Days 1 and 2

The cowboy and I left Lakeside, Montana at 7:00 Tuesday morning, April 8th. His dad was giving his niece a ride to Moses Lake, Washington so we trailed them there and had lunch with them. This was my second time meeting his dad and he's a quiet, laid-back type fella - not at all like the cowboy.

We then drove to our first stopping point, North Bend, Washington - an absolutely quaint and lovely little town about an hour east of Seattle. This first stop was one of the most beautiful of the trip. Wednesday morning we set out to find Snoqualmie Falls which we had heard about and were eager to see and it was well worth the diversion. A short, easy walk to the lookout and the falls are incredible. That's the falls in the picture above.

After the falls we headed to Seattle with which I immediately fell in love. Sometimes I really miss being near a big city with all its attendant energy and chaos. We had a few tense moments maneuvering the 5-speed pickup truck along the very steep streets near the waterfront and finding a space to park. We actually parked in one space and were then confused by the signs about whether it was a legal parking space. We asked two or three passerby hoping they might be able to help us figure it out - but no one could! The signs made absolutely no sense. Another space came open that had no signs so we moved to it and no sooner did we move than someone snatched up the space we had been in. Remember, this is all taking place on a VERY STEEP STREET with a Montana cowboy not used to driving in the city. Did I mention we were in a 5-speed pickup truck? This is probably about the time I started my "road prayers" which would continue almost unabated the entire trip. They were short and sweet. "Please don't let it hurt." Trust me, if it hadn't been for my knee making the clutch an impossibility for me, I would've taken over driving at that point, post haste! To be perfectly honest, the cowboy's driving makes me nervous under the best of conditions. Good thing I didn't know some of the terrain we had yet to travel.

We spent the afternoon exploring Pike's Market which I found fascinating and fun beyond all reason. The colors, textures, smells, sounds and sights were a delight to the senses. I wanted to spend so much money, but managed to get away with only a couple of packages of dark chocolate linguine. Yes, dark chocolate linguine. Dessert linguine. I bought the packages as gifts, but I may have to hold onto one for myself. It's just too sexy and divine. And speaking of divine - we had lunch on the pier at Fisherman's Restaurant & Bar. One thing I really looked forward to was eating some good, fresh seafood and I sure got it here. We had a mixed seafood grill in a saffron and coconut milk broth. Shrimp, crab, mussels, fish and bananas! It was a true gastronomic treat, but the crab was still in the shell. Do you know how hard it is to crack a crab that's covered in broth? A little messy, but well worth it. Below are some pictures of the market

We then drove to Shelton, WA where we were to meet up with some of the cowboy's friends for dinner and to spend the night, but we missed our connection with them and stayed in some nondescript hotel that even now fades quickly from memory.

Packing for the Trip

I knew I was going to be away for quite some time - at least two weeks - and that I would be encountering much different weather than is found in NW Montana at this time of year. I also knew I would be riding in a pickup truck and that the less I could go with the better. So I packed as lightly as possible.

I managed to pack for the longest trip I've been on in my life with an absolute minimum of baggage. I didn't realize it at the time, but along with less physical baggage, I also packed a lot less emotional baggage for this trip. You have a 50/50 chance of guessing which served me better.

I had to shop for short-sleeved blouses due to the warm weather we eventually encountered, but emotionally, mentally and spiritually, I packed just right. It was an absolutely incredible trip, but at every turn I was faced with situations that in the not-too-distant past could've ruined the entire thing. I was stuffed in the cab of a pickup truck with the cowboy for hours on end; I was meeting his entirely lovable, but pretty much totally neurotic family for the first time and I was distanced from every element that makes me feel comfortable, with no recourse. I knew when I left it could go either way - to hell or to heaven, and I knew that I was perfectly in control, or not, as to how it would go.

As is usual in life, it was a little bit of both, but the heaven far outweighed the hell. I think if we can get to that point in our lives, where we know it's up to us which way the shit flies (to be just really crude about it), we've accomplished something. I've accomplished something. Hope you'll stick around for the details.

I'm Back!

The cowboy and I rolled into Polson around 6:00 p.m. on Wednesday, 15 days and 2500 miles from the day we left. It was a grand trip, highlights of which are to follow in upcoming posts.

It's nice to see folks checked in with me while I was gone. I plan to catch up on all my blogging buddies this weekend. It's amazing how much there is to do after being away for two weeks - starting with sweeping the floor and loving up on a couple of kitties! And luckily for me I was able to resume my part-time job immediately, with the distinct possibility that it may become more in the near future.

My knee fared well as did the relationship - two things that were questionable at the beginning of the trip.

It's good to be home and back at the computer.

Roadtrip!

Sometimes things work out in a way you couldn't have planned as well yourself. This is one of those times. The cowboy's mom lives in Redding, CA and she has a couple of kayaks in her

garage that aren't being used, so he and I are going to go fetch them from her. Exploring Flathead Lake on a kayak has been a dream of mine for a couple of years - ever since I kayaked with my sister on the lake my parents live on in Georgia. Looks like I'll be doing some of that this summer now.

And for five years, since I first moved to Montana, I've dreamed of visiting the Oregon Coast. We've decided to go to Redding by way of Seattle and then the coast! I've never been to Seattle either and I'm looking forward to exploring that city for a day or two and then on to the cute little villages along the Coast, hopefully some whale watching and definitely taking in a lighthouse or two along the way. My knee will probably prevent me from getting to the top of the lighthouses, but, hey, you never know. I'm pretty pumped! I admit to being a little nervous about traveling that kind of distance while I'm still experiencing quite a bit of pain, but the cowboy assures me we will stop every couple of hours along the way and make sure I stay as comfortable as possible.

Now, if that wonderful employer of mine hadn't laid me off when he did, this trip wouldn't be possible. And if I weren't still out of work due to the surgery it wouldn't be possible. So those two things, which seemed so awful at the time, have cojoined to create this incredible opportunity.

We'll be gone 10-14 days and I will probably not have computer access, but I look forward to checking in with all my favorite bloggers when I get back. I've been having computer problems lately as well and haven't had the patience to wait for pages to load, so once again, I apologize if I haven't visited you in awhile! I hope to have many great pictures and stories to share with you when I return.

Roadmap to Holland - The Release

Gosh. I guess it's been 2 1/2 years since my friend, the Practical Vampire Slayer, invited me to join a writer's group that was getting started in our little community. She and I were working together at the local newspaper at the time and I had just begun writing after, oh, about a 30 year hiatus. That's where I met Jennifer. Jennifer had begun work on a book of her experiences with Avery, her son born with Down's Syndrome.

I'll never forget that first writer's group. My nervousness soon disappeared when I realized that the lovely woman with the golden curls would be "overseeing" us and that her heart was as golden as her hair. Jennifer is the kind of woman that immediately puts you at ease; she's soft, but her softness is encased in a strength that naturally draws others to her.

While a few people dropped out right away, we have maintained a core group of writers that meet once a month for going on three years now. I remember many a night when our whole group sat in silence and tears after hearing Jennifer read something from her "work in progress".

That work in progress is now a book: "Roadmap to Holland" has just been released by Penguin . I think everyone in our writer's group is as proud as if it were our own book - which Jennifer would probably tell you in a way it is.

Another member of our group has been blogging up a storm lately and I think you'll enjoy reading Julie at Alley-Grazer.

Congratulations, Jennifer! We love you!

A Copy of a Copy of a Copy

I wanted to wait and resume blogging when I actually felt something positive to write about, but it looks like that may be awhile down the road so I decided to just jump back in right where I am.

Did you know that lack of sleep can make you suicidal? Homicidal even? At the very least severely depressed? It's true. Just in the past month both 60 Minutes and Oprah have had segments about insomnia and how it affects the human body, brain and emotions. It's been almost six weeks since my surgery and I'm still hurting enough at night that I don't sleep through. I have gotten up to sleeping about four or five hours at a time which is a vast improvement from the night's I haven't slept at all, but it isn't enough yet to counteract the ill effects. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I were like that one woman on Oprah who gets up and cleans the house and bakes cakes when she can't sleep, but about the most I can do is wander around in a daze or do a little reading.

I've developed a lovely little syndrome called patella femoral pain syndrome. It's a common complication after ACL surgery, especially for women. The PT and I are working on it with some exercises, but so far it still hurts like a . . . . well, like hell.

In a way, thank god I was laid off right after surgery because I know myself and I would've pushed myself to get back to work as soon as possible and I think if I actually had to be somewhere every morning at 8:00, someone probably would be dead. As it is, I'm doing my little side job three hours an afternoon and even after six weeks, that's about all I can handle. Of course, some days and nights are better than others and there really is light at the end of the tunnel.

The positive side to all this is that I've been forced into an exercise routine that was sorely needed and I've lost a little weight to go along with it. Oh. Did you know that lack of sleep can also cause you to gain weight? Honestly, it can wreak a lot of havoc in a person's life.

I've discovered a lot about myself in these past weeks. I think the most important discovery is that I seem to have acquired some faith somewhere along this life path. I have faith in my ability to care for myself, faith that this is all perfect timing and faith that the universe is unfolding exactly as it should. And I have faith that I will soon be pain-free and asleep for a full 8 hours. I absolutely get that this is a just a tiny blip on the screen and that each day is a gift and an opportunity. Of course, I actually slept for five hours straight last night.

Apologies

I know it's not really necessary, but I want to apologize for my lack of blogging lately and for not visiting my regular blogging friends as often as usual. I'm still in sufficient pain enough of the time to not feel much like sitting at the computer. I do, however, want to direct you to this post. It's important.

Running?

Since you've not finished telling us your story, I don't know what it was you were running away from when you moved to Montana. Have you considered that "it" will also follow you to Bozeman or Missoula?

This comment was left anonymously on my last entry. I didn't intend to give the impression that I was running from anything as I have no desire to leave Polson and hope it doesn't come to that. However, economic necessity may prevail and if it does and all signs point to moving as a viable option, I will probably do so.

If the commentor would like to know what I was running from when I left Georgia, he/she can find part of the answer in this post. The longer answer, and what I'm realizing a little more each day, is that I was running from standing in my own power. By the time I left Georgia in 2002, I had given my power over to so many, so much and so often, there was really none left. As I have begun to learn, ever so slowly, to inhabit myself fully, to allow the innate power that I was originally gifted with to come forth and to most importantly, not be afraid of it myself, I no longer have a desire to run from anything or anyone. It no longer matters to me WHY I gave my power away so freely, or why I am finding the strength to inhabit it now, it only matters that I am.

There's a lot of talk in recovery circles about the "geographic cure". What they mean by that is that many people with drinking problems will move from one city to the next on a regular basis to leave the wake of destruction that was created. I was never one of those. As a matter of fact, I probably stayed in places a lot longer than I should have. But when I made the decision to move to Montana, I was "reminded" many times that it was probably a "geographic", as they're called. Well, maybe it was. And if it was, thank goddess. Because had I remained in Georgia under the conditions that I had created for myself there, I would likely not be writing this today. And I guess that's one thing that bothers me a lot about recovery circles. There often seems to be no room for individual circumstances, or stories, or decisions, or plans. WE have found it to be that if you move, you are only doing a geographic and all your problems will follow you. Well, I gotta tell you. A lot of them did. But not all of them. And apparently, it was enough because I no longer drink a bottle of vodka a night with a handful of pills as chaser. But that was five years ago and I can tell you for sure it wasn't a seamless cross-over.

I'm paying close attention to my body these days, and the more attention I pay, the less I drink. I realize that some will not be able to believe that. It's okay. I know. It's clear to me that the recovery movement is this country leaves no room for an individual to naturally move out of addiction unaided by the 12 steps and/or not having abstinence as a goal. But I want to tell you, I'm just allowing it to happen and it's happening.

The Beauty of Struggle

Those are the Mission Mountains which are due east from Polson about 2 miles I guess. I don't have words to explain what living in the brilliance of their shadow does for me. I always wanted to live near mountains, but never dreamed I'd be so close to ones like these. I can see their peaks from a couple of the windows in my house on a clear day like today.

I think those mountains struggled a lot against the glacier that formed them. Or maybe it was the glacier that did all the work, eh? At any rate, they are a reminder to me of the beauty that can come from struggle, whether it's the struggle of tectonic plates and ice ages, or the struggle of one human soul trying to make her way in the world. And while they don't seem to be struggling now, I'm sure there are underground movements at work on them all the while they seem to be resting.

The Electric Orchid Hunter left this comment on yesterday's post: In my opinion that book has got it all wrong. By nature, we don't put up a fight, don't expend more energy than necessary; life is all downstream from here. Situations and people like those two men are more like rocks that you wash against and end up clinging to, assuming that that'll stem the tide, prevent you from being swept over the cataract. But what these rocks actually do, is prevent you from moving at all. Clinging to these rocks leaves you marooned.

It is only when you realize that you can swim upstream unaided, that you don't need to give up and drown, or bleach and dessicate on those rocks, that you have undreamed of potential and resourcefulness, that the river of Life breaks its hold on you.

And here's my reply to him: EOH,

What a beautiful and thoughtful comment. And I agree with you. I actually believe in struggle as a positive force sometimes, a builder of character and a strengthener of spiritual and psychic muscles. When people say life can be lived without struggle, I wonder what kind of life it would actually be. But when is enough enough? And how do we get our thoughts moving again in whatever direction works for us - be it upstream or downstream? The process described in the book helped me do that.

I highly recommend checking out his blog - just make sure you've got your Webster's Unabridged handy!

I dream that more people in the world could find such an eloquent way to agree to disagree, or agree on some points and not on others, or disagree with respect. Don't you think the world would be a better place?

I'm headed up to spend the weekend with the cowboy. This is major progress for it requires a 45 minute drive which I feel I'm up for at this point. I'm wondering if it's time to leave these beautiful mountains - the opportunities in Missoula or Kalispell, or even Bozeman would be much better than what I might find here. Then again, I would have to leave those mountains and the incredible network of friends and associates I've developed here over the past 5 years. I'm glad I don't have to decide today.

Have a great weekend and I'll check in with you all on Monday.

Struggle or Paddling Upstream

If you've come here looking for an uplifting post, you're in the wrong place today.

I am struggling. Best to just admit it and get it out in the open where maybe some light will shine on it. I've been lucky that in 46 years, this knee surgery is the first surgery I've had - if you don't count dental surgery, and I don't. Intellectually I understand that a traumatic invasion of the body for whatever good reason is going to be depressing to some degree. The medical practitioners tried to prepare me for the pain and the long recovery time, but until you're actually living it, it's just a concept. Three weeks out from surgery I'm starting to get it. 8-12 months total recovery time. We're talking gradual here. Gradual lessening of pain, gradual increase in motion and strength, gradual healing. There will be no overnight miracle.

I've got some things floating around my mind that aren't helping any either. There are two men in this town that I am on the serious outs with. This is a small town - about 6,000 people. I've already run into one of them in the past week - the ex-live-in boyfriend of three years. The one who told me the last time we spoke that I was a lost cause, a hopeless case that he didn't want to have any more to do with. We broke up two years ago and for some insane reason I thought we could salvage a friendship out of the deal. The other? The ex-boss. The one who seems to have laid me off for reasons more personal than business. The one I had to threaten with calling the Dept. of Labor if he didn't pay me all the money I was owed. I've been pondering both of these situations a lot and while I'm not going into any more details here, I realize that the reason I've had problems with both of these men is because I am no longer willing to submit to the whims and emotions of despots and petty tyrants. I am no longer willing to let others dictate how I live, no matter how well meaning they may seem to be. I think this is the first time in my life I've actually felt like I wanted to avoid people. Which of course means it's something I will absolutely not do. Because I've been around and around both of these situations and while I know it takes two to tango and all that crap, I'm ok with my behavior. No, I didn't do everything right. Yes, maybe I did a lot wrong. But what I haven't done, and they both have, verbally or subtly, is to say YOU are wrong, your entire personhood is wrong, you don't deserve happiness or money or love or anything worthwhile. As much as I tell myself to move on and forget about all of it; as much as I believe that these experiences will make me a stronger person; as much as I know what's happened is much more about them than it is about me - it hurts.

Now, add to that the fact that I can't really exercise yet and I'm still in pain about 70% of the time and all the family's gone back to Georgia and what do you get? Me. Struggling. Do you ever feel like that's all there is to it? As my sister's friend, Mary, says, "What the fucking fuck???"

Before surgery I ordered a couple of books I thought would be inspirational to read while I was convalescing. "The Astonishing Power of Emotions" by Esther and Jerry Hicks, and supposedly channeled through a benevolent entity known as Abraham, is part of the popular Law of Attraction material. The Hicks' break thought processing down into really simple ideas. Either you're thinking upstream, against the current, with struggle, or you're thinking downstream, allowing the river to carry you along with its power and trusting in the outcome. Now, we can paddle upstream as long as we want, working hard, struggling, straining to keep our little boat moving upstream, or we can just decide to let go. They posit that the only place to start is right where you are, no matter how negative and depressed you may feel and try to find one downstream thought about any given situation. And they say that nothing you want is upstream, it's all downstream. I did that with the two men I've mentioned and it helped.

And on that note, here on this public blog, I release both of these men and the events, circumstances and emotions surrounding them with as much love as I can muster. It ain't a lot right now, but it will have to do.

The Soul's Companion

As is often the case, today's reading from The Soul's Companion is ever so appropriate.

In order to grow, we must struggle. Children struggle as they move through developmental stages, sorting and resorting what they learn and adapting it to new challenges. Our brain grows with use; new information creates brain growth and alters cell assemblies or particular constellations of memories. Part of struggling is working through previous stages into new ones, changing thoughts and behavior patterns, continually shaping and reshaping the self. When I am able to struggle, I can change, and I can allow others to change in my presence. I can move through stages of life without getting marooned in one because I can't face the anguish of the struggle toward a new one. Tian Dayton, Ph.D.

Just because I haven't had much to say here lately doesn't mean nothing's going on in that noggin' of mine. Hopefully, it will come out in a post soon.

The Absurdities

Is that not the ugliest thing you have ever seen? OK, not the leg, the stocking. It's a compression stocking and is used after surgeries to prevent blood clots from shooting to your heart and knocking you dead, and to keep circulation moving. But, why, I ask you, can't they make one that looks like black fishnet? I mean, really, how difficult would that be, and how much better would I feel wearing it if it were? I wonder if healing would occur more quickly if one could feel just a little bit sexy in the process, you know? I could just get one for the other leg and drive the cowboy nuts while I'm recuperating. Prime that pump so to speak.

If the stocking itself isn't absurd enough, imagine my dismay when I realized I was down to two people to help me change it: my dad or my boyfriend. Arrrgghh!!! Somebody save me from this humiliation! Funny that I don't mind the gorgeous PT changing it - must be because I know he's a professional and he's seen tons of hairy, un-cared for legs and feet in his job(remember, my injury occurred on Jan. 19th and I have not been able to reach my left foot since then!). I have PT again tomorrow and an appointment afterwards for the sutures to be removed. And even though I don't have the money for it, I'm treating myself to a pedicure afterwards and maybe a pair of black fishnets to go with it.

Yesterday, they let me switch from this leg brace to this one. The first one I have actually had to sleep with since surgery. Trust me, I'm definitely ready for something else to be sharing my bed. Honestly, can you imagine having to sleep in that thing??

I guess the biggest absurdity was receiving a pink slip three days after surgery, when I was in the most extreme pain and surely not in a psychic place to be hit with not having a job. I experienced hurt, anger, dismay, that someone I worked hard for for two and a half years felt I could be treated with such abject dismissal. And then I remembered the source. And I remembered that I had been toying with looking for another job for quite awhile, and I remembered being ambushed on the pontoon boat, and I remembered the week that I went to detox in September of 2006, which I was paid for and which got me off that awful drug, ativan, and I figure it all worked out in the end. I have acted with integrity, which is certainly not a given, but which is something I will take with me to my next job - whatever it may turn out to be. In the meantime? I'm just relaxing.

Knee Sundae with Whipped Cream and a Cherry on Top

A friend of mine gave me that card. Isn't it great? Now, I will admit to having felt picked on in the past few months, and to having been sorely tempted on numerous occasions to fall into that old yucky Victim mentality. But I've decided that whoever is doing the picking knows exactly what they're doing. Me? I'm just gonna relax.

I'm far enough away from the surgery now, and dealing with enough less pain to realize the absurdities and blessings that have occurred from this unplanned interruption in my life. My mom and sister, Pam, arrived the day before surgery. Mom flew back to Georgia last Sunday and Pam just left this (Sat.) morning. Dad got here yesterday and will stay until I feel comfortable driving myself again. They're doing me in shifts. I'm sure this is for their sanity as well as mine and is just a brilliant plan.

While I'm definitely ready for some alone time, I sure did hate to see Pam go. I've only known her for 44 years, but I learned something about Pam I never knew: in her daily life she's a school-bus driver - a no-nonsense benevolent dictator with the kids on her bus and the lung power to be heard over 20 or 30 of them. But by night I think she's a frustrated Florence Nightingale. She patiently fetched me water, food, and anything else I needed, washed my hair, did the grocery shopping, rented movies for us to watch, drove me back and forth to doctor's appointments and physical therapy, and generally took excellent care of me. And I only had to nudge her a little to keep the floor swept and the dishes washed. I'm really lucky to have the relationships I do with my sisters and I appreciate them more and more.

Speaking of physical therapy, I've decided it takes a special kind of person to deliver such torture all the while convincing you it's for your own good. I hit the jackpot with my physical therapist as he looks like this guy and despite myself I find I kinda look forward to PT. Wouldn't you? It's great to have something nice to look at when you're being twisted, and stretched, and prodded and pushed and you know you're going to hurt like hell when it's over.

You might call all that stuff one flavor of ice cream in this scrumptious little sundae I'm making. The whipped cream?

On Monday, three days after surgery, my co-workers, Peggy & Tom, showed up at my house with a letter. The letter was from my employer of the past two and a half years, and in its entirety read: "Due to seniority, you are laid off effective March 1, 2008." It had postage on it and was ready to mail which is exactly what that cowardly lion was going to do.

The cherry?

I can't seem to make myself unhappy about it. As a matter of fact, my sundae is covered with a mound of cherries on top. I'll tell you more about them in upcoming posts.

Thanks to all of my blogging friends for the great support and encouragement. It is appreciated!

I have just one thing to say

They did not exaggerate. I am not a happy camper. I hope to be back soon.

100th Blog Post

Well, this is my 100th blog post and it seems as good a time as any to review where we've been for the past few months. I began this blog as an exploration into recovery from alcoholism and drug addiction. I had been trying many different recovery modalities, but had yet to find one that seemed to fit me personally. You may have noticed that not every post, maybe not even half of them, are actually about addiction or recovery. There's a reason for that.

What I hope I show here is that there is a lot more to me than the drinking problem I defined myself by for so long. A whole helluva lot more. What I hope others with similar problems may realize is that they, too, can make the choice to define themselves differently.

One of the first decisions I made was to stop attending AA. There was a time in my life, which I've written about, when AA was a catalyst for positive change, but that time had long passed and I was only hurting myself by continuing to try and find something appropriate for me there. When I would go to AA and attempt to stay sober indefinitely, and then fail in that attempt, I would beat myself unmercifully and the deep and intense guilt I would experience was much worse on me than the actual drinking. Plus, some folks in and out of AA seemed all too eager to assist me in the lashing. So I decided to quit doing that to myself. When I stopped doing it to myself, I stopped letting anyone else do it either. I think that's called empowerment.

Some of my best friends are members of AA. In keeping with their 12th tradition, I would like to say thank you to two very special women - you know who you are.

I gave myself permission to explore the things I was really interested in and the things that I felt could lead me out of alcoholism. I had this idea that a life lived with deep passion and joy would leave little room for addiction. So I deepened my inquiry into astrology and how it could help me make sense of life. I also began work with a woman who had identified as alcoholic for many years, but who had transcended that label. She introduced me to Caroline Myss' work on archetypes which was a perfect accompaniment to astrology as astrology is really all about archetypes. I decided to explore the relationship between sex, guilt and addiction - specifically how feelings of guilt around early sexual experiences could morph into addiction disorders. Eric Frances over at Planet Waves provided a space for this exploration. I intended to write more about that here, but I haven't gotten comfortable enough to be quite that open. I maintained my spiritual practices - yoga, meditation and writing. Writing is a spiritual practice for me because I cannot hide from myself when I write. I can still hide from you if I want to, but not myself. None of these explorations have turned out like I thought they would; mostly they've turned out better than I could've imagined.

The first and most wonderful change came when I noticed that I could drink without guilt. I could enjoy drinking in a social fashion. This doesn't mean that there was an instantaneous switch to moderate drinking. I sometimes still drink too much, but I no longer beat the crap out of myself for doing it. I've observed that when I am in a difficult situation or having a hard time emotionally, I can still go into heavy drinking as a coping mechanism. And I've observed that I can stop it.

As long as I believed in powerlessness as the 1st of the 12 steps requires, I really was powerless. When I would drink under that premise, I literally felt that I couldn't stop drinking and the binges could last for days or even weeks. These binges were exacerbated by an addiction to a drug called ativan which I finally broke in September of 2006. What it feels like now is that I'm backing out of alcoholism. I like to drink. I practice harm reduction by not driving when I drink, not letting it interfere with my work, and not adding anything else to the mix. I believe as long as I am responsible to my fellow human beings, I can maintain my private life as I please. No harm, no foul. This is not a popular notion these days. At the same time, I have become much too aware of where my real joy lies to get too far away from that, which is where excess drinking takes me.

I have gained more confidence, more joy and more fulfillment from following my own path, however crooked it may look to someone else, than I ever did by trying to maintain abstinence from alcohol. Anyone will tell you that abstinence from alcohol does not equal recovery. Very few, if any, people will tell you that recovery is possible while continuing to drink. But I know there are others out there like me, who believe it is possible and who will follow that belief. Some may consider us stupid, a little crazy and even hopeless. Others may consider us courageous and ground-breaking, while most of you could probably care less one way or the other. Which leads me to the second wonderful thing that's happened for me. I don't base my decisions anymore on what someone else thinks is a good idea for me. I think they call that liberation.

A few weeks ago the woman I was working with had me make a list of the positive changes I'd seen since we began working together. Here is that list:

I've had more instances of drinking and enjoying it than I have of overdoing it and regretting it.

I've felt my confidence soar.

I've done some excellent writing.

I've felt the Universe filling me up from the inside out.

I've drawn lines in the sand with people and been utterly prepared for whatever response I got.

I've spent a lot of time letting myself move through grief.

I've created a sex life for myself that doesn't require a partner and I've also enjoyed great partner sex.

I have redefined some relationships in my life to be on a more equal basis.

I'd like to add these to that list:

I've been true to myself.

I've moved out of blaming anyone, most especially myself.

I still feel the naysayer's judgment. I still wonder if they will be right in the end - if I will ultimately move back into full blown alcoholism and possibly lose my life. And then I remember: none of us gets out of here alive. Today is the day, baby. What are you going to do with it?

And on that note, this will probably be my last post before surgery. I've added some great new people to my blogroll, so please check out: Crazed and Confused, Frankiecon, Lee's River, Rae's Confessions, and The Electric Orchid Hunter.

And oh yeah, that picture? I took it with the cowboy on top of that snow-covered moutain, on a very sweet and sacred Sunday afternoon. Peace, ya'll.

Hangin' out at the . . . . cemetary?

Yeah, this is what we do for fun in Polson on a Saturday afternoon. Actually, the Lakeview Cemetary is atop a hill that overlooks Polson Bay, the narrows and the mountains of the Mission, the Swan and the Flathead Valleys. It's one of the most beautiful views in Polson and one of the quietest spots in an already quiet town. I like to go there to think and ponder, to daydream and reminise, to pray and stand in awe. My prayers go something like this, which are the lyrics from a Joan Armatrading song I'm listening to:

They're singing secular songs in the churches

And there's not a word of God

It's all Schubert and Beethoven

Oh and lots of french love songs

So let's go down on Sunday morning

To hear that Jacob sermon read

Everybody's dressed in their finest apparal baby

Listening to the preacher eulogies

Then we'll pray

Pray

Pray

Yea we'll pray

Our souls will rise upon that date

Pray

Pray

Pray

Pray we change to better ways

They're telling stories about love's passion

All about menage a trois

Hear those heart felt Leider

Coming from that deep bass voice

And whilst some sleep through this music

Others weep for all the pain

As they sing secular songs to the churches baby

It's time to kneel let's kneel and pray.

That's followed by the chorus again with lots of soulful hallelujah's thrown in and at this part I can't decide which to sing - Pray or Hallelujah!

I brought the cowboy to this cemetary yesterday. We seem to have burned through all our illusions about each other in the past few weeks - and decided we still think it's a good thing to hang out together awhile. I feel good about that.

One of the artists I was working with, Nancy Greenfield, came up today and collected the inventory of hers I still had. Nancy and I had a great, though short-lived working relationship and made friends in the process. I sold a little of her work for her and we ended our business relationship on very good terms. Plus, I made another new friend. Hi, Joe! Hope you found me.

I feel good about that.

I'm prepared for the upcoming surgery and am eager to get it over with and start the process of recovery. Ya'll remind me of that two weeks from now when I'm wanting to kill my physical therapist! I feel good about that.

And there's one thing for sure. I'm not "asleep in Jesus" yet. And let me tell you, I feel very good about that!

Cupid's Shadow

For many years, Valentine’s Day and the week surrounding it was just a week of intense work in the family flower shop. And don’t think your small hometown florist likes it. It’s hard, brutal physical labor. It’s rose thorns and 5-gallon buckets of slimy water and last minute men desperate to have something in their hands when they get home. It’s commercial and frivolous and ridiculous. It’s anxiety producing, guilt-ridden and fake.

Working in a flower shop you pretty much get to see it all. Flowers are bought for celebration at birthdays, births and weddings; for remembrance when someone passes on or is ill; and for good old getting out of the doghouse every day of the week. But I always think of those Valentine red roses as our own collective sexual/love/romantic shadow. Maybe because I was privy early on to the commercialization of Valentine’s Day, because I saw how men reluctantly did what they were “supposed” to do that day, and how women measured their men by whether they did the right thing or not, I am not sentimental about Valentine’s Day. You know how some people hate Christmas? Well, I hate Valentine’s Day.

In 1991, I received 7 dozen roses for Valentine’s Day. A few months later I married that man. A few months later I left in fear for my life. But, those roses – well, that and the 1 carat solitaire hooked me good. And even recently I have been seduced by pretty gifts and compliments and the promise of a little romance. But none of that is the real, real thing. Sometimes the real thing comes without nicely wrapped packages and sparkly diamonds or compliments you don't know whether to believe or not. Sometimes it comes very plainly, at the foot of a snow-covered mountain, and with the truth – no matter how unattractive it may be.

The Soul's Companion

Behavior Patterns

"When I become aware of destructive behavior patterns, they can serve a wonderful purpose: I can use them as indicators of where my inner work lies. Any situation to which I have a constant over-reaction is telling me something about myself that I need to listen to. My first task is to realize the reaction is not fitting the circumstance, then to sit with that realization, and see through association where it takes me. No one knows my history better than I do, if I allow myself to know it.

When I make the decision to come into conscious awareness, to find meaning in my life experience, I begin to experience life as an adventure - my adventure. When I raise the source of the unwanted pattern to consciousness to better understand where my pain or reaction stems from, I can begin to see it for what it is and let it go. Then I am no longer repeating history, I am making it. " Tian Dayton, Ph.D.

I've been sitting through the aftermath of some bad decision making on my part this week and at times my body has felt like that picture above (taken at Yellowstone). It feels like some alchemical fire is burning out all my. . . karma, for lack of a better word. Instead of continually berating myself for making some bad decisions in the first place, I am moving forward, trying hard to not get stuck in the negative emotions and to remember that in 5 minutes everything will be ok. Time to make some history.

Eclipsing Personal Myths or Advanced Truth Seeking

There is a partial solar eclipse tonight at 10:44 EST. In the language of astrology, eclipses are opportunities to either make or break patterns, or if you will, personal myths, we've set up in our lives.

All of us have personal myths that we live with and by whether we're aware of them or not. We come by these myths in a number of ways and from a number of different sources: parents, friends, teachers, our culture, and yes, we even come up with some of them all by ourselves. I've noticed that alcoholism treatment websites like to report myths about alcoholism. The most interesting thing is that there are very few real facts about alcoholism so the "myths" these sites report usually coincide with whatever treatment option they are trying to sell. On one site you'll find that they consider the "disease concept" a myth and on another you'll find that the myth is that alcoholism is a behavioral disorder.

When I went through treatment in 1988 I was told that I had a medical disease (alcoholism) that was incurable, progressive and eventually fatal. I had no reason at the time not to believe these well-meaning professionals and I accepted the diagnosis, followed the protocol (12-Steps) and stayed sober for six years. Obviously, that concept worked for me for quite awhile. At the time, I never questioned whether I actually believed any of it for myself.

But later in my life, when those concepts were no longer working so well, I was literally forced to question the validity of what I had learned . . . against my own experience. And here's what I'm finding - the more gray area the subject has, the more people become attached to their myths around it. It only makes sense that in the absence of few hard facts, myths will tend to abound. Alcoholism, eating disorders, gambling addiction, sexual addiction - all fertile ground for Facts and Myths. And here's what I'm coming to believe - your facts about your problem may be different from mine. My myths may be your facts. Your myth may be solid fact to me. It doesn't mean that I am right and you are wrong or vice versa.

In my study of archetypes, I've seen these personal myths come to life in the form of archetypal patterns of behavior. Addict. Victim. Goddess. Pioneer. Storyteller. Hedonist. When I view my behavior archetypally (which is exactly what astrology does by the way), I'm able to detach from the simmering emotions that surround the issue. Not only that, when I'm aware of other archetypal patterns I can substitute for the one causing me trouble, I'm offered a solution that doesn't require me to blame myself for anything, blame anyone else for anything, or even declare myself right and someone else wrong.

I'm beginning to form a theory about this called Advanced Truth Seeking. An Advanced Truth Seeker seeks out as much hard truth is available about any given situation (which is usually not a lot) and then decides what myth to make her truth. I think this is what most of us try to do in our lives, but we're usually not very conscious of it. That's where the Advanced part comes in. When we become conscious of it, we can decide with eyes wide open that we're going to make a particular myth our truth. I think this is the power of intention, the power of story, and the power of co-creation. I figure we're all just a myth in the eyes of the Goddess anyway.

I'm deciding on a few very empowering personal myths at this eclipse, how about you?

Something to Fear but Fear Itself

My ACL reconstruction surgery is scheduled for Friday, February 22nd at 12:00 pm. I had my first pre-surgery physical therapy appointment yesterday afternoon. The surgeon, physical therapist and physician's assistant aren't pulling any punches with me about just exactly how painful this is going to be. I know they're just trying to prepare me, but honestly, it's freaking me out. Apparently the first 48-60 hours after surgery can be pretty excruciating and I am not looking forward to it! It's keeping me awake at night.

Proactively, I can strengthen the muscles around my knee as much as possible before surgery and that will speed recovery time. Proactively, I can take care of myself and maintain a positive attitude and I know that will help. Proactively I can focus on how much better I'll be after the surgery, how I won't have to worry about protecting it so much and how within a year I should be able to do anything I want to - yoga, hike, swim, bike. But right now I am just utterly afraid. And I feel like a 3-year old pitching a tantrum about something she has to do but doesn't want to. I want to stomp my feet (well, the right one anyway), scream and yell that it's not fair!

The worst part is I have two+ more weeks to ponder it, consider how bad it will be, obsess on it, anticipate it and dread it. Or maybe I could use those weeks more constructively. Right now, though, I feel pretty powerless over the thoughts. I'm up for any and all suggestions. And as the day approaches, prayers will be appreciated.

Imbolc

Tomorrow, February 2nd, is the cross-quarter day known in the pagan religions as Imbolc. Imbolc marks the half way point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. I have heard that Imbolc derives from words meaning "ewes milk" or "in the belly" and in the pagan religions it refers to Spring being "in the belly" of the Mother - earth. Lactating, gestating, preparing to burst forth with the lengthening hours of sun.

Imbolc is important to me because it was the first holiday I learned about when I began studying pagan religions. Also, for some reason, it has always felt like the beginning of the year to me. It feels like it "in my belly" and I don't care when you call the year over - this is my New Year's Eve.

To celebrate, I'll be visiting the Arctic Mermaid, which is what the cowboy calls the house he's building on a mountanside in Montana. I love going there because I actually rest while I'm there. When I'm home I'm always doing something. Always! Well, unless, of course, I can't walk. But when I visit him I feel free to just lie on the couch and watch movies if I want to. I don't feel compelled to be loading the washing machine or sweeping the floor or feeding the kitties.

I will cook us venison steaks with a salad and sauteed portabello mushrooms. He will keep the fire going in the old woodstove and it will be warm inside while the snow and cold await just on the other side of the wall. We will drink wine and make love and for a few hours, all will be right with the world.

Hey! I'm thinking I'm not depressed anymore! Have a great weekend. Here's an Imbolc blessing for everyone:

Blessed be the earth, and all who dwell upon it.
We give thanks for the season now departing from us,
For the blessings it has bestowed upon us,
And upon those with whom we share this world.

Blessed be the new season.
We pray that it will be a time filled with peace,
With abundance, with prosperity,
With wisdom,
With love.

Blessed be all who share this feast.
Let us now prepare for the time ahead
By opening our hearts, and our minds, and our spirits.

Blessed be.

An Update on the Dirty Lowdown

Surgery it is. Probably in about a month. I actually have a blown ACL which is not what they initially thought, but which will continue to cause me trouble if I don't have it reconstructed. As for now, I'm getting around pretty well as long as I keep the brace on and the pain is down to a 2-3 on a scale of 1-10.

Health is the great leveler, isn't it? I know in the scheme of things a messed up knee is pretty minimal as far as actual life-threatening illnesses, but it sure is teaching me a few lessons. First, everything clicks into proper perspective. What's important? People, love, compassion, people, family, friends, people,havng a roof over your head and food on your table, people, people and people. I'm discovering some things about myself I imagine people close to me have known for awhile (sorry, ya'll!). First, I'm a terrible patient. I mean, really, I may may be worse than men! Second, even though I do it, I still don't like asking other people for help. Third, as long as I can still sweep my floor I will probably keep my sanity. And fourth, it doesn't do me much good to try and fight depression.

In my last post I valiantly declared that I would not be depressed about this. But over the weekend, like an old friend you really don't care to see again, it came knocking on the door, wanting to sit and have a cup of tea or 50. Finally, I looked at everything that's happened since Christmas. My hours at work were cut in half, my chimney crumbled and I was without heat for a few days but first the inside of my house was covered with soot, I was taken for a quick ride by a married man, I found out one of my best friends has breast cancer and then I fell and tore up my knee and could barely walk for a week. Just to put a cherry on top, the cowboy is not sure this thing with us will work out - and that's when I opened the door and invited my old friend in. I realized most everyone that had had the few weeks I had would probably be feeling a little down and I just embraced the sad mood that settled around me. I learned that when I'm depressed I don't care about much. Especially my big three pleasures: food, drinking and sex. But I knew as long as I still cared about sweeping the floor, and I did, I would probably be ok. And I am.

There's a lesson in here about those big three pleasures of mine and while I'm not entirely sure what is yet, you can be sure I'll let you know when I figure it out.

Of Knees and Friends

First, the bad news. Can you say "torn meniscus"? No? How about "medial collateral ligament tear"? One of those little terms is what happened to my knee. The treatment? Well, if it's the first, I get to have surgery. And if it's the second, I get to wear a brace for 6-8 weeks until it heals. That's 6-8 WEEKS PEOPLE! Prepare for bad language. I can't even begin to tell you how fucking depressing this is.

And just because it is that depressing, I absolutely refuse to get depressed about it. Because in my life the good news always outweighs the bad. So, here's the good news. One of my dear, dear friends had surgery for breast cancer yesterday. The surgery went well and there was no sign of cancer in her lymph nodes. Can you say, "Glory! Hallelujah!" Talk about perspective. I invite you to visit her at The Practical Vampire Slayer and send her all your good love and healing energy. This woman is practicing some principles that will work for anything. You don't want to miss out.

The cowboy (who just for the record was not the bad guy of the "Girl, you've been had!" post) came over last night, brought me dinner and had the good manners to make me totally forget for awhile that I'm in pain and can hardly walk. Then, this morning, he drove me around town to take care of errands that would've been a lot harder to do alone. These Montanan's - I swear, I want to be one of them.

Another dear friend has offered me a part-time job that will nicely supplement my income while I'm waiting for my real job to pick up again.

Tom, my co-worker and fellow deer slayer, picked up Kisster's medicine for me and then attempted to engage in some cock blocking with the cowboy which was absolutely entertaining for me.

I'm the proud new owner of a cast iron skillet bestowed upon me by a member of my writer's group as well as some vintage glass and pottery that I couldn't afford, but that magically appeared on my front porch along with a "paid" receipt. That friend with breast cancer? She also left me a container of wonderful soup before her surgery.

It is my sincere hope that I will be judged in heaven (or wherever the hell I end up) by the friends I have in this life.

Of Wolves and Women

I wanted to do something special with my parents while they were here so I went web surfing looking for activities for us. I considered snowshoeing at Glacier National Park, or visiting a hot springs I hadn't been to yet. But then I discovered something that I absolutely couldn't resist. Wolfkeep. The Wolfkeep Wildlife Sanctuary is dedicated to the preservation of the wolf and the study of wolf behavior. Their mission is to educate the public about the wolf and its place in the ecosystem.

Now, the wolf is a subject that carries a lot of emotion in these parts. The environmentalists love them, the ranchers hate them and even though there are only a little over 300 wolves in Montana today, the delisting debate continues. The gray wolf was extirpated (that means to remove or destroy something completely) from the western United States during the 1900s, primarily due to loss of habitat and conflicts with people. Wolves as a self-sustaining, breeding population were probably extinct in Montana by the 1930's.

Since moving to Montana I've had the unique opportunity to see grizzlies, black bears, moose, eagles, hawks, even a bobcat once. But I've never seen a wolf in the wild and it's not likely I will so I jumped at the chance to at least see them in a natural setting.

My mother and I have an affinity for wolves, sharing books about them: The Ninemile Wolves by Rick Bass and Shadow Mountain by Renee' Askins are a couple we have enjoyed reading. Even though they're pack animals, there's something lonely about the wolf. Their eyes hint at something longed for but never found and yet their search goes on. Their midnight howl is the music of this ache, this longing. When I watched the wolves at Wolfkeep I felt that longing in my own soul and I think my mother feels it to. It connects us to these animals and it connects us to each other. And sometimes that's as close as we'll get to understanding another person, or a wild creature, or the nature of the universe.

I leave you with a quote from Clarissa Pinkola Este's' book, Women Who Run With The Wolves:

We are filled with a longing for the wild. There are few culturally sancetioned antidotes for this yearning. We were taught to feel shame for such a desire. We grew our hair long and used it to hide our feelings. But the shadow of the Wild Woman still lurks behind us during our days and in our nights. No matter where we are, the shadow that trots behind us is definitely four-footed.

I love you, mom.

You Make My Day

Hey! I got an award. How cool is that? And from two of my favorite bloggers, the lovely hostess of everyone's favorite OTV, Olivia andMiss Annie at My Spiritual Journey, where you can take bushwalks through the Outback of Australia. It's a "You Make My Day" award and these two always do that for me.

These are the rules: Give the award to up to 10 people whose blogs bring you happiness and inspiration and make you feel so happy about blogland! Let them know by posting a comment on their blog so that they can pass it on. Beware! You may get the award several times!

Here are my picks: Julie at S'up, Sherri at Sherri Blossoms, Rick at Hamguin's Hide-not, John Eaton at Country Don't Mean Dumb, Miss R at Tales of Inglewood, Kelly at Kikipotomaus the Hippo, Carla Sanders at Carla Sanders Touching Art, Chani at Thailand Gal, Jane at Painted House 52 and Anybeth at Swimming in Clear Water.
I know some of you have already gotten the award, but too bad, you're getting it again. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to post comments on all these blogs about the award - if you see your name here and you want it, take it, if not, no big deal. Also, it's hard to pick only a certain number of bloggers for an award. If you're on my blogroll - I'm reading you and I'm reading you because you make my day. And some of you I would've picked, but I know you don't want the award anyway - so there.

Now I have to tell ya'll something hilarious. Remember in my last post how I was re-committing to walking and yoga and all that great stuff? Well, yesterday I twisted my knee - badly. It hurt so bad when I first did it I got nauseated and actually thought I might have broken my leg. This has happened before - I have a weird tendon or ligament or something that sometimes gets popped out of place. I've had it looked at and I could have surgery, but it happens so rarely that it doesn't seem worth it. Sometimes I can ice it and stay off it for a few hours and it goes back into place and is good as new. Not this time. Last night I had to use one of my dining table chairs like a walker! Talk about humbling. Talk about irony. Talk about the Universe saying, "Hey you - learn to be still." Like, ok, I get it.

Poor Me, Poor Me, Pour Me Another Drink - or - A Lesson in Archeypal Patterns

As I re-read that last post I realized I'm beginning to play out an old pattern here. The old pattern is to get sidetracked from the things that are important in my life - get sidetracked by my struggle with alcohol, get sidetracked by boys, get sidetracked by the oh-so-intense drama of it all. Once I get sidetracked I put myself in a very vulnerable position and I often get taken advantage of by bullies and petty tyrants. Then I blame myself for all of it and usually continue a pattern of drinking too much until I literally have to stop. Learning to accept responsibility for my life without blaming and shaming myself in the process seems to be one of my big lessons. I'm at a choice point. I could do the same thing: drink and duck under the covers until I have to come out for work Monday morning. Feel awful, not solve a damn thing and make myself really sick in the process. The archetypal patterns that play out when I make that choice are Victim and Martyr.

Here's what I'm going to do. I'm not going to drink and I'm going to move out of this pattern before I'm forced to. I'm going to walk daily come snow, sleet or rain and I’m going to resume my yoga practice. I'm going to prepare myself some healthy and nourishing food and treat myself with herbal infusions. I'm going to go to work on the soot in my house and finish reading "The Kite Runner". I'm going to embrace the archetypes that feed my soul: Domestic Goddess, Friend, Storyteller. I'm going to play with my camera, love on a couple of sweet kitties and make myself available for friends in my life going through their own difficult times. I'm going to make the choice I can live with - the one that brings me back to a place of joy. I'm going to chop wood and carry water until I feel that deep sense of contentment of which I've had a taste. But first, I'm going to shovel snow.

Thanks for all your comments in the past couple of days.

Girl, You've been had!

Here's the short version of what we will call the most recent week from hell. After dealing with the heat and furnace situation and thinking the worst was over for awhile, I went into work Tuesday morning and was informed that my hours have been cut back further. I'm down to 20 hours a week, but that's not the best part. I'm now working Mon-Fri 8-12 so I got my three day weekend and my yoga class cut out on top of it. If there were a good reason for the business that this be my schedule it wouldn't be so bad. But, there's not. Not one.

To add insult to injury, I had another situation occur this week which Roberta summed up quite nicely. She said, "Girl, you've been had." Yeppers, got the wool pulled right over my eyes and never even saw it coming. I got played by a real player. What's worse is that in the process I may have hurt someone I really care about.

Now if I were just your average Jane without a clue about the real world, I may be able to wallow around is this for awhile. But I'm not so now I have to ask myself some very serious and difficult questions. Questions like, "What part of me continues to allow things like this to happen? How much does the fact that I've been drinking more than I want to perpetuate these situations? And just what, exactly, the fuck am I going to do about it?" And these: "Is this process I'm doing working or am I just becoming a happier, safer alcoholic? Am I once again allowing Neptune to lead me down the road of delusional thinking and denial? Am I still waiting for some pie-in-the-sky Higher Power to zap me into a beautiful, happy, carefree life?" And, of course, the final ultimate question: "When am I going to step into the responsibility for everything that happens in my life and take full credit for the good and the bad and the totally in-between?"

These, and other pressing concerns will be answered, one way or another, in the upcoming weeks of Eclectic Recovery. If there's one thing I'm sure about today, it's my commitment to being authentic here on this blog. It's absolutely up for grabs right now as to whether it will turn into a signpost or a warning.

Me and Mr. Murphy

Please meet two of the finest people you would ever wish to run across - my mom and dad - Eve and Luther Nolan. We had a fantastic visit which I'll be writing more about later this week. But for now I want to discuss Mr. Murphy and his dad-blasted law.

Last week I was putting up dishes I had washed the night before and I noticed this black stuff on my white plastic collander. "Well, that's odd", I thought. The next day I was noticing that this black stuff was showing up on everything white in my house - the toilet, the bathtub, the curtain hanging in my bedroom doorway and I began to realize that something was seriously amiss. I figured it must have something to do with the ancient and decrepit furnace that's in my basement and called an HVAC guy. He came to look at it Friday, the same day as my parent's arrival and sure enough, it was leaking creosote and soot and all kinds of gross stuff. Luckily I was to be out of town with mom and dad most of the weekend because he couldn't get back to work on it until today. What he thought would be a fairly quick fix turned into a day long project as the inside of the chimney had crumbled and it was totally blocked! This is only the most recent in a long list of problems I've had since moving into this house - which while beautifully remodeled, only serves to divert attention from how functionally remiss the work was. I'm still waiting to hear from the clean-up people as I am living with a fine layer of soot over almost everything. For a woman that some consider a bit of a clean freak this is a real challenge.

At the same time as this little drama was unfolding, I came home to a kaput computer monitor and have been without access to my computer since last Friday as well. I called the greatest (and most handsome) computer guy in the world and he got me hooked up with a monitor about the same time as Irwin, the greatest (but not the most handsome) HVAC guy finished up with my furnace. So I'm finally connected and my house is beginning to warm up and I guess I can live without both heat and computer access longer than I thought.

Forever the optimitst, I'd like to tell you what is great about all this. First of all, it's great that I didn't die from carbon monoxide poisoning! I now have a detector and I highly recommend everyone get one. Next, it's great this happened while my parents were here because I was scheduled to be gone with them most of the weekend and I didn't have to spend much time in a freakin' cold house! Finally, because I live in a small town with exceptionally wonderful people, I have a used computer monitor that cost me only $20 - and it's bigger than my other one which is a good thing since I'm getting older and don't see so well without my readers anymore.

None of that really compares to the greatest thing that happened over the weekend, and that's that I became great aunt to an 8-lb. boy named Chase Allen. Congratulations, Coley!

Wellness Wednesday - The Soul's Companion

From The Soul's Companion by Tian Dayton, Ph.D.

Organic Life

I am biologically programmed for development. Just as a flower grows from a seed, blooms, wilts and returns to the earth. I, too, have a life cycle. Dust to dust, ashes to ashes, I will come and go, be born, bloom and die. I am organic. I eat from the earth - I am a part of it, dependent on it. This is why I will love the world, becaue this world into which I am born is my spiritual and physical home.


I come from and will return to this world.



In the laboratory we can see daily things that come into existence and then disappear, that pop into existence out of nowhere and then fade away. These are subatomic particles so it is all on a pretty small scale, but we can imagine that if we apply quantum physics to the universe as a whole, the entire thing, all the matter, energy and space could come into existence out of nowhere, spontaneously, as a gigantic quantum fluctuation . . . . . . Quantum physics' contribution is that of a universe that is not predetermined but an evolutionary pattern that is governed by probabilities, which creates a true openness.


Phil Davies



This will be my bow-out Wellness Wednesday post as well. I'm just not a stick-with-the-program kind of gal. I will, of course, continue to visit Lunar Musings and appreciate the opportunity to have participated.

I'd also like to say a fond hello to John Eaton whose blogging I miss very much and whose photo I stole for this post because I couldn't find that cool picture of The Soul's Companion that I used before.

My parents are in town from Georgia for a long weekend, but I'll be back early next week with that archetype post I promised.

Peace to all.

Sacred Sunday

This will be my final Sacred Sunday post. I haven't done very well with keeping up with my Sacred Sunday posts, so I figure it's time to bow out gracefully. I'd like to thank Carla over at Zena Musings for giving me the opportunity to embrace my Sacred Sunday's wholeheartedly. Carla is a candle practitioner of the best kind - and get this - she has Full Moon specials. Please visit her at Zena Moon.
You won't be disappointed. Plus, you get a cool little box of matches with your order!

Now, on to my Sacred Sunday. Do ya'll get that that's a man's hat on my coffee table -- in the morning!?

I think you can tell a lot about a man by the hat he wears. :)

Coming up next - the Archetypal Wheel. Happy Sacred Sunday's to you all.