Monday, March 24, 2014


I was sick last week. Bronchitis. My chest felt tight. I had a wheezy productive cough. I read a lot of books and drank buckets of herbal tea. I coughed, sneezed, and wheezed. Cancelled fun plans.

I slept 10 hours every night and napped on the sunny futon every afternoon. I didn't speak to another human being for 3 1/2 days. No work, no chores. Watched the seedlings germinate and grow.

I took elderberry syrup (1 tsp 4x day), echinacea & goldenseal tincture, echinacea throat spray, local honey, and ibuprofen. My friend Betsy intuitively created for  me an aromatherapy oil which I rubbed on my chest and throat, and then covered with a hot wet washcloth.

Every morning I did yoga asanas. I did self-Reiki. I meditated. I read enlightening spiritual articles and books.

Then I felt weller. I was ready. Had a cup of coffee and ventured out into the world of people: communication and commerce. 

when summer comes

when summer comes I'm going to have flowers, vegies, and berries everywhere. The backyard will be a kaleidoscope of color, texture, perspective, and aroma. Right now the soil is buried beneath 3 feet of snow and ice. 

There will be green. Spring will come, mud and ice and robins. Summer will come.

When summer comes I'll be outside all day. 

Right now my house is tidy. Orchids are blooming. The dishes are clean and put away, laundry too. Bed-sheets are clean, bathroom too. The futon maintains an erect posture, no slouching: ready for visitors. All vacuumed, dusted, scoured, and polished. Small but tidy. Perfectly controlled temperature and humidity. 

When summer comes my house will be disordered and dusty. 

When summer comes my gardens will be glorious with color, texture, and light. There will be orderly rows. Morning glories will twine and bloom up the fence. The cedars will burst with green. Raspberries will be an uncontainable jungle of juicy red petit bouches. There will be kale, carrots, and green beans. 

Inside my house it will be hot and humid. There will be dust bunnies in the corners. Stuff will pile up: mail, notes to self, grocery lists, and intended gifts. Laundry baskets will overflow. Dirty dishes too. Houseplants will wilt. I'll finally notice, but mostly I'll be outside. I'll be weeding, watering, and wandering. I'll replant, rearrange, and rest. I'll be at the beach, holding my grandson, and exploring. Well, also teaching full-time. But just full-time, no extras. Well, just a few extras. 

When summer comes I'll be a grandmother and a gardener. 

Saturday, March 15, 2014

twinkie whoopie pie

You know how when you were a kid, Twinkies tasted so good? Then you grow up and eat them again and they're horrible. Tasteless chemical nothingness.

Well today I had a whoopie pie that was as good as my memory of childhood Twinkies. A student brought a box of whoopie pies from a bakery, which bakery I do not know. That's probably a good thing. Anyway, the cake was moist dense delicious vanilla maybe with a touch of banana. The filling was fluffy white cream, not too sweet, not too much of it. 

Monday, March 10, 2014

little pond

Last night I went down to the basement to get some curtains.

I saw the rug first. Then I heard the drips. I looked up and saw the soaked wood, looked down at the dark stain on the rug. Pulled the rug back and there was a pond. I pictured the rooms above. Refrigerator?

Pulled it away from the wall, nothing there. Sink? Looked under the sink. Oh, look at that. There's a fountain coming out of that pipe. There was a spigot handle, the kind that looks like a wheel. I turned it. Worse. Turned it the other way. Better? Ran back downstairs. Still coming down like a spring shower.

I set a fan in front of the pond. Checked the drips every fifteen minutes and after an hour they stopped.

Plumber came today, chatty fellow. Put his back out this weekend, sat too long doing his taxes. So he twisted and groaned on my kitchen floor for about 10 minutes, replaced the worn out pipe. Bonus: he switched the hot and cold pipes so now my hot water is controlled on the left like everywhere else. 

and then...

We were sharing Reiki.

I was spacing out, soft eyes, looking at the pattern of light and dark where the wall met the ceiling. There was tinkly music playing, no one was speaking. I heard a tiny noise and turned my head.

One of the practitioners pitched forward onto the woman on the table. The person beside me stepped back, and I rushed to the falling woman, put my arm around her, and lowered her to the floor. "Get the front desk," I told one person, "Get a glass of water," I said to another. I get bossy in a crisis.

We sat on the floor. "I'm OK," she said. "What happened? I was standing up and now I'm on the floor."

It was her first time sharing Reiki. She hasn't even been attuned yet. She told me that she can't stand to be near power lines; she feels the electricity pulsing uncomfortably through her body. She told me she felt the Reiki like tingling in her hands and down her legs. Said she'd never passed out before. Said she ate today, said she felt hot just before.

This happened once before, in a class. One student passed out while sharing Reiki. I guess some people need to get used to the energy? 

crystalline visions

Reiki Share tonight. There were 7 of us, all in one room, sharing Reiki.

I had a vision; I plummeted into the earth and landed in a crystalline cave. Blue-gray crystals covered every surface, tiny points of gleaming crystal. I walked on and there were giant crystals emerging from the cave floor.

I brought myself back to the room, looked around, and all the other people were crystals. Crystalline beings. 

Thursday, March 6, 2014


sometimes as nurses our most important role is to witness and support you, sometimes we step back to give you privacy; sometimes we watch your back, sometimes we wash your back