Deer observations

For the last two nights the deer around my house have been having secret meetings...
and avoiding me...
If you think people are fickle, deer are far worse...
This is the tribe I fed apples to all winter.....

Are they angry about the big brown bear that has been coming around at night ?
no answers only questions..
mulling it over, I think it's the bear issue...
maybe he's a Republican
and they think I've switched parties...

Can't figure people out
Now deer !!!!!!

I think I'll stick with squirrels
as long as you overfeed them they are ever faithful..

Lana G.

New Revision

Let Us Touch Your Sword

The five of us fish
in Micronesia. But we are one:
We have
Marilyn’s’ lipsticked face
her breezy sex appeal

We have
become her multiplied-- five sirens
stamped and printed,
Saying See Us Please


Andy Warhol printed Marilyn Monroe’s
face in silkscreen over and over and we
are that That Icon


We lean over the boat
Pose like pinups.
letting the breeze
carry skirts and scarves

letting it all
float and hum over the warm sea.


Marilyn sang Happy Birthday to Jack,
and we sing to the sailfish,
King of the Ocean

love you, love, come here, love you mighty sail fish, let us touch, your sword

The Sailfish hears us, swims to us, we lure him up, we pull him in, lift him over!


Let it be stamped on silk

Let it be said---We five, We sexy sirens lipsticked up

That one, this one, that one, this one, And We

Caught
The biggest fish ever in these South Seas!
.

Going Bonkers while wearing Das Boot

Entering week two of the healing process. Trying to be one with slowing down, with reading, with my writing.

Managed to get posion ivy from my 8 foot garden..at first I could not believe it was poison ivy; Where had I been, nowhere; it must be an allergy--the blueberries in my pomeganate juice; peanuts, wheat, the boot! And then I saw it..some horror music please. the dreaded three leaves peeking out of a chrysanthemum plant--Aha!

So another lesson: slow down, be more vigilant, but don't become overly cautious, don't become your parents.

Helping in my wisdom journey: FRom Shawn Harrison, Yoga teacher

Chant:Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha

As you know – invoking the energy of removing obstacles and protecting new beginnings. Set an intention in relation to this before chanting (ex. removing the obstacle of pain in your foot and accepting that this is a cocoon period for a wonderful new beginning when the healing is done). Chant 9, 18, 27… anything divisible by 9 or 108 times.

So yesterday, I chanted 72 times--try it. It's cool.

Dreams

Dreams are born, dreams die, a new dream is birthing...

Where did they go

the heroes of the sixties


and their band of ragtag followers ?


hunted animals
panting to survive


surrounded by nigger bodies

hanging lifeless
from southern trees



they succumbed

to well aimed bullets



guns loaded carefully

sights aimed at their targets

by professional sharpshooters



enter the love assassins


how many bullets did it take

per hero all told

to kill the dream

for JFK ?

brain splattered over Jackie's designer suit


for Martin ?

bleeding from the head onto the motel floorboards

for Bobby ?

lying on the kitchen floor lifeless

for John Lennon ?

stilled forever in the grimy blood spattered street



so many bullets

yet the first one sealed their fate


a motorcade in Dallas

a motel in Memphis

a restaurant kitchen in San Francisco

a street in New York City


war zones

I like to think they died in peace..

Jack in triumph

Martin with friends...

Bobby having just won the nomination

John off for a nice walk...



all fell victim to the element

of surprise and

bullets perfectly aimed



Yet I will not surrender

to the tsunami of fear in my brain....

I cling to the life raft of hope

like a passenger on the Titanic


Lana G

Ridng bikes in high heels - part 2

Riding bikes in high heels

When I get out in the morning I hop on my bike. And I go. I love being back on the bike. In Copenhagen biking is integrated into everyday life and it defines people to a great extend. People of all ages and backgrounds bike to and from work and social activities. I feel so free and connected to people when I´m on the bike. I feel I have wings. Like a bird close to the earth. I didn´t realize until I actually was back on my bike how much biking is integrated in me. For most of my life in the US I traveled by car. Or sometimes bus. Like pretty much everyone else there. The thing I have noticed about biking versus 4 wheels is that you travel at your own speed since you are the engine. I´ve notices that I notice more and that my conscience feels more expanded because I take in more slowly all the things that I see. I get to where I need to in time and I feel calm. On the bike I never get agitated because I´m never stuck in traffic. There is a continuous flow that I believe flows along with my consciousness. So in a way I´m doing a mindfulness practice when I´m biking. I also feel very supported in my daily tasks because the collective consciousness is embracing biking. Bike lanes everywhere, you can take your bike on the train for free. It´s all about encouraging biking. And what I really love is that women get in their high heels and hop on the bike. So you can be stylish and ride your bike at the same time. Sweet.

Flying Pen

Spent a long time with the journal under a stack of books. No courage to catch the pen and soar with it to a place of easy breath. Now the flight is emerging and it clears up the mind and soul. The ink is flowing and the sight is blinding. Finally a place to examine all the levels of grey matter twirling in a mass. It begins. It is all about me.

On Mothers Day

It was Mothers Day lunch, at Donna's house, a group of women, none really young. She spoke of her own mother, dead a long, long time, yet still a comforting presence, regularly giving advice and reassurance. Charlotte told of how when she was young, her Grandmother, dead just a few weeks, came to her in a dream to tell her how to find a family ring her own mother desperately wanted. I thought of my mother, gone for seventeen years—can it possibly be seventeen? She was born in 1911 so this July, she would have been 99. She doesn't talk to me or come in my dreams. I wish she would but perhaps it is I who blocks the gate. Maybe I don't let her come. Possibly, I haven't wanted to hear what she would say.
She died old, ill and shriveled, husband and son gone before, taking something of her essence with them but I could still make her laugh. Aphasia troubled her: when words refused to be found and meaning got lost we would take a long elliptical word-journey together, laughing at this absurdity of talking around and around a mystery thought before we could swoop down like a crow to peck the right word out of the dusty jumble of references to things remembered, people long gone, dogs, cars, clothes and scents. Triumph! A right word pulled the meaning together and Mother knew what she meant: she wasn't actually lost. It was just that expressing herself had become tangled and elusive but when I could help her, it was a pleasure. Together we wandered through her life, remembering and revisiting. Today I find want to look forward but I didn't mind that then and I seldom felt stifled by looking back. Perhaps I knew that soon enough, the need would be gone and this was something I could do for her. Her memories, or my version of them, are now mine. They are what I have left but I think I'm ready to hear what she has to say. I hope she comes.

Thanks, Donna and Charlotte.