Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Itadakimas'

We have been so fortunate as to have a series of exchange students stay at our home. I have not learned very much in Japanese. But I am impressed with the custom before meals of folding the hands in prayer fashion, and saying: Itadakimas. This means “I am receiving.” Regardless of one’s religious orientation or beliefs, this reverent mindfulness of what we about to do when we eat together seems very appropriate.






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Saturday, March 20, 2010

Artist's Winter Salad

Recipe for the artistic cook

Purchase a bag of chopped slaw cabbage (or prepare your own).
Stir in a Tb. Olive oil.
Add a quarter cup of seasoned rice vinegar (or some other vinegar if you wish).
Add to your taste chopped: green pepper, red pepper, peeled cucumber, radishes, cherry tomatoes, celery, red onion or other vegetables. Make it pretty!
Toss lightly.
Store in an air-tight container. Keeps well.



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Ten Commandments for Elders

The Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule remain principles for life, with different applications as we move into the Eldering time of modern life.

1. Honor God in all that I do. There is only one God, everywhere and within me. I shall not resist where I must go, and not blame. God’s purpose is the center, not my self. I honor God by being fully exactly who I am, who He made, expressing my being through my own gifts and talents.
2. Honor the Lord’s Day. I will rest, pray, seek the community of believers and stay connected to their worship, study, service and community life.
3. Honor God’s Name. I will be an example to others of my belief, my confidence. I will be joyful in each day’s gifts, speak well of creation, and express confidence in the future. And I will bring from the past only that which is positive.
4. Respect others, both elders and descendants. I will honor their worth, their commitments, their circumstances and knowledge. I will neither judge nor denigrate anyone, past, present or future. I will remember special days, sharing both sorrows and joys. I intend to forgive everyone everything, and hope others will forgive me, as I forgive myself for my past failings.
5. Do not kill wantonly. Words are weapons, thoughts brought out of me that can injure, main, or kill the spirit in others. I will support and encourage others. I will listen compassionately and give counsel if asked.
6. Be self-controlled in using the body. Adultery and fornication are forms of using others for my own selfish purposes, without regard to their needs, or to the consequences, when I am concerned about my own physical survival. I will both give and seek affection. I will be confident of my survival in spirit. I will take care of my body by being clean, eating well, resting, and seeking help when I need truly it. I also accept my mortality and eventual death. I will sign a health care directive and free others from the burden of deciding about my end of life care.
7. Be a true witness. I will be truthful to myself and to others, and not fabricate or exaggerate to enhance myself or increase sympathy. I will face the truths of my own past and learn from them. I will entertain others with my stories of life and faith and witness to God’s work in my life. I will share my legacy in some way.
8. Do not steal. I will not rob others of their time or energy in self-serving ways. I will not deplete the resources of the earth in futile attempts to extend my life. I will give my free time and talents back to the community, however I can, if only in prayers and votes of confidence, as a part of my debt to society.
9. Do not covet personal relationships that belong to others. I will do nothing that destroys the love between my children, between them and their spouses or their children or their friends. I will strive to be on good terms with them, show interest (but not control) in the activities of others. I am open to making new friends among the living, though I miss those who have passed away before me.
10. Do not covet possessions. I will not hoard things or money, but will share while I can. I will dispose of stuff happily and willingly, and keep my affairs in order. I will make a will and sign a power of attorney with someone I can trust, mindful of the impact of my actions even after my death.







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When Did I Grow Up?

Experience counts more than the reading of many books. Some of the things learned gets into basic life assumptions, affecting a person for the rest of his/her life, unless examined closely. They are the graffiti on life’s wall.

I grew up:

When I watched the butterflies and knew I was happy, at age 5.
When I gave 35 cents to my Dad, thinking it would help with the bills, at age six, which he appreciated but clearly it was not my place to do that, then.
When I watched the neighbors slaughter their hog and cow or chickens, age seven or eight, and I understood that life eats life.
When a man groped me at age 11, so I took care that wouldn’t happen again.
When being smart in school put the boys to shame, which was against some rules I did not understand then, at age 12. I chose to be competitive anyway.
When silly high school girls around were miserable over some stupid boy and I refused to sympathize or be miserable with them over some stupid boy. I chose to be happy.
When my Father died, making me my own boss at 21.
When my first child was born, and I knew he was another whole person.
When I had no friends at age 32, that I had a problem with being judgmental!
When I clearly understood the effects of addiction, that my husband was addicted and it had colored everything. My strengths were feeding his weaknesses.
When my mother died, making me the family matriarch, although I was only 52, and that it was an important position of authority and responsibility to the end.

“Growing up” is not really about how old you are, but what you’ve learned, decided, and acted upon. Some people never ‘grow up’ in that sense. They want someone to still parent them.





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Thursday, March 18, 2010

Writing

Writing
Is an art form
First an expression of what is inside
Therapy
A place to put away roiling thoughts
Memories that please
Or disturb
Saved in journals.

But if the idea itches
And the writer scratches
Tickled to find the exact perfect word
Not repeating too often
Perhaps alliterating
Or imitating sounds
Creating the image in the mind of some reader
So that perfection is approached
But never reached
Then the child is born.

Proud of the one birthed
The writer brings it into public view
Faces critics, agents and publishers
With thick skin
Withdraws slim rejection envelopes from the mail slot
With a rueful smile, and then
Generates yet another child.

Sometimes
Others love the child too
Or see a profit in its life,
Fanning the flames of interest
So the author gives life support
To the clones
Come what may.

Fame or ignominy may follow,
At the whims of fickleness,
But the writer
Keeps writing,
Her own best audience.


March 17, 2010.







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Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Jane Eyre and Me

My Dear Alice,

You are well aware of my history at Brocklehurst School, so you know how very happy I am to have this position at Fairfield Manor. My one pupil is a delight to me. My French comes in very handy here with her, but she is an apt student in English, growing more competent every day.
I met Mr. Rochester yesterday for the first time, under the most peculiar circumstances. I walked to Millcote to post a letter, another story, and on the return walk on a narrow path, just as the Manor came in view, a great dog followed by a black horse charged out of the fog. I stepped aside as far as I could, and the dog raced right by me. The horse startled and threw its rider. He was in quite a state of pique, so I won’t even tell you what he said. Then he saw me standing to the side, swore I had caused his accident, and now needed to help him, and where the deuce did I come from anyway? It turned out that he is the master of this place!
You are as dear to me as a sister, so please come and stay with me here for awhile. The housekeeper, Mrs. Fairfax, has approved, and you can share my room. You will not in any way impede our studies. On the contrary, this place needs a lively soul.
Your Sister of the Heart, Jane Eyre


Dear Jane,
Can you meet my coach at Millcote this coming Saturday, probably around noon? I wouldn’t know which way to walk once I am let down.
Excitedly, Alice

“I am so glad you have finally come!” Jane embraced me as soon as I was clear of the coach, and the man handed down my satchel. “Come this way. Let’s leave your valise for now, as John will stop for it later.” Jane took my arm into her own and turned me toward a wide path that led away from the coach house in the village. I let her be the guide as we walked steadily through the fields, Spring just showing in the buds on bare branches. The air was chilly, and we were happy to be close together anyway, our steps matching. Though I had to watch my feet carefully, I often glanced up to see where we were headed. No fog today. Shortly the turrets of a grand house appeared on the next hill.
“Tell me more of your life here now!” I exclaimed.
“Now that Mr. Rochester is home, the food has grown excellent, and varied. Fruits from the Indies even! Meat with every meal, and eggs each day for breakfast. The whole place is spruced up, with the housekeeper and others brought in specially, restoring order the minute it is disturbed.” Jane paused.
“So what’s this Mr. Rochester like?” I asked.
“He’s a bit gruesome, gruff, I guess. Mrs. Fairfax said that in spite of being rich, he’s had a hard time in life. I don’t know about that. To me he is always proper, I guess I would put it. He has ordered me to appear at dinner and remain after every night, for conversation sake. He doesn’t seem fond of his ward, Adele, although he did bring her gifts from his travels.”
“Is he handsome?” I pressed her arm and smiled encouragingly.
“I don’t really know, having few men to compare him to, and Brocklehurst, of course, but they hardly count. You shall see for yourself tonight.”
We came to the servant’s entrance to the great hall, where we scraped mud from our shoes as best we could. Within I was afraid to speak aloud for fear of the echoes that would generate. I followed Jane, careful to hold my skirts in close and not brush anything, as I had collected mud along the hems. We practically tiptoed to the staircase, meaning to ascend to her room.
“Hold! Who is that?” boomed an authoritative male voice. We both turned on the stairs to see who this was speaking from below us.
“It’s I, Jane Eyre, and my friend Alice. She has just arrived to visit me. Mrs. Fairfax gave her approval.”
“Well, I did not approve, did I?” A rather thick set man of about forty stood firmly near the bottom of the stairs. He waited only briefly for Jane’s response. Then, “Welcome to you, Alice. Is there a surname?”
“Turner. Alice Turner. She’ll be sharing my room for a few days, Sir. We plan to take Adele for walks.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” I threw in.
“ Alice is very knowledgeable about birds and botany,” Jane added.
“If you say so. I shall expect you both after dinner, then. We’re short on visitors these days, but that will be remedied soon enough.” With that unexplained thought, he turned and left the foyer for the library.

Jane and I looked at each other, giggled quietly, then stepped up quickly to the upper hallway and Jane’s room.
“Well,” she said, breathless. “What did you think of him?”
“He’s rather…old. Is there a wife?” I asked.
“There’s a secret around here about that. I have asked Mrs. Fairfax but she never quite answers my questions before she gets so busy she can’t. John never talks. Betsy would talk maybe, if I hung in the kitchen enough, but I don’t really have time for that.”
“Maybe they’ll tell me, if I am here long enough. Is two weeks too long?” I asked.
“That’s perfect! We’ll see everything burst into Spring flowers, and the birds carry on unbelievably already. Let me show you more of the house, and introduce you to Adele and Mrs. Fairfax.
That night, and all of those evenings, Jane and I ate in the nursery with Adele. During the days we rambled about the estate, or did lessons with Adele, in English or French. Mr. Rochester seemed to me to be lurking around all the time, trying to engage Jane in conversation, sending me away to see one thing or another with Adele, or to give a message to Mrs. Fairfax. Evening conversations were certainly directed mainly at Jane. To my way of thinking, he was too attentive to the governess. Jane was, after all, not just the governess, but young, attractive, and intelligent, but also perhaps swayed by her own illusions and needs. Our time together passed swiftly.
About the tenth day he asked me, rather abruptly, when would I be leaving? I was a bit flustered. Then he added that some friends of his were travelling to the north, who would be happy to give me a ride there, if I could be ready by Friday noon. Even Jane fell into that plan.
“Oh, yes, Alice. That would be so much more pleasant than the public coach,” she said.

She didn’t make any appeal to me to stay longer, so I guess that was long enough. I finally spoke up, just before I was to leave.
“Jane, I think I need to caution you. Mr. Rochester’s attentions don’t feel quite right to me.” I hesitated. I knew from our visiting that she really did think the world of him. I hoped this would open an honest conversation.
“You’ve been a good friend to me, Alice. You don’t need to worry so. I am quite sure he is a person of good character. What would you have me do? Give up this excellent position when everything is so pleasant? You wouldn’t counsel me to do that, would you?” She stepped back just a bit. I could feel the separation growing in thought and feeling as well as space.
“It might not be as it appears now. Be cautious, my dear. I wouldn’t want you in any danger, even just dangers to the heart!” I stepped closely, clasped her tightly, and turned to finish packing and latch up my satchel. We went down the stairs arm in arm, arriving at the porte cochere just as the coach arrived. Jane and I embraced for a long time. I loathed leaving her here, now. We promised to write often.
Mr. Rochester appeared out of the library then, to the door, waving to the driver. He spoke a cheerful greeting to the passengers. He opened the door wide for me to enter and gave a flourishing bow, so that I felt swept inside. He shut the half door with a smile for me.
“Alice Turner, this is Mr. and Mrs. Gardner, friends of mine. They will take good care of you.” Reaching over the door, he gave me a light handshake. “I wish you a pleasant trip.”
“Good bye, my dear!” Jane called from the doorway, as she waved. The last I saw of her, Mr. Rochester was standing just in front of her, on a lower step, arms crossed, like the possessor of all in sight, whom he was.

I did not hear from or see Jane for years. Fortunately all turned out well, but only after some difficult years. Perhaps life always comes with heartbreak, or one does not truly live.


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Sunday, March 14, 2010

Orbs






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WE ARE EACH AN ORB

March 14, 2010.

I have photographs of orbs in my files, all sizes, all depths of glow, in different patterns. I have them from concerts, children’s programs, church services, and even in my bedroom. Those who think they know something about orb photography say they do NOT know what these are, but orbs are sensitive to light in the red spectrum (flash photography), and orbs appear for photographing when someone asks them to! They could be spirits, angels, or departed or unborn souls. So they are somehow intelligent, conscious, and in communication with us. I find this amazing.

I think we are each an orb having a human life experience. Our body is our “avatar”, a concept word not new but recently popularized by the movie. The body is our “tool set”, an instrument of action in this particular field of energy, which is rather concrete or compact, so we are constantly bumping into each other.

Love is the ability to meld, to occupy the same space with another energy field, to actually share energy. It is giving of energy to others, in word or deed. It intends only good. It can feel cozy and warm and safe. Sex could be the epitome of “love”, but not always. Holding hands might be just as good. Or lovers may never touch one another at all, yet the love flows between them. Such relationships are almost visible to many others.

Some persons actually “drain” others of energy. They suck it out, steal it, if you will. They do not do their own spiritual, mental or physical maintenance and therefore rely on others to supply to them. Co-dependence is an extreme case. Beggars on the street, who really could work, are minor cases to the passer-by, but major in themselves. In between are those who capture others in their pity-parties, never resolving their difficulties in a positive way. They just whine all the time, till the listener gets sick of it.

At “death” the orb energy flows right out of the body, back into the etheric world. It’s a gift to be able to “let it go”, almost at will, to surrender when the physical body cannot endure any longer with the integration of functions that is necessary to continuation.

Violence is then the intentional disruption of energy fields, of the spirit, mind, will, emotions or body. Intention is everything. “God sees the heart.” God IS the heart of it all. His intentions are all positive, all LOVE, all GIVING of energy. The Creator gives more energy, gives it of His very self, with no strings attached.




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Graffitti on My Life Wall

March 14, 2010.

I joined Facebook and was invited to write on my “wall”, anything at all! Apparently everyone I tag can see what I write, and then comment if they choose. It’s rather like standing around in a room full of people, all talking at the same time. Occasionally you hear (read) some interesting thought, but not often enough! I wrote my favorite quotes on my “wall” and hardly anyone cared. Anyway, there was only one comment.

On MY wall I wanted to write something worthy of being there. These sayings have a way of affecting one’s life deeply. I think they are all true and worthy wisdom.

My father said: “Act, don’t react.”

My mother said: “It’s your job to go to school, and mine to take care of this home.”

A high school teacher said: “You could do anything. You could be an artist.”

Jane Eyre and her inventor were people who lived out steady values, regardless of the consequences.

Fr. Mackin said: “Chaos is brought into order with one fixed point of reference.”

Joseph Campbell said: “You are the hero of your own life. Follow your bliss.” He also said to promote your own spirituality, “travel and learn to meditate.”

Thomas Merton said: “Find a good place and go there often.”

Jesus said, “Love God, love others as yourself, and you will fulfil all the laws.”

Buddha said, “The necessary skills of life are to wait, to fast, and to pray.” In other words, meditate.

My grandmother Ruth said, “Keep your women friends. You will always need them.”

My husband said, “The Catholic church never really changes.”

Reiki Principles say: “Just for today, do not anger. Do not worry. Earn an honest living. Honor your teachers and elders. Show appreciation to all living things.”

I have often felt like an “observer” in life, so it was a comfort to know that my personality profile if XNTJ (Meiers/Briggs) or #5 The Observer (Enneagram), has significant value and makes a contribution to the whole, for which alone time is very necessary. It’s no wonder now that I am a writer, rather than an actor! I no longer apologize for wanting to be alone for a while every day.

These pieces of wisdom have served me well, and deserve to be on my “wall”. Of course there were a few bad things said to me to, which really weren’t true, but I believed them for a while, and they had a negative effect. They were all wrong. I was called “graceless” and told not to cry. I was made to think I should stay in my “place” as a women, by both women and men including my mother. The medical community told me I had fibromyalgia and it was incurable. The hierarchical Catholic church ignores me now, which is how they deal with any issue or fact that doesn’t fit their agenda.

Only one piece of life rules have I gotten that turned out not to work well. Fr. Mackin said, “Choose your friends. Do not let them choose you.” That caused me to project an attitude of judgmentalism that got in the way of many potential relationships, which then could not happen. I have no friends really from before age 32 for that reason. Therefore: “You will choose some friends, and others will choose you. Each has a part in your life.”




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Tuesday, March 09, 2010

At the Funeral Parlour

Sunday, March 6, 2010.

We went to find out information about what the options are for dealing with a body when someone has died. What will be done with the body is key to what the survivors have to go through. The deceased can decide earlier, if he/she has the fortitude to think about it and do some research. Some survivors need more emotional closure than others. A viewing can be arranged, in deceased person’s home or at the parlour, as an option. Embalming ensures the body will be manageable for days, rather than just hours. In any case, when someone passes, notify the hospice nurse, or call 911 to notify the police and they will take it from there. An autopsy is done after an untended death, or dearth from a questionable cause. Autopsy may be omitted if the deceased was recently under a doctor’s care. Every funeral home must publish a list of their charges, but prices can vary, so survivors should “shop around” first. Generally on the West Coast cremation/burial choice is about 50/50.

  • Cremation (about $500) is considered final disposition, cremates can be put into a crypt, a plot, on a shelf or scattered any place with permission of property owner. Funeral home provides a simple white box, but urns or other containers may be purchased by survivors or others.
  • Burial, embalmed or not, requires a box. Cardboard imitation coffin or plywood box costs about $350, could be decorated, but it has to be strong enough with four handles to carry the deceased. Embalming is not required, but without that the body needs to be buried within a couple of days, can only be out of refrigeration for a few hours. Coffins generally cost $1200 and up, with $10,000 at the upper end. A grave line or vault can be weather proof or not, another cemetery charge plus the cost of the plot.
  • Green burial, wrapped in a shroud, not embalmed, a special cemetery plot is required, as there is no grave liner so the ground will sink as the body decomposes, creating landscaping problems at the cemetery.
  • Burial at sea, wrapped in a canvass, weighted, a certain distance out.
  • Donate body to OHSU, survivors get cremates. No charge to estate.
  • Donate to Oregon Tissue Bank, survivors get the body back soon enough to have a service. No charge to estate.
  • Donate body to Biogift, and they sell all the parts, survivors get nothing.

Services: Official members of a church are usually entitled to services, but should expect to pay an honorarium to the presiding minister, musicians, altar servers, etc. Anyone can arrange a service at the Funeral Home and local ministers will oblige.

Wake: Can be arranged as desired, before or after the funeral.

Memorials: various photo layouts, videos, stream feed at time of service to distant relatives

Waud’s Funeral Parlour provides a list of 87 Things that must be done by the Survivor!




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