I got the Covid booster at my local CVS because it was easier and closer than the location my doc’s office was using. I didn’t want to drive home all the way from Del Mar just in case I had another allergic reaction.
There was a line even though we all had appointments, but I was glad to see so many people getting vaccines and boosters.
The woman behind me had her four-year-old daughter with her and clearly didn’t anticipate a wait so she hadn’t brought any books or toys for her little girl who was becoming slightly impatient. (Me too!)
I’ve learned that sometimes it helps to distract kids by engaging in conversation and told her how much I liked her sparkly shirt and that did it; I had a friend for life! She responded by telling me she loved my curly hair. I showed her photos of my adorable Angel Kids, the one with hair curlier than mine and the other with fiery titian hair.
“Hey, mom, LOOK! She has red hair just like me!”
“Are you my grandma too?
“No, honey, I’m grandma to this little boy and this little girl.”
“Can I see more pictures?”
Her mom nodded approval, so we spent a few minutes looking at pictures of T and C, which distracted her until it was my turn for the vaccine and we said goodbye.
It wasn’t as fulfilling as spending time with my own angels, but it still felt good to share some of my grandma magic.
It’s been an hour post-booster, and I guess I’ll live. I had a very slight allergic reaction, a little throat issue and asthma. They brought me Gatorade and readied an EpiPen but I didn’t need it because my albuterol inhaler helped forestall a severe respiratory issue. Even thought I had forced hydration for the last couple of days, I was PARCHED and drank the giant thirty two ounce bottle in about five minutes.
When I got home, I took Benadryl and Tylenol because I already had a headache and chills which tells me that I still have a robust immune system, nothing that ginger tea and a soft blanket can’t fix.
Oh, and the nice people from CVS gave me stickers for my Angel Kids, so I’m a happy, fully vaxxed grandma.
Here’s what I think about the insane and repressive new Texas law restricting abortion…
They don’t care about the fetus; all they care about is controlling women. I’m right, don’t try to argue with me.
If you don’t have a uterus, you have NO RIGHT to tell ME what to do with my uterus.
If you DO have a uterus, you have NO RIGHT to tell ME what to do with my uterus.
My body, my choice. You do YOU, and I’ll do ME. We’ve done this before, we already fought for the right to make our own decisions for our own bodies. This is such BS.
I’m proud of Lyft, Uber, and GoDaddy who have made statements in support of women’s rights.
I will protest with Naral and Planned Parenthood for all women to have a CHOICE.
FACTS: A new law (SB8) went into effect in Texas that bans abortions after about six weeks of pregnancy. That’s well before many women even know they are pregnant.
The law allows private citizens to sue abortion providers and anyone else who helps a woman obtain an abortion — including those who give a woman a ride to a clinic or provide financial assistance to obtain an abortion. Private citizens who bring these suits don’t need to show any connection to those they are suing.
The law makes no exceptions for cases involving rape or incest. (Source:NPR)
Late yesterday afternoon I dragged my poor little broken body out for a walk. “If you don’t use it,you lose it”, that’s my motto. I think it’s best to keep moving unless it’s impossible.
I was about three blocks away when I saw a few neighbor friends in their front yard so I stopped for a chat, mainly to bore them with photos of the grandkids.
Without warning, lights and sirens from no less than eight police cars, two fire engines, and paramedics drove right by us at a high rate of speed in our residential ‘hood. I checked PulsePoint and noted that they were going to a house just a few doors down from where we were.
A medical emergency isn’t unusual, but when it’s accompanied by heavy law enforcement–well, that’s a different story.
“Let’s go see”, I said, and we did.
It turned out that the medical emergency might have been related to an overdose, which sort of explains the police.
The person was on the ground and when my friend saw who it was, he became upset because it was one of his best friends. I instructed him to immediately call the spouse who wasn’t home at the time, had no idea, and was grateful for the call.
Allegedly, the person was impaired and fell, sustaining injuries, and someone else in the home called the paramedics.
My friend didn’t seem to know how to acquire info from the police or paramedics, so I did what I do–take charge of an emergency situation, communicate with all parties, liaise, and sort out the situation.
After the injured person was worked on by paramedics, was talking and breathing OK, stabilized for transport to the hospital and the spouse knew where to go, I continued on my walk.
I contemplated the many times I’ve been either personally involved in crises or as a bystander, and how I seem to exhibit a calm demeanor that encourages others to look to me for answers, to take charge, and to coordinate all aspects of the situation.
I KNEW I did those things but I had never before realized that is something I’m pretty good at. I don’t know where I learned them. It’s just something instinctual, I guess.
Whether it’s a fire or an accident or my son’s surgery, I don’t panic. I go to a place of calm, unemotional, rational, measured assessment while others tend to become stressed and unable to function.
My son once asked me how I survived his life threatening brief illness and major surgery because I seemed so calm. He asked me if I got upset or if I cried because he saw me as strong and capable during that horrible time and I told him this: during his surgery, I went into the bathroom in the waiting room and broke down and cried only one time. Then I looked in the mirror and told myself to STOP. What I never divulged to him was the mantra I kept repeating to myself, “If I cry, he dies. If I cry, he dies.” Truthfully, without the lifesaving emergency surgery, he would not be here now with those two adorable children. I felt as if I willed him to survive. And he did. After it was all over and he was on the mend, I was able to let go of my steely resolve a bit and helped to love him back to health. Every once in a while we talk about that dark time and how his wife and I never left his side, how we both spent every day and slept next to him every night at the hospital until he was released. SIGH.
I realize now with a little self awareness that I have been able to endure unspeakable pain by being stoic. It’s not that I don’t feel the emotion and the fear and the danger, but my mind seems to go to a different place and I compartmentalize (as my therapist would say) the feelings until later. Stuff needs to get done, someone needs to take charge and be a leader or there’s chaos.
Will this senseless murder of a species never end? What the hell is wrong with Oregon?
From Defenders of Wildlife:
“It’s a heartbreaking world we live in when even a pair of weeks-old wolf pups aren’t safe. We’re enraged at these senseless killings of wolf pups just barely out of their dens. We know you haven’t given up hope that we can save the wildlife who need us most. These wolves are counting on us – and we can’t do this alone.”
Our ability to fight back depends on US. Please donate.
Rep. Peter DeFazio or Oregon released the following statement in response to a report that the State shot and killed two wolf pups on Sunday.
“The state of Oregon killed two 3-month-old wolf pups under the irrational premise that it would somehow lessen the food needs of the pack. Wolf pups are no threat to livestock,” said Rep. DeFazio. “Nearly 80 years after a federal extermination campaign nearly wiped out the species, I will not sit by and allow the reimplementation of cruel, inhumane, and unscientific policies that degrade local ecosystems. I have called on Interior Secretary Haaland to expeditiously relist the Gray Wolf under the Endangered Species Act to prevent their likely extinction.”
In July, Rep. DeFazio led a bipartisan group of 85 representatives in a letter to Secretary of the Interior Deb Haaland urging her to reconsider the decision to delist the Gray Wolf under the Endangered Species Act (ESA). The Members emphasized the support of over 400 scientists in calling for federal protections for wolves, citing new state laws allowing for hunting practices that have resulted in the killing of hundreds of wolves in the span of a few months – threatening the species’ survival. The Members also stressed that decimating the wolf population would be detrimental to local ecosystems. Full text of the letter can be found here.
DONATE NOW:
Today is the last day to make your urgent gift to protect vulnerable species that we love!
Wolf Protection Fund Fundraiser by Defenders of Wildlife:
From pickles to the contemplation of broken glass and mirrors; apparently that’s how my mind works!
I’ve always been fascinated by kaleidoscopes; pieces of things that collide to create something beautiful–but fleeting
Peering into one, it seems as if this human-made created and patterned universe of colorful swirling glass morphs into artificial realities.
What’s the question here? Is it that reality doesn’t seem real anymore.or are we simply a fractured, fragmented view of another reality?
In a kaleidoscope, that which exists for an instant will disappear; ephemeral, never to be seen again in that same way, even though the original, organic pieces are still there.
Reality: the world or the state of things as they actually exist, as opposed to an idealistic or notional idea of them. Or, the state or quality of having existence or substance.
One small flick of the wrist and our entire universe can change. Just like a kaleidescope. In any reality. Or any sort of purgatory.
I like to share quotes from others:
“It was as if her life was a huge kaleidoscope, and the kaleidoscope had been turned and now everything was changed. The same stones shaken, no longer made the same design.” Author: Betsy Byars
“Forrest Gump had it wrong. Life is not a box of chocolate; it’s a kaleidoscope. In the flip of a wrist, realities are shredded and the world takes on a totally new shape.” Author: Carolyn Haines
Life is like an ever-shifting kaleidoscope; a slight change and all patterns alter. Author: Sharon Salzberg
I like to know how things work. I like answers.
Science tells me that it’s the incline of the two mirrors inside a kaleidoscope that determines the number of times the pattern created by the reflection of an object is repeated. However, I can’t say that I’ve ever seen a repeated pattern. At least, not that I remember.
A kaleidoscope is an optical instrument with two or more reflecting surfaces tilted to each other in an angle, so that one or more (parts of) objects on one end of the mirrors are seen as a regular symmetrical pattern when viewed from the other end, due to repeated reflection.
Each component works together synergistically to create an illusion of reality–and then it’s gone.
Obviously I have zero answers to all deep questions; my pondering and contemplations are ephemeral and transitory–kaleidoscopic. My brain can only handle a tiny bit of this at any given time; now I need to watch a couple of episodes of the new Dynasty. Balance. It’s all about balance.
In a Minneapolis, Minnesota courtroom, former cop Derek Chauvin was convicted of all charges relating to the murder of George Floyd.
Even better, his bail was revoked and he’ll be in custody for eight weeks until the sentencing hearing. Did anybody but me notice how his little eyes were darting back and forth above his mask? Such arrogance. It seemed as if he really thought he was going to be acquitted. NOPE.
Gotta say, this was very satisfying to watch.
Thousands of others have written with more eloquence than I’m capable of about this trial, so I’m only going to share my observations and my own opinions.
Justice did NOT prevail. Accountability prevailed. Justice would have George Floyd alive and breathing after he was arrested for ALLEGEDLY paying with a counterfeit twenty dollar bill. Chauvin got a trial, but George did not. Bad cops made sure he didn’t have a chance.
It’s simple. Police cannot be judge, jury, and executioners, but they were in this situation. All four of them. They are ALL guilty, in my opinion.
The only reason there was ANY accountability at all was because a teenager named Darnella Frazier had the brains and courage to use her phone to record the nine minutes and twenty-nine seconds it took for Derek Chauvin to murder George Floyd. She continued recording despite threats from the cops on the scene.
I hope we can all be as brave as she was–don’t walk away, don’t pretend police brutality isn’t happening. Take out your cell phone and memorialize the abuse. Darnella Frazier is an inspiration to BE better and DO better.
What is even more frightening is a report I read somewhere (can’t remember to cite the article so I’ll paraphrase) about the recruiting of white supremacists and paramilitary types to our police forces and military. There has been investigation and speculation that white supremacists and militias have infiltrated police across the country.
Law enforcement failed to respond to far-right domestic terror threats and racist militant activities in more than a dozen states since 2000. Police officers have been caught posting racist and bigoted social media content.
Police links to militias and white supremacist groups have been uncovered in states including Alabama, California, Connecticut, Florida, Illinois, Louisiana, Michigan, Nebraska, Oklahoma, Oregon, Texas, Virginia, Washington and West Virginia.
If we have any doubt that there is systemic racism in this country, we need look no further than active police officers training the Oath Keepers for a possible Civil War.
Nearly a year after America rose up in horror and anger at the tragic murder of George Floyd and cried out in opposition to generations of systemic racism, a jury in Minneapolis delivered a long-awaited first step toward accountability. While we know that true justice would mean that George Floyd was with us today, living free of fear of racism and police violence, I’m glad that we can at least say that with this verdict, the arc of the moral universe bent ever so slightly further toward justice.
The American legal system should be a beacon of accountability around the globe, and I’m glad that with the eyes of the world upon us, it lived up to that promise in this case. But at the same time, I’m all too aware that this same accountability and justice has never come for countless Black, brown, and Indigenous women and men in America.
I hope that this moment is a turning point for the real action and reform desperately needed to ensure our country can live up to its most sacred promise: that all men and women are created equal. While we unequivocally declare the truth that Black Lives Matter, it is long past time for the meaningful changes needed to allow Black Americans an opportunity to thrive.
My thoughts tonight are with George Floyd’s family and friends as they continue to grieve his loss and work toward lasting change.
"It was a sense of relief … that the moral arc of the universe bent ever so slightly more toward justice today."
A vigil for George Floyd is planned for Sunday evening at a park in my little town. I probably won’t attend because I’m still wary of public gatherings. If I change my mind, I’ll post photos.
Did anyone watch the televised funeral of Prince Philip, Queen Elizabeth’s husband? He died on April 9. Despite one’s personal opinion of the monarchy and their fame, celebrity, and notoriety–tossing aside the gossip, this is a story of enduring love.
I watched some of it and was deeply touched by how small and solitary Queen Elizabeth looked as she sat alone. I turned it off because it didn’t seem right to intrude on her grief.
They had been married for almost seventy-four years.
How tragic for her to lose her life partner, the one she shared great times and the not-so-good times, the highs and the lows, but through it all, there was a shared and sacred commitment to going through life as a loving team; against all odds.
Their eyes focused on each other in this photo really touched my heart:
It reminded me of a Queen song and how ironic is THAT, even more so considering I never heard it before last week when I put American Idol on for a few minutes and one of the contestants sang “Love of My Life“.
Like a ship that runs aground because of low tide or unseen rocks or fog or navigational errors, our beautiful heart can be damaged when blood flow is restricted or when it flows unregulated.
Heart/wrecked.
I grew up hearing the term, “Stress kills.”
I was never quite sure what that meant, but then I did when it happened to me.
After a seemingly nonstop barrage of a personal stressful situation–like a ship hitting the rocks over and over again–it all finally took an undeniable toll on my physical health.
One of my favorite places to live is in the state of Denial, but I’ve been forced to temporarily move to a new town called Reality. Hopefully, I’ll just visit there for a bit until I can come home again.
After experiencing some intermittent and strangely terrifying heart pains, I went to the doc who took my blood pressure and was concerned about the results. It was super high. I had always had enviably LOW blood pressure since I exercise regularly, am vegan and never smoked, so this raised concerns.
Over the course of a couple weeks, my BP was checked daily and it stayed consistently high; dangerously high, which only made me more anxious and more stressed, and at one of the office visits, I started hyperventilating and had a panic attack. (Super embarrassing for the doc and absolutely mortifying for me.)
This led to an order for an Echocardiogram along with all the other heart-focused tests. The echo was done at a local hospital–a definite trigger. No one wants to go to a hospital at any time, but especially during Covid. It seemed like I was being admitted, with a wrist band and lots of little stickers, and I was devastated.
I almost bolted out of the front door at that point, but I persevered. I can share with you that it’s a scary time when you have to figure out why you don’t feel great. I’ve been a medical advocate for several loved ones, but it’s radically more difficult when you have to care for yourself. Poor me.
The technician was amazing, especially considering I tormented her with a million questions. I know enough about medical stuff to see that she was concentrating on a certain area of my heart. I really appreciated her patience with me and her detailed explanations during the hour-long ordeal.
The results showed a dilated aortic root valve and regurgitation of the mitral valve.
What this means is that the accumulation of stress and panic attacks and PTSD that I’ve endured during the last four years manifested medically and physically and caused structural damage to my heart.
“Severe physical or emotional stress increases blood pressure to the point where the tensile limit of the aortic tissue is overwhelmed, causing the rupture.”
“Over time, certain conditions, such as high blood pressure, can cause your heart to work harder, gradually enlarging your heart’s left ventricle.”
“Mitral valve regurgitation can cause complications such as atrial fibrillation, in which the atria of the heart don’t contract well. This leads to increased risk of stroke. Also, elevated blood pressure in the lungs (pulmonary artery hypertension).”
Hypertension makes the blood push harder against the valve and causes it to dilate, enlarge, and that’s pretty much the same scenario for the mitral valve, which seems to be the cause of the intermittent chest pain.
I’ll need to be monitored regularly because if I can’t control the stress/blood pressure and the valves stretch to a dangerous size, the only solution is surgical intervention–or death.
Reducing stress and hypertension can possibly keep the valves from enlarging any further, but the damage is done–nothing will make them reduce in size back to normal, except surgery.
Let me tell you that it’s true. Stress kills.
Now I’m off to change course, take some magnesium, eat more beets, meditate, calm down and regulate my breathing so that I don’t have a stroke or an aneurysm.
This year, October 10 is known as Columbus Day. Some states have proposed legislation to legally replace the holiday, but as of today, none have passed.
I don’t acknowledge Columbus Day because it’s more of the same; entitled males making unilateral decisions without regard for anything but their own selfishness.
They continually attempt to push candidates and legislation that will eventually completely strip women of any right to autonomy over our own body.
Even the grandkids know what this day really is all about: good for my son/DIL talking TRUTH.
When you start hearing and reading this phrase EVERYWHERE, out of the blue, you sit up like a meerkat and take notice.
(And yes, you aren’t imagining things; I did write another post about the word forgive that showed up on my radar. Now it’s the phrase, dark night of the soul. I’ve been trying to finish writing this post for about three weeks.)
During my own personal Bataan death march of this involuntary tortuous journey of soul discovery, I dipped my toe into the maelstrom of an agonizing Weltschmerz.
Since I’m an introspective and insightful sort of person, a swirling thought began to form in my gray matter: why am I seeing these words? (I don’t have an answer yet.)
From blog posts to Deepak Chopra to random articles on the internet, there seems to be a plethora of attention fixed on the “dark night of the soul”, just exactly like I saw wetiko at every turn for a while.
What does it all mean? Wetiko…forgive…dark night of the soul… Is there a connection?
What IS the dark night of the soul?
It’s a chicken and egg sort of conundrum: Which comes first, depression or darkness?
Have YOU experienced it?
What I’ve learned is that this is so true: “Wherever you go, there you are.” You can’t run from yourself, you can’t distract the pain with anything; you’ve got to face it head on and hopefully make it through to the other side.
Are we experiencing it collectively as humankind? Or should I better refer to it humanUNkind…
“If you aren’t in the moment, you are either looking forward to uncertainty, or back to pain and regret. “—Jim Carrey
So I did a little research.
Eckhardt Tolle describes it this way:
“The ‘dark night of the soul’ is a term that goes back a long time. It is a term used to describe what one could call a collapse of a perceived meaning in life…an eruption into your life of a deep sense of meaninglessness. The inner state in some cases is very close to what is conventionally called depression. Nothing makes sense anymore, there’s no purpose to anything. Sometimes it’s triggered by some external event, some disaster perhaps, on an external level. The death of someone close to you could trigger it, especially premature death, for example if your child dies. Or you had built up your life, and given it meaning – and the meaning that you had given your life, your activities, your achievements, where you are going, what is considered important, and the meaning that you had given your life for some reason collapses.
It can happen if something happens that you can’t explain away anymore, some disaster which seems to invalidate the meaning that your life had before. Really what has collapsed then is the whole conceptual framework for your life, the meaning that your mind had given it. So that results in a dark place. But people have gone into that, and then there is the possibility that you emerge out of that into a transformed state of consciousness. Life has meaning again, but it’s no longer a conceptual meaning that you can necessarily explain. Quite often it’s from there that people awaken out of their conceptual sense of reality, which has collapsed.
They awaken into something deeper, which is no longer based on concepts in your mind. A deeper sense of purpose or connectedness with a greater life that is not dependent on explanations or anything conceptual any longer. It’s a kind of re-birth. The dark night of the soul is a kind of death that you die. What dies is the egoic sense of self. Of course, death is always painful, but nothing real has actually died there – only an illusory identity. Now it is probably the case that some people who’ve gone through this transformation realized that they had to go through that, in order to bring about a spiritual awakening. Often it is part of the awakening process, the death of the old self and the birth of the true self.
The dark night of the soul occurs when you confront your innermost fears and feel them completely and deeply. These are fears that you’ve had, but which you previously kept from conscious awareness by staying busy, using intoxicants, or willing yourself not to think about them.
In a cycle of irony, when we hide our fears from conscious awareness, it’s because we are afraid of our own fears. Yet, when we face the fears, we can see how illogical and powerless they are. That’s when we are no longer ruled or controlled by unconscious fears. It’s true freedom!
In a dark night of the soul, you feel totally alone in the world, completely misunderstood, as if you don’t fit in anywhere. You feel like your life doesn’t matter, so what’s the use of carrying on? It’s painful!
If you can stay with the emotions, including the very painful ones, the dark night of the soul can actually lift your whole life to a higher and clearer level.
Nobody wishes for a dark night of the soul, and it’s not something that you can create artificially. Basically, it just happens when you least expect it, usually because something has triggered a deep and dark emotional place inside of you.
Dark nights of the soul, like every part of life, serve a healing and useful function. The dark night of the soul is a mirror that you hold up to yourself so that you can see the contents of your ego’s fears. A lot of the painful emotions you’re experiencing are connected to situations that happened in your childhood. Present-day situations are triggering painful memories.
Don’t numb your pain or run away from your emotions. They’re your teachers! Just keep asking your painful feelings, “What are you here to teach me?”
Ultimately, it will boil down to this: forgiving yourself and everyone who has ever hurt you is the only way to escape the pain. You don’t need to forgive their actions. You definitely should still stand up for yourself and be truthful about your feelings. And you don’t want to stand for any form of abuse. But forgiveness is essential as the ultimate detox. Let go of the past in all directions of time and finally be free.”
From Kosmos Journal for Global Transformation:
“Anyone may go through a period of sadness or challenge that is so deep-seated and tenacious that it qualifies as a dark night of the soul. Not long ago I was giving a talk at a university when a man shouted at me from back in the crowd: “I’m terribly depressed. It’s been years. Help me.” I shouted back my email address. In his voice and body language I could see that this man was not caught in some passing depression. His life was broken by some loss, failure, or long-forgotten emotional wound that left him in a desperately dark place.
I reserve the expression ‘dark night of the soul’ for a dark mood that is truly life-shaking and touches the foundations of experience, the soul itself. But sometimes a seemingly insignificant event can give rise to a dark night: You may miss a train and not attend a reunion that meant much to you. Often a dark night has a strong symbolic quality in that it points to a deeper level of emotion and perhaps a deeper memory that gives it extra meaning. With dark nights you always have to be alert for the invisible memories, narratives, and concerns that may not be apparent on the surface.
Faced with a dark night, many people treat it like an illness, like depression. They may take medication or go into counseling looking for a cause. It can be useful to search for the roots of a dark night, but in my experience the best way to deal with it is to find the concrete action or decision that it is asking for.”
And from Dr. Deepak Chopra:
Have you experienced this? Do you think it’s severe depression, mental illness, or is a dark night of the soul a rite of passage to happiness, peace, and harmony?
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 