Life With A Lion

While it doesn't happen very often, for which I am grateful, there are times when My Lion and I can get heated with each other.  We have our disagreements that escalate into snarls, but generally we see eye to eye and live very companionably.

Not that on occasion, when he might be having a relatively frustrating day, I haven't had to ask a passer-by if they aren't willing to roll his lips back so I can pull my head out of his mouth.

But mostly, with a bit of returning to our corners, allowing both of us to cool our jets, we get to a place where the roaring becomes a discussion and we have the chance to hear each other out.

And peace returns to The Kingdom once again. Why?  Because he is my mate, my beloved, My Lion. A man of conviction and quality.  A man I can look up to and place my trust safely.

But mostly peace returns because I am a smart woman who understands that a lion has to be the King of his jungle. He has to prowl. Must snarl on occasion. And, I know just the right places to scratch and love. He is My Lion. And, I am blessed, even on those occasions when my head is all wet from lion spit.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka A Lion Tamer

Women's Day International

Only women can do the things that women do: Love, Nurture, Care, Laugh, Sing, Contribute, Win, Survive, LIVE!  Be Real Human Beings! Men will do it their way and that's all well and good. Certainly necessary. But, today we celebrate Women contributing and making a difference to this world of ours.

And, just because I love the song and the woman who sings it-

May you have a day that reminds you of your importance to the world around you. Sing it out Girls!

 Namaste' Till Next Time,
 Holly aka She Who IS

Listen With Curiosity

"Listen with curiosity...The greatest problem with communication is we don't listen to understand. We listen to reply. When we listen with curiosity, we don't listen with the intent to reply. We listen for what's behind the words."

-Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart

Most of us have heard part of this quote...the bit about the greatest problem.  I think the rest of the quote is the most important because, after pointing out the problem with listening, it gives us the ingredient needed to correct it.

Listen with curiosity--  Why does that change everything?  Because if you are curious about something or someone, it shifts how much you are willing to invest to discover the answer.  It's the bit that engages you in a process instead of simply being a witness to something.  It changes you from being passive to active.  It makes you a participator in a process.

There is a vast difference between hearing and listening! When you understand if you are in a hearing state vs. a listening state, you're able to change the communication dynamic when necessary.

So, what's the difference? I find it interesting that when you Google, "images of hearing," you get things that suggest the ear is the most important ingredient. 

But, when you type in, "images of listening," this is what you find...

...countless images of people with various expressions, obvious eye contact, being actively engaged in a process.

You see the connection, feel the interaction.  There is nothing passive about it! You sense that hearing is an autonomic (unconscious or involuntary response,) while listening is a Human, dynamic, spirit involved decision.

The kanji for listening explains it best...

Of equal importance to the functioning ear, is also the involvement of you- your eyes and heart, and your undivided attention.

When all parts of you are involved, you no longer feel the need to reply.  Instead, you are listening to give a great gift to another; you are listening to validate them.  You are listening to give someone the gift of being present.  You are reminding them that they are important, loved, cared about.

Instead of the need to talk, the listener is there to give another Human Being the gift of being Heard.

And, we all know what a relief and validation it is to feel as if we are heard when we desperately need to feel that someone understands or cares how we feel.  You are giving the great gift of one who is willing to really care what we think.

I always say that there's not a Human Being alive who isn't interesting or doesn't have a story that's worth hearing.  But we have thousands of Human Beings who are never asked to share their story with us. And that's a real shame.

Each chance you have to truly listen to someone is an opportunity to invite them to share a chapter of themselves.

While it's often said that curiosity killed the cat, it's also true that meeting each encounter with curiosity means setting the stage for true communication instead of a missed opportunity.  So, today, spend some time being curious about someone.  Use the time to sit still, be open and listen.

It makes all the difference between being simply heard and feeling truly important, even loved. You will give someone the best gift of all.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is A Good Listener

Only Four Questions of Value

This song continues to be my all-time favorite.  Can any of us really say why a song stands out so importantly?  Probably because of the time and place one first heard it.  Maybe it reminds us of a friend or lover and the poignant remembering of them.

Evan and I were talking one day about dating and how men and women are so different that it's hard to know what to do to make anyone happy.  I said, "If you want to know what women want, go listen, really listen to Bryan Adam's song, Have You Ever Really Loved A Woman?

He answered, "I wish I had money for every time a girl has said that to me..." then I countered, "If that many females have said it, then it's really simple to do your homework and listen.  It's a roadmap for what to do."

So why is this song so wonderful? For me, it's the Flamenco guitar played so fluidly by the great late, Paco de Lucia and the dreamy waltz quality of the music. And most certainly it's the intensely personal lyrics.  It's the passionate, intimate way that Adams sings this song.

I suppose I love it because it takes something so complex and boils it down to the essence of how to live when one is in love.

And for my readers who can't get enough of Johnny Depp, feast your eyes on this one while you listen to Chris Daughtry croon his version of this glorious song.

"There are only four questions of value in life...
 What is sacred?
 Of what is the spirit made?
 What is worth living for?
 And, what is worth dying for?
The answer to each is the same; only love."

Go through you day with love as your focus.  And know that women and men aren't that complicated. We simply hope for a love that we can see and feel every day expressed in the little things.  For, the little things are always the big things.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is Loved and Grateful

Spining Like A Top

When life seems to be running at a hectic pace that leaves us breathless we say, "I'm spinning in place," or "I feel like a spinning top!"  "Like a Whirling Dervish..."  generally indicates that we're going as fast as we can, attempting to keep up, and feeling exhausted for our efforts.

It can be so defeating, this feeling as if your best effort to stay in control is not enough.  Feeling as if Life is so much bigger than you can manage.

It's interesting that Whirling Dervish has become synonymous for everything spinning out of control when in reality since 1273, this Sufi moving mediation has been bringing Human Beings out of their daily grind and into loving connection with The Divine.  This ecstatic movement is performed by The Mevlevis- the Sufi Mystical Sect, to calm the mind, open the heart, and touch The Creator. The most famous Sufi is the poet, Rumi; the Mevlevis formed to mark his passing from this world and into immortality.

Proving, yet again, that what we think we're seeing is not always what we're seeing. In this case, to be a Whirling Dervish isn't about spinning out of control-- it's about moving with focus and intention. Even when spinning with wild abandon, Dervish don't worry about controlling life. They focus, instead, on dancing their way to an active relationship with life.

The Dervish spins with delight.  Swirls with joy.  Circles with intent.  Starting with one arm up and one down to open a channel to the love that comes from above us and sending it down to the earth. Then slowly both arms raise up and up in praise and connection with The Maker of All That Is.

The Dervish spins to remember the Qur'an teaching, "Hearts become tranquil through the remembrance of Allah."  The moving meditation brings peace to the dancer and to those who witness it. The religion of Islam really is one of peace, but in our world it's been corrupted and taken hostage by angry, hateful people of ill intent. Islam, at its heart, is like all other true faiths with its intention to make us aware that we are all threads in the tapestry of God.

The ecstatic movement of the Dervish personifies the quaint notion, "Dance as if no one is watching!"  They dance with the aim of reigniting connection with The Divine.  They circle and swirl until they lose their limited thoughts of being only Human. They dance in a group to give rise to collective energy and once raised, they share it with all the world for our peace, for our betterment, for our Humanity.

Look at her beautifully peaceful face. Her spins have filled her skirt.  It billows out and encircles her, holding her in a clear moment with her creator.  She is in love.  She shares it with us. At first glance, the movement may seem chaotic and wild but when you see her face, you become aware that things are not always as they seem.

When life seems as if it's all too much, don't stop spinning.  Just change what the spinning means. Change your view point.  Become the Whirling Dervish.  Use the world as music to help your spins bring you peace.

My Darlings, remember to dance through your day and life as if no one is watching! But, know that through it all, regardless of challenges or hard times, The Creator is always joyfully waiting to dance with you.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly

Silent Sermon Sunday

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Great Aunt Holly

Open Letter To My Valentine

My Very Dear Valentine,
Will you be mine for another year?  You and I are so great together.  We Still got it...
We're still the perfect match.

You are that sweet heart who makes my world so much better.  Who makes my life so very complete. You are my friend, my family, my love.  You!  Valentine's Day is all about you!  A chance to remind you how very important you are to me.

So, let me remind you that you can count on me to...

...Share quality time with you because any time we are together is the best time of all.

...Warm you when the world seems cold and harsh.

 

...Walk the path with you.  Sometimes I will take the lead and other times you will lead me, but mostly we'll just stroll side by side.  When we are weary of our journey, we will give each other the encouragement to continue!

...Help open doors for you or remove obstacles standing in your way because you most certainly do that for me!

...Shed light on your situation whenever you ask because I need you to do that for me! We will share the sunshine of silliness, smiles, and laughter.

...Continue to enjoy simple pleasures while searching out the big ones.  Little things like a cup of coffee or tea and an impromptu chat.  You and me taking a brief time to just BE!

...Be always available to give you a kiss and a hug.  I'm so very good at hugs!

...Be that touch of whimsy that is still so necessary.



Because, I truly do find every part of you fascinating and lovable.  All facets of you are perfect in my eyes; I wouldn't change a thing about you.  But, if and when you wish to change I will support your efforts.

All of this I will be and do gladly because you hold my heart safely in your hands and I want to remind you that yours is always safely in mine.

Happy Valentine's Day to all my Sweet Hearts!  Thanks for sharing everything you are with me.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Is So Lucky To Have So Many Sweet Hearts

Being Kinder Starts With...

...It's said it starts with yourSelf.  Whatever you want to push out into the world, if it's to be real and genuine it starts with really owning it and being it. The work starts from within and emanates.

I think that must be the hard part...it's always easier to see what's out in front of you.  Sometimes we forget the point of origin.  We forget to add ourSelf to the list of those who should get something good and meaningful.

This is my goal: To remember to give to me what I would so freely give to others.  To hone my kindness to what is real.  What is true.  What is of value.

If you feel I'm not giving as much to mySelf as I give to you, won't you be gentle and remind me? My spirit will love you for it.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Wishes To Be Truly Kind

Silent Sermon Sunday

This year, may you discover deep in your Spirit,
the courage of the Magi
And follow your star.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Seeks

Christmas Is For Children

"Oh, I wish you were coming home for Christmas, I'm really having a hard time with it this year," sighed Laura.  "Everything is different and I just want the Christmases when we were little.  Driving home in the dark from your house on Christmas Eve, I looked out of the car windows and hoped I'd see Santa in his sleigh.  I loved those Christmas Eves with you.  The pretty white tree upstairs and the the fun colored lights on the tree downstairs.  Sean and I loved being with that tree and watching television while we listened to you all laughing and talking upstairs.  I just want my white pizza and caesar salad and the same foods we always had.  Your tiny house on Falkirk Road and all the same people who are so close to us!"

She gave me the very best Christmas gift when she said that.  Really.  Because isn't that what Christmas is all about?  Working and planning to see the wonder and light in a child's eyes?  Creating the magic that is such a part of it?  And, really, who doesn't yearn for the holidays of their youth?  Don't most of  us wish that we could keep the traditions alive and unwaveringly the same?  We might be able to cope with the changes that life throws at us all the rest of the year, but in December...in December we want to hold things in crystalline perfection.  The Christmases of our childhood... 

Big Brother Glenn & 1, 1957

When I was a little girl, I would go to bed on Christmas Eve and wake in the morning to a house completely and magically changed.  In the corner where the wing chair had been was a huge Christmas tree with the large colored lights and tinsel and presents wrapped under it.  Does anyone do that anymore?  Do children still get the thrill of seeing the magic Santa brings when he creeps into the house for all the good boys and girls?  I hope so...but considering that we have pushed Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas into one big mashed up marketing mess, I doubt it.  And, that makes me sad.

Remember, since my father was incredibly physically disabled, it meant that somehow, he arranged for other adults to take time away from their Christmas Eve to come to our address to put up a tree and make the magic happen for his child.  One year, so I've been told, the Shift Sgt. of the Northern District Police Station wrapped on the apartment door.  When he came in, he found several burly cops with their tunics off, sleeves rolled up and in the middle of erecting a Christmas tree.  He just leveled a look at my father and them and asked, "Do you know that I don't have one cop on the streets in this part of the district?!  When you are finished being elves, get back to your duties.  Merry Christmas, Jimmy," and with that and a smile, he left. 

As a child grows, it's with the background of our traditions-  of dinners at a particular home and visiting with those who you don't see as often as you like.  The frantic ripping of paper and bows gives over to the art of sharing time and stories over dinner and dessert.  That's when you begin to learn the beauty of sharing the gift of your Presence as being more important than the presents that come with this time of year.  For our family, it meant making the trek to Aunt Katherine's house.  She always had it decorated so gloriously with flower arrangements and treasures from her Christmas collection.  Dinner was always a feast.  And for me, the drive to and from just Dad and me, was my favorite time of Christmas day.  We'd talk about everything and nothing.  The quiet allowed us to decompress from the hectic, and let's be frank, sometimes stressful hours of La Familia being together.  If we saw pretty lights in the deep dark, I'd slow the car so we could take them in.  Peaceful and meaningful was this time with my Dad.

The King & I chatting at Christmas Dinner, 1978

When Doog and I moved into our tiny row-home on Falkirk Road in 1979, even though it was only 18 feet wide, we knew we wanted to share it with others for the holidays.  Sean and Laura were at the age when they simply couldn't wait to open gifts.  The notion that they might have to wait for a couple of days after Christmas until we could all get together was just crazy!  So, that's when my idea of having them over for Christmas Eve started.   Our intimate gathering included friends Carole & Al and Jim. Others would stop by, but for the most part it was just the closest friends and my brother's family.  The meal?  White pizza and Caesar salad made in my galley sized kitchen with lots of tasty hors d'oeuvers and cookies.  Each person brought their favorite and that was our Christmas Eve meal.

Presents were shared.  We laughed a lot.  And we talked until the childrens' eyes drooped.  I looked forward to that night every year.  To learn that they mean so much to Laura, is truly a gift.  Over time, the address changed, but the tradition continued.  My home on Long Green Road was the Christmas Eve spot for many years.   Two children were the reason for all those years of holiday get togethers.

My Brother & Sister-in-Law, Linda

My house was larger and more people came to be part of the annual celebration, but we were lucky to have those same core merry makers there, too.  I still did two trees and the meal remained the same.  More people could cram in my kitchen as pizza was being made. The laughter and the chatter still a major focus. 

Laura, Linda, and Yours Truly

I worried as Laura and Sean got older, that Christmas Eve wouldn't be as important to them as it had become to me. I shouldn't have because, even when they started dating and being independent, they still made their way to my house to share 'their' night.  So the years passed and the Christmas Eve celebrations merrily continued.

When Michael and I moved away, I turned over the Christmas Eve celebration to Laura and Linda.  I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I wish that I was still the hostess for that special night.  Some years I am with them and other years, like this one, I am with them in spirit.  Laura and Eric, (Eric loves hosting parties,) have become the Christmas Eve house.  And, here at our home, Michael and I share the day with the love of Melissa who will be here with Pete for Christmas Eve.  The traditions we have made as a new family are different from those I knew; we will be having a standing rib roast instead of pizza for our special dinner.  Evan will call from Florida and we will wish that both of our children were with us but understand that life has changed and so must our celebrations.  I cherish these new traditions with my new family.

Hostess with the Mostess, Laura and Ava

 I suppose it's what we learn about our traditions; they must flex with life while still exerting their magical ability to remain fixed,  reminding us of what we value, what we cherish, what is meaningful and good about life.  The address may change.  New people may join the group.  And, we remember those who are no longer with us, often smiling and tearing up while doing so.  The magic is that they feel so much closer to us at this time of year!  We realize that they are now part of the traditions that mean so very much.  We take the time to let those we love know how incredibly important they are to us.  We hug a second or two longer, handshakes are stronger and we are more free with our kisses.  For those of us who are grown, this is the magic of Christmas. 

My Beloved Brother

We value the moments that make us rejoice in the power of our festivals of light and love.  We need them.  So, we must invest in them and never take them for granted.  As I explained to Laura, "If you love your Christmas Eves, don't be sad that they've changed because the traditions we started with you and your brother are yours, now, to share with your girls.  Honor the memories we made for you by building traditions for Livy and Ava.  It's now your turn to make Christmas magic for them so that they will always look back at the Christmases of their childhood with the same love and longing that you look at yours and I look at mine.  It's time to do it for your girls."

The idea that she can take the magic we made for her and spread it to her girls seemed to help both of us.  It takes away the sadness of  inevitable change and gives power to the fleeting days of  our Yuletide.  Because Christmas, after all, is for children...

My Lion and Olivia

...and since we are all children of The Creator who loves and adores us, it means that Christmas, and all our tradition, continues to be for all of us no matter how far away we are from each other or how long we have lived.  Merry Christmas to My Daughter of The Heart.  I love you very much.  Thank you for making Christmas so meaningful for me.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Aunt Holly, Great Aunt Holly, New Guy

The Many Faces of Love

This is the chair in my office.  As I sit here typing to you, it's directly behind me.  That's Argyle laying there taking a snooze.  I generally never know if he's there because he's very quiet and sneaks in to rest.  He's allowed in the chair, so it's not as if he's trying to pull one over on me, he's just very quiet in the house.  The only time he's acting The Wild Highlander is when he's outside being part of the Midnight Bark or returning salvos of information down the long country road to tell the farm dogs what's going on up here on his end of the road.

I notice as time goes on, he's been with us two years now, he's very often here in the office with me.  It makes me happy.  And, it makes me feel safe.  But, today as I sit here listening to Christmas songs, it occurred to me that it also makes me feel loved.

Now, you need to know something about terriers: they are not, let me repeat, are NOT lap dogs.  They aren't necessarily all that cuddly.  If you want a dog who needs, wants, demands to be with you all the time, you'd best consider a Pom or a Poodle, or any number of breeds, just not a terrier.

It's not that they aren't social or pack animals because terriers certainly are, it's just that they're not needy that way.  Let me see if I can tell you how it goes with them:  A terrier goes about its day and every once in awhile they realize they should check to see where you are and if you are where they left you.  Once they determine that all is the way they want it, they go about their business and allow you to do the same.

This part of the terrier personality is one of the reasons I've always been drawn to them.  But, I will admit, there are times when I wish that I had a snugly, lovey dog who just wants to curl up with me all the time.  Times like now, when Christmas is here, and sentimentality takes on a life of its own and can swamp me with emotions.  Just having a wee soul that thought of me as the center of its universe and that could take the place of those I wish I was with for the holidays but will only be with in spirit.

A dog to curl up on me when I'm sitting exhausted from all the doing that the holidays brings on the ribbons and bows trailing through our lives.  A quiet presence that makes me relax as we sit together and just rest. 

But, alas, I have terriers.  And, it's just not their way.

So, when I turn around and see Argyle, it occurs to me, that I feel loved when I spy him there.  Even though he's doing his thing, he's doing it in the same room.  And, it reminds me that he likes resting with me someplace close by.  He's deliberate in his choice of where to be...  he loves me in his way on his terms.

And, that's what I wanted to say today.  Love, comes in many different aspects and is presented to us in ways some subtle and some overt.  But, love, like most profound emotions generally doesn't shout; instead it slips in and fills us up.  Like Argyle quietly slipping up into the chair to rest as I work.

This holiday season, I hope you have the gift of awareness to discern and accept the aspects of love that are in your life, especially if you are struggling with feeling loved or are missing special folk.  I hope you can let go of the ideas you have about what love is and is not, and instead, open your hands and hearts to the love that is there, all around, subtle, quiet, waiting.  Love that is yours as a gift from The Creator who sends out the very best for all us, especially at this holy and profoundly moving time of the year.

Thank you, Argyle, for reminding me of the many faces and facets of  love.  We brought you home, two years ago for Christmas.  You continue to be a wonderful gift who makes me smile.  I love you, too. Yes, I understand you're trying to rest here.  I'll be quiet now.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Argyle's Mommer

Silent Sermon Sunday

A few short years ago,

Seven to be exact,

I married my best friend.

I am blessed.

Hope you can recognize that you are, too.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Mrs. Michael Frock

July Jots And Musings

It's finally July again.  It is a month with lots of moments that mean something to me.  I wish I liked it more, but it falls right in the middle of summer and is always blistering hot.  And, hot and me?  Not a good combination.  I hate to be hot.  Hate. To. Be. Hot.  But, it's such a big month.  Birthdays for certain.  Canada Day and Independence Day here...major celebrations, parades, picnics, fireworks, (which by the way, Rory absolutely is phobic about which is another reason that July can work on my nerves.)

My next door neighbor Allen and I share the same birthday which is fun.  We generally get together for drinks and a "Cheers to us and our new year!" 

Vacations are a big part of July...and one can always look forward to that.  This year My Lion and I are headed to the New York Finger Lakes area.  We'll stay in a bed and breakfast and tour around on The Spyder seeing a new part of the country.  I am sure it will be fun.

I turn 58 years old on the 12th.  I  try reading that number and not wonder how I can be 58 when I'm certain that I'm really only 28.  There's a 30 year disparity there.  30 years....30 YEARS.  I know by today's standards that's not 'old' but it's mind altering to realize how different reality can be from the image and vision one holds in their head.

58; it's not old, but pretty substantial.  And yet, older as I am, I still remember Julys most clearly from my days as a kid on Howard & 27th Street in Baltimore.  The heat from all the concrete and asphalt.  The people coming out of their homes to sit on their front porches under the yellow glow of the many street lights.  Sitting and rocking, hoping to catch an errant breeze, talking over the low walls or rails that separated their porch from their neighbor's porch.  Rails low enough that you could throw a leg over to drop something off to them or borrow a cup of sugar.  Easily chat over if both were inclined. Large enough to respect the need of the other to simply sit and not talk.  Not eavesdrop on conversations that might be easy enough to hear but had nothing, whatsoever, to do with you.  Short enough to be neighborly; tall enough to be respectful. Such is life in row-homes.

Flower boxes on wide porch walls growing petunias or other mundane flowers that could withstand the heat of high summer in a city.  Or, in the case of my pragmatic grandmother, basil and herbs grown in an aluminum wash tub.  The sound of conversations or laughter more easily heard after the roar of rush hour cars had faded away.  Kids standing on the street corners in groups, laughing and being kids.  Until their noise got too big and then an adult would yell at them and tell them to move off.  Sometimes they did; sometimes they'd stand there in defiance.  At least until the beat cop strolled by and then they'd scatter.

For me as a kid, the 4th of July was a prelude to the much more important date of July 12.  My birthday was always way more important to me.  But one year, the year I was to turn 9, the 4th of July changed everything for me.

My Grand Pop got up and started his day as he always did, except for some reason, he decided to put on one of his good suites.  And, Nanny The World's Meanest Woman, chuffed at him for putting on his good clothes.  She strongly suggested he go change into something else because we were having a family picnic later and he was sure to get food on it.  But, he waved her off and went to sit out on the front porch.  He sat and waited for the time to pass until it was time for all of us to leave.

Nanny was on her way down the steps to get something out of the cellar when she felt as though she really needed to go check on Nick.  She thought it silly and started down the steps again, only to feel as though something was pulling at the back of her house dress.  She'd felt that before, when one of her six children turned out to be in serious trouble, but not for years.  Following her instincts she went back up and through the long house out to the porch.  She stood next to Pop who looked up at her and said quietly, "Mom, I don't feel so good," and he slumped into her.

Across the street Uncle Joe, Nanny's brother, happened to be sitting on his porch, a rare day off.  It being a holiday, his green grocery located across the alley from the back of our home was closed.  All the beautiful produce normally out on the steps locked tight inside.

Joe, saw and rushed across the street after yelling for Aunt Rose who raced out of their house.  Neighbors gathered and someone called an ambulance.  It came quickly.  But it drove away slowly to Union Memorial Hospital; no lights, no siren, no need because Grand Pop was gone.  Just that quickly.  Gone.  And the world changed for all of us.

Typical of a kid who has the myopic vision of one who has only been alive for a short time, I was totally angry with Pop.  His dying certainly meant the end of my birthday plans!  And, I never said a word to anyone about how disappointed I was in him for ruining my birthday, not to mention what I would always remember about The 4th of July!

I couldn't stay mad at him long.  Very shortly, my sadness over his leaving overtook any other thought or feeling.  I loved him.  And, his death was the very first one that I had experienced.  I knew other people had died, but he was the first person whom I loved and cared about that I had to process.

Shortly after his death, the family decided it would be better for Nanny if Dad and I moved in with her.  I didn't want to do that.  I liked our apartment over the restaurant!  We were just across the street from her, why did we have to move in?  But, I was a kid and had no say so we moved.  I had been all right with visiting with Nanny and Pop whenever I felt like it.  It was good to have another home to visit, like visiting with Aunt Rose and Uncle Joe across the street.  Or visiting with Aunt Rose and Uncle John on the other corner.  But, I sure didn't want to give up my home to move in with Nanny! 

Life went on again.  It always does.  And so many more Julys and Independence Days have come and been celebrated in my life.  Along with many more birthdays.  Now I'm glad that Pop went out with a bang on the 4th because I never ever forget him on that holiday and always stop to give him a thought and I love you.

But, this year it occurs to me that one of the reasons I don't always like the coming of my own birthday is colored by that 4th of July so very long ago when Grand Pop changed the world for me.  And, while I'm no longer sad over his passing, having the wisdom and experience to process it correctly, somehow, my birthday has never been as joyful for me.  That, I've never really been able to change.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Nicholas Dituri/Dietor's grand daughter

To Remind You That You're Special

Sometimes, you just wonder what you're doing here.  What's it all for?!  Why do I have to go through all this stuff?  Is it worth it?  Why does it have to be so hard?  Is this all there is?!

And, I don't have the answers to any of those questions.  But today, TODAY, sit in the understanding that you are, indeed, special.  Why?  Because while you may be only one of millions of others on this day, still...

...in the entire Universe, you are alive on this date.  A date of synchronicity that won't be repeated in millenia.  You get to live this date, write this date, Be on this date.  So be aware of how special you are on this date.

It's been said that all of us who are alive at this time have agreed to be here during this significant point.  We have agreed to be part of the change coming in our Humanity, our consciousness, our collective intelligence.  You are part of the change and a happy warrior of the shift in Being!

And, while 12-12-12 a great date to be aware of the beauty of you and the unique gift you are, the fact is any date should be an opportunity to feel this.

When you need to be reminded of how wonderful and necessary you are, contact me.  I'm happy to remind you of the glorious gift of you on any date!

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Feels The Shift

The Difference Between a Breath and a Sigh

I try not to dwell on the things that trouble me.  I don't like to spend much time being Pitiful Polly in the Mud Puddle.  Sometimes I do better than others to shake of the niggling things that tweak my nerves.  This is not one of those times.

I just said to friend last night, "What is it about the holidays?  They are supposed to be joyful or at the very least, peaceful.  It would appear that for many of us right now, such is not the case.  There is very little merry and bright.  And, I know it's all a question of perspective and the willingness to see the bright in any dark time, but honestly, all I seem to be able to do is join old Charlie Brown and, *SIGH*

Right now, I'm not sure I care if the Mayans are correct.  If the world is ending on the 21st of this month?  Well...

The weather here in The Laurel Highlands is beyond nasty.  It has been gray and dull for days!  Lights on in the house all day with the brightest light being cast by my a computer screen while I spend time catching up on email which is rather thin these days, and Face Book where I snoop at the slivers of info friends and family might post.  Wait, I had to stop for a sip of coffee and a huge *SIGH*

Let's see...there's Fiona who is sick and we don't know why.  More tests start today to see if we can determine what it is; it's leaning towards Cushing's Disease, but that's vague.  Anyone who has animals or children understands how a situation like this can suck the life out of you while your brain runs like a gerbil in a wheel.  You bounce all over the place.  You want to have an answer, but you're fairly certain you may not like the answer.  You bounce between be frustrated, jittery, and you *SIGH* a lot.  The cost of determining what is the issue really mounts up quickly.  You don't want it to be about money because this is a small body you love, but you can't help but be concerned.  So Christmas this year will be spent on a vet bill; that's all right, I didn't see anything I wanted anyway.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.  *SIGH*

I love you, Fiona; you're only seven.  There's something about your self contained, bossy way that makes me love you even when I can't always like you because you're not all lovey and smooshie.  You're you and well, *SIGH* I'm not ready to consider not having you in my life and...

I am lucky to have a very pragmatic and joyful vet who views me as a partner in the process of caring for my dogs.  I trust him very much.  So, I'll work along with him to see where this latest path of owning and loving a pet leads me.  It's not an unknown road to me, but each time, with each animal, the journey is different.

Last night, while we were watching a movie, we let the dogs out.  Instead of doing their business, they decided that something needed to be ferreted out of a hole and began digging.  Did I tell you that it's been gray and raining for days here?  Yeah?  Well, trust me, it wasn't pretty.  They were, in fact, such a mess that we had to pause the movie and take them up to have baths.  Bathing them means, I get in the tub with them because it's easier that way.  I'm not certain, but I may have mud in my girly parts now.  *SIGH*

I suppose it's nice to have clean dogs who smell of Baby Dog, but really?

Now this morning, Rory is having trouble pooping and looks totally uncomfortable.  He wouldn't eat his breakfast.  He went out three times and circled and circled and circled, only to come inside and have to hunker up.  What comes out of him looks like musket balls.  *SIGH*  That was him; he hates to do bad-boys in the house.  *SIGH* that was me; I can only worry about one dog at a time!

At least Michael is home with me for a few days to be my emotional support.  It's so much easier to be dealing with sick animals or children when you have a partner with you.  I send a prayer up for any single parent who deals with this; *SIGH*

We heard from Evan; he has landed safely in Afghanistan where he will be for the next six months.  It makes me *SIGH* a lot.  He absolutely can't say much to us about what's going on and what he's involved in and with.  We understand that, but it does make for weak conversation.  And, while I do *SIGH* when I think of what he's doing, I also feel the immense pride I have when I consider his absolute willingness to do what needs to be done in the far flung corners of the world our military finds itself.

I have to go now.  It's time for me to drop off a pee sample to the vet.  Oh yeah, standing outside in the rain to catch a urine sample from Fiona?  *SSSSSSSIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHHH*

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Sighs A Lot

Silent Sermon Sunday

Divine Source who walks with us each day, 

Walk with our son as he, once again, does a warrior's work

In the forbidding, harsh places that call for our nation's children

to do what must be done.

Let him feel your presence in his days.

Keep him aware, open, and attentive.

Let his time in the austere parts of our world

work to deepen his spirit and expand his humanity.
And, help us live as fearlessly while we wait for his return.

~ Amen

Namaste' Till Next Time,

Holly aka Airman Frock's Other Mother

An Entire Year

 It's amazing how much can happen in the passing of 365 days.  Some of it good, some you wish you could avoid.  But on average, if we're really lucky, the passing of a year evens out into more good moments than not.

And, so here I am showing you that from that...

...to this is how Argyle has changed in his first 365.

He is happy all the time.  Greets each day as if it is the best thing ever.  He's complicated and smart.  He's a challenge.  But mostly, he's just my dog.  More than the other two are mine.  Rory & Fiona belong to themselves, but this dog is more in relationship with me.

Argyle, well, he's in a class by himself.  Happy 1st birthday you crazy Scot.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka Mommer

Home Cooking

 Our recent family vacation to Florida to visit with Evan has ended up costing us a great deal more than we had budgeted.  It's left us expendable cash strapped until the end of the year.  That's all right; we needed to have some family time together before Evan is deployed again...probably at the end of November.  We had a wonderful time.

In order to stay within our means, Michael has asked that I really watch the household budget and one of the major chunks of cash out-flow is eating out.  So, I committed to making meals at home.  Not that it's a problem; I actually enjoy cooking.  What I don't enjoy is thinking up what to cook.  And, the notion of planning ahead still alludes me.  If someone came in each week with planned menus and had done all the ingredient securing, I'd be in hog heaven.  (I've never really understood that phrase....what exactly would hog heaven look like?!)

We ate dinner every day between 4:30 and 5:00 at Nanny's house.  She'd start cooking as soon as her afternoon 'stories' were over.  Around 4, Dad would make the walk across Howard Street from the restaurant where he'd spent the day, first in the office taking care of the bills, then in the print room running off the menus, and followed that by his turn at the register in the packaged goods part.  We ate this early to give Dad a chance to eat, relax, watch the evening news, change into a suit and go back to the restaurant to close up at night.  When I was a kid, I thought everyone ate dinner that early.

I was expected to be present at dinner each night; no excuses.  Occasionally, I was given permission to eat at a friend's house.  As I got older, high school events would be considered.  But, mostly, I was expected to work my social life around the constant of the kitchen table and time with my family. 

The tradition of family meals every night and Sunday Supper with even more family gathered around is part of my Mediterranean heritage.  It's a significant part of how I view myself.  But, over time of living alone for many years, a hectic life full of work demands and struggles, the ritual of the evening meal became less and less practiced.  Let's face it, it's so much less complicated to go out to eat.  And, I never have to clean up afterward, although I will admit that Michael is very good about that...most nights he does the clean up. 

This is my kitchen.  I try very hard to keep it looking like this, but I'd be lying if I said it always looks this way.  If we ate out all the time, it would be so much easier to keep it this clean!  Our meals are always at the kitchen table.  I have a very nice, intimate dining room but for some reason, even when we have company, meals are eaten here.  Especially if our company is Italian as we all seem more comfortable eating in the kitchen.

The 30 minutes or so that it generally takes Michael and me to eat our supper is time for the two of us to sit in each other's space and simply be with each other.  Many nights, the television is on while we dine.  I don't mind as it helps Michael to decompress.  We talk with each other about current events and small chat.  Dogs at our feet hoping that tonight might be the night they score food from the table.  It never happens but they always hope.  There's absolutely no magic to the time.  Or, maybe there is and it simply goes unnoticed.  Maybe we should be more aware of the what it really means.

I came across a quote by Chef Mario Batali about the topic of family meals. It stuck with me when I think about the dying art of the kitchen table supper and why it concerns me:  "For family meals, the schedule is as important as the discussion.  It's the little things like rhythm and ritual that bring the family around the table and trigger a shift in mentality away from the guarded thought processes developed during long and stressful days. and toward the relaxed state of mind found in the safety and comfort of the family supper." 

It confirms what we all know: what we eat isn't anywhere near as important as when and with whom we eat.  And, I suppose we could add, 'where' to the list of important ingredients.  Now days, a great deal more stressful things like figuring out the bills, or dealing with difficult  topics of  conversation, or work projects happen around our kitchen table rather than meals.  And, that seems a shame to me.

Eating in, being with our most important people in the relaxed and familiar atmosphere of our kitchens and homes is probably one of the best things we can do for ourselves.  It gives us a touch-stone of safe in a chaotic world.  Trust me, I understand that it's not easy or convenient what with working full time and multiple, often conflicting, family member schedules.  Combine that with the multiple choices available for carry-out and eating out.  But, it seems to me that most good things in life aren't easy or convenient.

In an odd way, I'm glad our vacation has caused me to have to get creative and consistent once again.  It means that I have to opportunity to invest in the magick of the every day for Michael and me.  Even if that magick comes in a Spam can occasionally.  There is nothing wrong with mac' and cheese coming from a box with your embellishments!  Not all meals need to be the caliber of the Cordon Bleu or worthy of a magazine spread.  They simply need to bring you all into a quiet moment of conversation and being at the table.

If your table is buried under everything and anything but food, including projects, papers, beading, knitting, laptops, glue, pens, unidentified objects...how about clearing it off and using it for what it was intended?  A flat surface, an alter if you will, where you have the opportunity to celebrate and acknowledge the gift of the close another day and the company of those who mean the most to You.

Mangia Bene,
Holly aka Louisa Dituri's Granddaughter
At The Kitchen Table artwork by Michael DeBrito courtesy of the Internet