I remembered the last conversation we had. We laughed about how we reached our respective ages. He thought my becoming a grandma was very cool, but he found it hard to believe. We spoke about family. He always kept in touch with my mom and worried about her.

When I was growing up Uncle Tony and Aunt Dorothea lived close to my parents. We spent a lot of time together. They were married for fifteen years before my cousin, Janice, was born. They were like a second set of parents to me. As I reached my teens and things would get tense on the home front, I always knew I had a safe port with the Cincottas'. We would go to shows with them, long Sunday drives or just hang out and laugh. When I got snowed in on the job and couldn't get home because the roads hadn't been plowed in Queens, Uncle Tony rescued me in his big Buick and took me back to Great Neck for a good meal and hot shower.

We used to joke about portions Uncle Tony would serve. Coming from a large family, our portions were moderate. Our best friends' had eleven children in their family. Their dad, Uncle Charlie, could cut a slice of cake you could read through. Uncle Tony would cut huge pieces of cake! It became a family tradition to ask, "Do you want an Uncle Charlie slice or an Uncle Tony slice?"

A few years ago Uncle Tony wrote his memoirs of his WWII experiences. He had been promoted to lieutenant in the field. I remember hearing many harrowing stories, but he always reminded us how horrific it was. He performed many heroic acts. He explained he just did what he had to do to survive. He was proud of his narrative and of his men. The local paper did a story about him and his war experiences. He said "Vickie, they treat me like a hero, now." I told him he always was and will be a hero to me.

Uncle Tony was the bravest man I've ever known. He taught me to drive. I know he's with his beloved Dorothea now. I was blessed a thousand times over to have them in my life. One day we will sit at the table together again, enjoying a slice of cake, good conversation and laughing 'til tears flow.

Stellar Communication

General Weekly Love Horoscope Influences

We may be roaring like lions on Friday with the Moon in outgoing and outrageous Leo. But the mood turns more serious on Saturday when Luna enters cautious Virgo. This can be helpful for unraveling relationship complications as long as criticism is balanced with kindness

Sagittarius Horoscopes

(Nov 22 - Dec 21)

Next Week

For the Week of Mar 22nd, 2010 -- The Moon in a fellow fire sign should light you up on Thursday and Friday. But then it shifts into detail-oriented Virgo, requiring a bit more self-restraint during the rest of the weekend. Pride could be wounded when facing criticism, but actively listening and taking responsibility can heal a current partnership or bring some necessary realism to a potential new one.

When I feel confused or a mite upset I look to the stars for guidance. My horoscope helps me focus when my mind is spinning in too many directions. Technically, it's called overactive brain syndrome. I have endured this malady for my entire life. Even as a child I could not turn my brain off. It just kept ticking like that stinking pink bunny. I have come to accept that as a fact of my life. I'm cool with that, but it does frazzle me sometimes.

So, let's see what the stars say. Self-restraint--tough one, wounded pride--yes, but I'll live and criticism tempered with kindness--well, all right, I think we have something going here. Actively listening is also recommended. Now that might be problematic. Because of my thin-skinned wussiness, I'm not sure I can initiate the listening process, I'm a little skittish right now. If I slowly reach my hand out this time I know you can find me. It's a two-way street.

Some scoff at my affection for the stars and tarot cards. That's okay. I will use any crutch necessary to get me through the day...or night. It seems to work for me. It's quiet on the corner tonight. Only some cars and a few motorcycles passing by on the turnpike. That's a sure sign spring has arrived. It's a good night to relax and unwind. I think I will.

I Got The Fever...Spring Fever

Elliot and Monet were running wild today. At least they thought they were. They were tearing around the house, chasing one another, knocking things over, being crazy cats. It seems I was not much better. Only three hours sleep and I was feeling a little wired myself. It's either spring fever or we are possessed by the road runner. Meep! It is the first day of spring, the vernal equinox.

I find when the seasons change it is rarely a smooth transition. People and animals get a bit jumpy. That's certainly true for me. Last year was a turbulent one for our family. Lots of changes and rearranges and readjusting; then things finally settled into a routine. Life calmed down for a while. As we meander the road we call life, there are detours sometimes. That is not necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, the bridge is down up ahead and that detour will save you some serious damage. Going with the flow has never been my strong point, but I have learned it does work.

So many people I know and love are going through rough times right now. Their roads have lots of potholes and need some major repair, but that is the path they travel. Most are making the best of it. Some are not doing well. They've fallen and are having a hell of a time getting up no matter how many helping hands are offered. They don't even see the hands. They are focused on that mess of a road, but it's only a means to an end. Yeah, I know you know it's all about the journey, but it is! I don't know why this stuff happens to people. I don't have my Zen on today. Some tell me I think too much. Is that possible? I mean, it just happens, right?

No matter how twisted, bumpy, holey or messed up that road is, I'm on it. Not only am I on it, I will give you a hand whenever or wherever you need it. I may be shrinking...sigh...but I still have my strength. My strength isn't my muscular measure. My strength is my spirit. I mean, if you want me to carry you I will give it my best shot, but get real. If you let me, I will lift you up and walk with you on that meandering road to who knows where. You never know who you will meet along the way, but I know in my heart of hearts it will not be a dull journey. That's a promise. It's the first day of spring and I am on fire.

pic~first day of spring from my kitchen window

May The Road Rise To Meet You

St. Patrick's Day is one of my favorite holidays. Not so much for the raucous debauchery that occurs throughout the city, but because it has always been a family celebration. The Irish roots on my maternal side are deep and strong. They certainly have a strong hold on my psyche. My dad, whose family hails from the north of Spain, became used to the shenanigans after a while. Certain things did drive him over the edge. Green potatoes or green milk did not sit well with him. Nor did green hair, as I found out one year after being suspended from school for "improper school dress".

We always gathered the clan for a corned beef and cabbage dinner. It became a tradition to invite family and friends. Our German neighbors and our Italian neighbors joined us singing Danny Boy and Wearin' of the Green. My mom would fix the dinner while my dad drove her crazy helping in the kitchen. Irish coffee was always served in glasses reserved for the occasion. The house was filled to overflow with love and affection.

One year, I lost a good friend on St. Patrick's Day. We worked together for ten years, through strikes and parties and day to day dramas. Davey was born with cystic fibrosis. Most days were a struggle for him, but you would never know it. His sense of humor was razor sharp and on the money. I would dissolve in tears of laughter at his comments. Sometimes, just a look was enough to get the giggles going. He listened when I had my trials and tribulations. I did the same for him. All his coworkers came to love him dearly.

The morning he died, he tried to say goodbye, but sometimes we don't want to hear it. Dave had been hospitalized many times. Although he was thirty two he still was placed in the Adolescent Unit because, at that time, most cystic fibrosis patients did not live much longer than their teens. Dave was a fighter. He raised his younger brother after their father died during open heart surgery. He walked the picket line with us. When I became management, he would call to ask how things were going, make disparaging remarks about the bosses and leave me laughing even though I had cross the line every day.

When Kris and I went into his room he told us he was too tired to fight. These were words we never heard from him before, so we made some inane comments, told him we'd be up to see him soon and went back to work. A few hours later we got the call. "Come quick, it's Davey. Hurry!" I was seven months pregnant, but I outran Kris up the stairs. "He's gone, girls. I'm so sorry."

His brother was with him at the end. There is no easy way to say farewell.

I think of Dave when someone makes just the right comment about a politician or authority figure that has it all wrong. There are so many. His dry humor and acerbic wit still echo. The thing that still touches my heart is his affection for all of us, especially his brother and his family. So, on St. Patrick's Day, this one's for you, Davey...with a little scotch on the side.

May the road rise to meet you

May the wind be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

May the rain fall soft upon your fields,

And, until we meet again,

May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

More Poets & Poetry...

Just a little addendum regarding poets and poetry...

Every day I count my blessings, and there are many. Some days I get my head wrapped around something and it is difficult for me to let it go. This may be a song, a conversation or an anxiety-provoking thought. As the day progresses many things occur to reinforce the anxiety level, which comes quite naturally to me. It is 99% in my mind. Intellectually, I get that, but it doesn't always prevent the domino effect of 'what if...'

Fortunately for me, a poem can take me to a safe place. Words soothe, they have my mind travel a different road. There may be a smile or a tear or both on the way. It is another blessing I count, as is the poet, who helps me put things in perspective...not an easy task sometimes.

Amen ;)

painting~addendum to 1985ish work

In Praise of Poets

Sirens, first one, then another, and, wait for it, a third. It is 6AM on a Sunday morning. All I want is a little more sleep. Now I am really awake. Well, not completely awake, I am just not a morning person. Like many of my peers, I must function to some extent in the early hours, but I am usually more comfortable later in the day. As I sit up in bed I can see the sun is rising. That's a good sign, but something feels a bit off. Maybe I had a strange dream...I don't remember. There has been some drama. Perhaps this is the residue. In my thoughts, out of my thoughts. Thought turns to coffee. Soon, I am holding a cup in my hand, wandering to the computer. It's quiet. My neighbors are not stomping and yelling at one another yet, a delightful reprieve from the sound of apartment living.

I check my email, reading my horoscope for the day first. There is an email saying I've been tagged by a poet. You may have visions of an early morning cybergame of hide and seek. Maybe, during the night, poets wander neighborhoods placing tags on people, much as you would band a bird. No, nothing like that. A tag is way of sharing information, in this case, a poem. I love being tagged first thing in the morning. This means the second thing I read is a poem. That is a wonderful way to begin a new day.

Let me explain, I am not a poet. I have written poems. In fact, I still write haiku a few times a week, exchanging words with a cyber-friend in Hawaii. We've done this for a few years now. Haiku suits my temperament and short attention span in the morning. Any more than seventeen syllables would be a total overload for me that early in the day. I enjoy reading poetry and listening to readings, live or recorded.

I fell into Facebook reluctantly last summer. Coincidentally, I fell in with the poets because of one book of poetry. I had been waiting for this book for a while. After hearing the poetry being read aloud, I was intrigued. I heard this book would be published soon, so I kept checking and found it in September. I read it through cover to cover. I carried it to work. I took it to Oaxaca, but I'm getting ahead of myself. After I received the book, it occurred to me the author might be on Facebook. He was, so I contacted him and we became 'friends'. Fortunately for me, he generously shared his poetry with me and other 'friends' by tagging us. As time went on, I was friended by other poets, to my delight. The many voices have their own unique way of singing out to us. For a few minutes early in the morning, during the day or late at night I am transported away from the personal drama that is daily life and taken to another place. It may be some one's home town, it may be a dark Gothic dream or maybe a waltz of words. I have had the pleasure of meeting a very wise dog and have been taken for a ride on a roller coaster of words.

If you asked me last year if I would be on Facebook I would have laughed. I'm told I have a suspicious nature. Paranoid may be the word. Not so, just careful. If you asked me if I would be reading poems every day I may have wistfully answered, no. Maybe haiku once in a while.

Isn't life grand?

picture~painted 1985ish ;)

Beneath Broken Hearts

General Weekly Love Horoscope Influences

There is a sense of anticipation as well as some concerns about love as the week builds toward a powerful Virgo Full Moon on Sunday. Carefully contained emotions may break loose, causing crises in some relationships and bringing revelations to others. Don't allow small details to undermine self-esteem or a partnership when a minor adjustment can have a major healing effect.

Sagittarius Horoscopes

(Nov 22 - Dec 21)

Next Week

For the Week of Feb 22nd, 2010 -- While you may want to party hardy on Friday, the planets shift into a more reserved mood on Saturday night. So, if you want to be loud, proud and out there this weekend, do it sooner than later. Demonstrating self-restraint and an ability to quietly discuss grown-up issues may not sound very exciting, but it will definitely make you a more desirable partner.

Hmmm...I don't know about a more reserved mood on Saturday night. I'm heading to the Bayou for some luscious Cajun cooking and a tall rum something blue. The motley crew is congregating for good company and a few hours of silliness in the name of camaraderie and stress relief. Self-restraint and grown-up issues will be on hold for a while, with any luck. Of course, it is supposed to snow again on Tuesday and Thursday, so who knows? That's part of winter and part of the blue mood that has settled on some of the comrades. Personally, I seem to be a bit hyperactive, which can be attributed to my normal ebb and flow and cabin fever. Let's see what a full moon does to this mix.

The good news is I've been creating a lot of art, which feels good to me. The art is for a Haitian relief project, which I'm almost ready to launch. The shrines will be for sale on Etsy, with all profits going to the Clinton Foundation for Haitian Relief . I intend to keep this going for quite a while. The people have nothing. They need basics...food, shelter, clean water and protection from dysentery and other disease borne by disaster. Whatever your politics may be, there is room for compassion for our fellow women, children and men who are working through this devastation with amazing spirit. Other artists, poets and all around good people have contributed their art and supplies for this endeavor. For that, I am most grateful. I will post all the information in the next week or two when I have a couple of more shrines complete for sale. I am loving this!

horoscope~tarot.com

pics~beneath broken hearts shrine, a work in progress~open & closed views

poetry by scott wannberg

Fear Factor

Sagittarius Horoscopes

(Nov 22 - Dec 21)Next Week

For the Week of Jan 18th, 2010 -- The slow pace you encounter in others might be a little frustrating this weekend. When you're ready to play or connect with someone you don't like to waste your time. Yet being patient is key to earning the trust required to get closer to an attractive individual. Playing it cool at first is your best chance to finally generating the heat that your heart desires.

Gawd!! I know patience is a virtue I need to cultivate. I am trying. Last night I saw The Lovely Bones with Helen. It is the kind of movie that might get you thinking about relationships in your life. We stopped at the Skyline Diner on the way home for coffee and conversation. Naturally, the conversation gravitated to relationships. The usual head scratching about the Mars/Venus thing led to more questions. At this stage of my life I thought I would have a better handle on this, but evidently, it's one of life's mysteries...at least for me. Helen smiled when I said I thought that some men were afraid of me.

"Yeah, they're afraid, very afraid. You are about as subtle as a bulldozer."

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F2cLmbCyzhE

This is true. It's that no patience thing. Most of the time, when someone is giving me information or telling me something on the job I'll ask them to cut to the chase. If I need any explanation or elaboration I'll ask. Just the facts, ma'am...or sir. It carries over to the home front and is the source of much anxiety, it seems.

You'd think I would learn from past experience. Old habits die hard. Yes, I do know a sign of insanity is expecting a different result from the same behavior...I'm working on the sanity. It puzzled me...why the fear factor?

"Most people do not jump into situations head first. You can really hurt yourself if you do. Think about it. Has this worked for you in the past?"

Helen's eyes grew wide as she stared into mine. We simultaneously burst into hysterical laughter. The obvious answer...not really.

I will never be the laid back, level headed woman who just goes about her business, waiting patiently for the universe to reveal it's answer. I will take two giant steps back, try to keep out of trouble and have more faith in the natural order of things. Well, that's what I want to do. I'm still a work in progress.

To the men I have frightened or disturbed in any way, I offer a sincere apology and some advice. Be patient with me. Once you get to know me, I'm not as terrifying as I seem to be. Well, ok, maybe I am, but you'll get used to it. Give it time.

horoscope~tarot.com

A Little Piece of My Heart

• The third day of the new year flies in on wintry wind. It sounds like a train whooshing through the streets and tree tops of Glen Oaks at full throttle. It is icy cold, penetrating layers of down and wool, like cold fingers wriggling under warm blankets. I have one outdoor errand to do...a meatball run for ingredients for a game night dish. It feels like snow could be in the very near future so it behooves me to have my supplies on hand before things get messy. I'm getting my little nest warm and cozy for this phase of winter. This is the time for indoor activities.
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• Today I'm doing some heart art. I'm putting my other projects on hold for a short time while attend to my heart. Hearts find their way into much of my art...hearts and eyes. This time I have a heart-shaped book I'll be altering with paint, paper, clay, metal, wire...you get the idea. My dear Christina from www.skybluepink.com sent some gorgeous pink and fuchsia punchinella. I am in seventh heaven...sparkles and hearts and stencils...oh my!

A few years ago I participated in a LMAO (land mail art object) exchange with a group of fellow artists at nervousness, where many of us had quite a bit of fun for a while. The concept of this exchange was simple...create an artistic representation of your heart. Any medium, any form you like, but it had to be small enough to be easily mailed anywhere in the world. I decided to use a jigsaw puzzle for my heart. I labeled each piece for a part of my life I held in my heart...people, pets, places and ideals all separate, but connected. In fact, if one piece was missing, the heart was not complete. I really liked that heart...I use a picture of it as my avatar on nervousness...but off it went to Norway. The heart I received was from the USA. It blew my mind. I opened the envelope to find a tiny matchbox shrine, covered in red paper. On top was a pearl heart. A red ribbon wrapped around the tiny container. When I slid it open I found eight iridescent beads glued to dark background paper. Then I found the note in the envelope. "These beads represent the people in my life who make up my heart. One is for my daughter, two are for my parents. The others represent the people who gave their lives defending me, including my dearest friend, the love of my life. They died in a fight for my life. I hold them in my heart for eternity, although I fear it will remain broken for eternity, too. If you should decide you don't want this heart at any time, please return it to me. Thank you." I still have that heart and keep it safe.

You never know about hearts. Some seem so full of love and joy, almost overflowing. Others seem small and dark like pieces of obsidian, hard and cold. Then there are the broken hearts...some have tiny cracks, some are fractured and pieced together again and some are torn asunder, leaving an abyss impossible to breach. Most hearts are a combination of the full and the broken. In any case, your heart has a voice. We all hear it on occasion. I think we are wise to listen to our hearts...it's that little voice people talk about when they say they should have listened. I don't have any resolutions, they are a waste of time for me. However, I decided to really listen to my heart...to ease up on the thinking for a while. As someone near and dear to me said..."you're losing your focus, lighten up, stop thinking, just go with the flow." That may be my mantra, along with 'follow your heart'.

I'm setting up my heart art...I even wrote a haiku this morning :)

My Heart Has No Name

My heart has no name

each piece holds the key to love.

Timeless roses bloom...

Got my book, got my glue, got my punchinella and I am ready to rock this heart. Crank up the music, mr. dj...maybe some Canaro tangos...I have my wire cutters...I am armed and not so dangerous. It's time for some heart to heart art <3

anonymous shrine~nervousness~2004?