March 10, 2002 A

"Always Time To Learn"

Today's title is from yesterday's test and the chosen motto: There's always time to learn more.

The gist of it came back to me in a poem:

Each Moment Is Another Chance And if I have regrets, it is for the unspoken word that's still heard, that screams in the walk, in the frown, angry and loud, it could still shrill the ear. How the angry, Why the angry? We are like the grasping little child. We want, and it is never enough. How to hold what is yours, and not reach for what is not. How to stop the reaching. But the sages have studied this for ages. Some learn. Maybe I shall too. Each moment is another chance to learn. Each moment, as it comes, is clean and pure. I will reach for each moment. I can learn. JAL, 3 - 9 - 02

I did not know as I was typing the poem above, Laura was standing silently and reading. ''Good poem, what's the story behind it?'', she asked. You readers are no doubt wondering, as well.

It's a long story. Don't you HATE stories that start that way? You see, LAURA does have some idea of what went on to cause that poem. She's probably just taunting me to see if I will explain it. I've always in the past just dumped such mysterious things and left the reader to wonder. They'd get the idea some nasty incident went on, and that's about it.

Joan has a pout-fest! Never mind, it lasted only a few seconds. My childish displeasure was non the less observed, and thus a few seconds too long.

After a few days of diet relaxation, Laura re-affirmed her desire to lose weight. It is, after all, besides the copious amounts of pills and puffers, the only thing that will ease the strain on her heart and lungs.

We then went to a movie. Laura had picked it by using 'Rotten Tomatoes' website. Most every new movie was reviewed as bad, 'rotten', 'not fresh'. One called Monster's Ball was the rare exception. So we bypassed the remake of 'The Time Machine' and went to this movie. Harrowing reality, it was. Sad, hard truths and not nice people. But there are redemptive factors, and the movie ends on a more optimistic note. It's a good movie, really it is.

But this entry isn't about a movie review, is it? No, this movie is significant in another way. The main character, played by Billy Bob Thornton, has quite a taste for chocolate ice cream. He's always having a huge bowl of it. For some reason, he likes to eat it with a plastic spoon, but that's beside the point.

It's really an artistic device. See, Thornton is white, and he falls in love with a black woman, played by Halle Berry. Dark brown FOODS feature all through the movie. Coca Cola must have paid the movie makers a fortune, as their logo and drink feature through out. Chocolate candy bars are eaten voraciously by the woman's heavy son. But mostly, it's chocolate ice cream.

I left that movie with a terrible craving for chocolate ice cream. To add to this temptation, we had to go to the grocery store afterwards, as we had no milk in the house, and not much fruit. There we were in the store, and every chocolate thing called out to me. However, Laura, valiantly fighting the battle of the bulge, didn't want any chocolate temptations in the house. I COULD have such things if not in sight of Laura, if she had no knowledge of it. I'd put a jug of chocolate milk in the basket. However there's no avoiding the knowledge of a big jug of chocolate milk that greets the eye every time the refrigerator door is opened. So I agreed to put it back in the store's cooler. But NOT HAPPILY, I might add. With the petulant glower of a six year old who's been told no, I even angrily crammed it back onto the rack.

And thus began a very unhappy night in our household. It ended resolved. I wrote the poem, encouraged by the thought that next time, I shall learn to control the 'monkey brain'. And that's always the point of life, 'there's always time to learn more' and better.

Today will be a better day.

 

March 10, 2002 B

"Monkey Brain"

Bananas for me! Bananas for me! Bananas for me! All for me and none for thee! Hee! Hee! Hee!

 

March 12, 2002

"Glowy Optimism"

Feeling calm, unexpected peace, I enjoy the happy reprieve of lightness. Laura had a better day and was able to walk quite a distance without chest pain. Julia had a promising job interview, which may be productive. They want her to call back, which is hopeful.

I sewed and finished an amazingly high pile of clothes. The manager came into the sewing room, and smiled to see the progress I'd made with the load. My production should be consistantly faster since I discovered a quicker method on one type of job, which will enable me to sew without using pins.

Not only that, Laura's son Anton is coming to visit tomorrow. We are looking forward to seeing him, although we wish he weren't having some troubles in his life. Hopefully our support and encouragement will ease his difficulties.

The day has been a good one. The only disappointing thing is we were not able to tape 'Angel' last night. We've just learned which station here airs the program about the handsome vampire 'with a soul'. It shows a bit later than we want to stay up, but felt secure with our VCR recorder. But, alas, we were let down. Perhaps there was something wrong at the station. We recorded an extremely long series of commercials, and then were dismayed to find two reruns of 'Seinfield'.

The good news is the summer re-runs of 'Angel' won't be re-runs for us. Almost always, there's the bright side.

Back to that calm peace I felt earlier. I felt a glowy optimism that there might be a poem lurking inside me, earlier this evening. Maybe I like it. I'll know better after a few days, but I'm going to inflict it upon you tonight, anyway.

Ask What You Want You can ask what you want, the universe will listen. All wide, the listening ear, wide as space. This does not mean you will get an answer, or know if you've been answered. You may wonder. But silent breaths of yawning space will hold your question. Will it always be so? Spirit-shout to the corners, spirit, sing with the corners, spirit, sing, and then you may find the corners of your flesh-mouth opening, transcribing what spirit has heard, transcribing into a language another being such as yourself may hear. Start large, start small, but start. JAL, 3 - 12 - 02

 

March 16, 2002

"Yum!"

So how did that poem look 'the morning after'? I still liked it. Four days later, I still like it. So I created an illustration for it. Naturally, Laura seeing me busy with Picture Publisher, wanted to know why I was working with such an image.

Feeling reasonably confident of the poem, I let her read it. If she claimed it was 'too mystical', I could explain that the practical, 'transcribing what spirit has heard', is the end result. But she LIKED IT, all except the last three lines. ''An unnecessary tag-on'', she said. ''You've said it so eloquently, those lines are a preachy waste.''

Next step, ''Oh, JULIA!! What do you think of this poem?'' She agreed with Laura, the last three lines were superflueous.

So I stared at the poem, flipping back and forth between one version with those three lines, and one without. It did seem more powerful with them gone, so that's the version I chose for the poetry pages.

But I haven't spent all day at the computer. Earlier today, we went grocery shopping. We learned of a lovely produce store from some people in the Unitarian Universalist church, so that was our destination. Big, fat raisins, triple the size of ordinary raisins await my tasting. Already, I have sampled the fresh asparagus and avocados. Delicious! Behold the size of the strawberries in the picture below:

And they are SWEET, too!

YUM!  

March 18, 2002

"Better This Morning"

Yesterday was not such a good day. Laura had had a bad night, with much coughing and panic attacks. Not being able to breathe well, she sometimes panics. The panic reaction further robs her breath, making a vicious circle. Sleep isn't possible, then. If she is able to have a decent night's sleep, her day is much better. But with little sleep, the panic continued in the day. She tried to distract herself by playing computer games.

I, meanwhile, got a good bit of web work done. In the morning, I made use of Google's site search. Needing to change the name of someone who'd appeared quite often in our past, it was convenient to find all the references by imputing the name into its engine. Then I'd follow the link, pull up the source code using Note Pad, use the 'find' command, change the name, do a 'save as', and send each up via FTP, refreshing the file on the web to make sure all such references to the old name were indeed gone.

Profitable activity, that. Later, while Laura ventured in Everquest, I did a bit of tidy-up work on my poetry pages. All of the pages now have pretty color co-ordinated scroll bars.

That was not the only web work I did. We'd seen a computer expert on a TV show a few days ago who recommended monthly back-ups. I'd been rather slack in this regard, trusting always to replace our files from those out on the web. Pulling out the two CD-roms, I discovered I'd made one in May of 2000, and another in May of 2001. It was about time for the once a year job! Ridiculous, really, to wait so long, since we finally have a decent disk writer. The one made in 2000 took forever, as our computer then was much too slow, with constant 'buffer under runs'. Or something like that. Anyway, one disk took HOURS. In about a half hour yesterday, I had TWO back up disks made. Maybe I'll remember to do it more often in the future.

But mostly, the day was clouded over with gloom. We always worry about Laura when she's not feeling good. With frequent hugs and caresses, we tried to comfort her as best we could. This may have helped, for Laura and I did get a nice nap together in the late afternoon, while Julia had her turn at the computer.

After waking, before evening, testing the waters of the poem-source, however, I pulled out a gloomy thing:

What Fire? Weariness, like a heavy blanket you can't kick off, has settled into me. Who knows the winter of the soul? Nigh unto spring, but I feel only a chill. My blankets are not warm, they are only heavy. And I want to sleep. All around me are the visages of death. They stare at me from their not-so-hidden lairs. I feel their eyes, constant, staring, never blinking. They never sleep, either. 'If looks could kill', and theirs often do. The hours march slowly. What fire can I light? JAL, 3 - 17 - 02

Our evening was a bit cheerier, though. By reading the TV Guide that comes with the Sunday paper, I'd learned of a special on TV. The fable Snow White had been done anew, by the Hallmark people. They'd done such a nice job with Arabian Nights, I was curious about this new rendering. Kristin Kreuk, the dark haired lovely lady that plays the young Clark Kent's wistful love interest in Smallville, starred as Snow White. She has a bit more spirit than the average fairy-tale lass. Perfect, it was, with many imaginative touches. The wicked stepmother gains control over people's affection with shards of her magical mirror. Snow White's father is always rubbing his eye. He does not know why it always feels irritated, but one day the tiny piece falls out, and it is as if he's seeing for the first time. The vain woman's circular ring of mirrors no longer reports her as 'the fairest in the land'. However, the seven dwarves, named for the seven days of the week, and dressed in rainbow colors, come to the fairest Snow White's aid. They are all cute, played by real-life short people, except for Wednesday, who makes a rather clumsy tall dwarf, dressed in yellow . 'Wednesday's child is full of woe', and true to form, he's always woeful. Played by the actor who starred in Galaxy Quest as 'Dr Lazarus', Alan Rickman brings his able long face to the task.

Laura, hopeful of this night's good sleep, and lacking any of those sleeping pills, broke with strict diet, and bought some Cabernet Sauvignon wine. A small portion might relax her, she reasoned. It was a tasty version, made in Australia. I even had a couple of ounces, savoring each throat warming sip slowly.

It seemed to help, along with an adjustment in Laura's nighttime pills. She has had a full night's sleep, and feels much better this morning. We look forward to a better day.

 

March 21, 2002

"Not One Swallow Wasted"

The first official day of Spring, but I suppose it matters not, when you've been living in 'Spring' for some months now. Actually, it IS the harbinger of something, however. Not gentle 'Springtime' weather, but the beginnings of the torrid heat that is characteristic of the southwest deserts. 'Winter residents', ie 'Snowbirds', are taking flight for places with more tepid summers. Not that I blame them, it must be interesting to split the year between two places, absorbing the culture of both.

Us 'Zonies' will just keep on toughing it out. That's what they call us in San Diego, where we sunbaked people go in summer for heat relief. I suspect we'll have a trip there this summer, ourselves, especially since it is a few hours closer, now that we've moved to Yuma.

taken on a San Diego visit a few years back

taken on my first visit there. Note my great exuberance!

Yes, such lovely memories we have of our 'heat relief' there!

This morning, however, the house still has a slight chill. We have woken to a good morning, though. Laura's 'better morning' continued into the 'better day', and Laura has felt good ever since. Yesterday, she and Julia even walked all the way around the foot path at Smucker Park, ONE WHOLE MILE!

It was with happy optimism we greeted our friends at the Chess Club last night. Laura's lost twenty five pounds, and her face glowed with happiness. Some of those friends we'll not see again until October, and it was good to feel confident that she'll be around to see them when they return. Laura's had some shaky times, indeed.

With that burst of optimism, we all feel renewed. When I tested the muse-waters, I pulled out a happy result:

It All Lips to the potion of life, we will drink it all, deep, not one swallow wasted. What other way is there to live life? No tiny sips for me, I will drink it all. JAL, 3 - 20 - 02

This poem COULD have been influenced, too, by the way I savor those Tazoberry slushies that are served at the Chess Club's meeting place, the Starbucks within Barnes and Noble. I don't waste one swallow. I even take my finger and get the whipped cream that coats the side of the glass once the drink is gone. I get it all!

 

March 22, 2002 - A

"Where It Must Begin - Part One"

Feeling a calling to sit down and be quiet within myself, I am drawn to it easily. How can I deny what comes easily? Spirit wants this moment and so it shall have it. Glad of my own ear's calling, I don't need to follow leaders. I may, for a time, be drawn to their drum, but then, like as not, something else will attract, and off I'm on my rambling journey. It's been such an interesting journey, and I look forward to what lies ahead. What's around the corner?

More importantly, what's now? I can only find that by looking within. And so, there is the need for quietness. Quiet spirit, calm spirit, breathing deeply of this moment. I cannot know who I am, without knowing who I've been. All the pieces together form the whole.

This whole, this now is the sum total of all the past 'nows'. I give honor to all from whom I'm gathered wisdom. Fellow travellers on the path may indeed teach what they have discovered. How do I define what I have discovered on this path? Certainly, it gives rise to some of my poems. But always, I am grateful for the eyes. The seeking comes from a pure heart. Oh, not that I haven't made mistakes, and will continue to make them. But every day is a chance to start anew. And for that, I am grateful.

Each day is a chance to say 'What can I learn?' 'How can I help?' 'What will ease the way?' We are each a part of the whole, what we add is uniquely ours. This I remember from my youth, ''To thy ownself be true''. Advice it was from my Mother, who heard it from Shakespeare. No philosopher he, a writer instead. But, really, everyone is a philosopher. It shows in their life what their philosophy is.

There's an odd country-western song about a man who is anticipating 'a three-day weekend'. He got his long weekend dishonorably, by claiming his back was sore. Nevertheless, he celebrates ''I Don't Have to Be Me ('Til Monday)'' (Steve Azar). I understand the need for a break from work stress, but I wonder at how he defines himself? We should ALWAYS 'be ourselves'. This should not be a stressful thing. Rather more, what GIVES stress is the feeling we can't truly be ourselves. Laura spoke of the three of us the other night that one characteristic we all have is that 'we are comfortable in the world'. This was not always so for me. I used to be ashamed to be shy, ashamed to be nervous, ashamed of this, ashamed of that . . .

One of the greatest joys of my middle years is that I have put most of that behind me. It, however, was not easily learned. I had to come to it in dribbles and drabs. I may yet learn further of this peace of self. Somehow, when I do, I think I may be able to transmit to others a sense of peace. For, I find that I am always more comfortable when I'm around a person who is comfortable with their self. It is sometimes in small ways that the world can be changed.

And some days, it's the small ways that count. I may count with my fingers, and I may add only small numbers, but maybe somedays, a big number gets in there. I bring to it my heart, in any case. And in any evaluation, that's where it must begin.

 

March 22, 2002 - B

"Where It Must Begin - Part Two"

While I was busy at my computer, Laura was busy at her computer, typing. She often makes posts to various lists, so I didn't think much of it. However, she then read her post, and I was amazed at the similarity of thought to the entry I had just made.

Particularily salient are her lines:

''Those who are elders, who give themselves titles, have earned them ... but they are not above you, nor below you. Except that we have lived more years and had more experience we are but kindred. The best of us will tell you the same, FOLLOW YOUR HEART.

Listen to others, draw from their experience, extract the essense of what is good from what they have to say and from what they do ... as you do, as you become more you, the magick will grow stronger, the romance will deepen, the excitement will be ... delightful.

At the end, she reinforces this point:

The HEART of it all ... is you.

Here is her post in its entirety, as sent to the Yuma Pagan Network: