Thursday, April 6, 2017

Spain: Barcelona, Granada, Valle de Abdalajis, Cordoba, Barcelona

Valle de Abdalajis
We flew Newark to Barcelona in Delta coach. It was a seven hour flight and we were glad we’d paid extra for a little extra legroom. Aeroport bus to the center of the city, then taxi to the Air BnB where we met Gemma, the woman we were renting from She was still cleaning the apartment after previous renters, so we dropped our luggage off and walked to the nearby Cathedral Familia Sagrada, hung out in a park, had something to eat, went back to apartment and settled in.
La Familia Sagruda
Thursday notes: Sitting in a coffee shop near the university, soft guitar music, watching all the pretty people walking by, decent salad, good espresso, feeling good with Jean. We visited the Catedral de Barcelona (more traditional than the far-out La Familia). There were many shrines within the cathedral, some old tombs (from 1500s), and a realistic wax figure of a priest in a confessional. When I leaned in to look closer, he blinked! It was a living person, not wax – talk about startled!
We went to La Familia Sagrada, a strange edifice designed by Antonio Gaudi, the penultimate Barcelona architect. The cathedral has been under construction since 1882 and is scheduled for completion in 2026
Walked to Barrio Gotic, a maze of narrow streets, upscale shops, a whole tourist scene. Jean went into the Picasso Museum and I hung out on the streets. Got a text from Kristina, who has passed her state boards (NCLEX) – congratulations!
Las feministas 💖
Walking back to our apartment and up ahead we hear chanting, cheering, lots of people. Checking it out – las feministas! Into the flow now, joining in long enough to be able to say we were there. It was a happy and intense time – yet another life bookend for me – thinking of Leslie and when she bought the early Our Bodies/Our Selves at the Whole Earth Store in Austin; how in those early days feminism seemed radical (it was, actually); how she was an avowed feminist until the end of her life; how she put her beliefs into action, working with and lifting up women all her life. We were raised in the 1950s, raised ourselves in the 1960s and now, 50 years later, in a march with Jean, another serious feminist! Fortunate me! Days later, walking through an area of Barcelona called, “El Clot,” we picked up a flyer that said, “El Clot esta FEMINISTA o no sera.” Yes!
At dinner in a neighborhood-oriented tapas café we watched part of a soccer semifinals game. Barcelona won and the café erupted, as did the streets – honking, cheering, fireworks. Great fun.
On to Granada – we missed our flight, and got another flight. After several misadventures, we got to the Hotel Leo for our first night in Granada, and then moved to an apartment. The taxi to the apartment couldn’t take us all the way because of a religious parade. So we hiked quite a ways and when we were in the middle of the parade, a parade marshal let us through and we kept on hiking and hiking up narrow cobblestone streets until finally reaching our apartment at #90 San Juan de los Reyes.
La feminista; mi corazon
The apartment was incredible. First floor entry, second floor two bedrooms and bathroom, and third floor living room, kitchen, and veranda. From the bedroom and from the veranda, there were stunning views of Alhambra. And at night, when the fortress/palace/mosque was lighted, our bed and we were bathed in the light.
Our tickets to see Alhambra were on a cold and rainy day and so there we were again, walking in misty gardens all wet with rain. Happy days. Alhambra was spectacular, though somewhat crowded. We could see our apartment across the little river running beneath the ramparts.
By now, I’d lost track of regular writing.
While we were traveling, we observed the date of Leslie’s passing, Leslie’s birthday, the anniversary of Jean’s husband’s passing, and Jean’s wedding anniversary – March is quite a month, grief-wise! On Leslie’s birthday, Jean asked me what time it was. I said I didn’t know and so Jean checked her phone. As she opened the phone, the time clicked over from 7:46 to 7:47 – 747 being the number of greatest meaning to Leslie. Hi Leslie! Sigh.
Our bedroom in Granada
Leslie and Jean are different in some ways and similar in others. One profound similarity is that both of these women do something I call believing in people. And through the power of this belief (and other factors), somehow, some people are lifted up, sometimes literally saved. Once again, I ask, how can this be? How can I have ended up with these women!?
Granada was a high point of the trip: our incredible apartment and view, narrow cobblestone streets, little bus up to (what we called) hippie hill, street musicians, good food, good Spanish wine, romantic everything. I actually had not thought that Spain would be any more or less romantic than our usual life. But it was very romantic.
Our street in Granada
We rented a car in Granada and drove to Antequera and from there through the countryside to the Valle de Abdalajis, near one of the “white villages” – so-called because all the houses are painted white. The drive was beautiful, though to me (the driver), stressful because of the difficulties finding our way. But after some challenges, we found where we were spending the night – at Maggie and Elio’s house. We were able to walk into Elio’s olive tree grove – several acres of trees!
We drove up above the village for a lovely time along a deserted road. Dinner in Antequera was unusual – including an orange and salted cod salad, rabbit and garlic stew, a sausage potato and egg dish, and bread with olives and olive oil.
From the valley we drove to Cordoba, where we stayed at a hotel half a block from the entrance to la Mezquita de Cordoba. Once again, we were in narrow, cobblestone streets, sidewalk cafes, and among friendly people.
The Hope of a Condemned Man III.
Miro finished this on the day the man was executed
From Cordoba, we drove back to Granada, where we stayed one night at the Leo Hotel, then flew back to Barcelona. We stayed at another Air BnB in an urban neighborhood, nice, very quiet.
We walked from our apartment to El Clot, a transitional middle class and art-oriented neighborhood. Nice espresso at a nice community center, where we picked up the flyer that said, “El Clot esta FEMINISTA o no sera.” Yes! I read a few days ago that at the University of Texas approximately 1 in 7 women has been raped. The president “just grab ‘em by the pussy” of the united states is a misogynist sexual predator leading a republican party that despises women, except as sex objects – in case anyone thinks feminism isn’t an immediate issue.
Enduring Granada memory -
a little psychedelic band
I had an epiphany on a visit to the Joan Miro Museum. I was looking at large triptych titled, The Hope of a Condemned Man. I learned that “Miró painted this triptych in reference to the hope of grace as he prayed for the life of the young anarchist Salvador Puig Antich, finally executed by garotte” (from Wikipedia). I understood then that my life of seeking justice for the dispossessed and underserved could be connected to art. This mattered a lot to me, since Jean has dedicated her life to art.
Easy days and nights in Barcelona. Several wonderful dinners at a small upscale restaurant, Vivant. These are the days!

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Home in Berkeley
We flew Delta business class from Barcelona to NYC (great flight), then Virgin America NYC to SFO (poor flight). Ahhh, back to Paradise (Berkeley).



Friday, March 31, 2017

New York opening, reception, walking in NYC, dinner, Hoboken, Red Book, Austin and Waco

Jean's work on right; her friend, Janet's on left
We went to an opening featuring one of Jean’s pieces at the Museum of Arts and Design in New York. We got there a little late (straight from flight) and Jean went in to the museum to find out what we could do with our packs, etc. While I was outside the museum with all our stuff on the sidewalk, one of Jean’s friends took a fall in the doorway (thanks to an impatient person pushing past him). His hip was fractured in the fall/the shove.
Inside the museum it was a scene – lots of people, some of Jean’s colleagues, friends from Berkeley and San Francisco, artists, some people wearing art clothes, some people who’ve been around for awhile, like Fayette from the Cockettes (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Cockettes). A nice time. I enjoyed seeing Jean’s work and other pieces, like Wavy Gravy’s jumpsuit, a dress by Gretchen Fetchen, and other “hippie couture.” (Who would have thought that there would be hippie couture – but there was and is.)
We met Jean’s sister, Susan, and her husband John at Eately for a good Italian swordfish lunch. It was wonderful to meet Susan and John.
CK, JC, DK, CB at reception

Highlight: David and Charles came to NY for the opening and had a lovely champagne reception for Jean in their suite at the W Hotel. What an affirmation for Jean, for me, for our relationship (including the relationship between David and Jean; between all of us – Jean, David, Charles, me). It was a beautiful time!
Jean Cacicedo: art is not for judging – look – like – don’t like – no difference.
At NYU gallery
Jean and I walked for quite a ways in the city on a cold, cold day. Wonderful coffee shop at Highline Hotel, cold streets, a walkway where an El had been, so cold – “I’m so high!” “Life is too short to be anywhere but here.” On to Greenwich Village, walking along the 4th Street of Dylan’s Positively 4th Street. On to the Stonewall Inn where gay people took to the streets/rioted in the battle for liberation. On to Washington Square and NYU’s Grey Gallery featuring work from avant-garde artists and galleries from the 1950s and 60s. On to meet David and Charles back at the Stonewall Inn for a glass of wine and on to dinner at Chumly’s, an old speak-easy where Hemingway, Anais Nin, F. Scott and Zelda, Steinbeck, E.E. Cummings and a host of other writers hung out. We sat where Simone de Beauvoir sat.
We caught a cab back to the hotel. The driver was driving aggressively and hit another cab a glancing blow (NY, what an aggressive place). When the guy pulled over so he and the other driver could jaw at one another we all just got out and walked away. In a few minutes the guy drove up next to us, wanting money. We gave him the approximate fare and moved on.
Wanderweird's work
From my notes: we made love in the morning and again at night, then lying in bed singing Van Morrison songs together. I held her and Jean cried for joy; we cried for joy.
More notes: at the Highline Hotel coffee shop I was suffused with gratitude – “This is the only way to live.” When I’m really old, read this to me. Remind me that I lived as fully as a person can live. I’ve loved and been loved by two incredible women (a warrior princess and a shaman princess – really). I’ve laid in warm beds and traveled the world and looked upon my son and practiced mercy and walked in misty gardens and run across the fields and made love in the meadow and danced in the sun and under the stars and so much more. I’ve lived and loved and been loved.
CK, beast of burden at NYC Port Authority
More notes: at the Grey Gallery there was a window full of post-it notes. Jean took a random photo and later when she enlarged the photo, here is what was in the center: “… the greatest of these is love.”
Saturday morning we packed, I went up to say goodbye to David, we took a taxi to the Port Authority, then bus 273 to Hoboken, and got off almost directly in front of Jean’s niece Anne’s women’s clothing store. Anne’s son, Arthur, and Jean and I walked down the street to a Cuban restaurant where we had a lot of food and fun. After lunch, Jean caught a bus back to the store and Arthur and I went to a grocery store, then started the trek back to Anne’s. It was 19 – 19! And we were freezing. I was carrying two bags of groceries, no gloves, and my coat wouldn’t stay buttoned. Nevertheless, we had a great time, laughing along the sidewalk and Arthur talking about his Dad.
Back at Anne’s store we went for another walk, this time to Anne’s home a few blocks away. Arthur took Jean and me up to Anne’s room on the third floor of her three story brownstone. Cool. We’re in Hoboken now! Then Beatrice, Anne’s 6 year old daughter, and Anne came home, and then Keith, Anne’s BF. Nice dinner, good times.
Jean and Beatrice - Hoboken
Sunday we had what I call “a Berkeley breakfast” of fruit, yogurt, and toast and nut butter. Then a great trip to the grocery store for Jean, Beatrice, and I to buy chicken for Jean to grill and supplies for me to make pear tarts.
When you hear the music
Ringing in your soul
And the feeling in your heart
Just grows and grows
And once again, I’m ready to die, complete.
I baked the tarts with frangipani – oh man, so good. I felt happy and homey with the children and baking and Jean and Anne and Keith. Jean grilled chicken and we fixed salad for another nice family dinner.
And I realized this was March 5, the second anniversary of Leslie’s passing. I thought it was 3/3 at the latest. Two years. Waves of sadness. Ahhh, Leslie, you’re always with me in my heart. You’re my reference. Anne said, “Are you okay?” “No.” I went up to our room and sat and felt and thought back on those last difficult, beautiful months and the beautiful years that went before.
By Wanderweird
In the morning we had breakfast and finished packing. Good Lord, how did our stuff get up the narrow staircase to the third floor! Walked back to Anne’s store, and Jean and Anne went somewhere while I took a nap on the couch. Lunch at the Cuban restaurant, Uber to airport, and we’re off to Barcelona.
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From notes made a month or so ago
I looked for this book for a long time in the 1970s-1990s, but it still had not been published. A few evenings ago, we were in a small bookstore in Berkeley, and I asked the owner if she had any books by Jung. She said, “Yes. Would you like to see the Red Book?” “Yes(!!!)” And so she brought out this “reader’s edition” of the fabled Red Book (written between 1913-1930) – the basis of Carl Jung’s later works/his life’s work. Later she went into the back room and brought out a copy of the big original, complete with Jung’s paintings and drawings. Wow!
On the way from San Antonio to Austin (thanks Barbara, for the comfortable hospitality and fellowship!) to Dallas, we stopped in Waco to visit the Baylor campus for about an hour. Jean got a phone call from her sister and we stopped for her to talk. She sat on the grass to talk and I and I lay down beside her enjoying the sun and watching students and faculty walking by (I was on the Baylor faculty for 20 years). Later we realized that the whole time we were there we were the only people we saw sitting or lying on the lawn/commons. This, on a class day, on a warmish (50s-60s) spring day at a big university. My oh my.
Somewhere else, someone said, “I need to love: I need to be loved.”

Friday, February 10, 2017

Beautiful Christmas, Phana, days into days, a day on Mount Tamalpais, Esalen couples massage, How to Survive a Plague, Book About Love, Massage class notes

Jean on Mount Tamalpais
It was a beautiful Christmas with Jean, David, and Charles, despite a death in the family. This Christmas was a time to enjoy and to savor vs. endure as in the previous year (and previous six for Jean). Jean gave me an art coat and a book on love and I gave her a lithograph and a book. A time to be born. I flew to Dallas Christmas afternoon (see below) and Jean flew in a few days later and we celebrated the New Year together. Though we were a little under the weather it was a good time.  

Amidst the joy, sadness. I got the call two days before Christmas that Phana had passed away. We spent a lot of time together over the past one and a half years – long, long days of chemotherapy, hospitals and doctor’s offices in Houston and Dallas, endless hours in the car. Phana was young and in some ways, unfulfilled, yet she went through illness and death with bravery and equanimity – and so fulfilled that last thing: an honorable death.
David and Jake, CK, Phana - Ocean Beach, August 2015

David and I flew to Dallas on Christmas day for the funeral the next day. He spoke at the service. A sad day.

Back in Berkeley, back home, we were in a time of transition, which can be difficult. But that’s the nature of things – changes, changes. (Looking out of the bus window going past the Berkeley Art Museum I see a young man holding an older man sagging in his arms.)

Days rolling into days. These are the days… of the endless summer… days upon days in Paradise. Magical mornings – waking sometime between 6 and 7, coffee in bed, watching the astounding changes of colors and clouds in the sky through the double doors with the Bay below and Mt. Tamalpais in the distance, and out of bed around the crack of 9. A bowl of fruit and yogurt with toast and almond butter for breakfast.

Grateful Dead Night at Ashkanaz - where we go dancing
Most days I go into the City to see David: Number 7 bus to downtown Berkeley, BART to Embarcadero, MUNI to Castro, walking the stairs of Harvey Milk Plaza past the rainbow escalator to the corner of Market and Castro. Walking down the avenue to meet David for lunch (Starbelly, Harvey’s, the Vietnamese place, Kasa, the usual places). Life unfolding – ahhhh – so beautiful!

Today coming up out of the subway with Bombay Calling (It’s a Beautiful Day) on my headphones flashing back to being in a little room in the Bombay airport with Leslie very sick and there was nothing to do but give her water and watch the cockroaches crawling on the wall… when you’re in a dream, time passes so slowly, time passes so slowly, open up your heart…


Back to MUNI, BART, Berkeley bus, home to Jean's house hanging high above the San Francisco Bay.
Sunset over the Golden Gate (from deck)

(In the past months I’ve spent more time looking at the sky than ever before in my life.)

In the evening, sunset, a glass of wine before dinner, and after dinner, tea and a bowl. Last night we “made hand love” – just hand to hand – for an hour or more. These are the days!!!

Two-three times/week we have dinner or otherwise meet up with some of Jean’s group (tribe?) of friends.

Mt. Tam., Pacific Ocean
On a beautiful January day (1/31) we drove to the Pacific side of Mount Tamalpais. We walked along the Bolinas Ridge Trail, then on unnamed trails along the sensuous rounded hills rolling off the mountain to a place in the sun and trees overlooking the sea on one side and the hills on the other side. In the sun, in the wind, in the golden afternoon, on the soft hilltop talking of love, of people we love, of regrets, now dancing in the sun, embracing. Oh! As the sun began to set and the cool rolled in we walked – a long walk – back to the car. San Francisco rising like Atlantis in the far distance. Hail Atlantis! It was an epic drive home. Neither of us felt like eating, so we took a long deep bath together in the warm candle-lit bathroom.
Charles and Jean 

“The best days are the ones when I look around at all these people in my life, these people in my heart, and I think, This is it.” 

We got a massage table for Christmas and have each been getting a long massage at least once every week. We spent last weekend (2/4-5) in little hippie town in Marin County at a Esalen couples massage workshop. There were two other couples signed up, but both cancelled, so it was just Jean and me with the instructor, Nora. Somewhere along the line we both realized Nora is a master teacher. We had a beautiful and very valuable experience, learning and practicing some basics of Esalen massage.

Saturday night (after the first day of class), we went to a dinner party at Linda and Frank’s art house. To me, the dinner/gathering was an installation within an installation. Someone at the party asked why we took the course/what is this massage about (those were more or less the questions). Good question:

San Francisco in the far distance from Mt. Tam
  • Esalen massage is about the connection between the person giving and the person getting the massage… loving, expressing love, receiving love, uniting.
  • It’s about feeling good deep inside, a sense of well-being.
  • Relaxing.
  • Esalen massage is about opening to self, connecting, experiencing one’s own (and another’s) body and mind.


Notes from the class are at the end of this post.

I’ve read two books in the past month. How to Survive a Plague by David France is an account of the AIDS epidemic and the appalling lack of response on the part of the government, healthcare system, and society to the suffering and death of gay men – and the magnificent efforts of AIDS activists such as the ACT-UP group to force a response.

The book is a triumph of love and strength.

I lived in the Castro for about two years, first with Leslie and then alone. I loved it. I was surrounded by people hated and attacked for being – and their individual and community response? They take the word “gay” to describe themselves and their culture. They dance. They hold together. They create. They BE. We be. 
The Castro

Michael Callen (one of the early AIDS activists), on Christmas day, 1993:

“… just repeats like a mantra: life is good. Life is good.”

“I realize some people could look at my life and say, ‘Oh it was so sad. He died of AIDS and isn’t that tragic.’ But what I want to come through is that even after all the pain and all the torture, and even having AIDS, I can honestly say that being gay is the greatest gift I was ever given. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

When all his friends had spoken their farewells that afternoon, Callen signed his last will and testament and then turned up the dial on his morphine drip, sliding into a deep and lasting sleep.

The other book is A Book About Love by Jonah Lehrer, given to me by Jean. It started out as kind of a feel-good book, then turned into something deeper. Ultimately it was an extravagant affirmation of living life and loving to the fullest. Loving in the face of joy, suffering, work, getting tired of it all, in the face of death, in need, in strength and weakness, for better, for worse, in life.

Meeting of minds: Marcia and Jean in Marcia's garden
“The best days are the ones when I look around at all these people in my life, these people in my heart, and I think, This is it.”  





Esalen couples massage notes, taken at Nora Matten’s class, 2/4-5/2017 
(website: http://www.noramatten.com/)

Have supplies ready, warm room, music, lighting.

Begin with talking about intentions, connecting with the other person, dancing each part of the body, mindfulness meditation.

Start – back

Bolster under ankles.

From beginning, work to relax the person.

LEs and UEs, use deeper strokes except with varicosities, injuries, etc.

Up-strokes are more invigorating (increased force) and down-strokes are more calming (decreased force).

Avoid surprises, be intentional re everything. Commit to the stroke.

Work with one foot back (sometimes), heart open, 

Come into myself, including awareness of pain, discomfort…

3-fold towel under shoulders diagonally

Introducing myself… Slowly lower hands to lower back and behind the heart. Not doing, just being. Breathe. Breathe with the person.

There is a beginning (pause, rocking, long strokes), middle (detail work), end (long strokes, pause).

Jean: Push - rocking.

Now “long, flowing strokes… signature of Esalen massage” – entire body, including head. SLOW. Always come back to this – integrating.

Pause, still integrating.

Stay comfortable.

After long and slow, pull sheet partially down, then fold to center of body.

Oil hands and arms – will use both.

Start shoulders, back… three dimensional, circular… follow the 3-D landscape. Reach over and pull up on side. Commit to the stroke – complete, e.g., off toes and fingers. Go slow. Use forearms – for increased weight.

Sit with sheet over leg to work on shoulder.

Hands, inclu ROM

Then bring arm forward to rest on stool.
Photo from the showers at Esalen, beside massage rooms

Always come back to the long strokes.

Head now or after pulling sheet up.

LEs, inclu toes. ROM.

Draw sheet slowly up. Stroke on top of sheet.

Come to child’s pose. Lift sheet so can turn over.

Face up

Adjust bolster to under knees, towel under head.

Long and slow.

Work on shoulder and chest.

Pause

Go under shoulder, embracing.

Arms, hands (interlock fingers), rotate wrist.

Long and slow

Pause

Legs

Finish long and slow all the way off feet

Head last

Roll with hands

Face, brows, easy on temple, ears, occiput, scalp

Use towel to roll head side to side – towel over eyes.

Finish long and slow all the way off feet.




Friday, December 16, 2016

Love and magic, the sadness, Star of David, I care about/don't care about, courage, post-election

Love and magic
Reading each word, each phrase, each one slowly with reflection. What’s left out?

💕 Love is a feeling, where everything is right – open hearts and minds and communication and synchronicity and commitment and seeing all the beauty and hope and fragility of one another and caring for each other (caring more about the other than self) and the tenderness and discovery and sex and romance and sensuality and acceptance and clear, open communication and depending on one another and softness around one another and around the love and around this life …
💕 Magic – the love is ramped up, intensified (Sometimes talking of love for hours and hours makes sense – what else is there?), kissing caressing making love for hours and hours, intoxicated with one another, pretty much completely in synch, taking the utmost care of one another, it’s the greatest thing
💕 How? Surrender, pay attention to one another, look for all the magic and beauty in one another, believe that magic is real and possible, put selves into magical places and activities, magical music, accept times of less magic, wide-open communication …
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Talking with a little 5 year old mermaid named Beatrice, who asked, "Do you have kissy love in your heart?" "Oh yes!"
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Getting ready to decorate Jean’s and my Christmas tree I got out my small collection of San Francisco Christmas ornaments. Opening the box/the Christmas season triggered a flood of emotion and I cried as I did in the first months after Leslie passed. It’s a hard, consuming crying that goes on and on and leaves me exhausted and sore all through my body. Jean helped me through part of it and left me alone at a good time.
Sunset from the deck
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One of the decorations we put on the tree is a Star of David (for Jean’s husband, David, who was Jewish). Jean wondered aloud about putting a Jewish symbol on a Christian symbol. I quoted from John 14: In my Father’s house are many rooms… Later these lyrics came through the speakers: In my Father’s house are many rooms.
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I care about:
Being a good person.
Feeling good given/within whatever circumstances.
Loving you, Jean; being loved cared about.
Loving David.
In Vancouver
How you’re doing.
Being close/connected/making you happy.
Being beautiful – being beautiful for you.
Just being with you.
I don’t know how to say this, but I care about your vision, your expression, your art (not only what you produce). I’m digging your wisdom, too.
Experiencing nature/natural beauty.
Having beautiful, loving sex – pleasing you sexually – exploring one another’s sexuality.
Suffering in the world.
Justice.
John.
Friends and men in bible study group.
Who wins the election.
La Honda - before a magic night
People being nice to one another, especially parents being nice to children.
Growing, becoming, reaching toward my potential.
Being healthy.
Having or having had meaning – as in a life pattern.
Getting high, especially with you.
Being strong.
Having peak experiences.
Having enough money.
Being respected by people I respect.
Looking good.
Low stress, no conflict.
Being around kind people.
Living life effortlessly. 
Baking and things like that – I care but not all that much about these things.
I don’t care about:
What we eat, when we eat, where we eat.
Where, when, how we go, except that want to go with you.
Under the same sky, the same moon
Where we sit, when we go to sleep/awaken.
What I wear, except that I want to look good for you.
Manifesting much of anything other than decency and safety (Haha – actually, I want to manifest cool).
Who wins the football game.
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In November
Falling in love in these days/this age takes courage. One will pass, one will grieve (though surely not as long, nor as terribly as before). Eyes wide open.
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Political/cultural comment
We came so close, and then we lost it. The reasons are complex, I guess. Someone else can figure it all out.
My friend, Janet said, ”…everything we worked so hard for…” And for so long. Ah, what a beautiful vision we had.
I think we may be on the threshold of a time of tribulation. I have no idea what form(s) it might take.
What to do after Trump election? (Answers evolving)
Live our normal lives, working on love and acceptance and meaning and growth… manifest these things.
Indian Path 
Now, more than ever, be a living mudra (symbolic gesture) of the potentials in life. Lift up (with energy, with money) positive forces, in my case World One Radio (http://worldoneradio.org/), my son’s high school, hospice – especially the Presbyterian hospice in Dallas, Atrium Obscurum, other entities. Be kind to others, friends and strangers.
I need to remember that long-ago boddhisatva vow: to liberate all sentient beings. It ain’t easy lol. I’m not done with myself.

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Lay it all on the line at the right time. No need for fear… we’ve all faced at least this much before.
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And the bodies move and we sweat
And we have our being
Van Morrison, Daring Night