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Time to Travel

I planted this blog twelve years ago. It has been mostly a fallow field for the past two years.
I've returned, with plans to feed and water this blog, seeing it as the trunk of a tree, from which branches are soon to come. 
If you're reading this, God bless you. 
A new journey begins, one that involves my deepest connections, my roots in land,
and my roots in my family. 
Change comes near. Comes, I think, quickly. 
You're invited to come along. And I promise never to waste your traveling time. 
Recent posts

Mother´s Day

Mother's Day: A Time to Celebrate Those Who Made us Moms


Thank you to IT Words of Womyn 2016 Anthology for publishing this poem and to Press Women of Texas for awarding it First Place in Single Verse for 2016. Dedicated, of course, to the fierce, bright soul that came to me disguised as my son.  ______________________________________________________

BIRTH BY EMERGENCY
Day 1 Under surveillance, I am monitored moment by moment. Beeps, flashes, signs, green, red and blue lines. It’s supposed to be:  go, baby, go, supposed to be 20 hours ago, but we’re going nowhere− my mouth−dry air my eyes−drift shut
There:  baby in a bin where did he come from, this soul ground from mine and from time, its rhythm interrupted for this bundle of boy? Behind dark eyes, his mystery mind stares at the light. What does he see when he looks at me?

Day 2 Confused by fever bewildered after birth, I do not know the spark in husband’s eye is for the other woman: man on the run. He must leave now, says he will go back to med school, eme…

Life without Television, Part 2

I began life without television with relief, which was consistent Monday through Friday. The first few weekends, though, felt awkward, anxious, lonely. When PBS has good programming on Saturday nights, it is extraordinarily good. Father Brown, Phryne Fisher, New Tricks... Extraordinary acting, high production values, and I fantasize about the pudgy, brilliant priest just perhaps having an innocent crush on one of his special parishioners, which would be moi. 

I called a friend one Sunday. "Maybe television helped with my anxiety more than I realized," I said. She told me about her aunt who, after her husband's death, kept the television on in his "man cave" 24/7. He has been gone years now. The television goes on, everlasting, in his absence. I don't blame her. Much of my frequent and prolonged television viewing began with grief.

After my sister died, I would watch almost anything, especially late at night when sleep eluded me. I even watched Convoy with …

Life without Television, Part the 1st

I cancelled my cable subscription earlier this month. My television was old-analog. Nothing much would come through without the magic box or a new-fangled antenna. A kind man from Goodwill heaved away the grey hulk on a dolly two weeks ago. 

At first, I felt relief. There was no black screen staring at me, taunting me to turn it on and submit to whatever would emanate. My head felt clearer. I felt calmer. I did not watch television as much as many do, but I did watch it more than I once thought I would. When I read Orwell's 1984 in junior high, I thought, "We have nothing to worry about. Why would anyone leave their television on all day and all night?" 

Then, I moved to a foreign country where I was the only American in the village and lived under pretty tough circumstances. Dear G-d, I would even watch "Walker, Texas Ranger" in Spanish, I was so homesick. If my former husband (my cousin calls them "wasbands") came into the den while I was watching Wal…

Beginning 2016 ... Patiently, I Hope

I did little blogging last year due to my work schedule. After a long period of hurried pressure and working through weekends for months on end, it feels almost unnatural to let down and  rest up. Resting requires patience. I wonder if patience comes naturally to anyone, or if it is a learned virtue for all of us? 
For me, patience is like a house. If I can enter it and feel its quiet space around me, I start to feel better. January is a good time to have patience for winter storms, new and difficult beginnings, tougher subjects in one's school or life curriculum. Sometimes I turn to certain Buddhist writers when I feel the need to be reminded that patience is a sign of strength. My poem below is a result of recent reading and realizing that sometimes being still is the hardest thing to do. 
May your new year continue, with peace and patience. 

BIDDEN TO THE BODHI TREE
One man sitting dispells demons

wins war within self
casts light into dark as shadows
grow within—without
      Let …

Glad to Hear It

This past week, Larry Wilmore and company mentioned Rachel Dolezol again on The Nightly Show. I don't remember who made the comment, but either Wilmore or one of the panelists said, "Did Rachel Dolezol do anything bad? No, she really didn't. Why did we get so uptight about that?" I was glad to hear it. Three cheers for being human.

I looked briefly at what's on Google currently about her and the now much-discussed Shaun White. I intend not to enter any of that fray mentally or verbally. I still maintain that humanity trumps color. We have a long way to go until we can leave our "paint by numbers" mentality behind, but we've made progress. Good changes can come, even in the midst of chaos and controversy. Maybe White and Dolezal will help us see that eventually.

As long as I'm here and continuing on the subject of color, I think I'm not alone in the fact that I don't like being called "white." As for my background, it includes …

Blind to Everything but Color: A Kind Word for Ms. Dolezal

Everyone knows now that Rachel Dolezal is descended from Northern and Eastern European ancestors, rather than African ones (I should say descended directly from, given that most humans of all skin colors have some African DNA in their systems). What news I 've read or heard, and the countless sarcastic jokes, leave me deeply puzzled by the widespread response of outrage and outsized disdain over this one woman's life choices. 

Substantial progress is being made in accepting transgender persons (and as is our national tradition, money is being made on the progress). Bruce Jenner's transformation into Caitlyn did not come cheap. The media have been profiting and will continue to with her story, and she did not appear on the cover of Vanity Fair as an act of charity.  I watched multiple news stories where men made remarks about the new, "hot" Caitlyn.  They appeared not to care that the parts of her they admire are neither original or inherited. Caitlyn has now recei…