One more day....

Today is one more day. One more to be a better parent. One more day to be a loving wife. One more day to let go of anger. One more day to truly understand what it means to be in a relationship with love.

I read, "The Shack" recently, and while not the most intelligently or elegantly written novel ever produced,it is a moving and mind-altering parable about Christian beliefs; a beautiful realization of the holy Trinity, and our relationship with ourselves and therefore with God.

My relationship with a God of love is based in the Catholic faith. A faith I grew up in, came to abhore, and, ultimately and surprisingly, returned to as a source of great comfort in my maturity. Being Catholic is not easy. For so many reasons. From the personal challenge of living a just and selfless life, and then the politics of pain that we are all enduring and healing from because of the actions of a small sick celibacy that recruited damaged men.

Catholics are so overwhelmed with the public idea of who we are, that we have gone underground in our belief system rather than be hung, tarred, and feathered like witches and baby-eaters. No one talks of their beliefs anymore. We fear ridicule and the instant assumption that we must be fanatics without intelligence, independence, or mental stability. People think that if we bring up our faith we will attack them like the Amway lady, and insist on converting them to our cult on the spot. They assume faith equals denial of rational thought.

But our faith is the lens through which we focus on the love around us. It is not a priest, or even a doctrine that tells us who we are. It is a community coming together to learn about the greater mysteries of the universe. To touch for just a moment an intangible thought and idea. It is a chance to glimpse the outstretched hand of light and love that permeates every atom of space and the mysteries beyond.

To have good people in the Church is to seek a peaceful revolution from inside a system that needs change. I am proud to serve the love and light of the world, and to be a representative of safety and protection for the children in my life.

I thank God that I have one more day to breath. One more day to make a difference. One more day to make up for the hurt and the pain in my heart and the hearts of others. One more day to share the love and yearning for a happier life that we all seek.

The mysteries of the Universe are found in the eyes of our children. They are that love incarnate. I have one more day to be worthy, to guide, to share, to believe that I can bring love from my heart to theirs. I have one more day to get it right.

Thank God, I have one more day...

How do you know...

How do you tell the difference between a person on a cell phone and a schizophrenic? I mean really? They both hear voices in their heads. They both seem distracted and lose track of their surroundings when walking. Both have erratic driving behaviors and seem to be carrying on conversations no one else can hear. I don't see any difference at all.

Maybe cell phones are a shared delusion and we are all just plain crazy.

Polar Bear Butts and Grizzilies On The Way To School

Polar bears can show you their butts at the local Zoo. It is the bear version of the giving you the finger. They are pissed about global warming, but happy they got put up in luxury digs. They are really sorry about the folks back home, though.

And then there are the Grizzlies.....

The hazards of walking to school have increased. We don't worry as much about the human predators as the Grizzlies. They have started to wander the bike trails and parking lots of luxury hotels.

Hence the saying, "Send more tourists, the last ones were delicious."

Lemurs and France

In my house we have lemurs. They are dug in and show no signs of leaving, at least until they are eighteen. Lemurs are exceptionally curious, full of appetite, and ready to start a stink fight at a moment's notice. They climb on anything, poke their noses into everything, and fidget to death anything remotely interesting.

They are also prone to sudden lapses of absolute torpor and can sleep through a 6.4 earthquake when they set their minds to it.

The lemurs like to send their parents to France. France is where we go when our brains are leaking out our ears from the sonic onslaught of the high-pitched, dog-range-only voices of our children. We travel to France when we are desperately trying to remember The Five Most Important Things We Had To Do Today before our thoughts run screaming from our minds like the nannies in Mary Poppins.

France is triggered by crossing any threshold in the house, but the kitchen threshold is the most powerful. You flee the kitchen to escape the lemur shrieks and quick-make-a-list, but once you cross its border any thoughts you wanted to capture, whether about tomorrow's IRS audit or attending your Aunt's funeral, are lost and will only be recalled when it is definitely, absolutely too late to do anything about it and you hear sirens.

France is a vague and mystical domain. It it filled with minor chores and tasks. You find yourself making a scrapbook, re-potting a plant, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom, anything but the LIST. It is a subtle form of brainwashing developed between the children and the house fairies. Don't even get me started on the fairies.

My children have discovered that Mommy's brain is like the movie, "Memento". If you don't like the answer/consequence/clothing choice she has given you, wait ten minutes and ask her again. You will get a completely different answer.

When Mommy goes to France, she takes a vacation from her brain.

Children love vacations.


(photo by EPA)

Slow crazy

There is no time to write the great novel. The characters in my head are just another set of voices added to the constant sonic assault of "Momma, Momma, Momma...", that fills my every waking moment. My greatest creative works are five and eight years old and very chatty.

Somehow they are not the great works of philosophy, spirituality, and selfish achievement I had envisioned when I pondered how my creative energy would manifest in my life. There are still miracles; evidence of a higher power beyond understanding.

But things are getting serious. The voices in my head have hired an attorney. They are demanding equal time.

Now I know the true meaning of "slow crazy".

River beginning

The flow of my life follows the Kenai river. The river is an Alaskan legend, hailed for decades as the home of the giant 80lb king salmon. It is the only place they live. The river became a world famous tourist destination about the same time the Trans-Atlantic Pipeline began construction.

I grew up in the Alaska that existed before that time....

This is my story, and my journal of my life as it is today. The history and the present are from very different eras and I am still trying to adjust.