A Peaceful Death or At Peace with Death

I'm currently writing a character in my novel who is dying of a terminal illness. She knows she will die, and she has gone home to be made comfortable. She's only 35 years old. The part that makes it even more challenging to write is that she has completely come to terms with her impending demise and is at peace with the world. She only wants to experience wonderful things and the things that make her smile, in her last weeks on earth. I try to imagine how this would be, how it would feel, and I admit, it's tough to imagine. You would have to have gone through the stages of grief, acknowledged them, and set them free. Anger, denial, bargaining, etc. - you would shake their hands and bid them farewell. And how would you talk to you loved ones? The ones that will be left behind to start their own grief process from the beginning. How would you smile at them and tell them not to worry, not to be too sad, to celebrate your life and move forward? They wouldn't be in the same place as you so it would be near impossible for them to understand.

Do you think it takes a very brave person to become this way near death's end? Or do we all have the capacity to free our minds and be at peace with death?

A Fox Walks Into a Bar . . .

The concept of animal signs has always intrigued me. The idea that an action you witnessed by an animal, or just their presence, is not coincidence, but meant directly for you to derive a meaning. Maybe that raccoon that stepped out onto the side of the road and paused and stared at you is a sign for you alone. Or maybe that squirrel that jumped up on the window ledge and peered in at you is telling you something you need to pay attention to. Maybe this cricket right outside my open window tonight is not merely annoying and grating, but is singing an important song to me.

Shh.
Listen.
Watch.
Stop and think about it.

Or is it all just nature, surrounding us, and we just come across the animals at random?

I don't know, but if a fox walks into a bar, jumps up on a stool, and orders a whiskey, you had better take is as SOME kind of sign.

What's Old Is New

My family recently cleaned out my Grandparent's farm house; an extremely melancholy chore. But among the sadness there were bright spots. Spots of wonder, amazement and laughter. One thing we came upon, high on a closet shelf in their original box, was a pair of my Grandma's high heels. The original receipt was in the box, dated 1947. They were $15. My Grandparents ran a farm, they didn't have a lot to spare. So I know this pair of shoes was probably a huge deal to purchase, hence the receipt kept in the box all these years.

And just look at the style! What's old is new! Gorgeous. If she only knew this same style still graces the shelves in stores all over today :)

Venus & the Moon Are Screwing Up My Chi

Between the full moon the night before, and Venus in transit across the Sun today, I feel things are a little off. A little wacky. A little cray-cray.

According to astrology teachings, my sign is ruled by the moon. I don't know if I feel influenced by knowing that or what, but I have always been incredibly drawn to the moon. And last night when it finally broke through its cloud constraints, it was magnificent. I felt energized, I felt like I could feel the moon. And I found myself being happy, hyper and batty all night. I'm surprised I didn't howl at the moon with my Husky dog.

Tonight Venus is traveling new territory. It's a gypsy planet in the night sky. It's being watched, and discussed, and photographed.
Yet things feel off.
Human relationships are clunky. Conversations are stilted. Missed connections. Awkward silences.

The only thing to do is go to bed, dream the dreams, and see what awaits tomorrow. Hopefully a sun without a blemish, and a moon that calms down.

2 Types of People in This World

You often hear people say things like, "There are two types of people in the world, this kind, and that kind." (fill in with various adjectives and verbs) I've always liked those comparisons. I'd like to share my favorite one:

There are two types of people in this world; those who are always happy, until they have a reason not to be, and those that are always unhappy until they have a reason not to be.

I think that is a really good assessment of how you can approach life in general. And you know you know both types of people.

Some other fun ones are:

There are two types of people in this world; those who like brussel sprouts, and those who don't.

There are two types of people in this world; those who disolve into a cooing mass of babbler when a puppy is put into their arms, and those who don't.

There are two types of people in this world; those who think white zin is real wine, and those who drink real wine.

Please, tell me some of yours!!

In a Relationship . . . With the Internet

I admit I really enjoy the place we are in right now with technology and the internet. I am fascinated by the ever-changing technological advances, the new and fast-growing social media channels (hello Pinterest), and the way in which information is exchanged today. I enjoy learning and experiencing what is new out there, what I like to participate in, and what I don’t. My iPhone is never far from my side and I do find myself pretty tied to the networks out there.

But lately I have started thinking about that magical day when I will just decide I don’t need it all anymore. When I’m old and retired and my perception has shifted, there will come a day when I say, “I’m done with the technology! Unplug me!” Will I be 70? 80? I don’t know. All I know is that I think about that with a smile. I think about a time when all of this doesn’t matter and what matters is who is beside you, who is visiting you, what you did that day, what you experienced that day, and if you are happy and content.

Until then, I’ll have fun - and keep learning - because I do need it for my job and my future career. And I’ll just look forward to the day when I don’t even think about logging onto ANYthing. Instead I’ll relax, calm down, slow down, and not worry about a thing. J

When do you think you will unplug from The Matrix?

The Old Tree and The Wind

Our Tree That Fell

Last week, a freak weather system brought the strongest winds that our area has seen in a long time. This mighty wind took something from us. It blew in with a force that wasn't taking no for an answer, and took down our oldest, tallest, and biggest Spruce tree. I can't describe what a shock it was to see it gone from the horizon of our yard. This tree was special. It was on land that was one of the original homesteads in the area. It was around 100 years old and 95 feet tall. It was one of the oldest, and possibly THE oldest tree in our little town. It was a fixture of our property, a home to the birds and squirrels, and something I stared up at too many times to count.

I guess I've always gotten a little attached to the trees around me. When I was a kid, my family owned 40 acres in Mid-Western Colorado. It was all natural, the only structure being the footprint of an old cabin, and a caved in wooden entrance to an old mine. It was beautiful land and we had so many family camping trips and picnics there over the years. There was evidence that a stream used to run through it, because there was a long ravine running through the property, a small trickle of a stream during wet years, and the location of the mine was right next to all this. But what was really striking about this particular area was the huge Spruce that was perched on the edge of the ravine. It was a blue Spruce, tall, straight and majestic, much like the one in our yard. However, the tree was right on the edge of the ravine and the dirt was eroding away, and about one quarter of the root system was exposed, with the trunk of the tree just barely on the edge of the ravine.

So if you came at it from below, in the ravine, you could sort of climb up underneath the tree. You could literally climb up the roots (one even bent at a 90 degree angle and made for a step) to the base. Then you got to the edge of the ravine, and the flat shelf above it was completely enclosed all around by the low, wide branches. You could hoist yourself up on the ledge and now be under the tree on flat ground. And the area around the base of the tree was all clear except for a thick cushion of needles. So a child could fit under there and move around and play, and not be seen at all from the outside, since the thick branches brushed the ground. (Is this making any sense? Hard to describe) OR, if you came at it from above, up on the flat ground, you could walk up to one side of the tree where the branches didn't quite touch the ground and formed a natural part, and you could duck down, crawl in, and gain entrance to the secret area under the tree.

As a kid, this was a wonderful place for me. Especially as an only child who had to entertain herself. And I would for hours, making up scenarios, talking to imaginary animals, and taking special things in there with me that I would leave for the next visit. My parents and I worried that it would fall. Each time we came back, I would strain my neck to see out the car window as we came over the hill, but that big tree always stood. I worried so much about it falling that I developed this ritual that only a child would execute. Within the mine tailings was lots of mica - Fool's Gold. You could scoop up a handful and sift the dirt through your fingers and the tiny flakes would sparkle in the sun. I thought this was gold for sure. I figured gold must have some sort of magic properties, and that it could surely help the old tree stay strong. So I would cross the ravine to the mine tailings, gather two handfuls of tailings and cross back to the underneath of the tree, and carefully sprinkle the dirt and gold dust on the exposed roots of the tree. I remember doing this many, many times one summer each time we visited.

My family eventually sold the land, and the tree never fell while we were there. And at least in my mind, it never will. So when I'm sad about losing our current tree, I'll think about how my relationship with trees started and try to remember that Mother Nature says when it's time to go.

The Sad Night