I don't "tire" easily

I don't "tire" easily -- which will be far more meaningful in a moment. Yet, while this is true, I have run into a certain situation far too many times in the past 20-plus years and decided today it won't happen again.

I am not a helpless female ... most of the time! But I am completely comfortable with knowing (and understanding) my own limitations.

Now, here is where the fine line presents itself. Who do you call when you have stumbled into a situation where those limitations create obstacles to solving a problem on your own? I am curious ... what is your answer?

There is no fine line. If you are married, then you call your spouse. A marriage is a partnership, good and bad, sickness and health, blah blah blah. And when your wife calls you up and tells you that the car has a flat tire and that since her back is out she is unable to bend down to see where the jack would go, much less use the jack, and the 12-year-old son can help, certainly, but since YOUR BACK IS OUT and you can't do anything, essentially leaving the entire situation in the hands of a 12-year-old ... the last thing you want to hear is ...

"I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do, I was just walking out the door to a meeting."

I see.

No, I don't have Triple AAA -- at least, I don't right now. Tomorrow I will. This is a service set up specifically to help those who can't help themselves when their cars break down. Why don't I have it? I used to, when I was single and knew that if I broke down I wouldn't have any help. The thing is, I'm still in that situation. I just keep forgetting that.

I hate being helpless. I am strong and probably if I'd been feeling 100 percent I might have gotten the stupid tire off the car. But then again, probably not. After a half an hour of trying to get the spare tire down from its super Spiderman hidey spot under the car (done by putting the jack into a special hole and turning it until it falls to the ground ... all secret information that men seem to know, but to me it looked like the tire was super-glued to the bottom of the car) Charlie attempted to get the (lug nuts, are they lug nuts or am I making that up?) off of the tire with the jack. But he couldn't budge them. My sister couldn't budge them. I leaned down and gave it a tug, and sure, I felt it in my back. Oh, and I didn't budge them.

Goddamnit. Well, let's see. One half hour spent proving that we couldn't do it. Excellent.

The world has changed so much, everyone is supposed to be self-sufficient if they don't have a Plan B (like an accomodating husband or Triple A). So if you have a flat tire and you can't change it, what do you do? Go to a garage and see if they can help? What is a garage exactly? They don't really exist anymore -- they are "on the run" centers that are all about do-it-yourself and staffed by teenagers. Get help there? Not likely.

My sister suggested calling a cop. Really? Seems to me if you can't get help from your husband it's unlikely that a person trained to stop you for speeding would be interested in getting down and dirty and changing a tire.

And despite the fact that we were in a Park and Ride, all the doors were open on the car, there was a spare on the ground, a jack and two women and two children standing around, the men that did drive by us were clearly of the mindset of "I don't need this," and pretended not to see us. In fact, combined with getting no help from my husband AND the general public, I was once again reminded that you really are alone.

I honestly don't know why I am always so surprised. I guess because it's so sad.

So what happened?

First Peter tried to talk Charlie through it (that was the wasted half hour) and then he ended up calling one of his employees off of a job to come help us. It was stressed to me later that he did this -- that he PULLED one of his employees off of a job to come help me.

I see.

I explained to him that if he had called me and said he was stranded (this actually happened -- he called me and said he was stranded, had run out of gas) and I had said bummer, deal with it, how would that have felt?

(What I did do was jump into my car with a gas tank and rushed to help him. Go figure).

He responded by saying that I need to be more self-reliant ... and then the comment that he PULLED an employee off the job. And what was he supposed to do? Call the people he was having the meeting with and tell them he couldn't make it?

Well, ummm, let me think about it. YEAH. It's not like I am a habitual bad-backed flat-tire getter. For crying out loud.

I don't really know why I even call him, since his reaction -- so totally selfish and disgusting -- makes me question why I would even want to be married to him.

Right now I don't want to be. I am on high-alert, trying to figure out the steps I need to take to be "self-reliant." I spent several hours walking around a parking lot (to kill the time between discovering I had a flat tire until it was actually fixed) with my sister recounting all the times I've had situations where I needed help and didn't get any. In some cases I figured it out on my own, and in others, like SUV's with flat tires, I waited for others to help me.

(Tim, the employee who was pulled off the job in order to assist the helpless female, had to stand on the jack and bounce to loosen the bolts, and then in order to get the tire OFF of the car, had to go get a huge jack from his truck to smack it with.) Bottom line: Even without a bad back I wouldn't have been physically able to change that tire.

Did I know this? YES!

If you can't change a tire on a vehicle you drive, should you even be driving it? Well, if the radiator blew out, I wouldn't be expected to fix that, would I? (Well, probably.)

So that's my sad tale and I am tired of it. I need to have someone that I can call when I am in a situation where I need help, assistance ... fricking help! So if it has to be an organization that I pay a yearly fee to, then so be it.

Feeling helpless -- it's not my thing.

Popeye loved spinach

Today both Maddie and Charlie were home -- he is on vacation this week and Maddie had today off. I woke up to them fighting -- screaming and yelling. I woke up yelling at them to be quiet.

Lovely.

Since it was raining out, Charlie didn't spend much time outside, and neither did the dogs. They spent a lot of time rolling around on the floor together, or Charlie was showing Lucy how to run and jump on the couch. STOP I yelled for the millionth time. You don't teach puppies how to jump on furniture ... do I REALLY have to explain this?

Then I took Maddie shopping for a dress for her formal next weekend. I would rather pull out my fingernails than shop with Maddie -- she hates everything, thinks that all material is wrong, the looks are wrong and gets in a bad mood about 12 minutes after we've entered a store -- despite promising me that she will NOT get like this.

Today the shop owner even remembered that Maddie hated everything -- including advice -- and we just kept rolling our eyes or shaking our heads whenever Maddie dissed whatever I would give her to try on. She put on a skirt and a shirt that were perfect -- very nice. But she said the shirt made her look like an old person. An old person? Now granted, I won't even take her to the stores where they feature slut-wear, which is what the majority of the girls wear, but she isn't interested in that look either. But old people? Is she referring to me?

Harumph.

So we bought the skirt and left the perfect matching shirt hanging on the rack, and she put together what she thought was the perfect ensemble. A blue button-down shirt that a librarian might wear. Whatever. If she feels comfortable and thinks she doesn't look like an old person -- then so be it. The point is, it's not fun, it's torture. For both of us.

We returned home and Maddie and Charlie resumed fighting. I had given them rooms to clean, and of course one of them was always doing more than the other ... "I vacuumed the entire house and you did nothing ..."

Charlie and I are headed to Boston for the next few days then I leave for Chicago on Friday, so as I was looking at the food in the fridge I realized that I needed to use up some of the perishables or they would perish in my absence. Normally I put spinach in salads, but I wasn't in the mood for salad -- so I did something I never do -- I steamed the spinach.

Well.

Since the spinach was the only green being served with the chicken and rice -- it was mandatory that both Maddie and Charlie ate it. They always eat whatever I serve, but for some reason this spinach disgusted them. Too bad.

I told them they had to go to their rooms for the rest of the night if they didn't eat it. They actually looked at the clock and tried to figure out how many hours they would have to kill.

EAT IT.

Well, what ensued was madness. First Maddie took a bite and spit it back on her plate. Then negotiations began and it was determined that they would only have to eat half of the spinach on their plates. They of course then argued about what half is. And naturally Charlie's half was smaller than Maddie's half.

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

Then Peter told Charlie that if he drank something, it would go down easier. This was after Charlie had run to the bathroom to supposedly throw up.

I wasn't impressed.

Then Maddie reminded me of her Survivor birthday party where I had served spinach as a gross food that they had to eat.

I said that was different, it had been cold.

She said hers was now cold.

Well, mine had been hot and it was delish. I told her the microwave was open. So she had the great idea of putting some spinach on a piece of banana. Amazingly enough this didn't work and she ran to the bathroom.

I felt like I had been transported back in time and was dealing with two little brats instead of two teenagers!

It's SPINACH I cried. Not arsenic. (Th0ugh that is tasteless and they would probably consume that happily.) Just goes to show what kids know.

My days have expansive amounts of time with no children around.

I love them.

Summer is coming.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH

Worry wart

There is no doubt that genes play a pretty big role in the drama that is your life -- that's just a fact --and yet, can they be combatted?

If you have alcoholism in your genes -- can you actively not drink and avoid such a fate?

Is there any way to put the kabosh on going bald?

If brittle bones run in your family, if you ingest huge amounts of calcium can you avoid them?

And if you had a grandfather and father that were (are) huge worry warts, does that mean if you suddenly find yourself in a big pond of worry, that maybe you are doomed?

My grandfather worried about fire. After a barbeque, he would take the charcoal and spread it on the lawn and then he would hose it down, a big, black steaming mess. Then he would rake that out, and then hose it down again -- no longer steaming, just muddy blech.

"What are you doing, Grandpa?"

"One little spark and the whole house could go up in flames," he responded.

So after we were put in bed, even after I'd seen him shovel up the black gook and put it in a metal trash can, I would lay there and make sure there was no rogue and crazy spark waiting to flame the moment I closed my eyes. (This was after he explained that he had locked up the lion in the closet and fed it too, so it probably wouldn't come out while we were sleeping.) Yeah, he was a character.

My father likes to worry too -- and after years of working for him and waiting for the company to go belly up per his dire predictions, one day I just decided that worrying didn't really get you anywhere, and in truth, probably due to the focus, made things happen that didn't have to. (My grandfather's house actually did have a fire, though it was due to a tenant's cigarette).

So what happened? Where is the fine line between worry and being proactive? (Probably somewhere between hosing down the coals or just keeping an eye on dying ones!) The talk of food shortages here in the U.S. really freaked me out, I must admit. For all the doom and gloom is supposed to be in the future -- not like, soon!

Things that I've read about that would be symptoms of a changing world are starting to happen and I am like hyperventilating! Either I know too much or I am overreacting -- and perhaps taking out the hose and aiming it on a potential disaster would be comforting.

But as of now I am stopping -- finite! Done! I am coiling up the hose (it's also environmentally conscious not to use water needlessly!) and removing the worry wart, splicing the worry gene, and beginning a worry free existence.

I didn't even KNOW I was a worrier.
Until I realized I was worrying.

Hey, look on the bright side -- I'm not a balding, brittle-boned raging alcoholic.

Yet.

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Back attack and attacking back (with kindness)

Last week while hiking in the woods on a snowy trail, I was slipping down this slope, thinking to myself how in control I was, when the next thing I knew my right leg had sunk into the snow well past my knee and my entire body smashed into the ground.  

I lay there, a bit stunned, and thought to myself, that couldn't have been good.  But I got up, and while my back felt a little tweaked, all seemed fine and that was that.

A few days later my back didn't feel "just right," so I slowed down a little, didn't hike as much, and within days felt like my normal self.

Two days ago in the shower I was humming along, shaving my legs, when all of a sudden I realized I couldn't stand back up.  My back was totally frozen.  I just thought  SHIT.  Then I moved a little and thought OH *()#_$*()#_*$( SHIT.

I remained in place and let the water beat against me and thought to myself that everything would be fine.  When I straightened up completely, pain shot down my right leg.  I winced, pretended that didn't really happen and rinsed the conditioner out of my hair.

Since then, it's been kind of denial versus desire.  I desire to be my regular self, able to do anything, and when I stand up and can't quite straighten at first, I brush it off as being "stiff."  But I haven't hiked since and am afraid to!  What if I freeze up in the woods!  That would be something.

The one place I can't be is in my desk chair.  Which is where I am now and I can feel it.  But I'll suffer through for the cause of the blog -- I just want to make that clear is all -- that I am suffering.

Haha.  While I can pinpoint exactly what happened and when -- a part of me still wonders if the back pain is symbolic of all the things I have been "piling" on myself.  I was just at a softball game and was very aware ... just being in the moment, observing.

First off, everyone there was eating junk food!  And I thought ... you are nuts.  YOU used to eat junk food too -- once upon a time I think you even drank soda (say it isn't so!)  But it is true, I'd go to the corner store before school and buy a package of cigarettes and a Tab.  Because that was what the cool people did, and well, I am sure it is no surprise to you that I was the cooooool-est!  (ha ha again).  Well, no, I was.

Really.

I loved Tab.  I can taste it right now, feel that little tickle it gave me in the back of the throat.  And I can remember the day I came home from the hospital after having Maddie and my mother gave me a Fresca.  Oooooooh.  I then equated Fresca and love for quite some time.  Until of course I realized that Fresca was just poison in a can like the rest of its cohorts.  So sad.

Anyway ... so while everyone was poisoning themselves with soda at the game, I was not judging them, but wondering why I am so psycho!  I mean, when did it get to the point I wouldn't even pour it down my throat?   Then ... there were people sitting in chairs in front of me, behind home plate -- behind the fence.  I placed my chair so that while I was behind them, I was looking through an open spot.  First this man comes along, glances at me, then proceeds to stand right in front of me and talk to his people.  Finally his wife turned, saw he was totally blocking me, and told him to move.  Which he did, but grudgingly.

Later he came back, picked up the chair that they had opened for him and placed it in the open spot, directly in front of me.  He actually turned and looked at me, as though to say "yes, I see you and I realize I am going to completely block you, but I am going to anyway."

Which he did.  I knew he was going to do it, it was no surprise ... I mean, he STOOD in front of me earlier.  So I sat and judged him for a bit, then got over myself and moved my chair way to the left, to another open spot.  He actually had the gall to turn around to see if I had moved!

Putz.  Ooops, I mean man who sat in front of me, oh well.

There was an older couple in front of me now, and I was looking through the empty spot between them.  This went on for a few innings, when the woman turned, LOOKED AT ME, and then moved her chair closer to her husband, so she was blocking me.

At this point I looked into the sky and inquired openly of the universe.  WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME HERE?

I moved my chair back to the right to partake of the open space she had left behind, and really wondered, what is going on?

Well, global warming, the end of petroleum, food shortages, cancer everywhere and tainted food for starters.  AND RUDE people!  Gosh.  

But here's the thing -- my goal was to, starting today, do one really nice thing to and or for someone else every single day -- my good karma gesture if you will.  Random Acts of Kindness.  And also ... to tackle only one world calamity at a time, because I think it's giving me back pain, I really do.

So I have this book called Random Acts of Kindness, and I opened it up, randomly, and here are the two things that were on the two pages before me:

"Our lives are fed by kind words and gracious behavior.  We are nourished by expressions like `excuse me' and other such simple courtesies ... Rudeness, the absence of the sacrament of consideration, is but another mark that our time-is-money society is lacking in spirituality, if not also in its enjoyment of life."  -- Ed Hays.

"We who lived in concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread.  They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken away from a man but one thing:  the last of the human freedoms -- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."  --Viktor Frankl

I have to say, my hair stood on end when I read both of these -- as they spoke to me, the answer to the question I put out to the universe.

Those people today were just symptoms of the disease which has affected us as a society.  And I can choose to let them affect me (and I really didn't) or I can figure out how to help them (if that is even possible).  My first reaction was to put my chair in front of the guy and say, yeah, I see you.  That is the reactionary response.  But I just moved.  And truly, I didn't really dwell until the woman did it to me!  Then I was like, HELLO.  So, should I have said something like, "Yes, you are going to block me, but you know what?  I'm okay with that, how are you today?  Isn't it beautiful out?"

Nah, there is no way I could pull that off without sounding sarcastic!  Or insincere or disingenuous. Because right now I want to smack the guy.  Upside the head, stupid ...

Anyway.  :::::::::::::::Deep breath:::::::::::::::::::::::::

The whole Holocaust thing -- it's not really fair for me to judge those people and believe that they could have done something for themselves, because I wasn't there and no one was holding a gun to my head.  But when I read that passage I realized ... in any situation people's ultimate characters will shine through -- despite what is going on, and there will always be people who are affected by those actions, positive or negative.

And so I would like to do my part to erase pain in the world (starting with my back) and begin a practice of daily random acts of kindness.  And you know, I thought the book was going to give me specific instructions.  But it did not -- gosh, is nothing ever easy?  (I am kidding here!)

For random acts of kindness to flourish we need to begin in the hardest of all places, our own hearts.  To reap a bountiful harvest of random acts of kindness, we need to begin by simple acts of kindness towards ourselves (I'm in with this!!!).  Then we can truly give from overflow, from a heart brimming with loving kindness.

Yeah, yeah, makes sense.

Now what?

The Silent Tsunami

Now here's one I hadn't even put into my worry tank:  Food shortages.   The above headline is taken from Economist.com because that tsunami really freaked people out -- but unless a wall of water decimates something in minutes ... we don't seem to notice it at all.

Good heavens.  It's all linked to oil -- now all the food is being diverted to the biofuels "industry" so now we can't eat it, we drive it.  I read (and now I am not saying it is true, just what I read) that ONE tankful of ethanol in an SUV is the equivalent of an African's maize supply for a year.  Considering that they are starving over there, it might not be a meaningful statement.  But still.  Does ANYONE ANYONE ANYONE in this pathetic body of "leaders" we have ever put two and two together?  

Or have they. And two plus two plus two plus two plus two (to infinity and beyond) makes a lot of money.

And haven't I heard that ethanol is horrible for engines?

Do I honestly have time to research an upcoming food shortage/crisis?  I guess, to be honest, I have been thinking about it, because of my belief that the food is poison.  I would be more than happy to live on whatever I could find locally -- in fact, it would be a great incentive to do so if supermarkets were no longer stocked with ... food!  But the world is not comprised of just me (really, I do know that) and while I'm not big on listening to the media, the word shortage always puts me on high alert.

According to a United Nations report, there has been a 60 percent increase in the price of corn and feedstock over the past two years -- which can be directly traced to the increased demand on corn and soybeans made by the biofuels industry.  The U.S. has diverted millions of pounds of corn and soybean crops to the industry, creating a market that makes fuel crops more profitable than food crops.  (Hey, hey, we're the Red White and Blue, give us a reason so we can screw you.)

Because of the competition between the agriculture and the new biofuels industries, costs have been driven up by double digits, generating food riots around the world.  

Rice farmers in Thailand are staying awake in shifts at night to guard their fields from thieves.  In Peru, shortages of wheat flour are prompting the military to make bread with potato flour, a native crop.

The U.S. produces 45% of the world biofuels (Brazil is a close second at 42%).  As a world leader in food exports, grain in particular, the U.S. has altered world grain markets by diverting grain into fuel production -- creating a shortage, generating price increases and making food staples too expensive for much of the world's poor to afford.

FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.

So far, Americans are mostly bystanders in this game, content to grumble at the gas pump and complain in the grocery aisles.  But ... like the rest of our woes, this situation is not sustainable, and according to a lot of what I've been reading, we are a lot more vulnerable than we think.

Living in the "breadbasket of the world" makes it hard to imagine that food could ever become scarce in this country.  But food security has been pushed aside by the War On TERROR, and continues to lag behind our awareness, despite their being linked together.  

Remember the "freegans?"  We throw out SO much food as a country.   How many farmers have been paid over the decades to NOT farm?  NOT milk their cows?  The government has always kept a steady hand in controlling our food sources and it's really not a big surprise they're screwing it up.

The surge in food prices has ended 30 years in which food was cheap (and crap) farming was subsidized in rich countries and international food markets were wildly distorted.  

So now, the era of cheap food is over.  For me personally, it's been over for a long time.  (Just ask my husband about our astronomical food bills!)  But as I've told him time and again -- we may be paying a lot for healthy food, but we're not paying a penny on healthcare bills or medicines to keep us "healthy."

It's just a sign of the times ... those times being a world in major crisis already with most people in denial (myself included, though I try not to be.)  And maybe it's not so much denial as just not realizing what is going on.  

Really, all of the issues we have laying on the table today are a direct result of corporate greed and a government comprised of corporate greedsters.  What would seem so simple as if more food needs to be grown, then the farmers should grow it.  But ... Monsanto -- the producer of genetically modified seeds has infiltrated the industry and plundered it with lawsuits and "seed police."

There is really only one bottom line -- one I've known for some time.  We need to feed ourselves.  We need to find a way to provide our families with pure, healthy food and it's really the opposite of what America has become today:  Which is addicted to convenience so we can do more ... more whatever, but NOT cooking and shopping.  Which are no fun, I am with you there, but it's necessary.

And you have to even be leery of food you buy at health food markets that have been purchased by corporations and marked organic.  Because I bit into a piece of "organic" celery the other day and it was disgusting.  If you want to know what pesticides taste like, then eat organic for a few years, for when you bite into a clearly non-organic vegetable it is awful.

I was on a big boat in Greece, going from Mykonos to Santorini.  The seas were rough and so my friend Leslie and I decided to sit out in the seats on the bow of the boat to get the fresh air.  It was cold and we were huddled up next to each other, the sea spray all around us, when all of a sudden I looked up and saw a wave coming over the front of the boat.  It was a wall of water, probably 20 feet above us, and it was coming.  I remember holding up my hand as though I could stop it, and then seeing Leslie's face as it registered what I was doing.

And then it hit us.  Cold, cold, cold, hard, brutally hard, a slap to the face, an insult to our persons, leaving us cold, wet and bedraggled.

The silent tsunami.

Good Morning!

You know.  Despite the fact that it's going to hell in a handbasket ... the earth is really an amazing, amazing thing.

Two days ago my front yard had snow on it.  Today it is green.  

Just think of the toxins we must be putting into the soul of this big ball of amazing to hurt it when it possesses the power to grow like magic.

It is hard to think of the end of days when this particular day starts with such promise.  The sun is shining, the birds are bustling about and chattering, buds are popping up out of the ground and there is a slight breeze pushing fresh air into my office.  All I feel is a state of calm, as though all the activity happened when I wasn't looking -- the grass turned green!  The buds popped out on the trees!  You can almost sense them giggling ... haha, got her!

It's so easy to see why it's easy to forget.

But then again, it's not such a bad thing ... to be.

I am so baaaaaaaaaaa-d and I don't know what to do!

Getting Hitler?

What is up with that?

I know I've blogged this before, but I often hear in my head "survival of the fittest."  I should also point out that when I use the phrase "often hear in my head," I don't mean voices!  It will just pop into my head at certain times, and has for a long time.

The picture that then follows is a tiger chasing a herd of sheep, and which sheep is dinner?  This is a basic law of nature, sure, but for whatever reason, there are the strong sheep, and there are the dinner sheep.  (I suppose I shouldn't always pick on the poor sheep!)

  Yeah, Lisa, you are so baaaaaaaaaaaaa-d

There are always going to be people who feel they are superior to others.  And until they read Eckhart Tolle's book A New Earth, release themselves from the plague of their egos and accept that we are all one, there will always be Hitler's, George Bush's and whatever else that ails the world.  It's the fact that these thoughts run through my mind that are just as horrid as the mad men that frightens me.  

Food kills -- and while I don't yet have the bumper sticker, I am pretty secure in the knowledge that this is so.  And when I am in the supermarket and I look into the carts of people and see the piles of processed junk, and see the way their kid is acting and know that they will try to placate that child with something laden with white sugar and chemicals ... I think to myself ... (should I even admit this?  Probably not, but I've never been very good at self-regulating!) I think to myself ... survival of the fittest.  If cancer doesn't get them, then whatever plague comes down the pike eventually will.  Their immune systems are compromised on a daily basis and they are petrie dishes for allergies, auto-immune disorders and other alphabet soup ailments.

And I know if I said to them, "you know, those Pop Tarts are filled with so much garbage you wouldn't actually feed it to your least favorite pet if you had any idea of what it will do to you eventually," they would give me the finger and tell me to mind my own business.

And I'm not saying I wouldn't do the same thing if someone told me that the green produce and organic fruit I purchase has been secretly sprayed with a deadly toxin that will kill me in five years.  We believe what we believe, whether it's based on fact, fiction or just habit.

So I'm a mad man (let's pretend!) and I realize that these stupid fools are utilizing gasoline that is precious and finite and it's just a stupid waste, so I put an ad in the paper promising free pop tarts to the first thousand customers, and watch as they line up.  To get the super-toxic pop tarts fresh from the lab.  So they die.  In fact, I've done them a favor -- they were inferior.  They ate pop tarts.  And when I offer the free pop tarts to the next thousand people, they know that the original pop tart eaters all died.  But not from the pop tarts.  Who dies eating pop tarts?  Right?

Which would then make me think ... NONE of these people, who will eat free pop tarts, deserve to live!  They are clearly too stupid.  Those who don't eat pop tarts are therefore superior.  And they don't seem all that upset that the pop tart eaters keep lining up for free pop tarts.  Because when they tell the people that the pop tarts will kill them, the people tell them they don't care, because they are free.  And pop tarts.

Now I don't know if there is a secret sect of the government that is planning on a certain percentage of society to die off based on their nefarious plot of poisoned food, drugs and a sterilization program cloaked in a soon-to-be mandatory cancer-prevention vaccine (is that not just beautiful ... cause cancer to become rampant, breed fear, and then pretend you are going to make them all better.)  But it's possible they don't even need one.  Nor do they need cattle cars.

Were people walking into gas chambers thinking that they were entering Utopia?  Why would six thousand people at a time stand naked in a courtyard waiting for "disinfection" without trying to kill the guards?   How many people stood in windows and stared down at these people and wondered the same thing?  Why do they just stand there, waiting to die?

Why?  

Because it's easier?  Because they didn't believe that they were going to die?  Even animals at slaughterhouses know when they are going to die -- they can smell it in the air.  Did millions and millions and millions of people just give up?  Did they feel that they should die?

I JUST DON'T GET IT.  And yet I do.  And then I don't.  But I suppose I do.  I mean, it's scary, but I truly believe that the only thing that would save the second round of pop tart eaters are the lawyers.   

Some Jews hid during the Holocaust.  Some people ran away.  No one believed it would get as bad as it did.   I guess that's what we're doing now, with Global Warming.  Some of us are hiding, building bunkers in the ground and stocking them with canned goods and water.  Some of us are running away, or trying to stop it by recycling and doing whatever we can do stanch the potential flood.  But I would bet the majority of us just don't believe it will get THAT bad.  There are people who know for sure ... and some of them even tell us.  But we don't listen.  How can we?

They wouldn't gas millions of people, would they?

Of course not.

Our government is there to protect us.

They wouldn't poison our food?

Of course not.

There is the FDA!  

Well, if the government is sterilizing people, they MUST have a good reason.

Right?

The same things that allowed government and industry to cover up the causes of cancer through the decades are the very same things that allow the government to suppress all the information and facts we have now about the damage to our planet. (And I'm sure it will be blogged about (or the equivalent of blogging) a hundred years from now by an evolved life form who will ask the ether ... )

WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?

Their polar ice caps were melting!

Did the people not notice strange weather patterns?

Did they not notice how sick everyone was from eating tainted food?

Did they not wonder why drugs made them sicker?

They just paid $100 a gallon for gasoline without complaining?

Why didn't they DEMAND that there be an alternative to a petroleum-based economy?

WHAT WAS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?

I don't know, future evolved one.

I screamed, I yelled, I banged my head against the wall.  I thought about hiding, stock-piling canned goods and fresh water, even burying big tanks and stocking up with cheaper gasoline.

And then I blogged.

It was all I could do.

And of course it wasn't enough.

I was baaaaaaaaaaaa-d.

What the Heil?

(Disclaimer:  This is very disjointed ... but I am letting it stand anyway!   I just figure what the Heil, Hitler.)

  

I didn't want to -- read the book The Secret History of the War on Cancer: Devra Davis  but I couldn't help myself.  It jumped into my hands and so I read a few chapters.  It's about all I can take though, before that totally overwhelming feeling overtakes me and I have to close the book and process.

I am no longer shocked or horrified to read things like many of the basic causes of cancer were identified hundreds of years ago.  Mining, painting, smelting, forging, distilling, curing, smoking, grinding and cleaning were portrayed in literature and excellent medical accounts -- some dating from the Middle Ages -- as risky enterprises.

In 1936 more than 200 of the world's top cancer scientists convened in Brussells to attend the Second International Congress of Scientific and Social Campaign Against Cancer.  Here, the best minds available came together with no government or industrial secrets to keep.

They had no secrets to keep, but the government and industry was not going to lay down and let this fantastic information come into the light.  It is a little disconcerting to wonder, if you have lost anyone to cancer, that they might still be here if the things that these eminent men and women of science knew about the causes of cancer in 1936 had entered mainstream medical practice.

In 1556 a geologist and physician named Georgious Agricola spent years preparing De Re Metallica -- a massive report on mining that included detailed information on the ailments of miners.   Please note that date again, it was 1556 -- and Agricola stated that those who entered the mines, if they did not perish in gruesome accidents, would eventually die from lung diseases and tumors.

The fact that people still mine today -- and die of gruesome accidents or black lung disease or cancer -- goes to yet another aspect of humanity that I find difficult to grasp.  I am not even sure what the proper word is to describe it -- but for lack of a better word, I will call it Sheeple-ism.  You believe that something is your lot in life, and therefore you enter the mines daily until you die in order to put food on the table for your children who will also probably endure this same fate.  

Then there are those researchers, like Marie Curie, who died from her own research with radiation.   For years after her death her notebooks were too "hot" to handle.  Their radioactivity was measured in units, the "curie." the term was all that was left behind of the Curie's (her husband Pierre was struck and killed by a carriage that he was unable to see or hear due to his ailments).  Was that their purpose in life?  Is it the coal miner's purpose in life to mine coal until they die?

Does a society need sheeple in order to survive?

I may be reading a 500-page book on the secret history of the "war" on cancer, but cancer is only one layer of a society, nay, a planet that is focused on greed and neglect of its occupants.  (It took me a long time to come up with that sentence!  I am not sure where the nay came from, but we shall let it stand!)  In my head there is this chorus of chanting amoebas circling about screaming "do you get it?"  do you get it? DO YOU GET IT?  Do you see? do you see? DO YOU SEE?

I do.  But boy, it sure is hard to put it into words.  Not without sounding like a text book, or a nut job, or the anti-sheeple!

But I will try.

I could go on and on and on and on about how the government and industry have screwed us countless times by covering up proof that certain things cause cancer.  But I think that ultimately we all know this.  The bottom line is our health reflects the sum of our life experiences and cancer is not caused by anything genetic -- but what happens after we are born.  Where and how we live and work, what we eat, how we spend our time, how we move about.

By 1938, the world's top scientists from around the world understood that cancer came from the workplace, nutrition, hormones, sunlight, radiation and tobacco.  We, the people, did not know this.  Maybe some people still think that cancer is just bad luck, I don't know.

Everything is connected -- and that really comes into stark clarity when things that have never made any sense start to make a lot of sense.  As a student, I was completely drawn to the Holocaust.  In a college course in Humanities, I had a professor who was this beautiful woman (not sure what that has to do with anything, but she was a working mother and I remember feeling her struggle) and I used to ask her, HOW could this happen?  We'd watch these movies in class, and I couldn't understand, how could people stand by and let this happen?  

I can see her smile now, her shrug, the look she would give me.  And now that I think about it, I received such reactions a lot through life.  From people who'd stopped questioning and had replaced that drive with acceptance.  I think the look was tinged with pity -- and I could be completely making this up in my head, but it makes sense.    I felt sorry for people who had no answers, and they felt sorry for me because I was looking for them!  Interesting.

Anyway, enough self-analysis for the moment.  I really want to try to get this out.  So I had this Holocaust thing going ... and did for years.  I devoured books on the subject and I would think time and again, if **I** was around at that time, I would have done something!  I could never have sat back and watched people be gassed.

Well, of course there were people who did something, and now, with a war in Iraq something I can't personally stop and a president who stole the presidency and no one even really remembers that (or even worse, thinks he is a good president) the passage of time brings understanding to me -- perhaps understanding I'd rather not have, but do nonetheless.

But ... here's the thing ... Hitler couldn't have acted on his own.  And his idea of an Aryan Nation was not just his vision.

By the end of World War I, racial hygiene was a respected field of medical science in Germany, England, France and AMERICA.

Racial hygiene is the selection by the government, of the most physical, intellectual and moral persons to raise the next generation, otherwise known as selective breeding, and used with animals all the time.  The U.S. government used deportation, segregation, compulsory sterilization and even genocide of those with mental disabilities, ethnicities, handicaps, criminal backgrounds, etc. etc. to weed out the bad.

I'd actually forgotten about this (can't imagine why) and remember reading about a southern family who were all sterilized because their father was an alcoholic.

In 1910, the United States created a eugenics record office whose job was to be sure that deficient persons didn't get a chance to transmit their defects.  And based on this offices "research" that the populations of southern and eastern Europeans, Mediterraneans and Russian Jews were rife with defects and should be kept out of the American gene pool, Congress passed the Johnson-Reed act in 1924, banning immigrants from the "weaker" stock and forcibly sterilizing citizens deemed deficient.

This is getting way too long and probably too boring for anyone to want to read, so I'll stop without even getting to the part where Hitler was basically using an American-devised theory,  or that there were many, many Jews who believed that selective breeding was a great idea (until it was turned on them of course) or how I see a direct connection between all the ills of history and where we are now and where we are going.  Oh, and why for the first time I understood Hitler -- or at least the gist of the phenomena that was the Holocaust.  I am sure the guy just thought, WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING?  WHY do they let this happen to them?  I just don't understand how 11 million people couldn't figure out how to save themselves.  Or do I?

If you end this thinking that I am a nut, off my rocker or just plain crazy ... then GOOD!  Because the way I see it, all the people who got it, who knew in their bones things were very, very wrong and tried to do something to stop it -- are the people who lived their lives as crazy people, but emerged in history as heros and heroines.

Farewell skiing

Another great ski year has come to an end.

We skied yesterday in temps over 70 degrees (hence the shorts!)

The best run of the day was Eggbeater, pictured here to the left.    We did BBQ beach and started our tans.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Happy Spring!

If you've got a miracle, I wanna know about it

And now ... it's coconut oil.

No one falls for things like I do -- I will admit that.  And even while the intellectual part of me knows that the book I am reading is a marketing tool and not based on facts necessarily -- I still eat them up.  And ingest whatever wonder food and or/drink they are raving about.  (Which reminds me, I need to make Kombucha today, and rearrange the pantry so I can start growing wheat grass again.)  

I believe that all of these things do have positive aspects -- and I probably don't need them all, all the time, but how does one know when to stop?  Can you become addicted to feel good things?  (Didn't I just sound like Carrie from Sex and The City there?  Hee hee.)

So here are a few of the things that I have been doing lately, in addition to Kombucha, Apple Cider Vinegar, Wheat Grass and now coconut oil.

Dry brushing.  Whoa momma!  One wouldn't think that something so simple would be so invigorating ... but you take a long-handled stiff brush (I purchased mine at a health food store for like six bucks) and in long strokes you brush your entire body.  It feels a little rough at first, but when you are done and in the shower you feel GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD.

Then out of the shower, feeling good, and on to the Neti Pot.  The what?  The Neti Pot I said.  This is this silly teapot-looking thing that you fill with warm water and some salt and then plug into one nostril, tilt your head and let it pour out the other nostril.  I found this to be a little disconcerting at first (heck, the Neti Pot itself sat on the kitchen counter for weeks, to remind me I had to use it, but I was afraid!) and it actually didn't feel that good at all.  It felt like it does when you get water in your nose swimming -- and I am not a big fan of that.  But ... the next time it was as it was supposed to be -- a relaxing stream of warm water running through -- and if you get that nose in the water feel, you just tilt your head to make it stop.  I am not going to say the entire process isn't kinda gross -- because when you are done with that part, then you have to blow.  Blow me down -- ICK.  Kind of think of it has a powerhouse version of blowing your nose.

But afterwards, you take these deep breaths and feel so, so ... open!  I love it!  I am now officially addicted to body brushing and Neti Potting.

So yesterday I was headed to Concord to meet Peter at his office and after doing the above two things, I decided to coat myself in coconut oil because the book I had just read went on and on and on about its therapeutic effects -- and with warm weather coming up, we're going to start showing some skin baby!

I slathered it on quite liberally, and hit every square inch of my body.  I glistened, I smelled like coconut and I looked in the mirror and thought oh shit!  This stuff isn't soaking in!  There was no way I could put on clothes, unless of course I wanted to ruin them, so I decided to go make a smoothie while waiting.  So, I am walking around the house in my naked, coconut glory, and the dogs are traipsing after me ... LICKING me!  It was so gross!  I had to keep yelling at them, stop that, leave me alone, I am not edible!  I had to finally put them out, because especially Lucy, she was just loving my legs and kept looking up at me like, why would you make me stop?

So, eventually it soaked in enough to get dressed, and I met up with Peter.  Later he asked me what took me so long to get there.  And I thought, do I tell him?  So I said, well, it took a little longer than I expected to body brush, Neti Pot, shower and cover myself with coconut oil.

I do NOT believe that there is any correlation to that statement and the fact that he brought up my getting a job at dinner that night.

AHHHHHHHHH -- heaven

The sun has now risen above the chair, but this little slice of heaven is what I'm talkin' about!

I woke up this morning ready to go skiing.  The sun was streaming in the window and I had heard the conditions were still good -- with total trail coverage.  I figured, since the mountain is closing this weekend, that it would be worth going over and getting in some runs.

After I dropped off Maddie, I drove into the driveway and calculated how much time I needed to get ready and be at the mountain by 9:00.  I was trying to decide if I had time to fit in juicing (though I had a full cup of coffee that I had just picked up at the convenience store -- some mornings the thought of coffee sounds wonderful, while others I can't imagine having any) when I stepped on the front porch and saw that the rocking chairs were bathed in sunlight.

I had been sitting in one yesterday evening reading a book, and the book was still there.  Without much thought I took my cup of coffee and body and placed both in the chair, facing the sun.  Ahhhhhhhhhhh.  Oh, it felt good.  The sun was warm and delicious, the coffee was aromatic and soothing and the three dogs found a way to wrangle themselves so they all had a place at my feet.  For a long while I just sat there, eyes closed, and meditated and breathed in the cool spring air.  At first I was very aware of how DAMN LOUD the road is at the bottom of the hill, and I was disgusted as a truck huffed and puffed its way up the hill (it seems to take an eternity -- you can hear the truck groaning and moaning, the gears shifting, the creaking of the poor vehicles bones as it struggles to make the grade ... but it's really TORTURE when you are tuned into it!)

At last the truck came to the top and I opened an eye to see what it was (the road is currently posted for a some ton limit) but it wasn't really a huge truck.  I was glad to see it gone, then I returned to my peaceful place.  And as I calmed down -- so did the world.  The overall sounds of our petroluem-based society were gradually replaced by the sounds of birds.  The dogs were especially intrigued by the trilling of some odd bird in the woods across the road ... and it was as though the bird was watching us, because as soon as we stopped looking for it, it would trill again!  The moment the dogs put their heads back down, the bird would shout "yoo hoo, over here!" and up their heads would pop!

Then it became cool as the world quieted even more and I could hear the buzzing of insects, almost feel the movement of birds wings as they flew by ... and the searing rays of the sun were illuminating my face ... making me feel as though spring had, finally, FINALLY FINALLY FINALLY!  Arrived.  Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

And I don't know how, but suddenly all traffic ceased on the road.  I had even said to Peter last night that he had no idea how busy our road was -- that the traffic was constant and noisy and that I felt the need to move deeper into the woods!  It was almost as though the place (the place being Freedom Acres ... which has always been an entity of its own) was attempting to prove to me that it was still the same sanctuary I had discovered well over ten years ago -- and despite being on the front porch, as opposed to the back deck which overlooks a field and woods and is very, very private, I was able to experience that sense of "oh, this place is heaven and where else would you want to be?" right out there in front, with full exposure to the world.

Then I thought what I must look like to passersby.  In the sun, coffee cup clutched in hand, a book on my lap and three dogs surrounding me.  Wouldn't you go by someone like that and envy them completely?  It is 9:30 in the morning and it is almost 65 degrees on the front porch!  There is not a black fly to be had -- I have all the doors and windows open in the house and both the dogs and myself are moving from inside to out as though it is all one world!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Really, that's all I can say!

Trying to balance the weight of the world with the moment

Balance -- I spent the afternoon (and yesterday afternoon too) knowing that I have to balance my quest to prove the world is on a collision course to disaster and that our food is killing us and that drug companies know this and don't care and that it's a good thing I know how to ride horses because they might just be the ONLY transportation we'll have in a few years ... with good things.

Such as?

I took a wonderful hike in the woods (well, everyday this week) and I read two books that were for pure pleasure.  (It always amazes me how quickly I read novels, while it takes me months to slog through the other type books.) And I thought long and hard about all that I am trying to do and why.  Like ... why was I going to go on a juice fast?  Why was I reading about detox diets?  Why was I choking down green juices that tasted AWFUL when I absolutely love and enjoy the juices I make?

The thing that struck me the most is that I NEVER believe anyone at first blush -- I question and question and question.  So why am I not naturally questioning the reasons for completely changing my diet?  I do not have cancer and I do not believe that my body is highly toxic.  For the past four years I have overhauled my diet and while I slip up from time to time, overall I eat pretty darn good.  I am always reading about things that will make me feel better -- I take fish oil/borage oil supplements, I put flax seed oil into my super healthy smoothies, I make homemade Kombucha and drink it daily, I am going to start growing wheat grass and sprouts again and I read that coconut oil is the new kickass wonder supplement.  I just ordered two gallons of the stuff.

Let's face it.  I AM a coco-NUT!  Like the dogs above, watching the dog below fetch a stick, I am constantly on the look-out for the next cure-all, the wonder food or supplement that will make my skin vibrant and my hair full and luxuriant and my eyes sparkle and fill me with vitality.  I read and read and am told that I should eat many mini-meals over the course of the day, that I MUST NOT do anything while eating those meals but be in the moment and chew each mouthful slowly and I should only eat raw food and my body's PH levels are off and I am full of gawdawful things and my colon is totally full of nasties .... and you know what?

I HAVE TO STOP!!!!  The fact of the matter is I am NEVER sick, I am full of vitality, my skin is really in quite nice shape and my hair isn't falling out nor is it brittle or whatever I am attempting to combat through all these things!  I mean geesh, live in the moment a little because I am so far off course from that with my concerns about peak oil and cancer and the fact that women are being terrorized ... it's TOO MUCH!

I like food, I like food that is cooked, I like to curl up with a good book and some food and do the two at the same time!  I mean, I enjoy it!  And I can't climb into my car everyday and wonder, as I drive 10 miles to pick up Charlie at the school in the middle of nowhere and another 10 miles in the opposite direction to pick up Maddie if that someday that won't truly be possible.

There has to be a middle ground -- between putting one's head in the sand and pretending that everything is going to be just fine and keep abreast of truths and consequences and figuring out what are the best actions to take.

I need a chill pill.  

I wonder if they sell those by the gallon?  Because you know it, I'm going to order them right now.

Peaked to the limit

I don't know why I seem to read only books that were written by Henny Penny (the sky is falling, the sky is falling) but I've been on a real role lately.  If I am not immersed in the history of the mistreatment of women and the corresponding rise of the male hero, then I am reading about our tainted food source and how corporations covered up decades of cancer-causing activity in the name of the almighty dollar.

And while they are not all doom and gloom, there are times when I have to sit back and take a deep breath and realize I can't take anymore right now!  And that is how it's been the past few days -- so much so I couldn't even begin to blog about one topic or the other because they are so grim.

Then a thought occurred to me -- if this society is really as messed up as it appears to be -- and if our government is completely and totally corrupt, and the corporations that rule it are as hideous as they seem to be ... then the end of the world might not be such a bad thing.

Chilling perhaps.  I know.   Doesn't even seem to be something that should be said -- but I was doing some research on Peak Oil (again ... it's one of those topics you have to walk away from because the information is just too overwhelming) and while it would be nice to think that there is some magic replacement "they" are working on that will replace oil seamlessly, the truth is, "they" have never done one thing positive for society or our planet to date. 

"They" have been attempting to cure cancer for as long as they have caused it, and yet ... cancer is about as prevalent in our lives as television -- everyone has one, some have bigger ones, some have smaller ones, but there are VERY FEW homes without tv/cancer.  And those screens just keep getting bigger and bigger.  Heck, people even build rooms around them.

"They" have been creating Terror Dreams that feed on society's paranoia as a whole to engage us in wars that have never been the answer.

"They" have been dumbing down our society through an absolutely fraudulent educational system that is steeped in negativity and chaos.

So quite frankly, if "they" are supposed to be our saviors ... we are SCREWED.  Hmmm, wait a minute, let's be reasonable here.  Think about all they did in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina ... those people were JUST FINE.

Another thing that concerns me is that the government ("they") are obsessed with scaring the shit out of us.  In the 1950's civil defense authorities encouraged people to build personal bomb shelters because of nuclear threat (how many of us have heard our parents talk about having drills where they had to hide underneath their desks in school?)  In 2000 there were very few assurances that the Y2K bug wouldn't kill us, and that particular disaster was proven ridiculous by the turning of the clock.

In 2003 the Department of Homeland Security (THEY THEY THEY) encouraged Americans to stock up on plastic sheeting and duct tape to seal windows in case of biological or chemical attacks -- which any sane person would realize would do absolutely nothing ... but it was used as a terror tactic.  Keep the masses in fear, we got a war to start.

But here ... here we get bupkus.  Nary a word about Peak Oil from THEY ... no, no, no.  Which leaves people to believe that they are safe.  When obviously, if we were safe they would be telling us to stockpile food and buy horses and buggies!

Get it?  That is the reason I am concerned the most!

But ... then again, if you think about it, where we've been going is out of control.  As a society based on MORE MORE MORE -- like any ill-behaved child we need to be punished.  And sometimes punishment hurts.  And because we've had no parents -- because we've been a society as a whole unleashed on the planet with no rules other than to consume as much and as often as possible -- there are so many of us who have no skills.   Think about this:  Home economics -- that class we took where we learned how to sew and cook, is no longer allowed to teach sewing.  Why?  Well, think about it.  The powers that BE ... my "THEY," must sit there and think, what is the point?  We have all that slave labor we've been using overseas there is never going to be a reason for someone to have to know how to SEW.  Banish that class and replace it with Shopping With A Vengeance 101 and How to Abuse Your Credit Card.

Here is the thing -- there is no dispute amongst anyone -- politicians, lawmakers, oil specialists, etc. etc. that there is such a thing as peak oil -- what is up in the air is how long the downward slope lasts.  The greatest problem is that our demand so far exceeds the potential supply that the time span keeps getting narrower. 

I read an interesting analogy that helped me to understand this.  The body of a 200 pound man holds 140 pounds of water.  Because water is so crucial to everything the human body does, the man doesn't need to lose all 140 pounds of water weight before collapsing due to dehydration.  A loss of as little as 10-15 pounds of water  may be enough to kill him.

In a similar sense, an oil based economy doesn't need to deplete its entire reserve before it begins to collapse.  A shortfall between demand and supply as little as 10-15 percent is enough to wholly shatter an oil-dependent economy and reduce its citizens to poverty.

In 1970, shortfalls in production as small as five percent caused the price of oil to nearly quadruple.  And there were also shortages.  I can remember huge lines at gas stations -- and I can recall adults discussing that there were certain days you could get gas depending on your license plate numbers or something.

It almost seems insane that American's had a taste of what it would be like to not have carte blanche access to oil THIRTY FIVE YEARS ago, and nothing was done to begin to reduce our dependency then.  Heck, everything was done to create an astronomical dependence by creating a global economy.

I don't really have any answers right now -- I could list things that various survivalist sites have instructed as must-haves in a post-peak-oil society, such as guns and food and whatever, but I am not much interested in living in such a world.  I don't want to spend my days sitting on top of my horde of food and shoot people who are starving.  If someone knocks on my door and is starving, I will feed them.  I am going to learn how to garden organically (though I'd rather eat worms, I do so hate gardening) and while I might not have a huge garden right away, at least I will build up my skills.  Because apocalypse or not -- our food is tainted and inedible right now.  But I am interested in keeping organic farms in business right now, and it would be selfish of me to take away business by having a garden of my own.  (Oh baby, can I spin!)

And I guess I'll keep reading and reading and reading and wondering and wondering and always, absolutely always knowing that "THEY" are out to get us, if only with mass stupidity. 

I call it lifeblood

Turn this yummy (COLORFUL) assortment

Into this!  I call if LifeBlood.

I think I cracked through

 

Now that I no longer feel heavy and overwhelmed, I've taken a step back and examined yesterdays thoughts and feelings.

I have never been one who is prone to depression, I am generally even-keeled emotion-wise and unlike many members of my family, I am not burdened with PMS symptoms that are downright scary!  (I am not pointing fingers here, really!)

But in exchange for that, I suffer serious "change of season" periods -- a phenomena that I actually recognized several years ago, but I believe I've had all of my adult life.  When I say serious, I mean, I get depressed and all the other PMS symptoms that some people deal with on a monthly basis and I don't even know what is going on until I am out of it.

Yesterday was not about that -- it was something else.  But it still involved feeling down and uninspired and blah and I think I was channeling spring! LOL  

Let me explain.  (Or have you run away?)

Before a flower comes out of the ground, it has to push through dirt.  Dark, heavy dirt.  And while I am not really channeling spring, I am using that as my metaphor for coming out of the dark doldrums of winter and opening up and coming out of the dark earth and into the light.

Get it?  Into the light?  (Don't they say if you have to explain too hard you're not doing a good job of explaining?)  Well, listen harder then!

But not really winter ... but unconsciousness!  And ... because I fight everything, it couldn't be a smooth transition -- it had to hurt a little.  (Have I written this already?  I am experiencing de ja vue).

I feel as though I have cracked through -- I don't feel overwhelmed today, I feel inspired.  I don't feel heavy, I feel as though I could float -- my entire body is all tingling and full of energy.  (I haven't even juiced or had wheatgrass yet ... I have been typing non-stop for hours!)

And I am ready to continue on with my journey.  (Yesterday I attempted to watch the webcast of A New Earth and just couldn't do it.)  Today I am ready to hear what I couldn't handle yesterday.

Yesterday evening Peter said to me "I see you are leaving your car in the driveway, (as opposed to the garage) I guess it is spring."

I heard him say "You are lazy, you never put your car in the garage," and I said so.

And he said "That is your perception.  I was actually saying it because to me it is a sign of spring, and I like it."

And I thought ... really?  Did he actually say that is my perception?  Because he is right!  And so I agreed with him (about it being my perception) and then tried to get over myself.

I wonder if he said that tonight if I would perceive it the same way?

What a difference a day makes, huh?

Am I awake already or what?

Okay, so it's back to A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose by Eckhart Tolle.  It's been awhile, and it's been awhile since I've read it because it is in a word ... overwhelming.

But today I was determined to read the entire thing -- because it seemed as though I had been stalled at Chapter 5 forever.

All I managed to get through was Chapter 6 and half of 7.  It's kind of freaking me out.  It's as though the book stops me and makes me process things before carrying on.  (Well okay fine, not the book, but the force.  The force be with me.)  Damn force.  Which is not the proper word, I guess the word I am avoiding is consciousness.  Because I don't like it.  When the word unconscious is uttered, I see some poor soul laying on the ground, out like a light.  Unconscious (and therefore hurt).  And when I say conscious, I have no visual.  I don't see the same person who was laying on the ground hurt standing up and unhurt.  I have no touchstone for conscious, and I guess that is half the point.  (I don't really understand that half of the point so I am not going to be so bold as to say it is the total point!)

Anyway, all these thoughts that I am not supposed to be having (because thoughts are ego-based) are all over the place and they are bogging me down.  Literally.  I can feel the weight of all these thoughts (that I am NOT supposed to be having) and so I went into the present moment and took a few deep breaths and said that now was all there was and I was out like a light.

I was rendered unconscious!  (Fell into a deep, deep sleep).

So what is up with that?

I'll tell you.  This book is KILLING me.

And I think that is the point.  (The whole one this time, ha ha).

What I read today basically brought me to the understanding that I am resisting this whole thing.  Which is me to a "T."  It's not that I don't like change, it's more that I don't like not controlling things.  And to give yourself up to the moment is letting go of control.   And my ego, my strong, well groomed ego is working me -- making me think that I am all evolved and ready, even letting me believe at times that I am letting go.  But I am not.

Now, in this war of my essence versus my ego, I win the battle whenever I recognize my ego at work.  But ... with more of these swirling thoughts, I realize that you can not fight anything, for resistance brings persistence.  So I am just in this whirlwind getting nowhere, being ejected from time to time into the light, but getting drawn right back in when the wind chooses.  

From the book:

Nonresistance is the key to the greatest power in the universe.

Well, you can be sure that was a big lightbulb moment for me.  But where do I get me my nonresistance pill?

Inner resistance to form -- whatever is or happens -- is a denial of the absolute reality of form.  Resistance makes the world and the things of the world appear more real, more solid, and more lasting than they are, including your own form identity, the EGO.  It endows the world and the ego with a heaviness  and an absolute importance that makes you take yourself and the world very seriously.

I found it interesting that I felt bogged down, that I can literally feel the weight of this whole thing and then to come across that paragraph ... and to find that I am not feeling all that in front of the door to enlightenment, but smack dab in the middle of ego -- well, it's frustrating.   So is the metaphor the more you feed the ego, the heavier you feel?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH.

So really, this particular entry is to mark my frustration and my complete and total lack of awakening on any level.

But ... form means limitation and we are here not only to experience limitation, but also to grow in consciousness by going beyond limitation.

So ... it's all good.

Right?

I am off to now watch the videos on the two chapters I've just read, and I will report back with any new tidbits that might make more sense!

Why do we try to be Wonder Women anyway?

Yesterday at the grocery store as I was checking out, through the windows I saw a woman putting her baby into the baby seat of a cart.  Clearly she was a new mother, and clearly she was having trouble getting the baby strapped in.  When she'd adjusted the straps and made sure everything was okay, I saw her take a deep breath and then look towards the doors of the store.

And being her flooded back to me and I knew just what she was thinking and feeling.  She was already exhausted ... for to get from her house to the doors of the store was monumental.  From all appearances, I would guess that the baby was less than a month old.  While the new mom had showered and dressed in comfortable clothing, that was all the attention she had put into herself.  She looked tired, her hair was that half-wet messy look and I knew what she was trying to do.

Be fricking Wonder Woman

.

What is up with us?  Why do we feel so damn obligated to push ourselves?  It was almost 5:00 p.m. and I knew that she had woken up that morning with one goal:  To get to the grocery store.  She wouldn't make dinner that night -- she wouldn't be able to.  And there is no doubt that while her husband would be pleased to see that she had actually purchased groceries (no doubt she really needed diapers!) he would be disappointed that she hadn't done MORE that day.  You know, like the pile of laundry that kept growing, or even make the bed.  And WHEN WAS SHE going to make dinner?  

When she woke up, after waking up countless times throughout the night to feed her baby, she would be exhausted.   There would be no aaaaaah, I feel like a million bucks type feeling, but that heaviness that cloaks you when you know that every thing you do will make you feel inadequate.  She would feed the baby, change the baby, and after taking care of a few needs of her own, she might, just might have found some breakfast and a moment to herself.

But the baby would be calling for her at some point, and after feeding the baby again, with the goal of getting to the grocery store in her head, she would bathe the baby and dress him/her in an outfit that was clean and perhaps her favorite.  (I always dressed my babies in my fave outfits when we went on outings ... and any stained, messy thing when we were home, since they went through five or six in one day!)  Then after feeding the baby to sleep she would get her own shower.  Of course, since she hadn't had a chance to do laundry because she had been out of laundry detergent for days, she would have to put on the same sweat pants and sweatshirt she'd been wearing for weeks because it was all that fit.

Which would depress her greatly and cause her to throw herself on the couch with anything she could find in the empty cupboards in an attempt to comfort herself.  And then she would wonder, should she go to the store now?  While the baby was asleep?  Or did she wait until the baby woke up, was fed again and then go?   But the fact that no one was needing anything at that moment would cause her to stay anchored in the couch.

By late afternoon she would change the baby from the outing outfit that had been soiled and put on something less than what she had pictured and then get the baby and herself into the car.  This may or may not make her cry.  Hauling the heavy carseat, making sure the diaper bag was packed with enough clothes, diapers and incidentals to get one through very real and potential incidents like diaper blow outs and projectile vomiting and then having to run back to search the house violently for a pocketbook that hasn't been seen in awhile all add up to such an overwhelming stew.  I am stressed just recalling it.

The baby may or may not have cried at the tops of its lungs the entire ride.  It may have slept.  It's a crap shoot getting in the car with an infant.  And it is all made so much better by the fact that for everyone's safety an infant must ride in the middle of the backseat backwards so the mother has no idea if the child is dying when it is crying as though it is dying, or just airing its lungs.  In fact, my neck just started to ache as muscle memory made  me crank my neck to check to see what I could ascertain about the situation by staring at the top and back of the carseat.

Your only option was to shake the car seat, to mimic a rocking motion, though in fact you were far too stressed to be gentle.  Which would then alert you to the fact that you did NOT attach the car seat properly because there is no way it should be moving that much.  Which would make you more stressed and more likely to be in an accident in which said backward infant would somehow find a way to hurl itself through the windshield, because were you not told that infants become projectiles when they are in accident?  And what are the chances of a deranged new mother with no sleep, no food and no brain cells having an accident?

Why don't we have help for months after we have babies?  Why do we feel compelled to believe that we are capable of taking care of not only ourselves, but a new being AND a husband who believes that now that you FINALLY have that baby out of you, you should be so damn thankful you will cook meals out of the sheer joy of not being pregnant?  Who believes that now that you are no longer pregnant, you really have NO EXCUSE not to return to the person you were before.  When the truth of the matter is, it is nearly 22 years after I had my first child and it hasn't happened yet, so it's not likely it will happen in WEEKS.

As I watched this woman it awakened so many memories for me.  Not only did I know how she felt, but I knew that it wouldn't stop being overwhelming for her for years to come.  And that it was highly likely that before she found some type of equilibrium, she would add another baby to the mix anyway.  So why even try to save her?

I guess I just don't understand why we pretend that it is all so easy and that when we get together with friends we share our birth stories and the trauma of that -- but overall we are so hell bent on being the wonder women we're supposed to be, we downplay the fact that everything is just so damn hard.  So hard.

So I'm not going to be Wonder Woman anymore.  And the next time I see a woman like that, or even that very same woman, I am going to go up to her and say to her that she looks beautiful.   And that she should ask for help and take any help that is offered, because she is not being judged on her accomplishments of the day (and if her husband is, then leave him home with the baby while she shops and tell him to finish up the laundry, clean the house and make the bed and see what HE gets done!) and that really, we women -- we are the ones who believe we are never doing enough.

And I have NO IDEA what this woman is thinking.  But there is no doubt in my mind, she has Wonder Woman Syndrome too!  (Or her husband gave her a Segway when she complained that the grocery store was too far to walk to and since HE had the car ...)  Note that she has the wet hair, but is BRAVE enough to wear white pants.  But she did forget one small thing.  Socks for the tot.

Food thrills -- brain games

I forgot to juice this morning.  Things got all out of wack because Charlie's school had a two-hour delay and somewhere along the line between having to go out two different times to take kids to school and bugging him about schoolwork, what he wanted for lunch, etc. it just didn't happen.

At 10:00 I had a whole wheat roll.  Then I went on a hike and was seriously dragging.  It was long and we were wearing snow shoes and it was like slogging along ... I just had no energy.

I had two pieces of cold leftover pizza (not homemade) when I got home at 2:00 because I needed something quick.   And I felt sooooooo tired and blah.

Later, while showering, I wondered why I was so tired.   And I put it all together, the no juicing, the lack of protein, the long hike, the sunshine beating down, not carrying water because it's been winter for so long it hasn't been necessary and the fact that it was a weekend of merry-making.

As I stood before the mirror combing my hair out, I wondered why I am so hard on myself.  Why was I berating myself for being tired when there was a long laundry list of very good reasons for my being so?    Part of it is because I know that if I eat well I will feel well, but the truth of the matter is that I feel fine ... I just don't feel like dancing on tables.

Is it necessary to be so full of energy all the time that you want to fly?

I laid down on my bed for a bit and it felt very good.  And I thought ... most people do not hike as much as I do -- why is it necessary for me to dissect why I am tired?  I SHOULD be tired ... it was a solid hour and a half of hiking in loose snow!  Why do I think I have to be Wonder Woman all the time?

I am so competitive -- even against myself -- and every type of exercise I do has to be measured against the time before.  Did I shave off any minutes, seconds, nanoseconds?   It doesn't matter, as long as there is progress.   It's ridiculous!  And it completely goes against the Living In The Moment mindset.

I am constantly critical of Peter always doing -- and yet, I am no different in terms of having to DO BETTER than the time before.  Or not realizing that climbing a mountain is an accomplishment.  Or walking 12 miles through three towns is not really normal!  When I get stiff I think there is something wrong with me!  I haven't eaten properly, I'm not in good enough shape, anything but the obvious:  My body is tired! 

Geesh.

I made myself a smoothie with mixed (frozen) berries, acai, protein powder, flaxseed oil and fresh blueberries.  I don't know whether or not it is psychological, but I already feel a million times better.  Food not only nourishes your physical body, but your brain clearly gets a kick out of torturing you when you feed it pizza and making you believe you are good for nothing!

Brain games!  And now, after pouring down a beautiful, purple concoction down my throat my brain is giggling and touching off feel good neurons.

Food kills.  And Food Thrills.

This bumper sticker keeps getting longer!

Attack of the Killer Food

                             

                                             

    This versus this   

Debbie Does Raw -- I was reading this blog this morning and this paragraph really made me think: 

There are 3 types of food consumers. The first one looks at the picture on the box or package and throws it in the cart. This is the person that will end up with chronic illness, early aging and other health problems. The second type carefully reads the back of the box, looks for good ingredients, then makes the healthiest choice they can. This person will also suffer illness and health issues, perhaps later in life or of less severity. The third consumer never buys anything that is in a box, can or package and only uses raw, living foods. This is the person that will suffer the least illness and have the longest natural life-span."

I've been all three people and I am happy to say that I eat very little out of a box, can or package these days -- though I will admit, I am not totally pure.  What really hit me was the wording on the second type -- who will carefully read the back of the box and then make the healthiest choice they can.  Which is exactly how it feels when you read the list of ingredients ... because deep down you KNOW it's not the best choice of food to eat, you KNOW that it's got stuff in it you don't want to be eating and yet ... it's the healthiest choice you can get at that moment.  ICK.

There should be no settling!

Last night we went out to eat and I ordered this shrimp with pasta with a vodka sauce.   I knew it would be fairly rich but my intent was to eat very little pasta, the shrimp and I had a salad with it.

But the food is just plain not good.  And when you eat beautiful food, organic, flavorful, healthy food, it just doesn't seem right to be eating blah.  I kept looking at the plate -- it was an orange (fake orange fake orange think macaroni and cheese out of a box orange!!!) sauce that kind of made my mouth turn down ... the shrimp were tiny little specimens, fairly tasteless, and while the pasta was fine, I didn't eat much of that because it's not really fine, it's bloat food.

And that is what happened.  My stomach just revolted at the whole thing.  In fact, we were out with a group of people (there were 11 of us) and I was home and in bed by 10:00.  Yes.  The food did me in!!!  I woke up this morning thinking I need beautiful food!  Green green juice and beet red juice and tangy ginger ... and wheatgrass to flush out the baddies that invaded my body!

I fall off the good food wagon periodically, and yesterday after a long hike where I felt fabulous and a shower which felt glorious, I was thinking WOW!  It feels good to feel good!  And several hours later I was in bed with a stomach ache and no will to live.

You know, like anything, I know what I put into my body will affect the way I look and feel, but in it still goes.  It is quite possible that on any given day I could murder someone if they had a bag of sour cream and onion potato chips and wouldn't share.  I am just saying.  I like bad food.  

But when you read things Food Kills - the slow poisoning of you and your children like our food source began to be chemically altered in 1912 when the FDA went from truly being an advocate for the people to a tool for corporate interests (come on, admit it, you see FDA-approved and think, it can't be bad!)

Since that time, and I actually thought that it didn't go back that far, enormous quantities of highly toxic chemical food additives, preservatives, pesticides, fungicides, dyes and packaging chemicals have been added to our food.  Chemically altered foods and those grown in soils depleted of minerals and enzymes are no longer being recognized or digested properly and they create problems in the body that make it impossible for it to heal itself and get well.  People have been eating so many dead and enzyme-lacking foods for so long that their bodies are no longer capable of producing the enzymes that they need.

Some of these additives are chemicals that are deliberately engineered i order to get you addicted to the specific food (DAMN THOSE POTATO CHIP PEOPLE) that contains them and to make you eat more.  (I always knew it wasn't my fault!)

Then, to add insult to injury, when you get sick you are given medications that frequently create serious side effects because when you suppress the body's warning systems (GALLBLADDER ATTACK GALLBLADDER ATTACK) it is forced to create more symptoms.  At least 250 of the more common medications also contribute to making it extremely hard for a body to heal itself.  This is because they bypass the autonomic nervous system and give the body new symptoms that it is now even more unable to recover from due to also not being given enough proper nourishment in food to do so.

What it boils down to (toxically of course) is that we are being continuously and slowly poisoned by not only toxic food but a toxic environment to the point where our bodies simply can't handle it and we eventually become chronically (or terminally) ill.  The lack of enzymes in our food overtaxes the body's own enzyme production process and causes its eventual breakdown.  Then we get treated with toxic medications that make us even more ill.  And if you end up in the hospital you get more toxic food and medications!

Food kills.  I'm getting a bumper sticker.