Appreciation #161/365

*My frighteningly beautiful Vampire Queen daughter. *Sleeping in and then waking up and realizing I have an hour jump on the day! *Hanging out with new friends who are becoming dear friends. *Seeing all the creativity in costuming. *Watching my daughter's delight in having a spontaneously-planned sleep over with three of her friends after they all went Trick-or-Treating together. *Loving seeing the joy in my daughter's beautiful eyes. *Knowing that she is growing up and I am getting to watch every moment of it. *My brother's announcement that their adoption court date is in one month. -Feeling grateful, so very grateful, for my life.

Grace in Small Things

New Year's Do-Over

Yep. It's official. It's 6:54pm and I am absolutely draggin' my ass. My choice was well worth the exhaustion that is setting now, though. Karen and I chose into a New Year's do-over last night after co-creating a New Year's Eve in an Alternate Universe. It was amazing and uplifting and magical! And has ended up being my favorite New Year's Ever celebration ever! It will be a tradition for us that I am looking forward to. Her blog post has more eloquent detail than I am able to muster right now. Aaaaaand... there will be a Meditation coming Monday with more about my experience too. Don't wanna give away everything here and now, ya know. LOL I am just... so... tired. I must go to bed.

Above all that tiredness, though, is this gentle calm that I feel so grateful for. I feel excited for what lies ahead this year and am looking forward to each magical creation I will manifest.

Christmas Gifts...

Christmas, I know, is not about the store-bought gifts that are nicely wrapped and placed beneath the tree only to be torn open before the buttcrack of dawn on Christmas day. I love it though, when, unexpectedly, (how was that for a run-on of overusage of commas???!) there ends up being gifts under the tree for me.

This year, for me, has been about focusing on the inner gifts of Christmas and the Love that abounds within me. I have felt happy about my early decision to release the need to purchase gifts and to declare the store-bought-gift-giving portion of the season complete before I had even begun. Mostly, that was out of necessity due to the fact that my bank account has ran dry. However, it was also a very conscious decision to discover a different way to celebrate this year. I could have gone willy-nilly with my emergency credit card. I could have. I chose not to.

What has happened is I have felt peaceful through the whole season... since Halloween, actually. When I have been in stores, which has been rarely, I have been able to browse and smile and leave with only what I came there to get. The few gifts that I did allot for myself to buy - which was only for my daughter - came in under the amount that I had decided I would spend. And, still, I feel peace.

So... this morning... when my daughter woke me with a bright smile and a whispering, "Momma... can we get up? I waited until seven," I ventured into the living room with her, my father and his wife in tow. Much to my amazement, I had more gifts placed at my feet to open than I have ever had on one Christmas morning in the last ten years.

I felt overflowing with gratitude and love and peace and reverence. I feel grateful that this year has been about finding the LOVE that is this season and turned out being a huge experience of receiving.

Merry Christmas!

Christmas Shoes and A Glimpse of Tenderness

Press play for a special treat! Ha!

One of my most all time hated songs is, "The Christmas Shoes" by NewSong. When the story behind this song first was released through viral emails about ten years ago, I was moved and tearful. On the first three readings. After about the tenth time it showed up in my inbox, I wanted to barf. Then, much to my horror, some one hit wonder made it into a song. Lord help me! Now, each time it comes on my radio, I groan and quickly change the station. There are three stations here in Utah that have been playing Christmas music pretty much full time since November 1st. The other day I experienced the uncomfortable discovery that different versions of this horrific song were playing on all three stations at the same time!!! Ugh...

And with that background given, the plot thickens...

The one thing I have always loved about my former husband is his great, big tender heart. Most times, it is hidden beneath a jagged, thick, prickly exterior that is generally difficult to see through or around. Most often, he acts gruff and uncaring.

However, I know him to be kind, generous and incredibly loving.

Most people don't see him that way and, frankly, I forget it too. Until something like this happens.

I got a text at 7:00 am this morning that read...

I'm sitting in front of 7-11 bawling my eyes out listening to the song, "Sir, I want to buy these shoes". Today I am happy...... :-)

Boy! Has that song taken on a whole new meaning for me now!

WOW!

Slow Moving

It's Christmas Eve. Yesterday, Christmas Eve Eve, was spent mostly with my former husband, chaperoning him as he did Santa shopping for our daughter. While it was tiring and slow-going, it was also full of laughter. Surprising, actually.

Today I feel the need to nestle in and be slow. While I will be going to work sometime this morning, I am honoring that nesting feeling and taking my time. (And, apparently, spending a little time here on my blog and facebook! LOL)

I feel happy to have gone through this Christmas season with the true sense of what this holiday is about. I feel grateful I have surrendered to the "no money" state of being and have not gone crazy with present buying. I feel relaxed and peaceful and loving.

Merry Christmas!

Hippity-Hip

Sooo... It's Easter. Apparently I should be posting some sort of ode to Peeps or hollow chocolate bunnies. However, I am feeling decidedly UN-Easterish. I am sitting here in my room, hibernating until the very last moment. Not really wanting to emerge from the cool darkness here. I wonder if Jesus felt like that? Do you think He wanted to stay in that tomb? Or do you think He was excited to come out of the dampness into the sunlight to be greeted by, none other than, Mary Magdalene? (Not that I am equating the petite guest room to the tomb, nor myself to Jesus.)

Hmmmmm... I am feeling angry right now. Shit. (Sometimes I wish I could back to the days when my anger was non-existant and my life seemed more pretty.) I know from whence the anger stems. I did another faux pas with my Meditations. Dammit if I cannot get this lesson down!

I am part of a yahoo group of people who graduated from my massage school. (or I was a part of this group. I have now been removed by the moderator who is an "old" friend that I have usually butted heads with because he is set in his way and plays it so by the book, refusing to look outside the box which is his little world... okay, that was rude. I'm leaving it though because I feel petty. Petty... so not attractive) People have recently been posting lots of stuff about seminars/classes/workshops that they are hosting. Silly me. I thought that what *I* do would be interesting for people too.

So, I checked in, dropped a quick note - which I haven't done for about two years - and shared this:

Hi, Friends!

I am amongst the charter members of this here MCU Friends yahoo group. (Hi, JIM! And thanks for setting this up and continuing to monitor it!!! Love ya!)

I am an amazing facilitator of healing through the written word and intuitive, interactive hands-on healing sessions. These are my passions and my divine purpose. I felt inspired, today, to share one of my gifts with you, my Meditation of the Week. I design these unique emails every week, write the articles and include artwork - of which, sometimes, it is even my own artwork. I feel happy when I create these beautiful Meditations and want to share them with the world. I will start with you. :)

I invite you to spend a moment with me and nurture yourself. If you find yourself moved and would like to be a part of my adventure, you can go to the sample on my website www.momentsofawakening.com. At the bottom of that page, there is a sign up box.

With love,
Angie


Then I attached a copy of my latest Meditation.

Okay soooo... ugh... this was followed by a very public and humiliating (for me) reprimand:

Hi Angie,
Although we love ya to bits, this is not a personal blog space and posting this lengthy blog to over 100 people, most of whom don't yet know you and did not request this, was not appropriate, particularly without asking first.
Please don't do that again.
Now they have your link to your website so those who wish can go there and enjoy your postings.
Those who have other interests in being members of this list won't have their email spammed again by this.

If anyone else has blog space, My Space, etc. things to share with the list, it's ok to make a brief mention and include a link inviting us to go there if interested, but please don't post a full-out blog here. A paragraph that you think the group will have interest in, certainly, but a full out blog, nope.

Thanks.
James
(list owner/moderator)


Following this public discipline session, he and I had a private interchange. He was "kind" enough to send me a formal definition of SPAM, implying that my post fit within all aspects of his definition. And eventually our posts disintegrated to the result of him kicking my ass out of the group because he doesn't "need the extra drama in my life."

Whatever.

So, this is going to sound totally unenlightened AND I am going to say it anyway cuz it's what is rattling around in my head. Apparently, *I*AM SPAM!!! I feel so sad right now. I only wanted to share what I love. I want to SHARE and, yet, I end up feeling wounded, injured, rejected. This is more than just with my Mediations. It is a common theme. I am wondering how I can more easefully and more quickly spread my Meditations (how can I share ME) AND keep my sensitive heart whole and happy?

James mentioned in his last post to me: "This really isn't about you as a person, Angie, though I sense it does seem that way to you." This is common feedback for me as of late. "This isn't personal. It's business." I have never understood that statement, especially when *I* AM the business. I just heard this very same thing from my former husband/boss on the very same day, "Angie, you just take this all too personally."

I don't know how to respond to this. I am an emotional being. I am sensitive. I think from my heart because, when I think from my head I get all fucked up. My head is unclear. My heart is always pure. And so, I am emotional. I don't know how to do "not personal."

And, apparently, the universal message is that I have got to learn how to do that. Somehow, I have to develop a thicker skin. I have a story that that means changing my core self. I am uncomfortable with that.

James also wrote: "I think you're a little unable to sense other people, but that's just my opinion and I could be wrong." I wanted to fly off the handle on that one. I am unable to sense people?! WTF!

Then I hear the advice from ALC yesterday... It is quite possible that all I think I know is absolutely fucking wrong.

Okay. I will hold space for that. And I will hold the universe in solution for this question... "I wonder how I can move through business effortlessly AND with ease AND joy?"

From Peeps, to Jesus, to SPAM... what a trip!

Update...

So I posted a blog a few weeks ago entitled, "Family Weirdness." Since then, there have been tidbits that have materialized that explains it even further...

Epilogue

Present Wrapping...

I learned something about my father tonight that made me giggle and surprised me a bit...

When my father wraps presents, he does so very methodically. He is an engineer, so I don't know why I am surprised. He measures the gift with a contractor's measuring tape. Then he uses his math skills to figure out exactly to the 1/16 of an inch the length of paper he will need to wrap his gift. Then, once he has figured out how much he will need, he measures down the length of the roll, marking the exact measurement required. Then he takes a ruler and a pencil and connects the dots, creating a straight line to cut along. This much of the process, apparently, takes about ten minutes.

Proof of this above process in this picture:

LOL!

So, now he is folding it precisely, to crease it appropriately so that it makes crisp, clean corners. Who knew he was so anal about the wrapping of gifts?!?!

My father and his wife are now discussing the pros and cons of wrapping vertically versus horizontally. Scandal! My father's way is not the best way???

I don't know... I think the gift looks pretty damn sharp! And not one ounce of paper wasted on this first go around. Of course, it has taken him sixteen minutes to get this far and he has a total of four to wrap. It's gonna be a late night for him!!!

Santa!

Sooooo... I was perusing the internet, looking for pictures of Santa. Surprisingly enough, I came across many pictures of Santa with children who were completely freaking out. The image of children in the middle of a critical meltdown while upon the Jolly Old Elf's lap was stunningly commonplace. This one above (which is linked to the owner's blog) really caught my eye. Is it wrong of me to get a great big belly laugh out of this image???

What is it about Santa that sends our wee ones into gasping, hiccuping, slobbering fits of siren-high wails? Is it the beard? I have heard mothers try to pawn their children's hysteria off on the fact that Santa has a beard. Now, I wonder, does same said child fall apart in the city streets each time a man (or woman - now that would be a reason to cry) walked by wearing facial hair? I think not.

Is it the ho-ho-ho signature laugh? Well... maybe. Although, that doesn't seem all that scary to me, even if I try to put myself in the shoes of a three-year-old. It's just some really weird laugh. And why, I ask of you, why in the hell does Santa laugh with a "ho ho ho" instead of a "ha ha ha" or a "he he he" like everyone else?

I can't imagine it's the obese form encased in shimmering red velvet or the black boots or the white fur-lined cap. Well, perhaps it is the fur. The children are wailing because they assume Santa has killed their favorite bunny rabbit.

Yeah. Riiiiiight.

Or, could it be... dare I say it... that our children actually intuitively know that this Santa story is all a bunch of bullshit? They have already figured out that they are being lied to continually by the people who are supposed to be honest with - and demand complete honesty from - them. The children have listened to the outlandish stories and have logically concluded that it is an impossibility and - gasp! - even worse, a fraud and their parents are smilingly going along with and perpetuating the entire freak show.

My bet is on the last one...

Party Talk

A newfound blogger friend, J.M. Tewkesbury, posted a challenge in a Holiday Party Meme (challenge is here; original post of questions is here) that I absolutely could not resist. I have to admit... I love these Memes. And, what's more... I am continually amazed by the brilliance that is dancing around on this wonderful web we weave... heeheehee... alliteration!

Soooo... I chose to take on the third challenge... here is my response:

Dateless and daring, Darling Angie danced down another darkening dream and developed desire, avowing decisiveness as an attempt at dismissing doubts. She shuddered, shouted and shimmied shyly into beautiful blatant black attire, adding purple plum perfection for final fabulousness. Knowing nobody knows Darling Angie anyway and a party provides perfect prospects for feeling fun, frisky and free, Darling Angie danced down another darkening dream.

Darling Angie was greeted greatly with grins and grasping embraces embellished with smiles, smooches and small talk which healed her heart. Friends forever filled the spacious span of sparkling lights, warm wonderful wonders and melodic, moving music.

Happiness had happened! Darling Angie had danced down another darkening dream and landed lots of love and laughter. Each exchange expanded exponentially into intriguing, interesting, inclusive experiences of unbelievably unique unity.

Dateless didn’t deny celebration, as she danced down another darkening dream. Darling Angie was welcomed with widespread arms and allowed an amazing time to take to heart, her humbled heart, total truth which was: Darling Angie decided she doesn’t desire a date at all at this time! Anyway, Angie’s friends already find her fabulous!

One More?

Help me! I've blogged and I can't get up!

Sheesh... I walk away from this computer of mine and I am plagued with all sorts of things I want to write about. My creative juices are flowing and I cannot stop them. I want to write and write and write. And, for a writer, THAT is a good thing. Unless, of course, it interrupts what I am meant to be doing right now. Like, for instance, showering so that I am ready for the day and can go pick up my daughter from her father's.

Ummmm... yeah... I can skip the whole shower and fix the hair thing and cut off a good 45 minutes!!! Wooohooooooo!

And here I am, back at it.

I am laughing at myself.

Especially because what I have to write about in this moment, which seems so imperative to record, is actually quite trivial...

Banana bread made from the box tastes entirely different than banana bread made from scratch. Neither worse nor better. Just... different.

My Mom hates it when people compliment me in front of her. Why is that? And why is it that my aunt, her sister, seems to hone in on that and adoringly coos and ooohs and aaahhs over me whenever the three of us are together?

I am irritated by the WIFI connection here at my father's. It is unreliable and constantly drops. Grrrrrr...

My all time favorite Christmas song ever is "White Christmas" by the Drifters, I think. It's the one they use in Home Alone while Macaulay Culkin is "shaving" his face. The version where the voices are alternatingly deep and high. Ba-doom ba-doom bopbop bop bop ba-doom ba-doom bopbop bop bop... I'm dreaming of a white christmas...

My least favorite Christmas song is "Carol of the Bells." Ick. Oh no, wait. "Little Drummer Boy." Yeah... no... "I cry when I take the Christmas Tree down..." That one, for sure! Oh, wait. You haven't heard that one? Oh! I'm sorry. That means you haven't been privy to the sappy-Mormon tradition of The Forgotten Carols by Michael McLean. I used to be one of those googely-eyed people that sat in the crowded, noisy, over-hot high school auditoriums every Christmas along with everyone else in Mormondom to watch the musical. I used to love the songs. I hate most of them now and cringe or change the station when I hear one. Damn! I really have become the Ex-MormonGrinch.

Look out hell. Here I come!

Yep. See. Totally random.

Feedback

The party was amazing tonight! I felt grateful to be back amongst my friends... my crazy, crazy friends where anything is possible and anything goes. I have missed that energy in my life. Desperately. I felt happy to be able to cuddle and talk and laugh and touch and be... just be me. I didn't realize how much I missed the energy of that group until I walked in and found myself surrounded by it again.

I am grateful I went, even though I had misgivings about going alone. I am grateful, especially, that I went alone. Come to find out, almost everyone came alone and I was grateful that I did not have anyone that I needed to make sure they were "doing okay" in a crowd of strangers.

I am grateful I was there to witness with my eyes and ears all that is happening for my friends... one friend is flying out on Monday to spend two weeks with her son whom she adopted out 18 years ago. Another friend has just landed a monthly column in a local cool publication. Another couple of friends have gotten together since I last saw either of them - it is an amazing match. Another couple of friends chose this night to do an official "divorce" ceremony in front of us wherein they burned their marriage knot and consciously chose to leave the relationship in love. It was a breathtaking experience to watch a break-up go so... lovingly.

The friend who landed the column also realized she is completely in love with the man she has been with for several years. She had thought she wasn't... she had been all caught up in her stories of why he wasn't good enough for her and why he didn't love her enough. Suddenly, she discovered that it was simply that... her stories and now she has come to know that no matter what it takes, with him is where she wants to be. She said, "I realized that my soul is happy when I am with him."

Listening to her, I found myself longing to feel that. I wanted to have someone in my life whom I could say my soul feels happy when I am around them. I became aware that, after almost 10 years post divorce, I am really ready to welcome in love.

I have spent the bulk of 2007 getting to know myself and understand who I am. I have found my anger - by god! I have so found my anger - and I have come to discover that I can actually feel my anger and that is a good thing. I have learned that a lot of what I am carrying around with me in the form of over-excessive weight is my anger that I have held onto. And I feel sad about that.

The amazing thing is... everyone with whom I spent time one-on-one with tonight said these exact words to me, "Angie, wow! You look amazing!" One of my friends actually said, "I can see in you that you have changed so much. I look forward to watching the rest of your transformation and I feel that it is coming around the corner... it's next year! I can see that you have really stepped into who you are. You are beautiful, radiant, ready... you!"

I stepped in front of the mirror tonight, before removing my makeup and taking down my hair. I studied myself closely and let it all sink in.

I am ready!

A Date?

It's Christmas.

I have a Christmas party with friends tonight. The invitation said, "Bring your significant other." I have another such invitation sitting on my dresser for a dinner party next Thursday.

I don't have a significant other.

And I am really feeling it this year.

Deflated

I imagine ya'all have seen them. Those big inflatable yard decorations that start making their appearances come Halloween and proliferate yards all across the land for Christmas. I think they are a hideous misuse of money and an overt display that people are idiots.

The neighborhood in which I now live has house after house of these idiots. Driving to my father's place, up the long and seemingly endless row of houses that look so much like the next, I get my fill of these inflatable yard decorations. It is as if each neighbor is competing with the next, culminating with the guy on the corner whose house looks like Chevy Chase's in National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and is home to thirteen inflatable yard decorations.

I am amazed - or perhaps, appalled - by the excess displayed in this neighborhood. I was struck by it the first time I drove through it, which happened to be a hot day in the summer when the men were out in their front yards washing one of the many vehicles or RV's or SUV's that were parked in the garage, the driveway, the parking strip along the side of the house and on the street. Every house has at least two cars, one truck and either a boat or a motorhome. And, oddly enough, none of the rec vehicles ever move and no one is ever home. Hmmmmm... wonder why?? Duh!

Of course, they aren't ever home until father and son stay home from work and school one Monday to decorate their home for Christmas. They are keeping up with the Joneses, the Blacks, the Smiths and the Johnsons. I cannot begin to imagine the size of the electrical bills in this neighborhood.

I am truly not a Scrooge. Honestly, I am not. I love this holiday and think that the meaning of this holiday is what is important. And, while I am not a Scrooge, I must admit... I get a HUGE kick each morning on my way out of the neighborhood when I spy the inanimate puddles of vinyl lying listless in the snow, disconnected from the source of their puffy-power while the family is away. That is my favorite yard decoration of all and I laugh all the way down the street.

Family Weirdness

It's official. My family is, without a doubt, incredibly weird.

There are so many idiosyncrasies and bizarre personality traits in my extended family and they were all out in full force, full color and live today at the Millgate Family Christmas Party. It was meant to be fun, my cousin - who is exactly, to almost the minute, ten years younger than me - planned it to be like the "fun" Christmases she - and many of the other older grandchildren, including myself - remember from our youth.

It was to be a Christmas Brunch - waffles, bacon, sausage, juice, milk, etc - and we were doing it all from scratch. Until we blew out every single outlet in the kitchen of the rec center we were in. Then we had to drag tables all over the gym to find separate outlets for the griddles and waffle irons until we had enough food - two hours later - that everyone got to have at least a snack.

As "The Siblings" - as my father and his brothers and sisters are called - have aged, things have just gotten more weird. Arguments that have lasted decades have caused bad feelings that waft around the gatherings in this misty haze of malcontent, even though no one remembers what the original spat was about. The strong division of financial standings is practically visible - each family gathering reminiscent of scenes from West Side Story... with those from the East looking down their noses at those from the West... "Dahling... don't talk to her... she is a lower-class west sider... we do not associate with their kind."

You think I'm kidding?

I'm not.

Predictably the group divides into small clusters of comfortableness wherein the people can be safe. Rarely do the groups intermingle. Today my cousin tried to shake things up a bit, though. We were doing a Sub-for-Santa and we had all donated money to the pot which was then divided amongst The Siblings which were also handed an envelope which contained the list of needs for the person for which they were responsible to shop. Then, my cousin, in her brilliance - and perhaps naivete - had optimistically designated The Siblings as the head of each of their teams, which were comprised of people whose names she had drawn out of a hat. She really wanted the family to spend time with one another in groups which they normally did not.

It lasted all of about five minutes until, behind her back, the groups started changing. People dropped out of the shopping spree all together. Others whined until they were accepted into the team they wanted to be on - the team that had the people they "liked." Some people actually left the party and never returned. I ended up on a team with an uncle who has always given me the creeps, an Aunt who seemingly has hated me for ten years and has actually said horrible things about me and one of my male cousins whom I don't know very well but still adore. Thank god for him or I would have been miserable.

My aunt insisted on taking money back with us. She was fixated on not spending all of the money we had been allotted for the five-year-old little boy for whom we were responsible to gift. She needed to return with money in hand. So, we had $70 and she would only allow us to purchase $61 of gifts.

The adventure got better. When we all returned with our bounty - some of the family members truly believing that the process was a race in which they had to win - we were responsible to gift wrap the packages. Nightmare! Here was where all the OCD and Anal Retentive personalities rose to the occasion. Some teams took over an hour to wrap three boxes!

Oh! My! God!

Today, I slid into my detached observer mode, which I have done a lot as of late because it seems to be safe. And because I was observing, I was able to see all the bizarre behaviors. Some of which I giggled at. Others which I rolled my eyes at. And others which down right pissed me off. In times like these, when there are wars brewing all over the world and people starving and dying in the cold, I watch my family and I am appalled by their behavior. I am hoping that everyone's family is weird, but I fear that mine may just be over the top of weird.

Epilogue...

So... I found out some other interesting(?) tidbits that I had to post after the fact.

Two of the people who left the party early were my father and his wife. They left because they had to go serve their mission down at the Church Historical Library in Salt Lake. Now, I know that The Church teaches "God first. Family second," however, if same said people are able/willing to take time off from their mission to attend the wedding of some obscure friend's (whom they haven't seen in over two years) daughter in Boise, Idaho (a five/six hour drive away) then couldn't they, for the love of all that is holy, take time off to spend with their family at the once-a-year Christmas ta-do???

We do not exchange gifts anymore as per my cousin, who is a week younger than me, who pitched a fit about seven years ago because they couldn't afford all the gifts they have to get for her family and his family and their own family and on and on and on. So the gifts have been nixed ever since. However, The Siblings still give gifts to their mother and they do it at the family Christmas party so she can open them in front of everyone. (Author's bitchy, judgmental sidenote here... they do it so everyone can see what they got her and know who did the better gifts.) This year someone gave her carry-on luggage. What the hell for? She never travels. But, nonetheless, she said she needed it and they could not think that through for themselves and got it for her. My father and his wife gave her empty boxes to unwrap to prove that they had given her gifts. She was wearing one of the gifts - her new shoes. And the other gift - a case of jam from the LDS cannery - was at home on her shelf.

One of my uncles actually had the balls to ask my cousin - who had organized the entire event and collected all the money donated to the Sub for Santa cause - if he could have money back!!! Who, for hell's sake, asks for money back from a Sub for Santa donation pot?!!

My mother attended with me at the behest of my organizer cousin. (Mom gave me permission to post this, so have no fear) She offered a beautiful gift of a poinsettia to her former mother-in-law. The thing was gorgeous! What Grandma didn't know was that the freezing cold weather had done weird things to the beautiful plant. It made it so fragile that, if you even looked at it, let alone touched it, the branches would fall off. Eventually, by the time we made it to the rec center, all of the branches, aside from two, had popped off. Rather than throw it away or not give it at all, Mom shoved the branches down into the dirt, fluffed the leaves and called it good.

My capitalist cousin has named his youngest baby girl Corporate. God have mercy on us all!

Meditation of the Week

Click here for this week's meditation

Be well, my Friend!

Happy Halloween!

I looooooooooooooooooooove this holiday. I love dressing up. I love seeing everyone's creativity. I love being able to answer to my inner self and match it with my outward appearance!!! For the last several years, I have been a gypsy/witch and it has felt like the most authentic day of the year.

Yep! I love Halloween!

Blessed be, Friend!

Pioneers

It's a holiday today here in my home state - Pioneer Day. Much of the State closes business for the day in honor of the Mormon Pioneers that braved death to travel into the unknown West and set up life here in Zion. It is a day that is celebrated with family BBQ's and this big, long-ass parade through downtown consisting of horses, floats, horses, cars, marching bands, more cars and more horses. God help me, I have never been able to figure out the point behind this parade - the second biggest in the nation, from what I have heard (this year there were over 150 listed entrants).

It is hotter than hell out there today. It always is on this holiday. Blistering hot...

I have incredible family-fun memories of this holiday...

There was a time, seemingly eons ago, when my family would gather at the parade route and literally camp out. It wasn't that we wanted front row seats to the usually four-hour long parade. It was that we wanted that time together. It was in the age before anyone had been divorced, when everyone still liked each other. It was the time when my cousin - just a week younger than I - and I would parade out our latest love for approval from the clan. It was the time that we laughed until we couldn't see straight.

Every year, we began gathering around noon the day before the actual parade and stake out our grounds along Main Street in front of Little America between the two big pine trees. Every year, we all knew where we would find one another... there... right there. We would play football in the street. We would order pizza. We would find friends from years past. We would play tag with homemade wooden rifles and thick, postage-sized rubber bands. And, by god, how we would laugh!

We would never sleep and rise with the sun. We would line the street looking bedraggled and exhausted and thoroughly satisfied with life. We would rate the floats as they went by, becoming legendary enough that entrants actually would watch for us and attempt to earn higher points by performing feats for us that they would perform for no one else. We would sit for hours on end while the cars and horses and floats and bands marched by, seemingly without end. And, when the parade was finished, we would move the celebration straight from there to a local park where we would spend more time together and laugh. We laughed so much.

Main Street is empty today, aside from the occasional pedestrian because the parade has been rerouted to accomodate Trax. Last night, 250 cops cleared the parade route of any patrons hoping to capture their youth by camping out.

Today, I have no idea where my family is - any of them. The pine trees are still there, the space between is empty. Today, I slept in until 10:30 am. It's after 12 now and I have heard rumors that the parade is still slinking by. And no one is rating the floats.

Things have certainly changed.

Quiet

Celebration of the holiday was strangely quiet and solitary in my world.

I picked up a very tired little girl from her daddy's house around noon. Even at that time of the day, her eyes were drooping and I could see the wear of a week-long lack of sleep and too much time in the sun at the lake. Her eyes teared up when I stepped through his front door and she launched herself into my arms, "Momma! I missed you."

I am so grateful that this is still so. I know there may come a time when she wishes to be far from me. I soak up these little moments during her young life and store them for a later date.

Somewhere in the valley on the eve of Independence Day, there had been celebratory firework displays. The smoke of which clung low in the atmosphere, hugging the mountains in a smokey white cloud and creating an elegant image.

She and I journeyed out to the edges of town and, along the way, passed a domestic elk ranch. We stood at the fence, eyes wide with awe and stared at the huge, magnificient beasts. One fine specimen was perched in the small creek, near the fence, chewing his cud. He was near enough that his astounding velvet-covered antlers were within reach. My daughter, adventurous soul that she is, reached her hands through for a touch.

She ran to me with a squeal. "It feels soft and... tingly."

"Tingly?"

"Yeah! It made my fingers tingle. It feels like it moves."

I was intrigued, so I ventured near and reached in. The bull elk was oblivious to our touch, although I was certain he was aware of our presence.

Indeed, the rack did vibrate. As he chewed, the crunching resonated through the branches.

She and I secreted ourselves away in the cool darkness of a movie theater. I allowed her to pick the movie - Nancy Drew - and endured a painful rendition of a classic character. I allowed her to go to Hobby Lobby with her own hard-earned paycheck (she is contracted to clean her daddy's office every week) so she could buy art supplies to her heart's content. I allowed her to pick the restaurant for lunch. I allowed her a visit to Jamba Juice where she picked and purchased her first sampling of their delicious juices - a small Razzmatazz. I was simply along for the adventure of her company.

Traditionally, the Fourth is spent with family and friends usually at a park with picnics and fireworks. This year, it was just the two of us with a long nap after the juicing, a splash in our swimming pool and then a cuddle on the couch as we watched one of our favorite movies - A Good Year. During the flick, we heard fireworks from some celebration. She dashed out the front door but could not see them.

Early to bed last night. Late to rise this morning.

"Gee, Momma. I didn't get to see any real fireworks last night. I kinda feel sad about that."

Me too. Independence Day just seems incomplete when my eyes are unable to drink in the brilliant explosions and feel the sonic booms in my belly.

Independence

Today America celebrates its Independence.

On this day, my mind goes to my cousin Jeff Fisher who volunteered to step up and make a difference. I feel proud of him.

I feel proud to be an American.

As I drove around this morning, I passed a spot I pass several times every day. This spot is a favorite gathering place for vagabonds and homeless people alike. They stand on the corner holding tattered cardboard signs with black Sharpie marker etchings that declare their state of poverty and displacement.

This morning, a young man stood there, holding his little square and beaming like the Chesire cat.

His sign read:

Spaceship broke down.

Need new parts.

Need money for new parts.

Please help so I can go home.