Testing, 1, 2, 3!

OK, I'm not a Techie, but I do have my own Brain Trust at home and I have utilized him to set up an e-mail subscription option to my blog. Upon his request, I am posting this blog to test run my new subscription feature.

We both love the Big Bang Theory TV show. At the end of each show, there is a Chuck Lorre vanity card that you can only read if you are a true fan of the show (or a very fast speed reader). For only a true fan of the show would either record the show or goggle it so that they can read the vanity cards. We do both.

The following vanity card gave me pause to think ...

CHUCK LORRE PRODUCTIONS, #427

I went to the movies today. While standing in line to buy a ticket I noticed a sign on the ticket booth window that indicated I was eligible for a senior discount. For some reason I was surprised. I don't know why. I'd been eligible for quite some time, but until that moment I'd never once considered availing myself of this somewhat dubious perk. Anyway, I jokingly pointed out to the young girl in the ticket booth that I was indeed old enough to be treated as a senior. She nodded and proceeded to give me the discount. I asked if she wanted to see proof of age. She glanced at me, shrugged and said, "Nope." The movie was a comedy, but I was in no mood to laugh. I just sat there and sulked until I fell asleep.

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1st Aired: 24 Oct 2013

Want to read more vanity cards? Go to http://www.chucklorre.com/index-bbt.php?p=427  

In regards to vanity card #427, I'm not old enough for senior discounts, but I do remember when the local bar quit carding me. This is how I know exactly how Chuck felt at the movies. I did pout for a moment when they refused to card me. I mean, do I really look THAT old? Then I remembered that I was on a first name basis with the bartender and so my perceived age wasn't the reason for his lack of better judgement. (For a bartender looking for good tips, will always card an older lady.) He just wanted me to get drunk and act silly. Yep, it was time to find a new bar or at least a new Ladies Night Out. Thanks Chuck for the insight!

A Lesson in When to Take a Stand

This old picture of me as a teenager has inspired the following short story. Like a fisherman's tall tale regarding the one that got away, this story is a tale that marries facts of things that actually did happen, those things that happened at various times during my life and those things that happened only in my imagination. It will be up to you, the reader, to decide which is which. Which ever it may be, you can be sure that my horse, Stockings, did teach me the value of being stubborn during the many years of our friendship. Even though this is still a rough draft, I hope that you enjoy it.

A Lesson in When to Take a Stand

The tall middle-aged man and his fair-haired daughter had just returned from the fourteen mile ride to and from the Bull Pasture after herding a few heifer cows back to the family's summer grazing spot near the east end of the long lake known as Omak Lake. Discarding their outer flannel shirts and caps, they each took a turn at the kitchen sink to wash their hands and face. Hastily, they made several peanut butter and raspberry jam sandwiches. Both grabbed a Coke from the refrigerator. The girl grabbed a partially eaten bag of original Ruffles potato chips from the cupboard as her father drifted into his den. She placed her Coke and chips on the kitchen table as her father looked out of the front window. The man's frown wrinkled his deeply tanned face as something caught his attention. In the green field about a quarter mile southwest of the house, the water had been turned off, but the hand lines still needed to be picked up before he could start the next cutting in a few days. His sons had failed to do this before they headed out with the old ski boat for their customary afternoon swim at the lake. His frown deepened when he noticed the neighbor's prized Brahma bull lazily grazing on the partially bloomed alfalfa blossoms in the waist high field. He grunted at the slender teenager then pointed at the huge gray bovine with it's long white horns which was as characteristic to the Brahma bull as the hump on the back of it's neck. When she walked over to his side and leaned over to look out the window, she spotted her father's concern. They both looked at each other, shook their heads, shrugged then went back into the kitchen to sit down at the large wooden table to hungrily eat their late lunch quietly.

"Ready?" the weary rancher asked as he rose from the table and started to put their dishes in the sink.

The weary girl felt the sores on the inside of her knees start to sting from the rubbing of the seam of her favorite old blue jeans during the morning ride as she moved. She mentally cussed to herself as she uncrossed her long legs and started to stand. The muscles in her legs protested as she slowly rose from the wooden kitchen chair and pressed her hands against the wood of kitchen table that was made from a door by her grandfather many years ago. She slowly straightened then rolled her sore shoulders back until she stood up to her own considerable height.

 "Ready." She stated as she mentally prepared herself for the pending afternoon's ride.

Silently, they finished straightening up the kitchen then walked through the laundry room which shared a door just north of the large kitchen. The make-shift laundry room/mud room was filled with dirty linen that was waiting for her to finish. The sun-burnt girl sighed quietly as she looked around for the thin bare flannel shirt and farmer's cap that she had worn earlier that day.

As she noticed the piles of clothes stacked on the floor, she thought to herself, "That'll have to wait until we get back."

To protect her arms from getting further burnt, the reddened girl gingerly donned the over-sized soft flannel shirt and cap that her father had lent to her before the morning's ride. The balding man opted to only put on his favorite worn out John Deere cap. They stepped out of the solid door that led to the covered back porch. Walking swiftly side by side, they steered southwest toward the horse tack and storage shed through a small field of waist high weeds and old dilapidated junk cars. The antique wheel-less wonders had been haphazardly laid to rust in the field many years ago. The deteriorating white-washed house that served as a storage and tack shed was several hundred yards southeast of their log home. This two-story building had long ago been affectionately nick-named the "White House" as it was the original house that the family had built over 100 year ago when they first settled on the Colville Reservation. The wood floors creaked and moaned as they stepped through the loosely hanging green wooden door located at the front door of the old house. Careful to avoid the rotting loose boards that were carelessly marked with sheets of splintered plywood, they grabbed a few handfuls of rolled oats from a burlap sack and placed them in two small rusty buckets located nearby. They also grabbed a couple of pieces of orange spindly bailing twine hanging from a nail which had been pounded to a stud in the peeling white-washed walls. They would need these items to catch the mares for the second time that day.

They had left the horses about an hour ago out in the muddy pasture a couple hundred yards from the "White House" after a rub down and a promise not to bother them again that day. To entice and catch the two mares, they each carried an old bucket with just enough rolled oats to cover it's warped bottom and some old twine behind their backs as they headed out of the front  door, closing the old door behind them as they went.

The two Appaloosas neighed a greeting to their friends. The mares spotted the familiar buckets and started to walk towards  their favorite treat. As the couple walked towards the horses, one of the ropes swum free of the girl's hold, the mares spotted the movement of the rope as it moved out of it's hidden spot behind her back. Upon spotting the orange unraveling twine, the sister horses, Stockings and Kartar, realized that the pair were trying catch them for yet another ride. At this realization, both spotted horses pulled back and started prancing around the small pasture. The whining horses easily danced around each of the riders as the humans determinedly plodded  through the mixture of mud, hay, weeds and manure of the pasture... determined to catch them.

Patience for the playful horses ran out quickly in the afternoon summer heat. Exasperated, the girl slammed down her bucket of oats, splashing her already soiled blues with more mud. Hands on her hips, brown eyes glared at the shorter muddily spotted horse with the white forehead and nose. Pointing her finger at the bucket, she glared at the horse who tilted it's head to one side, ear perked.

Angrily, the cowgirl growled, "Stockings, it's either this ... or the dog food factory!"

The puzzled horse's ears twitched. The mare paused as if to consider the girl's proposal for a moment, then flattened her ears and lowered her head. The small horse stood almost motionless as she waited for the girl to approach as her sparse tail twitched back and forth to flick away a pair of deer flies which were aggressively circling her rump.

"I thought so." the girl huffed as she stomped over to her contrite ride.

She quickly looped the orange bailing twine around the lowered neck and loosely tied it in place. Then she flickered a glance over at her silent father as she started to lead the resigned horse over to the barb-wire gate. The man smiled to himself then walked over to the taller horse with the naturally spotted blanket on its rump.

His horse, unlike her sister, had the coloring of a classic Appaloosa.  Kartar politely waited for him. His daughter often made such threats to her horse, Stockings, but he knew that she never would follow through; she had a strong connection to the mixed breed since it was born. It was their way. He followed his daughter through the gate to the hitching post in front of the old white-washed house a few yards from the horse pasture.  He followed her into the kitchen of the "White House" which had over the years been roughly converted into a horse tack room to retrieve his saddle and reins. They quickly saddled up and mounted the two weary mares.

Trotting almost side by side with the girl slightly behind, the riders headed southwest for about a quarter of a mile towards the pasture where the bull grazed lazily. The bull raised his head and looked at them as they approached then went back to his meal. He was unconcerned about the approaching group as he easily out weighed the horses and was just slightly shorter than the one that the thin girl rode. The taller painted Appy and man broke off and went further west of him as the girl and her brown spotted horse waited. He glanced over and saw the opening of the barb-wire gate. Both the girl and the man started yelling at him. He did not want to go through the opened gate that he had came in earlier. Nor did he want to be locked out of the pasture thus ending this delightful meal, so he stubbornly started to trot in a random pattern away from direction of said gate. They persisted to follow him and tried to shooing him towards the opening. So started the dance of him darting around the pasture as the horses tried to herd him back towards the gate. In the heat, the obese bull easily tired of the dance. He ran back and forth through the pasture fence, snapping barbed-wire as if it were thread. Frustrated that the horses and riders would not give up on ruining his party, the bovine decided to warned the rider and horse closest to him. He turned towards the smaller horse, then lowered his head. This aggressive action seemed to frighten the girl, but only annoy her stout horse who snorted and angrily tossed its head. Since his threat failed to slow her approach, the bull glared at the approaching mare and girl, then pawed the ground with his left front hoof. At the girl's command, the sweaty horse stopped in her tracks. The small mare snorted her frustration at him.

The girl had been riding the small mixed bred Appy for many years and she knew how to read the mare's moods by the way the horse stood, positioned her body, head, ears and mouth. She tugged at the reins when she saw the bull's threat to charge her. She was relieved when Stockings stopped, but became alarmed when she felt the horse move her mouth and roll the bit between her teeth. She started to tug harder on the reins to turn her. The little horse just bit down harder on the bit, flattened her ears and stood still. The frightened girl realized that the horse was refusing to back down, so she tugged as hard as she could, first on one rein then the other, kicking  the horse's ribs hard in an urgent plea to get out of the path of the enraged bull before he decided to charge. With the stubbornness of the horse's pose, she knew that screaming profanities and threats about the horse becoming dog food would not convince the stubborn mare to move this time.

"What now?" the terrified girl thought to herself as she looked dumb-founded at the back of the horse's head.

"Get out of there!" screamed a familiar male voice contoured with fear as her father and his horse frantically started to run towards her.

"Where am I going to go?!", she thought to herself as she desperately looked around for higher ground... only to find that in the open pasture, the horse that she was riding was her best possible way of avoiding getting hurt. Realizing that the stubborn and tired horse would not back down, she prepared herself to move with the horse. When Stockings showed her what her next move would be, she would be ready to move with it. The mare was stout like her barrel racing champion mother. She could move and turn very fast and if she wasn't ready, the girl knew that she could easily be thrown off her ride and become vulnerable to the whims of the bull. She stopped her tugging and kicking and waited for her friend to make their next move.

The bull continued to snort as he turned his head side to side, not looking away from the target of his anger. Suddenly, he lowered his horns then started his charge. Stockings lowered her head, glared at him in an unwavering stare and snorted as the girl sat quietly on her back. The man had stopped his horse short a few yard away to watch the surreal scene with a horrified look on his face. The bull ran several steps then became confused as the little brown horse refused to cower and move out of his way. Instead, the horse's ears twitched, flattened as she lowered her head. Stockings returned the Brahma's threat by pawing at the ground with her right hoof. Puzzled, the bull stopped his charge abruptly. He stared at the girl and horse for a moment.

The look on the bull's perplexed face seemed to convey his thought, "You're crazier than I am, Lady!"

With a loud snort, the bull  promptly turned and trotted towards the opened gate.

Frightened, the man barked at his daughter, "What the hell did you think you were doing?!"

Not knowing how to explain what happened, she shakily responded, "I dunno." as she stared at the back of her horse's neck in disbelief. She raised her head to glance in amazement toward the bull who was now happily trotting out of the open gate and down the dirt road that led to his home.

"As if it were your idea the whole time!", she quietly mumbled under her breath. Clearing her thoughts, she shook her head then shakily dismounted her horse as her father walked his horse over to stand by her.

Both fell silent as they led the horses over to the gate. Together, they closed it as they wearily watch the bull aimlessly trot down the dirt road towards the neighbor's property.

"I'll give 'em a call when we get back and let them know what happened to the bull. Let's go home. The boys and I will get the fence later." the father stated flatly as he watched his only daughter expertly mount her horse and slowly start to walk back towards the "White House".

He was Family ...

Sorry that it has taken me so long to do a new post. I really had to think over how to share this one. 

He was Family

Her brother was dead and she did not know how she felt about it.

As a flood of memories washed over her mind, her frustration and anger grew to an almost uncontrollable point. She fought to control her helplessness and anger as she had a too much to do to plan his funeral with her parents.

She smiled when a flash of a six year old girl sitting at the kitchen table kneading play-dough with her teenage brother, showing him how to make various animals with the colorful clay … then an image of the same girl, a few years older, playing Noah’s ark under the pin-pong table with the same young man. She was amused with the scene of  a 12 year old girl getting in trouble together with her brother when she con him into letting her drive the truck while out mending fence on the family ranch. She sighed as she heard his favorite songs warm the Christmas hearth.

Then, the vision grew dark. She shuddered when she thought of all the secrets she shared of her cousin’s multiple molestation and rapes of her. She remembered her fear on the night of his first grand mal epileptic seizure that had her running for her mother. He was soon sent to Eastern State Hospital for evaluation. She felt betrayed when she thought of the night she finally stopped her cousin’s advances by kicking him in the nuts only to have her brother rape her later that day. Years of keeping this secret silent as she was expected to nurture and watch after her brother. Remembering the pain of suppressing the hurt, fear and growing resentment as she watch helplessly as he slowly lost the fight with the demons in his head as his physical health declined … the agony of the years of trying to help their parents deal with his multiple attempts at suicide as their other siblings blissfully went on with their lives. Her frustration in know that she would never be able to confront her attacker for what he did as he was unable to comprehend how deeply she was cut.

Finally, she wrote her part of his elegy:

“He was my brother and I loved him. As part of our family, he was naturally stubborn which had served him well. 

He was a mighty Warrior, as child, he fought to keep up physically with his siblings and the rest of the world.    As a young man, he fought his demons of mental health illness every second of everyday of his life.  Those of us who stood by him in his battles felt the pain of his defeats and reveled in his victories.  As the years past the demons preyed on his physical being, taking from him that he greatly valued: The ability to share his music, the ability to speak clearly and finally his ability to fight.

Yes, my brother was stubborn:  he fought his long war with the devil right up until the very end.”

Exhausted, she sighed. She knew that she would spend the next years struggling with her mixed emotions and with the fact it was her explanation to the family about his last struggles to end his pain that helped the family, as a group, to decide to take him off life support which would eventually ended his life. Why was it that she seemed to be only sibling to have faced it all when all the others ran away into their separate lives? Why was this duty expected of her when she was the one most scarred and damaged by his illness? Why did she do it when it hurt so? 

It was simple. 

He was family. 

The Wall

Sometimes things go from "This is crazy" to " I can't believe this shit" to "You want me to take on how much fucking more?" then there a point in the madness where I laugh hysterically and say, "Bring it on! I can take more!" I love that point. I'm sitting here, having a cup of coffee and thinking about doing all over again today.

Why do you love that point in the madness, you ask? It is because it is at that precise point in the madness when I run up against the wall of  just how much I can take, that I realize that yes, I can take more ... and then I prove just that by doing it. It validates that I am stronger than I thought I am.

Of course, there is a risk when I go up against the wall that it will stop me, that I am not as strong as I had hoped ... that it can and actually will break me. Been there, done that, will probably do it again. It ain't pretty. It hurts. I bleed and fall down ... but it is how I've learned some of the best lessons around. After this happens, I have learned that it is I, and only I, that has to pick myself up and try to figure out how to get to the point on the other side of the wall where I want to be...be it  going over it, through it, under it or around it. I've got to be the one to figure out . Is it worth it or not? It is up to me to decide to keep the thing in my way or maybe, just maybe I should just blow the fucking shit up. It is at this point where I either find my way or continue to wander further down the wrong path. It is a scary time, a stressful time filled with anxiety, fear and sometimes pain. Even with loving family and friends, when it comes down to it, it is solely up me how I end up. I have to be the one to pick myself up. It is my decision whether I try the wall again or not. It is up to me alone to determines what happens next.

 I love Dr. Seuss. I love the way he says serious things in silly childlike ways that is actually meant for all. Sometimes, when I am stressed and tired, I will start to talk in rhythms. I refer to the rhyming thing of mine as "Dr. Seuss'ng". One of my favorite story books of his is "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" He was a poet, but do he know it?

"Oh! The Places You’ll Go!" by the incomparable Dr. Seuss

Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who’ll decide where to go.
You’ll look up and down streets. Look’em over with care. About some you will say, “I don’t choose to go there.” With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you’re too smart to go down a not-so-good street.
And you may not find any you’ll want to go down. In that case, of course, you’ll head straight out of town. It’s opener there in the wide open air.
Out there things can happen and frequently do to people as brainy and footsy as you.
And when things start to happen, don’t worry. Don’t stew. Just go right along. You’ll start happening too.
Oh! The Places You’ll Go!
You’ll be on your way up!
You’ll be seeing great sights!
You’ll join the high fliers who soar to high heights.
You won’t lag behind, because you’ll have the speed. You’ll pass the whole gang and you’ll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you’ll be best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest.
Except when you don’t.
Because, sometimes, you won’t.
I’m sorry to say so but, sadly, it’s true that Bang-ups and Hang-ups can happen to you.
You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You’ll be left in a Lurch.
You’ll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you’ll be in a Slump.
And when you’re in a Slump, you’re not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.
You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they’re darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?
And if you go in, should you turn left or right…or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it’s not, I’m afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up his mind.
You can get so confused that you’ll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.
No! That’s not for you!
Somehow you’ll escape all that waiting and staying. You’ll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you’ll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you’re that kind of a guy!
Oh, the places you’ll go! There is fun to be done! There are points to be scored. There are games to be won. And the magical things you can do with that ball will make you the winning-est winner of all.
Fame! You’ll be famous as famous can be, with the whole wide world watching you win on TV.
Except when they don’t. Because, sometimes, they won’t.
I’m afraid that some times you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.
All Alone!
Whether you like it or not, Alone will be something you’ll be quite a lot.
And when you’re alone, there’s a very good chance you’ll meet things that scare you right out of your pants. There are some, down the road between hither and yon, that can scare you so much you won’t want to go on.
But on you will go though the weather be foul. On you will go though your enemies prowl. On you will go though the Hakken-Kraks howl. Onward up many a frightening creek, though your arms may get sore and your sneakers may leak. On and on you will hike. And I know you’ll hike far and face up to your problems whatever they are.
You’ll get mixed up, of course, as you already know. You’ll get mixed up with many strange birds as you go. So be sure when you step. Step with care and great tact and remember that Life’s a Great Balancing Act. Just never forget to be dexterous and deft. And never mix up your right foot with your left.
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)
Kid, you’ll move mountains!
So…be your name Buxbaum or Bixby or Bray or Mordecai Ale Van Allen O’Shea, you’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way

The People Zoo

 Have you ever went to a busy store or mall and just sat to watch people? If you have, you, my friend, have been to the people zoo. Most people are in the zoo because they fail to dare to look outside their own worlds to see what’s going on in other worlds. Yes, I admit, I’m frequently in the zoo myself. However, the other day, I was just a visitor. I saw all sorts of wildlife in the zoo called "Wal-Mart". I went in just to pick up a few items. Since it was late in the day and I had forgotten to eat, I had to get a late lunch or try to drive home with low blood sugar. Don’t worry; I made the roads a safer place by eating at the Subway within the Wal-Mart store. As I ate, I sat to watch people. After watching both body language and facial expressions, I confirmed a few ideas that I developed about people over the years. Here is what I have observed:

Smiles are strong medicine. When added with a kind word or sincere offer to help, they will cure a frown or a scowl in a heart beat. Smiles are contagious and you can’t give away too many of them. Every time a clerk smiled and was friendly to a customer, the customer went away with a smile, even the distracted or grumpy customers seemed to feel better after getting a smile.

It’s important to be a kid from time to time. On the way into the store, I saw a 20ish military man using his shopping cart as skateboard as he went out the front door. He was thoroughly enjoying himself as he went. His smile met mine as he sailed by. It reminded me of the last time I played like a kid while shopping. OK, it seems like it was only last week when I chased my son around a clothing store, trying to get him to dance with me as we waiting for his sister to finish trying on clothes, but that is not the point. The point is, most of us adults don’t play enough and it’s something that we need to do from time to time.

Babies cue their emotions off of their mothers. The mother with a smile rarely has a screaming or crying baby. A frustrated or upset mother will always have a baby that is fussy, restless or crying. Sooth the mother and the baby will soon settle down. My example for this one: For five minutes, a two year old baby threw a horribly loud crying fit in the store. The mother looked lost as to what to do with her child as she knew that killing it in front of all of these witnesses would end in her going to jail. Some customers and a clerk talked sympathetically with the mother and made a few friendly comments to the baby. Soon, the mother looked less frustrated and angry and the baby began to relax. Before she was through the long line at the check out stand, the baby had stopped crying. The mother still looked exhausted, but much calmer.

Don’t judge people by first impression, give each person a chance to show who they really are.  I saw this couple come in the front door. The woman had a hard and frustrated face. The man appeared to be ignoring her by texting away on his cell phone. At first, I wondered why they were together, but then the man looked up and told the woman the joke that was just texted to him. Her face softened as she laughed. After that, I knew why they were together.

Take the time to be friendly, it’s a worthy investment. A retired lady took the time to be friendly and understanding to one of the cashiers who appeared to be having a bad day. They talked and laughed for a few minutes while she was being checked out. After the lady left, the cashier perked up. She seemed to have more energy and she smiled more. The old lady had made the clerk's day.

There are way too few visitors to the people zoo. As I enjoyed my lunch and watching people, the store’s security guard walked by and gave me a not unfriendly, but gruff “Hello.” He then walked to stand only ten feet from where I was eating my lunch. He eyed me suspiciously. From his tone of voice, the way he walked and stood, I could tell that this older man was ex-military of long service. But still, I had to laugh inside to think that I had alarmed him by my quite observation of the people in the store. I guess that by refusing to be locked up in my own cage, I was a threat to the other animals in the zoo?  Interesting. What would happen, then, if we all refused to be locked up in our own worlds?

The Vision

The following short story called "The Vision" was written in the winter of  2010, but the actual events that inspired it occurred years earlier. It took sometime before I was ready to write and even longer before I started to share this one. I guess I just had to wait until the time was right. When times are hard, I refer to the ideas here as a ship's captain might look to the stars to guide his ship over rough seas....

The Vision ... 

When my grandfather, Poppa, became very ill and was near death, I visited him the night before he past away. I knew that it was going to be the very last time that I would see him before he went. When I left, I told him that I loved him and gave him a kiss good bye. 

Later, my grandmother, Nana, became very ill and was soon on her death bed. I saw her when her time came near. Looking at her suffering, I knew that this would be the last time that I would see her alive. I refused to tell her that I loved her. I guess that I thought that she would not pass away if I didn't tell her. After she died, I felt horribly bad about missing my last chance to tell her how I felt about her.

Then, one night, as I lay between the worlds of asleep and awake ( in "the in-between" as I now call it), she brought me a vision. The vision went something like this:

Four great medicine men came from great distances to the wise Old Woman's great fire in the middle to settle their differences. One came from the East, one came from the South, one from the West and one from the North. When they arrived, the Old Woman began to make their meals. As they waited, they began to argue and bicker about whose God was the greatest.

The man from the East stated that his god, the God of Air, was the greatest because no life would exist without air. Air was within and above all.

All beginnings start in the east - from where the sun rises we begin a new dawn. Each day is a good new day with a fresh beginning, a new start. East is the direction of the physical body and newness including children and newborns. It is the time of change for all is a new beginning. New ideas and seeing the light. Change. Spring is the season when all things begin to grow and awaken. Yellow is the path of Life, to begin the walk as a warrior, to shine in all that you do. The sun rising in the east empowers each of us. The energy to do and to begin the action of the mind and heart is there.

The man from the South stated that his God of Fire is the greatest because nothing would be achieved with out warmth and passion which encourages growth. Growth in the South it is the time of Summer. From the bloom we transform into the fruit of the labors. It is the time of mid-day, the hottest part of the day, the part when the sun is overhead and no shadows are cast. Maturing and growing into an adult to be that who we are. It is the time to accept the change and learn, to understand.

Red is for fire, passion, time of fertility. The South is the place of passion in all things, sex, fertility, mating - the fires that burn within. The direction of fire, like the phoenix, we can rise from the flames, we take and rise again from childhood into being an adult in the direction of the South.

The man from the west stated that his God of Water was the greatest. All things came from the water and would not exist without it. Water can move and break the heaviest and hardest of rocks. Water can make air move it where it needs to go and it can choke out fire and it replenishes the parched earth. Water is has great power because it is the place of emotion and intuition.

Later adulthood is the time of Fall, the time of the setting sun - twilight. The daylight fades and brings a new awareness in this time of gradual change. When the darkness comes we must look inward to find the light and have courage. To understand what we see in the darkness may not be real but only shadows. This is the emotional part of ourselves, like the flowing water we must learn to go with the flow of life. The time of the West is when we learn that we are responsible to all things and to each other. It is the time to prepare, to finish things for the time of Winter is coming. We gather ourselves and family, working together to prepare for what is to come. As the place of emotions it is the place of family and love - of responsibility from our hearts because of the love. It is hard work and team efforts. Black symbolizes change from this life.

The man from the North argued that the God of Earth was the mightiest as all things are made from the earth and the earth is the center of all things. It can also choke out fire; block the water and the wind.

As we get older our hair turn white, as we come to our time of winter. White (and purple) also symbolizes spirituality. With experience and age we gain wisdom. Now we have time to rest and contemplate the lessons. North is purity and wisdom, a great place of healing. This is the time after midnight, a dream time. The time to be grounded within yourself and deep within, like a bear in a cave.

North is the place of winter. This reminds us to stop and listen. That we must have prepared for the long time of winter. Having been in action the other seasons we now rest and contemplate to understand the wisdom we have been given.

Then their arguments became mean-spirited and bitter. When the first rays of the new day came, the Old Woman quietly, but firmly spoke for the first time, "Enough!" she began. Her voice silenced the campsite. She then continued to explain that none of their gods could match the power of God, The Creator, who always was, always is and always shall be. It was in his love that God, the Creator, made the elements: air, fire, water and earth. Life cannot be sustained without all of the elements working in harmony with one another. Without the balance, life would not survive.

After the Old Woman spoke, the men began to listen to each other. Each one started to learn and grow from the teachings of the other. When each man left to return to his village, he was a more powerful medicine man than when he came to the fire for he was now a part of the bigger picture of life.

Then Nana encouraged me to work on my own medicine wheel and to find my own center and balance. When times are hard, I remember this vision and it helps me through even the hardest of times.

The last thing that Nana gave me before she left was the knowledge that she loved me, always has and always will. Even though I didn't tell her that that I loved her as much as I could have, she always knew that I loved her back. Love is love…it is always there, it always has been and will always be.

Welcome

Welcome to my new blog. The Universe has been gently asking me write my thoughts down for several years now, but I’ve been too shy to share. Thank God that shyness grows thin and a take-me-or-leave me attitude develops with age and experience. So here I am … wondering how to welcome new and old friends into the misfit world of my mind and I remembered something that I wrote for My Space on July 11, 2011…before its popularity faded away. Since I still think and feel this way, I thought that the note to old friends that I called “By the Way …” was a poignant way to start my new blog…

By the Way …

If you are reading this message, you are my friend. That means that you own a part of my heart and I own a part of yours. Please take care of that part of my heart that you carry with you. I promise that I will take care of that part you that I carry with me. If things grow bad between us, please know that I would never permanently say good bye to you, my dear friend. As my friend, you can not say nor do anything that I would never forgive or not let you take back. You are always welcome and you always have an invitation to call, write and visit, no matter what. . (BTW, I hope that it is the same for you.)

As my friend, you are included in my everyday thoughts and dreams. I love you unconditionally and that is just the way it is. We are friends. We are never truly alone as we carry part of each other where ever we go. No one can replace you or take that part of me from you. No one can replace me or take that part of you from me either. There's comfort in knowing that you are my friend. As your friend, you will always be loved, even when things are bad or when things are said that hurts. No matter what, we are connected. No matter what, we are friends. No matter what, I love you dear friend… please remember that.

Friendship is like a wild grass out on the rez, it’s everywhere, hidden in the back ground, a backdrop to the rest of life… making the wild flowers more visible and bright. As you walk through the grass, some of it sticks with you even when you get back in your car and drive off.

There are seasons to our wild grass. When it’s young and green, is flexible and healing. As it ages in the heat of the summer sun, it turns a loving pink then it settles down into the friendliest yellow as it prepares to hibernate through the cold winter snow. For some of you, our season is green. For some of you, our season is pink. For some of you, it is yellow. And for some of you, it is endearing the cold winter snow.

For those of you hibernating in the snow, I just hope that good seeds were planted before the snow hit and that I will again experience the seasonal changes with you once again.

For those of you that have endured the destruction and pain of life’s wild land fires with me, let's hope that the fire has fertilized our soil for a bumper crop of the most beautiful of wild flowers. Sometimes it takes a fire to help us reach our fullest potential. I hope that our roots had grown deep enough to endure the blaze and will come up again next spring. If our roots were too shallow to endure the blaze,   please know that I will cherish the times we shared. You are still a welcome part of my life. You are still loved. You are still my friend.

Kat