What a long strange trip it is!

It's like coming home ...

2012-01-03T19:30:00.003-05:00

P4C-427 Great Room Sketch

Despite there being so much wrong with it, I'm honestly thrilled with this little sketch of mine, because it is recognizably a room I wasn't standing in at the time. It's part illustration, part "story board" sketch and part getting back into the swing of something that left my life a long, long time ago. Art. Or I should say something I left behind me that I'm just now welcoming back?

Even more interesting is that this was a huge leap for me, from paper and implements of drawing, to a tablet computer and taking art to a whole new place for me. When last I was near art school, I could "see" in my minds eye, the day when one could just draw directly onto a computer screen like it was paper, and that is exactly what this is. That day I envisioned more than two decades ago is now as real and present as my keyboard while I type this. Mind you all those years ago when I "saw" that day in my minds eye? Folks told me I was crazy. Whose crazy now I wonder?

For those of whom have never been to this room, while there is everything wrong with this drawing, at the same time it is still recognizably a room, drawn by a human hand. My hand. It is still clearly a representation of a place, with a sense of space, depth and substance, not just mindless squiggles on paper. It is clearly something drawn by hand, not painted with a mouse on a screen.

For me, it's new freedom. For me it's growth, and evolution of a medium without taking away what makes me an artist. It's just another tool of expression. That it is all virtual, inside a computer stored as electrons? That doesn't both me near as much as even I'd have thought, or at all. In fact, it's a certain amount of additional freedom. Because I know that should I choose to do so, I could print this onto paper, or velum, or whatever media I can put through a printer. So I don't need to spend lots of money and room on art supplies I cannot realistically justify right now.

For me, this means despite not having really drawn anything in more than 2 decades, I've not lost the hand or the eye for it. Sure I'm rusty, but I can still render something I can see in my minds eye into something real, solid, and easy to share with you. For me, this is a first step back to skills and feelings I'd left so far in my past as to almost having been forgotten. So this is me, picking up something I'd thought lost to me decades ago. For me this is exactly like a home coming of sorts. On more than one level. This is a room I know well. A room I've been to many times. A second home for me, far from the troubles of this tiny little world.

This sketch is of a room I've been to many times. A safe place, a home, a haven by the sea. Through the double doors is a balcony and deck that looks out over a sea. Off to the left is a bedroom, my bedroom, with closets and a bathroom, also on the left is a largish open, welcoming kitchen. To the right, another set of doors out to a larger deck area, and another bedroom and bathroom. Behind me the front door. Many an hour I've spent on that deck beyond the doors eating fruit, drinking tea, and watching the sunset into the sea. This is a place of light, love, warmth and "old world charm" like it might be somewhere on the coast of Italy.

So this is a sketch, drawn by my hand, of a place that feels like, and is, a home. And being able to once again share with you what my eyes alone have seen? Well that's a homecoming of a different sort. I have more than one of my sisters to thank for this post, and the confluence of thought that brings me too it. But that's for another day me thinks. For now, this is about home, my home, my heart. About finding once again something I thought I'd lost. It's said you can never go home again, but this experience makes me see this is simply not so. It has been said "home is where the heart is." My heart in this moment is weaving together different bits of things to share this room you'll probably never stand in, via my ability to freeze moments in time in my minds eye, and then put them on paper.

So it's very much like coming home. Because despite the fact that the last time I drew anything was more than a dozen years before I'd set foot in the room pictured, I get to share it with you quickly now. This room? It's my Polonia, my Bramasole made manifest. It's a place of my heart. That I can make it real and share with you is the promise of a light still shining. It's very now, and very Zen. It's like coming home ... for me!

Christmas Eve, Eve, Now, And Zen.

2011-12-23T23:28:00.002-05:00

Six years ago today the Social Security Administration after horribly traumatizing and an already traumatized woman who was living in fear, even terror, most of the time, had this same woman involuntarily placed in a locked padded room staring at the possibility of being there through Christmas. This was after letting her drive in hysterical tears from the SSA office, to her therapist's office, where her therapist managed to get her calmed down enough that she wasn't ready to take her own life. This also involved having her take double her usual dose of tranquilizer and sending her home.

Still, the SSA sent the local police to her house with the lights on with orders to either take her to the hospital, or supervise her until EMS could come pick her up. She was given no choice. Either go to the hospital willingly, or wait for EMS. She went with the nice policeman and was locked into a padded room. She sat in that locked padded room as people came wandering in and out, asking her questions and trying to decide if she was a danger to herself or anyone else. She managed to get released and not have to spend the holiday locked up, but that damage was done.

It's now six years later.

So she lives in a different kind of fear. Yet she does a marginally better job of managing that fear. It's good not to be locked away on Christmas Eve, Eve. By the same token she sometimes wonders if she might be safer locked away. Not safer from herself, but from the kind of dark, lunatic, fringe that doesn't seem to be the fringe anymore. People everywhere are becoming increasingly dangerous and hostile over things they cannot control and know little or nothing about. Conspiracy theorists are popping up everywhere, not just on the far right, but everywhere. And they have conspiracy theories about conspiracy theories. It's bedlam. This includes Facebook, especially Facebook.

So while she does her absolute best to stay calm, present, and focused on what is, and is not real, and treating everyone with love, compassion and empathy, many people just go completely off the reservation trying to spread insanity to her. The anger, pain, and lack of stability makes her wonder if she might not be safer in a locked room with no access to (self proclaimed) seemingly "normal" people who suddenly turn into mindless zombies ranting about things that may or may not be real, all while they refuse to see what is plainly before them.

On Facebook, she's become particularly adept at completely blocking people when it becomes clear they are interested only in being right, and shoving their own brand of rage down her throat. She's not suffering fools gladly anymore and that's a big change from then. She's a whole bunch more Zen. Mainly because it's a defense against the growing madness of entire classes of people who have come unhinged.

She's taken to blocking friends of friends because they have lost the ability to manage their own impulses and have to be right about something that had nothing to do with the topic at hand. Meditation and an eye on history that many seem to have lost keeps her from losing what little of her mind is left, keeps her focused on this moment, and helps her to see that quite often what she might once have thought was her own shortcoming really has nothing to do with her.

If you engage fear, let it smolder within you, and fan that smoke into flames you will succeed in setting yourself aflame for no good reason. If you wish to burn yourself down on a heady dose of the toxic soup of misinformation, lies and pure full on paranoia, I will say a silent prayer to the universe for your lost soul, and go back to my own life, trying to make the best of it I can with what I have to work with. The woman above? Yeah, that was me, and I spent the day locked inside my own little corner of reality staying away from dangerous people as best I could. I blocked someone else's friend so that I cannot see his posts, and he cannot see mine, because he's set on setting himself on fire. I wish him well with that, but want no part of it.

On the values of meditation . . .

2011-08-20T14:52:00.000-04:00

I meditate regularly, at least 30 minutes a day or more. Why? Because it feels good, and that feeling lasts. Whether one is counting rosary and saying Avi Maria, or chanting Om-Mani-Pad-Me-hung meditation has some measurable results on one's body, and this is why I posted sometime back about prayer being meditation in fact, if not in name.

Studies have indicated that using either other these two methods can easily slow a persons respiration rate to 6 breaths per minute in experienced meditators. With slower respiration comes an overall slowing of one's entire body, including heart rate and blood pressure. Advanced meditators with practice can go even slower than 6 breaths per minute. The average resting normal range is somewhere in the realm of 12 to 18 breaths per minute.

After a conversation with a friend yesterday about age, and my joking that I'm slowing my aging process down, on purpose, I thought to see, by way of a simply counting breaths meditation how I was doing.

It was an interesting experience for me. Especially since while meditating it's not uncommon for me to have experiences/visions/dreams what have you. So as I'm counting, I find myself on a quiet street in a town somewhere, and people start showing up, LOTS of people start showing up which can tend to make me very skittish to say the least. Being crowded by strangers making noisy and causing me to feel trapped is something I've been fighting with for some years. It has in the past caused me to have panic attacks, and well I'm not much fond of them. But I stayed focused on what I was doing and noticed with each breath more and more people were vanishing. All this while staying focused on counting my breaths. So I didn't let the crow get to me, and I thought this a particularly cruel joke my mind was playing on me while I was trying to determine my meditating respiration rate. The key here however was that like any meditation, a key is to not engage the thoughts that crowd ones mind. Not get involved, just let them wander through without thought or judgement, which is exactly what I did. But as this was going on the thought dawned that this may throw off my test by adding stress to my meditation. Once again, I let this though pass through without engaging it either.

I'd set my timer for a short ten minute meditation which would give me a large enough sample to determine easily what my per minute respiration rate was. Much to my amazement and great comfort it was three. Yes, 3 breaths per minute, while I didn't bother to check my heart rate, I know medically that with a respiration of 3 breaths per minute, my heart was probably looping along nice and slow at maybe 15-20 beats per minute as well. I know my average resting, non-meditating heart rate is usually in the 50-60 beats per minute range, and exercise rate significantly higher than that in the 120-130 range I'll have to think about checking it while meditating since it's pretty much a given it will be much slower than my average resting rate.

So doing 3 breaths per minute, not bad at all. Being "tested" with stress while meditating very not bad! :)

What would you do?

2011-08-19T15:13:00.014-04:00

The accomplished and brilliant author Sevastian Winters recently asked as a general question to his fans the following question:

$50 Million dollars in non-traceable cash sitting on a table in front of you. Cash's owner is in horrible pain, dying of cancer. He hands you a gun and tells you the cash is yours if you blow his brains out. You will never be caught. Would you take the shot?

I was, for something that bubbled up out of me, pleased enough with my answer that I thought I'd share it here:

I would sit with him. I would share his pain and lessen it. I'd get to know him. I'd use the considerable resources at my command to take as much of his pain from him as I could. And I'd listen. I'd give him my full compassion, empathy and love. I would ease his suffering, not just from the cancer, but from a life that got him there. I'd share with him in great detail the beauty and grandeur of where he was going. I'd share with him my own suicide in 1961 and what it cost me, and what I'd gained from it. I'd take him on a journey into his own future to see what his life would be life if he forced an exit point, and if he didn't. Then if he was utterly certain, I'd induce a medical coma so that he didn't have to feel his own impending demise.

I am a Certified Clinical Hypnotherapist, Certified Reiki Master, and a Buddhist. I'd respect his wishes by taking his pain, and I assure you I can and have done the same for others in horrific agony, but his life is not mine to take, and even if he spends the last days, weeks or months of his life in a coma, it would be better for him to pass when the time is right, not from the trauma of a gunshot to the head. Plus with a medically induced coma he'd have the opportunity to awaken from it anytime he wanted. While he was in said coma, I'd taken his hand, and take him on a spirit walk to some places I'm fond of and find peace in. I'd share them with him and how to get there himself. I'd give him options, ease his pain, and help him grow. I'd even in that state teach him how he could heal himself, and make a decision from there. Free from the pain, and with an understanding of more to the universe and time/space then he'd ever dreamed of, I'd sit down with him again and see where he wanted to go from there. That would be after letting him meet his spirit guides, and my Lucia, Xa'els, and Tak'aya and let him see what they would have to share with him. I would, should he choose it, help him Ascend by helping him reach the state inside himself that could make it possible. It would be his choice.

When, if he passed, if he was utterly serious about it I'd donate at least 47 of the 50 million dollars to causes that need it in his name. The remaining 3 million I would invest in something that generates simple interest, and use the interest to live and set up a foundation to teach more people how to be of true service to other people suffering. I would set up the foundation in his name, and organize it so that it would continue long after I passed from this life into the next.

In short, I would show him a much greater universe outside his own pain and limited existence. I would listen, I would heal him body and soul to where he could make an informed decision. I would provide him the tools and compassion to allow him to do what he needed without judgement. I'd share what Karma REALLY is and how it works, and let him take his last steps from this life into the next empowered and free of the limitations of the false gods of pain, suffering and money.

So, I ask you, what might you do? There is no wrong or right answer here, only one that feels like it works for you. For more of Sev's whit, style, and writing that almost insists one think, you can find him on Facebook, his Homepage, Blog or on Amazon.com

It just dawned on me . . .

2011-06-19T15:11:00.001-04:00

. . . that when I am down to the wire, and ready to move I'm going to get everything loaded up, packed away in the jumper, tied down, and then spend one last night here so that I get a fresh and early start on the drive the next morning. My trusty air mattress, which I spent so much time sleeping on when I first moved here will be where I sleep that last night in a big, empty, apartment. Much like the first night or so that I was here.

It will be symbolic on so many levels, and it will be the closing of this chapter, in this part of my life. The real closing chapter will be when I get home. Then I'll be able to fully, finally, start putting Earl behind me. Not so much in a deliberate "doing" kind of way, but the more spiritual, soul enriching NOT DOING.

Being here has been all about rebuilding after the damage. Nary a step I take, or a day goes by that I'm not reminded in one way or another what this has cost me. How much I've lost, since I said yes when he asked me to take some vacation time to fly out and meet him all those years ago. Getting back home, getting back to a place that hasn't really been tainted by Earl, and the swath of destruction he cut through my heart, mind, body and soul, will be a great goodness.

So yeah, last night here when that comes, will be on the air mattress. First night in the new place, will be on the air mattress for the symbolism of it. And then I'll set up my bed, in my new home, and not look back so much. Speaking of beds. When the end came, I gave the brand new king side bed from the master bedroom to my sister. She was thrilled, overjoyed on the one hand to get so much of the furniture she'd been ogling at our house, every time she was there, sad on the other what it meant for me. The brand new king size mattress was just the top of the list in ways.

Me, I'd been sleeping for years in the guest room, and had finally, after being tired of the pull out sofa bed bought a tempurpedic mattress and slept on the on the floor for the last year of our marriage. Of course my plan had been to get it out of storage when I moved, and sleep on that. Problem of course was with the storage locker being 1000 miles away you see. In the three years I've been here, I've not been back there to get stuff, let alone the bed, out of the locker. So there it sits.

After sleeping on the tempurpedic at Laura's house in the beginning of the year, and having her lecture me, mercilessly about being "stuck" and otherwise finding all sorts of fault with my existence in general because I wasn't her, and not capable of being her, I decided to do something about the bed. I really was tired, past tired, of spending three years on an inflatable camping mattress.

My new bedroom set. Squee!

So I set about finding a new tempuredic mattress I could afford and that would help me sleep better. I'd already long since bought a frame that the air mattress had been on top of now for a while, so it was ready for a real mattress. In May I squeezed the money out of my meager income and savings to get the mattress, this month I finally found and purchased a comforter, really one of those whole bed in a bag things, including curtains and so forth that I liked. The colors and pattern was all rich, earthy and inviting, and it color coordinated well with the other sheet and pillow case sets I'd previous bought, giving me a range of options, and meaning I didn't have to wash the same set of sheets every week just to have a clean bed to sleep in. Now, between the bed in the bag, and the stuff I already had, I only have to wash the bed clothes once a month. Makes me a happy girl. Though truth to tell, having three sets already meant I wasn't washing them every week as it was. But now, now I have something I've not had in years and years, a complete homey feel to the bedroom, something warm, inviting and earthy. Since my bedroom is my sanctuary, and I not only sleep there, but meditate and read as well, I want it to look nice, to be welcoming. This fit the bill quite well in my opinion.

It's a long, long, long way from an inflatable mattress on the floor isn't it? And the comforter is reversible, the other side is the green with dried grass colored lines running through it like the throw pillows, bed skirt, and valence. And it's all mine. So it just dawned on me I've come some distance from where I was three years ago, and my place is losing that homeless chic feeling to it more and more. Instead of those two square pictures hanging over my bed I have a native american dream catcher, which adds to the warm homey feeling for me, and so fits me personally. So progress is once again, not a dirty word.

I went to the bank in . . .

2011-06-15T13:56:00.001-04:00

my birthday suit!

There, I said it. I needed to deposit a check, and rather then go through all the trouble of getting dressed after my shower, I just went into the bank without so much as a towel. Deposited my check, and off I went to the rest of my errands for the day.

It was liberating, and not all awkward.

Okay, so I should probably also point out that my phone is one of the new Android based pieces of iPhone death, and as such, I can deposit checks by simply logging into my account, snapping the front and back of the check, and hitting send. The bank does the rest, and the money's in my account before I've even left the house, or in this case, my bedroom. Gotta tell you, it was awful convenient!

He wasn't perfect ... but he was perfect for me.

2011-05-24T03:54:00.000-04:00

As to predictions ...

2011-05-24T02:33:00.002-04:00

... I have an unerring record with those. Which is why I can relate to the name Cassandra so well. But for those of you watching, who probably don't even know who Cassandra is, go look it up, and don't blame me when I turn out to be right. Unlike Harold "The world is going to end on May 21st 2011" Camping. Yeah, oops! He missed ... AGAIN! Just like I predicted he would.

Love, jealousy, attachment and suffering.

2011-05-24T02:29:00.000-04:00

So it's been an interesting day. Comments and crazy people, memories and accusations that were more projection of their own problems. A friend started a thread on FB about relationships, this comment sprang forth.

The first time Earl and I slept together? We SLEPT! No sex involved. We talked and laughed and compared note on things we like to do, things we'd like to do as well. When I got married, it wasn't the sex, cause trust me, on balance, it so wasn't about sex. If it had been about sex, I'd have broken off the engagement after we'd lived together for a frickin year planning the wedding.

I wanted to grow old together with someone who got my jokes, who'd been there through the good times AND THE bad. Someone I had a history with, someone who respected me, and cared about me as much as I did about him. Someone who when faced with standing with me against the world, or standing with the world beating on me would stand with me. Someone who defend me as much as I'd defend him.

Someone who knew what I was thinking by the look in my eye, and we'd both start laughing at our own inside jokes. Before we married, we had the kind of relationship I dreamed about, and sex had nothing to do with it. We used to finish each others sentences, complete thoughts, have whole conversations with just a look. Folks said we were like a little old married couple we were so adorable, and freaky together. HIS parents, who had been together almost 40 years didn't know each other, or get each other the way Earl and I did.

I fell stupid in love. Over looked the warning signs, and let him put that ring in my nose. So I'm as much to blame I guess as he was. Because I BELIEVED him, and choose to over look the parts that weren't perfect. Like the fact that he was a pathological liar, an obsessive Momma's boy, had a toxic co-dependant abusive relationship with his Mom. Like the fact that he and his Dad used to go to Giant's games in sub zero temperatures while getting sleeted and freezing rained on to watch them lose ... again. I KNEW he wasn't perfect, but I never claimed to be perfect either.

He was also awesome, and brilliant, and funny, and could touch my heart and soul in a way no one had ever even tried before. He took me to places I'd never have gone, and shared with me things I'd never have experienced because it was fun. Like Skeeball off the boardwalk in a New England coastal town. He helped me fall in love with the ocean. He loved little New England towns and window shopping as much as I did.

He hurt me so badly that anyone else would have wished him dead, not just divorced. I didn't even want a divorce, I just want him to look at me again the way he used to. I wanted, I needed his love again. I wanted to go play skee ball and walk on the beach. I wanted him to hold me. I needed him to hold me. But eventually the abuse got so bad I had to do something. Worse yet he totally took me for granted.

But you know what, I wouldn't have wished him dead. He is, and so he never got a chance to see what he lost, what he'd done. And I'd lost an epic love. Despite everything that happened, and as much as he hurt me, and as much as I grew to fear him, TO THIS DAY I STILL LOVE HIM.

I can't not. Cause this isn't a Disney fair tale, and when I give my heart to someone it isn't just a thing of convenience, it wasn't about sex, it wasn't about a nice house and a white picket fence with 2 kids a dog and a cat. It wasn't about money, or status, or friends, or car payments or a big bank account. It was about love, and that look in his eye he had only for me. It was the way he could just look at me across a crowded and room and I'd KNOW for certain, he loved ME.
And after everything that happened, I'd give just about anything to have him look at me like that again. To have him hold my hand as we walked across the street to go watch the ducks fucking in the lake on a cool autumn day. How for years after he'd just say ducks in that way he had and we'd always break out laughing. I'd live in a cardboard box with him in the middle of the woods eating roots and berries if we could just go walking through the outlets browsing for thing we were never going to buy and laughing about who would buy them. I'd sell my soul to have some "Almost Escargo" at the boat house grill with him and hear his voice. After everything I still love him. After everything I still didn't want for him to die. I can't not love him. And it had NOTHING to do with sex.

Which made me think of the lunatic ravings of an unrepentant Narcissist that claimed I was jealous of her relationship. She's never even had a real relationship and I'm jealous? Yeah, right, and the Pope is a cross dressing former nazi who endorses sex with children. Oh wait, bad comparison since that is pretty much the current Pope. Not only am I not jealous of the abuse she hands out to everyone and anyone that doesn't see things her way, I'm also not jealous of the life she thinks she has, where she's one more catastrophe away from having to beg or borrow money from anyone because she's incapable of dealing with bills, budgets or life in any meaningful sense. But she and her lunatic fringe are watching me of course. Yeah, really? So "Lindsay I'm such a worshiper of the devil herself" watch this.

Not only am I NOT jealous of anything a Narcissist think she's has, but I'm so sick to death of people like her and my late husband that I plan on dying alone and happily single. Jealous of her relationship? There isn't enough money in the 'verse to get me to have the kind of "relationship" she has now. I had one of those. I'm still healing, growing, and ENJOYING being single. I personally think Lindsay is a made up name and persona just so that certain hateful little people who haven't even lived a real life yet could launch more hateful comments because she had to have the last word. So go right ahead Lindsay, watch, and understand clearly that I think the BEST thing that could happen is for my other friend to finally get to live single for awhile, and live her own life, and get to find out who she is, heal and grow. Watch as my prediction that eventually our favorite little narcissist finds herself alone because she's a horrid little person who is so self involved that she's incapable or real love, because she loves herself more than anyone else.

I have a nice, quiet apartment all my own that I pay for, a car that runs well that has insurance on it so that I can drive it legally, and can and do pay my own bills instead of suckering other people into paying them for me. I have friends I adore, who adore me, because we're all bright, shiny, happy people. I don't have to beg for anything. Even peace and quiet. My phone doesn't get turned off all the time because I spent the money on a manicure and hair color I didn't need, and had no reason to have, when the children didn't have enough food. I don't risk going to jail driving a car with no insurance because my beauty supplies are more important than driving legally.

Jealous of what? Grow up children and get over yourselves. As if that all wasn't enough, I'm a Buddhist, I don't form the kinds of attachments anymore that could lead to jealousy because that only leads to suffering. And with God as my witness I've had plenty of that. Jealous? Yeah right. I've at least known real love a time or too and always pay my car insurance. So you and all your little friends can go to Ne'tu for all I care, since obviously you enjoy suffering so much. I've been there plenty of times before and have always managed to survive and escape. I'm going to keep it that way.

Halp I is being raptured!

2011-05-20T21:35:00.000-04:00

By Cassandra Speaking.

So by this time tomorrow the Rapture will be underway. At least if you believe the lunatic ramblings of an almost 90 year old repeat failure of a prophet. Twice before he's predicted the date of the rapture with utterly NO success whatsoever. For a while he was claiming the world was going to end in 1988.

We see how well that went over now didn't we? Wasn't it so much fun?

Apparently it was so much fun he went back to his magic book and saw the error of his ways and predicted it was actually going to end in March of 1994. While the early 90's so the implosion of the tech bubble, and resulting economic slide on wall street, 1994 was otherwise unremarkable. During March he said there was some leeway in the numbers and waited all month for the end to come.

It didn't. Again!

So here we are now on the eve of the most famous undate in history. Tomorrow he claims is really, truly, without question, the end of history. Thus, an undate, since no one worthy of remembering will be around long to remember it. "Good by my friends, I'll see you all in the great beyond." I like so many other "people" haven't bothered to pay any of my bills, or put my affairs in order, because the entire world ends tomorrow. Not just tomorrow, but right after work at 18:00 hours local time.

I hope you'll all join me here Sunday morning as the reports start coming in of people all over the globe drinking the sacramental koolade because they missed the bus.

I predict that tomorrow will go down in history as a famous date. The date that Harold Camping will forever be known as a three time loser. You see he's the very self important little man who has predicted the last two spectacularly failed end of the world dates. Tomorrow at around 19:00 local time, when nothing at all has happened, he'll end up being ranked right up there with "Chicken Little" and the "Boy Who Cried Wolf."

I feel kinda bad for Harold and his followers, because even I know that God has made it clear that the end will come without warning, fanfare, public appearance spots, or any media coverage whatsoever.

I as a Buddhist and former ascended master, who has studied many of earths religions, and was last "risen up" or "raised up" sometime before Christ came, know that there's more than one way to scramble an egg. Or, perhaps a better way of putting it? It's fairly simple these days to get from New York to San Fransisco. There are as many, or more ways to get from here to there than there are days in a month. So too with reaching the next plane of existence. After all I've been there, and back.

I'm sorry but it's the height of hubris for one insignificant little man, who has somehow more money and motivated self importance than brain cells, to decide he knows when the end is going to come. Especially given the numbers involved. Right now there are around 6 BILLION (with a B) human beings on Earth. I know for a fact that some one sixth of all those humans follow one of the many flavors of Buddhism, I mean there at least a billion Buddhists on Mainland China for example. That doesn't count the rest of South East Asia, Japan, and significant parts of India. Then we have those of the Hindu faith, which is similar in many ways and flavors to Buddhism, and if nothing else, certainly NOT Christianity. Then there are our Muslim brothers and sisters, who while the don't believe as we do, certainly don't believe what Harold does. So for good measure lets throw in the Catholics who KNOW, because God has told them so, that no one will know when the end is coming. Oh, and while we are adding people in who don't believe, lets add the Jews, Protestants, Baptists, Wiccan's, and who else for good measure? How about the Krishnas? Who else?

Well see that's the thing, the vast majority of people don't believe what Harold does. They believe their God of gods doesn't work that way. Many of them believe a harbinger of the end times, but not a set date, will include quite a show, a new world order, the coming of the Anti-Christ, and much more. While many have claimed that Sarah Palin is the Anti-Christ, I don't think she's smart enough for that. Sorry Sarah, but your just not smart enough for that. That's my opinion and I'm sticking to it. It's also my opinion that Harold Camping is an idiot. I mean he's even dumber than Sarah Palin, and you really have to work hard to be that vapid.

But I digress. Yes, I'm a Buddhist, but I'm not a perfect Buddhist, and admit so much of this tome is NOT right speech. Then again, it's not supposed to be, since this is only my tiny little irrelevant opinion, and I freely admit having fallen from grace, ON PURPOSE, after having already once achieved ascension.

So Sunday afternoon as you're relaxing enjoying a day off, please feel free to join this me in saying "Harold Camping, You ARE The weakest link, Goodbye."

This is Casandra Speaking for Forward Views, all of tomorrows news, today.

Well that went exceptionally well. NOT!

2011-05-07T22:07:00.000-04:00

So after a suitable disclaimer, and careful wording so as to not get anyone's panties in a bunch, my last comment was rewarded with five pages of shall we say some interesting comments. Comments I'm NOT go publish to protect the author from her own madness and my own attempts to keep from making things worse as she's doing more than a good enough job of that herself periodically ranting on her own blog. If anyone is refusing to leave things in the past and move on, it would have to be her, because I refuse to be baited.

That said, for those poor souls who have somehow connected all the dots together, please keep in mind that ever story has two sides, and it takes two to tango. There are also times and places when it's impossible to find the truth because it's a subjective thing. Some people consider verbal abuse just part of living and don't really consider it "real" abuse. These are often the same people who accuse rape victims of "asking for it" by how they look, act, or simply for being alive. Reality check here, verbal abuse IS, IN FACT, ABUSE. Period, end of subject. It's violence, and when within a relationship, it's domestic violence. Period.

Often these people are in a world of their own and their own self important ends, justify the means.

My brother is a perfect example.

He uses people. It's been his whole life. He's a violent, self important little shell of a person who twists everything to convince himself he's right. I fell into the trap of that kind of abuse for year, and all allowed him to take from me without ever even trying to contribute anything while making everything about him. At a point in his life when he had once again fallen out of a relationship because of his own mental health issues and abusive tendencies I gave him a place to live, feed him, in fact wound up fully supporting him because he wasn't even trying. At all. He had this self important view of the universe where everything was about him, how people owed him, how it was my responsibility at the time to provide for all his needs even at the expense of my own. He had to have everything I did, everything was about keeping score for him. Mind you I was in fact supporting him completely, and his wants and needs were more important than my own, even if it meant rent on the apartment, car insurance, or whatever. He'd get a notion, I'd have to drop what I was doing, give him what he wanted and needed whether I could afford it or not, just so that he'd stop abusing me verbally. It was no way to live, and a mistake I went on to make again with my late husband. Suggest that either of them pull their own weight, or even contribute to make life a bit easier? That only brought more abuse. My brother was (and is to this day) chronically unwilling and incapable of supporting himself or even getting a simple job so as not to be a complete drain on my life.

Me, over the years I was more than willing to work in grocery stores or fast food joints if I had to, because they will hire anyone. He had a mountain of excuses why he couldn't. Not one of them was a real, viable concern, but he'd decided that he couldn't get a job there. He came up with plenty of things he demanded I get him that he really didn't need, but he had to have them. Rent and the utilities were supposed to magically pay themselves and it didn't matter if giving him what he wanted meant I wouldn't have enough for the bills, that was after all MY problem, not his. Like cigarettes for example. He smoked, I didn't, but spending the last 20 dollars before payday on a carton of cigarettes was more important than putting gas in my car to get to work, or keep groceries in the house or whatever it was.

And the keeping score thing drove me crazy. I'd put new tires on my car and he'd have to have new tires on his truck. Didn't matter that one tire for his truck was the price of all four tires on my car. He had to have what he wanted. Whatever I got for myself he had to have better and more. Even if it meant I had to suffer, after all, I OWED him. Get a job to contribute to the household? Hell no. His ex-wife had the same problem with him after I finally had more than enough and moved. The whole reason I wound up supporting him is because he'd broken up with his girlfriend at the time because she got tired of supporting him and his sense of entitlement and abuse.

Moving away and sharing a place with a friend where my brother wasn't welcome was the only way I could escape. That's when he found someone else to leach from and married that poor woman. She and I became friends, and no big shock when she started trying to get him to get a job and help support the household, all the excuses came back.

And Earl, well I've talked about him before. His answer to everything was running back to his parents and making ME look like I was crazy and not working hard enough. I was at the time handling all his medical care, working a full time six figure job, being a housewife, and staying up to date on the latest research that could help make his life easier. Him get a job? Heavens no, better to run back to Mommy and make ME look like I was the lazy good for nothing leach.

I don't understand people that think the world, or someone else, owes them a living. I never have, and never will. That goes equally for people who twist reality to fit their views and blame someone else for things that happen to them. I assure you that if my brother were to read this, he'd send me pages of excuses why I'm work, and claim that I was wrong, or twisting things. So I'm not even going to try and but a disclaimer in here, should someone take offense to what I've written, keep in mind I'm keeping things deliberately vague, and other than my brother, not mentioning anyone specifically.

I'm suddenly reminded of my divorce. Earl accused me of costing him friends, because people we'd know, or that he'd known, wanted nothing to do with him when they found out his true colors so to speak. He'd even insisted that some of our mutual friends choose him or me. I on the other hand refused to stoop to that level of nonsense. So the friends he forced to choose said, well She's (me) not forcing us to choose, but you are, so we'll choose her, goodbye if you're going to be that way. Yeah that went exceptionally well. NOT!

Long unsaid, even longer unasked . . .

2011-04-03T20:11:00.004-04:00

So I'm going to start with some questions.

1:) You and your significant other (SO) are out walking with your children, one of whom is under age five, and your SO and youngest child have long since grown tired of walking and want to head back to your car. You want to continue on to your destination and then go back to the car.

Do you: A:) Get into an argument and stomp off with your two older children leaving your SO and younger child to fend for themselves all alone? Especially when you know for a fact that your SO has no idea where she is and has no sense of direction?

B:) Agree that heading back, getting your youngest and spouse safely back to your car is more important so that they are safe, secure and protected? Then maybe if your SO and child is up to it drive to your destination?

2:) You have, for whatever reasons, "concerns" about your SO communicating with a friend.

Do you: A:) Sit down with your SO and have an adult conversation where you attempt to work things out and end up closer through understanding?

B:) Take a systematic and obsessive approach to monitoring all your SO's mail, email, text and phone activities?

3:) You and your SO have a scheduling conflict, your SO needs to get to work to continue earning a living so that you, your SO, and children can all continue to live. You SO has also made plans for her lunch hour that require a car. Your SO owns a own car, you do not. A friend offers to drive whomever needs it to where ever they need to go on the day in question.

Do you: A:) Graciously accept the friends assistance and make arrangements to get everyone where they need to go safely?

B:) Do you insist that your SO take the day off from work, cancel the lunch plans they had with another friend, and take your SOs car to where you want or need to go?

4:) You and your SO are at lunch in a public place. You have a disagreement over something.

Do you: A:) Agree to table the question for the moment and wait until you get home?

B:) Do you make a public spectacle of yourself, argue with your SO, stomp off, pouting, looking pissed, and refuse to communicate with your SO or anyone else until you get your own way?

5:) Your SO expresses some concerns about you having control over ever second of her life and smothering her and wants a bit of healthy space.

Do you: A:) Break down in hysterics, cry and justify what you are doing and guilt your SO into shutting up and letting the abuse continue because you know exactly which of her buttons to push.

B:) Do you talk about it like adults, and find a healthier balance?

6:) A mutual friend expresses concerns that someone they know may be engaging in unhealthy, unsafe and quite possibly abusive and even criminal behaviour. Your friend makes a general comment in a public forum that she is concerned about two friends of hers maybe in an abusive relationship, without saying anything of detail to anyone. You suspect she might mean you.

Do you: A:) Leave it be, and wait to see what's going on.

B:) Demand accountability from your friend and harass and abuse her mercilessly until she says something?

7:) Your friend, after being abused into saying something before she is ready has said something you disagree with, you then send her an email giving excuses for why you are doing the things you do. In it you admit to breaking the law and abusing your spouse. You have long ago decided it's justifiable to abuse and harass someone until they see your point of view as being acceptable because, they are after all wrong. She calls you on it.

Do you: A:) Step up the abuse and violence on all fronts until you get what you want? Un-friend her, continue to talk complete trash about her, taking things out of context in a very public pogrom of violence and disinformation making her look like a being of pure evil? Do you privately FORBID your SO to talk to her?

B:) Acknowledge there may be problems and try to work on them?

The way I was raised, the way I feel, have always felt, is nothing is more important than the safety and happiness of my family. NOTHING. My spouse, my children, their needs are my needs, their safety and happiness is mine. I treat, or try to treat, all my friends with a level of respect and courtesy I wish to be afforded. I treasure my friends and when one of them is unhappy, I too am unhappy and do whatever I can to be supportive. When I disagree with someone who then becomes abusive, the most I'll do is establish a healthier set of boundaries. Occasionally in the process of setting these boundaries while being forced, through abuse, to see the light, I'll allow passion to loosen my tongue enough to say something long enough to get someone to leave me alone. But I won't then go on the warpath in public attempting to smear and discredit my friend as an unstable, medal some, harlot out for her own evil purposes. I will not slander my friend all while painting myself as a rosy, perfect child of innocence and love, much maligned by evil. I certainly will not start talking about a religion of love, and tolerance that stresses treating others with respect, kindness and grace all while ranting about someone else's unsubstantiated evil. I will not willingly, let alone intentionally cause others pain and suffering through constant ranting in a public forum while claiming to be part of a religion that eschews allowing others to suffer, directly or indirectly because of my actions. I certainly won't assign someone a fictional label and then continue using her as an excuse for everything that goes wrong in my life. I will state that under the US Telecommunications Privacy Act, wiretaping, or otherwise invading someone else's electronic privacy is in fact a Federal Crime regardless of why one does it. I will also state that under Federal Law, tempering with someone else's mail is also a Federal Crime regardless of who it is, or why it's done.

*Disclaimer: This post is not meant to resemble anyone real or otherwise in any way, any possible resemblance to anyone living is entirely coincidental. Should someone take offense, or find resemblance I have but to ask one further question. Guilty conscience much? No names or fictitious labels have been used in the creation of this document to protect the innocent and will neither confirm, nor deny, any resemblance of events within to real events or people.

A very BIG bird!

2011-03-19T19:23:00.000-04:00

A very BIG bird!

Today I'm flying around Winton, and there's this one stretch on the west side of the lake right by Winton Road that just opens up. Over the bridge, then it drops of and swings down and along.

I LOVE the feeling of flying, especially this stretch, so I'll often lean back in the seat, straighten my back fully and bring my arms up and out to the side palms down as I go whipping along this one stretch.

So today I'm doing just this and I go flying past a couple walking on the path and I hear, "Oh my god, you look like an elegant bird flying along!" That's exactly how it felt.

I passed this same couple on another loop and said thank you!

So, while wandering around I noticed...

2011-03-19T19:22:00.000-04:00

So, while wandering around I noticed...

...something on my friend Eu's page that I thought was a good idea. So I just invested the time in putting together a before and after virtual model of myself that will help me keep my eyes on the prize so to speak.

On the left, pretty much were I am now, on the right where I want to be!

A Christmas Tree riding a bike...

2011-03-17T22:21:00.001-04:00

A Christmas Tree riding a bike...

Today was just too beautiful NOT to ride, and I was itching for some of those good post ride drugs my body makes. It was also St. Patrick's day. So when I kitted up for the ride, I made sure I was wearing the green. A mean with an Irish last name like mine the only way to be more Irish is to buy a house in Ireland, apply for dual citizenship and have an Irish Passport.

Anyway. I have a lovely green top on my cycling shorts, a fanny pack to hold my phone and keys and the red blinky things clipped on to the fanny pack belt. You know, the red blinky things that get drivers attention so that hopefully they will avoid hitting me?

When I'm riding local streets I take a route the is mostly right turns, so it cuts down on the number of times I have to do major street crossings. My route takes me through a little section of town where in warmer weather people are sitting outside. For whatever reason I tend to attract people, like a bug like I'm told. One friend says I have this amazing, bright, powerful aura that draws people to me. Whatever it is, I attract folks. It almost always leads to a cheering section of locals as I go flying past, sometimes I'll be neighborly, stop and chat a bit.

One such local is Chuck. Last year he started cheering me on and wanted to chat, so on the next loop I hit pause on my tracker, and stopped a bit. That of course made me even more popular with Chuck. I mean he's a guy, so anytime a cute girl (his words, not mine) is willing to stop and talk he remembers. So of course today he gives me a cheer as I fly by and then as I pass him he sees the red blinkys on my belt and hollers, "Hey, Sam, you look like a Christmas tree!"

Yeah, when I thought about it, I could see his point. Nice green blouse, red blinkys flashing, or course I look like a Christmas tree. A Christmas tree riding a bike! But as I headed for home with the glow of happy drugs filling my body from the work out, I couldn't help but giggle.

Getting jazzed for the 2011 riding season!

2011-03-16T22:19:00.000-04:00

Getting jazzed for the 2011 riding season!

So last year I bought a new, 2010 Specialized Women's Myka HT mountain bike and started riding again after decades of inactivity.

It was hell at first. I picked Serenity up March 27th of last year and took her up to Winton Woods to ride it around the lake. It's 1.75 miles to make one lap around. That first day it took me more than an hour. I stopped and sat on several benches a bunch of times.

I fell on my bum a bunch of times, was in serious pain, and had bruises all over me for weeks afterwards. I'd promised all my friends I was going to start out slow and easy and limit myself to five miles on that first day. Well my first lap was SO bad, and I forgot to turn on my GPS tracking feature I didn't even count it. So I set about my second lap and made better time on that one. Only stopped twice on my second lap. Third lap I stopped once, and by my fourth lap, I made it around without stopping at all. Yay me!!!

From that point on I just kept getting better, riding further, and improving my pace. My goal early on was to ride 500 miles before November 1st rolled around. Early July came and I was well on my way to blowing past 500 miles so I doubled my goal. By November I'd made it to 1000 miles and was up to 12 miles per hour average pace and was doing longer rides without stopping or falling on my bum.

My friend Laura, who was cheering on my on and a long time cyclist herself had been trying to get me to move to Tucson Arizona for the sun and single track trails there hatched a plan to get me down there for a visit. So I spent most December and January in Tucson getting really dirty. Really dirty, cut up and bruised because all that sand there was something I so wasn't ready for and trying to keep up with Laura caused me to wreck several times. Serenity wasn't all that happy either, and on the third crash I thought I'd badly damaged her.

Thankfully, Serenity survived mostly unscathed, and she and I went on to more rides in the sun while still there. Monday I took her in to get her tuned up, checked over and ready for this year. After the wrecks in Arizona she was still unhappy, the wheels were rubbing and she was, well filthy. With March 27th right around the corner my one year new bike service plan was about to expire so I really needed to get her in to the shop.

Montgomery Cyclery is where I landed after some serious research. They were patient, amazingly helpful and NOT pushy. I went in knowing I wanted a new bike and after having looked at their website extensively I thought I knew what I wanted. They showed me what I was considering and answered all my questions. They also had a sale coming up and suggested I wait until the sale and save even more. Also helped me look at other bikes, even better bikes that would be in my price range during the sale. So while it was sort of an up sell, it was one in my favor. Another reason I chose them was the store itself. It has this calm, quiet, peaceful air to it that reminds me of a library. So that alone was a major selling point in their favor.

The staff there is great, and when I took Serenity in Rob looked at her and said "I can see your worries about not getting enough use out of her to justify the cost wasn't that much of an issue after all. Where have you been riding, because that's a lot of dirt." So they took her in and went over her with a fine tooth comb so to speak. When I went to pick her up Joe looked at me and said "You know your tires are showing a bunch of wear, do you commute to work on your bike?" I laughed and said no, that's just pleasure riding. He looked confused and said "But this is less than a year old, you just got it. That's a bunch of riding." I assured him it was just shy of 1200 miles, that I was going to shoot for 1500 miles this year. "You might need new tires before then" he joked.

So Serenity is clean, and back in proper shape, and tomorrow and Friday promise to be ideal for riding and I'm going to be out in the sun and warm weather loving my bike and reveling in the feeling of peace, of Serenity I have with the wind in my hair and the hum of the tires beneath me.

Self control . . .

2011-01-20T21:34:00.000-05:00

So I had one of my periodic cravings for chocolate that wasn't chocolate milk and realized I'd left my Premium Triple Chocolate M&M's at Laura's house in Tucson. I had this momentary panic that there was no chocolate other than the drinkable kind in the house, which would be nearly unheard of for me. Then it dawned on me back in December I got a quarter pound of fudge from the General Store on top of Mt. Lemmon. And that most certainly DID make it home with me.

Out of the 1/8 of a pound of raspberry chocolate swirl fudge, and 1/8 lb pure chocolate fudge I bought I still have more than half of both of those. So I took a slice of the one, let it slowly melt in my mouth, then the other and let that melt in my mouth, but them back in the ziplock, and back in the box.

I think it's all the years of mediation and mindfullness. I can make a bag of premium M&M's last months and often do. The Mt. Lemmon fudge will also be around for months, because when I take that little bit on my tongue, it's a timeless moment as the taste and texture slowly unfolds in my mouth. Food for me in ways is like wine, or even sex, best if slowly savored over a long period of time.

Some folks envy my self control, I think it's just me being selfish in an odd way. I cannot afford much, and despite having made simply obscene amounts of money once upon a time I've always lavished it on other people and not myself. So I tend to savor the moments when they come.

If you're ever in Tucson Arizona, and can make it up to Mt. Lemmon and the general store there, by all means get some of the fudge. It's some of the best I've had and that's saying something, given that I grew up in New England with some of the best fudge in the world at hand.

While I don't really consider Mt. Lemmon a mountain, it does sport some breath taking vistas, has a wonderful restaurant and great general store, I lived at higher elevations in the foothills of the Rockies when I lived in Colorado. Now THOSE are mountains!

That said, Mt. Lemmon in the Catalina's is some serious must see territory. And if you exercise some self control, fudge you by there will last a while. :)

Time is a river that tells no lies...

2011-01-19T14:31:00.001-05:00

A Zen Koan I'm partial to, that was featured in an episode of Stargate SG1 reads like this:

"The river tells no lies. Though standing on the shore the dishonest man still hears them."

Taoism teach us about "Wei Wu" which is, over simplified, knowing when to act or not act. Mind you it's not just the Tao, the concept of action, or not, is littered liberally through Eastern thought. In various forms of martial arts for example it is often better to flow rather than block, let an opponent over extend, become unbalanced in stance and energy and use that to your advantage instead of a hard block. Sometimes refereed to as using an opponents energy against them, it's all about knowing when to act or not to act.

Taoism will teach us not to fight the river, for we are certain to drown if we do so, but to let the river take us where it will, share with us it's lessons and then deposit us upon the shore when we are done.

Time I have known as an illusion for many years, because it either exists when I choose to observe it, or vanishes from sight when I am mindful and present. I can and have actively in my own life chosen to absent myself from time by constructive use of mindfulness. Doesn't matter what I was doing, the illusion of time vanished when I did not observe it, almost in support of Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle. Simply stated, Heisenberg forwarded the concept that the act of observing a given event, would act to change the result of the event. Almost like the butterfly effect talked about in popular culture. Namely the suggestion that the flapping of a butterflies wings on one side of the world could cause a Tsunami on the other side.

Some time ago I talked about entropy being almost a safety value, working deliberately and intentionally at the quantum level, to help bring balance to the greater universe. How in that split second of the irresistible object meeting the immovable force, a timeless moment of pure peace and beauty can be had if one is open to it.

Back to popular culture for a moment we find a subplot in the Star Trek movie "Insurrection" where Picard is being taught about timeless moments by a woman hundreds of years older than him who looks like she's younger than him. Picard later uses what he didn't think he learned to stop time long enough to save this woman's life. I'm reminded of Hamlet at the moment.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." -- Hamlet Act I, Scene IV

Which I've always understood as a particularly salient point that alludes to truth being far stranger than fiction. Having had my share of timeless moments, and mindfulness taken to the point where entire days simply vanish without effort I turned my mind toward time once again. Especially given that I know at a quantum level it is simply a means of measurement, no more real or important than length, width or depth. In a universe not limited to three (four) dimensions, there are multiple dimensions of time. Going out a step further, the Multiverse (or M-Verse) theory suggests that everything and anything that possibly can happen, has happened, somewhere, somewhen. The TV series Stargate makes great use of this concept over it's 11 year run where time is simply a vehicle for story telling, and regular crossings into alternate, parallel universes is common place.

Another "popular culture" reference that inspired this post is Garth Brook's song "The River" where he talks about the dreamer being a vessel;

You know a dream is like a river

Ever changing as it flows

And the dreamer's just the vessel

That must follow where it goes

Trying to learn from what's behind you

And never knowing what's in store

Makes each day a constant battle

Just to stay between the shores.

(Chorus)

"And I will sail my vessel

'Til the river runs dry

Like a bird upon the wind

These waters are my sky

I'll never reach my destination

If I never try

So I will sail my vessel

'Til the river runs dry."

Too many times we stand aside

And let the waters slip away

'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow

Has now become today

So don't you sit upon the shoreline

And say you're satisfied

Choose to chance the rapids

And dare to dance the tide.

(Chorus see above)

And there's bound to be rough waters

And I know I'll take some falls

But with the good Lord as my captain

I can make it through them all.

Yes I will sail my vessel

'Til the river runs dry

Like a bird upon the wind

These waters are my sky

I'll never reach my destination

If I never try

So I will sail my vessel

'Til the river runs dry.

Yes, I will sail my vessel

'Til the river runs dry

I woke up with this in my head this morning, it's a beautiful song in it's own right, but then it came to me, Time is a river too. If we fight the river, we may drown, or at very least not learn from what it wishes to share with us. If we simply stand beside the river, and let the water's slip away, we also may not benefit from the wisdom the river wishes to share with us. Likewise, mindfulness, a form of meditation allows us to open ourselves up fully to what is around us, and simply take it all in, not judging, not shaping or forcing our will onto whatever may pass, but simply being very present in a given moment that becomes two, and four, and more, for however long one wishes to experience it. Wu Wei, or better still, Wei Wu Wei. Action without action.

Another Koan that comes to mind: "Put no distance between you and where you are."

In part it's about mindfulness, about being present, about the gifts the river will bring you.

Time will take one on a journey, and it will share with you what it will. It will tell you no lies, but if you attempt to force your own views onto it, you will miss the beauty in the moments shared.

"The river tells no lies. Though standing on the shore the dishonest man still hears them."

All roads lead to the great path, many cross.

2011-01-18T15:00:00.001-05:00

I've been growing, healing, moving in fits and starts down "the way" that leads back to the great path. When I can, rather than fight the river and surely drown, I let it take me where it will, and learn from what it shares with me.

Some years ago I met Laura because on our way to the great path, ours crossed. We have been on and off walking for a while, working on being present. So at one point when time and space conspired to have us within relative proximity and she suggested lunch, I agreed. Two years ago that. For me it was a big step. I got up early (for me at the time) and drove the 50 miles up to Dayton from Cincinnati. Several hours later we were both back on the road, me to "home" and her to her Dad's house. It was a big step for me.

She's since become convinced I need to move to Tucson. My plan has been to head home to Colorado. I joked that I'd need to visit Tucson, explore some, get a feel for it before I'd consider it. After all, my first move to Colorado so long ago was a result of a business trip there. I got a taste and was hooked. I let Earl take me from Colorado years ago, but with him gone now, my plan has been to go home one day soon.

That was two years ago. I am not the same person I was, nor is Laura, but our relationship has grown. Last year during her annual pilgrimage to her father's house I met her in Dayton again, and had more fun. Grew further because instead of just going up for lunch, I went up and stayed overnight at a Motel there and we had dinner and breakfast together. Still she spoke of her enduring love for the Sonoran desert and her belief that I needed to move there.

And then she hatched an evil plot.

So December 9th after carefully planing, packing, and consulting with the weather God's, I set out in the Jumper toward her desert home. As much about house and pet sitting while she and her boyfriend spend the holiday's with her Dad, as it was part of her evil plan to get her desert into my soul, I spent the last month there. Yes, I drove almost four thousand miles round trip to house and pet sit. But the logic was irrefutable. I already knew and loved Emily (her Portie) and was certain that I'd have no problems with her other four legged people. It would have cost her a small fortune to board them and they would have been stuck in cages and only periodically walked. By driving down to the desert I'd be lessening their suffering, Laura would be able to rest easy and enjoy her trip knowing the wee ones were loved and free instead of locked in cages for more than a week. It made sense all the way around.

On the 16th of January I bade farewell to the Sonoran desert and set course for my "Temporary Home" in Ohio. The trip out and back, the more than a month I spent there, and the people I shared time with will be part of me forever. Having now had a taste of the Sonoran desert I know I want more. Laura's path and mine crossed some time ago, and we've been now and again walking together, even riding together, sharing what we know, and lending a hand and caring heart as we go. You just know I had to bring my bike with me right? There will be more to follow on the subject, this is just a warm up. This is just to say that Laura's evil plan has borne fruit, I enjoyed my time in the desert and all the paths of other people that crossed mine while I was there.

Dreams teach . . .

2010-11-04T19:15:00.003-04:00

. . .and sometimes I learn things about myself, or have things confirmed that I'd known or suspected. The last two nights are no exception. And somehow I feel as though I've been tested and passed muster. I have my suspicions there, but I'll keep those cards close to my vest as they say. A least for the nonce.

Anyway, back to my dreams. Or should I say nightmares. They have been such a constant part of my life for so many years it's hard to say anymore where the line between dreams and nightmares exists, or even if it does. I oft wonder if it is not so much a line as much a matter of degree?

Night before last I was out walking somewhere, in a city I'm not familiar with, when I was accosted by a complete stranger that decided I was not at home raising children doting on my husband like I was supposed to be. He decided I was evil because I wasn't sufficiently (or at all) cowed by his presence. He warned me that God had given him the right, the duty, to smite me if need be. Maybe I should have been showing the fear and terror of being put upon by this person that I was feeling or something, but instead I looked at him and said I seriously doubt you are permitted by God to smite me. That is not the way God works. Some more words of madness from him and finally I said, "Fine, you and I don't agree, I get that, and you feel you have to smite me, I get that too. Before we get to the smiting part of our program can I just mention that with great power comes great responsibility? And that it might be possible that while the lighting flashed and the sparks showered in one blink of your eyes you had had missed seeing? That I could not be responsible for actions you take, only my own? 'The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the shore, Here no bull can hide?'" In a moment that felt much like Yosemite Sam facing off against Bugs Bunny he bellowed "Enough nonsense woman, prepare to meet your maker!"

I simply said "I put no distance between myself and where I am, what of you? If smiting me is what you plan to do, might I suggest you just get on with it and stop wasting both of our time?"

I watched as his hands began to glow and thought it strange, after all, as a healer I could do the same thing but would never think to use it to harm another being. So I set my hands to glowing and increased my own shielding against negative energy. At which point his eyes took on an intensity that almost reminded me of a Stargate universe Goa'uld and I thought "ah, false gods," as a massive amount of energy poured out of the heavens in my direction, hit my shielding and enveloped him. It wasn't pretty from there. I felt slightly guilty, like I should have perhaps shielded him as well and dissipated the blast harmlessly, but it was to late for that and I awoke shaken from my encounter with an agent of a false god.

So last night was an even longer, more involved nightmare typical of many, if not most of mine. I'm being chased by people that wish to harm me, captured, and then forced to work on their behalf to do things they wanted me to all while threatening to hurt or kill me if I didn't do just what they wanted, the way they wanted. Over the course of several days things came to a head with one of the leaders of these people falling seriously ill. My own nature was to help him, heal him is I could, and prevent harm from coming to him. So again I lit up my hands and encouraged one of the people with me, who was also being held against her will, to help with the healing as well. One of the other people stood there stunned and said "We were most likely going to kill you when we were done with you, why do you willingly help heal someone who is going to kill you?"

I pointed out that it was not my job to be his judge, jury and executioner, and not my nature to refuse to help someone based on a judgement call of such magnitude. Mine is not to decide another's fate, mine is only to lessen if at all possible suffering and to use my gifts for the greater good. To sit back and watch him die was not in my nature, regardless of what was in his. I was already suffering at his hands, and letting him die would not change what I'd experienced.

Awakening from this dream I felt as though I'd passed some sort of test. I was also reminded of why despite the way Earl and his parents were treating me, I still fought tirelessly to help him heal and grow. How despite my own subjective distress I could remain objective in my care and treatment of Earl.

I am Buddhist person. Not because of what I say, but because of what I do. I am Buddhist person not because of the preaching or pronouncements of myself, my god or others, but because of the path I walk. These two dreams helped me to remember what I've known all along but had been distracted from. Sleep is one of the ultimate forms of meditation, and through dreams, we learn or are reminded of what we already know.

Buddhism to me is much less a form or religion in the common use of the word, and certainly not deist, or dogmatic in anyway, but a method of navigating the great path. I follow no one, practice no "rituals" other than perhaps meditation if one could call that a ritual, and I choose not to lead. Buddha teaches that all is illusion, and not to believe in him or what he says, but to find our path to enlightenment and walk it ourselves just as he has done. Zen Buddhism, which is littered in my remarks above, has only Koans to meditate upon, things to ponder and take from them what we may. Things like:

"The river tells no lies, yet standing at it's shores the dishonest man still hears them"

and

"If you immediately know the candlelight is fire, the meal was cooked a long time ago."

So there is little or no chance of being locked into dogmatic thinking, or a set of sound bites or bullet points to shout from a position of self importance. In Zen Buddhist, nothing is a given and everything is possible. The "four noble truths for example do not exist as things set in stone, but as reminders of a place and time that flavored the thinking and experiences of the person who shared them. That even the eightfold path as right as it can be, is not the be all and end all of Buddhist experience on the road to the great path.

"All roads lead to the great path, many cross."

And dreams, be they during sleep, or while in deep meditation, can and often do teach . . .

Very nearly a perfect day . . .

2010-10-24T19:37:00.001-04:00

I awoke yesterday after seven and a half hours of sleep right through on the dreamland express. It was nothing short of astonishing. The effect it had on me was equally stunning. As I wandered into the Loo the visage in the mirror surprised me. For those who are fans of Star Trek from back in the 60's, think of the episode "Mudd's Women" kind of stunning. One night of solid, uninterrupted sleep let me see just how much I've really been missing for the last decade or so. I even crawled back into bed and got another hour of sleep after that. Heavenly. No nightmares to mar the experience.

Oh dear a girl could get used to that!!! I know this one could and hopes to!

So yesterday was also supposed to be really warm and mild before the rains came in today, tomorrow and Tuesday. Naturally what would be my first thought for a perfect fall day in New England? Yes, of course a ride! I've got a one track mind that way.

I know Ohio is not really part of my beloved New England, but it reminds me of it in some very pleasant and surprising ways. Not the least of which is the fall air and plenty of trees turning different colors. So my sinister plan for the day was to get up and going earlyish for me, finally try a burger place so many people have said is amazing, and then fly! Cause you just know flying had to be in there somewhere!

Photo Courtesy The Food Hussy and her review

So, "Five Guys" is a national chain, but they have high standards, offer fresh, hand cut, skin on fries, and wonderful burgers. I've been hearing about them for a while but only just found out there is one here in Cincinnati. Curiously enough it's in the top three for the area at number three, and happens to be in a place I feel comfortable with, right in the same shopping center as my local "Whole Foods" so I thought yesterday was a good day. It's right before the end of the month and payday but I had just enough scraped together to take myself out for a change. Plus I have enough food in the house that I can make it till payday.

So "Five Guys" it was. First surprise was that they encouraged me to spend the extra 20 cents for the plastic drink cup. Why? Because I'd never have to buy a drink from them ever again. Should I go back, and after my first time there, I WILL, I bring the cup and get unlimited refills as long as I own the cup. Forever... If' I happen to be out shopping and am thirsty but not in the mood for a burger I said? Come on it, it's your cup, and our rule is it should never have to be empty. What if I go to a Five Guys in Colorado Springs, Colorado or Oakland Bay California I asked. Same rule she said, your cup should never be empty! Just like that. So I ordered a burger with cheese and a bunch of vegetables on it, and a small fry. She took my money, handed me my cup and receipt and said enjoy your meal ma'am!

Few minutes later my number was called while I was sipping some lemonade, and I got handed this huge bag. Small fry my arse! Imagine three large fries from say McDonald's or Wendy's and that's what was in my bag along with this frankly enormous burger. I carefully opened it up and aside from the serious amounts of veggies I had them put on it, was REAL cheese and TWO burgers. Turns out their regular burgers are DOUBLES by default. Unlike other chain restaurants, they don't skimp with, or charge more, for the extras! So I wound up eating half of it and saving the rest for after my ride. And the epic fries? Sprinkled them with Malt vinegar and ate about a quarter of them. The rest I took for after the ride and dinner. So two and a half meals and a truly bottomless drink cup, and I'd say this was money well spent! The fries were fresh out of the fryer, hot, crisp, and oh so yummy! To be fair, they are not at all unlike Peen Stations award winning fries which is another local sub place that has awesome food. Anyway, the fries themselves are mana from loving food Gods. Really.

Little Miami Scenic Trail

Then I set out for Loveland Ohio figuring I'd go try out the trail and see if all the hill work I've been doing has made a difference yet. Plus I needed to get rid of some of what I drank and I knew they had bathrooms right off the trail. So the bathrooms where interesting, and quite unexpected. First of all it seems they never close. Second the stalls had these rustic wooden doors, but the toilets themselves were an anachronism. In stark contrast with the rest of the structure, these gleaming white beauties where lidless. So that should a bloke forget himself and wander into our side, he couldn't forget to put the seat back down when done. They were and inserting shape that I can only imagine were also in the mens rooms. Long front to back, but narrow to make sitting without a lid quite comfortable, and very little chance for men folk to tinkle on the seat. Finished in there, washed my hands, and then got Serenity off her birth on Jumper one, put on my gloves, bit my preflight and set off for a quiet, comfortable ride in the fall air.

Now I've ridden this trail a number of times before, but this was my first trip in the fall. Winding along the Little Miami River it follows an old railway line from the bygone days of steam. So much so that on a previous trip in a spot where the pavement was worn by time and thousands of riders, you can actually see the top of a piece of steel rail. Anyway, the ride is scenic, peaceful, and of so lovely any time of year, but so much more today with the trees on both sides of the trail, and the river, thousands of different colors! My plan was to ride out ten miles (which would put me around South Lebanon Ohio) and then turn around and ride back. This scenic, peaceful, well maintained stretch of trail while not nearly as complex as climbing into the rockies, isn't exactly flat either, and while the grade change is only a 100 feet or so vertically, it's regular, so it's a decent work out as you keep riding up and down hills, over and over. Some of them are just kind of seemingly long endless climbs. At least to those of us badly out of shape and over weight.

So that gives you a general feeling for what the elevation change looks like. For a closer, more interactive look at where and how the elevation changes, just click on either the profile, or the map above to be taken over to my DailyMile.com profile page for the ride.

The ride up was relaxed, pleasant, and I even slowed up a time or two to ride along other riders and chat. Especially since one of the women riding along said "Oh sure, make this look easy, Ms. Speedy" as I went by. As I came up on her six I noticed she was pedaling with the arches of her feet and looked like she was laboring and lagging behind the two guys she was riding with. Now I'm no-one's expert on cycling, but I do know some things from trial and error that can made a big difference. One of those that is oh so important is seat height and foot position. The other is some decent padded gloves, which cuts down on hand and arm numbness on longer rides. I'd also notice as I was coming up behind her that she was swinging her arms, which I used to do in the days before gloves. It helps restore circulation and feeling when your arms go numb. So I slowed down and matched her speed and said three things that will make a dramatic difference your rides are a good set of padded gloves, bring your seat up just about an inch, and get some decent electrolyte replacement additive and a water bottle and cage. So we chatted a bit until we caught up to the guys she was riding with and I suggested to the boys they ride WITH her, not all they way out in front. She was all excited about the few changes I suggested and started telling the guys about them as I bid them a good day and kept going on my way.

By the time I hit South Lebanon my internal clock rang, so I stopped a moment to check time, distance and remaining daylight. Since my trip for a burger, and the indirect sightseeing route I took to Loveland got me a late start, I was concerned about riding back in the dark. Mainly because while they are few, there ARE some road crossings and I didn't want to borrow trouble. Wisdom being the better part of valor and all, I decided not to push on to the ten out I'd planned, I hit stop on CardioTrainer and was oh so pleased to see that for the first time ever, I'd managed an average pace of 12.2 miles per hour. I know that doesn't sound like much to some of my friends who ride way above that, but for me it was a bit of victory! Especially given the fact that it felt like a relaxed ride in the country! With Sunset only twenty some minutes away, I reset my flight computer and started back, determined to push myself slightly harder to see if I could beat my pace. 40 some minutes later as I pulled to a stop behind the Jumper, I again hit stop and there it was. I'd maintained a 12.5 mile per hour average pace! Victory!

Which of course all the intentional hill work I've been doing in the park has paid handsome dividends! As I saddled up and headed home it struck me how it was very nearly a perfect day. Only thing that could have made it better? If I'd made my ten full out and back miles. There's always next weekend right?

Gear and staying fit . . .

2010-10-04T22:12:00.000-04:00

So this is going to be the first of a number of posts where I talk about some of the gear related to one of my loves, which just happens to be a great way to stay fit. I cycle for fitness, for pleasure, for fun, and to get away from things that are bothering me for a while. When I get on Serenity and get moving, I'm leaving calories and problems behind me, taking the time to really be present while riding, focused on what I'm doing and soaking every last bit of pleasure out of a ride.

That said, I want to be safe, and careful. I want, should God forbid something horrible to happen and I cannot speak for myself, some way for first responders to get to know me some. I don't have any significant life threatening issues that require me to wear a medical alert ID, and frankly, they just don't have enough information on them. There are any number of different ways to address identification and notification information, including of course carrying a wallet, but like most people working out, I don't want to carry a wallet with me. Both from a standpoint of the extra stuff to carry, and the risk of having it stolen. I have an ICE (In Case of Emergency) entry in my gphone, but again, should it be stolen or damaged again I'd be in trouble.

So while I was looking into getting a new bike, I came across a product in a bike shop in San Fransisco called RoadID. Actually it's a series of products for athletes that serve as identification when one is out doing whatever one does, be it running, jogging, walking or in my case, cycling. It's inexpensive, very lightweight, comes in a number of formats and provides optionally very serious and secure detailed information about one in times of need. I started out with the Interactive Sport Wrist Band Road ID and wear it pretty much anytime I leave the house. With the Interactive version, first responders, doctors and law enforcement will be able to call, or logon online to the service that securely manages my information. Like who to notify, what my Drivers License number is, what Medications I'me taking and how often, who my Doctors are and how to reach them, as well as my Health Insurance ID and whatever else I feel like putting in there. One simple wrist or ankle band, or a little pouch that connects to my shoes or inside my helmet has all the information that I'd normally have in my wallet. I hope never to need to have it used, but I rest a bit easier knowing that God forbid the absolute worst happen, I'm not just some Jane Doe in a fridge somewhere.

So like I say, I started with the wrist ID back a while ago, but a conversation with a friend had me thinking. RoadID will work if the first responders see it, think to look at it, and both to connect to the service and pull my records. What if however they don't notice it or think to follow up on the information it can provide them access to other than my name? So I thought about getting involved in educating first responders to be aware of the ID and to know to look for it. I may still do that, but I realized there is one universal piece of identification that professionals recognize on sight and no to look at. The age old Military "Dog tag!" First Responders, Doctors, Law Enforcement all know what a Dog Tag is, and that it usually identifies the wearer.

And thus, my second RoadID purchase the FIXX ID! Nice normal military Dog Tag that anyone will see and recognize in an instant, but a 21st century version that is connected to my existing interactive identification on the secure server. One profile that both my IDs connect to. Wear it around my neck, tucked into my bra and off I go!

Chuck and the kindness of strangers...

2010-09-28T03:52:00.000-04:00

Karma is defined in many different ways by many different people. One of the common short descriptions is that what you send out in terms of energy you will get back. The whole idea of kindness to complete strangers for no reason than it's nice to be nice. Love they neighbor and all that if you will.

Seems because I have some how managed to heal and miraculously remain an otherwise out going, friendly, kind sort of person, I tend to act like a buglight. Folks seem to notice me, and gravitate toward me like I'm a small stellar body. You know, gravity and all that.

Of late I've been running laps on the streets near my house that take me through several small towns. As I ride, I'm focused on what I'm doing, but because of that gravity, people notice me and I wind up with a cheering section. Even riding on surface streets. One such local has been cheering me on and counting my laps as I go flying by. He hollers across the street, I smile and wave, and keep going.

With the days getting shorter, the darkness of twilight coming sooner, my last laps of the day are often well into dusk. Saturday as I was making my second lap around, my cheering section had crossed the street and he tried to get me to stop for a moment. "Next lap" I said as I flew past noticing he was holding something bright and shiny in his hands.

So on the next laps I pulled onto the sidewalk where he was sitting and said "Hi, are you okay?" He said yes he was fine and handed me this day glow yellow safety belt. "My Son wore this when he was an SF and I don't know how to adjust it, but I thought you could probably use it. I worry that you'll get hit out there riding like a woman with a purpose." So I thanked him, asked if he was sure he wanted to part with it, and when he said yes, proceeded to adjust it to fit and put it on. So we chatted a bit, exchanged names, brief histories, that kind of thing. Polite, friendly conversation. He said that I amazed him, riding by like that going around the neighborhood. Turned out he though I was running short little loops in the handful of blocks right there. He was floored when he found out just where I was riding and remarked he'd probably die if he tried that. That he was thinking of getting a bike, but not doing anything like I was.

I assured him that a few short months ago it took my almost an hour, where I fell over sever times, stopped and sat for a good long time to catch my breath, and got pretty bruised up trying to do two miles around the lake. Told him that I've been working my way up, and that now I can do ten miles in under and hour and often do more than that. That he could do it too and that it was fun and so good for ones health.

His name is Chuck, and he didn't want to see me get hurt. Complete stranger that is now not so much a stranger. Seems I'm not the only one who tends to practice random kindness and senseless acts of beauty. I kinda like that and thought I'd share!

Well, it finally happened . . .

2010-09-18T21:50:00.000-04:00

. . . after 730 miles since March 27th Serenity got a flat. Thankfully it was in the parking lot of my house. So it's not like I had to walk far to get home. Not like I was going to have to nurse an injured comrade along as we walked miles back to the barn. Not even like I had to call AAA, though I don't know if it covers me when I'm on my bike... :)

SO I took her upstairs and set about finding out what the problem was and deciding how to fix it. Okay, yes, it was a given the tire was completely flat and the only thing to do is either repair or replace either the tire and tube, or just the tube. I had a patch kit so that if it was something small, I'd be able to patch the tube and go from there, but I didn't have a pump which would only get me so far. First thing to do was look for any obvious, easily visible signs of problems. What I found I'd say more than covers that and then some. A frakin staple, a fairly sizable one at that, stuck deep into the tire. So as you can see on the right, we know exactly why the tire was flat now. Thankfully, this kind of damage isn't something that requires I replace the tire, because those are fifty bucks a each the ones that came with the bike. In this case, I can patch or replace the tube, and go from there. Which brings us to the wisdom Asa Salas shared over on Team Estrogen about flat tires. She wrote in part;

"You want to see a trick?" I asked. I took the wheel, and before he could hand me the levers, I zipped the tire off the rim.

"How did you do that?" he said.

The article, which is very well written, goes into how exactly to get a tire off without tools. No levers, no fuss, muss or bother. Honestly it's a long, long way from the old days. Last time I had a flat was over 20 years ago, and I used to keep a bunch of tools with me just to be able to get the thing repaired. Now of course back in those days the wheel bolted into the frame, and just to get it off required wrenches. Now, since I bought a decent bike, the wheels come with a quick release to make it easy to get them off the bike. What was more to the point with the fact that Asa explained how to get the tire off the wheels without the use of tire levers. Now that is a blessing. Especially given the frustration that levers used to represent. Not just having to keep them in a pouch on the bike with others tools, patch kit, spare tube, frame pump and so forth, there's also the annoyance of fighting with the tire levers themselves.

So while I was thrilled to have found Asa's article early on, I was in no real rush to find out. Now however it seemed a perfect time. I had a patch kit, and despite Asa's suggestion to replace the tube and patch the punctured one later, I figured I'd try to accelerate the process some and change it in place. So, the air already out of the tire I took to following Asa's advice for taking the tire off and pulled the tube out to patch it. So I carefully slide the tube out from under the tire leaving the staple in the tire so I'd have a good idea where the holes are. I followed Asa's steps to gently get pull the tire off the rim and slide the tube out. Cleaned the tube surface, but the vulcanizing glue on the tube and let it dry. Applied the patch, removed the staple and set about putting it back together. A good exercise in why Asa was right, and that her technique works flawlessly.

So when I got it pumped up, and the tire seated on the rim I let it sit for a while to see if the patch was holding. And this is where I learned that Asa was right. Swap out the tube and play with the patch later! The tube wasn't holding air. Which of course meant I had to start over, this time of course I had to pull the wheel and tire/tube assembly off the bike and replace the tube this time. So once again I got to use Asa's trick, and this time removed the damaged tube and replaced it with a new one. Put the tube and tire back on the rim, again following Asa's technique and inflated the tire. Perfect! Simply perfect! Serenity and I are back on the trails and adding more miles toward my goal of reaching 1000 by the end of October. As of this writing, I've got six weeks, and 235 miles to go. Given that each of the last two months I turned over 200 each, I'm in good shape. Well, I'm on track to meet or even exceed my goal, shape? Well that's part of why I'm riding now isn't it?

In any case following Asa's guidelines the right way, it took almost no time to get the tire off, the damaged tube out, the new tube in, pumped up and put back on the bike and locked down. Like I said, prefect. So next I'm going to get one of those wonderful little CO2 tire inflater and an under seat pouch to keep a spare tube and the inflater and I won't have to worry getting flats while out riding ever. Peace of mind that is well worth the price of some extra gear eh?

There is no winter . . .

2010-09-09T17:17:00.000-04:00

An old Russian proverb keeps coming to mind especially given the last few months.

"In the kingdom of hope there is no winter."

Which is amusing considering this is a kingdom I am fairly new to. For the majority of my life, suffering simply was an inexorable force that ground away at one's soul until one succumbs to the pain. I countered this for so many years with cold hard Vulcan Logic and the ability to reach a point of stillness that scared cats. Seriously, I could and commonly did win staring contests with cats because it was something to do and it so unnerved them. That and sneaking up on cats to spook them was really the limit to my cruelty back in those days, though I should be clear, I wasn't really me then.

The woman you've come to know here was always hidden away in fear and terror, and this "machine" that stood a post between me and the rest of the world followed without question the prime directive which was to keep me from harm. There was, in those days, no hope, no feelings to speak of, nothing so much as the welcome darkness of the hide and the waiting. It was as I've come to understand it a perfectly normal, if not completely healthy, response to Trauma I suffered at the hands of my father. I was five and what I had been assured was going to be a simple, open conversation flared over into unspeakable violence that caused me to want to die. Yeah, five years old and suicidal, so not good. Anyway I "created" this person to stand between me and my father, to protect me from ever having to go through anything like that again.

"Protect and Serve" however only worked in so much as I was able to leave life to this carefully constructed simulation of a human being that made defying the laws of physics seem trivial. I only wish I was kidding. This soldier, MY soldier, was incredible. Tough, powerful, unflappable, untouchable, immune to pain or anything else that could harm either of us. And devoid of any real emotion, body language, facial expressions, anything. With a command of rhetoric, logic, and an understanding of my father that could be used as a weapon.

Anyway, that only worked so far, and as I began coming out of my hide and giving him time off, I began a death of a thousand steps. It lead eventually to me on the floor of the "home" Earl and I had shared for years "in chains" trying to summon the strength to go upstairs and quietly take my own life. Again. That "machine" had done what it could, but I was in so far over my - our? - heads that eventually there was only so much that could be done and I was on my own. That "person" I'd created died standing a post. Sacrificed everything for a chance that I'd be safe and free. I still have some issues there.

Be it fate, bad timing, or whatever, I managed then to embark on another journey that lead me here. A journey toward survival, and astonishingly enough, HOPE of all things. In talking to a friend recently I was able to narrow down exactly how and when I found hope in my life. I'm not completely certain the dynamics of it, but I am however certain it has it's hooks into me so to speak, and that it exists. In meditations upon Entropy I've even found something so breathtaking that I'm still working on putting it to words.

But lets get back to hope. First of all I can say without question, and as a matter of simple logic it unquestionably has to exist. We all know without question that despair, or suffering (Dukka) exists. Or at least I and many people I know, are certain suffering exists. Suffering, depression, pain, or whatever you call it eventually leads to despair. Having been there, I have no doubt despair exists. So one might then say that in winter, the kingdom of hope can not be seen. In fact if you look it up, the very definition of despair is "A Complete Loss of Hope" ergo the entire existence of despair is tied completely to hope. Like Good and Evil it is functionally and logically impossible for one to exist without the other. For those who are of a more scientific persuasion, let's look at it this way.

The Law of Conservation of Energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, but can change its form.

The total quantity of matter and energy available in the universe is a fixed amount and never any more or less.

So, were we to endeavor to erase despair from the universe, we know than we cannot remove it, but only work to change it's form. What form would that take? Why hope of course. So lets look at that for a moment shall we? We know that common water molecules can exist in many states, and that changing those states is a simple process. Energy is either added to, or taken from the water molecules to change it from a liquid to a gas, or from a liquid to a solid. Heating water adds energy to the water, excites the atoms which then expand and take on a gaseous state. Conversely, cooling water removes energy, by slowing atomic activity which causes it to expand and become a solid.

Wait, WHAT?! Did she just said that water, regardless of what state it changes to, and whether energy is added or removed, expands? How is that possible? Anyone knows when you heat something it expands, and when you cool it it contracts. Maybe I read that wrong, clearly she meant to say something else right?

No dear reader, that wasn't a typo, and I did not misspeak. Water has some unique properties and behaviors associated with it, chief among them a blatant disregard for conventional responses to heating and cooling. It is in fact one of very few molecules that does this. Sure, as you lower it's temperature (slowing atomic activity and thus removing energy) it contracts to a certain point. But at 4 degrees Celsius or 39.2 degrees Fahrenheit it begins to expand again. So it does in fact expand to change states in either direction. By all means if you doubt this, look it up. It is this very property of water that makes even mountain eventually turn to dust. What is it the song says, "Solid stone is just sand and water baby, sand and water, and a million years gone by."

So, let's wander back to despair and hope shall we? The's say for argument that at a state of balance (rest) one has neither hope, nor despair, and since we know from experience that removing energy, leads to despair, adding energy can push one back towards hope. Despair is often accompanied by such things as depression, lack of energy, and so forth. Ergo, balance is lost, and despair expands to engulf everything. All hope is lost. So, then we need to add energy to despair to change it's state to either a liquid state (neither despair or hope) or really raise it's temperature further and turn it into a gas. A state where the heavy solid feeling of despair is replaced by one of lightness, of freedom, of dare I say it, hope? At this point Hope then, like water, once again expands to fill the void left by the "removal" of despair. Or from a negative state, to a positive one energetically.

Interesting, so it's NOT just water that expands to fill a volume of space when changing from one state to the other in either direction. Are you with me so far? If so, then read on...

So, how then to we change the state of despair to one of hope? If we treat it like water, we add energy. The question becomes of course how to do that. Especially when one feels like there is no hope, and all is suffering and pain with the associated lack of energy one finds there.

To be honest I cannot, and shall not attempt to speak for all the possible ways to do this, I have however figured out what it was for me, how and when energy was added and I moved from a state of life threatening despair to having a little taste of hope. And that, well that's kinda like winning the lottery. At least it was for me. To be fair, hope snuck up on me and caught me completely by surprise. Which is, in part, why it's taken me so long to figure out what happened and when.

To full appreciate what, how and when things happened for me, I need to once again backtrack. That machine whose primary job it was to protect and serve? Well that was a full time kinda thing, and it spilled over into the rest of the world. Anyone that needed to be served and protected was part of the job description. Part and parcel to that task was endless study of anything that might help. Everything from Martial arts, to Meditation (especially since Sensei was almost fanatical about meditation) to psychology and medicine became part of the job. When I was eight we were in the station wagon late one night on the way back from a trip to Canada. My Mom got sick, and while my Dad was losing his furry little mind, I herded my brother and sister away from the car, and into the rest stop where I called 911. My Sister was six, my brother four, and my father was effectively useless, almost as if we didn't exist. We'd been planing on spending the night in Plattsburg, but not like this. Long story short, as we were driving along in the rain, my Mom had her first Grand Maul epileptic seizure and it took us all by surprise. We spent the night in the hospital in Plattsburg as they got her stabilized, gave her chance to recover, and figure out what had happened.

Anyway, I studied like a a child possessed, and learned as much as I could about everything. Eastern mysticism became important because the benefits of meditation became increasingly obvious as it dramatically enhanced my abilities in terms of martial arts. Sensei taught me the old ways, where meditation was in many ways more important than all the fancy moves. I learned about Ki, and how it flows through us, and of course as my training progressed, how to channel Ki to a fine point and use it fully in martial arts. How in meditation one could and should ground and center oneself, to connect with everything around one, to "tune in and turn on" as was a popular saying in the 60s. Ki became a major part of life for me, and gave me great strength. But even then I didn't really know Ki. Sensei mentioned time and again that should I chose to follow the path further, I could learn so much more about Ki than it being a tool of a warrior. How deep states of meditation could bring peace and healing. How the way of the warrior ultimately was balance on the edge of the sword of Ki. It could be used for war and destruction, but also for healing and peace.

At the time, that was a lesson I wasn't ready for. Meditation however stuck with me, breathing and reflection were always there for me and made for an escape from the pain of living.

My thirst for knowledge and tools to make healing and growth possible took on new meaning when the despair was threatening my life. I'd renewed my studies of hypnotherapy while still with Earl because it was a tool to use to help him heal and grow. Of course meditation and hypnotherapy were helping me survive the abuse at his hands as well. I'd managed to get involved with formal education, leading eventually to certification in Hypnotherapy and I was accomplishing great things with it, but it still wasn't quite enough. Along the way, one of the Nurses I worked with in the hospital wanted to learn more about hypnotherapy and as we spent time talking, she mentioned Reiki and gave me a hands on demonstration, a bunch of sessions in exchange for helping her quit smoking. Reiki she explained was actually two Japanese words Rei and ki. Rei for "universal" and Ki for "energy" and that I might want to learn that too.

At the time I filed it away in a corner of my mind and got back to the task at hand, fighting for Earl's and my own life. There was no way I'd have the time, or be allowed by Earl to spend the money to receive training and certification in Reiki, especially since He still thought Hypnotherapy was mumbo-jumbo bullshit. His argument was that if I ever managed to get certified in Hypnotherapy, maybe I'd be allowed to look at Reiki. Yeah, I'm serious, he controlled my life that much.

By the end of 2004 we were in the middle of a horrific divorce and I'd finally managed to take my final and become a College Certified Clinical Hypnotherapist. That and three bucks would get me on the subway. I didn't have three bucks for the subway. I started looking into Reiki finally, because one of the way I'd always distracted myself from how much my life sucked was to throw myself into studying something. I might not have been able to afford it at the time, but I was bound and determined I'd get to know it really well. By late 2006 I'd managed to squirrel away just enough money to start working on a formal course of study and certification in Reiki.

Attunement involves opening oneself up to the energy, the "frequencies" as they are sometimes called, and this is often, but certainly not always done by a Reiki Master/Teacher. It is where the great cost of Reiki certification comes into the picture. Dr. Usui a lifetime or so ago received attunement in meditation but long before that Reiki had been a closely held secret of Tibetan Monks, who always meditated their way to mastery of Reiki. Though the Monks didn't call it Reiki. Dr. Usui however saw no reason for this to be a secret kept away from the world, and started helping others become attuned. Sometimes later, money became involved to where these days it can cost upward of ten thousand dollars to become attuned and certified. I wish I was kidding. Thankfully the price has been coming down and one can get Attuned and certified these days for around 1000 dollars, there are even reputable, courses that will cost significantly less than this and will give one a method to attune oneself.

Anyway, early 2007 was my first of many attunements, and a conscious decision to open myself up to a wider range of energy, and hopefully use it to help myself heal. That I could eventually use it for other people, and or chose to teach was nice if it ever came to that, but I was focused more on healing myself for a change. It was, for me, an amazing experience. That first attunement alone started changes in me that are still unfolding. Progress and growth that enabled me to finally escape the impossible living situation I was in and move to Ohio. Over the course of time I've continued my studies and growth, and have long since received full Reiki Master/Teacher attunements and Certification.

Reiki is energy, universal energy, or Ki. Master Yoda would call it the force. Han Solo has said 'Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side kid." Whatever one wishes to call it however it is the very same Ki I started learning all those years ago from Sensei, just taken out a bunch of steps. The Chinese call it Chi or Qi, and the discipline that brings healing and grow is known as Qigong. As I've said it is much older than western thinking on healing and growth.

In simplest fashion, attunement brings with it a flow of energy not previously available. Energy that raises awareness, engenders healing at multiple levels, and allows one to grow. It raises one's energy levels in ways even I'd not thought possible. It is, as it turns out, the focal point of the shift in my own journey, and when I started moving away from despair and back to the point of having some hope. So I'm living on the outskirts of the kingdom of hope now, and God willing I'll not soon be forced to move out. If anything I'm looking to move in closer as I can! So, early 2007 was when my energy levels started to shift, and hope became real for me again, all thanks to Reiki.

Yay!!! Finally, the powers that be . . .

2010-08-17T18:20:00.000-04:00

. . .have added automatic blog spam comment catching! So all those idiotic Chinese characters and sneaky hyperlinks go right into the trash! I'm so happy! Thank you Google!!! So this is a short thank you and now it's time for me to catch some sky!

Prop Hate is NOT going to the Supreme Court, probably not even to appellate court ...

2010-08-14T18:30:00.004-04:00

Okay folks, here's the skinny. First off, I need to remind everyone that all great journey's begin with a single step, and take many steps to get there.

Prop 8 being struck down is a clear win, and it needs to end right now, right here. It's not going to see the 9th court of appeals, and no one who cane really SEE wants it do go there. So it's over, done, Californian's will be free to start marrying again shortly and it's going to be a wonderful thing! Come on folks, let's not be greedy, show some support and overwhelming joy for the fine folks in California! Stop pushing to try and get this to go all the way.

Prop 8 is not, I repeat NOT the game and season winning goal, touchdown, home run, whatever you want to call it. It's just NOT. Period, end of subject, not even the brilliant legal minds want it to be. They have set their sights a bit higher and are itching to get onto the next task at hand, which for them is Maine. Yes, I said Maine. It's the next logical step in the war on ignorance and bigotry and IS necessary to be handled before the marriage issue goes before SCOTUS.

There are talented forces fighting, and winning, similar major legal battles in Massachusetts on a slightly different front that is also NOT going to SCOTUS, but is vital for when Marriage Equality gets there.

When is it going to get there?

Not as far into the future as you might think.

Here's how it's going to play out in short form:

1.) In a matter of days, a week or so at the most, Californian's are once
   again going to be allowed to enjoy the "right" to marry as they see fit.

2.) Maine's Hateful amendment is going to be fairly quickly and easily
   overturned in courts there by the same legal team that made it possible
   in California

3.) Arizona will be next, then one or two other states that I cannot see ... yet!
   The end game? Jersey will be officially upgraded to full legal marriage,
   not "Civil Unions" like it has now. Then Plaintiffs legally married  in
   California, and other states, but living in NY will help turn the tide making
   marriage legal there, and everywhere else when THAT case makes it to
   the big game so to speak.

So it's going to be a case that hasn't even started yet, but built upon the wins in California, Massachusetts, Maine, and New Jersey that is going to become a class action federal court case that spans multiple states, and federal court districts. It's going to be filed in Federal District Court in NY & Washington D.C. at the same time, and move quickly out of the Circuit court level right into the Supreme court who will then have no choice but to hear it. Why? Because it will be so large and complex a case that they will not be able to simply refuse to hear it without being guilty of bias and judicial misconduct.

It's going to be a few years from now, so just sit tight, wait for things to flow and fit together, and then enjoy the show. You heard it here first folks.

This is Cassandra Speaking for "Forward Views" all of tomorrows news, today.

I am not amused . . .

2010-08-09T02:13:00.000-04:00

Exercise my doctors have all said will cure all that ills me. Lower my blood pressure, reduce depression, help with my weight problems, Insomnia, Anxiety and so forth. So, I invested in Serenity and myself. I'm not exactly being a slacker about this having ridden over 500 miles on a bike since March 27th. New meds to help improve my sleep, pretty decent diet, LOTS of exercise and nothing.

Still not sleeping well, the meds that once knocked my on my but now hardly work at all. In the past I once lost 80 pounds in six months by walking two or three miles every other day and eating right. It's five months of some serious exercise and I have maybe lost 10 pounds?

I'm most certainly not sleeping any better, not sure if I'm really losing weight, and still fighting with everything else. And despite the clinical fact that exercise and meditation will noticeably lower BP, and that I can and have put myself into a deep state of meditation that lowers my respiration, heart rate and drops my BP about 20 points or more at the time, it stays stubbornly high. As to diet, I proved to the doctor that I couldn't eat any less by giving myself a mild case of malnutrition that showed up on blood tests. So THAT's not really a huge issue.

And yes, I'm just ranting some of my frustration here. I don't know that there is so much a major point to this as my realization I've not posted in a while and thought I should say something. I have other things bumping around in my head and heart looking for something to connect to, but nothing I can put to words yet. So I'll get there I imagine eventually.

Just a bit of an update while having a rain day . . .

2010-07-13T18:55:00.001-04:00

. . . and not riding.

First, a quick nod to my favorite Archeologist, Dr. Daniel Jackson of SG1.

I kid you not, this was today's BC comic! Daniel would be so proud. Actually I guess he is, since I have no reason to believe he's not going to catch this at some point. No doubt Jack will bring it to his attention if nothing else. Okay, so that was my Stargate fangirl gushing for the moment. We no return to our regularly scheduled blog!

Sunday found me once again in Winton woods, turning laps for all I was worth, working hard and well after dark to get in the mileage I was hoping for. Sunday of course was the 11th, and at least at that point the weather for the week of the 12th thru 16th was supposed to be a wash out. It has in fact been raining here since lat Sunday night. Loosely my mileage goal for this month is either 160 or 200 miles, which ever I can manage in the time allowed for July. My thinking was with a rained out week before me, if I hit 100 miles by Sunday, I'd still be able to get in the rest in the bottom two weeks of the month. Mainly because I still don't have the trainer for indoors yet. But I'll get there. It's only going to be really important come late December or January when it will be too cold and wet to ride outside. In the meantime I'm just really enjoying burning up the trails especially since I've once again discovered the joy of riding at night. Yes, at night, in the dark.

You see I've always had somewhat unusual eyesight. Back years ago when I spent so much time riding, I'd spend plenty of time running dark country roads at night and not even think about it. Reflectors on my bike then and now yes, but I've never really used lights. That's how unusual my eyesight is, pitch black, no moon and there I am flying along at night. Not unlike a bat, which always gave me a chuckle because I can see them flying about at night just as easily as folk see birds in the daylight. Means of course seeing the road, and or anything or anyone on it is just as easy. So Sunday the sun went down at nineish, and I still had some miles to go and the dark didn't phase me at all. But I'd forgotten how much I enjoy that sense of freedom and, almost power? No, I enjoy the ability, the capability, to see in the dark. It also means despite getting somewhat older, I still have preternatural vision. I'm more than twice the age I was back in the day when I'd be running the back roads at night, and yet, here I am, once again enjoying it.

And of course it meant when the sun set and I had miles to go I could finish the ride without a seconds hesitation. Mind you unlike the old days, I'm running dedicated trails that motor vehicles are not allowed on. So there's no risk of not being seen and run over. Should it happen that for whatever reason I decide to start road riding at night again, you can bet I'll have marker lights and be very clearly visible. In my own defense the only time I got hit by a truck back in the day it was broad daylight and all the lights in the world wouldn't have prevented the accident, but I'm NOT going to take chances again.

So by the time I was securing Serenity back aboard Jumper One, I'd completed 17.14 miles which put me up over 100 so far for the month. Made me very happy. And , as it turns out, the forecast has changed and I should be able to get out Wednesday and Thursday to knock back some miles, and then again on Saturday and Sunday. So it's beginning to look very much like I'm going to be able to make 200 miles this month after all. And you know, that makes me happy as I sit here watching it rain!

One heck of a case of déja vu . . .

2010-07-05T23:02:00.001-04:00

. . .is in effect what Gillion said to me as I stopped for some McDee's fries on the way to Burlington Kentucky's England Idlewild Park and home of some of the Bluegrass state's best single track. It's the preferred home of the Dirty Divas cycling group and I remembered this morning it was the first place I'd ever done real single track Mountain Biking. Yes, you read that right, I remembered that it was the place I experienced real single track for the first time. I remembered it this morning because it was to happen today. So on my way back to a place I'd never been before I remembered there was a McDee's on the way there.

The timing worked out perfectly as that's when Jill called. So we got to chat and I was remarking on the bizarre state of my life remembering future events. How after decades of being a SciFi fangirl, my own life was way more unusual than some of the stuff I've seen or read about in SciFi. Having trouble remembering parts of the past because of trauma, but having near perfect recall of events that technically hadn't happened yet. But they felt real to me, and the details we more than oddly prophetic, but stuff I remembered doing.

So what I knew for certain was where I was going, what I was going to be doing, and that it would all work out fine. No flats, no getting lost, no major problems, just the thrill of flying through meadows and woods, over all kinds of terrain I'd never, ever, have imagined doing over 20 years ago when I was doing so much cycling. That I'd be doing all sorts of stuff I'd never done before and would make it back to the Jumper hot, sweaty and gross, but otherwise fine.

I didn't bother digging into all the details, but went on instinct, and let my heart, mind, body and soul remember all the things I'd never done before. Which is where it kinda went slightly wonky.

My PLAN was to follow the signs, go to the first left before the bridge, take the beginners trail once or twice, and then try the intermediate if that went well. You know what they say about plans right?

Instead I took the other left before the bridge, because I saw it and had a "Yes! This is where I went..." moment and turned right. A Mile and a half, some seriously knarly single track, and one fall later I came out to the bridge. From the left. Just before the bridge. Off the Technical trail. Or at least parts of what was the old technical trail they had changed around. The map linked here is the OLD map, so I was on all new, knarly terrain. I felt like an idiot. The guys on the other hand were impressed (NOT what I was going for) that I'd just come off the technical track. That quickly turned to astonishment when I said it was my first time mountain biking and I'd taken the technical train by accident.

But it was stuff I'd remembered from the last, first time. Embarrassing that. So as Jill had said earlier, one heck of a case of déja vu!

To be honest next time, I'm going to go with something a little bit easier...

Tires, bikes and rolling resistance . . .

2010-06-26T19:49:00.000-04:00

. . . can make probably one of the single biggest differences for the recreational rider. Let's say for argument sake that for whatever reasons, you have a fairly standard Mountain bike? Doesn't matter how old or new it is, or what kind of condition it is in, your ride on pavement can tend to be less enjoyable, and more work, if you are running nice "normal" mountain bike tires. "Fat" tires as they are also at times called, have much more traction, and a greater amount of surface area that connects you and your bike to the ground. This of course means MUCH greater "rolling resistance" which in simple terms, means how fast you can go. It all means that even rolling downhill, you are going to slow down and stop much sooner with a fat tire than a thin one. That's just simple physics. Most people who first learn how to ride, do so on fairly normal, pavement oriented bicycle tires, and that is to say, pretty smooth, no real tread to speak of, and they roll really well. So we get this perception of speed and feel that kinda stays with us. So much so that our first time on a Mountain Bike with "Fat" tires can seem all wrong. Like it's slower and harder to ride than what we might be used to. Honestly, that's because it is. All that tread, and the greater surface area, increases rolling resistance on smooth, solid, paved surfaces, like streets. So if you're not soon going to be "getting dirty" as the saying goes for mountain biking, swap those knobby fat boys out for some city slicks.

While there is a big difference in wheel sizes between road and mountain bike wheels, they DO make an assortment of tires that will give you a several mile per hour speed increase, and decrease your rolling resistance significantly on a standard mountain bike wheel. Just swap out the tire and tubes and off you go. Something like the Ritchy Tom Slick Mountain Bike Tire (on the left) will do the trick and make for a very different ride on pavement. The ride will be faster with less noise, and less work for the same speed. Plus going up and down hills you're not going to have top work as hard. Plus they are a fairly inexpensive change you can make to a standard mountain bike that will give you a whole lot more pleasure if you're going to run on city streets or paved trails.

Now, if your know what you're doing, all you will need to make this change are new tires, tubes and a pump, no tools required. Few minutes per wheel with no tools and off you go! I'm not even kidding. "No tools? Is she insane? It's not possible... " I can almost hear you thinking from here.

But it is, and thanks to Asa Sales at Team Estrogen, it's easy to learn how to do it yourself! She goes into great deal about how exactly you quickly and easily change your own tires with no tools and no fuss. So there's really no reason for me to go into how to do it here, especially given what a great job Asa does. So a heartfelt thanks to Asa for doing a wonderful job of making the whole process simple and easy to understand!

Had to share this here . . .

2010-06-24T18:50:00.003-04:00

After waking up from a particularly horrific nightmare this morning the following thought sprang, unbidden from my head:

Why don't Zombies eat Psychopaths?

   For the same reason Sharks
   generally don't eat Lawyers,

   Professional Courtesy!

No, you're not seeing things . . .

2010-06-24T02:59:00.000-04:00

. . . I've made some changes to the look of my blog. Decided it was more than time. I hope I'm not catching anyone up short?

So I started the month strong in terms of getting out and riding. My plan was to cover at least as much ground as last month, if not a bit more. Each month since I got Serenity I've been increasing the distance I ride and May had me cover 54 miles. I figured I'd shoot for 60, seemed like a reasonable goal right?

Well I git carried away. By the end of the second week I was at 49 miles. Since then I've pushed on further, done longer rides in new places. 26 miles on the Little Miami Trail, 10 at Winton and then another long ride (for me) of 24.2 at Little Miami again. I've traveled through almost a dozen towns and three counties, on a bike. I set a new goal of 100 miles and promptly passed that one with time left in the month. I'm at nearly 120 miles for June and my new goal, since it's so close now, is to burn Ten Thousand Calories (10,000) for the month of June. As of this note, I'm 205 calories away from that goal and I have six days left in the month. I think I can manage that.

While so far I've not seen a major change in what the scale says, I am noticing major differences in my life. I'd not been in the saddle since Sunday and was itching to spent sometime along the river. I did what I always do and checked the weather before I decided what I was going to do. The temperature with the high humidity was pegged at 100 degrees and once not so long ago I wouldn't have even vaguely considered leaving the house. Today I shrugged and figured I'd be sweating because of the riding anyway, so what the heck, I loaded up and made my way over to Dearborn. Eight miles later and I'm not all that sweaty.

Which brings me to the biggest change. I'm no longer so much at the mercy of heat and humidity. Gotta tell you, I'm really digging it! Plus the places I've seen are wonderful. All peaceful, quiet, scenic, and natural. The flora and fauna I've been seeing, included a baby skunk today. It was so utterly adorable, but there was NO way I was going to risk getting it annoyed with me. Dearborn is so quiet and mellow I have been timing things so that my last run through is after sunset. Technically dusk really, and the moon above the river is lovely, and then there are the fireflies. Thousands of them all along the trail. It's amazing! I love it! Hopefully I'll get a chance to take the big camera down there and share the view with you all. I know the camera is more than capable of shotting some stunning night pictures, so we'll see what I manage to do. I can see some pictures in my minds eye that I want to share with you, so hopefully, I'll pull it all together and make it happen.

26.2 on a bike!

2010-06-18T17:57:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was awesome. It was fun, relaxing and completely amazing. It was also even more new records for me. Like 26.2 miles in one day. 2162 Calories burned in a single day. 13 miles one way nonstop. Set out from the parking area at a distance behind a riding team that was heading up to Loveland and back which was also my goal. Actually my goal for the day was 21 miles, which would have put me at 70 miles ridden for the moth so far. Anyway I figured I'd next see the riding team as I was still heading to Loveland and they'd already been there and were on the way back. Well sort of. I actually made it to Loveland as they were starting back. They'd stopped for a break and had something to drink and were headed back to the Avoca trailhead and parking area. We cheered each other on and they mentioned I'd made good time. They thought I'd still be heading toward Loveland as they were on the way back. Turns out I made better time than any of us expected..

My intention for the day was to make it about distance and endurance. Staying mounted up continuously and not stopping to sit or walk around briefly. Plus, this was the first time I was riding with my new water bottles and frame mounted cage for them. This way I had no reason to have to stop to fish my bottle out of my fanny pack. I figured I was going to pace myself and stay light and easy, not push for speed. I didn't keep and eye on my speed, just figured I'd settle int a gentle pace and do 10 miles per hour out and back. This was after all my first ride on this trail, so I thought I'd take it easy. Well I missed the 10mph mark. When all was said and done I was running at 11.2 mph average for the entire trip. Loveland I stopped in and wandered around briefly to get a feel for it. It's a common destination for folks riding the trail I'd heard and finally understand why. Mind you I've lived in Ohio two years now and had never been there by car.

The team of course was riding there, other people I've talked to, including one of the nurses at my doctors office rides to Loveland and back on the weekends with her Daughter. As she said, "Well we ride to Loveland, have an Ice Cream, and then ride back. I NEED that ice cream to make the trip work for me, it helps me get back after riding that far." Well I made it to Loveland, and found the place they get ice cream, and kept going. I have my ice cold riding tea that was tasty, refreshing, and really good for me. Was really nice to be able to reach down, grab the bottle and take a drink while I was riding. Really nice! Sparkling, tasty, citrus and just a hint of sweet from the honey. An entire slightly more than half liter bottle of it is only 90 calories, where as the ice cream is probably 90 calories a spoonful!

And then came the trip back. Pointed Serenity south and lit her up. Again, 13 miles nonstop of just flowing and enjoying the ride. Well, almost nonstop. There are a few road crossings where one needs to stop and check for vehicles coming, but those are just toe down, look, listen, and haul. So those I don't really count as stops. Plus cyclists are so common along this route that I was pleased when people in cars were stopping and waving me on. I really like that. I really like that a whole lot.

But it was a blessed ride, and the longest single day ride I'd done to date. 26 miles instead of the planned 21 takes me to 75 miles in for the month. On a bike. It's also 6268 calories burned this month riding. Which frankly, makes me a happy girl. A VERY happy girl. My first weight loss goal for my new life as a cyclist I set back in March when I got Serenity. My plan was to lose five pounds by August. When I stepped on the scale last night it said I've already lost 4.6 pounds. I still have a month and a half to go!

26.2 on a bike, that's the equivalent of a full marathon in terms of distance. I done good! And for those who might like to see where in the world I did this, you can just click and Google Maps will bring up all the details. Probably the most fun was to again catch up with the whole biking crew as I rolled back into the parking lot. They had just finished mounting up their bikes and getting ready to head out. All in all, a most amazing and freeing day. I also find it slightly ironic now that I've seen more of Ohio from the saddle of a bike than any other way, and that I've been to towns on a bike that I've not yet been to in a car. I've been to Loveland Ohio now, window shopped, got to see some of the town and I've never been there with my car. I have no doubt I'll be there again, in fact there's a restaurant that smelled good that I want to try. And I'll probably get there on my bike. And it will no doubt be another day of 26 (or more) miles on a bike.

Mountain biking suddenly makes sense . . .

2010-06-12T17:19:00.000-04:00

. . . or why some girls get dirty.

For years Mountain Biking never made much sense to me. That girls, women of otherwise sound mind would? Well that was a puzzlement. Not because we are any less than guys in any way, just that well, I don't know, it meant getting dirty. And not just take a quick shower dirty, but I mean really dirty, even, the horror, coming off a bike and getting beat up kind of dirty. Why would someone want to do that?

I bought a mountain bike figuring I'd work my way up to it. Suddenly getting dirty isn't such a bad thing, then again there if the fact that some people I know, respect, and admire do it and hey, they enjoy it. Dirt and all. The other thing that really helped it click? Memories of being on a horse years ago, flying through meadows, woods, along the river, around the lake. Deep, powerful memories that were awakened in me, and the feelings of freedom and flight, that so speak to my love of cycling.

I have enough trouble affording me, keeping a roof over my head and food in me. No way that I can afford a horse, or a roof over it's head, and food to feed it, or a pasture to run around in. I'd love to have a horse and be able to go riding again, but that's not going to happen anytime soon.

Which is when it hit me. I own a mountain bike. A Mountain bike WILL take me through meadows, woods, along the rive and around the lakes all I want. I can afford her, care for her, house her, and I don't need to give her a piece of land to run around in when we are not riding. Instead she sits here in the living room waiting for me to take her out.

I can take her on mountain bike trails, flowing through the terrain, enjoying the sounds and sights of nature. Together we can and do fly. I really get mountain biking now. "Smooth and flowing singletrack" now really means something to me, and one day soon, I'm going to get me some of that. I'm going to get dirty! Mountain biking now makes sense to me!

Change when you least expect it, and good things . . .

2010-06-11T19:37:00.000-04:00

. . . that happen when you don't expect it.

After the personal victory of my last post, I decided that I wanted some more of Dearborn Trail. If fact I wanted much more. So on Thursday the 10th I was back over there, this time looking to increase my distance and pace myself a bit.

I really, really, enjoyed myself, and a place that I at first thought was going to be a terrible place to ride has quickly become one of my favorites. My first time there I complained about all the spots that are marked "Cyclists Dismount" or something along those lines. Like the four tunnels and one railroad crossing. My first time there I did exactly that at every crossing on the trip out, but cheated and rode through on the way back. Turns out that one time, was probably the ONLY time, anyone really followed the signs. Everyone rides through, as now I do. Makes for a much better ride.

Which is when it dawned on me, Dearborn has quickly become on of my favorite places to ride. It has also become the longest distance single session ride I've done. Thursday it was 16.64 miles. Me in my cute little riding shorts and tank top, just flying through the woods, along and over the rivers (creeks really) to the other trail head and back I'd go. It's not as busy as Winton Woods, and people seem to pay way more attention and listen when I intone "Passing on your left." SO I don't have to stop as often for the utterly clueless who meander along a trail taking up both sides, ignoring other people who are there. The folks at dearborn, actually listen and make room for me to come by. It's refreshing, courteous and makes for a much better trip and time on the trail for everyone.

And Dearborn Trail? Oh baby I love it! There's peace and quiet there, and while it's a shortish trail, by making multiple laps I can run the distance up easily. 16.64 miles worth today. Such a pleasure! Plus because I tend to prefer afternoon rides, when the sun is going down, and the air is getting cooler I get to see the light show on the last lap. Fireflies! Tens of thousands of them along the miles of riverfront I'm running! And all those tunnels that bothered me so much on the first trip? I now shoot right through them as long as I can do so safely without risking anyone's health or mine. So change can be good. And good changes, bring good things, like a simply lovely ride through the countryside. I see rabbits, deer, gophers, ducks, geese, birds galore, and it's so peaceful and quiet there. Except of course when I shoot over the one bridge at highspeed. Now that, well it sounds like rolling thunder.

If you'd like to see where it is I'm talking about, thanks to my clever phone and the wonders of Google Maps, you can see on lap from end to end I recorded back in May. In fact you'll see thumbnails of pictures along the route too, most of which where shot be me on my first trip. The joys and wonders of tools that actually work correctly and are simple and easy to use. It's wonderful! And me, I'm growing, changing and exploring new places all the time.

Flying in style a long way from where I was . . .

2010-06-10T01:26:00.000-04:00

. . . a few short years ago.

Monday I pulled just over 13 miles on a trail in Indiana. I was thinking that I really enjoy it because it was relatively flat so I could really haul. Then I looked at the data from my cycling computer. You see I use my smart phone as a combination workout/cycling computer. Because it's GPS based, it also shows my the elevation changes in the course of my work out as well. So here I am flying back and forth over a course that is just about 4 miles end to end. Imagine my surprise to see that in that four miles there's some pretty decent elevation changes. 640 feet worth of climbing in fact. Which struck me as funny given that I was thinking of it as fairly flat. I broke some of my existing records in this session. Like a top speed of 18.95 miles per hour and 1092 calories burned in a single work out. Like maintaining an average speed of 12 miles per hour overall. And my personal favorite, the sound of rolling thunder the one bridge makes as I fly over it. It's a large steel bridge, with the travel surface being made up of wood slates that have a certain amount of give to them to account for heating and cooling. So the tires flying over them cause the boards to flex and slap. Makes the coolest noise.

By far the best part was the fifteen minutes I took to sit there soaking up the place, the sounds, smells, sights, and the sunset. The peace and quiet I could and did let soak into and through me. Grounding and centering. Which is when it struck me. I've come a long way in a short period of time. I've done a great deal of healing in a short period of time. I mean it's not just the almost thousand plus miles of distance between me and most of the madness, but it's how much I've grown and changed.

Three years ago I hardly ever left the house. When/if I did, it was usually with someone else. Rarely I'd go to one of two parks I felt safe in, and even then, I didn't talk to anyone and avoided folks like the plague. I didn't go far, or fast, and I was constantly wound up tighter than the tightest spring, waiting for the next shoe to drop. I was a complete and total basket case. Five years ago this month I'd only just had a nervous breakdown the month before, was still being stalked and terrorized by Earl and his folks. My lawyer was dragging his ass on everything because he just had no clue what it was like to be a battered woman. Plus I was living with my sister-in-law if you could call that living right up until two years ago. She was (and is) in her own way as much a mess as I, and wasn't taking her own life seriously. Often because of proximity I got dragged into her mess because I was hiding out in a room in her house. I'd have to step up with money I didn't have to keep the lights, gas, and water on because she was, is, incapable of balancing a budget or paying the bills. The house was in foreclosure, so I'm panicking to try and avoid winding up living in my car, while trying to save enough money to escape. Not a good combination as it was. I was heading to another nervous breakdown or worse.

So Monday? Soaking up the place and time I was, taking a short break from a ride that turned out to be 13 miles? Back on a bike doing some really serious cycling? Not for that moment worried about anything or anyone. Just being in the moment. An endless string of moments of that wonderful day when I was busting my tail and burning calories, but having so much fun doing it. Flying on this rail trail along the Ohio river worrying about nothing for a change an letting myself enjoy the flight. And at speeds up to almost 19 miles per hour, I was indeed flying! Flying a long way from where I was . . .

The Zen of French Toast . . .

2010-05-31T21:28:00.000-04:00

French Toast is something I have a passion for, because when it's done right, it's like a little bit a nirvana right there in your mouth. The trick is, it isn't something you just whip up in a jiffy. After all, it's toast, NOT popcorn! Like with good Fried Rice, at the absolute minimum, you need to start the day before. Really. Doesn't matter if you are starting with homemade bread, or stuff from the store, you need to pick the number of slices you're going to want, and place them on the rack in a cold oven and walk away. Thats right, just close the door, forget about it and walk away. Because I'm telling on the most over looked part of really good french toast is the bread.

Secret Number one: Stale bread.

It's such and easy part that folks overlook it. Heck, I don't even know how many people know that French Toast was, is, like Fried Rice, a way to get more life out of left overs. Day old bread is vital to good French toast. So if you leave it overnight in the oven and let it get all dried out and hard, it makes much better French toast. In fact if it's close to ready be turned into bread crumbs, then it's ready to be French toast.

Secret Number two: Foam!

Whatever you use in terms of ingredients you need to whip it up into a foam. Can't just mix it up so the ingredients are stirred. Well I suppose you can, but it works better if you really work it up onto a lather. Be it with a fork, or a whisk, really beat that batter into a foam. Put some energy into it, because the friction and motion causes the ingredients to mix better, and the proteins to bond. Foaming ot, does a better job of breaking the ingredients down so they can bond.

Secret Number three: Don't cook it too fast.

Starting with the dried break and letting it really soak up the mixture, means you need to heat it properly so that the mixture gets properly cooked all the way through. Keep in mind that undercooked eggs can be terribly unhealthy. So if the pan is too hot, the outside is going to burn before the inside is fully cooked.

So it's like meditation, mindfulness, taking the slow, deliberate approach to making French Toast. Putting the love into the food like my Mom always did. And that's how you get the truly amazing Mouthgasm French Toast. That's the Zen of French Toast.

Two months so far . . .

2010-05-27T17:48:00.000-04:00

Two months ago today I picked up Serenity. I was going to take it easy, start slowly, and make my way back into serious riding. Between weather issues, and trying to take things easy, I've only put a hundred miles on Serenity. Tuesday, I opened up my local park route and turned in 10 miles on the day. It. was. wonderful. High 80s in temp, high humidity, and a high dew point, meant I was certain to get soaking wet. I really didn't care. So I lit it up, and got good and soaked. It was wonderful. I even managed something I'd not done in 25 years that I can think of.

Now if you may recall, on my first lap around Winton Lake back on April 27th, I fell over once, and had to stop several times because I'd have fallen over if I hadn't. Had to catch up with myself, had to rest, because that day it was more than I could do to make it all the way around the lake even once.

Tuesday was a very different day. Pulled a couple of quick seemless laps around the lake without stopping and on one lap as I was flying down hill I sat back in the saddle and gently took my hands off the controls, confident I'd keep flying down the hill. Brought my arms up and out to my sides, palms down, just flying like I used to. Means I'm getting my mojo back, and am tuning into Serenity more. Balance, timing, the feel of Serenity beneath me, flying, it's just wonderful. Having things down and a relationship with my mount that allows me to just sit back and really fly like a bird, my wings fully extended was breath taking. I was just there in the moment, soaring like a bird, the wind in my wings, with just minor instinctive movements of my entire body keeping the front wheel tracking and on course. No horrible crash, just the pleasure of finally having bonded enough with my mount and reconnected to myself enough to let go of the handle bars and really fly.

It. was. glorious! And I managed to do it without falling over or otherwise crashing. Pretty spiffy that.

So far, in just sixty days, I've covered 103 miles and burned over 8000 calories. My weight hasn't changed one bit, I mean literally, not so much as a tenth of a pound. But I'm loving my bike, and loving getting out on her flying through the country side. Fresh air, sunshine, serious amounts of movement and exercise and the scenery. Damn, I should have gotten back on a bike years ago! Two months so far, but the rest of my life to enjoy cycling? Oh yeah, so worth it!

Wearing underwear in public . . .

2010-05-25T00:32:00.000-04:00

I know, it's been a while since I posted, but I've been busy with life and such. Okay, not really busy so much as distracted. I've been cycling my tush off. Or trying to. Plus getting adjusted to changes to my view of life and some deeply held notions. Like not wearing underwear out in public.

Did she say "not wearing underwear out in public?"

Yes, she did.

So as you all know, I'm back in the saddle. Mainly because I wanted the feelings and freedom associated with cycling again. So I bought the new bike, and that has lead to other purchases. Like gloves, a helmet, and even bike shorts. The gloves were "Pro Gell" fingerless gloves, the gell in the palms there to cut down on pressure while riding. Specifically the Ulnar nerve in the palms that causes, at least in my case, my hands and arm to go numb. So the gloves were a great investment. It's taken a little time to get used to how the bike feels in my hands, but it's a welcome change from having my hands go numb in the first couple of miles. So the fifteen dollars I spent on the gloves, WELL worth it! Now I go miles and miles without my hands going numb. I love it.

A helmet, didn't want to get one. I've never been much on hats or head cover of anykind. Either they'd make my head hotter, mess up my hair (yeah, I know, lame right?) or both. I also didn't want to look stupid, and well I thought having this bulky thing on my head making me hotter, messing up my hair AND making me look stupid? Well it was a bad idea all the way around no? Or is it?

"What do you call someone who rides without a helmet? Organ Donor!" -- David Perry

So I did the research and found a helmet that was well reviewed. I'd found a bunch of online reivews, including some on youtube, and it is a Consumer Product Safety Comisson approved helmet. When everything else is said and done you can spend big bucks on some facy multi-hundred dollar helmet, or you can get one for under thirty bucks. I chose that route, because I couldn't see spending all the money on something hopefully I'd never have to use. Mind you, riding without one wasn't really a choice, at least not a smart one. Some would argue the chances of hitting your head after coming up off a bike were very slim. In fact my downstair neighbor after seeing me come flying in the driveway came out and said he thought a Teenage Ninja Turtle was lurking around. So yeah, stupid looking? Maybe. But the chances of landing on one's head? Well I've been there, done that once. Really. Got hit by a truck, on my bike, over twenty years ago. So I'd already been there, done that once. I was amazingly lucky then, a head full of stiches from where I'd landed on my head, without a helmet. I KNOW from personal experience that lightening CAN in fact strike twice in the same place, so I wasn't willing to tempt fate again.

Plus I just didn't feel confident riding on the streets without head cover. The way some people drive? I mean come on, really. So I bought a helmet from Giro, one of THE names in cycling helmets. Basic black to go with my bike. Nothing fancy, but nice and adjustable, well reviewed and CSPC approved. It was designed to keep one's head cool and safe. Okay, so it's a good helmet and under 30 dollars. Now it was just a matter of getting used to it. Everything I'd read said you wouldn't really notice it, and the ventilation would keep your head cool enough that you would not feel it.

After I got it adjusted for my head, out to the streets on my first test of the new Giro Indicator helmet I bought I went. Oddly enough, my head felt cooler than riding without proper head cover, but since it was designed to channel the air and move it off your head while you ride, it made some sense. So it was just a matter of getting used to it. True to the reviews, after a few moments of riding with it, I didn't really notice it there anymore, and the absorbant pads in the helmet do in fact keep sweat out of your eyes. So that was a real, practical, using it now advantage. So, I'm now wearing my helmet when I'm riding. Despite my neighbor joking about me looking like a teenage mutant ninja turtle, I'm not really bothered by the head cover anymore.

Then came the bike shorts. Bought them a little before the gloves or the helmet, but hadn't brought myself to use them either. Why? Because it felt to me like going out of the house in my underwear. You see actual riding shorts are specially designed with extra padding and moisture wicking to keep one from getting wet, chaffed, and rubbed raw by seams on long rides. They are designed to help take pressure of sensitive parts of one's anatomy, and make contact with the saddle easier on one's body. Waering underwaer with them however is counter productive. Underwear will just absorb moisture and keep it close to your skin, the seams and elastic will rub and chaffe the skin, and basically totally defeat the purposes of the riding shorts.

But my Mom always raised me to leave the house clean, and wearing clean underwear. And she also taught me not to run around in public in just my underwear. So if I'm wearing bike shorts and nothing else, then I'm in essence running around in my undies as far as my screwed up mind worked out the logic. I even went so far as to buy regular casual wear "bike shorts" to wear over the actual bike shorts so that I wouldn't feel like I'm running around in my undies.

Yesterday I broke down, decided I was going to get over my stupid internal foolishness, and set out for a ride wearing ONLY my bike shorts. Well I was the sight. Black and grey riding gloves, black helmet, and black and grey bike shorts with Velo printed on them on a black bike withpurple trim and a purple blouse. I was quite the sight, all tricked out in riding gear, turning laps around the neighborhood. Got all hot and sweaty and by the end of the five miles I must have looked quite the sight. I was soaked.

Which once upon a time would have bothered me greatly. I mean being soaking wet, all hot sweaty and gross in public? Oh no, so not going to to do that! Or at least once upon a time I wouldn't, let alone in public in skin tight clothes. Well that was then I guess, because after five miles in 88 degree temps with 50% humidity, I looked like I'd just stepped out of a shower. And you know what, it didn't bother me. Hair soaking wet in a pony tail, clothes soaked, wearing my "undies" and a helmet. Oh but I felt so good!

And you know, that's what it's about. Feeling good, like I'd just accomplished something important. And of course the rush of natural, perfectly legal drugs flowing through my body? Well damn! All these years and I finally am addicted to something. Cycling! And in my underwear no less. Though I've fit it into my view of the 'verse like a bathing suit. When one goes swimming, one doesn't wear underwear, just a bathing suit. So I'm looking at bike shorts in the same general context. I'm out cycling.

Thanks Mom Revisited . . .

2010-05-15T21:08:00.000-04:00

I needed to run to the store for a few things. Nothing major, but just a few necessities and some more soup. So I started making a list, and assembling coupons in my purse, matching everything up. And that's when it hit me. I really had grown up to become my Mother...

When I was young, I was my Mothers shadow. Almost a mini-me of her. I watched everything she did, asked her endless questions, and filed it all away in my head.

We were not poor growing up. But my Mom, a daughter of depression era parents, was always on top of coupons. She had a filing system for her coupons, both at home and in her wallet. Coupons where sorted by type, product, expiration date and more. And she kept track of them. Whenever it was time to go to the store, she had this almost ritual of making a list, then checking what she had coupons for, and when we got to there, we'd set off in an orderly fashion to collect everything on the list.

So then I'm finally read to check out, and I've got my reusable bags ready, my coupons ready, and I'm waiting for the front self checkout register to open up. One behind it opened and "Little Grey" noticed me waiting and she said you know this one is open. ["Little Grey" isn't actually her name, but she looks so much like the actress who play's Grey on "Grey's Anatomy" that I call her that.] So I smiled and said thanks, but the one by her console was about to open and I was waiting for that because I had a stack of coupons. She said not to worry that she didn't mind walking the few feet. I smiled and said I had A LOT of coupons.

An the whole time I couldn't help but think of my Mom.

So I scanned everything in, totaled it up, hit pay now and it asked if I had any coupons and I just couldn't help but laugh. Before coupons the total was $45 and change. After all the coupons had been subtracted and the ordered totaled again $28 and some change. That's $17 dollars I kept in my pocket on stuff I was going to buy anyway. $17 dollars of basically free stuff because I kept coupons handy and used them. $17 dollars my Mom saved me by answering the endless stream of questions coming out of her special little girl.

I know I didn't say anything on Mother's day, but I honestly don't need a special day to force me to remember and honor my Mom. Because I live that way. Most of who I am, what I do, and why I do it is, in effect, a living Memorial to my Mom. And though she's not been corporeally focused in a long, long time, not a day goes by that I don't think of her. And how much I've grown up to be just like her. Thanks Mom, I miss you!

Cadence finally makes sense . . .

2010-05-13T21:24:00.000-04:00

I am not now, nor have I ever been the most technical rider on the planet. Frankly I've spent more on riding in the last two months than in my entire life up until April combined and multiplied by a factor of 100. Up until now, Cadence was one of those things that other people worried about who were racing or whatever.

Recently it just clicked in my head. The light bulb went on!

Obviously, I'm still getting to know Serenity. She's still in the break in period, and because she's a brand new, never before ridden ride, and of a type I've never had before I'm still learning. Or re-learning, things I knew, things I never really thought about.

Like the difference between spinning or grinding.

In some of my early rides with Serenity I was making better speed up some hills and it seemed like my legs were having an easier time of it. Recently the same hills seemed like I'd lost ground, going up them slower, pushing my legs harder, getting less cardio out of the hills than I was. Couldn't make sense of it, why where they harder now than when I first started riding again. Which is when it hit me. Cadence.

I'd been reading some articles on the subject, and my recent issues just clicked finally. Some of those earlier rides where done with the middle chainring because using the larger one kept causing the chain to come off. I've long since had that issue fixed, so I've gone back to powering through the hills. Just pushing my legs to make it, using only the rear gears to get there. 21 available gears and I'm only using 7? Well that's just silly no? So yeah, I've not changed, the gears I was using changed.

So when on the morrow I'm taking that hill, I'll remember to downshift.

From a technical standpoint as I'm starting to understand it, I'll get better use of my muscles, less build up of lactic acid, faster recovery and it will be better for my whole body. In my floating around the net reading, and learning, I've found even Lance Armstrong has radically changed his riding and training style to favor "spinning" over "grinding." Or simply put using a lower, easier gear to do the same job done.

Share The Road . . .

2010-05-11T23:19:00.000-04:00

. . .not just in May because it's National Bike Month in the US (Who knew?) but all year long. And the doesn't just mean with cyclists either. Bikers (Motorcycles) and Pedestrians have a right to be there as do joggers and cars.

I've been reading articles about the subject as I'm about to head out and start riding on the roads too. Well as soon as my helmet and gloves get here Thursday I will. It's something I've always been careful about, then again I'm very careful when in the car in general. Which I suppose is why I've managed to avoid getting tickets for so many years. Then again I'm the brunt of jokes because I'm told I drive like the proverbial little old lady from Pasadena. I think it has as much to do with not wanting to being in a rush, as it does with obeying the law. I'm allergic to rushing. Really, I'll break out in a rash.

Anyway, rushing not withstanding, it's as much about respect as it is about safety, and does have to do with rushing as well as law. And not just with cyclists. Bike riders are every bit as much in danger as cyclists and for the same reasons. People who drive cars think they OWN the road. In fact KTAR-FM guest host on an Arizona radio station said:

"The roads were made for cars. And bicyclists share the road, but sometimes they think they own the road."

The historical reality is that roads as we know them today started out because of wait for it... Cyclists! Back before cars even existed dirt roads were fine for horse drawn vehicles. Riding bikes however on dirt roads, especially in the rain? Not such a good plan. Cobblestones gave way to asphalt and or concrete. Mind you it wasn't the only reason, but it was one of the reasons, and cars didn't even exist yet. It started in Europe long, long before here.

And the irony? Horses don't like cyclists! Why? Because they dart in and out, don't follow the rules, have no respect for horses... Sound familiar?

So not only is the claim roads were created for cars ignorant, it's also historically inaccurate.

So we have that.

There is also the fact that trucks have no respect for cars, and so on. Folks claim size matters, and it an age old problem, and it's not just limited to cars and two wheelers. Respect is in great demand and amazingly short supply, and the supply is getting shorter.

And the law, doesn't really care. As a cyclist I can be arrested for DWI on a bike and it will carry the same impact on my license as if I was driving a car. And of course don't even get me started on big rigs. We all have to follow the same laws.

So let's ALL share the roads. Drive defensively, consider everyone as you do regardless of what you drive. And please keep in mind if your big rigs hits one of our "four wheelers" airbags aren't going to save us. If your driving a four wheel vehicles, please keep in mind we don't have airbags to say the very least.

So everyone be more careful, more respectful of anyone you share the roads with.

Okay, now that was interesting...

2010-04-27T23:13:00.001-04:00

Yesterday the rain stopped just long enough for the pavement to dry and I kinda flipped. I knew if I put Serenity on the Jumper and made my way to the park it would start raining again. Not wanting to take a chance, I took a different kind of chance. I took to the surface streets. Something I wasn't planning on doing for a while yet despite the fact that I used to ride on the road all the time. I was also not planning on it until I'd gotten a helmet.

But after four days I really needed a ride. At first I was going to ride in circles in the parking lot where I live. But going in circles wasn't much fun. Five circles and I flipped out. I couldn't take it, I NEEDED to ride. A block from my house was a nice quiet neighborhood area that I'd looked at as a possible place for some quick rides in the future. Now was as good a time as any. So I went over there. The route I'd mapped was a mile of very quiet blocks. Five laps later, the rain started to fall again and I took off for the house.

It was still very cold, and as I started out my hands and feet were freezing, but I needed to ride and knew once I got going I'd heat up. Sure enough the cold start didn't last long and soon I was flying and in the zone. The huffing, puffing, heavy breathing, heart pounding, body complaining quickly melted away to that "Ahhhhhh, Oh YES! I so needed this!!!" Feeling that keeps me going back. The cold wind in my hair, on my skin, became a welcome friend once again, the legs and my whole body settled into the rhythm and was rewarded once again with that thrumming of the tires as we fly across the terrain. Sweet, blessed, freedom and release. No longer a rider on a machine, but a great, beautiful, bird in flight, lofing on thermals, swooping, diving, flying and pumping into climbs to catch the next thermal. Serenity became and extension of me, and I of her.

And then it was all so easy, so rewarding. and I lost myself to the blending. I warmed right up, my breathing slowing to blend in with the pace of my legs, my blood coursing through me, my energy flowing and melding with the joy of flying, the power gained from the work. And I was gone, frustrations, fears, anxiety, depression, life for the moment behind me and receding like earth dropping away from a ship finally free of atmo and into the embrace of space. For a moment I was firmly in that moment, fully present, soaking up everything as I flew through it. The smells of the grass, the life around me, the trees, birds and all the life reaching out to me and I to it. The neighborhood dogs, who barked once and I said hi part of them, part of me, touching for just a moment and they god catch up in the flow. Chase in an instant became a taste of freedom for them as they switched from pursuit to running with me, their gate changed and settled into that free, comfortable loping dogs will do when happy and free to run. Aggressive chase energy melted away to them enjoying the experience and running with me. And for just a moment they were free and flying to!

Words do not justice to the experience make, but at least I can with these typed characters help guide you dear reader to a hint of the feelings and sensations.

Yes, I know better than to ride surface streets with out a helmet, but I needed that so badly. I needed out of my water logged cage for some time in the sky. Or as my friend Laura calls it rideitation! Mindfulness, being fully present in that moment of flight, stretching into the next, everything left behind me for a while. One lap melted into the next, and the next, and the overwhelming joy I was awash in spreading out and around me.

And then, after five laps of a mile each, the first drops reached me and it was time to stop. I set course for home and punched it. Made it back to my building before the sky really opened up on me only to be met by my down stairs neighbor:

"Wow, I saw you go flying out of here and thought to myself 'Where is she going so fast?' So when I saw you come coasting back in figured I'd come up briefly and chat. I thought you said you weren't brave enough for the streets yet? That it would be years? Are you okay? What happened? You'd said you wouldn't even think of it without a helmet?"

"Four days of rain is what happened! I rode a couple circles in the parking lot, saw dry pavement and just lost my mind for a moment, I really needed to fly! I needed to spend some time flying."

"Well that's what it looked like as you flew out of here. You looked like a bird flying by my window so fast!"

So we chatted briefly before going our separate ways and as I took Serenity up the stairs and down the hall it struck me.

Holy Hannah I rode on the streets!!!

For a moment, more really, I was whole, complete, not afraid, not the discarded wretch of a woman Earl had life by the side of the road, but a woman in the saddle and flying again like I used to do before Earl came along. I wasn't the scared, disaster of a woman in recovery by was once again strong, confident, careful, graceful, wonderful and almost whole again! I connected with a part of me I'd thought lost to me forever. Another step toward progress and recovery found on a cold, wet, dark day in a small quiet neighborhood in Ohio!

Back in a time before Earl, before I knew anything, before I had access to parks and trails all I had were the streets around me. And I flew then too. I covered miles, cities, even states on my bike. It was all I had. A beat up old Ten Speed, the clothes on my back and miles and miles of roads to explore. It was freedom, escape, release, and moments of peace away from my Father and his madness. I was strong, confident, careful, graceful, wonderful and whole. I knew nothing about the years of terror and pain that lay before me, and I was free from the horrors of my life then. I was in my sky flying!

So today, now that was interesting, and completely unexpected.

"I'm moving on..." -- Rascal Flats

Yup, Plan B, works every time!

2010-04-26T19:16:00.000-04:00

As of my last post the following conditions were in fact true. Jumper One was in need of additional repairs. Repairs that were going to be more than my typical monthly discretionary spending allowance. Which means of course waiting, because of the amount in question, at least two full months to get her repaired. I also need to procure at very least a helmet and an indoor training mount for Serenity.

The helmet for obvious reasons. So far I've been riding without a helmet and being extra super careful. But it's not wise, and having come up off a mount once, and landed on my head ...

(Go ahead, insert joke here, I'll wait...)

...I better than most people know how important a riding helmet can be. Many years ago, while out riding, on the roads mind you, I got hit by a truck. My bike of course was totally, it made it under the wheels of the truck. I somehow got launched into the air and came down on my head. I don't remember anything after that split second when I saw the truck and though: "Okay, this is NOT good." I woke up three hours later in the ER in pain. That's three hours I'll never get back, but the story from multiple sources says that I was awake and "functional" if in shock the whole time. Apparently the women who hit me was a bit upset and thought she'd killed me. Wasn't made any better by the fact that as the ambulance showed up I sat bolt upright quite suddenly, looked directly at here and with a perfect British accent calmly said "Madam it appears my brains are scattered about the payment, would you be so kind as to help me collect them and place them back into my skull? I would be ever so grateful." Needless to say that didn't go over well at all, she then had to be sedated and taken to the hospital as well.

Anyway, a head full of stitches, and a year of therapy for the soft tissue in my back to heal later, I was mostly okay...

So now of course I'm not going to temp fate a second time by riding on the road without adequate head cover. It's bad enough I've been riding in the park that way. Plus there is a cancer ride coming up in June I want to get ready for, and they won't even consider letting one ride without head cover. So, it's kinda a given that I MUST get one.

Which brings me back around to the point of this post in relation to the last one. I have only so much discretionary income to play with, but things I need to do sooner rather than later. And my growing frustration with not being able to ride more regularly. I need an indoor trainer, if for no other reason than when the weather turns to yuck, I'll be able to ride anyway. That's another big chunk of money I don't have right now. In fact, the helmet and trainer I've picked out alone are an entire months discretionary fund that I should be saving to finish my move. But I really, really need a trainer. It's been four days or so since I was last in the saddle and this is making me crazy. Today and tomorrow are also washouts because of rain. Wednesday the weather is going to clear up, I'll be able to ride for two days, and then it's back into thunderstorms and rain until Wednesday again at the earliest. It's not fair. I just want to state that up front. NOT FAIR!

This is also usually when the "plan" SG1 was running to get themselves out of trouble goes horribly wrong and it's time for plan B.

O'Neill: "Carter I think it's time for plan B"

Carter: "Sir, we don't HAVE a plan B!"

O'Neill: "Well we've been in worse situations than this, we'll figure something out."

Carter: "Sir? Ah, no Sir, we haven't been in worse situations than this!"

O'Neill: "We'll figure something out, we always do. Or do I have to make that an order?"

Carter: "Yes Sir."

So they eventually figure something out, save the day and make it back thru the gate to home, safe and sound. At which point O'Neill invariably says: "Yup, Plan B, works every time!"

So last night as I was writing in my diary, I re-earned one of my nicknames, which of course for those of you who don't know is in fact Carter for a reason. I want and need to get the Jumper fixed because it's the only one I have, and driving it this way is asking for a ticket that I cannot afford. And it's still Spring, so the preponderance of rain is likely to continue into May and that's making my crazier.

So it's time to actually do something I keep finding reasons not to do. More than time. I have a sequestered savings account that I've been putting money into now and then. Little bit of my discretionary fund every month goes into it. It's there primarily to fund the rest of my move and as a rainy day/emergency fund. Yup, plan B!

Rain for a week straight is bad enough. Another week in the offing? Oh yeah, if this doesn't count as reason to break the seals on the rainy day fund I don't know what is. Emergency repairs on the Jumper? Yeah, so that covers BOTH the Rainy day and Emergency portions of our program campers. Reasons enough I think to dip into the fund and take a little out.

Yup, Plan B, works every time!

Decisions! Bah!!!

2010-04-24T21:02:00.000-04:00

Mashing of teeth, pulling of hair, frustration sparks a confluence of anguish!

See here's the thing. Couldn't ride today. Not at all. Not even around the parking lot. It's cold, wet, raining, dark and otherwise yucky! And we're under a Tornado watch. But I want to ride. I need to ride. As it stands the earliest I'm going to get to ride is Wednesday!

So Jumper One needs another two hundred dollars of work. She's completely drivable and safe, but she sounds like a Patrol Boat. LOUD! The pipe from the cat to the muffler is broken. It's going to take me two months, maybe one if I really scrape, to get her repaired. In the meantime I'm going to be limited to when and where I can ride because without the back pressure (I think that's what it's called) of the muffler she's sucking down gas like an addict. Plus I don't want to risk someone having a bad day and deciding to give me a ticket for no muffler. So aside from short trips to the supermarket, or over to the park to ride, I'm not going to be driving her much. Which means I'm not going to get to ride as much as I'd like.

Before the winter I MUST get an indoor trainer. It's a mount that turns Serenity into an expensive indoor exercise bike. But it means all winter long I'll be able to keep riding. If I had one NOW, I'd be riding. Raining yucky days wouldn't stop me. Stick in a video and ride.

So here's the thing. Do I wait a bit longer, get a mount first, so that days like this won't keep me from riding? Or do I fix Jo first and have to wait a couple of extra months to get a trainer? Months when it will rain and I won't be able to ride.

Death is Irrelevant, Dying is futile...

2010-04-24T20:02:00.000-04:00

Life:

The clutches of a thousand deaths behind me,
The momentary shock of ultimate silence,
The Majesty of light,
The Myth of Time.

I've died a thousand times if I've done it once,
And yet I've been too busy living to let it take me.

Death is silence, a pause, a timeless moment to reflect,
Death is a breath taken over morning coffee,
Death is fleeting and gone in the blink of an eye.

Dying takes time from living of a life full of wonder and light.

Acknowledge it and move on,
Back into the light of living.

Mindfulness is immortality in action.
Simply being in an eternity of light.

Little Miami River Scenic Trail and Greenway.

2010-04-14T22:46:00.000-04:00

So, not being content to simply ride in circles, and very much wishing to continue my process of healing and growing, I've been actively looking for other places to ride. I've even gone and ridden one such place, that I knew of from having traveled under it by water in Indiana. It was just over seven miles round trip, and with the exception of four tunnels they want you to walk through, and of course the powerplant, it's a lovely, scenic journey. I even took some pictures of it, they are available, power-plant, tunnels and all on my Flikr page in a set called Dearborne Trail Indiana. Tunnels and power-plant not withstanding, it's a glorious, peaceful, scenic ride along the Ohio River.

My investigations have turned up other interesting options as well. Miami White Water Forest for example. There's also a set of pictures from my brief field trip to explore at least part of that park, called Miami White Water Forest. I've since been there to ride the Shaker Trace Outer Trail, which while more of a challenge physically than Winton Woods, is utterly glorious in it's simple beauty and to be honest, reminds me so much of New England that I am way less homesick. Rolling hills, Wildlife, Wetlands and Bird Sanctuary space, the Miami White Water lake itself, Dry Fork Creek, working farmland, forested areas and abundant wildlife make this paved multiuse trail a real treasure for anyone, let alone a misplaced New England farm girl like me. Plenty of places to set up a small grill and have a BBQ and even trail access for Horseback riding make this a real gem in the Hamilton County Park system. And I get unlimited access to this park, Winton Woods, and all the rest for five dollars a year for a parking pass. Oh the horror! Five dollars? To park at the parks, all year long? Worth it at four times the price!

Finally that brings me to my point in this post. The Largest paved multiuse trail in the United States. The Little Miami River Scenic Trail and Greenway. End to end it is well over 70 miles long and connects the South Western most portion of the state of Ohio with the North Eastern most corner. It also connects to numerous East to west trails along the way. Miles and miles of terrain through all sorts of land it covers everything. Forests, Rivers, Farms, Cities and even takes one past Ohio's own version of Six Flags called Kings Island. Giant combination water park and amusement park.

Anyway, there exists a mountain of information about the trail online and where it goes, but precious little about where exactly one can park and how much it will cost. Blah, blah, blah details aplenty, but precious little in terms of facts about really important things, like where to put my car and how safe is it? So, like most things in my post Earl life I decided some controlled recon would be a good thing. Especially since there exists a map of the trail, trail heads, and distances between points, but no real talk of parking. So, I took a day to go exploring, looking for parking, determining threat and traffic levels and getting a feel for it before I think about taking Serenity over and committing myself to a ride.

Maps and such were no help really, because they don't really show were parking is. I knew of only one place for certain that I could park, but that wasn't primarily a parking spot for the trail but a golf course. My plan was to tell my magic phone to take me to the golf course and I'd snoop from there. Except my phone wasn't co-operating. At all. Nothing. GPS mapping totally not working. Start it up, it shut down. And again. Fine, I don't no steenking computers! I knew generally where I was going, turned on terrain seeking in the GPS in my head and went hunting for the river. Yes, I have a kind of a GPS in my head, pretty much always have. Plus it's got some of the extra features only the really complex kinds have, like terrain seeking. Which means I can follow ridge lines, navigate based on elevation and avoid, or find, high points. Kinda cool.

Found a wonderful little spot for meditation and a picnic over looking the Little Miami river valley called the Mariemont Concourse. It's beautiful, so I stopped, soaked up the sun and sights, took some pictures and confirmed I was heading in the right direction since I saw one of the train trestles crossing over the river down below me. Plus it made for a wonderful break in my day.

Once done from there, I went down into the valley heading for the river. and what should I find, right there at the junction of Newtown road and Route 50? Bass Island parking and trail head for the Little Miami River Scenic Trail! Woot, found one! More on that to follow!

Bass Island Trailhead and Parking.

2010-04-14T19:01:00.000-04:00

2010-04-14 19.01.32, originally uploaded by greeneyedggirl.

So here we come to my first success in my day of exploring and looking for trailheads. Being that it's a full recon, it of course means pictures and, oh the horror, talking to complete strangers. By clicking on the photo, you can get to the set of images I took while at Bass Island. Hopefully you'll enjoy, you can even click on MAP to see where in the world the pictures were taken.

So I park, get out of the Jumper elated with my success at finding an actual trailhead with dedicated parking and began my mission of standard recon. You know, Meet and greet with the locals, establish possible threats and determine available resources and costs associated with this gate address. Yes, I know, too much Stargate and Firefly for me. I mean a car named Jumper One, and a bike named Serenity going on standard recon?

Well, look at it this way. In both of those shows we have people going to new places and exploring right? In Firefly it's Serenity and her crew taking jobs, which involves meeting new folks, doing stuff with them staying out of trouble and getting things done. In Stargate it's also other planets, in Star trek, going back to the 60s it was ships and transporters, but it was all the same basic concept.

For me, in my post Earl life, the entire world is a strange and alien place filled with danger, threats, aliens,and possible places to explore and benefit from. Be it Geocaching or Cycling, it's getting out, doing and oh dear, interacting with possibly dangerous Aliens who might try to harm me. Cache Addresses actually follow a naming convention similar to gate addresses, and otherwise, places have names. In fact, I have no doubt that there are caches in the area of the trail, so this could have a "P" designation in Geocaching.com.

In fact, there are indeed caches right here, like GC17TCW which if I'd thought about it, I'd have hit while I was here. D'oh! Well I was hyper focused and as nervous as a long tail cat in a room full of rockin chairs. The joys of PTSD I guess. Picture Colonel Carter in full gear, P90 exploring a new place, and well that was pretty much me. GC17TCW wasn't on the mission list, so I didn't look. Since I'll be back there, I'll do it then.

Worse, far worse than the finding caches was the meet and great with the locals part of the mission. No P90, no Zat, no M9, no one covering my six. The parking lot was full of cars with bike racks on it, this bode well for mission success. In fact as I was standing there looking around, a minivan pulled in with bikes strapped to it! Ah, LOCALS! I watched as they got out of the van and set about taking down the bikes. Screwed up my courage, swallowed my sheer terror at what I was about to do and quietly approached and simply said:

Me (smiling): "Excuse me, would you mind if I asked you a question?"

Him (also smiling): "Yes Ma'am? Oh, I mean, no Ma'am I don't mind if you ask, how can I help you?"

Me (smiling more): "I read about this trail online and I came out looking for places to park and get a feel for the place. Do you ride here often?"

Him: "Well I think you have the parking aspect handled since you're here, the trail itself, yeah we ride here regularly. Been doing it for a while. It can be very busy at times, so there can be traffic, but otherwise it's a wonderful place to ride."

Me: "Do you always ride together, or is it safe for a woman alone?"

Him: "Well I've never seen or heard of problems, but my girlfriend can probably answer that better than I can. She got me riding here."

Her: "I've never had a problem and I often come here by myself. The trail is pretty much always busy with plenty of people walking or cycling and I've never been bothered. So you should be fine here. I've been up as far as Loveland, and that's more than ten miles one way. Rode up to there from here, had a nice lunch and then come back, it makes a nice day. It's pretty much all uphill getting there, but then you can pretty much fly back because it's all downhill. Not really hard hills, because this all used to be train tracks. I've met other riders, stopped and chitchatted now and then and every one is friendly and non-threatening. You should be fine. I'm not the only woman that rides here solo, so you should fit right in. Between here and Loveland there are plenty of other parking areas and bathrooms along the way so that's never a problem either."

So I thanked them and let them get on with riding and started taking pictures. I spoke to a few other women who were coming back from rides and not one said she'd ever had a problem or felt uncomfortable riding alone. One had in fact just come back from past Loveland and said she's always riding there because it is peaceful and quiet.

Because this is in my home county, and part of the county park system, I can safely park here as much as I want, as long as I want. I spend the five dollars every year and get a parking sticker that's good all year! The parks are patrolled so I don't have to worry as much about the Jumper getting a ticket or towed because I have the sticker in my window. This is great news! With plenty of day light left, I figured I could explore further. Following the terrain was a success so far, but a sign indicated that additional parking was available at the nearby Little Miami Golf Course. That was going to be my next stop!

Mariemount Concourse

2010-04-14T18:31:00.000-04:00

2010-04-14 18.31.33, originally uploaded by greeneyedggirl.

Over looking the Little Miami River Valley at the edge of a sharp drop, we have the peaceful and lovely Mariemount Concourse. It's quiet, peaceful, serene and off the beaten path. This is one of a number of pictures in this set you can browse. Next Up, my experiences at Bass Island Parking and Trailhead!

I know that voice . . .

2010-04-10T16:01:00.005-04:00

. . .it is the voice of the Cylon Imperious Leader! - Baltar to Count someone or another in the original BSG.

This Count, argued that the Cylons were built a thousand years ago, and for it to be HIS voice, it would have had to have been recorded into the Machine leader a thousand years ago, making him at least a thousand years old.

The allusion there is that "evil" comes in many shapes, sizes and looks, and is in effect timeless.

Last night after exchanging another few less than positive emails with "My only living blood relative" (his words, NOT mine) it struck me that I knew that voice!

I've had, in the years since my life with Earl, an amazing education. One that all while being amazing, is soul chilling in it's import. Between Lovefraud.com and my friend Laura, I've had my eyes opened to a whole new part of the 'verse I never really understood or I suspect believed really existed.

"Evil" exists, and it is all at once more pervasive and insidious than I'd ever have dreamed, and more subtle and alluring to one who cannot see. I dislike labels, frankly they feel like straight jackets for living. Often preventing life from thriving. Sometimes however knowing something or someone for who or what they really are, can save one's life and soul. Now and then, while I am normally loath to label, let alone judge anyone or anything, I must call a thing by it's name. So that I know, and it knows I have seen through the layers of facade and gazed upon the true face of evil. It is said that knowing a demon's true name gives one control over it. In some ways being able to see now as I do, past the veil of lies, shines the light of day on something for my own health, happiness and well being I must, at all costs avoid.

Psychopaths are real. Psychopaths are dangerous even in small doses and no good can come of them. Nothing I say or do is going to help them be better people, let them find healing and light, I serve no good purpose by being drawn into their web of evil. In my life before Earl I knew that evil was real and existed, but I could not, would not see it because I didn't really no what I was looking for. And because I was way, way more innocent than I am now, and always thought the best of people.

My so called "only living blood relative" has been something of an open sore in my life for the last 41 years. Being a number of years older than him was hard enough. Being the healthiest of three children my mother had, I was everything that he's never been. He was born sickly and premature, and my folks over compensated some, then because he has allergies that I do not, my father went on the warpath to keep him from dying. So to start, he came into the world over protected and being waited on hand and foot. He craves attention, I was always happy being off somewhere quiet reading by myself. He was violent, loud and very physical, aggressive, and I was none of these things. We had almost nothing in common. He thrived on confrontation and I broke out in hives from it.

He always needed other people to do for him, provide for him, give him things, and even I got sucked into this for many, many, years. When I think about the money I spent on that child for food and rent alone, I shudder.

We parted company a bunch of years back and I was for a goodly while lost to the world because of Earl. So of course once out of Earl's clutches I set about finding all the people I'd lost, including him. It has been, to say the least, a trouble filled relationship, even more so than it had been. His life has been, to hear him tell it, pure hell in the years I was missing. My life on the other hand doesn't even register in his version of the universe.

Anyway, I've been having, as I always have, trouble getting along with him. I won't belabor the details because they are not relevant to where I'm going with this. What struck me now with these new eyes, this new life I've been unceremoniously thrust into, is that his history is as much a product of his nature as are the problems in having a relationship with him. He is, for whatever that may mean for him, or what it says about me, a psychopath. Probably high order Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and given his history of hospitalizations for being a threat, a danger, to others on the extreme end something not just I have seen. Everything is about him, if one is not actively serving his compulsive need for worship and believing every word he says with complete devotion, you are useless to him. Question, even in passing any of the grandiose and completely impossible lies that he uses to prop up his fantasy world, he becomes violent and abusive. When he was fourteen they took him off to involuntary confinement for attacking my Sister and father with a ball peen hammer. I only wish I was kidding. I only found out later because I wasn't living there at that point.

He was married, several times, and one of his hospitalizations started as a criminal arrest for assault and battery on his wife. Because of his history of mental health issues, including the extreme form of bipolar disorder, and his repeated overtures to suicide, an involuntary committal in a psychiatric facility. He's a mess on so many levels, and like anyone else that's ever been around him, I'd been stuck in the amber of his tale of woe, and his charm. He's a conman. Big time con artist.

So over the last three years, I've been increasingly putting him on restriction, limiting or completely removing access to me for his regular period so abuse. He spins these tales, that anyone who actually lives in this world would question, and then becomes violent and aggressively so in his "defense" of his outlandish claims. Over time he went from being able to call me at all hours of the day and night because HE needs to be adored and worshiped to only being able to reach me by e-mail and snail mail. Recently I've cut that back to snail mail only. Why? Because even the email had become violent and abusive, all about the grandeur that is him, and how the rest of us were like dust beneath his boots.

It began with my frustration over his pathological need to inflate his own place in the 'verse. The constant lying, especially the ones that conflicted with reality, or worse, the other lies he maintained as the truth of his life. He is, in point of fact, a pathological liar. And then the rest of the patterns of our interactions started to coalesce in my head and heart. So familiar, so known, and so terrifying. Everything about my relationship with him, and his relationships with others over his entire life, has been about the greater glory of HIM.

Oh dear God, another? Yes, he's a pathological liar, he's got health issues galore, he's a charming and consummate bull shit artist, and he uses and then disposes of people who no longer fulfill his needs. He's a psychopath and I'm on a diet. A psychopath free diet.

Like most women I dislike diets of any kind, and I go off them now and again because, well, it's what I do. But I know that voice now. It IS the voice of the Cylon Imperious Leader, and I'm not so soon going to fall under it's spell again anytime soon. I have to be rigorous in my diet, I cannot allow myself a moment of weakness, psychopaths, narcissists, are SO BAD for me. And my brother is clearly one.

So I cut him off from email. The software is configured at the server level to automatically return unopened, any email he sends my with a big warning on it: BLOCKED BY SPAM FILTER.

If he really, really needs to reach me, he has my snail mail address, but I rest easy knowing it will never come to that. Write a letter? Put it in an envelope and mail it? That's beneath him because it requires HE do something. Yeah, I know that voice. And I don't have to listen anymore.

Love remembered, it begins . . .

2010-04-01T04:01:00.004-04:00

Almost two years ago I moved to Ohio in self defense. It was what I could afford, and what I could handle. Not ideal, but better than any of the alternatives. Shortly after moving here I needed to find a replacement for my park in Denver. Denver has an amazing park system, and Washington Park may not be it's crown jewel, but it's a place I adore and had my heart set on once again spending time in when I got home. Forces well outside my control conspired to force me to wait on moving home. Probably the only one more crushed that I didn't get back to Colorado is my sister Pam. She's STILL angry with me for not going home. But that's not why I'm here.

So, I'm in Ohio, and know nothing about the area other than the fact that it's going to be home for a while. I did what any half way intelligent 21st century woman would do and went out to the internet for someplace like my park here in Ohio. It had to be relatively safe, quiet, scenic, have a lake, trees, grass, places to have a picnic, and a trail around the lake to enjoy walking upon. Winton Woods fit the bill nicely. Mind you this included looking at satellite photos, terrain maps, and of course the park systems website.

So once slightly settled in, I went to the park to do some exploring. Walking around the lake I'm soaking in the sights, sounds and smells of this new area. I am an unabashed sensualist. Walking in a park for me is all about all the little things. I am also a survivor of horrific violence at the hands of other people. Part of that is PTSD, which includes "Hyper Vigilance" a fancy way of saying I notice everything and react to it as a potential threat with a defective fight or flight mechanism. Marry those two conflicting drives, and it can make life interesting to say the least. Friends marvel at my ability to hear cars coming as we are walking around the neighborhood before they can be seen, or the ability to smell a restaurant from two miles away making something I want to try. They don't understand why when a car backfires I dive for cover and turn ghost white. It's a blessing, it's a curse.

Anyway, I'm walking in Winton Woods and there is this unmistakable sound behind me, and then a cascade of feelings and emotions before I can think to turn around. The sound is getting closer and I stop dead in my tracks KNOWING what is coming. Awash in a torrent of memory and emotion that for a change isn't horrific, the source of the sound reaches me and then goes flying past. A person on a bike, cycling around the lake. And my already green eyes, turn a darker shade of green that is both envy and longing at once. And that's when I know, that should be me. I should be mounted up, the wind in my hair, the world flying past, my legs pumping, blood coursing as I'm free once again and soaring along on two wheels.

And just like that the fuse is lit! Ten short minutes later that same person on a bike goes flying by ... AGAIN. In the time I've walked two tenths of a mile lost in longing and memory, they've made it around the lake, the entire 1.7 miles. Me, I'm still stuck there on the ground, plodding along. Ten minutes later, swoosh! And then I'm done for, the wheels in my mind, the longing in my heart starts gently pushing me. "That could be YOU! You KNOW how good that feels, what happened to you that you got off that bike years ago and never got back on? You need that!"

So I started looking and yet not. In Target I avoid the part of the store where they have the bikes because I can't afford to pay attention, let alone pay for a bike. From my heart and mind: "Yeah, SO?"

But I have to save to get everything out of storage and then I'll have a little bit of money to get a bike.

"Yeah, SO?!?!?"

But I have to prioritize, I have to budget, I have to survive, I . . .

"YEAH SO?!?!?"

Doctor tells me I need to get more exercise, weight is to high, BP is too high, deal with it child or your gonna die. Suddenly I HATE walking around the lake. HATE IT!!! Grr, HATES IT FOREVER!!!

Because it's not flying.

I walk a lap now and again as the cyclist flies past me and my heart and mind simply say "Yeah, so?"

I start walking past the bikes in Target, start looking online. Start trying to figure out how I can manage this. I need to get back on a bike. I need that feeling. My mind conspiring with my heart adds that cycling is dramatically more efficient than walking in terms of both weight loss and BP. Walking is like paying the minimum balance on your credit card. It'll take fifty years to pay it off if ever. Cycling is like paying four times the minimum due. Much better the mind says, and the heart? "Come on you KNOW how much you love it, you know how it feels, you know you want and need it."

Traitors!

In the store a perfect Purple bike, and room on the card. It's just under a hundred dollars, brand new and PURPLE! Oh God it's perfect. I'm in love. I almost fall. Almost.

I go home and look it up on line. Not so good are the reviews, if your going to go cheap like this, get a used bike on Craigslist you'll be better off. The reviews are not good. "I know, but it's PURPLE!!!"

More time and the beast inside quietly grows hungrier waiting there for the moment to pounce. And the cyclists fly past me, taunting me, I make one lap for every ten they make. I get frustrated every time and leave after a single lap.

Meds for BP, frustration with not being able to lose weight and the dawning realization that I need both hands to get up off the floor. Very not good. And of course that little whisper "You could go to the Y and ride one of those bikes that goes nowhere with all those OTHER people packed in going nowhere."

I go once. Maintain a good rate of speed and cover miles and miles over simulated terrain. "See girl, you still have it! You could do the same thing in the park you know..."

"FRAK! Shut up, shut up, shut up, enough already!"

"Yeah so?"

I don't go back. Too much noise, to many other people to close, no easy escape routes, I'm pinned in and not going back, you can't make me. So that's that for the Y.

And my heart, awakened from it's long slumber pines, while my head taunts me.

And so it goes.

A hint of spring, a taste of the warming and sun to come and I'm in the park, hungry after a winter of record snows. And the cyclist goes past. Swoosh...

And I know.

It's an investment in my health, my happiness, it's therapy, it's healing, it's fun! Another spring, summer and fall of longing, waste, and further loss of muscle tone OR investing in a bike.

I start to look in earnest. I find bike shops, I actually go to them explore to see how they feel, how the people seem, I ask questions, I do research online and I settle on a bike because of it's name and because it's something I can just barely finagle in terms of my resources but it's going to be tight. It's the Giant Women's Boulder. It reminds me of home. But it's silver. I do more research, a few dollars more, I can get the Myka. It costs more because it's not the absolute bottom of the line, it's a better bike the salesman says. The reviews online agree. It's also not just a woman's bike because of top tube height and name, it's designed by people who put some thought into it. Suddenly the name is much less important. "We have a sale coming up, come then and the Myka will be cheaper" the salesman tells me. Two more trips to ask questions, get fit for the bike and figure out how I'm going to pay for this and I know, this spring, summer and fall is going to be very different than the last two and more.

My heart and mind aren't even bothering to be subtle anymore and the need to feed fills my soul. I need to fly. I need to FEEL that tire noise in my body, the wind in my hair on my skin. I NEED to be flying. I need that piece of me back. I need that part of my soul back. It's going to happen, and this time, I'm not getting off the bike again for anything or anyone.

And that's the really short version of wanting to be back on a bike again. I loved being on a bike, it was freedom, it was a drug for me all those years ago. It was, is, and ever shall be my first true love, and I too long a slumber now remember. The sleeper has awakened! The Love remembered, and the journey begins a new . . .

Comment Moderation ...

2010-03-31T15:26:00.002-04:00

Not because of anything my readers have done, but because I've been getting increasing amounts of blogspam disguised as Chinese, I've enabled full comment moderation. All this really means is there will once again be a slight delay between when you make a comment, and when it shows up on the blog itself. Hopefully the jokers leaving spam hither and yon will find someone to both. For those of you who have blogs and get comments in Chinese, or other languages, you might be surprised what you find if you translate them. There is also a rise in the number of badly worded messages of hop and support that have a string of periods after them? Well those are spam as well. The periods contain embedded links to spam and worse, so I'm just going to start deleting those out of hand.

May be incorrect on my part to assume that if you can read what I've written, and understand it, you should be able to reply in kind without embedded links to porn site. Not that I have anything against porn between consenting adults, but it just isn't something I'm into and certain not why, after almost seven years, this blog is still here.

Wow, almost seven years. Hard to believe. So, hopefully only the spammers will be offended by this move and wander off and not any of you.

Thank you all for being patient with me!

Unbelievable ...

2010-03-28T23:06:00.003-04:00

So I'm writing another post and the phone rings. For some reason I thought it was Jill, but instead it was my sister-in-law. It's Sunday here, the weekend is streaming along and I'm recovering nicely from my first ride in years. It's been good and quiet, albeit raining today. So of course I wasn't at all expecting the call I got. Just so that we're on the right page, it's Sunday and via e-mail I'd talked to Ellie several times Friday and yesterday. I was completely unprepared for yet another plea from her for money. She had a bill due tomorrow that she's apparently been ... ignoring? So of course, last possible minute she's trying to beg, borrow or whatever the money to pay it before she gets in trouble and loses things. Two years in June I'll be living here, and yet she still calls me at least once a month trying to borrow money from me because she's borrowed from everyone else. I don't understand it. Frankly I have no idea how it is she's not been confined yet, been appointed a case worker who manages her money for her to protect other people and herself from herself. She has if anything LESS bills than she did, and yet she's unwilling to, or incapable of, trying to stick to a budget. Here I and so many other people are working hard to survive and get things done, and she's not even trying?

Me, I've been stressing and saving, and working the numbers and putting things on hold so that I could start riding again. In part because I know I want to and miss it, which means I'm working on taking back things that were taken away from me, and in part because I know if I don't take care of my health, I'm going to lose it. So while the bike was an investment in my satisfaction and happiness, it was really more important in terms of health which is why after thinking about it for more than a year, I finally did something about it.

I just don't get it. I really don't. So now I'm going to get back to the post I'd already started... No real point to this I guess other than expressing my frustration and confusion. I know, I shouldn't allow myself to be put into this kind of position, and I should tell her, in the gentlest way I can, not to ask anymore. Then again, you'd think that the fact I don't have anything to lend her would have sunk in? I've not loaned her money in more than two years that I can think of because I don't have it, but she keeps asking? How does that work?

Sometimes I get carried away ...

2010-03-28T15:57:00.000-04:00

or should be?

Yesterday started all wrong. I was startled, actually shaken out of bed by the joker upstairs turning up the music so loud I thought the building was under attack, or that a train was derailing and about to destroy the building. I wish I was kidding. That was noon, I'd only made it to bed at 6, so I'd not had anything like enough sleep yet. But after I got over th shock of being rudely awaked and having to deal with said neighbor who claimed he could do whatever he wanted and I could go to hell, I worked on getting my day started.

Which was when I KNEW! I was all a twitter with excitement. My new bike was not only in, but was ready and waiting for me to pick it up. I was certain of it. So I called my LBS to confirm. Sure enough they'd just put it together and were going to give me a call when I called them. Huzzah! Now it's one of those things you're just going to have to take on faith. I just know things sometimes in spite of having no possible way of knowing. I chalk it up to intution, folks around me call it magic. Either way, it works.

It also solved nicely for me the problem I was having with the scheduled pick up day of the seventh. Despite being almost two weeks away, I knew the seventh wasn't going to work cause it would mean I'd get my new bike wet before I could even ride it, and that had me annoyed. Again, I just know things. I was frustrated because if I waited till the seventh, she'd get wet riding home on the outside of the car and I wouldn't get to ride her. It was going to rain on the seventh and be a crappy day, I just knew it.

Saturday however was PERFECT. Then there was the issue of making sure I had enough to pick her up and still not have to touch my reserve until payday. When it dawned on me, that my credit card would be fine. Again, no way to know that since I'd only just checked my account and there wasn't enough room there. Except they'd increased the limit on Friday the day after I checked it. So of course when I checked again, more than enough room, and yes, somehow I knew before I checked. Lots of knowing going on I know, but the force has always been strong in me, these days it's getting stronger. I don't know why, but my intuition has grown in leaps and bounds over the last couple of years.

So I got dressed, hoped in the jumper and headed over to the LBS totally giddy with excitement! It was a perfect day, early enough to make it to the park for a shakedown, perfect weather oh I was so about to get high! Every bit the junky craving her next hit, her next high, I knew I was going to be flying soon!

Some people take to drink, others drugs, still others risk taking whatever the drug of choice is for them. For me it's biking. It's that confluence of sensation, effort, movement and more that gets me into "the zone" as it's called and tripping. Time and space vanish as for an unending moment in time I'm transported to this nearly perfect state. And I wanted it again. I missed it, needed it. Craved it like the addict I am. It had only been made worse by the taste I'd been given a few days before. Yes, again magic I know, but it worked for me.

So I'm at the LBS, and there she is sitting on the floor waiting for me. I got closer and I really started to burn with joy. If you've been with me on this little adventure I was fraught for a time with the decision of what color to get. Purple stripe, or Black stripe. I settled on black because black goes with everything and it would draw a lot less attention to the bike. But I really stressed about color. And then there she was:

You can see on the right how lucky I got? Yeah, bike is black, but the striping is purple. Oh my, she is so pretty! The rest of the stripes on the frame are purple as well. Turns out she's a really good looking ride because it's subtle, gloss black with a liberal splash of purple in long, clean lines. As it turns out MORE noticeable than purple stripe which would have been gloss purple with black stripes. So after finishing the paperwork, loading the extra stand I go for the house to hold her out of the way inside, I carefully mounted the bike rack to Jumper one, and then placed my new baby on the rack, ready to head off to Winton Woods Park for a shakedown cruise. I was moments away from finally being on a bike again! Made my way to Winton, parked, took Serenity off the rack and set about my first lap around the lake.

It was an utter embarrassment. Epic failure the like of which they might even write songs about. How bad? I pushed, huffing, puffing, and fighting my way up the hills trying to figure out the gearing, rolling down the hills not going too fast for fear of problems. Long on the brakes, short on the flying. I'd forgotten to bring the album with me that I wanted to listen to on the first ride, forgotten to turn on the tracking system that would give me metrics on speed, course, distance, elevation and put it all on a nice neat Google map. And then, at the end of the first tortured lap, I pulled to the side to turn the tracking software on, put down my foot to stand up and promptly fell over. Yup, leg came out from under me like it was made of latex.

Sure, I'd have the strength to make it the almost two miles around the lake, but my legs while stronger than I had hoped after so many years of neglect had no tone to them whatsoever. "Wait, you want me to push you and the bike two miles up and down hills and them remember how to stand up? What are you smoking woman?" So down I went, Serenity still between my legs, and hard. So much so that the frame smacked the inside of my thigh right above the knee with enough force to leave a massive ugly bruise like someone had hit me with a bat.

Thankfully I know how to fall correctly so the only real damage was the bruise on my thigh and a little scraped skin near my elbow. It could have been so much worse.

And of course I lay there on the ground like a loon laughing! Finally I composed myself, got my legs untangled from Serenity, stood up, picked her up and put down the kickstand and brushed myself off. Took out the magical little phone in my pocket and turned on the tracking system, mounted up and started on my second, first lap this time tracking it for posterity. Thinking to myself that when next I stopped, to be more careful about standing up mindfully and started around the lake.

Didn't make a complete lap before I stopped again, my insulted muscles complaining about the continuing abuse. After all brand new ride, new gearing system I'd never used before, new push button shifts I didn't know HOW to use correctly yet, and the seat too low all conspired to leave me in pain and out of energy going up another of the hills. SO I stopped and sat down, for a while. Lovely bench over looking the lake, perfect weather, early enough in the day to be able to manage my goal of three laps on the record.

So I sat for a bit and let my body recover some. Finished that hill by walking up, mounted up and started riding again. Made the rest of that first lap without incident thankfully and then stopped at the same bench to recover some. The shot above left is Serenity waiting patiently for me to myself together enough to continue on. Finished a second lap, and then a third on the record which was my goal for the first ride, and noticed some problems I'd have to watch the next time I rode to see if she needed serious attention.

Now I promised everyone that I'd take it easy on my first ride, that I'd limit myself to three laps which would be five miles. What I'd not taken into consideration was the fact that with three laps on the record, riding to and from the parking lot, and that first unrecorded lap, it came out to seven miles. Oops, I got carried away. Plus to make matters worse I was going to work me way around the lake like I usually do, which makes the grades harder. So note to self to take the ride counter clockwise next time, and go a bit easier on myself, sticking to my plan of five miles.

All in all, still a blessed day that started out all wrong. It's now two weeks to the day since I picked her up and I'm finally finishing this post. The nasty bruise on the inside of my thigh is now just a ring of purple the size of a small pancake and it should be gone in another few days. Since then I've been out a number of times, have put a total of 24 miles behind me and am having a wonderful time. But more about that in another post. I have another I need to get out today and wanted to finish this one first.

Sometimes I surprise myself . . .

2010-03-24T16:09:00.005-04:00

Over the span of years, I've studied a great many things. Eastern arts have been high on the list of things I gravitate towards. Meditation is part of my daily life, as is Reiki. Reiki is an Eastern healing art/science that can and does provide serious, measurable results. Which is probably why more and more doctors and hospitals are retaining, and even training, Reiki practitioners. Reiki is also a wonderful course of study to be undertaken for anyone on their own healing journey.

I am a Reiki practitioner, and credit it in part with my survival and growth after unspeakable, horrific trauma and abuse.

Used regularly both Reiki and Meditation can become as natural and expected as breathing, and provide surprising benefits. It has been known for sometime that advanced meditation can connect one with their higher self, and even with other planes of existence. This is long documented fact and I shall not endeavor to reproduce the wealth of study data here as it's not relevant. Be it enough said that I've been meditating for most of my life, so I've developed a certain comfortable facility.

Reiki is something newer to my life, but no less significant or powerful a modality. I'd been interested for a while, but it was only when I'd realized I really needed to do this for my own healing journey and survival that I did something about it. I first started serious study of Reiki in 2006 and reached Master/Teacher level in 2007 for the first time. Since then I've continued to grow and study, and have been certified as Master Teacher in two different disciplines by two different Masters in three different lineages. My goal eventually, as time and money permit to add one more Master/Teacher certification to that. Then I'll have triple lineage and have grown enough perhaps to seriously consider opening my own practice.

One of the things that is learned in the Reiki II course (or level) is the distance symbol and it's use and application. In Reiki I, one is usually taught how to "beam" or project Reiki across the room. The distance symbol/practice dramatically extends that range. In fact it is almost ironic it is called the distance symbol, because in effect it removes any and all distance between practitioner and subject. Space and time become irrelevant, one can send Reiki to, or receive Reiki from anywhere, or anywhen.

When coupled together, advanced Reiki and Meditation is very much like time travel. Now, before you go thinking she's finally gone right around the bend give me a moment to explain. First of all, while I ascribe to a lesson, a precept a Sensei of mine taught me years ago, I have achieved a certain level of comfort and adeptness with both Reiki and Meditation enough to forward my experiences some. Back then Sensei suggested that I meditate upon my own place in the universe to try and find out just who I am and what I really know for certain. What I learned was interesting, the short version, which pleased Sensei very much was that I am no one and I know nothing. Which isn't nearly as horrible as it sounds. It is an invitation to the universe to fill me with light, love, purpose and gifts of abundance. It is also not always as easy to be as it sounds. Simply stated, it is a way to help balance what Freud referred to as the trinity of self. Id, ego and super ego. While many forms of Eastern thought advocate a complete surrender of the the ego, and the ensuing loss of self in the process, that is a road, a path I've walked far more often than I'd like. Almost always with disastrous results. However I digress. My point simply is this: I have learned and practiced enough that I can realized real, tangible benefits for direct, or even indirect intent.

Many in the mystical community often recite, as if a mantra, that energy follows intent. I wonder at times however if they really understand that at a deep and personal level? I know until yesterday I didn't really appreciate it nearly as much as I do now. For as much as it is about will power, or the ego, the self, directing thought and thus energy toward something or someone, what about when it really clicks? When you have an "ah ha" and "oh my" moment all in one for no other reason than you where trying to imagine something and make a point to savor it when you get there? Kind of a mental note to self to do something at a future point? You with me so far?

Okay, if you're still here, with Reiki you can initiate a connection to send healing energy to anywhere at any time, distance is not an object. With Meditation you endeavor to connect with your higher self. By melding the two, you can share thoughts, feelings, and experiences with any of your past or future selves. Surprisingly easily. Thankfully because Reiki will let you do no harm, and because time heals all wounds, one does not need to have an advanced degree in temporal mechanics to safely navigate the multiverse. The American Monk, Burt Goldman would, and does, refer to this as Quantum Jumping. For an 80 plus Monk, he's one really smart guy. For the technically minded, I'm simply modulating a Reiki carrier with additional information. Not unlike in radio where a carrier wave is modulated to send signals that can be understood on the other end. Frankly it's pretty cool!

Now I'm a sensualist near as I can tell. This simply means that how something, or someone feels, is at least as important to me as any specific details. I'm also naturally highly empathic, and highly intuitive. This makes for a powerful combination, and in some people, can lead to addiction, substance abuse, and death. Thankfully (I think) for me, I'm a reality junky. So I've never been tempted toward mind altering substances or recreational drug or drink use. Put me in the middle of a field of flowers beside a river on a perfect day, and I'm higher than a kite. Really. I'll get the whole doped up look to me and I'll have paying any attention to anything else. Then again, that's actually a type of meditation called mindfulness.

Okay, wow, this is getting deeper than I'd planned it. So lets just boil it down some for a moment shall we? I'm a sensation junky, and even my imagination can be more real, and tactile than many peoples day to day lives because everything is important. How it feels, how it move me, how it touches me and stirs my soul are often more important than little details.

So yesterday started off hard. My mood was way down, and I was even experiencing something like withdrawal. For what? A good bike ride. Yes, I'm serious. As I've mentioned in previous posts, I get into what some people might call "the zone" while I'm mounted up and moving out. Again, flying through the countryside on my bike on a perfect day, and yeah, high as a kite. So as regular readers will know, I've been working up to getting back on a bike, and this has been a long, building process for me.

Anyway, as I was writing my long reply to a comment on my previous post, I made a mental note to myself to remember and really savor one of those days where I was flying along in a perfect day enjoying being in the moment. Which was all it took. Suddenly I was there, in the moment, flying along, soaking up every bit of the yummy goodness that was the wind in my hair, on my skin, the slight burn in my muscles from going counter clockwise around Shaker Trace and having crested the hill. My heart, soul, mind and body on fire with sensation, the wind, the hum of the tires, the vibration, the corn crowing in the fields I was passing, the voices of the birds in my ears, everything. For a few blissful, blessed moments I was there. I was no longer at my desk penning my comments but I was on the west side of Shaker Trace Trail in Miami White Water Park, lost in that one perfect moment.

And the me then was laughing, high as a kite, and thrilled to be sharing that moment with me as I sit here on pins and needles waiting for the day I can pickup Serenity from the shop. In fact, exactly two weeks from today I'll be at the shop picking her up. In fact, two weeks from this moment in time I'll be finishing my last lap (weather permitting) for the day at Winton Woods. So there I was, on Serenity, flying through the countryside, high as a kite sharing that moment we I/we/she wondered about the future.

Talk about being blown away.

From Shaker Trace Trail a few months from now, to Conzelman Road in the Marin Headlands on the way to the Golden Gate Bridge. Yes, California! There I was, hunkered down to streamline my wind profile and the equivalent of a racing tuck, flying down Conzelman. Another perfect day, the air was clear, clean and smelling of the bay, San Fransisco there in the distance, and the sun starting it's gentle glide into the vastness of the pacific ocean at the end of another perfect day. Again, I was higher than a kite flying along on the road this time, not a trail, and so happy I was drunk with the pleasure and richness of that moment. It was a moment from a few years into the future, when I was half the woman I am now, and yet, all at once, way, way more than I am now. I was stronger, healthier, more confident and felt a level of safety and security that I've not tasted in more than a decade. I looked and felt amazing, and this trip was almost two decades in the making. This moment. Something I'd wanted since I was there with Earl, and so much more. The me then, while she is in no way the woman I was in my life before Earl, she's somehow better, stronger, faster.

And She/I/We knew then, and know now, that we're going to get there, that we made it. And when I do, I'm going to be looking back in wonder. She is even now looking back in wonder. Because she is still no one and knows nothing, but she's come a long, long way from being broken and dead, semi catatonic on the floor of her prison cell in New England. Sure, her heart. mind, body and soul are littered with the scars of her life, but she's stronger, healthier, amazing to me right now. She gives me a level, a taste, of hope I've not known in ... well, really ever. She is so there, taking her month long tour of California. She was going to watch the sunset from the bridge, make her way back to the car, and then head to the Fog City Diner for dinner for old times sake. The day before she'd already rode across the new Bay Bridge and back, and then finished off the day with dinner at the Stinking Rose.

She/I/We have come a long way to go.

An amazing day in so many ways.

2010-03-19T02:05:00.007-04:00

It's 02:06 right now, and I'm going to try to keep this uncharacteristically short. Because I need to get to bed soon and if I start seriously writing now, I'll be up for hours.

Today was the end of a process that started a while back and has been growing on me. I bought a bike. This one in fact:
It's a Specialized Women's Myka Hardtail in black. But I'll get back to that later. Right now, like I say, I'd like to keep this short.

So, on the morrow I'll talk about why today was so awesome aside from just actually investing in a decent bike for a change. I'll talk about old flames, new freedom, the surprise of passion and the memories of an old family friend who with a single act of thoughtless kindness, started setting the wheels of healing and freedom turning. I'll also mention a bunch of newer friends who've had everybit as much to do with this today as Sid did. So, now that I've left myself a trail of mnemonic bread crumbs to follow I'll say thanks Sid, where ever you are, and thanks to each and everyone of you who have touched my life with kindness and light for no other reason than that's the kind of people you are! Thank you all, and goodnight!

[More after the break...]

So, to put this in some kind of focus, I'm going to dampen my enthusiasm for a moment to take a short trip in the way back machine. Short because it's something that happened "recently" as in this lifetime recently. I was, regrettably, an abused child. Based on other things I've written this should come as no surprise. My first ever experience with a bike of any kind was at my grandparents house in Jersey and lets just say that wasn't well received. In fact everyone thought it was a singularly bad idea as I stood there in the yard, my knee destroyed and a trail of blood leading two blocks away where my need and the curb came into shall we say close contact?

I'd been bad, after being specifically told that I didn't know how to ride a bike and I'd get hurt, I borrowed one from one of the neighborhood kids and had done grand. Right up until I tried to walk the bike back onto the side walk and opened up my knee. Badly. A year later that trail of blood was still a vivid reminder of just how badly things went. I was maybe 9 or 10? It was a bike in retrospect I shouldn't have been able to ride? But I did, and had a wonderful time. I'd gotten a taste and I wanted more!

I was banned from bikes from that point on, and my father swore hell would freeze before I'd EVER be allowed near a bike. Well, some years later, after my father had BOUGHT my younger sister a bike when SHE was eleven or so, a family friend asked me why I wasn't out riding my bike. My father proceeded to explode as he did so often when I simply said I didn't have one, and knowing the storm coming, excused myself to my room. My father made, as was his want, something of an arse of himself going on about me being a danger to myself and others and how hell would have to freeze first.

A few days later hell froze up solid for the first of many times in my young life. That family friend, a wonderful man with a collection of old Checker cabs showed up at my house and asked to speak to me. Explaining simply that no child should be deprived of a bike, opened the door to his enormous car and said this is for you. May not be shiny and new like your sisters, but it works, and if you treat it well it will keep working. Like his fleet of retired Checker Cabs, it was old, dirty, nothing shiny about it at all. And I was in love the moment I saw it. My father started to explode and Sid shut him down right then and there. He in effect embarrassed my father into not only allowing me to have a bike, but to ride it too!

It was as if the Valkyries had forced open the gates of hell and rode off straight out of hell with me beside them. Not that I was a speed demo, for verily it had nothing to do with speed and everything to do with freedom. With most young people it's the first car and a drivers license. For me, it was then beat up old ten speed. So much so that when most of my contemporaries where worrying cars and driving privileges, I was out exploring the world around me, free and easy on the back of my old beater. So much so that I didn't even bother getting a drivers license or a car until I was in my twenties. That old beater took me everywhere, and far further than "normal" people my age in those days would even thing to go. Within a very, very short time my bike was taking me not only into town, to the library, but into other states. I rode everywhere. I rode to school instead of taking the bus, I even ventured to the roller ring the next state over (it was just over 25 miles from my house) to go skating. That bike and I were inseparable. And I was in amazing shape.

Riding was for me a passion like cars were for most kids. It was escape, safety, FREEDOM, the wind in my hair, the ability to go anywhere I wanted so long as I was willing to ride there and back. It was exploring, and getting away from my Dad. It was being able to spend as much time in the library as I wanted, and even more than one library. I wasn't just passionate about riding, I was a bit crazy according to some. But at a time in my life when I needed something to help me survive and grow, a bike was it. I imprinted on biking the way some people imprint on a parent. In fact I strongly suspect that my Dad hadn't really gotten, even then, the gratification he so craved out of throwing me out of the house when I was 17. He said don't let the door hit you on the way out, and I grabbed what I could carry on the bike and never looked back. Most kids freak out, hide in the neighborhood, and go groveling back to the parent a little while later.

I got on my bike, rode off without looking back and never spoke to my parents again. My Dad because I was so done with him, and my Mom, because she died a year later. I set out the day he threw me out to prove to him just how wrong he was, and did so in spades. So much so that while I didn't get a license or car until years later, I had my own apartment long before anyone I went to high school with. Kinda had to what with being homeless and all that. Which is not to say it was easy, nor did it happen instantly. In fact I spent a winter living under a tree behind a funeral home. But my bike was there with me the entire time. It got me back and forth to school and work and everywhere.

It took me to places I otherwise might never have come, and I didn't have to worry about gas money. In fact my first trip to Boston all by myself was on my bike. At the time I was living in New York. Distance never really made4 and impression on me, because if I wanted to invest the time in the trip, then I could go there. Why Boston? Because we'd been there on a class trip in seventh grade and I wanted to go back. So off to Boston I went. I rode in the dark, in the rain, in the snow, there wasn't anyplace I couldn't go. And I was in amazing shape. I would ride to hide from me problems, to escape my pain, to not think about things.

So I did an amazing amount of riding. I didn't race, because I was about as competitive as a beaten puppy. I didn't go off road because there were so many roads and places to go. I didn't train, didn't set goals in terms of distance, in fact I had a wholly un-realistic relationship with distance. I could and did go everywhere and anywhere. In fact when I was still living at home, and my Dad got pissed off at the chess games a friend and I would play over the phone, I didn't think about it, just got on my bike and road to his house. He on the other hand was stunned when I showed up at his door with my bike. Why? Because our houses were seven miles apart. Took just under half an hour for me to get there.

I loved my bike. I loved riding. I was in astonishing physical shape. While I didn't race, it didn't stop me from hauling arse and covering an amazing amount of distance in equally amazing amounts of time. I even got pulled over by a sheriff's deputy at one point for speeding. He claims I was doing 38 in a 20 mph zone. I didn't have a bike computer, or the fancy phone I do now (heck, cell phones hadn't been invented yet.) but I did have a well loved bike and I was in a racing tuck, going down hill at full tilt. In later years I found that yes, doing that could attain very high rates of speed, but for me it was like flying. And I could get to impossible places way faster than anyone could wrap their mind around.

So, that started my love affair with bikes.

And then life got in the way, and I finally got a car, and then Earl wouldn't let me ride, and there was no angels around to shame him into letting me ride. Life marched on, and because I'd not learned anything from my own past, I didn't get back on a bike until after Earl left me. I wasn't allowed to have a bike, much less think about riding one. In fact it was somehow a delicious bit of irony that the bike I did get on after Earl left me was his. Yes, HE was allowed to have one, one his father had bought for him, and a car carrier, that he never road. I couldn't get Earl out of the house to save his life. Out in nature walking, or riding? Yes, he'd go to the beach and lay there. Walk along the lake on the way to or from our room in Meridith. But actually go out walking? Earl? Biking? Never. We were so mismatched when we went to San Fransisco that one time. I wanted to explore, walk, enjoy, and the most I go from him was shopping along the Embracadero, A brief stop on top of Mount Tam, and a little bit of walking in Monterey and Santa Cruz. A couple of brief picture stops on the PCH, but really walk around? Rent bikes and cycle? Hell no. Don't even suggest it. Closest we got when we were together was renting one of those pedal powered touring cars in Monterey. You know, the bicycle built for two that you drove like a car. Even then he wasn't really into it, and those things weigh a ton.

So, it was with some irony that I didn't even realize at the time that when he left me, first thing I did was got on HIS bike and started riding around the area we lived. And again, miles for the little while I was still there. When I then had to flee to Jersey, the bike went into the storage locker and I forgot about it for a while. It come out for a little while, and I rode a little, and regrettably when I left Jersey, it was left behind my sister-in-laws house. When the foreclosure went through, it got loaded into a truck and taken with the rest of the stuff from the house. The carrier still on the back of my car.

So, on the seventh, when I go to pick up my new ride, it will be coming home on that carrier that's in the trunk of my car until I can build the new one I have planned.

This time when I get back on that bike, MY new bike, I'm not going to let it go again so easily. Because this time I'll be embracing a newly awoken passion long gone from my life, and instead of riding away FROM something, I'll be riding TO something. To many somethings. That freedom, that joy, that zone that more than once helped save my heart, mind, body and soul. I'll also be ridding back to that body I used to have. Very few things burn calories like riding a bike does. Plus I'll feel safer in the parks on a bike because on a bike I can easily get away from someone on foot. Bikers I'm not going to worry about, cause we're different kind of folks.

I'm going to start out simple, take it easy, in fact I'm going to star with a park I already feel safe in, because I've been walking there. While walking there I'm constantly being lapped by riders who are flashing past my with a whir as they move round the lake. Soon I'll not be watching with longing, I'll be whirring along myself. And on the first brand new, serious bike I've ever owned. From there I'll work my way up to more laps, better shape, longer distances, and then, well then there's a lotta sky out there. I've already been looking at what's available to be both in terms of parks, rail-trails and even some beginners single track with an eye toward trying that. My friend Laura loves it, so I figure it can't kill me to cautiously explore it. But it's one of those things that I really get about Laura, her love for her bike, and getting out on it.

Of course the rest of my friends are getting what they wished for. I'm going to be getting out of the house a whole bunch more. I have every intension of spending most of the spring, summer and fall in the saddle. I've already got it figured out in my head. Cooler with provisions and grill in the trunk, bike on the rack, a short drive to someplace to ride, and then the day doing that. Ride a bunch of miles, head back to the jumper, break out the gear, grill up a veggie burger and backed potato with a light salad. Take out a book and read for a bit to let the food settle some, then hop back on my ride and head out for some more fun with the MP3 player cranking out some tunes. I already know what I'm going to spin up for my first ride.

So, back to the day that was amazing in so many ways? Why was is so amazing? Because it marked being out of the house more often and longer than I'd been in a long time, following a period of days that involved actually getting out, shopping, talking to complete strangers and for once bing more interested in the answers they could give me than the possibility of them hurting me. Because I spent, at a time in my life when I can barely afford to pay attention, hundreds of dollars on what many might consider a luxury item without even thinking about it. No, that's not totally accurate. I'd been thinking about it for a while. Months in fact the pressure to ride has been building. The NEED to ride building. So today was as if a damn had burst. The research, hard work and ruminations paying off as I not so calmly walked in to the Bike Shop I'd chosen and said to Rob "Your mission today first and foremost is NOT to let me leave here without leaving a bunch of money behind. Do not let me walk out of here without spending money on a new ride. Okay?" He smiled and said I think we can do that.

I knew what I wanted, having had him spend an hour with me previously answering my questions and trying out sizes of frames. In thinking about it I felt the frame he'd had me on was a bit too big, so we went through it again, and I'm glad we did. It was too big. Sure I could have made it work and gotten used to it, but why should I have to if I'm buying something new. Plus I'd done more reading and thinking, and a few more inches of clearance just made good sense. So those and other questions answered it came down to timing and money. I picked that day because they were having a sale that would shave a sizable amount of the price and put together the money for it. However, one of the things I had to chose was instant gratification, or a little bit more patience. For whatever odd reason the chain (it's five stores) only stocked ONE color of my new ride, and NOT the one I wanted. Which meant either paying more to have it shipped to them to build so I could have it sooner, or waiting a bit longer since they were anticipating having to reorder from Specialized after this sale, and thus not have to deal with shipping just my bike. I said sure, I've waited this long, a week or two more will not make that big a difference, especially if it means not paying extra for shipping.

So I scheduled to pick her up on April seventh. All shiny and new. Gave Rob my credit card and said okay, take some money away from me now please. And one two three I walked out of there with a receipt for my new bike and the other accessories I bought from them, got in the car, and set off to explore another area park that has one trail that is almost eight miles long. Not only way I out shopping, and spent hundreds of dollar that could possibly have been better spent on saving to get the rest of the stuff in the locker out here, but I intentionally went to someplace I'd never been before to do some exploring. Some pictures from there are on my Flickr site if you wish to see them. While there are I actually approached a complete stranger to ask him (yes, a guy no less) some questions about his bike rack. Mainly because it was similar in concept to what I'd been drawing up in my head.

You see I have a trailer hitch on the jumper. And I've been planning on getting a cargo basket to help make cleaning out the storage locker easier. That is going to set me back a couple hundred dollars. Now of course with the new bike coming, and my need to take it around with me to the places I'm going to go riding, I want something good to safely transport the bike. Yes, I have a trunk mount, but it just straps onto the car and the bike then hangs from it. Less than ideal, and not very secure. Yes, I can and shall temporarily run a locking cable between the bike, frame of the trunk mount, and down to the hitch which is mounted to the car. But long term I want something more supportive and secure. My friend Laura has what I consider and ideal bike rack that it hitch mounted and really supports her bike. When I started looking at those however it dawned on me that it was, in essence a hitch mounted cargo basket specifically for bikes.

So the wheels started turning. Spend a couple hundred on a cargo basket, then several hundred more on something else that plugs into the hitch and have to swap them out? For the most part I'll be moving the bike way more than cargo. But I couldn't figure out why I couldn't simply bolt something onto the cargo basket when I wanted to use the bike, and take it off to move cargo? having a background in engineering didn't help, as I started designing an affordable custom made solution on the drawing board in my head. [The question isn't "Did she just say she has a drawing board in her head?" No, that's not it at all. The question is "You don't?" LOL]

So of course having this churning in my head, to watch this guy and his bike pull in with part of my idea already built and in use, I simply HAD to ask him about it. Turns out a friend of his whipped it together in his shop and he's been using it ever since. It works great. And it's bolted onto his hitch mounted cargo basket. When he need to move cargo, four bolts and the pieces come off and it's a regular basket again. Otherwise it holds his bike upright and steady without it dangling from a couple of bars hanging off the trunk. He also gave my information about the trails there, which direction had easier grades, or faster speed, and about how long it takes him to get around. When he wants it easier, he travels clockwise, when he wants it harder, counter clockwise and it takes him about 40 minutes. Which given all the available data means he's taking it easy in terms of a workout in general. Then too, he doesn't have any weight to lose, or shape to worry about getting in.

So I'm going to start easy at Winton Woods. Get to the point where I can fairly effortlessly make five or six loops and then head over to Miami Whitewater Forest. I'll start with a few loops of the shorter inner trail, and then take on the 8 mile trail. My goal then is to get to the point of being able to lap that trail three times in 90 minutes. That's still not really pushing it compared to what I used to do, but good enough for the season, and certainly good enough to reach my other goal for this season. Dropping two dress sizes. Given my history, this is a nice realistic goal for the next six months. By then I'll be able to afford an indoor training mount, and keep riding all winter long. By this time next year, my evil plan is to have lost more than two dress sizes and out of the extra large range. Actually depending on the cut I'm currently either extra, or extra, extra large and I don't really like that much. Plus there's stuff I'd look wonderful in that doesn't come extra large. I need to fix that!

So, I'm making plans, getting out of the house, taking better care of myself and even putting a new project now instead of funneling it all into saving to finish an existing project. Nothing short of astonishing for me. So, an amazing day in so many ways. Hopefully by now I've not bored you into a coma!

Good days do come too . . .

2010-03-11T21:10:00.004-05:00

I know it's been a while since I've posted, but I like to follow, when I can, the maxim: "Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than open you mouth and convince everyone."

That and sometimes I just don't have anything all that amazing to share. While I don't think what I'm about to share is all that amazing, it makes a nice counter point to my recent post on "A Mile in her shoes" talking about getting out more.

Despite that Friday being abysmal for me, Saturday the sixth came and I was a woman with a mission. Was was bound and determined I was going to drive 220 miles round trip to pick up a game piece in a game that has, at least on the surface, no intrinsic value. Thankfully Jumper one is really amazing when it comes to gas, and most of the 220 miles was highway driving. So I figured at an average of 36 miles to the gallon for the trip at 1.50 a gallon, it was worth the nine dollars in gas for me. Yes, really, a buck and a half a gallon. I have shopfu! The grocery store I was at has prices very close to the other big chains in the area, but I get fuel savings with every purchase that add up. So I never pay retail when I fill up the jumper.

Now, for a bit of background. My late husband and his whole family were golf fanatics. Apparently I wasn't taking it all that seriously because I thought the idea of chasing a little ball around in nature and not keeping score was just about perfect. Clean(ish) air, sunshine, the great out doors, take a long a picnic and it would be perfect. Why keep score, it just adds stress? Do it for the fun, the outdoors, the sunshine, the pure enjoyment and let someone else get all worked up over scores. Plus I never could see the point in winning a game by intentionally losing. You know the whole he who ends the round/game/match/whatever you call it with the lowest score wins thing. Earl and his family took a dim view of my view and claimed this was a serious game for adults and I wasn't giving it enough respect. Making matters worse my "short" game, even when I wasn't being serious, was a killer. The one time Earl and I played I creamed him even by getting stuck on one of the holes. I in effect pulled a "Tin Cup" and still beat him soundly. That didn't go over very well at all.

So anyway, in principle golf sounded nice. Explore new places I'd never been to and otherwise would have never gone to, and go out of the house and relax. Woot! Sounded ideal even if I was doing it wrong. So we didn't become a great golfing couple like his parents. Oh the horror. Quite by accident one day I came across the idea of geocaching and fell in love with the idea right then and there. Everything good about golf and more, without competing per say or even keeping score. Plus it isn't limited to just golf courses. All you need are either pretty good mapping and navigation skills, or a GPS. Having both is just a bonus.

Geocaching has taken me to places I'd never have otherwise gone to, met people I'd otherwise never had any reason to know, and given me hundreds of hours of relaxation walking around in nature looking for things that other people have hidden for me to find. Woot! I've even managed to get other unsuspecting folks into geocaching simply by enjoying it myself and having them along with me a time or two.

So, that said, because I've been caching now for a goodly number of years I have some history in the game. Tools of the game include being able to watch movements of special game pieces called travel bugs. These travel bugs move from cache to cache, leaving a record of where they have been and the people involved in the game. They can be watched, so that you can see where the bug has been and get notifications of it's movements.

Five years ago my sister and I found one such bug while she was out visiting. She was also very new to the game since I'd only just exposed her to it. Bugs appealed to her as well, and she decided she'd take a few back with her when she went home, giving the bugs some movement, and getting her to keep caching when she got home. The game also appealed to her because like me, she doesn't get out much, and the thought of staying in the game as a way to get out more made sense. Because I added the bugs she took out west to my watch list, I got to see how they made their way around after she released them. On of the bugs in particular we had history with recently showed up as being fairly close to me. At least close enough that it could be a one day trip.

So that was my plan. I'd get up, drive nearly 100 miles one way to find this "bug" hidden in a park by a river, and then head back. Wound up getting up much later than I'd planned, but that was due to getting to bed problems. Along with everything else I'm dealing with, sleep is problematic to say the least. So I'm chasing daylight as I'm heading north and west of here to go looking for the cache that has the bug I wanted. But I am out of the house, I am out, and going, somewhere.

Eventually I make it to my destination, Selma taking me effortlessly from the highway to within a few meters of the cache. Who is Selma you ask? Well Selma is the name I've given to my phone, which these days is so much more than a phone it defies simple objectification through a descriptive name. Yes, it is an excellent communications tool, allowing me to simply and easily converse via voice with anyone I choose. Or via email, or SMS, or Facebook, Twitter, Chat, Voice Chat, Video Chat or any number of nearly unlimited means of communications through this one device. It's also a nearly unlimited connection to everything on the internet too. It allows me to do nearly everything and anything my home computer does and some more. It will effortlessly guide me, in clear, crisp and very audible Queens English to places I wish to go simply by asking. Not through the flashing of indicators on the display, but actual spoken directions. If I'm in a mood, it will speak to me in other voices. Including (ack!) American English. It is more than a thing, more than a tool. At least for me it's more than that. It is the countless decades of millions of people working hard toward building a better hammer so to speak. It is generations of work, millions of live world over coming together in a spark of insight and function that is the realization of the claim that computers will one day make our lives easier and more productive. It is about the size of a credit card.

But it was that gentle, polished, Queens English that sparked in my head and heart a thought when I looked at it and said "Take me too 3500 Eastview Rd, Franklin, Ohio." Being my mother's daughter I couldn't help but add please to my request. And it all came together right there. Selma from "Time Trax." Back a number of years ago I enjoyed watching the TV show, and dramed of a day when I too could have a credit card sized computer and communications system like Captain Darien Lambert. The heck with Star Trek stuff, I wanted the whole thing. I wanted SELMA. Well given current technology this is much closer than I'd have ever dreamed of having readily available to me so soon. So, SELMA it is.

Anyway, Selma takes me from the highway to the nearest parking area to the cache, and I get to simply enjoy the drive and not have to look for road signs, or really get overly involved in where I'm going. I get to enjoy the scenery more. When and where it's time to turn, Selma lets me know. If I make a mistake she instantly recomputes the course and brings me back on track in no time flat. Once at my destination I switch to cache tracking and much like a Star Trek Tricorder gives me distance and bearing to my target with a satellite map view of my current location and the target overlaid on the screen. It's a simple matter then of walking the few meters from the Jumper to the cache site, unearthing the hidden cache, and collecting the travel bug I came here for.

For my friend Shauna . . .

2010-02-17T20:08:00.002-05:00

So I was reading your latest blog post, and trying to find the right words to address it when I followed a link off your blog and found Alexis ruminating on almost the same thought. She brought up this song, that I'd never heard before, but simply adore now that I have heard it. So, I thought I'd share it with everyone and dedicate it to you. (More of what I wrote after the break)

What if?

This song is gloriously beautiful but it goes by fast. So in the interests of making sure that the words are not missed, here they are:

Here you sit in your high back chair.
I wonder how the view is from there?
I wouldn't know because I like to sit,
upon the floor, yes upon the floor.

If you like we can play a game.
Lets pretend that we are the same.
You will have to look much closer,
than you do, closer than you do.

I'm far too tired to stay here anymore,
and I don't care what you think anyway.
I think you were wrong about me.
Well what if you were, what if you were?

What if I'm a snow storm burning?
What if I'm a world un-turning?
What if I'm an ocean far too shallow, much to deep?

What if I'm the kindest demon,
something you may not believe in?
What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep?

I know you've got me figured out.
Tell me what I'm all about,
and I just might learn a thing or two,
maybe about you, maybe about you.

I'm at the end of your telescope,
but I won't change just to suit your vision.
I am bound by a fraying rope,
around my hands, tied around my hands.

You close your eyes when I say I'm breaking free,
and you put your hands over both your ears,
because you can not stand to believe I'm not,
the perfect girl you thought.

Well what have I got to lose.

What if I'm a weeping willow,
laughing teers upon my pillow?
What if I'm a socialite who wants to be alone?

What if I'm a toothless leopard?
What if I'm a sheep-less shepherd?
What if I'm an angel without wings to take me home?

You don't know me.
You never will, you never will.

I'm outside your picture frame,
and the glass is breaking now.

You won't see me.
You never will, you never will.
No, if you're never going to see.

What if I'm a crowded desert?
Too much pain with little pleasure?
What if I'm the nicest place, you never want to go?

What if I don't know who I am?
Will that keep us both from trying,
to find out? When you have,
be sure to let me know.

What if I'm a snow storm burning?
What if I'm a world un-turning?
What if I'm an ocean far too shallow, much to deep?

What if I'm the kindest demon,
something you may not believe in?
What if I'm a siren singing gentlemen to sleep?

Now, that said, I think it works equally well to say that as far as I, and many of your sisters online and off are concerned, we love you regardless. Now the big question is how can we help you find this same kind of precious, evolved and unconditional love and acceptance for yourself? How can we help? How can I? Acceptance like that starts within, the rest of the world will find and even greater level of acceptance, and understanding of you when you do. It's amazing how it works, and honestly I won't bore you with all the details of why it does, especially since I don't know them, I just know that it works.

So how would your life be different if you knew and totally accepted yourself at this kind of level? How do you think people would see you then. "What If" you're just a girl, like any number of the roughly 3.something billion of the rest of us on this planet? "What If" your past was behind you and only a memory and the future hadn't happened yet? "What If" you were truly free? Can you sense or feel how your life would be different? "What If" you let go of other peoples problems and did your best to help them grow and move on but didn't take ownership of their issues?

So if you can see, feel, and imagine inside of yourself what life would be life why not live that? After all you only have this instant in time, this moment, this second? Yesterday my friend is gone and tomorrow isn't here yet, so "What If" you live right now? "What if" you live today like there is no tomorrow and just enjoy the now, live the now, and make every second of it as positive, powerful and wonderful as you can imagine? "What If" after living each now like that tomorrow becomes the past and everyone loves you tomorrow as much as they did today and yesterday? "What If" everyone saw you as you are, always, and had only one name for you, Shauna? "What If" they were living in a past you imagined as tomorrow today?

Can you wrap your heart and mind around that, accept it, embrace it, and make it your own? "What if" you did? What If you give yourself a hug from me cause I'm too far away to reach?

Something to keep in mind.

2010-02-13T21:42:00.002-05:00

Something I found over on Transsexual Ferox, loved and had to share: The original is over at LGBT Laughs.

An engineering professor is treating her husband, a loan officer, to dinner for finally giving in to her pleas to shave off the scraggly beard he grew on vacation. His favorite restaurant is a casual place where they both feel comfortable in slacks and cotton/polyester-blend golf shirts. But, as always, she wears the gold and pearl pendant he gave her the day her divorce decree was final. They’re laughing over their menus because they know he always ends up diving into a giant plate of ribs but she won’t be talked into anything more fattening than shrimp.

Quiz: How many biblical prohibitions are they violating?

Well, wives are supposed to be ‘submissive’ to their husbands (I Peter 3:1). And all women are forbidden to teach men (I Timothy 2:12), wear gold or pearls (I Timothy 2:9) or dress in clothing that ‘pertains to a man’ (Deuteronomy 22:5). Shellfish and pork are definitely out (Leviticus 11:7, 10) as are usury (Deuteronomy 23:19), shaving (Leviticus 19:27) and clothes of more than one fabric (Leviticus 19:19). And since the Bible rarely recognizes divorce, they’re committing adultery, which carries the rather harsh penalty of death by stoning (Deuteronomy 22:22).

So why are they having such a good time? Probably because they wouldn’t think of worrying about rules that seem absurd, anachronistic or - at best - unrealistic. Yet this same modern-day couple could easily be among the millions of Americans who never hesitate to lean on the Bible to justify their own anti-gay attitudes.

Hi, I'm Samantha, otherwise I'm sleeping...

2010-02-07T18:18:00.002-05:00

Spent the weekend with friends old and new, and quite by accident or whit, as much as self defense I came out with "Hi, I'm Samantha, otherwise I'm sleeping."

It was an interesting day, especially given that I was Exposed to "Kill Bill" Volumes one and two.

My friend Christianne was in town visiting with her SO and they were staying with Emma & Ruth whom I've also known for a goodly number of years now as well. It started with Christianne asking if I'd be willing to meet for lunch since we'd not yet ever been in the same state at once, let alone the same room. Might be nice to actually meet in person for once. Sounded like a good idea to me. While trying to coordinate lunch somewhere we had to factor in the impact of an ill timed snow storm. Eventually it was decided that lunch in made the most sense. Fine by me, I was more interested in the people than the food overall.

As Lori noted recently in one of her blogs, turning blog friends into real friends was much more like getting together with old friends who don't get into town often instead of meeting new people.

A number of other friends joined, some of whom are trans-gendered, so folks were introducing themselves as "{First Name} otherwise I'm {other name}" and being just one gender I had to say something to acknowledge them and not seem uncomfortable so I came out with "Hi, I'm Samantha, otherwise I'm sleeping?" My hope was folks would find it amusing and feel at ease, it seemed to work well since they laughed and on we went with the day. It's good to be able to think on my feet sometimes. This was no exception.

It was a long but wonderful day of good friends, food, wine and film. Not a bad way to spend a day especially since they were all big fans of Kill Bill and I'd never seen either one. Now I'm no movie reviewer like Christianne, she does an amazing job with that, so I'm not even going to try. What I will say is that I loved the way the movie was shot, the use of light, space and blocking to tell a powerful story and add to the over all feeling and plot. The foundation was solid and had real meat on it in terms of characters and their development, as well as plot and context devices to support the characters. Uma Thurman played the heroine well and the writing lent credibility to her ability to paint a warrior scorned. Flashbacks and foreshadowing where liberally used to set the stage for the Hero's journey in a very Joseph Campbell style of story arcs.

What I loved most was the lighting, blocking and camera work of the film. As a photographer and someone who paints with light, film is kind of the ultimate adventure in painting with light. While very much a feature, it had nods to comics and old Chinese chop-em-up movies of the past. This treatment was splendid and kept me smiling and really enjoying the unfolding of the story. In an unusual twist, there were several plot points that I simply did not see coming. An the movies get extremely high marks for that alone. As a writer, photographer and storyteller, normally I see things coming a mile off, and I find enjoyment in how they get there. In "Kill Bill" one and two there were many points of O! Pure amazement and pleasure at writing and story telling I so didn't see coming. Surprising me in a movie is nearly impossible, and yet "Kill Bill" managed it with ease more than once. I really dig that! So it was two great movies I'd never seen before but am glad now that I did.

So anyway, it was a great day, I had fun and got to spend time with old friends, and met some new ones.

Call ...

2010-01-24T02:17:00.003-05:00

When I was a kid, Star trek fascinated me. NASA was a lame excuse for a space program and I wanted a computer I could talk to, a tricorder, a communicator and wanted to go explore strange new worlds. In the forty years since Trek first aired in September of 1966 humanity and technology has been growing by leaps and bounds.

Today I realized I got way more of what I wanted back then than even I had realized. All because my favorite 14 year old looked at me and said "No Sam, I'm sorry, but you can't just tell you phone to call someone. They don't work that way." I realized as she started to say that I could in fact do just that. So when she finished I said "You mean if I look at my phone and say: 'Call {hername}' it's not going to do it?" She laughed and said "No, sorry they don't work that way." At which point her phone started ringing. "Hold on, someone ... HEY! How did you do that?" as the caller ID said it was me.

Voice dialing? Easy peasy! Have it talk to me and give me directions to anything I want to goto? Sure, I can say find nearest Ruby Tuesdays and it will not only find it but will give me turn by turn directions to get there either on foot, in the car, or by mass transit. Pull up information from the web for locations of hidden geocaches and then let me home in on the location with a radar display that tracks my location with respect to the cache and shows me if I'm getting closer to it? Simple. Handle email, voice mail, text messages and phone calls to anyone anywhere? Yup, there's and app for that. Manage my money, track my expenses, and so much more? Yup, it'll do that too.

Smaller than an original Trek communicator with way more features, unlimited access to the music, videos, information and more? All voice controlled? Yeah. And it's all in one device. I'd say that's pretty cool. But being able to startle my favorite 14 year old by showing her that science fiction isn't so much fiction anymore, well that was priceless!

Head - Desk!

2010-01-08T01:49:00.003-05:00

One friend is getting growled at because someone else decided she wasn't growing fast enough according to her view of things. Ridiculous that.

Another friend, has in effect, become a 45 year old Daughter I didn't want to have. Seems to be a theme in my life. After working with her for several years being supportive helping her grow, and giving her enough room to figure out what's going on, she's turned around suddenly, lied to me, and completely disregarded everything we've talked about. She has finally got another friend who lives closer to her, who is not aware of her history and is playing us off each other. She doesn't hesitate to call me up to be down and depressed and have me lend a hand getting her out of the hole, but then competely ignores what we've talked about. I'm kinda past tired of all this.

So I'm going to go on vacation. No more hours on the phone with someone who isn't terribly interested in making progress, but using the time to wallow in her own misery while dragging me there. Nope, not going to do it. Not going to have a days long conversation about taking proper steps forward, about getting help, about turning her life around so that she can go to other friend and convince her that she's right so she can ignore me.

It's fine by me. I have better things, better people I can spend my time and energy on.

So Jan goes on restriction again, and I'm not sure how long it's going to last. She can write me, but we're not going to be doing the phone for a while again. I'm tired of getting dragged into the madness. If she'd rather keep on repeating the same cycles of health issues that she refuses to deal with, fine, tis her choice. But I don't have to be involved in that. I don't have to willingly let myself get dragged into all that. I don't have the energy for it. Life is too short to keep doing the same thing again and again hoping for a different response.

And after the earlier conversation we had about ringtones, I'm setting Jan's to voicemail.

Sorry.

Now that I think she finally understands me ...

2010-01-07T01:01:00.003-05:00

... my GP is retiring. On the one hand, since she really IS a female Bones McCoy, I say more power to her, she deserves a chance to relax, unwind, and not be running all the time. On the other, well, damn! Had a routine visit with her today (before I found out it would be our last) and we talked about my health, and like many of my friends, she was trying to encourage me to get out more often. I was bound and determined not to cry at this session for no other reason than she almost always manages to get to asking questions that ... provoke me? Not quite the right word I'm thinking, but I'm at a lose for words at the moment. Anyway, today I somehow managed to reach a point where she got an understanding of more of the complex woman who cries in her office. "Do you ever think you might have PTSD?" She asks. Actually I was diagnosed with it years ago and I'm working to overcome it. So finally she "gets it."

And now she's leaving. Oy!

She's assured me that she's carefully interviewed the doctor who is taking over her practice, worked with her side by side at the office she works at now, and is confident that I'll like and get along with the new doctor who (thank the Gods) is also female. So when next I'm there, I'll meet the new doctor. And then, I have to get to know the new doctor, and hope it won't take as long for her to understand me better. So we'll see, and the journey continues.

Who needs DSL or a cable modem?

2010-01-06T17:59:00.003-05:00

3G Coverage in Cincinnati with T-Mobile is more like a cable modem with no wires involved:

Just thought I'd share something cool after my last dark post. Mind you this is the speed my cell phone gets on the T-Mobile network. Maps? I've got Google Maps with turn by turn voice navigation, no problem at all. Plus, like AT&T I can talk on the phone and surf at the same time. For lower unlimited rates than with an iPhone. Apps, we got those too, tens of thousands of apps for everything under the sun.

Trauma, Change, People and Toasters.

2010-01-02T19:45:00.006-05:00

********** WARNING MAY TRIGGER **********

THIS POST CONTAINS VIDEO AND THEMES WHICH MAY TRIGGER FLASHBACKS

THIS IS GOING TO BE ONE OF MY RARE DARKER POSTS, I'M SORRY.

Trauma changes people. There is no question in my mind as to the veracity of this statement. It is a fact, not even a theory or a nice safe construct by the mental health community. For years in public service I was aware this was a concept, but I had precious little understanding of what this really meant to a life.

Now however as a survivor of trauma, and lots of it, I can relate to it in ways I wish I wasn't capable of at this level. I am I fear, forever changed, altered, never to reclaim parts of myself, my life that I knew before. This periodically weighs heavy on my heart, because for all her flaws, to woman I was, did not deserve to die. What she had to offer the world, and brought to it wasn't horrible. She was kind and understanding, competent, useful, helpful and gifted. She had every bit as much right to a life as anyone else. But if you look for her in my eyes, well She's Not There. To be honest, no-one laments her loss more than I do in ways, because things that she never would have noticed, or cared much about, send me into a tailspin. I miss what she took for granted as something she could do easily and I cannot do at all.

In therapy we talk. And talk. And talk more. Always talking, really I fear at times I will tire of the talking. And in ways I have. I have not found a new therapist here in Ohio because I'm terrified of trying to find a new one, and worse, having to bring a new one up to speed. Not because I'm afraid to share what I've been through, but because the act of relating it, pouring it out again, is like a knife to my heart. Inserted slowly, turned, twisted and tearing away at me, but I don't die from it somehow. Nope, somehow I still go on, but in this kind of agony that often makes me want to sell out the resurrection ship and embrace the bomb.

For those of you who don't follow the new Battlestar Galactica I'll briefly explain her in a moment. For those of you who DO follow it, I just want to state for the record it still worries me that the character from the show I most identify with is Gina. She was the "Six" assigned to Cain's Battlestar Pegasus. Mind you out of the four seasons, she was a "minor" character and plot point that began and ended in short span of episodes. First a brief youtube video that struck me while looking for something to anchor this, and give those of my readers who don't know BSG some kind of idea what I'm talking about.

The series has any number of different women, different characters one can identify with. It says something about me that I should identify with Gina. Not something terribly positive, especially given her end. But I'm working on it. Not to mention the fact that while I have the frightening ability to understand now how, or why she might directly or indirectly take so many innocent people with her, it is still thankfully only my nightmares from childhood that have me taking life that does not belong to me. For those who didn't follow the show, Gina is the woman in this clip who is chained and abused, and eventually starts an atomic weapon counting down and just sits there waiting for the flash. Ostensibly it was a move on the part of a resistance group to deal a blow to the fleet, but in reality, she knew it was the only way for her to find peace.

In the series, Gina was technically a machine. A Cylon, which in the story arc is a race of self aware, highly intelligent machines created by man to serve, who eventually rebelled and started a war against their creators. In the story arc, the humans are with a few notable exceptions, unable to see the Cylons are real, as alive, as something more than machines. In Gina's case, she was discovered as being a spy, and because she was the lover of the ships commander, Admiral Cain, she was treated to some seriously inhuman abuse. But she's a machine, so who cares some people might say.

See that's the problem, it's way too easy for "people" to distance themselves from the horror they inflict on other people. Be they "machines" or not. Gina is of a race of machines, but that doesn't mean in this case that she doesn't have feelings. It doesn't mean her feelings or rights can be discarded on a whim because she's somehow less than, or inferior to anyone else else, regardless of their origin. In the story arc, Cylon's have a type of immortality. If a given body dies, they are downloaded to the "resurrection ship" and loaded into a new body.

In a powerful scene in the brig, after lying there catatonic for days or longer, her body a canvas of pain from the abuse the Humans inflicted on her, she finally asks Boltar (The geek with the glasses) to help her kill herself. As her story develops, she sees an opportunity to deal a crushing blow to her "own" people (the Cylons) and help the Humans in their fight toward freedom. She tells the Humans how to find and destroy the resurrection ship. This means that any Cylons killed, stay dead. It also ends her chance at immortality, because once the resurrection ship is gone, when she dies, that's it, her life is over.

I could see where this was going from a mile off. Probably because given the chance to do something similar, at one time I would have. To be clear, the single biggest reason I'm alive now, and working so hard to overcome my own past is because I know for a fact, that if I were to end this life, the pain would travel with me to my next life. How? Because in 1961 in a bathroom tub, I took my life. I remember every detail as clearly as anything that's happened to me in this life, I remember how it all felt. In some ways to be honest I remember it better than some of the details of this life. I remember failing. Oh I ended the body I had at the time, but how I felt, what I'd been through I remember in great and painful detail. Since there is no resurrection ship that I can have destroyed to render me mortal, I'm stuck dealing with this. All of it.

Now before you say it. No, suicide doesn't solve anything but not perhaps for the reasons you're thinking. We are all, each of us, every bit as immortal as the Cylons only more so, because there's no resurrection ships involved. You may not believe it but we are. And if you're thinking nothing is ever bad enough to warrant taking of one's own life, be thankful you have no idea what you're talking about. Ignorance truly is bliss in this case. So unless you've been imprisoned and beaten more than half to death, REPEATEDLY, please don't presume to tell me nothing is ever that bad. Because not long ago, I was in effect, if not in fact chained to that prison floor waiting and praying for the strength and ability to take my own life. I can more than just identify with Gina, for the purposes of what I'm trying to share here, I am Gina.

So Gina made it possible for the Humans to destroy this threat to themselves, but it was obvious that was a step towards her own goal of death. Because then she'd truly cease to exist, leaving behind the horrific memories of her abuse and pain, leaving behind the flashbacks, the triggers, the scars, both physical and more importantly emotional and mental. She would never again have to live through a flashback. Never again awaken screaming from a nightmare wishing she could die and finally escape. Never have something, a sight, a smell, a sound, a turn of phrase, a look or a touch trigger a flashback.

For those who've never lived through one, grossly over simplified, a flashback is when you are reminded, suddenly and without warning, of something horrific you've lived through in the past. But it's not as simple as a memory that you can dismiss. A flashback is often a full on reliving of what you experienced. Every detail, how it looked, felt, sounded, smelled, EVERYTHING in a level of detail so real, and so present as to block out what's going on in reality at the moment. Suddenly you are back in that moment. Being abused, violated, beaten and raped, whatever the case may be. I mention the examples I do because those are the things I went through.

Rape victims find it difficult or impossible to ever connect psychically with another human being. Those who've been beaten and raped by someone we loved, gave ourselves to heart, mind, body and soul to that person often find it difficult or impossible to ever connect with another human being more than just physically, but mentally, emotionally and spiritually as well. Often the thought alone of having someone touch us makes us flinch and pull away, because we are terrified at some level that it could happen again. Regrettably, people who have never had to deal with anything like this have no idea what it's like to have lived through something like this.

So, back to Gina. She started out as someone confident, assured, capable, and even loving and loved, who happened to be an enemy agent. Does nothing to discount the fact that she has a heart, mind and some say, a soul of her own. As a Toaster (The Human Slang term for Cylons) some might argue that machines cannot have souls. Whatever the case may be, I'm not here to debate a machine lifeforms soul. Because truly, we Humans are factually merely a collection of inorganic compounds that have become a bio-organic machines of incredible complexity. The Cylon "Skin Job" Toasters are bio-organic machines of incredible complexity. We have souls, who are we to say that they doesn't have souls?

In Gina's case, she believed, and to the best of her knowledge and belief, the end of the resurrection ship would mean her death ended her pain, suffering, memories, flashbacks, nightmares and scars. All of them. Forever. She'd never have to relive that trauma again. You know there's a powerful allure in that.

The void beacons, "Come forget, have it all erased, never have to remember again."

Gina, after selling out the resurrection ship, sets about making possible her own death. The certainty of oblivion that means her memories, feelings, her very soul is blasted into an incoherent morass of random energy by the atomic flash and pursues this end with a single mindedness of a woman on a mission. She sits there with the armed weapon waiting for the massive release of energy and light that will erase her from the universe as if she'd never been ... born? But to get there, she's become someone else. She cannot connect with anyone, cannot even allow someone to touch her with affection because of her fear that she'll be hurt again.

I can relate. It's been years since Earl and I were in the same room, let alone the same state. It's been years since he died. I've even been to his grave. But I still have trouble letting people touch me, connecting with people, even having them too close often causes me to back away in fear. I'm not the confident. outgoing, gregarious capable, talented woman I once was. I'm no longer able to do things I once did, and I often look back at what I can remember of the past and wonder at what's been lost. That woman, that unique and essential being is gone. With her, the hopes, dreams and aspirations of a future she'd dreamed of her whole life equally lost to time. The future she often looked forward to? Don't look for her because She's Not There. She's as gone as Gina, because I remain where she once was, and I'll be happy to make it out alive. By that I mean, not dying at my own hand.

Because I'm faced with the soul crushing fact that when this body I inhabit no longer functions, I'll be back to the other side of the veil between life and death, and I'll have some tough choices to make. Where to go, what next to do. Do I move onto another life, or spend some time on the other hand recovering from this life? What I want to know is why do I have to carry this with me. Why must this scar on my soul haunt me. I've been assured by people who claim to know that I won't feel this way forever, but I'm so tired now, sometimes it overwhelms me, threatening to engulf me, and have the darkness and pain return. Or worse, leave me so angry I do something rash and unlike me. Something the woman I used to be wasn't even capable of. Her heart and soul hadn't been poisoned, she hadn't had her innocence forcibly stripped from her by a heartless, selfish machine of a being that was so self involved that he couldn't or wouldn't see her as a real live person with a heart, soul, mind and body that mattered.

Earl was no matter how I chose to explain him, a horrible creature. A soulless machine bent on what HE wanted and the hell with anyone else. Did he have a soul? Yes, regrettably, because he still haunts me some. That's a story for another day, another post. I'm forced based on experience to acknowledge he has a soul, and I know that one day, in another time and place, he;s going to have to live through something as horrific and soul crushing. But I wouldn't wish that on him or anyone else regardless of how he treated me.

For me, I take things day by day, making progress when and where I can. Taking back what I can of life. I am not the same, not even close, to the woman I was before I met Earl, or even when we married. Trauma changes people. Forever. Once you've lived through something traumatic, you are never the same. Even long after any wounds have healed, you are left scared, broken and tired. You even get sick and tired of being sick and tired. Sure, it sounds funny, but it's anything but. In cases where there is mental and emotional trauma to go with the physical, it's even harder.

I cannot tell you how many time I've said, with complete seriousness and sincerity that I'd wished that a stranger had attacked me in a park, beat and raped me there and left me for dead, because you know it would have been easier to heal. He'd have been someone I had no feelings for, had never given myself to, never trusted with my heart, mind, body and soul.

The woman I was in the time before would have had sympathy for Gina, but would never have identified with Gina from a first person perspective. The woman who dreamed of a future that included a home, husband, children and grand children, growing old hand in hand with the man (or woman) of her dreams on the porch watching the sunset and her grand children play in the yard? Well don't look for her on that porch in a home full of love and family, because She's Not There. And now she never will be. Because I'm not her. I'm terrified of letting anyone that close to me again and if even if I live to be 168 as she was once told, I don't see myself having that house, that porch, children and grandchildren, let alone someone that I trust with my heart, soul, mind and body.

Trauma changes people, and Toasters too.

I spent time on a floor a nearly catatonic mess, but the chains that held me were those around my heart. The scars not on my body but my soul. Eventually I got up off the floor, and since I know throwing my life away isn't going to solve anything, I'm working on living with something done to me for no reason. I'm left with the lingering damage to my heart, soul, mind and body.

I am not the same. And the majority of my time and energy is spent finding new ways to live in a world I don't feel safe in. Left with the knowledge that my trust, heart, mind, body and soul was betrayed and violated by the one person I thought I was safe with. The one person who swore he'd never hurt me, and would love me always. I have to learn how to trust again. I just don't know if I can, because I'm no longer the person I was.

What is the cost of unlimited phone service?

2009-12-28T21:01:00.002-05:00

Sometime ago I came to a crisis point where my phone plan was getting in the way of what I needed to do in life. When I spoke to the phone company because I'd been with them for quite a number of years they offered me unlimited service for ten dollars a month more than I was paying them a month. Historically I almost never went over my allocated peak minutes. Then again I watched my usage like an owl tracking prey at night. The crisis involved helping my sister deal with some things back home in Colorado and quickly set a torch of my allocation of minutes for the month.

It was worth it I thought to pay the extra ten dollar a month not to have to panic if my usage went over again, so I quickly accepted my carriers offer.

Today while suffering the limitations of chatting with a friend online, she wondered if we knew each other well enough to exchange phone numbers. I met her through reading her blog, added her as a friend on Facebook and until today we were more or less electronic friends. But I felt like I knew her well enough, and have developed a respect for her that I sent my number to her straight away as my reply. Seconds later the phone rang. As we hung up after a time of chatting it dawned on me, this was the best part of unlimited phone service. Enjoyed talking with my friend free from the worries of peak minutes or off peak, what plan I was on, what network and so forth. What is the cost of unlimited phone service? It's priceless!

Luxury, Tithing and Carbon Footprint.

2009-12-27T00:41:00.002-05:00

I have a new definition of "luxury" these days. Luxury is making bread often enough to intentionally give ten percent of it to the local wildlife. On purpose. Luxury is taking part of a loaf of bread I only baked four days ago and throwing it to the birds, squirrels, ducks and deer.

I can go back to sharing some of my bounty, tithing if you will. Instead of handing it to some church that is only likely to use my money to tell people what they CANNOT do, I can return something healthy to the world to help nurture and grow the world from whence my bounty came. Tithing is helping the world and all of God's creatures, not just the upright, bipedal ones.

Minimizing my carbon footprint means the gift of luxury, the cycle of life. Giving something back instead of just taking all the time.

I've wanted a bread machine for years, but I'd not really considered what it could mean in the bigger picture. I wanted it because it would mean less work for me to have it, just push a button and fresh bread on demand without all the time involved, plus I don't have to heat up a whole oven for a single loaf of bread. So I'm saving money all the way around.

For years I've been bitching about the fact that a fresh loaf of bread cost a nickel in 1905 and now a century later is three dollars for something that is already several days old by the time I take out a slice out of the plastic bag and it's traveled hundreds of miles to get to me. In 1905 the ingredients were planted, harvested, ground and made into bread by hand. From there the fresh loaves were usually placed into the window ready for sale, by the same hands that made them, and when sold, were placed into a bag by those same hands. By the time I cut into the loaf at home, the bread was still fresh. Making my own at home made it even fresher. A bit more expensive because of my hard work, but it was much a labor of love.

Over many years between then and now I kept on making my own bread whenever I could because having grown up in a house where fresh bread was a regular commodity and the smell of it baking brings back good memories it was well worth the work. Machinery however replaced all the hard working hands between planting and my table, and I can go into the supermarket and get a loaf of bread that has never been touched by human hands. Machines were supposed to cut costs and improve our life by making things easier and cheaper.

Easier and cheaper? Three dollars? What? Plus the fresh made bread a century ago was made with very few ingredients and NO man made chemicals, fillers, preservatives or whatever else goes into it these days. It's made with ingredients that were shipped hundreds or more miles to be made into bread. It's made by machines, packaged, shipped, even sliced all by machines.

So I make my own when I can, but more and more the time and effort is outside my energy and time level. It's the remembering to punch the dough down, let it rise, do it again and so forth. I know that sounds like a cop out, but given what I'm recovering from, I'm just not ready for the demands making a loaf of bread once a week or so is more than I'm ready for right now.

A bread machine, I put everything in, press some buttons and walk away. When it beeps, the bread is done. And it doesn't have much, or if I buy fully organic ingredients, any artificial ingredients. Plus I can, while it's cooling, slice off a bit, give it a touch of butter and savor the taste right then. No fuss, muss or bother, and it's healthy for me.

So it's kind of a win/win/win situation all the way around. Cheaper, healthier, easier, fresher bread? How can I go wrong. So it dawned on me that giving something back just kinda completes the cycle of life here by nurturing nature some. And you know, that feels good to me. Being part Amerind and having gotten a flavor for the way my ancestors lived the land, giving something back really appeals to me. Plus there's a certain irony, even perhaps justice in feeding bread to the world around me that is fresher than a loaf I could buy in the store.

Because I know that from the time it comes out of the ovens, cools, gets put in bags, loaded onto trays, stacked on carts, loaded into trucks, shipped to the distributer, unloaded and then loaded onto other trucks, shipped to stores, rolled into the store, and finally makes it onto shelves it's already at least four days old. So when I buy it and take it home it's already older than what I'm giving back to the world, so I kinda like that.

Who'd have thunk it?

2009-12-14T11:57:00.002-05:00

It's 11:57 as I write this. In the morning. Which is why it say 11:57 and not 23:57 which is usually when I stop in. I have another post in the works, but I just thought I'd remark briefly at the wonder of being awake and underway in the day at such an hour. Then again I was in bed by 03:03 for a change instead of 07:30. Yes, I keep time around here in 24 hour notation, more in self defense than anything. Lets me know where in the day I am. Which considering the different places and times I make it to bed, and then wake up, this makes my life easier.

This morning for example I woke in Atlantis. As in the fictional city of Atlantis from the Stargate franchise. Admittedly she's not as far away as she once was, now that she's out in the San Fransisco bay, but still it's nice to wake up someplace I know well and enjoy spending time at. I just lay there for a while, doing some Reiki on myself, enjoying the smell of the ocean and the gentle rolling motion as the entire city rides the ocean currents. Walking around the city on a day to day basis getting things down you don't really have an opportunity to appreciate that this entire city is floating. But laying there in bed meditating, it's impossible to miss. I often notice it sitting in the commissary of the library, just enjoying a cup of tea and savoring the peace. So waking up there this morning was a welcome change of pace.

Fell back to sleep briefly, I mean how could I not, lulled as I was. And woke up back here in Ohio. Just on the early side for me. So I thought I'd do something different and get my day started. For my next trick, I think I'm going to have some lunch, around lunch time for a change!

Yes, I know, and overall boring entry with nothing major going on, but you know, sometimes these are good too. I mean if my life was constant deep thoughts and crisis I'd probably lose my mind. Again. After all, that's what did it the last time. So I hope this finds you all well and hopefully having a peace filled day yourselves.

Droid does? Oh yeah, Droid DOES!

2009-12-11T21:40:00.005-05:00

So the media has been having a ball with Droid and what it does. Verizon has been marketing the hell out of it's new Droid phone. All the new commercials about what Droid does, the smart phone gone just over the board into magic. Ask your phone to find something and it tells you who to get there? Yeah, that's GPS. They've been around for a while. However there's a piece of high tech hardware you have to program, load with maps and data, learn to use, and then pay attention to the little screen when it beeps and tells you with text on the tiny screen to turn to make it all work. I know, I had one, and honestly it was a bunch of work to, well, make it work. In the end, it really wasn't worth all the time and effort I had to pour into it to make it work. In that regard, it wasn't a hammer.

A hammer? How the heck did we get from advanced technology to hammers?

Well I'm a simple country girl. Really, grew up in farm country, stopped eating Chicken for a goodly while when I was a child because I made the connection to my little friends vanishing and food on the table. A hammer is a simple device that does something really well. It drives nails, and in the case of a clawfoot, pulls them out. That's what it does. Simple, straight forward and

effective. Bigger nails? Get a bigger hammer. It is a very simple idea, a tool that works and doesn't need an advanced science degree. A Hammer does.

When I was growing up in the country, we had a box on the wall, that you checked first to make sure no one else in the neighborhood was using, and then you made your call. That's all it did.

Back in the early eighties, I got my first portable phone that was wireless. Big brick of a thing that fit in either a big shoulder bag, or could be mounted in your car. Pick it up, dial, if you've got coverage, the call goes through and the rates were insane. But it was a phone. The shoulder bag? Well my purse with all it's crap in it is way smaller and lighter than my first cell phone. But it worked great as a phone and that was what mattered.

So now I have this tiny little phone that is something right out of Star Trek Next Generation, and happens to be a "Droid" phone. So today I decided I'd see just how close to reality the commercial was. After all, we all know how advertisers can, shall we say, embelish things? So,

first, for those who've not yet seen it, here's a quick clip from Verizon talking about their Droid phone and how it finds things:

So my question of course was how much of this is real, and how much marketing hype? I mean I've had a GPS in the car for quite some time, but it's slightly older, and more work to use than the one in my head. Yes, I know, GPS in her head? What? Is she cybernetic with some sort of top secret scifiesq wet ware jacked into her brain? No, not so much. I just have this scary amazing sense of direction, and an intuitive grasp of things. Plus as a child, having had too much time on my hands and wanting to stay out of trouble, I studied things. Like Maps. I only wish I was kidding. So I can get to pretty much anywhere, from pretty much anywhere, and you can, as my father used to do when I was a child, blindfold me, drive me out into the middle of know where and see if I could find my way home. Anyway, I digress. I wanted to find the nearest branch of my bank to where I was, and wanted my Droid to tell me how to get there. First I should state that I do not have a Verizon Droid.

I have a T-Mobile MyTouch 3G that frankly is much more appealing to my eyes than the Verizon Droid. Softer lines, nicer curves, and a lovely Merlot color. Much, much better. For those less into lines, curves and colors, it comes in jet black, and artic white as well. Plus there's an entire line of "skins and shells" that one can put on it to have it look anyway you want it too. Me, I'm perfectly happy with the way it looks right out of the box. So, Merlot it is. Anyway back to my point, testing to see how good this really was at finding, and then directing me to a place I wanted to go. Because my phone runs exactly the same operating system and all the same software, I saw no reason my Droid should do exactly what the commercial above showed the Verizon Droid doing.

So I hit search, told it to find my bank and hit navigate. Wow. Exactly like the commercial. Turn by turn voice directions, and it even recovered very nicely when I drove right past one of the turns. This was the big issue I'd had with my Garmin GPS. Aside from the fact that every time I wanted to go somewhere I had to hook the Garmin to my computer, load in all the maps, program in the route, and then put it into the car to use it, it was much more user intensive in the field. With the Garmin I had to be watch the screen constantly to see where I was supposed to turn, and the closest to an audible indication I could get to an upcoming change was a beep, and then direction flashing on the small monochrome (and hard to read) screen. When driving a car, not the safest thing in the world to be doing. So the Garmin never really got used for driving directions and could never be used for spur of the moment, find me the closest branch of MY bank. Nope, Garmin could not do that. It didn't know where my bank branches are, that was something I'd have had to program in first. As a hammer, the Garmin failed. Don't even try to consider it a Droid, because a Droid by definition is supposed to be able to do all that for me. Especially given the commercial right?

Well I'm pleased to say as hammers go, this one is a top of the line, chrome plated, Droid! Hit the search button, told it to find my bank, gave me a list of choices closest to me, let me pick one at random, and then took me right to it with voice directions. Periodically I looked at the screen to see what it was showing, but more important was the voice that said "In 1/4 mile turn left onto Linden Blvd" and then as the turn was coming up, "Turn left onto Linden Blvd now" as I was driving along. The big test came when I decided to see just how smart my Droid was and drove right past the turn I was supposed to take. This was another point where my Garmin would get hopelessly flummoxed. I'd be off track and it would have no idea what to do since it wasn't programmed for that. My Droid on the other hand recalculated the route and calmly said "In 1/4 mile make a u turn at Obrien Ave." like nothing had ever happened. Executed the u turn and the Droid informed me I'd now be turning right onto Linden Blvd like nothing at all had happened.

As hammers go? Very, very, smart hammer. Finally a GPS that will really take me where I want to go, even if I have no idea where that is. Later in the day I told it to find my the nearest post office in Indiana. Again no fuss, muss or bother, told it what I wanted and it told me where to go and how to get there. Twice during the journey I specifically made bad turns to see how or if it would recover. As it happened, flawlessly recovered each time without my having to wait while it collected it's whits. During the drive to the post office I happened to come upon a location that my intuition told me was the location of a geocache. I'd not set out to go geocaching that day, and didn't have the detailed cache information with me. No worries, opened a browser (yes, a web browser on my Droid) bulled up the details and set about grabbing, signing, and replacing the cache near a ski resort in Southern Indiana.

Yes, a Ski resort known as Perfect North Slopes right in southern Indiana. Despite not having had any real snow here this season, the snow machines had been working overtime to lay down a nice usable base of fresh snow. Not only did my Droid serve to get me here, but took this image and cropped it down to my specifications to include in this article. Pretty spiffy.

When done sightseeing and geocaching I got back into jumper one, and switched page over to the Navigation screen, patiently waiting for me to continue on my journey. Took me right to the post office now that I was done messing around. Got my stamp, mailed my letter and was back on my way to the rest of my planed activities for the day. Does Droid search for things and then take you there? It does!!!

And she's dreaming again . . .

2009-12-07T01:34:00.003-05:00

So last night I had a dream that has stuck with me. I was out wandering around and don't even remember what I was doing at the moment. The part however that stuck with me is I was heading up some stairs and a woman was coming down, as she got close she said "Are Lesbians allowed down here?"

I blinked, looked around and said in some surprise "Of course? Why wouldn't Lesbians be allowed?" as if the thought was (and is) crazy to me.

She said "Well I just wasn't sure if you were leaving because someone was giving you problems?"

I just don't know about a world were people have to live worried that we are somehow less than other people because we are different. I wanted to give her a hug and tell her everything was going to be fine, but I couldn't honestly say that because I have no idea what she'd run into in her life. But it still left me sad she'd even have to think that way. For her to live with any kind of fear is something I can unfortunately can relate to on a deep level. Not so much because I may or may not be a Lesbian, but because I lived so long in fear.

Come to think of it, I have no idea why she asked me. It's not like either one of us look particularly like a Lesbian whatever that might be. Maybe I just looked trustworthy and honest. Oh, right, that's why I loved in fear so long. Ah well, anyway this wasn't really about me. It was about a world where anyone has to live in any kind of fear. Regrettably, it's this one.

Busty McBabbles rides again . . .

2009-11-21T04:24:00.003-05:00

. . . and while I saw it coming, I'm still stunned that an editor somewhere didn't set a match to this horrid excuse for a book. On "Going Rogue" Ed at Ginandtocos.com writes:

The public have merely been led to believe that she is a dangerously stupid, erratic narcissist. Going Rogue is all about setting that record straight, offering a wildly implausible excuse for every crash and bang in her train wreck of a political career.

and

Now we are faced with the daunting task of wrapping our minds around the Palin memoir Going Rogue, appearing atop a bestseller list near you. Millions of copies will be sold of a book written by someone who can't write, intended for an audience that doesn't read, about the thoughts of a person who doesn't think. God is dead.

and lastly,

Going Rogue is an irritatingly vernacular, fantastical, and cloying autobiography of a malignant narcissist, every bit as thunderingly stupid throughout as the person behind it. In what world is it either necessary or desirable to spend $9 and four hours to figure that much out about Sarah Palin?

To be honest, this is exactly what I expected. Ed has saved me the pain of reading this work of fiction to confirm what I already knew. Normally I don't judge a book by either it's cover, or it's reviews, but having suffered the mind splitting agony of Palin off a prompter a while back, I knew there aren't enough ghost writers in the 'verse to make Palin look good. She is, and has been all the fun of a monkey shit fight at the zoo, just without all the fur. The flying excrement, oh no worries, it's in there. I think I'm going to send Ed the $9 dollars he saved me as a small token of thanks for heading off the hours of protracted vomiting this book would have induced. Reading the review is the only GOOD thing to come out of the whole sorted book concept. The only thing more terrifying than this book are the tens of thousands of morons lining up at her book signings. To call them Lemmings would be an insult to Lemmings. These mindless automatons flocking in droves to her book signings are all the "fun" of Robots who've been programmed without the three laws, or worse, "Skynet" of the "Terminator" franchise. And you all thought Ronny "Raygun" Reagen was bad? Ha! Whatever you do, just say NO to Busty McBabbles and her horrific work of fiction. Save the $9 dollars for a gallon or two of gas instead, you'll need it to drive to Canada if this assault on sanity does run for President in 2012.

A taste of the past . . .

2009-11-19T22:40:00.002-05:00

When I was young, I adored ketchup on fries, burgers, hot dogs and so much more. I even used to make ketchup sandwiches, I know, weird, but hey, I was a strange kid. And then, suddenly my romance with ketchup was over. I mourned for a while. It was Heinz, that much I remember, but I never understood why I didn't like it anymore. And after a while I didn't really care anymore, I just didn't have the same feelings from ketchup that I had. I kept it around, because I still use it on some things, but much less often than I had.

Recently I had to get more. And was faced with an isle full of different kinds of Heinz. On a whim, I noticed the reduced sugar variety and since I prefer things with less sugar, I got that. Figured it was a good plan. Plus, I don't use tomato sauce that has sugar in it, why put up with it in ketchup right?

So I imagine by now you know where I'm going with this right? The first thing I noticed when I tasted it was it tasted like me old friend from all those years ago. It's much less sweet and a bit more zesty than "standard" off the shelf Heinz, which makes it perfect! But the first thing I noticed is it tastes like Heinz used to taste, simply awesome! Which means of course that I have ketchup to put on fries again! Sugar isn't even in the ingredients. Admittedly sucralose (Splenda) is, which is fine, because it's made from sugar, but healthy unlike Aspartame.

But it's the taste that has me so happy. Because it tastes like ketchup used to taste!

My latest picture ...

2009-11-06T05:20:00.011-05:00

It dawned on me that I didn't have any recent pictures, and the one I'd been using was lovely in terms of color, but it wasn't the best. So, the mood struck me and I thought I'd take a new one today. Mind you it was taken with a beat up old Sony that had been in the bottom of my purse for the longest time, and I did it handheld in the bathroom mirror. The only processing pre or post was to fluff my hair with my fingers and ad some Gaussian blur to the background to give it a bit more depth. Otherwise, this is me, au-natural and up close. Certainly much closer than the last one, which not coincidentally was taken with the same camera in April of 2008. So this one was taken today.

For those who are wondering if I'm double joined or have super elastic arms, it was all done with mirrors. Well one to be exact. I held the camera up, and pointed it slightly down and closer to the mirror than to me. With the tiny little lens zoomed in slightly. This way I avoided the classic "Took my own picture in the mirror look!" All just a trick of the light, and a wee bit of simple physics. Those who remember grade school science, will remember that the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection. A heartfelt thank you to all the teachers who've toughed my life over the years, and especially Mr. Wilbert in seventh grade science. He found me endlessly amusing because I had one of the first led digital watches (back in 77) that glowed red on my wrist, I knew really well how to make a railgun, but refused to cut open a frog. You want me to do what? Thanks but no.

For my friends who are photographers, please accept my apologies, so totally not my best work. I was just to lazy to haul out the big gun, tripod, lighting and do a proper job in post. So this is grainy, lossy, small, and the layer work for the background selection was pure quick freehand lazy. One day soon, I'll do this right, but for now, it's better than what I had. Oh, right, plus I'd not ex-foliated my skin, blown out my hair, plucked my brows, put on any makeup or dressed particularly well. In other words, both I, and the picture are a mess. But it's one of the best ones to date in spite of all that.

Say NO to hate!

2009-11-05T18:10:00.006-05:00

The cause of Equality suffered a crushing blow in Maine on election day. Equality California who similarly suffered last year, has a petition going to implore President Obama to step in and I think it's an awesome idea. Please join my in signing the petition? Please spare Equality a few precious moments to send President Obama a clear indication that what has happened in Maine, California, Arizona, and 31 other states that it is unconstitutional for the "Majority" to deliberately and intentionally enshrine discrimination against a small, but growing majority in to our legal system.

We need to make it clear that narrow minded bigotry and hate is NOT a family value we wish to hand down to our children. We need to take steps to reign in the terror of foolishness that the religious institutions are spreading. We need to fight the lies with the beauty of truth! We need to spread love, acceptance and understanding through out the land, loving our neighbors. What would Buddha say? What would Jesus say or do? They would stand together, as equals with all their brothers, sisters and children of a loving God to say NO TO HATE! We can do no less! Please take a moment and sign with me? Thank you.