It’s Never too late to say "Thank-you",
Send flowers or a pajamagram
Take over soup or cookies
make time for lunch
give a hug.

It’s never to late to say, "I love you,"
step away from cell phones and Facebook
in some small non digital way acknowledge
see the people around you
and reflect back the joy a person’s presence has brought in your life.

It’s never too late to write that card that says
"Your forgiven, and since we are both fallible humans, please forgive me as well?"

Its never to late to say and do the little things
that are really the big things,
when we are finally alone at the end of life
and no longer care about
costumes or cookies.

It’s never too late to say "Thank-you,"

but sometimes
it is too late

for them to hear.

 Today I read a very interesting article which among other things explains why women tend to shop or eat when faced with crisis.

http://www.fi.edu/learn/brain/stress.html

What started this research was an article in my Oprah magazine on how to manage a spending diet. I have a tendency when anyone mentions a fact (such as how hormonal secretions effect behavior differently in men and women) that is way outside the particular writer’s field to verify it with my own research.   That way I am not propagating a myth if I repeat the fact. One of the ironies of this modern age of information is how easily facts can be checked and how rarely they are. But that is for another blog, another time. What I really wanted to talk about today was my favorite theme, doing small things to cope with the big things that are beyond our grasp.

I am a faithful NPR listener and NYTimes, BBC, and Christian Science Monitor (now all web available) reader. When I am interested in a story, either because of its effect on me and my immediate world or because of its impact on the global picture I am also part of, I try to get the story from more than one source; whether it’s "Truth" or a stool to sit upon, three supports are the minimum requirement for stability. I also check in at times on the other sources whose use of inflammatory rhetoric allows me the chance to practice my Ghandi techniques such as FoxNews, The Arizona Republic, etc. It is always good to know how those most unlike you in process also view the events. All this to say, that there comes a point when the enormity of the events I cannot change shuts me down and I find myself facing my own powerlessness.

How I respond to this is apparently decided by my female hormones. (Because we secrete "nurture" more than "flee" or "fight", especially postmenopausally. ) Usually when this happens I eat or shop. These days however as I work to practice the belief that what I change or do on small scale eddies out to the big scale, but otherwise its not in my control, I do neither acts of consumption.

What I did today? I hung my clothes on a drying rack instead of using my dryer. I will carpool with two friends to our social gathering tonight. I will buy my books, groceries and necessaries locally. I rinsed and placed my empty containers in the recycling bin that I will drive to the pick up point tomorrow, and I made a list of all the things I was grateful for, letting my little hunter, gatherer heart relish how well taken care of I truly am by this universe.

I cannot stop the insanity that is this worlds, and especially western culture’s, own auto-immune insanity, nor can I mitigate the effect of my own all consuming appetites by sinking into helplessness and depression.  The news today is sad and horrifying as the pot of human intolerance, heated by Peak Oil being now a reality instead of theory, boils over onto the masses in the middle east. In other news, natural disasters accumulate, and crime against the labor force, the working poor and thereby human rights is committed in the name of budget balancing by those who make more in a month than most make in a year.

Its that whole raising the level of the ocean by peeing in it story all over again, so today I will remember to focus on the fact that I can warm my little circle and focus on what I CAN do. To help me I am re-reading "Coming to Our Senses" by Jon-Kabat Zinn. I missed so much in it the first time.

Here is my question dear readers, what little things do you do, can you suggest, to help us average Janes be part of the solution as we all come to our senses?

You, my Friends 

Are the leaven in my bread
the cream in my coffee
 the salt on my rice

You raise my up when I have been pounded flat and lifeless by constant need
and make me stretch myself
only with with you, can I rise above the boundaries of  this clay container I am placed in
  
You lighten the blackness
Make smooth the bitter taste
Transforming to delicious awakening
the dark and unpalatable cup I would deign pass

You are the crystal and savory stimulation
That makes this most common and basic life, delicious. 

I am so lucky to have the friends I do,
i do not deserve you
But I am grateful for the gift

So I have come to my blog to prattle. Ego is an amusing thing, as are words.  Whenever I start wondering why i have chosen this small life of service over the other possibilities life offered something happens to remind me. This began innocently enough with me suggesting local over Barnes and Noble (now Borders is closing a large percentage of its store fronts). These were my comments to someone elses note.

"Better than Amazon, buy local! Anybody who does have a local "Mom and Pop" bookstore do something for literacy this week and buy yourself a book. One of James (if you don’t own them all already) would be nice, if not maybe something else intelligent like Jasper Fforde or Charles de Lint"

The conversation went on and later I added… 

"See, I would rather not own books than shop B&N. I am all about old fashioned stuff, like quality, community, loyalty, etc, hence my buy Local stumping. Like this real wise man we know says, "Never trade what you really want, for what you want now." or something like that so if I can, I buy first from the producer of the object (food, book, etc); then next local sources; and when (rarely) they can’t provide it I go national, has been Borders for decaded, never BN. I have a warm place in my heart for Borders and many friends who will be affected by these closures."

OK. I have many reasons for not liking Barnes and (Ig)Noble and none are personal, they have to do with the Corporate "profit over people" philosophy. If you don’t know how corrupt Barnes and Noble and Czar Riggio is, try entering a few search words in Google. Try "Barnes & Noble" with "lawsuit", then add "Ingram", "Nook", "One click", or "Retirement account". But I am not so much anti Barnes & Noble as I am pro local. And if you don’t know about that go here www.sustainabletable.org.

Then came this response (just excerpts cause his responsese are really long)

"I just "love" seeing folks prattle on about B&N and how they’re just not as community oriented, loyal, or concerned with quality, etc as store X and how they’d rather never read anything ever again than shop at B&N"…….*then a full really long paragraph about writer’s knowledge, prowess  and unselfish hard work at B&N*…….then said writer continues with an attitude which seems way out of sinc with aforementioned  dedication to customer service and not at all related to anything I thought I said  "You’re right. We B&N folk are the crap of the earth.Of course over those 10 years I’ve seen more than a few customers who think they’re better than everyone else; even better than the other customer waiting in line. And of course they are deserving of the treatment bestowed upon kings of old, and if they don’t get it, well, it’s hissy fit time……." 

So I apologized for hurting his feelings. Even though I still believe that a store that advertises price, price , price is not focusing on quality. I, for one like my McSweeneys, and my small press artist comics and chapbook poetry and unabridged classics. As for community and loyalty, at my local bookstore they remember my name, they point out new stuff in my own special areas of geekiness, and they all care about the local economy right down to the owner because they are part of this community, not multimillionaires living many states away. I totally believe good customer service can happen at any size store….its just this other stuff that can’t.

‎"@Steve I am sorry if you were personally offended by my stumping for buying local. My argument with Barnes and (Ig)Noble is purely with their corporate philosophy. I am certain that just like WalMart they have hundreds of incredibly amazing employees. I shall now prattle on somewhere else. LOL (But for the record if you reread my posts and then yours, you are the only one attacking people, just for the record.)"

He responded with a much longer rant (of which Glen Beck would be proud) in which he himself admits to not feeling supported by corporate or even his own management, but concludes from all this that my stumping for local values is a slap to good book sellers everywhere. I think this rates right up there with the giant goose step stride of many recent political debates, and I quote again.

"But when you make comments about those old fashioned ideals you threw out there, you take a pot shot at every one of us who report for work every day and who bust our humps, sometimes without the proper support from corporate, and in some cases without even the proper support from our own management staffs, to put that book in the customer’s hand and provide the service they would expect that would get them to come back." 

And that Virginia is why I prefer to hide away and just use my heart to provide palliative nursing care. At least when my patients are hysterical, angry and illogical it is actually about life and death matters not just bruised ego. And I applaud all the authors ( Owen, Scalzi, Wheaton, Gaiman) who not only still write professionally, but also blog and fearlessly put words an ideas out into these ignorance invaded waters. Y’all rock. I, on the other hand am a chicken. It may look like passive resistance, but I haven’t gone all Ghandi, I am just too flumoxed by all the ego and rage flamed around in the blogosphere to even speak.

Why, back in my day, of mimeographed sheets and manual typewriters….

anyway that’s the funny thing that happened to me on the way to this forum…I was just fiddling around, and went down in flames. So now I will roam off and get some sleep.

“I asked God for strength that I might achieve. I was made weak that I might learn humbly to obey. I asked for health that I might do greater things. I was given infirmity that I might do better things. I asked for riches that I might be happy. I was given poverty that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the praise of men. I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given life that I might enjoy all things. I got nothing that I asked for, but everything I hoped for. Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered. I am, among all men, most richly blessed.”

Jackie Morse Kessler has a new series. Book one "Hunger" is out and book two "Rage" is due to hit in April. Basic premise is that adolescents are recruited to be the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. (Anyone who has been or raised a teenager will not have any difficulty with the premise)

Now this is NOT the first time someone has drawn the parallel between the Horseman of Famine and anorexia, nor the first time this horseman and modern gluttony have found them selves co-stars, But it is the first time I thought of her as a hero and the story is told in a unique and thoroughly enthralling voice. Read the author before and thought her a good writer and wished she would write something I wanted to read. I have less appetite for junk food in any form than many, she must have heard my wish.

 I am amused by the things I save and the things I throw away.  Let me say others habits of retention and disposal are also amusing, usually, and both are anthropologically meaningful.

I have a friend whose house is the most wonderful treasure trove of stuff, dragons, Harry Potter, Happy Bunny, just to name some main themes but all really collectible cool stuff. Your eyes and your mind are never still in her living room if any curiosity drives you. There is a gentle, sometimes droll, may I say geek humor to the decor of this home. Do not mistake, she is not messy or a hoarder, her house does not jangle the nerves or make you afraid to sit on the toilet, her home instead is just bursting with stuff, cool stuff. The owner of this home is like her house, with many hobbies and many friends. People are not thrown away easily. Even if a friend’s behavior doesn’t go with her inner decor, or the patterns of her other friends, they can still be all beautifully kept in her life.  This friend is one of the most gentle and loyal people I know, and fun. I can always count on some true deep down laughs when I hang out with this woman and delicious, unconventional foods.

I have another friend in our circle whose home is pristine, always. She inspires us all to new heights of order. The woods of her furniture and the books on her shelves and the few complimentary frames of family photos all correspond and unify the rooms perspective. I walk through her door into a Good Housekeeping centerfold.  Do not mistake this home for cold or unwelcoming. Its’s heart is warm and if one sits a bit on the cozy couch or takes the time to read the titles of the books perhaps look closely at the pictures a Zen like joy infects one.  My friend is like her home, disciplined, structured and yet tenderhearted. I love visiting this home, I know that there I will always safe and amused and have a luscious, well–balanced lunch.

This makes me wonder what my home says about me. My first thought as I turned my mind that way was "temporary". I have always been a nomad. Each home had  a different flavor significant to the place I was at in my life and the person I was space sharing with at the time and nothing lasted for any length of time. Every time I thought I was home, I wasn’t.  I thought this part of my life I would be living alone  if alive at all and had moved in that direction. I had just begun to attempt "staying" at the apartment and then this house and a roommate happened. I want to believe this home is permanent. I want to make this my home. 

Interestingly to what our homes say about "us", I discovered this week in a digital world we all play in, our virtual homes were strikingly like our real time homes. My virtual home is a gathering of  grouped things I like, its decor doesn’t flow and there is a lot of stuff stashed in my virtual closets because once I start a theme I am loathe to change it even when a new theme entrances me. So I am in process of cleaning my virtual house and redecorating.

I am doing that in my real world home as well, just slower. Today I pulled one handful of saved magazines from my shelf to excavate what articles I would keep, what I would cut for collages, and what would go in recycling. I kept the Backwoods Magazine from May/June 2010, but the First and the Bark are collage fodder. I moved on further down the shelf. Then I got distracted.

I reread the entire New York Times Magazine from April 4, 2010 again this morning and I am still keeping it, all of it. I was hoping to find a few pictures or one article that had relegated it to my save shelf, but all the articles spoke to me from the one about albatross behavior as a source of controversy to the one about Vishniacs body of work being redefined by all the art he never published. So, I will keep it. I have however compiled a small stack of hardback and tradepaper back books that were keepers when I moved here 3 months ago that now are less necessary to my sense of well being. They have lost my respect and their sense of meaning to my new direction.

Which leads to where my last journal entry went. I wrote that entry early in the morning and then had to post hurriedly and go to work. I didn’t get to edit it first. I went back to reread it last night and it did not convey what I wanted. I tried unsuccessfully to edit it, then in a fit of frustration I deleted it. I kind of regret that this morning and may try again to rewrite the thought later but probably not.

The main point of the whole thing was that at a time when I thought I was garbage and I heard everyone else telling me I was garbage, someone (my foster parents Ed and Connie) treated me with love and respect. They did not say unacceptable behavior was acceptable and my choices had dire consequences. Because they loved and respected me I began to respect myself. It is a slow process turning garbage beliefs and garbage behavior into productive soil. Like composting.

I currently work for a woman, she says I should call her Queen Victoria in my blogs, who reminds me a lot of Connie. I am grateful and happy to go two days a week to care for her children that need a nurse and feel all the love in this noisy yet very well ordered composite family. I respect her.

And thanks to someone like her, today I respect me. That was the point. That, and how an episode of Angel made the whole thing coalesce.  I can never pay back the little things and miracles that have kept me not only alive but with a living heart and soul but I can pay them forward.

I hope someday that is what my home says about me; that I respect myself and I respect others. I want my home to be interesting and yet disciplined. I want it to show I know how to laugh and I value life in all its forms, that I love good food and drink, that I have more truck with Dharma  than Dogma, but mostly I want it to say that I respect you and I respect me.

Making Me Tea

       Dog barking. Jet roar.
 Hot tub whispers white steam breath
            Steeped inner silence.

"Peace is not merely a distant goal we seek but a means by which we arrive at the goal." Martin Luther King

From the One Spirit which is the source of all
To North and earth and roots and salty mineral, all bone and flesh
To East and sun’s fire and the sap and blood in all veins
To South and air and warm breath and spoken words and the double edged sword of truth
To West and water, the dreams of sleep and the faith of opened eyes
Which bring us again to the One Spirit to which we all return.
                                                                                                         CC
"Grant O Spirit thy protection
And in protection, strength;
And in strength, understanding;
And in understanding, knowledge;
And in knowledge, the knowledge of justice;
And in the knowledge of justice, compassion;
And in compassion, the love of all existences;
And in the love of all existences, the love of Earth, Our Mother, and ALL goodness."  Traditional NeoDruid Prayer

Peace
Ecology
Abundance
Courage through integrity
Emotional equilibrium, balance, joy

Love to all, especially those I perceive as having harmed me
Others first
Vocation, whatever is required today, May I serve always with love.
Enlightenment. (or for those who prefer  a different path of light than mine insert here "atonEment")

Blessed Be. (or again for those who prefer  "Amen")

 I have to echo a certain Storyteller whose posting of his take on the statement. "Truths are simple" created a very long object lesson of the statements simple truth.

It is all the things we do to truth; inverted reasoning, pretzel bend extrapolations and flourished arguments that muddies clear water. It is what we do to truth to make it fit our pet belief systems or support our opinions and actions that complicates and obfuscates it.

It made me giggle. I like irony. 

Even when I am myself unintentionally ironic, I find it funny.

However, its easier to see the funny when its someone else.