There's something so unsettling and unnerving about an earthquake. We had one tonight. A 5.6 over a hundred miles away. But we felt it pretty good. They come on so quickly. And you don't know how long they will last. And you don't know if it's "The Big One" or if you can laugh about it later.
Well, this wasn't The Big One. But it was a good shaker. It started off with a jolt, then wobbled from side to side for a few seconds, then stopped. You are aware that you just had an earthquake and hope it's over. But no. About then, it starts shaking gently then gathers a bit of momentum and shakes harder.... then stops!
Now you can take a breath and let it out and realize, Nope, not The Big One! But by now my parrots are screaming and thrashing in their cages, the big macaws fleeing from their perches and clutching the cage bars, screaming their heads off in fear. My blue and gold is usually hyperventilating with fear and I have to spend five or ten minutes telling them softly, "It's all right. You're all right." Slowly, their breathing slows and their eyes quit dilating. But my parrots do not like earthquakes!
I missed the Big One in '89. Bill and I were in Baja and had to hear about it on the radio. The only radio station we could dial in down there in those days was one in Salt Lake City and they made it sound like Sodom and Gomorrah had fallen into the Pacific Ocean and good riddance. I was frantic until we finally heard some better news from a San Francisco station, caught in random snatches over static airways that it wasn't as bad as it sounded. I remember spending the whole night hunched over a crackly transistor radio, praying my family was okay in Northern California until we could finally drive into the nearest town the next day and make a phone call home.
But earthquakes? No, I don't like them. I don't like big surprises and I really don't like my pleasant life jerked to a halt and maybe have to go into survival mode. I guess there's a use for them. Maybe they are God's little wake up calls not to get too complacent or set in our ways for you could find a whole new adventure waiting for you after a good jolt. Go about your business, live your life, but be prepared to change in a hurry if The Big One shows up.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Putting Yourself Out There
I held my first Swap Meet this week-end. Here I am, fifty-eight years old and I've never sold any of my earthly possessions. We'll be moving in January and having lived in the same house for thirty-eight years, it's time to get rid of stuff. So a yard sale seemed like the perfect place. Slowly, over two months, I've been cleaning out closets, drawers and cupboards and lugging the good stuff that I will no longer need out to the garage in boxes.
On Saturday morning, I started putting out my loot. I was fortunate to be assisted by good friend, Dee, who had one yard sale under her belt, so she knew how it should work. She brought a table of her own stuff to sell. I was assailed by doubt as soon as I saw Dee's Stuff. Her stuff was infinitely preferable to my stuff. Could I begin by showing folks her Good Stuff and then end up by showing them my Bad Stuff? She quickly shushed me by saying that one person's Junk was another person's Loot and that was how Yard Sales went.
But it was hard, when those first people started coming and would critically examine my pile of stuff. I tried to imagine what they were seeing as I squinted at a pile of glassware. Where had those Canadian Mist glasses come from? And that plastic Coors beer mug? Goodness, we haven't even had an alcoholic drink in eleven years and I've still got those?! But slowly the pile of stuff disappeared. My biologists friends into fish bought three shark mugs; a hand painted canoe paddle was eagerly sought and almost fought over by two couples with one rising victorious and carrying off his prize; and a 'white elephant' of a piece - a giant ceramic seal - was ultimately captured by the lady who had lost the bid for the paddle. They were carting off my stuff with big smiles and I made a few bucks out of the deal.
So I took that first big step and put myself out there and my stuff for everybody to see. And it wasn't so bad. Turns out maybe my stuff isn't as bad as anybody else's stuff. Maybe not better, but certainly not worse. Makes you take a deep breath and relax a little.
It's that way too with letting folks know what you think about psychic phenonmenon and your belief in spirituality. Sometimes it's real hard to put yourself out there and take that first big step and begin the conversation. I usually try to edge into the conversation and use my Sixth Sense to see if the person I'm conversing with is simpatico with my beliefs or not. I certainly would never jam my ideas down somebody's throat. And I feel very uncomfortable if I overstep and find a person who is not a believer in the Afterlife. For the most part, I try to let the other person lead into that area before I affirm it. But sometimes, you do have to Put Yourself Out There. And so I shall, stepping carefully but sometimes.... I just take the plunge.
On Saturday morning, I started putting out my loot. I was fortunate to be assisted by good friend, Dee, who had one yard sale under her belt, so she knew how it should work. She brought a table of her own stuff to sell. I was assailed by doubt as soon as I saw Dee's Stuff. Her stuff was infinitely preferable to my stuff. Could I begin by showing folks her Good Stuff and then end up by showing them my Bad Stuff? She quickly shushed me by saying that one person's Junk was another person's Loot and that was how Yard Sales went.
But it was hard, when those first people started coming and would critically examine my pile of stuff. I tried to imagine what they were seeing as I squinted at a pile of glassware. Where had those Canadian Mist glasses come from? And that plastic Coors beer mug? Goodness, we haven't even had an alcoholic drink in eleven years and I've still got those?! But slowly the pile of stuff disappeared. My biologists friends into fish bought three shark mugs; a hand painted canoe paddle was eagerly sought and almost fought over by two couples with one rising victorious and carrying off his prize; and a 'white elephant' of a piece - a giant ceramic seal - was ultimately captured by the lady who had lost the bid for the paddle. They were carting off my stuff with big smiles and I made a few bucks out of the deal.
So I took that first big step and put myself out there and my stuff for everybody to see. And it wasn't so bad. Turns out maybe my stuff isn't as bad as anybody else's stuff. Maybe not better, but certainly not worse. Makes you take a deep breath and relax a little.
It's that way too with letting folks know what you think about psychic phenonmenon and your belief in spirituality. Sometimes it's real hard to put yourself out there and take that first big step and begin the conversation. I usually try to edge into the conversation and use my Sixth Sense to see if the person I'm conversing with is simpatico with my beliefs or not. I certainly would never jam my ideas down somebody's throat. And I feel very uncomfortable if I overstep and find a person who is not a believer in the Afterlife. For the most part, I try to let the other person lead into that area before I affirm it. But sometimes, you do have to Put Yourself Out There. And so I shall, stepping carefully but sometimes.... I just take the plunge.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Brothers and Sisters
Charley told me something sweet the other day. "Grandma, I wouldn't be as happy if I never had my brother. He makes me laugh. He makes me happy. I am so lucky Sage is my brother."
It was a strikingly sweet thing to say and remarkable that it came from an eight year old. I wondered if I shared a similar thought about my sister when I was eight? I don't think I was that introspective. Maybe it doesn't matter how old you are if just once in a while you pause and thank your lucky stars you have the siblings you do.
My sister and I have always been on the same 'wave length'. When we were girls growing up together we would finish each other's sentences or thoughts. We thought nothing of it. We knew what the other was thinking and talking about and it just seemed natural. We both married shortly out of high school and have lived apart ever since. But we've never lost our "closeness" no matter if thousands of miles have separated us. When she lived in Germany and England and I in California we would surprise each other by sending our dad identical birthday cards. We've often sent nearly the same present at Christmas times to the same parent. People say we look alike. Our own grandchildren remark that we sound alike. And just this evening, we both baked our husbands oatmeal raisin cookies, without consulting each other.
It could be in Past Lives, we've been twins. We are certainly close. There's a year and a half separating us and currently nine hundred miles but we're never far from each other's thoughts and yes, we can still finish each other's sentences too. Frequently, when we Instant Message each other, we start talking about the same subject at the same time.
Today, in a visit to Charley and Sage's school, the music teacher remarked that we were a lucky family to have two little boys who were so close to each other and who cared for each other so much. I nodded and agreed emphatically. He said, "Those two boys are each other's buddies, aren't they?"
Maybe this family's togetherness is continuing. When my sister and I pass on, my grandsons will continue forming their close bonds and finish each other's sentences and send their daddy the same birthday cards and presents. There's something unique about this. But I'll bet it exists in other families as well as ours.
It was a strikingly sweet thing to say and remarkable that it came from an eight year old. I wondered if I shared a similar thought about my sister when I was eight? I don't think I was that introspective. Maybe it doesn't matter how old you are if just once in a while you pause and thank your lucky stars you have the siblings you do.
My sister and I have always been on the same 'wave length'. When we were girls growing up together we would finish each other's sentences or thoughts. We thought nothing of it. We knew what the other was thinking and talking about and it just seemed natural. We both married shortly out of high school and have lived apart ever since. But we've never lost our "closeness" no matter if thousands of miles have separated us. When she lived in Germany and England and I in California we would surprise each other by sending our dad identical birthday cards. We've often sent nearly the same present at Christmas times to the same parent. People say we look alike. Our own grandchildren remark that we sound alike. And just this evening, we both baked our husbands oatmeal raisin cookies, without consulting each other.
It could be in Past Lives, we've been twins. We are certainly close. There's a year and a half separating us and currently nine hundred miles but we're never far from each other's thoughts and yes, we can still finish each other's sentences too. Frequently, when we Instant Message each other, we start talking about the same subject at the same time.
Today, in a visit to Charley and Sage's school, the music teacher remarked that we were a lucky family to have two little boys who were so close to each other and who cared for each other so much. I nodded and agreed emphatically. He said, "Those two boys are each other's buddies, aren't they?"
Maybe this family's togetherness is continuing. When my sister and I pass on, my grandsons will continue forming their close bonds and finish each other's sentences and send their daddy the same birthday cards and presents. There's something unique about this. But I'll bet it exists in other families as well as ours.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Superior, Arizona
There's a little town in central Arizona I want to introduce you to. It's an old copper mining town that came into existence a hundred and twenty five years ago. It started out as a silver mining town and in the 19-Teens changed over to copper for the next eighty years. Since the early 1990's the mine has been closed and the town has lagged behind.
It's not a big town. It's got a population of nearly four thousand and the majority of the people worked the mine before it closed. It's located sixty miles east of Phoenix and sits under the jutting, majestic peak of Apache Leap. The mountain is a red monolith with bulging pinnacles crowning its summit. It earned its name by General Hooker's men rounding up a hold out band of Apache warriors the Army had destined for an internment camp back east sometime in the 1880's. The Army figured they had them cornered once they'd crowded them onto the steep rocky pitches of the mountain's top. Rather than face the ignominy of incarceration, one by one the warriors leaped to their death from the massive rock.
Superior and the mine and Apache Leap have weathered the past and the present over these many years. You can't have one without the other. They make up the whole. And one wouldn't be the same without the other two.
So now the problem arises: There is a Land Swap before the House and the Senate for a British mining company to come into Superior and re-open the copper mine. It would bring the ailing little town new prosperity and assure the townspeople that their children wouldn't have to move away to make their way in the world. It would insure there was a vibrant livelihood in the town once again. It promises to get the boarded up storefronts on Main Street unboarded and thriving again. In short, it promises to bring Superior back to life after its long hiatus of mine closure and few jobs. But what the Land Swap would do is take away some of the Apache land that was promised by Eisenhower in 1955 to stay in natural lands and award it to the mine for land to be mined on. The method of mining the British company prefers is one called cave blocking, where they would dig down into the bowels of the earth by seven thousand feet to cut out big blocks of ore to bring to the top. The weight of the mountain above it would subsequently fall in on itself when enough of the ore had been removed. Impacting, is how the mine describes it. Imploding the mountain is how the Apaches and some retired miners look at it. There is no guarantee that the Apache Leap mountain would not suffer an impaction. Indeed, if that should happen, the little town of Superior that nestles at the mountain's feet could well be threatened too.
So now the friendly, hard working people are at an impasse. Some are convinced the mine would be the best thing for this ailing community with abject poverty and low paying jobs. Others are just as convinced that the mine could ultimately cause the demise of this sacred Apache land and change the landscape forever. Friends and neighbors are at odds with each other and old resentments are simmering. It's hard to go into any store or public gathering without the question of the copper mine getting trotted out and argued over.So what's the coincidence here? It's that for all of the arguments over whether the mine is a good thing or a bad thing for the town, there is one area that everybody is in agreement upon. And that is their heartfelt hope that they all want what is Best for the town. They all want Superior to survive and want the town to prosper. How that will happen is yet to be decided. But what I'm praying is that folks will recognize that they are all in agreement in wanting their little town to thrive, without changing the fact as to what Superior is.
It's not a big town. It's got a population of nearly four thousand and the majority of the people worked the mine before it closed. It's located sixty miles east of Phoenix and sits under the jutting, majestic peak of Apache Leap. The mountain is a red monolith with bulging pinnacles crowning its summit. It earned its name by General Hooker's men rounding up a hold out band of Apache warriors the Army had destined for an internment camp back east sometime in the 1880's. The Army figured they had them cornered once they'd crowded them onto the steep rocky pitches of the mountain's top. Rather than face the ignominy of incarceration, one by one the warriors leaped to their death from the massive rock.
Superior and the mine and Apache Leap have weathered the past and the present over these many years. You can't have one without the other. They make up the whole. And one wouldn't be the same without the other two.
So now the problem arises: There is a Land Swap before the House and the Senate for a British mining company to come into Superior and re-open the copper mine. It would bring the ailing little town new prosperity and assure the townspeople that their children wouldn't have to move away to make their way in the world. It would insure there was a vibrant livelihood in the town once again. It promises to get the boarded up storefronts on Main Street unboarded and thriving again. In short, it promises to bring Superior back to life after its long hiatus of mine closure and few jobs. But what the Land Swap would do is take away some of the Apache land that was promised by Eisenhower in 1955 to stay in natural lands and award it to the mine for land to be mined on. The method of mining the British company prefers is one called cave blocking, where they would dig down into the bowels of the earth by seven thousand feet to cut out big blocks of ore to bring to the top. The weight of the mountain above it would subsequently fall in on itself when enough of the ore had been removed. Impacting, is how the mine describes it. Imploding the mountain is how the Apaches and some retired miners look at it. There is no guarantee that the Apache Leap mountain would not suffer an impaction. Indeed, if that should happen, the little town of Superior that nestles at the mountain's feet could well be threatened too.
So now the friendly, hard working people are at an impasse. Some are convinced the mine would be the best thing for this ailing community with abject poverty and low paying jobs. Others are just as convinced that the mine could ultimately cause the demise of this sacred Apache land and change the landscape forever. Friends and neighbors are at odds with each other and old resentments are simmering. It's hard to go into any store or public gathering without the question of the copper mine getting trotted out and argued over.So what's the coincidence here? It's that for all of the arguments over whether the mine is a good thing or a bad thing for the town, there is one area that everybody is in agreement upon. And that is their heartfelt hope that they all want what is Best for the town. They all want Superior to survive and want the town to prosper. How that will happen is yet to be decided. But what I'm praying is that folks will recognize that they are all in agreement in wanting their little town to thrive, without changing the fact as to what Superior is.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Unbridled Joy
If there was one thing I could wish for everybody on earth, it would be to experience unbridled joy, at least for a day, most certainly weekly, and for the truly fortunate daily. I have two grandsons, Charley who is 8 and Sage who is 5. These boys bring me more Unbridled Joy than I ever imagined. Their own joyous nature shines off them so brilliantly that it can't fail to whack whoever's around and make them feel the joy the children are feeling. Let me give you an example:
I took the boys out to the sand point for a walk on Thursday. It's where the bay waters open into the Pacific and run freely. There's an open sandy beach with small dunes and fifty yards from the water's edge are bigger sand dunes studded with prickly stinging European Beach Grass. The boys met up with three neighbor kids, each a bit older than Charley, but Charley begged to run and play with them. I was fairly certain the smaller five year old Sage would have a hard time 'keeping up' with the Big Kids, but Charley wanted to play so I agreed. I stayed a discreet distance behind to keep an eye on my youngsters.
When my own children were small, my friend coined a phrase of "Earwig" to describe the youngest child in a group of kids playing. The Earwig was usually the one who lagged behind and had to hurry to catch up; the one the other kids would immediately label "It" in a game of tag. The Earwig would never actually catch up to the bigger kids. The only time that happened would be when a younger child joined the group and then that younger one would be "It".
Well, it was immediately apparent after a few minutes play that Sage was now the Earwig of the moment. He's cute. That's what everybody describes him and what he describes himself as: cute. He's tiny and not very tall, forty two inches and has a sleek cap of blonde hair cut Surfer-style that usually hangs in his pretty green eyes, the same color as his mommy's. He's an adorable, cute little button of a boy. And today, he was the Earwig.
The object of the game was for the four older children to run to one dune and hunker down in the tall dune grass and hide, while Sage was to look for them. When and if he found them, he was supposed to tag one of them and they would be "it". Well, that was the object of the game, but evidently they hadn't fully presented all the criteria to Sage. I watched while they sailed down one dune and sought refuge on the backside of another dune. I looked in vain at a high dune top that I had last seen Sage's head disappear in. Nothing. The big kids peeked up from behind their dune trying to catch sight of their nemesis. So did I. Where was that little boy? Swallowed up in a sand dune and lost?
Immediately, his little blonde head bobbed above the dune grass and he peered out, spotting me first. His face split in a wide grin. The older kids catching sight of him let out a collective whoop of horror and charged off for a an even farther away dune than Sage was on. Sage kept the same delighted grin on this face, sent his little thumb skyward in a jubilant gesture to his grandma and plunged down the steep dune, determined to seek his quarry.
That's what I call Unbridled Joy. He didn't stamp his feet and cry out, "Unfair! You're older and faster than me. I'll never catch you!" He just was consumed with the job of making the Big Kids run and scream and leaped at the chance to participate. My grandson: Unbridled Joy
I took the boys out to the sand point for a walk on Thursday. It's where the bay waters open into the Pacific and run freely. There's an open sandy beach with small dunes and fifty yards from the water's edge are bigger sand dunes studded with prickly stinging European Beach Grass. The boys met up with three neighbor kids, each a bit older than Charley, but Charley begged to run and play with them. I was fairly certain the smaller five year old Sage would have a hard time 'keeping up' with the Big Kids, but Charley wanted to play so I agreed. I stayed a discreet distance behind to keep an eye on my youngsters.
When my own children were small, my friend coined a phrase of "Earwig" to describe the youngest child in a group of kids playing. The Earwig was usually the one who lagged behind and had to hurry to catch up; the one the other kids would immediately label "It" in a game of tag. The Earwig would never actually catch up to the bigger kids. The only time that happened would be when a younger child joined the group and then that younger one would be "It".
Well, it was immediately apparent after a few minutes play that Sage was now the Earwig of the moment. He's cute. That's what everybody describes him and what he describes himself as: cute. He's tiny and not very tall, forty two inches and has a sleek cap of blonde hair cut Surfer-style that usually hangs in his pretty green eyes, the same color as his mommy's. He's an adorable, cute little button of a boy. And today, he was the Earwig.
The object of the game was for the four older children to run to one dune and hunker down in the tall dune grass and hide, while Sage was to look for them. When and if he found them, he was supposed to tag one of them and they would be "it". Well, that was the object of the game, but evidently they hadn't fully presented all the criteria to Sage. I watched while they sailed down one dune and sought refuge on the backside of another dune. I looked in vain at a high dune top that I had last seen Sage's head disappear in. Nothing. The big kids peeked up from behind their dune trying to catch sight of their nemesis. So did I. Where was that little boy? Swallowed up in a sand dune and lost?
Immediately, his little blonde head bobbed above the dune grass and he peered out, spotting me first. His face split in a wide grin. The older kids catching sight of him let out a collective whoop of horror and charged off for a an even farther away dune than Sage was on. Sage kept the same delighted grin on this face, sent his little thumb skyward in a jubilant gesture to his grandma and plunged down the steep dune, determined to seek his quarry.
That's what I call Unbridled Joy. He didn't stamp his feet and cry out, "Unfair! You're older and faster than me. I'll never catch you!" He just was consumed with the job of making the Big Kids run and scream and leaped at the chance to participate. My grandson: Unbridled Joy
Beginnings
We've all experienced coincidences. Found something so odd in these encounters that we've had to share them with others. Have you ever taken them a bit farther with those you've shared with and discovered even more coincidences or odd reactions? I've started collecting these stories and am finding that they are the common thread that connect us to each other and to those who have passed on before us. Sometimes, these strange stories are outright Signs from our loved ones on the Other Side. At times, it takes somebody else to point out these signs to us. We've all had them. We don't always recognize them when we receive them. It just takes one of these coincidences to nudge us awake to recognize it.
I plan to share these unusual stories and coincidences that seem to be proliferating lately. I invite you to share your own personal stories and experiences with me. I think we are all supposed to be sharing these now and a Blog seems to be a great place for doing so.
I plan to share these unusual stories and coincidences that seem to be proliferating lately. I invite you to share your own personal stories and experiences with me. I think we are all supposed to be sharing these now and a Blog seems to be a great place for doing so.
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