Kingdom of Crystal, Part 1

Thursday and Friday we spent in The Kingdom of Crystal, a region of Sweden famous for the glassworks - blown, etched, molded and recycled! Once over 300 glassblowers had factories here; now there are 16. This was easily the highlight of my trip.

First we stopped for coffee in Växjö, wandering the cobblestone streets and noting the architecture, very traditional, baskets of flowers just bursting with color everywhere, hanging from porches, filling containers, spilling the smell of roses into the streets. The Swedish people take their ice cream very seriously, and everywhere were little stalls selling Glace.

Next we visited Lessebo, where we watched them make hand-made paper from rags and linen, using a huge zinc press to dry the individual sheets. Established in 1693, today an exclusive product mainly used for finer documents, we got to see how they made watermarks and what happened to an unfortunate spider that fell into a vat of soaking paper mush.

 This is a tower of glass, filled with bowls, vases, sculptures, and these incredible glass heads, in a range of colors that kept shifting as you walked around the perimeter. It was such a massive piece of art, really impressive, and somehow you just wanted to reach in and see if you could shift one of the pieces, like a giant game of jenga.

We went on the visit Kosta Boda, Orrefors, Mäleräs, Pukeburg, which has an outstanding school of design, and ended in Kalmar. We stopped for lunch for a little bakery outside of Mats Jonasson glassworks for shrimp sandwhiches and the ubiquitous coffee seemingly served everwhere. 

Photos by Siv, 2010

More Adventures in Sweden

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Wednesday morning we woke up around 7am, had breakfast, and were picked up in a Volvo limo to go out to the factory. There we ran into our new friends, Jan and Merv, along with 22 other new car owners, all a part of their Overseas Deliver Program.

After signing papers and test driving my Mom's new Volvo C30 - a tiny car, in a beautiful blue-grey, with no trunk space to speak of - we got lunch and a tour of the factory. It was fascinating - huge robots were picking up the components, sparks from the welding a flying, with a preciceness and speed that almost spooky. We literally saw from start to finish, beginning with the rolls of steel and the steel presses, and it was clear from the tour guides voice just how much pride she had in her company.

In the afternoon we drove down to Kungsbacka, after getting lost driving back into Göteborg. This became our theme over the next few days: something between the 9 hour difference, jetlag, the sun not seeming to be in the right place in the sky, and the distinct lack of signage along the roads led us in many a circle. Indeed, out motto became "We came, We saw, We turned around."

 We went to the market and picked up some dinner supplies, before settling into our hotel room. Around 2 am a huge fight broke outside the hotel, with a dozen or so youths fully in a fist fight, breaking bottles and plant containers in the process. Three police cars finally showed up, arresting the lot. So much for a quiet night....

Map by Google; Photos by Siv 2010

Adventures in Sweden: Land of the Midnight Sun

I've just returned from spending 11 days touring the southern parts of Sweden, the Spruce-Moose biome. My Mom bought a Volvo through their Overseas Deliver Program, where they pay your airfare if you pick up the car and ship it yourself. Included in the deal was a free night at the Risson Blu hotel in Göteborg, lunch and a tour of the factory. Whatta bargain!

We left from Monterey on a Monday morning, our first plane delayed by fog. We got to hang out at the SAS lounge in San Francisco, where we met Merv and Jan, also new Volvo owners on their way to pick up their new car. Merv, recently retired, had been a pharmacist for 50 years. When I told him I was a Certified Hypnotherapist and working on my PhD in Holistic Healing, he said, "Oh, that's good, because you know, medications are what make people sick!"

We flew in to Chicago, then to Copenhagen, finally ending in Göteborg close to 24 hours later. I was exhausted. As my brother says, flying is like a 24 hour prison sentence. After checking in to our hotel, we went to the train station to exchange money. I was surprised that the Swedes are still using kronor, as I'd assumed they'd switched to Euros. 

The Swedes are very ecological minded, evidenced by needing to insert the hotel key in a slot to turn anything electronic on, ensuring that the lights would be turned out upon exiting. The toilets had a half flush and full flush; and every hotel had instructions on how to reuse your towel in order to save on laundry. There was a disappointing amount of litter in the streets, and not all the towns had public trash cans. we made a point of picking up 7 pieces of trash everyday. Another interesting I thought was that in one market the shopping carts were chained together, and you had to insert 5 kronor to detach one, which was returned once you put the cart back.

We found a random restaurant where I had a ceasar salad, a little overpowered by anchovies, and a nice dry white wine from Italy. We went back to our room prepared to get some rest, but so began my week of not sleeping. It was really hot (apparently the hottest summer in some ten years) and while we'd pulled the curtains, it was so light I kept waking up. Pretty much the sun would set around 11pm and sunrise was at 4:30am, but it didn't really get dark, there was always a greenish cast to the sky. The more North we traveled, the shorter the nights became.

It was an interesting start to our adventures through Sweden...

All photos by Siv; Flag sketch by Kayla: Midnight Sun Image from Google

Interview on KZSC

 Awright, let's see if we can get this to work, considering Mercury is retrograde. My good friend Chip kindly recorded my radio interview on Monday night with Kai and Richard on Closet Free Radio, KZSC 88.1 here in Santa Cruz.

InterzSHARE - kgr_kzsc_20100419_80jtstereo.mp3

Time on My Hands

I'm listening to live music while catching up on blogs, enjoying myself tremendously despite the deluge of rain. It's Friday night, kid's at the skating rink, housemate is on a phone date with her distant beau, and time is on my hands. Time, sweet time. I cringe when I hear the expression "just killing time” because what could be more precious? Even in the luxury of being bored lies the richness of time, invaluable and always meant to be spent wisely. Time is not money - Time is infinitely more valuable, a currency beyond measure.

I finished my five year contract as a financial analyst and medical billing specialist. I have the rest of the month to tie-up loose ends, file  a few claims and complete updating a manual. Like any good scout, I know I am leaving this place in a better state when I entered, but I also have a humble enough ego to know that it truly will continue without me.

This work has been my solace over the last half a decade - I broke up with my partner almost seven years ago, and there has been a sanctuary in filing, in the creation of systems, that soothed my troubled soul and grieving heart many a night and many a weekend. I have run away from the loneliness of an empty house to the soothing hum of the old computer, the little space heater, and the work helped fill the holes in my time by allowing me to feel useful and productive, if only for a little while. Work comforted me, but I now feel whole and healed, ready to move out of the being comforted zone.

I am equal parts nervous and excited to be giving up my part time job, my steady stream of income small as my paycheck may be. But the lure of the luxury of time impels me forward, and all the energy I put into promoting another business, I know I am now channeling into my own. I have loved being at home, in the garden, but as I recently heard somewhere, "my aloneness has helped me to realize that I need other people." I'm comfortable being by myself, but with the budding spring I find myself being more social again.

My housemate graduates in the summer, and my current intention is to create enough income to not solicit anyone new. I spent almost ten days by myself over the winter break, what with my kid visiting her grandparents in Idaho and my housemate visiting aforementioned beau in New York City. Just as I ended on a high note in my work, I’d like to end my current living situation well. I can’t imagine anyone better to live with, but I'm also ready for my lover to move in, to share sweet time and space. It’s a lot of change and a leap of faith for me, but it feels like the same quantum shift I experienced between high school and college, and again in my mid 20’s when I went from working retail to being an owner of my own retail store. A shift has occurred and I find myself loving my life and feeling a deep peace.

In this moment, time is on hands as my fingers tap the keyboard, and I feel so free to do whatever I want to, whatever passion pleases me. I am enjoying watching the couples dance as the waitresses weave in and out of the tables. I feel a deep appreciation for my inner silence which is in direct contrast to the blare of music overshadowed by people's conversations. I am contented and peaceful, full of hope and optimism, eager to see just what will happen next...


"Time is on my side, oh yes it is..."

Work is Love Made Visible

 Work is Love Made Visible

I recently gave a presentation for my Leads Group on how I became interested in becoming a Certified Hypnotherapist. Here is a small part of my story:

My father is Italian, my mother is Swedish, they met in Greece, and when my brother was a year old, they emigrated to America. While I was born in Washington DC and lived in Virginia as a young child, mostly I lived in Luxembourg, until I was 15, attending boarding school in England. I went to high school in Maryland and got my bachelors in Psychology from Wesleyan University in Connecticut. I traveled extensively in my youth, in both Europe and Africa.

When I was a sophomore in college, a friend of mine asked me to spend a week with her in Santa Cruz, California. The week turned into a summer, the summer into a year, and now, somehow, twenty-three years have passed. My life was transformed in many ways that first week, including piercing my nose and meeting the parent of my child, but one of the most significant occurrences was buying my first tarot deck at Gateways. Little did I know I was about to embark upon a lifetime of study.

After graduation, I began working at a metaphysical bookstore called Aries Arts which was located in Capitola Village. For three years I was immersed in a plethora of spiritual traditions. We sold a little bit of everything, from chakra tuning bowls to Native American smudge sticks, Buddhist prayer flags to yoga mats, along with an incredible assortment of books. I studied astrology with Sue Heinz and Risa d'Angeles, as well as with crystal healing. Next, I opened my own bookstore and vegan cafe,  Herland: The WanderGround, which I owned for twelve years.

During that time I started doing both astrology readings and tarot readings professionally. Folks would want to look at the cards or chart the stars when feeling at a crossroads of life, but I noticed that they often remained stuck. After 9/11, my store took a big hit when a chain bookstore moved in around the corner. Recently separated, I realized I was not making it as a single mom, and decided to close the bookstore. I enrolled at Twin Lakes College of the Healing Arts and received my certification in Hypnotherapy. This seemed like the perfect tool to help my clients become unstuck. A year later I became certified as a Reiki practitioner, which has enhanced my practice in wondrous ways. Combining the energy work with hypnosis has helped each of my clients become a success in achieving their own personal goals.

Last fall I began looking at various graduate programs after attending a recruitment fair at Stanford. One of my teachers from Twin Lakes College, Brenda Rodriguez, posted on her LinkedIn profile that she was working on her PhD in Holistic Theology at the American Institute of Holistic Theology. I felt that cosmic "click" and googled them. After receiving their catalog, my only dilemma was which program to choose!

My business is called Tools for Transformation and I believe that the MS/PhD program in Holistic Healing will give me more tools to even better serve my clients. The tarot is still my deepest passion, and it is one of my life's goals to create my own deck. My aim is to have this be a part of my dissertation, with the intent to publish both a deck and a book in the long run. I feel really positive about this course of study, and excited to make this commitment to my self. Already, I’m thoroughly enjoying a course in Aromatherapy, and believe this aromatic art will further enhance my client's sessions. Last New Moon I made Laphrodite's Love satchets and Bath Salts, with organic lavendar and rose petals, scented with essential oils and whispered to in the night. Mmmmm, yummy love magic - email me if you'd like to purchase some.

I am no longer be working as office manager at Dr. Z’s MindBody Shop, but instead am focused on my private practice here in Soquel Village. It has been a pleasure working for Dr. Z over the last five years, and I appreciate all of my patient relationships. I have a professional tarot reader and professional astrologer for almost 25 years, and I hope to now serve fully in my capacity as a holistic healer by combining being a Certified Hypnotherapist and Certified Reiki Practitioner, as well as continuing to teach classes and workshops.


Hypnosis is effective for reducing stress through deep relaxation, changing habits (including smoking and eating), and discovering insights for long-term, successful solutions. Most clients experience results in 3-5 sessions. Reiki is useful for releasing blockages (such as grief and anger), maintaining equilibrium through chakra balancing, and feeling recharged and revitalized. I offer both 30 and 60 minute sessions.


My winter class, Journey Through the Tarot is filled, but private tarot lessons are always available, and I am looking forward to offering Creative Abundance: 9 Weeks to Greater Prosperity again this Spring at Twin Lakes College. More information as it unfolds...

I love being a part of the Santa Cruz community and the worldwide healing community. Please join my social networks - I post daily affirmations on Twitter and FaceBook. Whole Essence Magazine publishes my monthly Astro Chat if you'd like to subscribe, and I'll be posting a new tarot deck review soon on my blog.

Thank you for taking this time to get to know me a bit better. Quite simply, I love my work, and I am here for you when you need me. If you or someone you know could benefit from my services, please call to make an appointment. There is new information on my website, plus I’m always happy to answer questions by phone or email. And as always, a deep felt thank you for your referrals!

That Which You Seek is Seeking You - Rumi

In My Back Yard

This happened in my back yard on Sunday night

Still pondering this one - If this had been a dream, what meaning would it have? What message would I get? Why my house? What could I learn from this? Reminds me of Dog Medicine...

Amazingly, my kid never woke up through this. I tell ya, teenagers & vampires, they sleep like the dead...

Hummingbird Magic

Hummingbird teaches us to laugh, to appreciate the magic of being alive, & the truth of beauty. There is something in our souls that wants to hover at beautiful moments in our lives, making them freeze in time. There is something in us that wants to fly backwards and savor once more the beautiful past. Some of us are just hummingbird people. -Larry Gates

This morning Poppy brought in a hummingbird. I managed to get it from the cat, and sat on the deck in the sun, holding it between my hands, sending it reiki, wondering what to do next. Deciding to ask an expert, I woke up my daughter, who said "Put it in a shoebox and call Grandma." 

We rustled up a pencil box, and lined it with a soft cloth. I found a small bottlecap, added some sugar water, and left it to rest. After 20 minutes, Amber checked on it, and of course,  the hummer escaped into the kitchen. I caught it again, and it just sat on my finger as I took it out into the garden. Amber came to take a picture, and at the flash of the camera, the hummingbird buzzed away... So magical. What a blessing.

I have been thinking about this all day. The iridescent green feathers, the practically fuscia pink throat, the feeling of that tiny heartbeat just thrumming against my palm... The long black beak, those deep brown eyes, blinking at me, as I whispered over and over "May you be released from suffering, may you be released from fear, may you be released from pain." 

Today I got to hold joy in my hands, and I released joy to the sky...

Riding the Rapids

This summer I went white water rafting for the first time. The opportunity arose as a chaperon to my daughter's eighth grade class, who was taking the extensive field trip on the American River. I have loved being a parent at Tierra Pacifica, and have always enjoyed my parent participation hours either as the math tutor or art teacher, but this was definitely the way to end the year in the proverbial splash.

23 teenagers and half a dozen adults set forth on a Wednesday morning for a 3.5 hour trek from Santa Cruz to Coloma. While I had diligently google-mapped the directions and had multiple handouts in the car, I was quite content to put my faith in just following the driver ahead of me as we ventured forth. Little did I know that the soccer mom before me was actually the speed demon from hell, and not only did I suffer from mild heart attacks as the speedometer crept well past 90, but ended up with a ticket for toll evasion as we all gleefully filed through the carpool lane, ignoring the notices that privileges had already ended at 10:00 am.

Somehow we all convened at Marshall Gold Discovery State Historic Park, where after a picnic lunch we hiked to the river to pan for gold. Who knew this could be so much fun? Sitting in the blazing heat, swirling sand and stones in my black plastic pan, the cool river running over my body as kids played and splashed, gossiped and flirted. The water was sparkling with promise, and I filled a small vial with teeny gold flakes, larger chunks of copper, and pretty stones that caught my eye.

After just enough time for a few folks to catch a sunburn, we meandered forth to our campgrounds. After setting up tents and letting the kids squabble over bunk mates, a troop of us set off for the pool. There, another large group of kids waded, apparently from Aptos, our neighboring town. Phone numbers were exchanged while popular girls feigned indifference, the geeky guys puffing out meager chests.

Dinner proceeded smoothly - I must take a moment to hail up Mr.T, the 7th & 8th grade teacher, who was doing an admirable job of holding the helm while running the crew. The kids wanted to run off into the dusk, but the promise of s'mores kept them close to the campfire, and indeed, practically only the adults slept in tents that night, more and more sleeping bags appearing around the fire circle.

Thursday morning I awoke ridiculously early, as is the nature of camping. I lay awake for what seemed like a long time, finally rousing myself and splatting a mosquito against the tent wall, my own blood smearing the canvas. Ah, the joys of nature. Re-wetting my contacts and pulling on clothes, I stumbled from the tent, blearily saying good morning to the other early folks who had added a log to last night's embers.

After finding a clean bathroom but no water for showers, I meandered around the campsite, fully in my own little world. Suddenly a red hot Honda Element pulled up next to me, the driver rolling down the window and uttering the sweetest words I could ever hear: "Do you want to go get coffee with me?"

Without a second thought I hopped into the passenger seat. "What time is it?" I asked my new best friend, come to bring me to salvation, or at least caffeine.

"5:20am. There's got to be something open somewhere..." replied Rebecca. For being the proverbial crack of dawn, I noticed that Rebecca had on some damn good lipstick, and somehow found myself swapping intimate details of life's loves and loss as we cruised Lotus (pop.423) for the seeming one and only bakery catering to the fishing folks and mocha moms in the area. We snarfed a jalapeno-cheese croissant that had been heated to melt-down in the microwave, then preceded back to camp with plenty of espresso in our veins.

Breakfast was in full swing, much to my surprise, but at least my kid had less mosquito bites than I expected. After clean up we met for safety instruction, got our gear (paddles, life jackets, helmets), then proceeded down to the river to our boats.

Don't get me wrong - This was no baby-sitting expedition. My kid went with the other teens, while I was relegated to the "grown-ups." Indeed, I was truly astonished at my daughter's independence, endurance, and stamina. Honestly, the real reason I went was because she does not even like getting her face wet in the pool, let alone cruising full steam down class 3 rapids. The main reason I decided to go in the first place was the feeling of, "I've got to see this for myself."

She literally blew me out of the water. Balancing on the side of the boat, jumping during the swimmers rapids, spraying me hard in a water fight - she is 180 degrees different from myself at that age. I felt fully confident that she could take care of herself, and found that I could stay fully present with no worries, whatsoever.

For the next 6 hours we explored 14 miles of twists and turns in the river. The main lessons were to put our back into it (rather than arm muscle) and to synchronize with our partners. Indeed, "Synch or swim" became our motto, as we navigated the rapids, paddling with our might equally against surging foam and empty air, striving to maintain our continuous rhythm. We'd high five our paddles after successfully completing a run, slapping our oars beaver style on the water.

A client of mine had recently affirmed life as "paddling down stream". I thought about this as I strained and pulled when we back paddled and spun circles, surging during the turbulence as well as the times we were gently dipping into more placid pools. We navigated the fierce waters with flavorful names like Trouble Maker, Haystacks, Satan's Cesspool, Son of Satan, Bouncing Rock and Hospital Bar.

Finally we reached the lake, where our six rafts were tugged by jet ski to the docking area. A school bus picked us up to take us back to camp. Between bursts of We are the Champions and every single verse of 99 Bottles of Beer shouted at the top of their lungs by some rather stirred up adolescents, I pondered my latest adventure. I loved watching these teenagers with their new found independence, navigating emotional turbulence and tempestuousness of the life-stream itself. I took myself out of my comfort zone, had an adventure and came back home. Now, the sight of the round rocks on the river bottom, a new understanding of "currents" and a particular pale green flecked with gold still color my dreams each night.

Dog Medicine

(This was written a few years ago, repost by request...)

I just had the trippiest experience. Last night as I was coming home, I noticed a dog in the middle of the street. Big white dog, bit bigger than a lab, with a brown squishy face, and deep brown eyes. A group of teenagers were telling him to go home, but it just kept limping along. As I pulled into the driveway, he came over and was real friendly, wearing a busted collar, fixed with duct tape, and no tag. I told him to go home, but it just looked confused & whined at me. I thought hmm, dog medicine, what message are you bringing me today?

I went inside & called Animal Control, but just got the machine. I went for a walk, and coming back, the dog was in the middle of California street, about to get hit by a car! I hurried over, and took him back to my house. My neighbor said she had seen him wandering around the day before too.

I put the dog in the backyard, much to the cat's dismay. I gave him some water and cat food, which he ignored, much to my surprise. He put his nose in my lap and left the biggest puddle of drool imaginable. Yuck.

He had a sore on his leg, and kept shaking and then would collapse. I called Animal Control again, and this time got through, and they said they'd send someone right over. A few minutes later the dispatcher called back, and asked me if I would drive the dog over to the 24 hour vet/clinic in Soquel, since they were about to go off shift. Having nothing better to do, I said sure.

The dog hopped into the car pretty easy, but it was one BIG dog, and right away was spattering the car with drool. I mean, it was GROSS - I pulled a towel from the back to drape over the seat & hand brake, but literally, it was just streaming out of his mouth, in huge puddles along the dash, and my right arm.

Since it was around six, I didn't want to take the freeway, so I took Soquel all the way in to avoid traffic. Around Morrissey, I was just freaking on how much the dog was drooling, when I realized, it wasn't drooling - it was foaming. It was foaming at the mouth. Suddenly I remembered being told as a child never to approach friendly wild life, like a raccoon or squirrel, because it meant one thing. Rabies.

Yes, I was in a car, with a dog, with RABIES!

I had been talking to the dog all along, petting his head and reassuring it, and now I started singing. I knew if I went into fear, the dog would know and maybe bite me. Part of my mind was calculating how to pull over, stop the car, and get the hell out. Another part was so glad I just got my new health insurance card, and Dominican Hospital was on the way. I'd always heard that rabies shots hurt real bad because they do it your stomach.

So instead of going into fear, I went into love, and just kept singing to the dog, a little nonsense tune how if this dog was my dog, his name would be gazpacho. "Spacho dog, Spacho dog" I sang. He just kept drooling beyond belief, and looking at me with trusting eyes. He would sit up, and then collapse against me. I pet his head, thinking about how rabies eats the brain. Poor thing.

I got to the vet clinic, and Spacho tried to run across the street again. I took him in, and they said they would have to put him down in order to test for rabies. I went home and cried. Poor little Spacho dog. It was just a tangent in my day, but for some reason I was a part of his path, at the end of his journey.

Dog medicine: loyalty, friendship, trust. I'm glad I knew Spacho, because as a cat woman, I really wanted nothing to do with him at first, but now I am glad to have had a dog friend today, and to have been a friend in return.

Blessed Be.

(written in 2005)

Green Recogition

I'm pleased to announce that we received an award for being a Green Certified business. Here's the article from The Santa Cruz Sentinel:

County recognized 45 green businesses

By JONDI GUMZ

Posted: 04/22/2009 01:30:17 AM PDT

SANTA CRUZ -- County officials honored 45 businesses and organizations, the largest group ever, Tuesday for doing their part to reduce, reuse and recycle.

The 45 entities received certificates at the annual Green Business ceremony during the county supervisors' meeting Tuesday.

Jo Fleming, Green Business program coordinator, said the 199 certified green businesses have saved $707,500 in utility bills, supplies and operating costs. They also have:

Reduced hazardous materials and wastes by an estimated 342 drums, enough to fill 21 trucks.

Diverted more than 242,000 cubic feet of waste from landfills, equivalent to trash generated by 26,000 households.

Installed new lighting fixtures, sensors and security lights, which reduced emissions of carbon dioxide, a greenhouse gas, by more than 5,000 pounds and cut electrical usage by 5.4 million kilowatt-hours, enough to power 1,000 average homes.

Saved 24.5 million gallons of water, enough for 900 residential swimming pools.

Used new paints to prevent release of 520,000 pounds of volatile organic compounds and other air pollutants, equivalent to what would be generated by 250,000 gallons of conventional paint.

Businesses recognized were:

Aptos: De Camara Management, Seascape Resort, Warmboard

Ben Lomond: Glen Arbor School

Boulder Creek: YMCA Camp Campbell

Capitola: Comerica Bank, Original Sin Desserts, Pristine Clinical Skin Care, Santa Cruz County Bank, Santa Cruz County Bank Business Lending, State Farm Insurance, Way of Life

Felton: American Dream Realty, Redwood Pizzeria

Santa Cruz: A+ Environmental Solutions, Albert's Organics, Aqua Safaris, American Cafe, California Grey Bears, Dreamscape Creative Landscape Solutions, Environment Control Monterey Bay, Opal Cliffs Auto Center, Peoples Coffee, Santa Cruz County Bank, St. Stephens Lutheran Church, Toadal Fitness

Scotts Valley: Central Coast Alliance for Health, Cruz'n Cellular, Sandabs

Soquel: Center for Transformational Neurophysiology, Dr. Tonya Fleck, Dr. Z's Mind Body Shop, Land of Medicine Buddha, SC41 Furniture, Somerset Door and Window, Community Foundation of Santa Cruz County, The Maynard Group, Vital Health Center

Watsonville: Collins Enterprises, Global Concepts, Head Start Santa Cruz County, Merry Maids of Santa Cruz County, Print Worx, Santa Cruz County Bank, Sterling Pacific Financial.

The Color Chartreuse

I was having one of those moments when I was feeling in touch with my inner Martha Stewart, as I waltzed around Ross: Cross Dress for Less at our lovely River Street Plaza. There I found the most fabulous chartreuse  velvet curtains, the perfect color for my front room, at an astonishing price. I languorously chose new curtain rods, my inner math geek happily translating feet to inches and how to divide four curtains between three windows.

I love that word, chartreuse. It conjures up a particular time in high school and battling with the glazes as I tried to raku a series of ceramic beads that I was making a substantial profit on, selling to Mom’s then jewelry group, The Brass Ring. Renown at the local craft fairs for their amazing creations of fiber and handmade, exotic embellishments, the ladies were gobbling up my chartreuse beads - let’s just say I was an entrepreneur at an early age, and a part of that money is my retirement account today.

Coming home, I spent a fun afternoon removing the old, tired blinds, installing the curtain rod hardware, spackling and painting over the resulting holes, and finally, finally, hanging my magnificent chartreuse curtains. All I needed was violin music and maybe a rose gripped between my teeth to complete the moment. In my mind’s eye I could see the cover of Better Homes & Gardens- This months feature: Enchanting Homes of Santa Cruz...

After picking my kid up from school the next day, I swept into the house and in grand voice announced, “ So, my darling, what do you think of my chartreuse curtains?”

With barely a glance, she calmly stated, “Mom, they’re the color of puke.”

“No, sweetie, they’re chartreuse,” I corrected her, my ire beginning to boil. “Look how they match everything in the room.” She merely raised an eyebrow. Forget her, I thought, I love my chartreuse curtains, they’re perfect.

The next day, walking down the stairs, all I could think was, “Puke. The color puke.”

Needless to say, they were returned that morning, and this time I let my kid choose the curtains. Why not? She lives here too. And guess what she chose:

Pink - a beautiful, dusky rose, unmistakable, pink.

Sorry, Martha.

Seabright Musings

Can’t seem to sleep, can’t seem to eat
Feels like my stomach is tied up in knots
Can’t seem to let go, can’t seem to move on
Wonder what the hell is causing this gut rot?

Classroom head lice, house might have termites,
Only rich in cat hair, pollen and dust bunnies
Can’t seem to get sleep, can’t seem to breathe deep
And now don’t you know, the IRS wants all my money...

It is a sunny spring day in lovely Santa Cruz, and I am sipping a Pelican Ale at the Seabright Brewery, listening to a rather raucous band do poor covers from somewhere half a block away. Apparently it is a benefit for a taxi cab driver who died a few years ago, leaving wife & children, which softens my heart if not my ear drums.
 
I have not been on any of my blogs in what seems like days & days, and I miss my various & sundry audiences. I went to several doctors over the last week after experiencing chest pains, and have been diagnosed with gerd, which is further constricting my breathing, causing asthma, but more importantly, made me feel like I was having a heart attack.

Being sick is stressful, but going to the doctors is too, bringing up childhood memories of constantly being hospitalized, constantly having my mom yell at me to take my medications. I resist western medicine as a result, and instead choose to treat my symptoms with acupuncture, herbs and nutrition.

My next big project will be to rip out all the carpeting in the house & either install wood, cork, bamboo or tile. While the doctor recommends getting rid of the cats, I’d rather cut off my hands. I can compromise by making them live outdoors and getting an air filter, boosting my immune system and receiving NAET.

So I order my Jiggy’s Pub Club on whole wheat and a side salad with no tomatoes. I’m looking at eliminating coffee (gasp!) no more french fries or chips & salsa for me either. Life looks a little bland, but better without the heart burn. Kinda like my love life...

(Time passes) I have now switched to their Lighthouse Amber, half my lunch boxed away for dinner. While the beer has improved, the music has not, and I may need to move locals sooner rather than later. I have been musing on Pan and my path of paganism, spring thaws in Idaho and my daughter’s “first date” yesterday. More to follow...

Thanks to those of you checking in. You know who you are. I do appreciate it.

Forgiveness

To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you.- Lewis B. Smedes

I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness lately. One dictionary definition I read said that forgiveness is to release someone from the consequences of their actions. I've also heard that true forgiveness is not saying that whatever happened was okay, it’s saying that whatever it was won’t affect you anymore. Certainly the theme that comes up again and again is that forgiveness is ultimately something you do for yourself, not for the other person.

I experienced an act of forgiveness recently. A friend of mine named Mars threw a Blacklight Beatles Bash party for her fabulous fiftieth birthday- a gala affair with a couple of hundred people. Think Burning Man meets the Yellow Submarine in Santa Cruz. Talk about your Octopus’ Garden. Mars & I had not really been in contact since my boifriend and I broke up five years ago, despite having been exceptionally close, both of us having ftm tranny lovers.

As I was getting ready for the eve, I thought about the ways I have felt exiled from this particular tribe, but also about my own self-exile, my own self-punishment for the break up. I have diligently avoided any social event where I thought there might be an iota of a chance of my exs presence, after learning the hard way that I’d throw up every time I saw him. And in a small town with a small community... well, let’s just say this Rapunzel has stayed locked up in her self created tower for some time now.

Pride and competition
Cannot fill these empty arms
And the work I put between us
You know it doesn't keep me warm..

I've been trying to get down
To the heart of the matter
But everything changes
And my friends seem to scatter
But I think its about forgiveness
Forgiveness
Even if, even if you don't love me anymore
-Don Henley, The Heart of the Matter

Since he is a part of my child’s life (he has been her “Uncle” since she was born, from before we dated) I have consciously worked to transform my more bitter feelings to one’s more in alignment with how I feel about my other co-parent, i.e allies. As someone, somewhere, once said regarding the gay community, “An army of ex-lovers cannot fail.” I’d say 90% of hypnosis school was around this wound (the rest being around my mom - you know, if it’s not one thing, it’s your mother...)

Well, after enough visualizations of seeing him would be “like seeing an old friend” all I can say is: hypnosis works. I felt great - no, I felt like a BABE as I entered the party in a dusky gold velvet dress that just clings to my figure. I danced my ass off, drank too much wine, and shmoozed with folks I had not seen in years. In other words, I had a blast.

At some point I went out to give my daughter her cell phone. My ex was sitting at a table and we said hi to each other. His body language was tense, and I wondered what he was thinking. Later I was out gossiping with the local wag who said, “So, I hear you’re dating bio boys now” which goes to prove the fastest way to communicate is not telephone or telegram, but tell-a-queer. I simply responded that I had not dated in almost a year, and left it at that.

I went home earlier rather than later, feeling that "at the heart of the matter" I was finally in that place of being okay, of releasing myself from the past. In the moment I could see how our paths had parted, and I could finally stop beating myself up for not trying harder, for somehow not being "enough". I finally forgave myself.

I cherish several of the other folks that I reconnected with, and I love my friend Mars & look forward to going out dancing with her soon. I was somehow reminded of high school where I realized I was part of no clique but had many individual friends. In this world of a thousand tribes, I recognize that I am still a nomad gypsy marching to my own heartbeat.

Forgiveness does not change the past,
but it does enlarge the future.-Paul Boese

We love a Good Meme

It’s St. Paddy's Day & I'm sitting at the Santa Cruz Mountain Brewery, my new favorite local hangout, which serves not only excellent beer, but also food from Kelly’s Bakery. My life is complete. I sip my Dread Brown between flirting with the regulars and getting up to date on FaceBook. After diligently ploughing & reseeding myFarm (which I am completely obsessed with), I respond to other friend requests and low & behold, yet another meme. But it’s a goodie & worth spreading the love:

My First Album

1 - Go to "wikipedia." Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.

2 - Go to "Random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote of the page is the title of your first album.

3 - Go to flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

4 - Use photoshop or similar to put it all together.

5 - Start a new Note, add your cover to the Note as a photo, copy in these rules, and tag a bunch of you friends.

Have fun!

More on my Kooky House

People with no TV - what the heck should we do tonight, honey? There was a long white corridor at the top of the stairs that proved to be the perfect blank canvas for this winter's kooky house project.

We decided on a four seasons theme. First we sponged a background with a fade from yellow to blue. Then we painted trunks and branches. Frosty fairies and blue birds, wise owls and long icicles, summer sprites and hummingbirds, dancing elves and sprouting mushrooms soon appeared amidst the fall foliage, spring buds and summer blossoms.

 Mike the Dragon seems to be enjoying the new view tremendously. Of course, the only question now is: what next?

Hawk Medicine

It was late afternoon as we walked along the railroad tracks, the setting sun a dazzling gold ball before us. My daughter had volunteered to dog sit while a friend was out of town, and we were now returning to our cat filled abode.

A dark shadow passed in front of the sun, then swooped before us again before landing just a few feet away on the fence. Deep amber eyes over a hooked beak, the creamy chest feathers heaving with each breath, tawny tail and wings primly folded at it’s sides, the bird of prey calmy regarded us for long moments.

“Hawk Medicine!” My mind whirled, digging up lore and superstition, myth and magic, my own personal symbolism weaving with all the other happenings of the day, all that this omen could potentially portend. Before I could whisper a word, it launched itself off the fence in one graceful move, circled over a nearby redwood, then moved west, disappearing into the glowing orange sunset once more.

“Wow...” I breathed, eyes shining, facing my daughter, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this might be one of those random moments that she would remember forever, even years from now when I lay a-mouldering in the grave. Honor all life’s messages and all life’s messengers kept ringing in my mind. “Wow... What a sign!”

“Yep, sign of the fowl” she quipped, not missing a beat, “Sure sign we should have chicken for dinner tonight, Mom.”

Outta the mouths of babes...

Every Breath is a Gift

For almost two months now, I have been struggling for my health. Specifically, I've been struggling to get a breath. Ever since my birthday, when I was dealt a double emotional wallop, I have been doing everything in my power to regain my balance.

Every muscle hurts, as every cell feels starved for oxygen, and a deep depression has set in, seeing as Zumba has been out of the question. I felt blown off by my doctor, as I desperately tried to refill my Albuterol prescription, my quick relief in a crisis; yet stuck in a financial bind concerning the standard protocol to control asthma, as I can't afford the prescription, which costs more than 10% of my monthly income. And I'm talking about just the copay.

I was diagnosed with asthma before the age of two. For the first 14 years of my life, I was constantly in & out of the doctor's office, being tested for this, tested for that, coming up positive to all 80 allergens. I used an inhaler four times a day, had weekly shots, countless other pills, potions, supplements & syrups, and the most hated of all, "Strong Man Medicine" which I think consisted of some dreadful combination of brewers yeast and black strap molasses.

After moving to Santa Cruz some twenty years ago, I have switched to using herbs & acupuncture, yoga & meditation to control my asthma. Everything seemed fine until the moth spraying last year, when all hell broke loose in my lung cavity. I took the cortical-steroids for a winter, but harbored a deep cough all last year, as well as being concerned about developing thrush & other related side effects. Then we had the wild fires here in California, and everyones bronchial tubes have been compromised. To add to the mix, I put 4 ribs out overextending myself in some African dance move during Zumba; my sweet sister moved in with her lovely, but incredibly long haired, Siamese cat, and my trigger happy histamines have been throwing a party in my bloodstream ever since.

Asthma is a complex disability. An invisible disability, it has kept me from doing so many "normal" things, from mowing the lawn to petting the ponies at the zoo to playing hockey at PE. There are so many triggers, that like migraines, it is a combination that will set off an attack, as well as dictate the severity. Environmental allergens, pet hair, dust, detergents play there part, but so does stress and the emotional component. Melissa Etheridge sings in my head,

Longing for home again
Home, is a feeling I buried in you

I'm alright, I'm alright
It only hurts when I breathe

My voice shook and I teared as I informed my daughter of my current condition, not wanting to worry her, but needing to be real. Quite simply, I have never felt just so plain scared. There is nothing like the feeling of not being able to breathe. Of waking up in the middle of the night, drowning in my own fluids. Of the tight constrictive band that is my lungs. Of the rattling wheeze as I drive home as fast as I can to reach my inhaler. I talked to her about my fears as well as my current health plan. She put her tender arms around my neck, leaned her forehead against mine and just whispered, "It's going to be okay, Mom. I know you're good taking care of yourself."

6 weeks of hell feeling welded into an iron corset, and now I'm getting better. I owe a huge debt to my acupuncturist, who treated me weekly, cupping my back until huge bruises blossomed, drawing out stagnant chi. She gave me the most intense treatments - Four Horsemen in the thighs, and Three Scholars in my forearms. For the first time ever I bruised from the needles. For the rest of the week I would massage the plum blossoms on my forearm, pretending I was massaging my lungs instead.

She put me on an intensive herbal regime to clear my mucous & build up my blood, including herbs such as Clear Mountain Air and Allerplex, which is some bovine lung extract. Sounds icky, but boy do I feel better. Also Vitamin C and Calcium Lactate. Each day I would feel less underwater, visualizing in my mind's eye fresh spring growth on the end of a huge tree, my bronchial tubes growing stronger every day. I steam cleaned all the carpets, changed the furnace filters, banned the cat's from the bedroom, and even (gasp) stopped drinking for awhile. Clean living indeed.

Just now read your blog
I must be the stupidest
Woman on the earth.

Asthma is a psychosomatic illness, and I have definitely felt the psycho. My last lover contacted me, saying the situation had changed. Then I opened Pandora's box and read on their blog all about their current new love affairs. I felt all the hope crushed out of me, worse than being stoned alive. In Chinese Medicine, they say grief is kept in the lungs, and all I have felt for the last two months is this deep sadness, of that part of me that is dying. The part that is dead. I dance with Kali Ma again.

In the Daughters of the Moon tarot, the Heirophant is replaced by the Oppression card. A woman is stoned to death outside her hut. I went to a counselor to get help in casting off my own stones that have been crushing my heart: deep shame, regret and remorse, compromise, self doubt, and the biggest stone of them all: guilt. The Heirophant is the false priest, but what has slayed me most was false hope.

Neptune, that lovely planet of fog & veils, of disappointment and disillusionment, has finally turned direct in Aquarius, which for me is in my house of relationships. I called my Reiki teacher for a distance healing. When she asked me to set an intent, it was quite simply, "Clarity." Each day I pray, may this fog of despair be lifted, may I see a new day ahead. Let me no longer be under an illusion, let me have fresh vision instead. Let my lessons be more gentle, and let my teachers be kinder. And let every breath be a gift.

Blessed be.

My Life Sucks

"Hi Bella, how are you?" My mom's Swedish accent sounding in my ear as I cradled the phone.

"Well, Mom, the good news is: I've fallen in love. The bad news is..."

I love my mom. Both herand my dad have been the epitome of tolerance and acceptance throughout my eclectic love life, which has ranged from my boyfriend living with us when I was a teenager to my fierce lesbian separatist days in my twenties to being with a female to male transsexual in my thirties.

"Mom, I've fallen in love with the Miele."

Yes, it was true. My mom had left her Miele vacuum cleaner at my house for 6 months while she packed up her house on the East Coast before moving to California. It was worth more than my current car. Candy red, hummed like a well tuned Lamborghini, and boy, can that machine clean!

I think I'm going to start a new movement: Appliance Love. We all know how attached some folks are to their cell phones and lap tops, let alone the Hitachi, but it is time to start coming out from the utility closet and declare our truths. Some of us have longer, more meaningful relationships with our household friends than with humans.

I see parades going down Pacific Avenue, led by the Precision-Drill Dust-Buster Squad, followed by the Microwave Marching Band, and of course, the Automatic Coffee Pot float will be one of the main attractions. I'll be Grand Marshall, my Miele beside me as we cruise in a well decorated convertible, throwing replacement filters into the cheering crowd. Everyone will chant, "2, 4, 6, 8... Take your fax machine on a date!"

Next we'll petition governments for the right to marry. I mean, there's domestic partners & then there is DOMESTIC partners, right? "To have and to hold, from this day forward, until death or the end of the warranty do us part..."

I made the gross mistake of attempting non monogamy with my Miele. Yes, I admit it - I let my housemate touch her hose, fondle her attachments, and (gasp!) change her bag. Now, I love and trust my housemate to the core, but my whole world shifted when I heard those words, "It just doesn't seem to be picking up like it used to..."

So yesterday I sat out on the back deck and took the Miele apart. Five years of accumulated cat fur, dust, threads and hair had worked its way in every conceivable crack, corner and crevice. I used screwdrivers, scissors, exacto knives and two different kinds of tweezers to lure the secrets out of my Miele. Who knows, maybe I'll try my own brain surgery next.


At a certain point my daughter came out onto the deck. She surveyed the vacuum cleaner parts spread methodically over the deck, my deep plum velvet skirt covered in grey lint, the look of glee in my eyes as I snapped open this and screwed shut that. She listened to me prattle on about how much money I had just saved by spending hours of my time doing this.

"Mom," she said in her funny drawl, "You are all the husband you will ever need."

Afterwards, I took the Miele upstairs to clean out the furnace for a test run. That's when I thought, my life sucks. But in a good way.

Appliance Love:
Have you Loved your Appliance Today?

My Kooky House

The running joke in our household is,
"People with no TV - what should we paint tonight, dear?"

I love my kooky house. A few projects: My mom I ripped up the carpet in the front room and discovered hardwood floors. Three days of us sanding and staining, and it looks gorgeous. There are 1300 origami cranes hanging from the ceiling in the back room. My first attempt at stenciling was in the study, a border of roses that took a kajillion years to complete.

Almost every room is sponged in three or four colors. We tiled the kitchen floor ourselves, and the I did the stain glass as well. What can I say about the coral reef bathroom - Yes, we even painted the toilet! I beaded close to a hundred crystals, that dance in every window. I discovered glass paints, and have transformed all the light fixtures, as well as the kitchen cabinets. The cloth lampshades have been tie-dyed and beaded.

The backyard was completely empty when I moved in, back in 1994. Now it's filled with locust trees, geraniums, hibiscus, roses, jasmine, trumpet vine, passion vine, Mexican sage, lavender, and hummingbirds galore. There are sunflowers painted on house, along with dragonflies and butterflies. And there are roses in January!

I even painted Tafy, my beloved 1985 Honda, which I recently sold after 19 years.