From the depths I return, with:

A BRAND NEW CAR!




Yeah, I finally got a replacement for my old and busted Echo.  It remains to be seen whether I can keep up with the payments.  It's not blue; it's pale sea green.

Remember the Maine!

Remember the Lusitania!

Wait - no one does that anymore?

No - because all fades into the mists of time. It is not forgetting so much as it is healing. What is to be served by opening the wound again and again?

By continually looking back, we completely miss our present and fail to look forward into our future. The bell cannot be unrung, but it need not continue to toll.

You walk at dusk on a cool spring evening, carryng a blanket and a flashlight.

You come to open ground, where you can clearly see the sky above.  Spreading out the blanket, you lie down.  As the sun makes its exit, the stars come out on a moonless night and twinkle brightly.

You feel the light that shines within you, that divine spark in your core, vibrate.  It seeks to join the stars in the sky.  The light expands until it fills you completely, and then you lift from your physical form and up into the night.

As you rise, you see other lightbeings joining you, drawn by the same desire.

Though the night had once seemed dark, it now glows with the light from all of you, each its own star.  But even one is enough to banish the darkness.  Your ability to shine your light gives you the power to reach others, to make their world less dark, to guide them towards their own divinity.

You feel that connection with your higher self, and with the stars.  Truly, you are star children; the elements that make up your physical form are only made by the explosions of great stars.  Both within and without, your beingness is entwined with theirs.

Eventually your form draws you back, and you return to your body on the blanket.  As you settle inside it, you can still feel the warmth of your light shining within you.  You rise, pick up the blanket, and make your way home, the flashlight an extension of that glow you carry with you wherever you go.

Sorry I've been lax on posting.  I've been reading all of you, but haven't had my act together enough to spew my own drivel. 

Let me try to catch up.  Post dump may follow.  You have been warned.

I've been reading all of your posts out there in LJ Land, and not saying a lot myself.  Here's a catch-up; it's got both good and bad bits.

The Good:

1.  I have new custom orthotics for my shoes, and it seems to be making my cranky knee happier.

2.  One of my doctors thought that my general malaise might be due to adrenal fatigue, and gave me some Drenamin to take.  It has made a huge difference.  No longer am I falling asleep at work or after work, but I am tired at a more appropriate hour at night.

3.  Internet still wonky, but I have a tech coming tomorrow morning to sort it out.

4.  I think I have all the materials I need for the things I want to get done before Costume-Con.

5.  I found a missing family recipe, and immediately made up a batch of it.

The Bad and Ugly:

1.  I spent the weekend with a head cold.

2.  Our department is getting mucked about with as part of company restructuring.  The bottom line is we have to move our office and we get an overall supervisor whom we have had in the past and dislike intensely.  I am hoping this is not a train wreck.

3.  My car was t-boned on Saturday.  It was my fault.  I have a ticket to pay.  My car is drivable, but totaled by the insurance company.  I really don't have the cash for a car payment at this time.  I am bruised and sore.

They've adjusted the grow zones for the US, and my city has gone from 5b to 6b.  Climate change deniers may feel free to STFU.

And yet, it's not quite enough for some things my friends and I would like to grow.  I've tried the "put the dwarf citrus trees in pots and take them inside for the winter" trick; it failed miserably.  I need to put something out and leave it there.  And some of those require a minimum of zone 7.  Foiled again!

My company closes between Christmas and New Year, and our department took the Monday after off as well, so I had a chunk of downtime.

I didn't make any plans going in.  Good thing; before I knew it, the schedule had filled with visits and outings.  What time I did have at home ended up primarily spent unconscious.  No, I hadn't fallen ill; my body just decided it wanted sleep, and lots of it.  One 24 hour period comes to mind where I was only up for 9.5 hours.  *zzzzzzzz*

Went to museums; saw a Monet exhibit (not really my taste), and a selection of items from the history of the local weaver's guild.  I liked that one better, especially a dollhouse-sized reproduction of an 1840's prairie home, where all the linens were woven of sewing thread (she won the household linens category against full-sized entries) and she whittled all the furniture in the house as well.

 

Good food, friends, and weather - absolutely no complaints here.

Then I got 2 big pieces of bad news:

1.  A friend from folk dance was on a cruise in the Caribbean with her husband when she fell ill.  Turns out it was bacterial meningitis, which led to several strokes, which led to brain death.  In less than a week, she went from vibrantly healthy to dead.

2. My work mentor, who retired a few months ago, died. I couldn't make myself go to her funeral; it hurt too much.

This does not describe the state of things ATM.  I can't even blame things on the contractors; this goes deeper.

In this holiday season, there are items which I traditionally bake.  I have to tear the place apart to find the recipes.

EVERY.  YEAR.

I put them someplace "safe", where "I'll be sure to find them".

No.

Now, instead of getting the place more tidied up, I'm making an even bigger mess searching.  Grrr.

Have you read my journal?  Many times, that's what I do already.  I'm not your bitch, bitch; I'll rant when I want to.

Took the day off and slept.  Had a really odd dream involving Jeff Daniels.

Apparently woke up on the cranky side of the bed, because I've been seeing posts and comments on FB that just made me grind my teeth, and I let fly with some comments myself that were the most controlled, politest way I could say, "You can take your head out of your ass any old time now," I could come up with.

I think what precipitated this was finding out yesterday that the guy who volunteered his venue for a workshop tomorrow had completely forgotten about the commitment, and had scheduled himself to be busy in a different part of town.  Okay, he spaced it; it happens, right?  Well, except that he got online and posted a lie about why he and his place were unavailable, and acted like we should just cancel and reschedule another time that was convenient for HIM - as though he ran the group.  Um, no - that would be MY job, I know you're lying (which pisses me off), and I can find another place for us to meet.  Feel free to go to hell, and pound sand once you arrive.

To my amusement, one of my FB comments was said to be "eloquent".  Why am I so tickled about that?  How often do you get called eloquent after a comment containing the word "assholes"?  I got mad skillz, I tell ya.

Watched a show on the Documentary channel called Autumn Gold.  It followed several athletes preparing for a 2008 Masters track and field competition in Lahti, Finland.

Where was I?  Oh, yes; older athletes.  And by older, I mean followed by "than dirt".  Let's meet our heroes.

Jirka, Czech Republic, 83; event - high jump.  He has a coach (!) and a wife who gives him a rubdown after his workouts.  In order to be competitive, he's got to be able to jump at least 109 cm (43 inches).  During the meet, he's only able to get to 96 cm (still, you do that at 83).

Nick, Ireland, 84; event - 1500 meters.  He wished that the meet had been 3 weeks later, so he could have competed in the 85-89 age group, as he got smoked by those 80 year old whippersnappers.  He was dead last, but his time?  8:50.  I can't do that right now, and I'm a lot younger than he is.

Harold, Sweden, 93; event - 100 meters.  He admits to being small, and wishes he was bigger.  His workouts are impressive, including climbing up onto a piece of apparatus, hooking his feet against a bar, hanging upside-down, and proceeding to do situps. Yikes.  Won the silver medal; got beaten by an Italian who probably took a similar number of strides, but was at least 8 inches taller, so his strides took him a lot further.

Gabi, Italy, ??; event - discus.  She pedals her stationary bike wearing her pearls.  She runs an exercise class.  She doesn't want to admit her age, but lets slip that her first major competition in discus was in the spring of 1936.  Later a friend spills the beans - Gabi is 94.  She didn't medal, but set a new personal best of 12.55 meters (over 41 feet).  Again, no way can I do that now.

Arnold, Germany, ??; event - discus.  Arnold's using his walker more recently because one knee has been prone to collapsing at inopportune moments, and if he continues to fall he won't be able to stay in his apartment.  Despite this, he wants to compete, because he wants the competitor number that he'll wear on the front of his top.  When he gets his packet, he tears it open, pulls out the paper, and giggles with childish glee as he holds it up.  His division?  M (for masters) 100.  And yes, he took his walker up to the edge of the throwing circle, left it there, walked in, and threw that discus with all the might his 100 year old body could muster.  (I think there were no other contestants in his age bracket in that event.)

This is what life can be like in extreme old age.  They have my complete respect.  Think about all they've seen, what they've had to live through.  War, communism, loss of spouse; the world they were born into bears almost no resemblance to the one we have now.  Yet their minds and bodies are still sharp.  Imagine what we can do by following their example.

Full house for Thanksgiving this year.  Made a tandoori-spiced turkey, which makes a lovely gravy.

Couldn't winnow down the pies to just two, so I made 3:  chocolate pumpkin pie (which is the first pumpkin pie I've ever liked), eggnog pie (which had more filling than the crust could hold, so I chilled the rest in a bowl; I was told it was better than whipped cream as a topping), and cider pie.

But oh, that darn pumpkin pie.  That was the first thing I started that day (I needed to get all the pies done before the turkey took over the oven).  The can opener had trouble opening the can of pumpkin, leaving 2 small bits intact.  So dummy me pressed on one side of the lid to get it to pop up so I could extract the pumpkin.

It did.  Rapidly.  And I pressed my thumb straight down on the (now vertical) lid.  And there was much swearing and gnashing of teeth.  Happy Mercury retrograde to me!

After several minutes under the cold water and a one-handed bandage job, I was back in business.  When people started showing up several hours later, the first thing that happened was me having my ex put on a fresh bandage.

Tonight, I've changed the bandage again.  It only hurts now if there is direct pressure on the wound, and it seems to be healing without incident, although there is some bruising.

I ended up with more booze than I started with - and we drank our fair share.  Hooray!

Bastard LJ deleted my entry! Let's try again.

A million isn't that much these days. I'd certainly refile taxes to minimize the bite from the government.

The vast majority would go towards retirement. That would make me feel more secure. Otherwise, not a lot would change; same old job, same reliable old car.

Vacation? Not without friends, and depending on schedules. We'd eat and drink our way around the world, and visit important spiritual sites along the way.

Sure, I'd pull some for a slush fund. Do more remodeling. Donate to charity. Have a small party, with food we usually can't afford (beef tenderloin? hello! eat up, friends!).

In the end, though, I'm an ant, not a grasshopper. This is a long game.

Or at least the local area.

Our church, at the last business meeting, decided that it was not enough to take donations of food from the congregation for the Salvation Army food bank, but that the church needed to pony up, at least through the winter.  Since we're a small group, we decided to start with a modest dollar amount - $100/month, and each month someone would spend the money (different person each time, so no one feels put upon).

I took the first month and went to Aldi, where I filled my trunk with a variety of things:  canned fruit and veg, canned pasta, tuna, boxed mashed potatoes, and pasta sauce.  Very satisfying, I must say.

I'll still be doing my regular couponing for cheap personal care items, and I'm going to throw a few things into the Scouting for Food bag for this weekend.  I see, even without ever meeting a recipient, that I am making a difference (albeit small and temporary).  Food for the bellies; personal care items for self-esteem (no one wants to stink or look scruffy - and yes, I make sure to get men's products as well as women's) and good health (if you need this assistance, I'm guessing you're not seeing a dentist regularly, so I buy a lot of toothbrushes and toothpaste).

If only this sort of thing weren't so necessary.

You walk into a clearing.  IN the center you see a natural formation serving as an altar.

On the altar are two hemispheric bowls.  You look into the first bowl and see it contains grains of wheat.

You feel the sun's light and heat pouring down on you, and its energy runs down one of the kundalini paths to the base of the spine, warming you and filling you with its light.

When you look back into the first bowl, the wheat is gone, replaced by a small loaf of bread.  You eat the bread, incorporating it inside you.

The sun has now set, and a full moon shines in the sky.  You look into the second bowl.  It contains golden grapes and honey.

The moon's reflected light serves as the feminine counterpoint to the sun's masculine energy.  In the bowl, the grapes and honey have been transformed into a clear amber liquid, which you drink.  the energy flowing down the other kundalini path to rest at the base of the spine.

It is now near sunrise.  The moon is setting as the sun comes up, and as it does, energy begins to move up your chakras.

First, the root, giving you a strong foundation for the change to come.
Next, the sacral chakra, where you create the person you wish to become.
The solar plexus, where you focus your will towards your goal.
To the heart, infusing the energy with your passion.
The throat, speaking your truth.
The third eye, seeing the final manifestation of your new, higher self.
Finally the crown chakra, where the energy flows outward to fill your entire auric field, surrounding you like the pupa around the caterpillar.

Slowly you bring the energy back down the central column.  As you do so, the auric field clears.  When you feel the energy set back at the base of your spine, you open your eyes and behold yourself at your new, higher energetic level.

Notice that there's a tall community (in the LJ spotlight this week), but not a "short" one?  We have issues, too.