Changing Weather

Changing Weather

It is a fact of life. The weather is changing. The seasons are overlapping, strange weather phenomenon. The weather forecasters are inventing new weather terms. White Cloud Formation: chem trails caused by jets. 

Super Derecho: one direction straight line winds. 

Haboobs - remember the dust storms of Phoenix? Popcorn Convection: Slang for showers and thunderstorms that form on a scattered basis with little or no apparent organization. 

I don’t recall any of those terms even a few years ago.

There is a reason for all the changes in the weather patterns, the kind of weather and the frequency of extreme weather. It is us, or rather I should say mankind that has done this.

Have you ever prayed for rain? Snow? Sunny days? Mild Days? Most of us have. I have. I think of the perfect weather I want and then I send out that hope and prayer.

Rain dances are performed by indigenous peoples of America. Many Native American tribes have performed these ceremonies over the years. Particularly in the Southwestern United States.

I watched an old movie with Burt Lancaster called the Rainmaker. It tells the story of a drought stricken country where a rainmaker promises to bring rain for one hundred dollars. They do get rain in the end. Sorry to spoil the ending for you, but you did have 55 years to watch it.

I came across a project being done by the United States government. It is called HAARP. It stands for High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program. Its purpose is to analyze the ionosphere and investigate the potential for developing ionospheric enhancement technology for radio communications and surveillance purposes. What does all that mean? It means the government plays god with our weather. They choose how, when, and where the weather should be modified. 

A united nations treaty was adopted in 1976, It prohibits the military or other hostile use of environmental modification weather. I wonder if this treaty is being honored. 

Lets ask the Native Americans how many treaty’s the American government has honored. 

What do we do? That is the question. The weather is changing, no one can deny it. Is someone or something to blame? The answer is yes. It is us.

Extreme weather patterns are the result of an imbalance in our Earth Mother. She is a living being, and when we drill, blast, test nuclear weapons, develop chemicals, release deadly gases and microwave our earth, we cause this imbalance to take place. In smaller doses she can heal from these abuses, but in mega-doses, it is deadly. We are killing our Mother and she is reflecting it back to us. We have misused her gifts. We must stop our deadly misuse of her precious gifts. 

Have you ever been to a Landfill. That is the final resting place for unwanted waste. Our waste. It is not a pretty sight, and the smell is one you remember for a long time.

This is a quote from today’s news article from the www.independent.co.uk  The news article titled: “The world's rubbish dump: a tip that stretches from Hawaii to Japan, tells the story ...

A "plastic soup" of waste floating in the Pacific Ocean is growing at an alarming rate and now covers an area twice the size of the continental United States, scientists have said.”

What do we do? What do I do? That is for each of us to decide individually. Our survival depends on the choices we make now. Mankind has created this disease and now we must heal this disease. 

There is a new TV series, called Terra Nova. It is a portrayal of one possible outcome for our abuse of our mother. The earth is dead, humans are looking for a way out. They choose to travel to the past to find a new beginning. Rats from a sinking ship. Bringing with them the diseases of a broken civilization. 

We are very close to making that same mistake. We only have one earth ... one ship. When we make poor choices we poke another hole in our ship. It is no longer us and them. What happens in the bow affects the stern. If  our ship sinks, we all loose. Rats with no place to swim, except in our own garbage.

Start making a difference. Do it with your wallets and purses. Use green to make it green again. The bottom line ... profits. If we no longer buy it, they will no longer make it. Simple as that. 

The weather forecast is up to us...stormy weather or clear skies ahead...

Chuck Norris and Pilar Wayne

Chuck and Pilar’s Room

There I was standing in Chucks room, mirrors covering the walls. Pictures of Chuck everywhere. I was proud of what I had done.  I was first introduced to chuck from the movie’s I had watched. He was tough and rugged and good looking.

I learned about mirrors from W.W. He apprenticed me. Taught me how to be successful in my life. He was good with his hands, could do almost anything. We worked together for almost 3 years, almost every day we would head out in that red truck. When people called, we showed up. 

I have been in some fabulous homes and offices. Showcases right out of the magazines. Architectural Digest. That was the place to be seen. My mirrors were included in several issues. 

Later when a call came from the Temple in Provo and Sandy, I was the one who was sent out on the job. Crystal chandeliers, beautiful paintings and ornate woodwork. It was a fun assignment.

I was sent out to do a job at place in Newport Beach. That was quite an experience. I knocked on the door and the maid answered. I told her that I was there to fix a problem. She took me through the house to the bedroom. There you are, she said. I walked in to inspect the job and there was Pilar. Laid out drunk on the bed. Sound asleep. I went back and got the maid. Oh, don’t pay any attention to Pilar, go ahead and do your work, she will never know you are here. So I did. Took me a couple of hours and then I left. Over the next several years I visited that bedroom many times. Each time I added another mirror. When I left, there was no room left for any more mirrors. It was totally mirrored.

I mirrored all 4 walls and ceiling in one bath. Kitchens were great places to put mirrors, I did one whole ceiling in a kitchen, it was amazing. I got a call from a hot tub sales room. They wanted me to install 2 way mirrors in a wall so they could use a hidden camera. I don’t even want to know the reason. I used black mirrors, gold mirrors, brown mirrors and speckled mirrors.

I have installed hundreds of mirrors, thousands over the years. That is how I happened to be in Chuck’s room. It was just before I left California and moved back to Utah. Chuck wanted me to install mirrors on the entire wall of his workout room. There was exercise equipment of every description. Chuck was a movie star. 

I never met Chuck Norris, he was so busy with his fame and movies, he was seldom home. That is the way it was with so many who installed those fancy mirrors.

Mirrors can help us as useful tools when we need to reflect an image back to us. They can increase the light or change the mood. Some times we hide behind those same mirrors. Use them to create illusions. Usually to altar our own perceptions of who we are. I have a few mirrors left. They help to remind me of my life when I was unsure of myself. I have come out from behind my mirror, I see myself in a new light. I like my reflection now, it  helps to give me a picture of what other people see. One of the best things that I ever did with a mirror was to really look at the person in that mirror. Me. I looked into those eyes and saw something that touched my soul. I gazed into my own eyes and saw a part of me that I had never noticed before. I looked until my eyes began to tear, and then I said, I love you. You are a creation of God. There is nothing that we can’t do ...

Pilar Wayne was a wonderful cook ... She made me quiche one day, it was wonderful. I got her cookbook and had her sign it for me. She has a website and sells paintings now. She is multitalented. I looked through the pictures. I didn’t see any of me there ... But John is.

Bouncing Babies

Bouncing Babies

Bouncing Babies, that is how the day began. I was invited to attend a special ceremony where my niece and husband were blessing their new baby. This is a traditional time for new infants to be introduced into religious society. The proud parents and grandparents and extended family who had come to witness this joyous occasion were sitting in the audience. As the time was announced to perform this ritual, various men from the family walked solemnly to the front of the room. They watched as the newborn baby was brought forward. Each man became part of a circle with the baby in the center. And then it began. The bounce. I don’t know where that came from but it always takes place. Sometimes the bounce is subtle and sometimes it looks like the kid is on a trampoline. 

One of the men pronounces a blessing on the child and then it is over. 

Except for the pose. That’s where the proud family hold the child up to let everyone see the newest member of the congregation. Inexperienced fathers sometimes fumble and come close to dropping the newborn. Today was perfect. No fumbles. This baby was beautiful, but some are hard to hold a straight face when the pose is done. 

The rest of the meeting consisted of various members of the audience sharing stories or memories of experiences that they have encountered in life. Todays meeting was a good occasion. A time for family’s to bond, celebrate, and give thanks for life and the blessings they have received.

I have been in other ceremonies where fathers present their newborn to the heavens and the Gods to ask for blessings and wisdom to help that child become the man or woman that he is meant to be. 

We look at the cultural differences between our traditions and others and we are not always kind in our observations. We assume that God only recognizes the actions of a modern society. Our society. Backwards countries and cultures who do rituals and ceremonies to worship their God are frowned upon by enlightened people. 

I felt the tender feelings today in that meeting. People of faith. Full of hope in the future. Hard working men and women who are providing for the needs of these newborn babies. Each wanting to provide the best that life has to offer. 

Did God accept this newborn? Does he love any of his children any less if they don’t experience the bounce? Or the pose? Thank God, for understanding our weaknesses and faults. God allows us to grow and develop into the magnificent Sons and Daughters that we are. At the end of our days, he welcomes all his children back into his arms. No judgements. No requirements. It doesn’t matter whether or not they get the bounce and the pose. We will all be welcomed into his arms. 

Today I saw an old friend. She was part of the program. Part of my life at one time. She shared her experience of life. My heart skipped a beat when I saw her. There was a time when she wrote letters of encouragement to me. That was during my 2 year assignment to Boston. Her beautiful long red hair was now short. She looked as beautiful today as I remembered her back then, and I am grateful for those letters so many years ago. She helped to make me who I am today. We choose different paths nearly 40 years ago. We have experienced different ceremonies and witnessed different rituals in our paths. It doesn’t matter to me. It doesn’t matter to God. We will experience the same loving Father when our journey is completed. That’s what family’s are all about. Living together in peace and harmony regardless of our bounce or pose.

Boulder mountain

Boulder Mountain’s last days

I was driving over Boulder Mountain on my way to visit family and friends friday. I stopped and watch several large groups of deer that were on the side of the road. They are so beautiful to watch. Mostly Does and half grown fawns. I slowed down and kept pace with 3 turkeys who were walking along their way. It was a peaceful drive. I noticed the stands of aspen trees standing bare against the breeze that was beginning to blow. Large olds stands of trees surrounded by young trees clustered around them. It looked like children gathering around their parents. Aspens colonies can grow very large and survive forest fires because their root systems grow beneath the ground and send new shoots after the fires. Aspen colonies can live for thousands of years, one of the oldest is here in Utah, possibly as old as 80,000 years old.

Aspens do not thrive in the shade. The new trees do not do well in already mature stands. That is why I saw the aspen trees growing in circles, like waves in a pond. The oldest at the center with succeeding generations growing out from the original. Boulder mountain is very beautiful. The leaves are gone now. The road crews have the snows to worry about. The road is only plowed during the daylight hours. The tourists are mostly gone, the road is solitary once more. Mostly local people and cattle men who are gathering their cattle off the mountain. I had all these things going through my mind when I passed the road to Lower Bowns reservoir.

That brings me to my story. With talk of 11-11-11, the mayan calendar and what lies ahead, a lot of people are asking questions. That is always good, asking is the beginning of the journey. 

Mine began in in 2002. I had moved to Manti to escape the drudgery of the busy and competitive world of the city. I met some people and they knew some people and we decided that we were going to go to the mountains and live. The end of the world was near and we wanted to try out all that new survival gear, shoot our guns, cook on an open fire, that kind of stuff. Off we went to Boulder Mountain and the turnoff to Lower Bowns. We set up camp and cooked our first meal. After a couple of days we started cooking community meals. There were 20 or 30 of us, maybe more, there on the mountain. We sat around the fires at night telling stories. Scary stories of days gone past and the prophesies of the Last Days. That is where things got out of control. The big story tellers had the rest of us convinced that the end was near and here. We talked how we would survive the destruction and be able to say, We told you so. Stories ... they can be so well told that it is hard to tell wether or not they are factual or fiction. Story tellers have been around for as long as there have been campfires. Probably forever. We pay money to hear their tales and watch their movies. Good ones and bad ones, scary ones and others that make you laugh and cry. As the campfires begin to die down and people go about there lives, we are left with their stories. What do we do now? Pass them on to our children? Convert our neighbors? That is the real question! 

I learned my lessens there on Boulder Mountain. I don’t want to live in a tent. I don’t want to shoot anyone to protect my “stuff” I don’t like going without a hot shower. The old story tellers are full of ****

Those Aspen trees, they told the real story. Don’t live in the shade of the old ones. Create a new wave where you can grow in the full sun, unimpeded by the old growth.

That group in Manti? I left shortly after that. Too many rules and old trees telling stories to the new sprouts. I got an email from someone who still lives in Manti. She told me that the end was supposed to happen soon. The old tree told her. Funny thing about old trees, they get older and more disease ridden as the years pass by. Aspens, they only live 40 - 150 years. The old storyteller in Manti is nearing his end of days. He’s past his prime. There have been rumors that a messiah was supposed to come to their meeting and give them all a message. Let’s see was that this last time?  Maybe the time before when they maxed out their credit cards to buy ice cream and crystal and china for the feast of something or another ... Only an empty seat ... They are still waiting.

End of the world? Does anyone know? What lies ahead? Only time will unveil the true stories. I bought an extra can of pork and beans just to make sure I am prepared. At least if the end comes I will be full of gas.

Headache and common sense

Headache and common sense

Headaches are a part of life for me. They didn’t use to be. I could do almost anything, eat anything and feel great.

15 years ago I was living in Kansas, not far from the Missouri border. I could stand on top of the hills and see the Missouri river, it was so beautiful. It wound around the scenic valley’s. Catfish longer than your arm, it’s waters were wide and deep. There was one hill I visited along that river where I could look out into the distance and see 3 states.

I rented a small farmhouse outside of Wathena, Kansas. It had been built around 1850, just before the civil war. There was an old wheelbarrow there, rusted and worn. It was nearly buried under all the rubble in that old barn. I dug it out and looked at it closer, iron wheel, and heavy! Must have weighed 75 pounds.  The original owners had homesteaded the land and that old wheelbarrow had been pushed by a former slave all the way from the deep south. I loved that old farmhouse, thought I would be there forever. I had 400 acres to wander. There was a lot of history there. Indians, settlers, pioneers, and now farmers.

Most of the neighboring farms were growing corn, soy beans or maize. It was the thing to do there. Giant farm tractors pulling huge implements. Several times a year the farmers would fertilize with anhydrous ammonia. Someone thought terrorists might use it to build a bomb, so it is guarded closely behind locked gates now.

It was there on that Kansas farm where I learned about headaches. Lots of them. I wondered why I had developed them. 

When it rained in Kansas, it could really rain hard. Many times the rains were the result of tornado’s. I came close several times to being in the middle of those storms. We had a storm shelter, built by a prior tenant. They were smarter back then. Thankfully, I never had to use it. When the rains came in torrents and the rain blew sideways, most of the neighboring farms would drain into my 400 acres. I had some large fishing ponds there on my farm. They had fish in them, beavers had built a number of smaller ponds below. It was an ideal place to watch nature in my own backyard.

But those headaches! I started taking Excedrin, it helped for awhile. Then the rebound headaches began, caused by the Excedrin. One night after a particularly bad headache, I thought about my life style and wondered if I might be causing these headaches. Let’s see ... I would stop before working and get a refill of my favorite drink, Dr. Pepper. I love Dr. Pepper, I thought he was the best kind of doctor. I stopped at lunch and got a refill with my sandwich. On the way home I would stop again and get a refill of my favorite Doctor. I lay in bed thinking about my doctor of choice and I had a revelation. I consumed over a gallon of Dr. Pepper every day. I wonder if Dr. Pepper might be having an effect on my headaches? Duh! Of course, it was. I guess I just didn’t want to see it.

I went cold turkey. I quit the Excedrin, quit the Dr. Pepper, and I began to look at everything else around me. I began to read the labels. It took me months to educate myself. I wondered about all of the ingredients in those packages on the shelf. I had to buy a food dictionary to decipher the chemicals. Sheetrock? Yep, one of the fillers in those national brands. Bread is a simple food, right? Ever wondered at all the long names in that long list of ingredients?

The food giants of this country are poisoning us with all of their chemicals. It’s all about the bottom line. How to make a food product last long enough to make a profit. 

MSG, that is the one that cause’s most of my headaches. The industry calls it Natural Flavor. It causes obesity, it is highly addictive, it crosses the blood brain barrier, causes the synapsis to fire uncontrollably until they burn out. Ever wonder why you crave a certain food?

I went fishing on my pond, caught some fish and thought I would eat them. O my God! Those fish were deformed. I decided I wouldn’t eat those fish. I wondered how many other foods had been poisoned and polluted.

It has been many years since I met my friend, Mr. Headache.  Mr. Headache has been my teacher. Teaching me how to take control of my life and health.  The food industry that practice these trends? They should be renamed. The Twinkies. Those that fall for the advertising hype?  We should be called, The Dingdongs.   ORGANIC! He is my new best friend and Doctor.

Mr. Organic, has taken on an important role for me. Basic ingredients, cooking from scratch, home gardens, these are all my new doctors.

When I am invited to eat with family or friends, I always ask questions. Don’t be offended at my boldness, it’s just that I know what is contained in most of those packages on the shelf. Home cooking? That’s for me, real natural flavors from wholesome ingredients.

I have to thank Mr. Headache for being a wise teacher. He taught me to look within, and to listen to a wise old friend named, Common Sense.

Ask your Doctor? I think not! I will ask my good friend Common Sense, he is never wrong.

The wheels on the bus go round and round

The wheels on the bus go round and round

When Katie gets back from Cedar City I am going to ask her what songs they sang on the bus today. She left with others this morning to go to Cedar and do some shopping. Once a month the short bus goes to Cedar City. That’s what the senior citizens bus is called here. It costs 7 dollars to ride the short bus to Cedar. They stop at Walmart and Deseret Industries to let everyone shop. They stop at Sizzler for lunch and have a steak or a salad. It takes most of the day, to make the trip. The short bus only holds a few people, but that’s ok, not many make the trip. 

Our options for shopping are limited here, so we are forced to leave the valley and do our shopping out of town. I make a trip once a month or so myself to do some shopping and eating. It is a change of pace and a chance to stock up on some food.

I went to the local store owners last summer and made some suggestions that I thought would help. Money leaves this valley each month, from people like me who are not able to find the items we need. I added my monthly amount and multiplied it by the population. By my figures, it came to big dollars. I calculated that several million dollars each year leave this community to shop in the city’s stores. I passed this on to the owners but they like things the way they are. Some of the rest of us do not.

Competition. That is what we need. I have talked to money people and they agree. Plans are being put together to change the way things are in Escalante. 

Some may not like the change but this change will benefit our community.

The first time I heard the song, “the wheels on the bus go round and round,” was from a TV series called Dharma and Greg. There was Dharma singing that song on the bus. My sides still aches from that silly show. It is good to laugh at ourselves. It helps when we aren’t able to laugh.

I used to ride the bus to High School. Provo High was where I attended school, at least when I wasn’t cutting class to go off campus and check out all the college girls across the street. That’s where the old gym was for the college. This was my favorite class. I got straight A’s. 

I got kicked off the bus a few times when I teased the driver just a little bit too much. They were patient with all of us, but if they were pushed too far we ended up walking. It was only 2 or 3 miles to school, of course it was uphill both ways.

I hope Katie isn’t walking right now. They should be pulling into town any minute. It is a long walk from Cedar to Escalante and it is cold on the mountain when the sun goes down.

The bus will be riding low when it pulls into town, everyone with their shopping bags and packages. The bus is parked across the street when it isn’t being used. We have to stock up on groceries when we can. 

Tuesday’s and Friday’s are the days when the grocery store gets it supply of food. If you wait till Wednesday or Saturday you may not find what you need. 

Have you ever seen panic buying? I have on TV. It is not a pleasant sight. Rushing and pushing and empty shelves. 

While in Hawaii, we got a storm warning. A strong pacific storm was moving toward the Big Island and getting stronger each day. I decided to pick up some supplies, just in case things got bad. I had water and batteries and some bulk food in my cart. As I waited to check out, the man behind me made a rude comment about being overly concerned. Over the next few days I watched as the storm got closer and closer. I went back to that store to get a candy bar and noticed that all the water bottles were gone, the battery racks were empty and the grocery shelves were being emptied. The storm missed us that time. I did watch a water spout form off the coast. It was a near miss. 

The wheels on our short bus will soon be here, filled with food to last another month. It’s nice to have an extra can of beans in the cupboard, just in case the wheels on the bus have an unexpected stop and we are not able to laugh.

Rest of the Story

The rest of the story ...

Many of us live and base our lives on the days headlines. We go to our favorite news source, watch or listen, and then go about our day interacting with family, friends or coworkers. We base much of our knowledge on headlines without knowing the whole story. We only see a partial view of what is around our world. We take for granted that the information that we are getting is truthful and balanced. 

Our lives are influenced by clips of events ... carefully chosen to influence the way we think and act. All the major news sources are owned by a very few corporations. It is this elite group that decides what they want us to know.

I have mostly stopped watching the local news. Sometimes it is just for the weather, and then it is with caution, knowing that the weather has a mind of her own. My best forecaster is myself, getting up in the morning and looking out the window. I have personalized google news to show me the kind of news that interests me. It helps but is still so influenced by those corporations.

I have come to the conclusion that I need to go to the source and see for myself. Relying on my own wisdom and choosing what is most important to me. 

20 years ago, I decided to look into the native American teachings and learn about some of their ways. Their teachings are so wise. I learned that the Iroquois confederacy was the pattern used for making our own US constitution. I was intrigued. I learned that there was a group of leaders chosen to lead the people’s of this great nation, and when there were disputes among them, the chief's would gather and give council. One of these leaders was the peace chief. His job was to resolve problems. He would go to those people who were unable to solve their own problems and listen for himself and then give council that would help resolve the conflict.

I lived in the small community of Manti for a few years and met some wonderful people who were searching for ways to make the world a better place. We met together and shared experiences and had some great gatherings. These people became my friends and I shared many hours with them, listening and learning. There arose a conflict between two opposing beliefs. One side said that, “This is the only way, and any who don’t agree should leave.” The other side said, “Freedom to choose for ourselves was more important.” Of course, there is more to the story ... but that is another story....

I was asked to mediate between these two opposing sides and make my recommendation.  I was acting as Peace Chief. I went to each person and listened as they explained their feelings. Those on both sides were passionate in their convictions that they were right. 

I have reflected on those years spent in Manti. Learning years. A time to let go of the past, trusting in my own inner feelings. 

I was asked to appear before another council, this time to account for my own life choices. This council of 15 told me I was dangerous to their way of life and revoked my membership. 

Manti was a doorway to a new life, one that has brought me great joy. I learned to trust in my own self, my own sources. I am careful now to get my information from the original source. I have cut out the middle man, the one who seems to confuse the real story. It is better for me that way. Sometimes, I even have to climb a mountain top to see what I am seeking, to me it is worth the effort ... to see the rest of the story.

Chainsaws

I went to the post office today with my chainsaw. Ryan asked if I would cut off the dead branches on the old Willow tree in Front. It had long ago served its purpose and now it had become an eyesore. I reflected of other majestic willow trees I had seen with their long swaying branches gracefully arching to the ground, near a small stream or grassy meadow. Magnificent sentinels shading a pleasant summer picnic or young lovers. All of us who live here have noticed the old tree. The few branches that were left were bare sticks now. I filled the chainsaw with gas and oil and started it up. It is a man thing. Noise and power. I revved it up and let the carburetor clear the excess oil from starting. I was in my glory, me and my Stihl chain saw. I backed my truck closer so that I could stand on the tail gate and reach a little higher. As each of the branches fell, I had a new appreciation for the beauty of that old dead tree. I finished with the chainsaw and had a revelation. I started peeling off the dead bark. I was able to remove almost all the bark. When I finished, I stood back and looked again at that old eyesore. It was now beautiful to me. The rich grain of the wood. The variations in color. It reminded me of a majestic grandfather. Several people commented to me about the change. Two asked if I was going to cut it down. Another said the firewood wouldn’t be very good.

As I thought about the various comments from the postal patrons, I remembered some other dead trees that I had seen in Albuquerque.

Every year around the 4th of July, the firework stands start showing up. This year was a particularly dry year for Albuquerque, New Mexico. I was living close by the Bosque. That is name of the river corridor that passes through Bernalillo, Corrales, and Albuquerque. The cotton from the cottonwood trees was thick on the ground. Walking along the nature trail was one of our favorite activities when we lived there. I kept a yearly zoo pass for several years after I moved because it backed up to the bosque and the natural trees and landscaping made it so  beautiful. 

That year some young boys had decided to light the cotton fluff and watch it burn. Before they could stop the spread of the fire, it had gotten out of their control. The  fire burned many acres of precious native wood land and left the trees burned, scorched and dying. It was so sad to drive over Montano bridge each day and see the dead trees. It was heart breaking. It took many months before a plan was agreed upon to repair the river corridor and the nature trails. Volunteers showed up to plant new the cottonwood trees and thousands were planted to replace some of the destroyed trees. Many of those old trees were approaching a hundred years old or more. The crews came in and began to cut and haul away the dead trees. Some were left for the birds and animals to use as homes. 

There was a small cluster of trees right next to the road that were left. It was next to a parking area for the nature trail. I watched for weeks and wondered why these trees had been left standing. One day as I drove by I noticed some activity. There was a lone man with a chain saw. He was cutting a tree. I could only glance for a moment because the traffic was moving and I had to move. The next day, there he was again, working on the same tree. I watched over the next weeks and months and years as this man worked on those trees. I have since visited that site many times to see the beauty of those dead, scorched and burned trees. This lone man with a chain saw had a vision of those trees. He saw them as undiscovered works of art and helped to release them from their confinement.

That old willow tree in front of the post office is now a symbol to me of the hidden beauty that lies within each of us. The years of growth often leave scars and disease upon our bodies and our spirits. But when the right Craftsman comes along in our life, he is able to transform our dying, eyesore, neglected tree into a magnificent sculpture. Revealing the once hidden and neglected treasures. 

Thank you Ryan, for allowing me to be reminded of such a valuable lesson in life.  Not to judge the outer scars of life, but to see the inner beauty of each masterpiece of the Master Craftsman.

Flat tires

Thank God for Flat tires

Yesterday as I got into my truck to take a drive up into the mountains and get some wood, It made a sound that was unfamiliar to me, and then there was nothing. In this case, silence was not golden. I called my friend and asked him to come and take a look at my truck. He was unable to help me. Why me? I thought.  ...  Oh yeah, the blizzard experience...

I have been able to navigate my life by watching the road signs along the way and wondered if there was a message for me in my broken truck. I had done my part, I have done the regular maintenance since I have had my truck and we have been many places in the 10 years that I have partnered with my truck. 

I was reminded of trip that I took many years ago down highway 40, between Kansas and Arizona. It was a cold and blustery day and the snow was falling. The road plows were out and there were some semi trucks off the road. I stopped at a rest stop and took a break. I noticed there was a man with a sign at the restroom asking for money to help him get to California. I looked at him when I went in and again when I left. When I got back to the car, my wife said, Did you see that man at the restroom? I said I had. She said, we need to give him some money to help him out.  ... Now, here is the thing, my wife was more sympathetic to helping a stranger than I was, but I had learned years earlier that it was useless to argue with her when she felt strongly about something. She was usually right. She announced that we were supposed to give him 50 dollars. I rolled my eyes and said, OK. She took the money and gave it to him. I watched as he thanked her, took his sign and put it in his pocket and went to his truck. It was a new full size truck. I wondered at this situation but waited for my wife to return. When she got back into the car she was crying. I asked her why? She said, we are supposed to give him another 50 dollars. “I was afraid to ask you before, for 100 dollars, but now we are supposed to give him more.” I said, have you seen his new truck? She said she had, but that it didn’t matter, we were supposed to give him more. I sighed and gave her 50 dollars. She took it over to the truck and gave it to him. When she got back, she was smiling and I knew I was safe from any further withdrawals from my wallet. She told me that he said he “didn’t need the extra 50 dollars and would be fine,” but she told him, God must really love you, because he wants you to have this money and I am just following my instructions from him. He accepted and drove away. As I started my car and headed back out on to the freeway there was a sweet feeling in the car. I could feel it, and knew that we were so blessed in our lives. About 50 miles down the road, the blizzard was worse, and I was grateful that our little car with its front wheel drive was so stable and safe. Just then, at that moment, I heard a loud bang, and then the flap, flap, flap of a flat tire. What? I exclaimed. I pulled over and got out to check out the problem. Yep. Flat tire. Middle of a blizzard, out in middle of nowhere, and I had a flat tire. I unloaded our overloaded car trunk, placed everything on the side of the road and dug out the tire. No, it wasn’t flat. I replaced the tire and loaded the car again. As I headed out into the storm, the radio announced that the freeway was closed ahead and that it was impossible to drive beyond Amarillo, Texas. We drove the additional miles and pulled into a motel and prepared to spend the night. Thankful to be safe. As we were settling in, I asked, why? Why had this happened to us? As we sat there wondering, the answer came, it was a sweet and peaceful feeling and both of us could feel it. “You asked to be blessed on your journey before you left today and I have been with you the entire way. Through you, I was able to bless the life of that man at the rest stop. He really didn’t have any money. The truck was borrowed and he needed to get to his family. The freeway is now closed and with that additional money you gave him, he is able to not only buy gas, but has enough to get a motel and spend the night in comfort before traveling on to his family. If you hadn’t been delayed by the flat tire, you would have been stuck on the freeway in the snowstorm.”  As we both felt the impact of this upon us, we cried. We both gave thanks for the way in which we were able to help someone, blessing his life and delaying our own journey just long enough to find safety for the night.

Today I called the local mechanic, I explained the situation and asked him to come and get my truck and repair it. I try to look for the lessons in events that unfold in my life. I don’t always know why things happen to me, especially when I have done my part. This I do know, we have angels looking over us. We may not see the danger ahead, but they do. When we listen and heed those warnings, our lives are made better. 

Sometimes we given the opportunity to be angels in training, to help others along the road of life. How sweet life can when we listen to those inner promptings, not only blessing our own lives, but the lives of other fellow travelers.  God really does love us, and he will bless us and others through us if we listen and watch the signs...

Tesla and the dove

In John O'Neill's book: Prodigal Genius " It was the love story of Tesla's life. In the story of his strange romance, I saw instantly the reason for those unremitting daily journeys to feed the pigeons, and those midnight pilgrimages when he wished to be alone.....He told his story simply, briefly and without embellishments, but there was still a surging of emotion in his voice. "I have been feeding pigeons, thousands of them, for years; thousands of them, for who can tell-But there was one pigeon, a beautiful bird, pure white with light gray tips on its wings; that one was different. It was female. I would know that pigeon anywhere. No matter where I was that pigeon would find me; when I wanted her I had only to wish and call her and she would come flying to me. She understood me and I understood her. I loved that  pigeon.....Yes, he replied to an unasked question. Yes I loved that pigeon, I loved her as a man loves a woman, and she loved me. When she was ill I knew, and understood; she came to my room and I stayed beside her for days. I nursed her back to health. That pigeon was the joy of my life. If she needed me, nothing else mattered. As long as I had her, there was a purpose in my life. Then one night as I was lying in my bed in the dark, solving problems as usual, she flew in through the open window and stood on my desk. I knew she wanted me; she wanted to tell me something important so I got up and went to her. As I looked at her I knew she wanted to tell me - she was dying. And then, as I got her message, there came a light from her eyes - powerful beams of light. Yes, he continued, again answering an unasked question, it was a real light, a powerful, dazzling, blinding light, a light more intense than I had ever produced by the most powerful lamps in my laboratory. When that pigeon died, something went out of my life. Up to that time I knew with a certainty that I would complete my work, no matter how ambitious my program, but when that something went out of my life I knew my life's work was finished. Yes, I have fed pigeons for years; I continue to feed them, thousands of them, for after all, who can tell - "

Syndromes

Syndromes

Syndromes, seems they are everywhere. A new medical term to protect doctors from loosing control. If a new disease or syndrome is declared by the medical community. Only your licensed medical doctor can treat it.

I came down myself with a new syndrome. Self diagnosis, but still a new syndrome for me to learn about and try to find a cure. I call it the writers syndrome. I have it bad, and it is taking over my life. Thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts. Coming from everywhere. My past and present and my future. Oh, what to do? The only thing that I can think of, is to write. Write until the course of the syndrome has run its cycle. Problem is, I don’t know how I caught it. Must be from someone who I have been close to. I look back over the past few weeks and months and years and I have determined that it is you, yes you, my friends and family. It is you, who gave it to me. You know who you are.  Now, don’t you feel good about what you have done to me?

You must be patient with me as I am not a very good patient. I may belly ache and complain about my life, but you as my friends, well, you are just going to have to put up with me. Give me love, and send me your best wishes, and feed me lots of good chicken soup for the soul. That is what will make me better. I feel sorry for my poor computer key pad. I have been awfully hard on it. Pouring out my heart and soul, asking it to fix my mistakes and make my thoughts come across better. 

I guess I am breaking the law in treating my own syndrome. But for me, this is the best way, the only way. My cure is to give back what you have given to me. I give you back the lessons of life. I give you back the love and loyalty. I give you back the times that you held me in your arms and comforted me. I give you back the patience and the wisdom and the blessings that you have brought into my life.

I am probably incurable. Hopefully, it is not fatal. I may have to learn to live with my syndrome for the rest of my life. Changes will have to be made, but I think I will be a surviver.  I will cope somehow, and I have you all to thank. 

It is you, my friends, who will be the true doctors when others come down with mysterious ailments. Giving out advice and treatments that will help in their greatest need. Never fear, you will be endorsed by the heavens above with your treatments. There will be no law suits against you for malpractice. You have been given the endorsement of the Highest Authority. All that You and I need to know, will be given to us in the moment that it is needed most. 

This is what friends are for. Giving and receiving. Thank you my friends for giving me this gift. The gift of sharing and healing and helping others to do the same.

Blessings and Love to all ...

Sticks and stones

Sticks and Stones

Soldiering ... sadly, a fact of life for many. We all have family who are part of the latest war or know someone who is. History has recorded hundreds and thousands of wars over the life span of this earth. It has taken its toll on millions of innocent people. People like us who get caught between two or more unhappy people out on the playground. 

Remember Recess? One of the happiest memories of my early school experience. I waited patiently for recess each day. It was a time to run and play with our friends, throwing balls and taking turns on the swing. Occasionally there would be arguments over the rules or whose turn it was on the tricky bars, but we all managed to have a good time. I only remember a few fights that happened at recess. The teacher would stop it and make them shake hands. It was over as quickly as it started. I miss recess, playing without a care in the world, running as fast as the wind and flying high into the sky on my swing.

“Wars and rumors of Wars” Quote’s right out of the Bible. Ever wondered why? I have. Big boys bullying the smaller boys? Probably. A difference of whose rules are followed in the game. 

On the playground or in life we sometimes find ourselves on opposing sides. Usually because of our lack of information.

I have mixed feelings about schools. Schools teach basic’s but also teach the current values of the people. These values are provided by well meaning adults who feel they must pass on their attitudes to the younger generation. Text books are carefully chosen to teach these current attitudes. These books are constantly under revue and are changed according to the latest leaders and policies. Books are useful when they contain an unbiased account of events, but that is a problem with most books. They only contain a partial account, one that usually favors the ruling class. 

Have you ever witnessed a book burning? This is what happens when people want to change the rules of the game. They write new books with new rules. Rules that favor them. It happens every time one civilization conquers another. If that opposing knowledge is contained in the people, then those people are killed. If it is contained in a book, the book is burned.

Remember Nazi Germany and the book burnings?

I watched a movie called Fahrenheit 451, based on a book by the same name, written by Ray Bradbury. It tells the tale of humanity’s failure to get along on the playground.

In 1992 a book was published by Charles Larson. It was an account of an ancient manuscript written on papyrus. It was given freely to thousands of people in Provo, Utah. It did not support the current attitudes of the leaders and was gathered up and Shredded. That’s how we get rid of unwanted information now. I wondered why the book was banned and bought a copy and read it. It has some wonderful insights and information. Full color photos of the original papyrus. I found another account of the papyrus story, this was written by the church in Utah. It took me years to locate an original copy. I found it in my own attic. It was written by the leading authorities on the subject, endorsed by the church. In the January 1968 issue of The Improvement Era, the authorized version is introduced. Over the next months, a continuing story unfolds to the readers. This version is sadly lacking in a full accounting and was never finished. A shredding of the book by Charles Larson took place to favor the current attitudes.

I don’t watch the evening news very often, it is filled with the arguments of bullies on the playground. It focuses on the sensational events of the day and creates a biased account to favor one side or the other.

When I turned 18, the Vietnam war was going on. The current bullies were choosing up sides and wanted me to be on their team. Fortunately for me, I was 268th on their list and was never put in that game. Good thing too, Canada was looking like a place I might have to visit for a while. 

Over the years and I have been saddened at all the people who volunteer to fight in someone else's war. 

The bullies and old men start wars, let them fight their own wars.  Refuse to fight for the bullies and old men.

I salute those soldiers who take on the bullies of the World. These are the real hero’s of any playground. 

Words are the real weapons of any war. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will always heal them.

Shadows

Shadows in Logan City

There were 3 of us that night in Logan, Utah. We had driven from Manti to deliver a message. It was dark when we got there so we decided to find a quiet place where no one would see us. We got out of the car and put on our costumes. We were here to let “Them” know that we meant business. 

It is a funny thing to get caught up in a movement of emotions. You find yourself defending positions that you know little about. Siding with those who tell the better story. That’s how I remember the Manti years. It was mostly story telling. We gathered together several times a week to tell those stories. We took turns and often spent 4, 5, 6 hours or more at those meetings. We had a secret code to use when a special “Men’s” meeting was needed. “Ice Cream at the frost top in Ephriam.” We all knew what to do. We had convinced ourselves that we had the best stories, that all the other stories were wrong.

That is how I found myself in Logan that night. We were right and they were wrong. If someone tells the story often enough, with real emotions and feelings, it must be right. Right? That is where I was wrong. Relying on someone else’s feelings to convince me that they were right was wrong. I know that now, but back in those Manti days we were always right. Right?

I can laugh now. I have too. It was right out of the fairy tale story books. It is a sad story now. The old prophet banging his fist and shaking his finger at those who are still there in Manti. “We are Right! They are wrong!” It took me a few months to see behind the curtain and leave. A lot of others have seen it too, and left. 

We had convinced ourselves with our stories that if we surrounded the valley with “Holy Oil,” that only the “Right” people would be able to enter our protected area. The “Wrong” people would not be able to enter. 

There we were pouring olive oil on all the roads. A plane was rented and my olive oil was chosen to be poured out of the plane over the whole valley, thereby insuring our safe survival. 

The oil we poured has now been paved over and I’m sure the locals were not happy with the oil on their cars, falling from the sky. Kind of funny now.

So, there we were standing in our funny costumes discussing how we were to proceed. We took turns, telling “Them.” Standing there in the dark, with only the stars for light. We could see the lights from the houses in distance. We were out where the farmers planted their crops and hay. I noticed a tree next to the fence about a hundred yards or so from where we were. There was no moon so it wasn’t easy to distinguish everything. There! I Did see it! It sent shivers up my spine. I could feel the chicken skin on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck was tingling. We all felt it! We jumped into the car and drove away as fast as we could. Funny, now, but not back then ... 3 men in white sheets driving down a dark road as fast as they could go with their faces as white as the sheets they were wearing. Oh, the foolishness of Man, when they are learned, they think they are wise. We didn’t say much to each other about that night, it was still too fresh on our minds. We all saw it too. The shadow people. They were probably as frightened by us as we were of them. They were there on that starry night in Logan, those shadow people, watching 3 foolish men in white sheets.

Sharing my inner child

I have been inspired by many of you, my friends, to share my thoughts and feelings. It is a risky venture to open our hearts and share the tender parts of our selves. We face rejection and ridicule from the very ones who should be helping us the most. Much of the outside society teaches us to be hardened and suspicious of our neighbors and even our families. The world has been wrong in doing this and it has created a society of paranoid and fearful people who build up walls to protect them. They not only build walls, but install alarm systems to warn them of anyone who violates their private space. 

Childhood and adolescence is a time when we explore and discover who we are and what we are capable of doing. Our school experience exposes us to a whole new set of rules, many of which are designed to control our creativity. We are taught what is acceptable, and we are punished when that creativity is outside the standards of society. We learn quickly and find which bring rewards and those which bring punishment. 

The times of my life when I struggled most were when I denied my creative and feeling nature. I did not like my formal schools. They were too harsh and judgmental to my nature. I have always had the ability to excel in this artificial world and knew how to please my teachers, but my inner child would not comply to the artificial rules and standards set by insensitive and preprogramed instructors. It was in this environment that I began to shut down and deny my true nature. I rebelled. I rebelled in the only way I could. I withdrew from the outside world and many might say that I was moody, quiet, and difficult to understand.

Inside I was feelings confusion and I struggled with conformity. My spiritual side wanted to express my feeling side and develop my true talents, but the outside world did not teach me how to be that person and I was unable to develop my inner child.

It has taken me many years to come to this place of the heart. A place where I not longer fear my true nature. I have had much help to get here. You my friends and family who have stood by my side and encouraged me, my heavenly guides who have whispered to me all my life, you are the real inspiration that has helped me accept and develop my true nature. It is a fulfilling reward to finally realize I AM God’s greatest gift. We all are. We have been given the greatest gift of God to be able to come to this place of learning, this world of experiences. We are not only children of our Loving Father and Mother in heaven, but we are God’s in our very essence and nature. There is no thing and no one who can hinder our experience but our own self.

It has been a healing experience for me to share with you. I also wonder how many out in the world deny their very divinity. The outside world is a harsh teacher, but the inner child in each of us deserves to be let out and given the ability to develop and grow into that magnificent being that we truly are.

Take down the fences around our hearts, turn off the alarm systems and open the windows to life again. Discover who you really are ...

The God in me recognizes the God in you ... Namaste

Rock scissors paper

Rock, Scissors, Paper

This is an old game that most of us have played in our childhood. It is a good way to settle disputes or make decisions. I laughed at the comments that were made on a recent posting from my post master, as well as others who made their comments. 

This got me thinking about how I had come to some of the choices that shaped my own life. As a child with little experience in life, this game of  rock, scissors, paper, made sense to me. It solved problems and helped to pass the time. Those old fashioned games were the best. They didn’t need batteries. You couldn’t break them. The rules were made up as the game progressed. Sometimes new rules were made in the middle of the game to help those who were loosing.  Made up games were fun to do too. All you needed was an empty cardboard box or an old towel.

I have also used the scientific methods of drawing straws, flipping a coin, and throwing dice. They all seem to work equally well. I noticed an interesting new method too. It is called muscle testing. Seems to work well enough. This is how it works. Your muscles are linked to a network of information that flow through your body. A network much the same as your home computer, printer, scanner, etc. A local area network. You form the question in your mind and use your muscles to test if the answer is right or wrong. Strong response, true answer. Weak response, false answer. 

There is an interesting thing about these games we use. They are based on random chances of fate. They are influenced by the wind, angle of the throw, or subtle changes in our facial gestures. We often allow them to determine how we respond to life and the choices that we are unable to answer ourselves. Muscle testing is influenced by how clear our thoughts are when we ask the questions.

I look at the world and wonder if things could be better if we went back to these simple games of childhood. Politics, religion, and finances have become complex problems that grow ever larger each day.

There is one method that works for me in every case.  There is no technology involved, no middle man, no subtle tricks of observation. All that is required to do is to listen. Listening is becoming a lost art. All want to be heard, but few are willing to listen. Listening in silence. Listening in Silence. Did you get that? Listening in silence! No gadgets, cell phones, crystals, or prayer beads. These are all crutches, and crutches enable, not free us from the dependence of “outside things.”

It was a lonely feeling when I first started listening to the silence. I am used having the TV on, the music playing, and the computer looking for the latest trend. Try it. It will be a new experience for most. You will hear new sounds, sounds of the ice maker cycling, the soft blowing of the furnace fan. You may even hear the sounds of crickets or birds chirping.  While you are listening to the silence, you will begin to notice a new sound, really just a forgotten memory, but it will get louder. Listen carefully now, can you just hear it, from far away? It is your own inner guidance. You may call it, the still small voice, some may call it your conscience. It is there, it has always been there for you to use. Practice listening and you will begin to notice something else changing in your life. Your road will begin to smooth out. The bumps of life will be smaller. The demands of others on you will lesson. When you begin to listen and follow that inner voice you will also discover that your heart is linked to this wisdom. When you follow that wisdom, your heart will respond. It may tingle. It may cause goose bumps. It may burn brightly in your chest. You may have a complete spiritual enlightenment take place. It will be for you to discover. It is worth the silence. It is worth of letting go of those old childhood games.

This heart and inner voice game will always beat out any competition, and it will bring you closer to your true self and path. It really is golden ... the silence.

Birth of a new Earth

Reflections of this past year have been part of my healing and adjusting after Pearlene’s death one year ago. This quiet and isolated community has been a blessing in my life. The fall art festival here in Escalante, this past week, brought back memories of her last days with me. Cancer had taken over her body but not her spirit. Our family gathered from Arizona and New York to honor her in a living memorial. As the house filled with her children and siblings, Mother and friends, along with grandchildren, I could feel the veil thinning and feel the gathering of angels and loved ones from the other side, here in the home. 

In my minds eye, I could see this house smiling with joy as we crowded 30 plus in its walls. I was involved with every moment of her pain and transition and had to rely on family members to take care of themselves. I witnessed the miracles of life giving us the opportunity to serve her in her last moments on earth. She, who served us all so well all of her life. She told me that she would not die until all her children had arrived, it was difficult to see her straining breath and the pain she felt but finally they all arrived. 

Each child, mother, grandchild and sibling had an opportunity to say goodbye and to let her know of their love for her and her love for them. We watched as the vitality drained from her and we watched as she slipped into a coma in the last days. We sat with her and held her hand, talked to her and laughed with her until she no longer could respond. It was heartbreaking to see her spirit slip from us and as a family we finally realized that we needed to withdraw and allow her to die. 

She was being sustained by our faith and love and when her pain became too much, I began the morphine to ease that pain, knowing that she would slowly loose consciousness and then die. I ask all the family to join with me, to release her from this world and to ask that all prayers be directed in this manner. After days of constant care and attendance to her, I ask her daughters to take over and allow me to rest. Each hour they would quietly enter the room and give her the pain medication and observe her responsiveness. 

Finally on sunday evening on Sept. 26th 2010, she passed from this earthly plane and left us to ponder the why’s and how’s of living without her laughter and bright spirit that so filled the room whenever she was around. She lifted our spirits and made each day brighter for those that allowed her to shine. She cared so much for her family, her children and grandchildren, Her mother and siblings. All of us cried and mourned our loss at not having her here with us. And yet we also rejoiced at her being released from the pain and suffering. 

Pearlene and I choose to keep private many of the special and miraculous events of our lives. 

We came together 18 years ago after the Heavens literally introduced us. Angels told Pearlene that if she wanted to follow her heart and her spiritual path that she would have to allow the heavens to take care of her children from this time forward and trust that they would be safe in their hands. 

She was told to come to Manti, Utah, where I was living at the time. She was told that she would be shown that man that would walk this path with her. The moment that we met, I could feel the energy and spirit of this earthly Angel. My life was transformed by her and together we watched as the veil was lifted and we remembered our promise to one another that we would find each other and walk a journey for a time. We left our old lives and began a life of discovery and walked a path that was perfect for us. 

The combination of our love and desire to follow a spiritual path gave us tremendous opportunity to grow and the people that we met and the places that we traveled opened our hearts and our spirits and we connected with God in a way that few experience. Leaving our old ways and religion was difficult for family members and we felt their disappointment in us. I want them to know that for us, our journey was worth the price we paid. We witnessed the heavens open, and felt the presence of spiritual beings on many occasions. We traveled to the mountain tops and communed with God and Angels. 

I have had many sad moments this past year, but not sad in lost opportunities, only sad that I have had to adjust my life to being without my friend and lover for a time. I have been able to connect with her on a spiritual level many times and have felt her words come to me when I was reminded to send a birthday wish to a child or friend. I have had my heart opened wide and I have wept many tears, not tears of regret or tears of sorrow, but tears that have helped me to become more loving and sensitive to life and the joy of living. 

I have had 17 wonderful and glorious years of adventure and discovery, I have been able to walk a road that few have traveled, but I have also seen how good life can be when two hearts are joined as one. 

I have witnessed the miracle of seeing how heaven on earth can be lived now ... here ... while in this life. I received many letters, cards and phone calls from concerned and grieving friends who ask me, why? I don’t know why, but I do know that her love of life, her connection to nature and her love for others, reached out and lifted the spirits and souls of so many. She is a tree hugger, and nature responded to her love and I on many occasions I watched the trees bow and sway when no breeze was present. The animals came to her and showed their love to her and often she felt their message of warning or hope in her future. I witnessed the rocks and mountains mourn her presence. We walked many trails along our journey of life, and each was for me a magnificent opportunity to see unconditional love and joy from someone who truly loved life and all that it encompassed. 

I am still sad but ... I walked 17 years with an Angel, hand in hand, and together we witnessed the miracle of life here on this earth. I love you Pearlene, My Love ... Now ... And forever. I have on my wall a poem that she wrote to me several years ago, it comforts me and lifts my spirits when I am missing her smile, her touch. 

Beloved

How do I love thee

Let me count the ways:

I love thee in a way I have never loved before.

I treasure thee for all you do - the little thing’s

For the way you call me  ‘Sweetheart”

The way you make me laugh!

And when I think perhaps you have forgotten our love,

You shine forth the rays that fill me with rapture.

I love the way your poet’s hand puts to pen, lines of love.

That speak to my heart, my soul, and fills my cup.

That I may drink that wine of heaven’s bounty and know,

WE ARE EACH OTHER’S FOREVER!

I LOVE YOU