I've been trying to apply some of my Tao and yoga meditation to my life in general, observing my feelings, my body, my children, my family and friends, strangers even. Sometimes I do well, observing myself and others without judgment. But often I don't observe my own reaction until it has stomped off in a direction I hadn't intended.

I sat at my first deathbed vigil recently. I suppose I am blessed to have gotten this far in my life without having done that. It was unexpectedly inspiring. I feel like, for the first time, I am considering the whole possible span of my life. I wonder what thoughts will meander through my mind my last minutes of this life. I am aware of the impact of my choices on my own peace and that of others. I am enjoying the relationships I have more recently, despite the various stresses each relationship presents. I am trying to collect wonderful memories. I have many already. Am I greedy to want more? I think love just expands.

When you are young, you can barely see past the next grade in school. Maybe some people made a career path in high school, but who knew everything that would happen, plans or not. Now, from mid-point in the journey, I am considering how I want Part Two of my life to roll out. I am more aware now that I need to hold any plans loosely. I think what I want to be when I grow up is peaceful.

I've been tagged to do a MiMe: a minimalist memoir. The rules are as follows:
1. Write your own six-word memoir
2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like.
3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post.
4. Tag five more blogs with links.
5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!


So here's me:

Cosmic Gypsy
enjoying life's beautiful adventure


I'd love to hear one from
Mark
Anne
Julie
Dan
and Yolinna

(Greeny, John, & Mom were already tagged.)

I volunteered to run an art project for my daughter's fourth grade class and was given the theme of Japan. I planned a simple, pretty painting project of cherry blossoms and started with a great children's book called Zen Shorts.
Without really thinking about it, I found myself leading these children to consider some principles of Zen. I'm no expert, I just liked this book. Here is a paraphrase of the favorite Zen Short.

The Farmer's Luck

A farmer worked his crops for many years. One day, his only horse ran away. His neighbors came over, shaking their heads and said, "Such bad luck!"
"Maybe," said the farmer.

The next day, the horse returned with two wild horses. The farmer's neighbors came over and exclaimed, "Such good luck!"
"Maybe," said the farmer.

The next day, the farmer's son tried riding one of the wild horses and was thrown, breaking his leg. Again the neighbors came over and said, "Such bad luck!"
"Maybe," said the farmer.

The next day, military officers came through the village to draft young men into to army and head off to war. They saw the young man's broken leg and passed him over. "Such good luck!" his neighbors exclaimed.
"Maybe," said the farmer.

I am tired of being the grown up. I want a ticket to Never Never Land.

I don't want to spend another moment thinking about my escrow account, my basement drainage, my taxes, that stack of unfiled bill receipts, how much money is left on my line of credit, or the clanking sound my dryer is making.

It's beautiful outside and I'd rather be battling pirates or photographing mermaids.




I loved this movie. Peter Pan is such a loaded story. Cool song too.

The new show in our house is Ninja Warrior on the channel G4. My son found it and now we have Japanese announcers excitedly shouting in our home. It took a while before I finally started reading the subtitles, which are often amusing. This clip (my first experiment in embedding video) doesn't have the subtitles.

Have you guys seen this? The accidents can be brutal. The tension is addicting. It's very entertaining.

I can't remember if I said it on my blog, but I know in conversation that I have compared my current feelings about raising my children, edging into teenage-hood, to the time when the tide recedes from the beach before the tsunami hurls in. I know it's coming soon, but it's not here yet.

This weekend felt like the tides began to turn and the waves are headed for shore.

Nothing terrible. All manageable. All, in a way expected. This weekend just felt like an onslaught for me. Combine that with the first weekend of cookie booths for the girls scouts, a cat with a malicious pee-ing habit, and you can see why I took a nap today.

Aahh, a tall glass of Chardonnay and my book...

My sweetheart did ride in on the first wave, helped cook dinner and shuffle kids in order to take me to the Baltimore symphony. It was wonderful once we finally slogged our way there. They played the score to a Charlie Chaplin movie that they showed: City Lights 1931. I had never seen a whole Chaplain movie before. (Technically I still haven't because the two martinis and the warm theater made for a moment or two of drowsing.)

I thought it was just me.

Did anyone see the survey of American religions that was published in the Washington Post yesterday? This "Religious Landscape Survey" conducted by the Pew Forum of Religious and Public Life, asked 35K American adults about their religion. They determined that
- 40% of Americans have changed their religious affiliation since childhood
- Both Protestants & Catholics are losing membership
- The "religious nones" are growing with people who consider themselves "Spiritual but not religious"

I live in such a diverse area that I was surprised at the low % of Jewish, Muslim, Buddhists in America. I know more and more people who are merging Buddhism with their Christianity.

Does this all mean that people are thinking more? or that we are less committed?

I should probably get a new computer. My five year old laptop is having increasing issues and doesn't keep up with my new business involving lots of photography and advertisement graphics. My kids are all campaigning for more access, and if anyone is getting a new computer around here, it's gonna be me.

Two of my main tech support allies are recommending a Mac, as is the art editor of the magazine. Everyone says I will never regret it. But will all my stuff convert? Will I still be able to network with my old computer?

I am so intimidated by new learning curves, especially where technology is concerned. Generally, I underutilize all my technology: camera, microwave, iTunes, cell phone, computers. I hate taking time to re-learn simple things on a new system. I just want to e-mail something, make an invoice, or attach a photo. I'll have to re-learn everything.

I walked into an Apple store and tried fiddling with a sample Mac laptop. No right click on the mouse. Where is all that stuff? I felt myself start to constrict, like when you call HP tech support and they say you have to call Verizon who says it is a MicroSoft problem. ack!

I walked out of the store and decided to decide later.

My home office wasn't quite as peaceful today as it often is. I am so sick of my basement flooding during a downpour that drastic measures were called for. These measures required a noisy jackhammer and a cloud of dust. The handsome young jackhammerer was added bonus.



This young man and his coworker/father have been re-siding my house for the last couple weeks, despite the cold and windy weather. My 14 year old has been bringing a friend home and working at the kitchen table, I suspect to watch the jackhammerer walking around our backyard. I wonder if he realizes he's being watched.

Tonight in Girls Scouts Lexie ate some King Cake, a Mardi Gras tradition that I just learned about this year. Apparently a tiny baby Jesus is cooked into the bread. Lexie was the lucky ingester of Our Baby Lord.
Is that transubstantiation?
Does it even count as communion if the bread is sprinkled with purple sugar and wearing Mardi Gras beads?
I think yes. I think she is redeemed of shattering Jesus last Christmas. We had a replacement Jesus made out of Model Magic that looked a little like Mr. Bill for a while.

On Thursday, I have to give a 10 minute presentation on myself to the business networking group that I joined at my sister's invitation. Next week, I'll have the same time slot to talk about the magazine. That will be easy.

Giving a 10 minute presentation on yourself is kind of a weird thing to do when you think about it. Especially since we're on the second round - and it isn't church or therapy. The first time, my sister & I went together. We invited our mom. Between my sister and my mom, I didn't have to say much, which was kind of cheating. So this time, I have to say more.

The guy who went last week did his automotive history, describing the various cars he's owned throughout his life up 'til now. It was a fun idea and got everyone reminiscing. So I was thinking of using the same approach: the history of my life through....what?
Schools I've attended?
Jobs I've had?
Bands I like?

What?

Do you believe in old home remedies or have any that work for you?

I dated a guy who said, and believed, that if you rubbed a potato peel on your wart, then threw away the peel outside and never looked back at the peel, that your wart would be gone by the time the peel biodegraded.

I ask because I went to a Naturopathic doctor about my ankle. She prescribed castor oil packs for my ankle. I'm to cut the toes off a tube sock, soak it in castor oil, pull it over my injured ankle, wrap it in plastic, and sleep in that for, I can't remember, a few weeks.

So I tried it, although it seemed real weird. Oddly, my ankle did feel better on the first morning. I think it had to do with the warmth trapped in by the plastic. It doesn't appear to be harmful, although it isn't very sexy. So I'm trying it.

What weird medicine have you tried?

Set in the last half of the 14th century, World Without End by Ken Follet is the story of the lives of the citizens of the imaginary town of Kingsbridge in England, the setting of his previous epic, Pillars of the Earth. WWE follows the lives of some of the descendants of his previous tome. I wished it hadn’t been so long since I read Pillars. Some of my details are foggy, but the feel of the two books were the same.

I remember wondering if the sex and violence in Pillars were gratuitous or necessary. Follet continues as a master of vivid description, which can be startling in the sex and violence scenes. The battles and fights, with their knives and swords and arrows, seem much more disturbing than gunshots, the damage done more horrific. And the punishments dispensed by the priests! I wanted to look away, but it was a book. I hated to keep reading, but I couldn’t put it down.

I think those details, however grisly, are necessary to the character development. It is one thing to say she fought off the attacker and won. It is another to hear the knife slicing through sinews, feel how hard she thrust, see where it came out, and what came out with it. I feel much more impressed with her ferocious self-preservation. I doubt I could do that. The description of the Great Plague was nightmarish and exhausting. The details, however revolting, create a more visceral reaction from the reader. By contrast the love and the beauty were more inspiring, more of an oasis.

I also think the details, although fictional, are historically accurate. How miserable life was 700 years ago! How dangerous! As humans, we have been mistaken about so many things. We have come a long way, but I’m sure we are still mistaken about much in our world.

The other thought I had after reading the book was about extremism in religious and social structures. This book follows the lives of four people: two caught in the extremes of society and two struggling away from those extremes in religion. It seems that the Earl and the peasant were both helpless against the injustice of class and obedience. They could not foment any change. It was the merchant class characters who made any lasting social impact. Their struggles and visions ultimately improved society. Makes me wonder what that says about us – about me.

I really enjoyed this book and recommend it, although it is not for the squeamish. Any of you who like horror books & movies with probably think it is nothing. I just hate to witness evil and brutality. However, the book is not about evil so much as the triumph of hope over it.

Sorry for the long gap.
I finally finished that long book, World Without End by Ken Follet last night at 12:30. I have several observations to share, but first, I have to catch up on everything that went by the wayside while I was reading.

So,I'll tell you my Urban Word of the Day: Choreplay. Can you guess what it is?

This picture is from last week.
It is so cold today. When I first looked at the thermometer this morning it was 8 degrees. Brrr! Great day for a mug of coffee, a blanket, and my book!

I have started a 1000 page book. I almost didn't because I knew what would happen. The laundry stacks up. The kids have to cook for themselves. I unintentionally stay up too late.

I am reading Ken Follet's "World Without End." Nothing was "the good old days" about the 12th century. What mean times they were. Kids and women were rarely treated with any dignity and expected abuse.

I think we are evolving as humans into a more compassionate humanity. The question is, is the part of us that is evolving going to survive the part of us that is using up all our resources? At least I'll have time to finish my book first.

Friday night I did an odd combination of events. I had to go to a singles dance as part of my job as a singles columnist for a local magazine. (What a job, right?) I knew it would be fun, and I was right. But just before we went, I felt compelled to stop in at the funeral home for a viewing. It was quite a contrast of emotions.

A man in my community, just a little older than me, was killed in a motorcycle accident. Initial reports didn't indicate drugs or alcohol were involved on either party's part. The man was wearing his helmet. I don't think excessive speed was involved. Someone just didn't see him and pulled out into the road where he was driving.

I have encountered his wife several times in our community. She worked at the pre-school where my daughter went. I taught her daughters in Sunday school 6 or 7 years ago. My oldest daughter and her youngest daughter have become friends and slept over each other's houses this fall.

The funeral home was packed. Although I am not close to the widow, I can't imagine the trauma and fear and worry she is feeling and I felt compelled to go hug her. I'm glad we have the tradition of a viewing for just such a purpose.

Because we have never been close, I'm not sure how to help in the months to come. I have talked to other widows who said they just appreciated it when someone came and did something, like walk the dog or mow the grass. I suppose I can just keep my door open for her daughter who is my daughter's friend and watch and listen for something we can do.


Does being reminded of the fragility of life make you enjoy yours more? I think it is easy to ignore the fact that we're all going to die. We don't know when. Better make the most of things now. Some people think it is morbid to dwell on our mortality, but I find it a bit motivating.

Another sweaty attic improvement shift has produced some archival treasures. I found my 8th & 9th grade yearbooks, and various old snapshots that are an interesting comment on the pre-digital days of photography.

The first inscription in my 9th grade yearbook is from someone named Karen who I'm not sure if I remember. She wrote,
"It was nice knowing you in school, but it was kind of weird..."

Some of the signatures admonish me to remember cryptic, inside jokes that must've been funny 28 years ago.

"We really should get together and make another Hoffman cake sometime."
"We finally got rid of Mims & Zocks, but look at all the trouble you got into with Duck."
"Too bad I had to hear all your stories from Ann-Margaret, Mary, & Sange. They really gave me a bad impression of you!"
"Remember the tin soldier and 'Where's your passport?'"

I see I haven't grown up at all in 28 years.

The holiday season has passed and now I'm into the first new season of the year: science fair season.

I did have a wonderful Christmas and a warm, lovely New Year. I got my last present in the mail yesterday - a stuffed, two-headed calf from our dear friends in Boise. My kids were delighted.

Now, however, my kitchen is a temporary lab - testing the effect of varied glycerin levels on the longevity of bubbles. I think that after at least a dozen of these projects I am finally getting better at the selection and procrastination part of the project.

My daughter's entrepreneurial spirit popped up when she was mixing her varied solutions and trying one out with her homemade, ineffectual, wire wand.

"We should market this stuff!" she exclaimed. I hated to burst her bubble but I explained that she was a little behind the curve on that idea.

Right now we are currently having a "delay in the lab" due to the lack of a normal bubble wand. Ironically, despite the perhaps gallon of homemade bubble solution on my kitchen counter, I'm going to have to go buy some bubbles for the wand. Figures.

I love bubbles - the perfect introduction to the ephemeral nature of beauty. I remember my 2 year old son drinking a couple of big chugs before he registered that they didn't taste good and his wide eyes when he burped a bubble. They had an ill effect on him over then next day.

Is it Christmas yet?
(By the time I hit publish it will be)

I'm working on a bottle of wine from my ex, biding my time for the kids to be really asleep before I start my elfish ruckus.



I enjoyed a few firsts this Christmas.
Last night I was invited to watch my friend Peggy's daughter receive her two new kittens for Christmas. What better moments are there than a nine year old girl finding two ginger kittens under the Christmas tree?







And tonight in church, I was Mary. (Sorry if you just sprayed egg nog or coffee on your computer.)
I think it was a combination of "They must not know me very well" and "Let's ask Ann. She doesn't know how to say No!"
The good part was that I didn't have any lines. The hard part was not cracking up when my Joseph called me "Queen of Heaven" to the Innkeeper.
Who ever heard of a Mary in her 40's? But apparently a teenage Joseph was hard to find. Mine was pushing 60. And mercifully, I was not required to stuff a pillow up my dress. I was really reluctant to have anyone associate me with pregnancy in any form.

It just goes to show you that you never know what will come next. I thought my pageant days were long gone.


I wish you all warm new memories that you can pull out and wrap yourselves up in when you are cold.
Merry Christmas!
Love,
Ann