Tag Archives: love

Happy Mother’s Day to all you women & men who’ve never given birth

For all the times you've mothered...

For all the times you’ve mothered…

Mother’s Day wishes are swirling all over the ‘Net.  Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.  Happy Mother’s Day in honor of my precious babies who are now grown up.  Happy Mother’s Day, dear Mama Earth who helped birth all of us, big and small.

I want to add another Mother’s Day wish to those of us humans who have never labored and given birth to real live squalling babies with red faces.

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Blogging to illuminate, to reconcile



Lately I have been enjoying writing blogs that seem to reconcile stuck, limited, or judging viewpoints within.

Something arises.  Some judgment, some feeling, some sorrow, something that’s not yet integrated.

Perhaps it has to do with a friendship.  A sense of longing.  Something deep inside which wants to be accepted, yet there’s still a pushing away, a not-allowing. Perhaps it’s an anger, a sorrow, a not-understanding.

I sit and type, letting the deepest self share its thoughts.

Then–instead of turning too quickly in the next moment–or too compulsively looking toward your comments or visits–it seems that the words in the blog are felt on a deeper level.  I feel the truth in the words, to understand, to allow.

It often feels like a big ah-ha of understanding.  It feels like it translates into true realization, into something real which can inform the next action.

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Do you feel the pain?

…and then the unthinkable happens.

Cancer knocks on your door.  While you slept an invasion of cells stole away your peace and now chemotherapy rules your days and nights, even though you swore, didn’t you swear?, that you would never ever radiate yourself, that you would never fight for life with poison and hope singing in your bloodstream.

You’re running in the Boston Marathon and suddenly an explosion rocks your runner’s high and you’re falling, falling, to the pavement and blood runs instead where your legs once pumped in delightful anticipation of that finish line which never arrived.



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When Death unexpectedly asks for the last dance…

Sunrise, sunset...

Sunrise, sunset…

How unexpectedly Death can knock on one’s door and steal away a loved one, a friend, a co-worker.

One minute you can be talking and laughing and joking and making fun of what’s right and not right in the world…and suddenly you’re not right in the world.  You’re gone.  You’ve fallen over at your desk, fifteen minutes passed out before someone finds you and hurries to breathe into your mouth, breathe once, breathe again, please breathe, please don’t die, please move, please laugh again…

As some of you know from my Facebook status–or calls, or email on that sad yesterday afternoon–Barry’s 47-year-old co-worker and friend at the Sentinel, Cathy, died somewhere between 2 and 3 p.m. from massive cardiac arrest at her desk.

Barry and she had laughed together yesterday morning, and planned and plotted, and shared as co-workers often do all during the beautiful bright February morning here in the Upper Peninsula.

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Hushabye...  2009 photo

Hushabye… 2009 photo

This is so odd.

No words have been rising recently.

Have you experienced silent times when nothing–no matter how hard you try–wants to come forth?

When the Universe issues a Silence Decree?

When all the stories dry up and don’t seem worth sharing?

I’ve written two blog posts in the last week, but couldn’t publish them.  They weren’t “bad” posts.  The heart just didn’t agree they should be published.

(I am sneaking this one in before the heart disagrees.  LOL!  You know–if the heart disagrees I’m outa here.)

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Once upon a wedding…

Seunghye’s two-year old niece from Korea

Welcome to the wedding of our oldest child, Christopher, and his bride, Seunghye.

Please come in the Villa Mare and enjoy our celebration.  (I am so glad to have you readers with us in spirit.  It makes for more rays of love and connection, doesn’t it?)

See this little girl in her beautiful Korean traditional outfit over there?  See the little bunny she’s holding?  Barry and I bought a stuffed animal for the two little babies (this one and her little brother) at the bookstore of the University of California San Diego bookstore.

Looks like this bright-eyed girl likes it, doesn’t it?  She even brought it downstairs for the wedding.

Isn’t she adorable?

She’s shy, though.  It takes her a while to warm up to strangers, so don’t go expecting hugs immediately.  It took me a few days before I could pick her up and carry her around.

In the meantime, while you’re wandering around the Villa, please excuse me.  I must go get dressed in the aubergine mother-of-the groom dress.  It’s kind of wrinkly since travel, and we’ve been late arriving at the festivities.  Everyone else is dressed.

I certainly hope ironing is available.  Barry’s pants need pressing–and so does Kiah’s dress.

What shall we do?

In which Kiah’s boyfriend, Diaa, comes to our rescue & helps us iron. We like him a LOT.

Oh my goodness, what is this?  It looks like Diaa has been taught how to iron by his Egyptian grandmother!  Can you believe our luck?  He insists that it’s “simple” and so we give him our pants and dresses and, by golly, what kind of miracle man did our daughter discover?–he irons our clothes.

(Yes,  yes, I know how to iron. But when someone is offering–and it’s almost time for the wedding–would YOU say no?)

Look at the beautiful traditional Korean dress Seunghye’s mom is wearing. She is talking to my mom through a friend of the family.

Chris and Seunghye have hired a translator for the big day, so you can talk to her mom and dad and brother and sister-in-law and even the babies.

My mother thought that talking with Seunghye’s mother and learning more about Korean culture was one of the highlights of the wedding!

I was so busy mingling with the approximately 50 guests that it felt challenging to talk adequately with everyone.  You know how that is, don’t you?

OK, it’s time for the wedding ceremony to start.  Let’s all join together on the outdoor balcony overlooking the pool.  C’mon up–don’t be shy.  It’s very informal.  The bride and groom are going to exchange vows themselves (they have already been married before a justice of the peace) so it will just be a simple celebration.

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I wish you passion and joy and sweet birdsong.


I wish this for you.

I wish you follow what brings your heart joy.

That you discover what zings and zaps your spirit–and let that delight you.

Whatever it might be.

If you love taking pictures, take a million photos and allow your happiness to bubble up and spill over into your computer, your blog posts, your art shows, your gifts.

If you love writing, write up a storm, my friend!  Let your delight sparkle like fireflies on warm dark August nights.

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Some day, politically speaking


Some fine day I will not ever again rise to the bait of beloved family members or dear friends who express opposing political opinions.

Some day I will allow them, totally 100% allow them, their beloved opinions (whether I like their opinions or not.)

Some day you will not hear me defending my candidate, oh no.  At least not against your candidate.

I will merely listen to you, fully be present with you, allowing your words to sift down to my heart, like the way we once sifted flour to separate grain and chaff.

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Mean-hearted comments


I have such trouble figuring out people who can make mean comments.

People who write or speak from their anger, their frustration, their fighting spirit.

People who use their tongue or pen to maim, injure, destroy.

I usual react the opposite, knowing how fragile our spirits can be.  The human being often needs careful loving, gentle handling.  Some people call that “coddling the ego”, but I think kindness goes further to reconcile us than knives and guns and negative tongues.

We’re all perfect the way we are–AND we need to change a little.  That’s one of the paradoxes of life.  We are magnificent personalities exploring this existence on a blue and green spinning planet–and we are also egos attempting to create something new, something different.  We’re both embracing life and pushing it away.

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Miss Marianne and the Missed Memories, eh?

Three leaves



Help a challenged woman with her memory issues.

Here’s the deal, regular readers.

At 11 a.m. EST the phone shall ring and I will talk with a dear blogging friend for the first time.

Her name is Marianne and she writes a lovely blog called Grandeurvision:  A woman’s journey to find meaning in life.  I’ve been reading Marianne’s blog–and she’s been reading mine–for a long time.  A year?  Two?  Three?

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