Gregorian New Year...With a Blue Moon

The moon is blue this night that bridges two years.
Not in color or even in mood
It only happens every 19 years
That number is important and it is clear

Blue moons are significant
And nothing to fear
Beauty to appreciate up in the air
Take into our eyes and be thankful

There
A message
A sign
A reassurance

We are cared for
Cradled
Given bounties and blessings
And more

O moon that is blue
From me to you
I see
Behold
All below gazing at thee.

Precious...

How many of you are there Precious?
When will the world cease to crush all the precious ones like yourself?
Who will stand for you, defend you, protect you?
Do you --WILL you ever come to know how precious you trully are?
May God give those who didn't survive the ignorant evils perpetrated upon them --a glorious reception and bountiful existence in the world to come.

I'm Sorry

For words that were too harsh
For laughing when I was to be listening
For not being there in the beginning

Some say asking for forgiveness from one you have wronged is misplaced.
I don't know any other way
And i don't really care what other people say.

Not in this case anyway.

Usually sorry is not enough
But it will have to do.

Anyone who sees this
Consider it to be for you.

Gratitude

To be able to remember.
To have all my faculites --still.
To be able to give
And recieve.

For living things that delight
and amaze.

For conditions that set the sky ablaze.

For people that help me see
The variety in humanity.

For all these things, and creations
should be in my reality
God alone deserves the praise
For all that makes my days
A kaliedoscope of thoughts and feelings

Of changes, and chances to meet them.

God, unknowable but All-Knowing
Holder of all Names, but Unnamed
Provider beyond all capacity of man
To begin to understand

Leaves us to ourselves until we turn to Him
Yet all our needs for living are given.

Gratitude is a feeble word and doesn't really meet
The whole of His giving.
Life abundent for each and all
With everything to sustain it
Inward and outward
No matter how inept we my perform
He does not reclaim it.

Patiently He waits, He gives, infinitely
We chafe and blame speak profanely

He loves. He guides. He comforts with spirit.
We feel His love, His majesty, but cannot yet
Get near it.

Praise and gratitude...qualities I need.
Please God help me achieve them
With diligence and speed.

Gratitude

Endless gratitude for unknown heroes.

Thanksgiving

Giving thanks is a daily requirement for spiritual health. I see on this medium--more mention of black Friday, then the day that comes before. A clear symptom pointing to the globally rampant disease of materialism. The more we feed the creature that keeps crying, "Me,Mine,More", the stronger it gets it shoves the other sibling housed in the same heart-- "Other,ForYou,Enough" out of the nest.

Some nations have a handle on the balance of materialism and other aspects are missing. Some nations not accustomed to having a capitalistic bent, have lost all perspective and it was ruinous to their existence.

Persons, families, and on out in ever increasing ripples will do well to remember that giving thanks is a daily, spiriutal need, keeping their own greed in check and perfecting their understanding of humility. May God help me in living up to my words.

Another Argument Against Aggression

The ripple effect of perpetrating aggression or violence on someone in opposition is endless.

Capturing the hearts and minds of the 'masses' that we are attempting to 'liberate' has never, will never and can never be accomplished through any form of violence. Whether we (as f0reigners) are attempting to defend them in word or deed, or not.

If we send troops armed with skills to firm up infrastructure, upgrade medical and technical progress, agricultural successes, and educational professionals by the boatload, we may succeed.

But even those brave souls should be prepared to give their lives. If only to prove the sincerety of our commitment to a nonviolent partnership for progress.

Some say both are necessary, because the non-military personnel must be protected. I say, no go without arms and let the people's own sense of injustice rise up against those who oppose peaceful efforts.

The key is that there can be no covert activities coinciding with non-violent programs.

This is the second week of my on-line writing class.

My teacher likes my writing so much he is embarasssing me.!! The assignments have been easy and fun though.

I have to start looking for a place to get published besides self-publishing. I also need to accumulate a good size stock of prose that I can hawk to magazines or ????

Most of the prose I have to offer is either related to a very small niche --or so overdone that I wouldn't have a ghost of a chance to get in print.

Dream Scene

Jasmine and Honeysuckle mingled in the spring night air. A woman wrapped in silk fabric that breathed the fragrances and sifted the coolness of the breeze onto the fine hairs of her skin, moved through the night with silence and grace.

Hues of blue from the moonlight coated everything but the lights from the candles and oil lamps glowing orange from windows and crevices.

She made no sound, even from her sandals as she glided past pools with night lilies blooming in open-petalled embrace of the blue moonlight. The street became a path into the trees and all orange lights were now only spots in the distance. Had anyone seen her they would have found their breath taken by her beauty. Had they heard her speak they would have been astonished at her eloquence and wisdom. More so, that her voice conveyed a strength, depth, and confidence not ordinarily present in a woman's voice. It was captivating, magnetic.

Though completely covered, her hair was past her waist and every inch curly by nature and ebony in color.

Her spiritual family called her Solace of the Eyes. Some said those eyes had a mask made of light. Those who had seen this light had seen her fully expose her face, an act that was to be the harbinger of women's freedom and rise from oppression world wide for coming millenia.

Clutching a small wooden box containing a roll of parchment, she slipped through the trees and into the darkness as a sprite. The path was one which she had worn and was easily followed even in the dark for she dared not bring a lamp.

The intoxicating breath of the flowers, the lilies and the moonlight stirred her mind and moved her heart to spill forth poetry in her head as she sped along the path to her destination. Poetry to be read and understood in the language it was originally written. Poetry that would remain hidden until such time as the human heart could withstand its beauty and power. Poetry that could “transcend the murmur of syllables and sounds and rise above words and letters”… poetry borne of love beyond the understanding and grasp of the mind of common man ….until…. five centuries past the telling.

But it was not poetry in the scrolls concealed in the intricately handcarved, sandalwood box. It was not letters conceived in romantic euphoria whose secrets could not be exposed.

If the pen is mightier than the sword, and if words and thoughts are more powerful than bombs and cannons, she carried that which was more powerful than the strongest earthquake, tornado, monsoon, hurricane, tsu nami, flood, or lightening.

The papers she held were vibrating with energy, rumbling with their own forces, nearly alive with their own breath, for they held the words of an Authority sent by God. A Messenger sent after 500 years of waiting and to reign for the next 500,000 poured forth onto these Holy Scripts words that would guide all of mankind for 10,000 generations.

Power such as this, is a threat to any cleric, or government based on religious dogma.

Her life was in danger with every breath she took. She delivered the Writings to waiting souls stirred alive to the point of eagerness to die for such a Cause. The threat was so great that 10’s of thousands did die, including the beautiful poetess Tahirih.

Heading to Tempe for the Weekend

My soul mate -- Adrienne will be there and we can hug and laugh and scream and jump up and down and hug and laugh and scream...

She is God's gift to me this friend. She accepts me in all my crazy moods and in all my quirky ways of being a 'friend'. She knows first hand many of the pains I have overcome in my life and knows my part in them. She was given some particle of myself long before either of us were born, or else we ate from the same fruit. We connect across the continent without telephones or computers. Sorrows are halved and joys doubled.

Even though there is more than a decade difference in age --it doesn't show. We love the same music (mostly --we aren't clones after all), have a similar sense of humor, and many times when we are together, magic happens!!

I will post when I return to tell of the magical moments we may have shared.

At Last

I had a short but satisfying flying dream. I was about to be run over by a 55 Chevy so I lifted off the ground and moved 30 yards or so then gently lit upon the ground, softer than a ballet dancer. I was barefoot and there were stickers in the sandy soil, but I didn't pick any up in my skin. I hadn't had a flying dream in many years. A very nice, calming gift from God.

Thoughts on "The Big Bang" (not the TV show)

If the universe is expanding infinitely and some believe that it is a finite entity, how can both be true?

The Big Bang that so many taut as Truth with mathmatical proofs to back them up and quantum this and thats which are in fact still only theories --I propose this thought.

The universe expands itself to a point where it meets resistance. It did that before there was a Big Bang. The Point of Resistance gets stronger as more and more pressure is put against it. Galaxies get into a traffic jam, black holes begin to swallow more than they can spew, as soon as one particle of this massive cosmic creation peeks through the Point of Resistance, its like the single sperm breaking through the membrane of the ova. But it opens Pandoras Box and all that pressurized, angry, galactic stress is released into a larger allbeit, unknown realm in which it continues to expand.

The idea that there is expansion and contraction cycles, as though breathing is also relevant and to be considered. However, those actions can be done within the expansion realm I described.
That is, the space child can breath within this universe and the universe itself can throb. But continue to expand until it reaches the Point of Resistance.

There is a Native American story and an ancient Star Trek that depicts two brothers in eternal struggle. Two opposing forces, born of the same source (?) locked in a conflict, for should one of them win --the annhilation of the universe as we know it would take place. To the Native Amerian they are two parts of our psyche. Our humane nature and our animalistic nature and since we are both ...they are in conflict all through our individual existence. To the Star Trek writers, they were matter and anti-matter and if anti-matter won... well... there ya go! It is not clear what would happen if 'matter' won. Something ELSE to think about.

I Couldn't Stop Smiling...Except When I Was Crying

The nearby community that I claim for my own was saved from a horrendous fire last week. Pictures of flames 50 ft. high being pushed around with 50 mi. an hour wind gusts cause everyone that sees them to walk away shaking their head in wonder.

The whole town of 6000 was evacuated for three days while the planes, helicopters and ground crews worked to keep the fire from consuming any portion of our town. Police, sherriffs, and CHP patrolled for looters or 'hold outs' to keep even them safe.

When it was all over, the local Lion's Club sponsored a spaghetti dinner for all the service workers that saved every home and business.

Earlier in the summer -August, I believe, a fire started closer to my house. On the main road leading to my house just a mile away, an arsonist had started a fire. After the initial excitement of the low-flying helicopters and the DC-10 dropping red dust, adrenelin took over and I started collecting 'stuff' to take with me.

There wasn't much wind that day and the fire was out in an hour or two, but it took out the power for the rest of the day. When I went into 'town' a few days later, there were crews
still working and it was plain to see where the fire had gone and where it was heading.
Fires can move at 50 miles per hour when the wind is pushing them, and at that time, they have created their own weather and their own wind. Looking at the hillside and canyon crammed with thristy and tired brush unburned and uncleared for untold decades, it was obvious the firemen had saved my neighborhood...my house.

I rolled down my window to say thank you and a lump formed in my throat, such that I had to shout it, not sounding very grateful. I had to shout it just to get it out.

Fsst forward...last week...Friday. The big fire is over, the dinner is prepared and I show up to serve food, take out trash, whatever. I bring 3 dozen cupcakes and my husband prepared 4 dozen cookies. The Lions made the main meal and the 'community' was assigned to bring desserts.

From the moment I parked my truck, The Smile pulled my wrinkled cheeks away from their usual position. Every crewman, every helper, every moment of carrying out my task reinforced the purpose of that smile. Joy of serving, pleasure at seeing warm, familiar friends, watching the firemen enjoy the meal and hospitality kept the smile from fading.

Until, I got the ear of one particular fireman and tried to tell him about the lump that stopped me from a proper thank you. Tears welled up and again the lump tried to stop the words. The fireman put his arms around me and I listened to his beating heart for a moment. The sound cuddled my inner child and comforted her in her deepest place of being. I was finally able to thank at least one fireman. It took nearly a thousand of them to save my house...twice! And it was all I could do to thank just one...once.

I went back to serving, and The Smile took over my face once again. It wasn't one of those 'forced' smiles I usually use to reassure people that "I'm NOT depressed....REALLY!" The Smile came naturally but I couldn't control it which made it feel unnatural and not mine. But it was, and it came from the inner child's joy at being under blue sky clear of smoke, with tall pine trees untouched by flame, and the purity of heart that is present when a child tenderly and joyfully gives someone they love a freshly picked, hand-chosen flower.

Equality Does Not Mean 'Sameness"

Each wing of the bird has it's own characteristics. Each wing has a good mind, a pure heart, and communication brings about understanding. Understanding provides each the opportunity to empathize for the other. Decision making over long terms -- decades-- can only be fair and loving if everyone who is affected by it has a say.

Each wing has a different set of strengths that complement and add to the other wing.

Both are necessary for flight.

Gratitude

How can it be that we take so much for granted? The abundance of bounties available to us keeps our sense of need and fulfillment numbed. It is up to us to keep in touch with our higher self, our soul-self, to continue to be grateful for the 'small stuff'.

Experienceing the least inconvenience could be enough to trigger the gratitude button.

A close call of any description wakes those of us who have an easy life. Description of an 'easy life' in my universe is having all basic needs covered, a small group of friends that would take you in if your house burned down, and safe to the point that you can contemplate a future that encompasses years...not hours or days.

Observing a poor soul at the side of a city street spewing forth bodily fluids instills that gratitude in some of us and we sigh, "There but for the grace of God, go I."

As of Sunday evening, my gratitude for a path to my home... just the path... was foremost on my list. As the fire subsides and evacuees are allowed to return to homes untouched and a home town they hold dear, the wave of gratitude to all who sweated, strained muscles, choked on smoke, lost days of sleep, protecting this home town... this wave of gratitude is palpable and will become manifest in the form of celebration as soon as it can be arranged.

Fire on the Mountain

The plume of smoke of a 'new' fire is distinctive because it is beautiful. Unless the fire has eaten or is eating a home or vehicle, it is white. If it has consumed something other than vegetation it carries a blackness at its base that infects the whole tower. Here in the mountains, it is easy to mistake a fire plume for a welcome thunderhead-- that is unless you have learned the difference.

The difference being an inherent greediness on the part of the smoke tower, which has also mimiced a mushroom cloud. There is a sense of entitlement and undisciplined growth to the smoke. The thunderhead can roil, but intent is sensed to be urgent carrying out of duty.

After the thunderhead the sage, buckwheat, and other plantlife give praise and thanks by sending up their aromas in heady, musky, and invigorating wafts.

During a fire areas not even remotely involved suffer and choke and have eyes feeling made of sand for weeks following and the smell is distinctively that of destruction. Of dead things that had no chance to say good bye, of new things that had no chance to live a life, and of all the bad memories you ever had coming back to haunt you.

For my friends that may be reading this, we are fine, The Dude is fine (cat), and with some difficulty, I made it home last night.

There was a great deal of doubt as to whether that would be possible, but where there is a Badger -- there is a way :).

Copying the link address

Did it work?

Music, Muses and Magic

Music, Muses and Mason City, Iowa



The spirit of the time I was born in was one of kaleidoscopic changes. Music from 1949 like, “Good Night Irene”, “So Long,It’s Been Good to Know You” and “ If I Knew You Was Comin’ I’d Baked a Cake”; pure in content and intent watered the seeds that grew into the variety of music that guided my life.
Leaving computers and cell phones that can do everything but change a diaper -- behind, I recall slide shows, or even those viewers you hold up to your eyes with pictures on a wheel that moved as you pulled down a lever.
Mentally, I have a slide show of ‘my youth in Iowa’. The slides depict special buildings like the places I lived, the school I went to, the church, the farms, the library made famous in The Music Man and many outdoor scenes. There are a few teachers, and a few friends. There are the Christmas decorations, glowing on the street poles in spite of an evening snowstorm, and the owl that attached itself to the screen of our second floor apartment window.
. The parades every first Sunday in June went beyond slide show to a memory movie. Our town had band festivals with marching bands from all over Iowa and parts of Minnesota, Illinois. Anticipation burst asunder when the whistle of the first drum major blew. The sounds of brass instruments and bass and snare drums, horses whinnying and clopping, children squealing, and adults clapping and greeting long lost friends were parts of those parades.
The library, silent, however, acoustically endowed with an echo in the children’s room. Thousands of books, and other printed matter called for the attention of readers. Odors of papers and glues, decades of dust and wax greeted every nose. From every corner, counter and shelf, they tugged at your senses as soon as you walked in the door.
Smells in the library competed with the Cinemascopic view outside. The windows in the reading rooms for children and the one for adults were two stories high of clear, unobstructed pane glass. The nature walk that followed along the river next to the library provided an ever-changing view. The seasons were on display at all times out of those windows.
From the first green, Q-tip- sized buds on the century old trees, pussy willows, and wild roses in spring that lead to lilacs, and violets, and lily of the valley. Summer was in full dress with vines and bushes of unknown varieties sheltering the stone pathway to the river.
Of course, fall presented an explosion of color through that kaleidoscopic canvas, because the trees grew beyond the frame of the windows from top to bottom and past the edges. Representing the sky were miniature triangles of blue; an afterthought to the reds, oranges, and yellow and browns filling the towering windows. Colors like those inspired children like me to try to capture the fleeting glories on sheets of paper. We used finger-paints, crayons, watercolor or tempera paints trying to express the excitement those colors meant to us.
The quiet gray of winter sky blanketed the world. Snow covered all man and nature’s creations. Icy air was cracked by the staccato speech of crows and ravens, hopping along the unyielding riverbank.
When the sun appeared, it fought losing battles with bone-chilling winds and ever-present, waiting in the wings, gray amorphous beasts that roamed the sky, killing all warmth through massive passive resistance.
By persistence and the power of patience, the sun finally won those battles and drew the earth closer melting ice and snow and waking all sleeping life forms. When we looked out of the library windows on the world of nature, the lessons were presented in rhythmic, glorious and inspiring patterns.
Those patterns were imprinted on my young mind and spirit.
Now that I am a senior citizen and live in a desert, I travel widely to seek out classic signs of season change. Taking photographs, some that can be printed, and some just stay in my heart.

For My Granddaughter

There are not enough lifetimes available to us for me to be able to tell you all my heart wants you to know.

I have been through many lives while on this earth for just one lifetime. I have been poor in material and rich in spirit, ignorant of my self and wise in ways of the world, rebellious and reckless, full of anxiety, guilt and remorse. The reasons for all these states of being would fill a book that would bore you to tears. Yet, I would want you to know, that for all the suffering, sorrow, depression and years of wandering somewhat lost,
in the long run learning about myself, God, the hearts of others and all the wonders of this universe were worth the costs.

My hope for you is that you can avoid much of the negative aspects of such searching and growth, but that is too unrealistic.

I know, that whatever you choose to do with your life and whenever you decide it is truly yours and take charge of it, you will bring a special understanding and response to the changes that occur.

Let me get to know you so I can give you guidance that will fill all the right spaces and nourish your heart at just the right time. Without even 'knowing' you, I love you and will do whatever I can to show it.

You will be welcomed with loving and open hearts and arms.

Be well. Be happy. Be safe my love. Don't forget to see with you own eyes and hear with your own ears and heart. Don't forget you have the right to explore all the paths of light while loving only one lamp.

Asking God to Guide Us

Those life-changing moments when our compass spins with no direction, we ask God to guide us.
Before we find the path He wishes us to take, He nudges and we step with trepidation until we are assured He is the one guiding and protecting us from ourselves.

Sometimes when we are the most certain it is He who is directing our steps, we are in the way of His choices.

We must know our own selves well enough to know that we are not fooling our self. There are some very basic relationships in life that need to be fully explored before knowing ourself completely. Those relationships form the basis of long-term unions and it is important that we know what our role is or what we can truly create and what we are lacking, so there are no surprises.

Intimate knowledge of the one we see as our other half is also critical.

Ask each other "What do you see yourself (us) doing in 5 years, 10 years." Write down the answers in separate rooms and then compare the responses.

Ask each other " Who will make money? Who will be responsible for paying the bills?"

Ask each other, " How many children? When? What religion and spiritual upbringing will we give them?"

Ask each other, "What is the weirdest thing you ever did?" What do you think of it now?

Ask each other, "Rank in importance the following : family, work, money, religion, friends, art,
music, books, cars,.... add anything you like. List separately and compare together, discuss.

Ask each other" How shall we discipline the children? Who will have the 'last word'? Ever...

Who will decide what color to paint the living room? What kind of car to drive? Where to live?
Will we both work? How long? Will one quit a job for the other? Why? Why not?

What do you see your greatest challenge within yourself? Do you think I can/will help you with that?

These questions are for discussion and to evaluate 'life decision' compatibility. I don't suggest any answers or place ANY judgement one way or another. These are things a successful couple explore BEFORE marriage. All that and more...
If you don't think they are important...try one anyway. See where it goes.

Card Pictures

I Went To a Funeral Yesterday

So much about it was wrong.

The person was too young.

There was too much crying.

There were too many pictures

Too much music.

Too many people for the room.

It was so wrong. So long. Too long.

NUmber Nine Number nINE nUMBER nINE

The Beatles Number Nine Dream should be played all day today. All nines front and center!
Do everything nine times today. Have nine cups of coffee. Call nine friends. Adopt nine cats.
I'm known for doing too much, saying too much, writing too many words when fewer will do.
I give too much, tell too much, stay too long, arrive too early, and just don't know when to quit.
They FINALLY made a day for me when too much is just enough! Stream of consciousness has never been my favorite form of communicating, but today... let 'er rip!

Clarification of Heart blog...

God has no 'form' and no need of form. Reference to 'His most critical organ" is merely to make the argument understood. It is in no way my or Bahai representation of God.

Now. The heart has a 'mind' of it's own. Research shows it is made up of more nerves than muscle and emits hormones to communicate to the brain and other organs in order to command the body to do what it must for survival. The brain responds by telegraphing orders through the nervous system that the heart does not command.

So. The heart is the first point of action, if the heart is a hardened one and the action required consists of assisting another human being it will be ignored. Until such time as the heart's owner changes spiritually either in knowledge or action that causes growth, that heart will be isolated from knowledge of God.

Heart of Hearts

The cells of the heart begin to function as soon as they are differentiated from the others.
That cell --and any cell from your heart that can be separated out will beat all by itself.

The mystery remains --why is this so?
Why would a cell, the smallest possible representation of the object itself, function singly, and alone?

For it to be the first identifiable functional cell in the human body is fascinating, and the logic behind it is clear.

But for a cell to do it's job in seclusion from its (pardon the phrase) collective, is not so logical.

One could conclude that perhaps we, human beings, are all cells in the heart of God and taken singly can function. Except God has no such interdependent need of us. None whatsoever, never mind needing us to complete his most critical organ.

So what could the connection be?
In my opinion, it is grace. Bountiful grace.
God made His creation to be completely independent from Him. The blessing and the curse of free will. In order for the physical to be separate and be able to function without His interference, He made it operate from the first cell intended to become a heart.

Dream Dictionary

Dream dictionarys espouse many different agendas. I searched many of them and found them wanting. However, I did settle on one that seemed to be in tune with my frame of references.
All of the interpretations of symbols are looked at from a spiritual point of view --not physical.

Its called Do You Dream? It may be out of print, but it is the best source I found and I looked at many, many of them in book stores and online.

I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to share my 'life-changing' dreams with you. There are few.

The name David means Beloved of God.

Faith cannot be proven except through sacrifice

Baha'u'llah's life and the lives of His followers and their martyrdom is the proof of Faith. There is no other proof. The same Spirit that Christ embodied is the one that Baha'u'llah housed. The personalities were different, the times were different, but the meaning, authority, and destiny empowered in Their words and lives came from the same Source. They both turn our direction from themselves to God.

A Bahai that trully believes what Baha'u'llah says and who He is, is also a believer in Jesus Christ. There is no denial of the station of Christ or of any of His words of wisdom and guidance.
By not becoming a member of a 'denomination' you are not denying Christ. You maintain a wider scope of inclusion by excluding none of the Messengers.

I have been coming across references to "the letter and the spirit of the law"...and thought about where the 'line' is. There are some lines that are obvious (at least to me) that we must try not to cross. There are some that require holding fast to the letter of the law.

I believe, it would be more fortuitous for you to abide by family wishes until such time as it is clear that another path is open to you. But, what I believe and what is truly right for you could be very different. "Abiding by family wishes" means of course, if your uncle's heart is breaking because he thinks your soul is eternally damned and needs saving, by all means ease his pain.

You also have books you can share with him while you are reading The Bible.

You need not, 'undeclare' to maintain harmony.

All that being said, don't use this quandry as an excuse to become distracted from your studies. Do what you must to bring quiet to your mind and focus on your education.
End of lecture.

This Is a Broken Winged Bird

My flight is very slow. Assist me so that I may fly to the apex of prosperity and salvation
Wing my way with the utmost joy and happiness throughout the illimitable space. Raise my melody in Thy Supreme Name throughout all the regions, exhilerate the ears with this call and brighten the eyes by beholding the Signs of Thy Guidance.

O Lord! I am single, alone, and lowly for me there is no helper except Thee, no sustainer beside Thee, no support save Thee. Confirm me in Thy service, assist me with the cohorts of Thine angels, suffer me to speak out Thy wisdom amongst Thy creatures.

Verily, Thou art the helper of the poor and the defender of the little ones.
Verily, Thou are the Mighty, the Powerful, the Unconstrained.

The Sun Is Now In Virgo

The Virgo month slips by faster than any other for some reason. When I was younger, I had a month of Virgo friends. Strange how we gravitated together and managed to tolerate each others idiosyncracies -- for the most part anyway.

A few of us have passed on, a few of us have moved and left no trace to be followed.

We used to have a party when the moon was full in Virgo -- usually when the sun was in Pisces.
And we would 'host' a huge Thanksgiving shindig for the extended circle of friends that included Capricorn, Aquarius, Scorpio, Libra, Leo, Taurus...

Let's see how quickly Virgo slips by this time.

Second Time Around

Actually, since a body is said to have replaced it entire collection of cells every eight years --this is my 9th time around.

As my grandmother once said, when someone 'accused' her of being in her second childhood...
"I'm not done with the first one yet." And she was past her 10th time around. (70's)

So like many other things, most of which should not be discussed, it runs in the family to be emotionally underdeveloped. I was a special ed teacher for several years and still can't bring myself to use the term 'retarded' for any purpose. I did once, and it resonated in my brain in a wave of 'bad vibe' bouncing all through my self-image for a long, long, long, long time.

What, if anything in the entire universe stops at only 'second time' around? I only had two kids --but was pregnant three times and miscarried at least once after my second son. Re-gifting can send an item circulating for generations.

As I get used to this blogging...hopefully the messages will improve, but I won't promise.

My First time...

Blogging that is.



Choosing a name was harder than I thought it would be. I wanted Bahai in it, and the rest was a search for an acceptable literation.



The butterfly is to some native Americans -- the symbol of eternal life. It is simple to create in art of painting, weaving, beading... two triangles with points touching ><>

Our writing group, is enthusiastic about meeting once a week.

There was a car show up here over the weekend.