“Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair.”

From Brown Penny by W.B. Yeats
“Ah, penny, brown penny, brown penny, I am looped in the loops of her hair.”

From Brown Penny by W.B. Yeats
It’s the time of year for parent-teacher conferences in most school districts. I was thinking about the time my parents went to a meeting and they were told that I wasn’t living up to — or performing to — “my highest potential” which has been the story of my life’s path.
I was VERYVERY smart but I wasn’t doing as well as my teachers expected, especially in math and science. According to all of them, I was capable of great things and should pursue a career as a doctor and my dad also thought I’d be a great lawyer, following in his footsteps. I’m not exactly sure why I didn’t finish either of those life paths, although I sort of started down that road, maybe because there were obstacles in the way, like studying. lol. “I wasn’t applying myself” became the repetitive theme.
Those thoughts sent me on a rabbit hole to learn more about my own life path and numerology.
Numerology is the belief in the mystical relationship between numbers and events, used to interpret character or divine the future by calculating a person’s key numbers from their name and birth date. It is a system that assigns numerical values to letters and uses these values, along with your birth date, to provide insight into your personality and life path.
Modern numerology is often based on the ideas of the ancient Greek philosopher Pythagoras, who believed the physical world is a manifestation of the energetic vibrations of numbers.
In a crazy coincidence, I realized that I initially wrote about this subject exactly one year ago. Or maybe it’s not a coincidence, whatcha think?
Anyway, I have no regrets because It all worked out as it should.
Due to my not exactly poor, but not exactly stellar academic performance, and especially since I declined the gifted program because I saw how those kids were ridiculed for being nerds and I wanted to be COOL, I instinctively knew how to encourage the Original Angel Boy to love learning and reading and offered supportive nurturing opportunities anywhere he expressed an interest.
For example, when he was six-years-old and interested in dinosaurs, I took it a step further and brought him to the Natural History Museum so he could meet with the paleontologists. They included him in a project categorizing dino bones and gave him some fossils to bring home.
When he realized that the local paper had misnamed a dinosaur found around here, I called the paper and they sent a reporter and photographer to the house to interview him…and yes I still have about a dozen or so of the articles which I’ve shown to the Angel Kids. “Look at Daddy!”
When he wanted to be a reporter, I called the local radio station and set up a meeting with one of his favorite bands that were in town, Trixter, (don’t judge, it was the 90s). After he interviewed them on-air, they gave us backstage passes to the show and we hung out in their tour bus. They were really nice guys and very kind to the Angel Boy, only now I’m thinking to myself, why didn’t I do the same thing with Leon Russell? Another missed opportunity. SIGH.
Since Reading Rainbow with LeVar Burton was AB’s favorite TV show, he wrote a poem for a contest hosted by the local PBS station. All the local kids who participated were brought to the station and I still have the group photo. He won something, but not the national award. The only thing that mattered to me was that he TRIED, not whether he won or lost.
I did all this so he wouldn’t end up like me and it worked. He’s still passionate about learning, reading, and writing, and now he pays it forward by teaching the next generation, so I’m very proud of myself, and AB of course. His bright future was actualized and came to fruition.
Do you know how to figure out your Life Path and Master Numbers?
Add your birth date/day/year.
For example, if your date of birth is 2/12/1938…2+1+2+1+9+3+8 = 26, which is reduced to 2+6=8.
The Life Path number of 8 indicates someone with natural leadership skills, wealth potential, and management talent, but must always use that power for good and avoid greed. They excel at business and finance.
In this case, there is no Master Number because a MN is is a special type of life path number that is a double-digit (11, 22, or 33) and is not reduced to a single digit. I don’t really understand much of this, but it’s so interesting!
My own Life Path Number is 2 and my Master Number is 11, one of the most rare of all numbers, as it can be reduced to 2, my Life Path Number.
Here’s what it’s supposed to mean for me:
Master Number 11 is associated with high intuition, spiritual insight, and a duality that requires balancing a spiritual path with material life. It’s sometimes called the “Illuminator” or “Spiritual Messenger” and represents a gateway to higher dimensions. Individuals with this number may experience challenges such as confusion and indecision, which emanates from a struggle to trust their intuition and a pendulum-like oscillation between extremes.
To be completely honest, I literally have no idea what that means.
Why is the number 11 so powerful?
The number 11 symbolizes the potential to push the limitations of the human experience into the stratosphere of the highest spiritual perception; the link between the mortal and the immortal; between human and spirit; between darkness and light; ignorance and enlightenment. This is the ultimate power of the 11.
Once again, I’m reminded that I really never did reach my full promise, so those early teachers were obviously correct in their assessment.
Check out your own Life Path and Master Numbers so you can decide if you are living up to your maximum potential. It’s never too late.
In the midst of this dystopian hellscape in which we’re enmired, something beautiful happened in my little beachy town, a glimmer of hope that humanity is not completely dead.
A hundred or so of our neighbors showed up to celebrate the retirement of everyone’s favorite mail carrier.
When news spread throughout his neighborhood routes that our special and beloved mailman was retiring after forty-two years, a plan was formed to host a potluck in his honor at our local park.
This guy has been more than someone who simply delivers our mail; he’s become one of the family. There are few people who have an inner light that shines brightly. We all have been touched by his many kindnesses and we wanted to return the love, not that we haven’t gifted him with things over the years, but this needed to be a spectacular celebration, a send-off he’d remember.
Families from all of his routes showed up with food, decorations, and gifts. People we’ve said hi to for decades now had a name, and we shared stories about our personal experiences; especially his sweet tooth!
Since I’m known to be extra, I contacted our mayor and asked him if he could possibly create some sort of formal commendation or award to present to this exemplary human. He liked the idea which had actually never been done in the history of our city, and asked me to write a little speech for him, which I did. He took it a step further and created Mailman Steve Day and presented him with a framed award.
It was an old-fashioned community gathering, enjoying a beautiful SoCal evening AND happily for me, a little Leon Russell chat.
I yelled out to a neighbor, “Hey, Leon!” because he has long white hair and a beard, so of course I always refer to him as “Leon”, and another neighbor said, “Why do you call him Leon? That’s Jim.” and I told him it’s because he looks like Leon Russell. His response was, “How do you know about Leon Russell? Do you know Mad Dogs and Englishmen?” I showed him the playlist on my phone and told him to pick a favorite Leon Russell song and he chose two of my personal faves, “Girl From The North Country” and “Cry Me a River”.
Someone else requested “Tight Rope” and “A Song For You” and as a crowd gathered, we had a proper singalong. These guys knew every word and we all marveled at the musical genius of the one and only Master of Space and Time. #goodtimes
Best of all for me is that I’m still referred to as “Jason’s mom” even after all these years. It was so heartwarming to have several forty-year-olds (!) fondly remembering the backyard skate ramp and shared lovely memories about my original angel boy. I am so very proud to be Jason’s mom.
This happy community gathering to honor our mailman shows me that there IS hope for our country, even if it’s hanging on by a thread.
P.S. Next Saturday, October 18, is another day to protest the regime, another NO KINGS DAY, and I’ll be on the frontlines to again gather with my neighbors, this time to protect free speech and save America.
A little timeline cleanse right now seems appropriate. At the end of the day, there is only love.

I’m at #3 with Angel Boy, #2 with Angel Girl.

I remember that the original Angel Boy was about fourteen years old when he entered the final stage, taller than me. Now I have to get on my tiptoes to hug him and HE bends down to me.
In my mind, he’s still and forever #1 or #2, so it doesn’t seem right that the roles have reversed, and it won’t be long before the Angel Kids will also be taller than me, because mostly everyone else is.
I guess that’s why they call me Little Grandma.
**I found this on Pinterest, but credit goes to artist Giselle Dekel.**
These incredibly observant Angel Kids of mine are full of nonstop chat as they watch my every move with their laser focused eyes and brains, especially when they sit at the counter (their favorite spot), waiting to be served exactly like baby birds in a nest with their beaks open wide for mom to bring a freshly caught worm..
“Why are you always in the kitchen, Grandma?” “It’s like you have a force field around you and you’re stuck in there.” (He is SO funny.)
“Yeah, Grandma, you’re always in the kitchen!” Angel Girl has to offer her opinion, too. ALWAYS.
I stop chopping veggies or flipping pancakes or cutting the crust off another slice of bread (only for Angel Girl), and respond with a question,
“Why are you guys always hungry?”
Well, that made them think a bit, that’s for sure.
“Good point”, Angel Boy 2.0 sagely nods as he ponders what I meant by that, as he chews on a slice of apple.
Those kids LOVE apples as a pre-meal snack. Sometimes dipped in nut butter, but they’re perfectly satisfied with a bowl of sliced apples.
The key is to give each of them their own bowl or they’ll squabble about equal amounts. “Why does s/he have more than me?” Since I only birthed one child, I’m not used to this kind of sibling behavior. I actually find it incredibly annoying and to avoid listening to it, for me, separate bowls are the easiest solution.
They eat a lot, not junk food or snacks, but wholesome and dense nutrition. That’s what healthy kids do; eat, play, sleep. They’re exactly like puppies. Their growing bodies and brains demand it and I’m only too happy to oblige.
“Play with us, Grandma. We’ll even play Candyland just for you. Or Scrabble.” That’s quite the concession on their part, as they know those are my two favorite games.
“How about after you guys have this smoothie and ants on a log and a (lentil/oat/kale) muffin, we’ll play. How does that sound?”
Two curly heads nod in unison.
Eat, play, sleep.
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Featured photo by Enchanted Seashells at Crystal Cove. Vintage kitchen, not mine.
Early this morning, I opened the back door and walked on the deck. Near the steps, I saw a motionless bee which I gently nudged with a stick and found him able to move ever so slightly. I brought him a small amount of water in a jar lid and watched as he thirstily inhaled a few drops. As soon as he had enough, he stumbled down the rest of the steps to a shady area on the ground.
I’m not sure if I helped him or simply prolonged the inevitable, but at least I did something to aid a living creature and that always feels good.
Later that morning, I went to the grocery store where I picked up some yummy cherries and cucumbers and avocados.
The woman in front of me had a lot of items and it looked like she was making a special dinner, maybe anniversary, or at least that was the little story I told myself as I patiently waited my turn.
I noticed that she didn’t have her own shopping bags and I watched the clerk take out a couple “store” bags and fill them with her food. After the food was paid for, the employee asked her for thirty cents to pay for the bags, which was really odd because usually they’ll ask before, so they can add it to the total. Right??? So my spidey senses were on alert as I observed the conversation.
The lady became flustered as she looked in her handbag because she didn’t have any cash or change. I could see that she was super embarrassed and I could totally relate. It didn’t seem as if she was unsheltered or didn’t have money; she was well dressed with great jewelry (I always notice stuff like that).
I said, “Let me check. I think I have thirty cents.” I usually don’t have ANY cash or coins either, but I did locate enough to pay for her store bags.
The poor woman was beside herself with gratitude, wanted to pay me back, couldn’t believe I would do that for a complete stranger, asked me my name, WAY overly intensely thankful and appreciative for a mere handful of coins.
I told her it was my pleasure to help and it wasn’t as if I offered to buy her food (haha) and she could pay it forward to someone else in the future and keep the good deed moving along.
Because her gratitude seemed oddly disproportionate, I thought it was possible that she had a bad day and my minor act of kindness gave her a bit of hope — who knows.
She did seem close to breaking down, poor dear. And all for THIRTY CENTS! I wonder if this was some sort of low rent scam so the employee could pocket the money, but that was most likely not the case. Anyway, it was a strange encounter and I was glad to help because it did seem that was the only way I was going to get out of the store, haha. (BTW, I had my own bags.)
Sometimes I’ll see someone do a kind but simply mundane gesture and I’ll just get filled with this unexplainable joy that someone did something nice for someone else with no strings attached; no ulterior motives, no agenda.
After that experience, I went to Sprouts because I was out of probiotics (I love probiotics). The woman in front of me in line (same scenario!) turned to me. She held out a couple pieces of candy wrapped in shiny gold foil and asked me if I wanted them. She said they were free and pointed to where she got them, somewhere else in the store.
I told her how much I LOVE free things (I really do) but asked why she didn’t want them. She explained that she had tasted another one and they were milk chocolate and she only likes dark chocolate. I said I like all variety of chocolate (except white) and gladly accepted her little gifts.
Two acts of kindness were immediately repaid by another; what a great (and sweet) day!
Featured image credit to oechsli.com
Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable. —Mary Oliver

Words by Mary Oliver – Art by Leonardo Di Aetherhart – Curated from Novelicious