my juxtapostion

on reflection, i know what brought on that torrential surge of anger i felt: having to juxtapose the following two situations, about myself, for myself.

1. in my role as an RN on a post-surgical ward @ a major tertiary hospital in the vancouver metropolitan area, having the hospital's staffing clerk refuse my request for a nurse's aide to sit with a critically ill patient with a tracheostomy that pt kept tugging at - ie as if to pull it out of his throat. i, having 8 other acutely ill patients requiring many bedside interventions, could not ensure personally his safety. this goes against everything expressed in the Standards of Practice for Registered Nurses, set by the College Registered Nurses of any region. such standards, i think of as largely 'universal.' still, in this situation cost determined care received by this patient, not science or ethics.

2. in my role as one of the first group of 8 RNs hired to work @ the Supervised Injection Site, sitting in a reasonably expensive restaurant - Steamworks - having dinner and a drink, all paid for by 'the company' - the consortium of various levels of gov't and a private gov't-assisted charity. the dinner - an 'informal gathering' of all the new staffing of the place, one of several help prior to its opening. the 'training', took place over three weeks, and involved a hot lunch for all staff each day, fully paid. the decor of the new injection site for intravenous drug users appeared ostentatiously posh for its purpose.

how does one nurse place those two situations side-by-side in her head, heart, soul, spirit? clearly, i had great trouble with this angel ... i wrestled it a while, unsuccessfully. experiencing the two worlds, side by side prompted a violent clash within myself. to witness such suffering, as i did in the hospital setting. such under-attended suffering. and more suffering directly caused by under-attention to our patients. under attention, because the system has no capacity to afford them what it purports to offer - health care. and many, oh so many, slip thru the cracks. and often time a nurse is one of the few that try to grasp hold of these few specs that are quickly getting flushed down the drain. another porcelain heart breaks with each one which the tide sweeps away from grasp.

many nurses, perhaps, never considered their practice and all its rich and varied encounters in this light. indeed, its taken me years - and a firm decision to abandon the profession for good - to allow myself to see things in the light. each suffering phase brings metamorphosis, tho one only sees that as one emerges from the other side of the dark forest of anguish. to pinpoint what metamorphosis .... perhaps may honour the patient and their suffering. suffering has a purpose. i wonder what i will find if i explore my nursing career with that lense on my scope?

on the cusp of change?

[written yesterday]

i feel some strangeness seeping into me. like - the strangeness of change. i watched oprah yesterday [wednesday]. she had the dinner of a lifetime for sydney poitier and 7 guests. a touching event. frought with emotional and spiritual intensity. i am feeling this .... thing in me ... this thing that senses what others do not ... that senses what, physically cannot be senses. it grows ever stronger. the tears of another -- quickly become mine.



when i spend these tiny periods of solitude, i discover little bits of myself. like ... why people intimidate me so. being around them ... i find so overwhelming. i feel every molecule ... every electrical impulse from every cell. i feel their very essence and core. i am beginning to feel as though nursing denuded my soul by causing this .... sensory thing that lives inside me .... to explode exponentially inside me.

this thing ... its so very underdeveloped and immature. the feelings that manifest themselves in my sensing ... they get tangled up .... imagine a large, matted clump of hair. and for those of us with a long, wild mane, imagine how painfully slow, delicate and difficult de-matting this clump becomes ... as it grows.



i must read about the emperors in antarctica.

i cannot focus. maybe the emperors will help

on the cusp of change

phrases i like, plan to use sometime:

"... flashes of sulphur yellow ...."

"... ablaze of white ..."

"... feathers, slicked down ..."

" ... delegation of birds ..."

well. i am here. and not en route to the train station, as i imagined myself @ the beginning of the week. sim was right. when she told me that, once i made my decision, i would feel absolutely ecstatic. i do. i feel ... soooo excited. first time in my own bed for several months. with all my furniture. no more living outta bags and boxes. we will all be together for the first time in a couple years.

i feel some strangeness seeping into me. like - the strangeness of change. i watched oprah yesterday. she had the dinner of a lifetime for sydney poitier and 7 guests. a touching event. frought with emotional and spiritual intensity. i am feeling this .... thing in me ... this thing that senses what others do not ... that senses what, physically cannot be senses. it grows ever stronger. the tears of another -- quickly become mine.

when i spend these tiny periods of solitude, i discover little bits of myself. like ... why people intimidate me so. being around them ... i find so overwhelming. i feel every molecule ... every electrical impulse from every cell. i feel their very essence and core. i am beginning to feel as though nursing denuded my soul by causing this .... sensory thing that lives inside me .... to explode exponentially inside me.

this thing ... its so very underdeveloped and immature. the feelings that manifest themselves in my sensing ... they get tangled up .... imagine a large, matted clump of hair. and for those of us with a long, wild mane, imagine how painfully slow, delicate and difficult de-matting this clump becomes ... as it grows.

i must read about the emperors in antarctica.

i cannot focus. maybe the emperors will help.

amused

i just googled my maiden name.
found out its persian
for "word of god" or "divine command."
no, i'm not persian.
amused, rather.

i am so excited.
i get to sleep in my bed
for the first time in six months
in a matter of days.
my family will be reunited
for the first time in 2 years.

i will see martin tomorrow evening.
i want to see that look of surprise
on his face.
can't wait.

EDIT: something of interest ... it really deserves its own blog post. but for now .... read this. i laughed (quietly) out loud when i read some key sentences in this article. i will not say more. just read all about how religion DOES NOT necessarily make humans better people. haha. now that amuses me. greatly!

working IT out

ok. am writing this to work out something. something that just screams inside my head. something that won't shut up inside my head. perhaps it seems ... trivial. but its screaming inside my head. and i want it to stop. so .... here goes. it makes me nervous even to articulate this stuff. but i must.

they made the travel arrangements. stupidly, i trusted them when they told me flights unavailable to get us home on friday. what reason did i have to disbelieve? i mean, really? at that time - none. so i accepted what they told me. i accepted that return on saturday was the best that could get done.

and ... @ that time no moving arrangements for us had gotten set. at that time, the hunt for a place continued. so ... at the end of last weekend, we got confirmation of a place. and, we all know securing the actual place - its but a small part of the whole moving process. integral, but small. there's the matter of moving all the stuff - ie. truck. and, yeah, how easy we can get that truck in the last week of march. haha. so ... beggars, cannot be choosers. and so the truck got booked for friday afternoon and evening.

recall - this is when i would still be in whitehorse. so ... motivated by the brand new life circumstances that presented themselves to me ... i decided i would check for myself. check the airline, i mean. so ... i went to the Air North website and checked if i could book a one-way flight from whitehorse to vancouver friday am. no problem. and so i checked how many staff members got scheduled to go on this trip. a total of 8. so i tried booking a flight for 8. no problem. then i tried booking a return flight whitehorse-vancouver, with departure thursday am (original time) and return friday am. no problem. and then i see, the small print [a lover of the small print am i] flight changes possible for a $40 change fee and the requisite fare difference.

so ... WHY WERE WE TOLD 'NO FLIGHT AVAILABLE?'

i dunno.

so ... why am i so pissed off about this?

i dunno. i feel duped. like someone's screwin with me. like -- do i really look THAT stupid??!! i feel ... outraged ... infuriated. for days, possibly weeks, i have waited ... waited .... for an excuse. this job has presented me with many. repeated exploitation. continuous disregard for employees. complete and utter disrespect ie - attitude - as in lets humiliate employees who seem slower to learn in front of the whole group - as in lets bully them, pressure them, exploit them some more and set some targets they cannot physically meet - as in a 6 am meet time @ the office on a sunday am (transit here gets no one anywhere @ 0600 on a sunday - it is NOT 24 hours.) i have dismissed them, in the name of moderation and tolerance. now -- i feel somehow differently about this. deception - i cannot tolerate. it makes me think about how all that humiliation, and arrogant disrespect triggers so much upset right to my core.

it sends me into that dark, negative funk. i wake up angry. oh so angry ... for all the negative energy swirling around that place of employment. forgive me for saying so ... but it seems like everyone that works there ... everyone that stays there for any length of time ... anyone that acquires any sort of power in their jobs with this company .... they all metamorphose into FUCKING PRICKS.

how badly do i need this job? i really feel at a loss. do i honour a commitment to someone who has fucked me over? my conscience tell me sort of. but ... what really are my priorities here? chasing a job that will require me to miss 2 days of school? missing the move into our new place and totally deserting martin to all that?

i do not recall making a vow to honour my employers. any of them. i do, however, recall making a solemn vow, in front of a crowd of many whom i still have in my life, to martin. so ... where does this leave me?

i am at a loss. honestly and truly. writing this has somewhat elucidated the dilemma. but not the appropriate response i might take. i find myself wishing i were 6 years old and someone would tell me what to do. really.

perspectives

[1.] two families - one of them a 60-something yr old couple - lost their houses and all possession inside to a landslide in mission, bc. as a result of our latest deluge rain, coupled with the fact that natural springs run in that land underneath the houses, the houses became dangerously perched on the precipice behind their properties - overlooking a creek - when their foundations gave way. residents did not regain access to their homes to retrieve any possessions. insurance does not cover acts of nature. the houses got torn down, while their owners watched, helplessly. the main who operated the construction thingy that destroyed the homes felt .... saddened that he hadda trash someone's home.

[2.] seven years ago a man lost his wife - 7 months pregnant - when her car got rear ended by some man driving @ over 120 kph. a 7 month pregnant woman, killed en route to shopping for her unborn baby. ironic. and cruel. the man who killed the woman? alive and well. and epileptic that lied about his seizures to get his revoked driver's license back.

[3.] princes harry and william may have the world as their oyster. but they have no diana. i wonder why that reporter/photographer was surprised at harry's reaction to the latest intrusion, given the paparazzi's involvement in their mother's death. i wonder if sick paparazzi curiosity will destroy these two, also.

[4.] baby dannie-lynn may be one rich little girl, but she just lost her family. and her mother, who wanted so much to be like norma jean baker, died from an accidental OD of exactly the same drug that killed norma jean. chloral hydrate.

sooooo ... ? what's the point here?

be careful what you wish for ... its really best not to complain. because, when you think about it ... we got nuthin' to complain about. NUTHIN'. its time the world started to see itself in positive language and perspective. like -- don't tell me what you can't do ... don't like ... wish you could change ... tell me what you can do ... do like ... and what you CAN change.

and .... wanting?
as in the covetous sort of want
that makes a human
spiteful and jealous?

its the worse sort of complaining.

get your FREE complaint free bracelet here.

the idea being, ya wear the bracelet on the same wrist for 21 days (apparently that;s how long it takes for humans to form a habit) and whenever you notice yourself about to complaint or complaining you move the bracelet to the other wrist and start your 21 days over again. the aim's to wear it without changing wrist for 21 days in a row. to change a person's thinking perspective ... and hopefully make said person complaint free.

interesting huh? i know this sort of stuff works. martin always has coached me to use positive-oriented language (ie avoid use of not, don't, can't in favour of language with more positive connotations). it changes one's thinking ... to have to change the way one articulates oneself.

try it. just .... reach out and try it! i dare you. i will.

photo by flavio cb -- flickr creative commons

smiling heart

i will miss a little brown pigeon. really miss her.

i am tired.

once again, we are moving in my absence. martin - left to move the furniture and boxes without me.

i am thinking about a lot of dear people - so many different aspects of different lives of those i love and cherish - all at once. its like a kaleidoscope - the kaleidoscope of life. it colours my days and blankets my nights. you are all with me, even in your absence. most especially in your absence.

i watched him walk down the hall this morning @ 0520 hours. knapsack on shoulder. the next time we see each other will likely be @ our new place. wow. neat.

i thought so many words ... potential words to put here. they just won't come out right now. i must write winnie's story. must. she came to the window sill. when i came home this afternoon @ 1500 hours, i found her perched on her sill, waiting. watching. she's unique-looking. lovely. smallish. fiesty. and i love her. she's a brown pigeon. with some mottles of white on her wings. and a dash of metallic, iridescent purple blended into her collar. and she's got a patch of apricot/tan on the top of her head. her legs and feet are red and lovely - as pigeon legs and feet go. she likes plain, stoneground corn tortilla chips. she also likes tiny pieces of fresh bread. and she'll tolerate BBQ chip. but they're not her fave, fer shur!

just thinking of her makes my heart and soul smile.

treasures from AP

some candy for your eyes
and some food for your mind, spirit, soul

on this monday morning --

the first monday of spring 2007? really?

(honestly -- wow)

8love to y'all!7

psssst - have place and all moving arrangements secured.

moving friday

how relieved do you think i am? [*WHEW!*]

the best part?

moving takes place while i am in whitehorse

i can hardly wait to sleep in MY OWN BED!!!

[it has been ..... almost 5 months and my lumbar spine's feelin' it!]

and .... the sad part?

leaving my precious little pigeon friend, winnie =8^((

losing to renewal

i have spent a great deal of today struggling with this funk that descended upon me sometime during sleep, last night. melancholy. of impending change. impending absences. losing a way of life i've come to equilibrate for the past 6 months or so to gain 'my life' back. my life? isn't it this thing that's being twisted and shifted on a violent unrelenting wind? i wonder. its all necessary, of course. i wonder if its a flaw in my personality to consider all the losses of any situation with all its benefits and associated joys.

martin will leave tomorrow for 3 nights and 4 days. he returns thursday evening. i leave thursday morning and return saturday sometime. we move on my return, i suppose. assuming a truck makes itself available during this week that leads up to the 1st. i do not want to give up pot. reduce. but not give up. the prospect makes me shudder with dark sadness. and the fact of this occurrence makes me feel so inadequate. i feel the fierce resistance of our spirits to martin's impending departure. we too, so separate, yet so intertwined of spirit and soul.

i have struggled to keep despair and doom at bay - so as not to let it seep into my soul and make my decisions for me. its a fight - like jacob's fight with the angel - with himself. second by second. i think of silly things i will lose because of moving from here. seeing the pigeons outside my window - in particular the little brown pigeon that i call 'winnie' ... i will miss a pigeon. and the cries of the gulls. and .... proximity. i will miss proximity.

i guess this heavy feeling that's flowing over me like a strange rain .... i guess its fear.

FEAR. i fear.

today

words breathe
and the truth shatters illusions.
mind shatters darkness.
time - but a breath
between the winds.

from tree of dreams, by lynn andrews. yes, i am still reading that book. i wish to take an evening this week and just spend some time. curled up early in bed, with my book and my pencil/sketchbook. of course, the laptop's already right by my bedside. martin quips that he should have a laptop on his chest - riiiight. and i would get a lot of typing done then? NOT.

susan's posts about her life in the drug netherworld made me think about addiction. even more so than i already have. i am an addict. a pot junkie. honest and true. a functioning one. i am not sure i want to possess the desperation of an addict. but ... i wonder if its a trait that some of us simply possess. i wonder why its ok to have the same addictive relationship with a job, or a career, or with money. our society uses words such as 'enterprising ... good work ethic' in reference to such behaviour. but, in reference to a socially unacceptable life element, its destructive. it seems sort of a double standard to me. just an observation.

well, we have found a place. just under the wire. as usual. i admit, i began to crumble early this morning while awaiting a phone call from our prospective landlord. despair. it grabs us by the tail and then won't fucking let go. it seized me. i began to come up with a plan to execute just in case we could not find a place by month's end. i began to fret. and right on cue, before the fretting escalated, the phone call arrived. relief. of sorts.

i have felt sort of burdened by all this . moving here to vancouver has taken a heavy chunk out of me. and from martin, too. i think of him as my rock. but he has a frail rock, too. not without his addictions, anxieties, depressive swings. i have felt him crumbling of late. i know he feels underutilized in his current work situation. i know he thinks i should work more. i wonder if he understands we i have not. well, aside from the scheduling difficulties. i wish i really did not have to work while studying. when i am so busy that i have no time to breathe i become terribly messed up. its like the pressure of it all consumes me.

i have never really recovered fully from nursing. it took something from me and i never got it back. i entered nursing so that i would have some one to look after when my son 'went away.' that is why i chose nursing. to try to get back what i missed ... what i lost ... what i constantly sought while mothering him .... through some other means. i think that's what brian (the anomalous social moron from athens, georgia with which i 'on-line-trysted') was all about, too. an attempt to get what i lost.

i most learn. what's lost - its lost. to spend so much time fussing over what's not there means one fails to see all that exists there! and to run to g-d's green acre just to try and recoup it ... really that's tantamount to running from the reality of loss. running. the chase. it occurs to me that the chase stops if we stop running. and also, often, oh-so-often, we have not lost nearly as much as we think. i expended so much energy and time mourning the son that's no longer here, i almost forgot about that one that's still here.

i face quitting pot for the time being (starting tomorrow) with much silent trepidation. i have no choice about not smoking it - no money buys no drugs. simple as that. and plain as i can make it. however, i do not like that the prospect of having none seems like such a thorn in my side.

i want to write about the drug netherworld that i have seen here, in vancouver. i want to write about being a nurse that's a drug addict. and about the incompatibility of the two. i want to write about how anger, and blame - its sabre - blinds us to the truth of reality.

but not tonight. not tonight.

ideas for poems [& for living, i think!]

a lonely pigeon, in the rain, @ night, perched on a windowsill and looking inside a brightly lit, frosted window. clutter filled the sill on the inside. so much so that the insider's view of the pigeon got blocked. but ... the pigeon could see past the clutter enuf to see warmth and vibrance there. and feel her solitude, festering like a slow burning wound.

~~~~~~~~

pigeon so patiently, and faithfully awaiting night's end. as darkness descends, she cosies herself on the sill. and waits. patiently, knowing. and even in the deepest, most visceral stalk of darkness, when the vibrant light of the sun seems so distant, she waits. she does not despair. she waits. and watches. and does not lose faith. she knows.

the failure of rain

the failure of rain?
"eh?"
why? rain's so perfect in every way!
"ahhhh - but one, my sweet."
what's that?
"it fails to lift my spirits
when they require such."

its raining torrents from the sky. the heavens gave us a reprieve of about 34 minutes. and then they opened up again. torrents of rain. dancing on the old wrinkled tin of the downspouts. large drops of rain slap themselves onto the shingles outside our open window. the melody i have heard for days. spring has arrived. oh, i know it has! it has chased that nasty, damp winter chill from the breezes here. and it has brought with it a symphony of pinks, alabasters, greens, reds, and yellows. and some other colours i've failed to mention, no doubt. and the ducks! a very sassy looking mallard, with his lovely graceful mate. they've come home.

coming home. when do we come home to ourselves? why do we run, so? what's so terrible, so horrific, that we must drown it out by meddling with destructive forces? by tempting the devil inside ourselves? when do we embrace ourselves? for the little graces and joys of our SELF? why so quick to self judge? to completely throttle one's own feeling of worth? why take such heart in errs, and not so much in victories, graces and joys? just wondering out loud. as i build my 40 acres.

i did not complete to assignment. i mean, not really. the instructor gave me a 'sample' ... yeah. when i asked him to take some time with me and walk me thru the stuff i don't get, he gave me a sample. and told me to review it. and compare my own. and then ... if i had any questions ... uh-huh. riiiight. i get the hint. and it only took me a hour or so to figure out just exactly what i should do with that sample. and i handed in the assignment. and said, "it helped me finish on time. i do not know any more than i did before, however." and made my retreat.

i felt like crying. i felt like a failure. sure, i will get an almost perfect score. but to my own self, i failed. and i felt slighted, quietly, for the brush job he gave me. its like ... he did not want to take the time with me ... the way he does with the others. like .... a barrier exists between us. a sort of 'remains of the day' barrier to communicating. @ times like this i tell myself i am overreacting and confabulating. but ... i really sense some psychic/chemistry-type energy there. i do not know what that's all about. but i hate it if it impedes my learning.

i gotta quit pot on monday. i don't wanna. but this time i gotta. its getting way out of hand. its ridiculous. its too costly @ this time. and i feel like that sleep paralyzed person that wakes up in the midst of a deep sleep and can't move her body. its humiliating. frustrating. its the failure of rain.

classification of harm

"The exclusion of alcohol and tobacco from the Misuse of Drugs Act is, from a scientific perspective, arbitrary," write Nutt and his colleagues in The Lancet.
from: washington post

a study, published in the Lancet (a very respected medical journal out of UK - ie its not the national enquirer!) proposes to replace the ancient and ridiculous (and quite class-driven, really) existing classification of 'harmful' substances with one that has scientific backing. interesting, huh? essentially, the researchers designed a ranking of drug harmfulness (20 drugs, such as heroin, cocaine, etc) based on input from psychiatric, medical, legal experts. researchers considered three dimensions of drug harmfulness:

1. the physical harm to the user
2. the drug's potential for addiction
   
3. the impact on society of drug use.

the results?

heroin and cocaine came in 1st and 2nd, respectively. following this - barbituates and street methadone. then alcohol (coming in 5th). tobacco came in 9th on the most harmful list. cannabis? 11th. somewhere near the bottom (not specified in the article) - ecstacy.

just an FYI sorta post.

**a note about cocaine and heroin. ok. i put my 'former nurse's hat' on for this one - bear with me. personally, i think cocaine should be listed as the most dangerous drug. i think the experts have underestimated its harmfulness in society and to the health of users, who likely underreport. lemme demonstrate why with a little parable.

PART 1. dude does heroin. dude ODs. dude stops breathing. dude's heart stops. dude gets revived by paramedics with oxygen and stimulant drugs - ie narcan to reverse the opiate and then others stimulants, if needed to restart the heart.

PART 2. dude does cocaine. dude ODs. dude's heart stops. dude dies. nothing will revive dude, since the cocaine has overstimulated his heart to death, and stimulants are what we use to revive asystole (ie non beating) hearts. meaning - the heart that has stopped d/t cocaine use cannot be restarted. we did not just have a power failure here. we are talking the circuitry is fried. and cannot regenerate itself. read: THE END.

so .... NOW do you get why cocaine is soooo dangerous? lol. like you knew, intuitively before. but - seriously, its more deadly that most realize. (pssst - this here's one of the few little useful facts i have retained in my brain cells from taking that $400 TNCC course a couple years ago!) **

i will have this weekend to visit blogs that i have missed visiting this past week.
see ya soon!

psssst - i have a wet mangey little pigeon friend. her pics are posted in the montage blog. take a look. i write a more detailed story maybe tonight or tomorrow.

~a letter from india~

i received a letter from india late last week. its lovely and lengthy - just the way i like to receive a letter from a friend. this week's a crusher for me: quarter-point (of my studies) evaluation - a la major, mutherfriggin project! no kidding, the higher order thinking required to complete this by the deadline exhausts me. so - here to entertain you while i fuss with my school stuff - my friend, Anupam (an excerpt from his letter):

"Explosive growth of population, rapid industrialisation, and urbanisation. mindless annihilation of flora and foliage, pushing other species of life to the brinks of extinction -- where shall we stop? Perhaps not until we've ensured the demise of civilisation. Roxx, at times i feel that the modern epidemics like AIDS are cures from nature - her own way of counter-balancing population explosion. Science, perhaps, has given us knowledge, but took away wisdom. As a species we have gone insane, tirelessly running after material pleasure. i am not saying that spiritualism is the panacea to all our maladies. But to marginalise philosphy and humanities as disciplines in our pursuit to attain technological excellence will prove too costly."

i will let y'all chew on that one ... while i flutter and fuss. lemme know what ya think, @ least!

i thank y'all for your comments. i will address them all friday evening, when i can breathe again.

~EDIT: WHEW! first assignment - its done! i am takin a break now!

just posted some surrealish-weird pics here - so CHECK IT!

i will be back later ...~

welcome to my jungle

written 5.03.07 and not posted
a sane-looking man with white hair shouting out to the street about concentric circles and disappearance of the human race. the groaning and grinding of a diesel engine. a staccato melody only motor coach or new flyer would compose. the growl of a pepsi truck. the garish, brassy, high-pitched whine of construction machinery. constant. unyielding. for @ least 8 hours per day.

the brassy hue to this noise hurts the exposed nerves of my decaying molars. i run my tongue along the caps of said teeth - an attempt to soothe my dental viscera from the brutal, offensive jarring. my cerebral cortex feels clogged. so much sensory input. each molecule of space, infused with sound. no silence in which to bathe my weary axons and dendrites in my sacred solitary moments.

the temperature display says 21 degrees celcius on this day, @ 2.28.46 in the afternoon. i convince myself someone mixed up the 1 and the 2 and the temperature should read 12. i am wearing a scarf and my wool coat. and i still feel the chill. i cannot imagine its 21 degrees and i'm dressed like this!

i had a dream

i dreamt that my 'real' programming instructor came back from india, where he has been these past 6 weeks, burying his father. i dreamt that the substitute would not be here today. honest to betsy! that's my story. and ... so i mosey into school today, and who do i see, sitting in his desk? my 'real' programming instructor. in the flesh. i had no idea when he would return. or that yesterday was going to be the last time i ever see that other dude. no clue.

*can we please play the spooky twilight zone muzik?*

i seriously think i am mildly psychic or somethin. maybe most of youse think that's bull crap. i'm not so sure. i think the paranormal exists. in some form. this sort of stuff happens to me a lot. too much for coincidence to take full responsibility.

i have some things rattling around in my head ... heart.

the cactus and the rain

asleep, i say to you,
let your dreams wake you up enough

for you to see
how the dreams can heat you

some truth in the unconscious
waiting to be understood

repeats itself in code,
cycles through your being

here to tell you
here to teach you

something you need
to know

~jack crimmins~

i am tired. feeling like those boxing gloves that time and the elements have deflated, somewhat. the doe cannot sleep. something keeps her awake @ nights. and prevents her from assuming a truly peace-filled rest. the doe wants the red coyote to leave her dreams. it feels cold here. the sun shines about three times a day. but, alas! she teases us - gives us only a mild taste of her warmth and only for a few minutes @ a time.

i am down to my last umbrella. i started out this winter with three! well, @ least my shoes are waterproof. i miss the sun. i think i have season affective disorder. in about a month's time i will have reached the completion point of the first quarter of my course. [its another brick in the wall, anyway]. i have to find a place this week. i do not feel like it. i feel like curling up with a book, some popcorn some hot chocolate and the remote control and just getting square eyes watching TV.

tree of dreams - reprise

"these plants, when they are growing, are not mixed up with anything. they aren't trying to become a rose or the poplar tree that is sheltering them, or anything else. they're just what they are. now people - we get confused. we get mixed up with things, and when we do, we tend to lose our way. we get all wrapped around something, like a vine, and we think its the truth. we think its the truth because its bigger than we are, maybe we think its better than we are, because we are not worthy. its like a parasite living off of something. instead of two trees standing in the same shade, we become interlocked, interwoven with ideas that don't belong to us, teachings that don't belong to us."

"but to learn ... sometimes you have to wrap around something to learn it, don't you?"

"there are two ways to wrap around something. one way is to suck it dry like a parasite that lives off of its host until the host is dead. and then what does it have? nothing. it usually dies. that's one way. the other way is to be of service."

~yet another excerpt from the book~

pink blossoms @ nite

picture moved to my new foto blog

taken saturday nite,
in the vancouver art gallery 'park' -
near the olympic clock

it was raining.
the blossoms looked lush.
its still raining.
and - they still do.
it will rain here for days.
i am keepin' on the sunny side.
just like june carter says.

tree of dreams

All the little pieces of life, seemingly unimportant, gradually lead to a realization of truth. it is rarely a singular event that leads us to truth. instead, its rather like a circle made up of small experiences. power is found in the center . you must circle power in order to find it and bring yourself to the center, to the essence of what you are trying to learn.

[the sharp edge of wisdom can sometimes cut to the bone. the lessons of such wisdom] do not always seem obvious, and as is so often the case with anything meaningful, they are sometimes difficult or painful to learn...the process of learning in this life [never ends...vulnerability allows truth to exist completely.]

originally uploaded @ flickr

the above -- its an excerpt from a new book i picked up, serendipitously, @ book warehouse this afternoon: tree of dreams, by lynn andrews. its a spiritual book, and in it, the author draws a parallel between the life cycle of a tree and one's own life. just some of the section titles include: when the trees make their leaves; when the trees blossom; when the leaves turn gold; when the when all the leaves have fallen and the trees begin their winter dreams.

i can hardly wait to sink into the foliage this book appears to offer.

i will let you know .... what its all about ... when i have finished.

still working on writing letters that need to go with the packages i am sending out to a couple of you. still owe a few of you emails. still working on my silver harbour post. and some other posts that i have scratched down in the little pink book i carry with me everywhere. physical energy level felt low today. but spirit soaring sensibly in the sweet and sometimes infinitesimal splendor of life. wishing i was closer to most of you. close enuf to sink into your couches, and share a mug of hot cocoa while just hanging out.

enjoy the weekend, y'all!

EDIT: a 4 column template for blogger.
sorta proud o' this one so
i am shamelessly promoting it here.
check THIS OUT!!! [click here]

a slice of my day

it all started this afternoon, after i'd decided i'd had enough of C#. i needed to go to marks work wearhouse and get me a pair of 'duckies' -- those are waterproof shoes, for those of you that don't know WTF i'm talkin' about.

so - annnnyyyyywaaaays - i went. and i bought. and then i puttered around kitsilano (my old neighbourhood, affectionately called 'kits' by us locals) for the afternoon. saw some flowers ... some very, very early cherry blossoms ... then ... visited the ocean! ahhhh .... ocean. first time @ the dog beach without my beloved pooch (since he died last august). i felt him, trotting alongside me. the feeling of him, stroking my heart, made my heart smile. i had such a sweet day - here's a sweet slice it, just for you ... and you ... and you!

if you scroll down to the end of this post, you will see the slideshow i made from some of these pics, complete with ocean-waves background sound!

FYI - this slide show i made in iphoto on my brilliant ibook. the sound is a sound recording i made, on my cell phone, of the surf-tide, that i imported into itunes and then added to the slideshow (yeah - kewl! you can do that! makes me wonder: 'why does anyone have a pc?').

pics/vid moved to the foto blog.

lupin and the wolf

the snow loomed heavily on the road ahead. the rockies - craggy and sugar-coated - began to take height. the road ahead - and ascent into the heavens. how much closer to heave could one get? as his neurons executed that thought, his eyes spotted something quite remarkable. just as he looked out the window to see the distant, now darkened sunset, he saw it. a wolf. standing at the edge of the pine brush, basking in the glow of the almost full moon. the wolf wore a coat of brindled gray. and sported a large, bushy tail. lupin knew it could not be a fox. a fox ... its far smaller than a wolf. and .... a fox ... does not live nocturnally. no one else in the van saw the wolf. only lupin. and he wondered. just what that meant.

young 'uns - our sweetest blessing!

i felt a twinge of ... nostalgia ... for the little boy that once animated my now-21 year old son, as i counted the dinosaur-type stuff in the science world gift shop early this morning. logan had this absolute passion for dinosaurs. absolute. and ... counting all the games, figurines, plushies, etc ... reminded me how much fun an 8, 9, 10 year-old boy can be. and what a handful! and ... all those questions asked! that insatiable curiousity. like - going on safari each and every moment of each and every day. what a joy and a blessing children are ... not just to their parents ... but to civilization as a whole. and ... (mostly to their parents) what teachers, too! oh - the lessons learned! i treasure each and every one!

logan is 3-and-a-half years old in this pic.
(check out that hair! lol)

here are some beautiful pics i found ...
and hadda share with y'all. ENJOY!

yes - its a tiger cub with a couple of baby orangutans!

doesn't it look like they're havin' fun?
don't you just want to pick them up
and squeeze them? (uh-huh!!)

simply ... adorable ...


PS - still working on the silver harbour story ...
just so ya know (i haven't forgotten!)

EDIT 3.3.7 - just after i published this post ... logan showed up @ my door, with a much prayed for and desperately needed gift (the green stuff - $). what a son i have, who lives so simply (like a yogi) so he can share more with others.