Gathering Inspiration

Time heals, love grows.

I am a believer in the mystery of life.
Where one cannot find the will to succeed and another can?
My friend has been time.
Time to ease into routine, fall back in line
and also to take a step backwards and allow myself tender tears.

A few nights ago, July 25th, as I lay in bed, aware of that moment between alertness and the abyss of sleep, I had a vision. I could see my brother John, as clear as day. His gaze looked away, but strongly in view of me. He was smiling. His eyes relaxed, genuine reflections of a peaceful joy. No words, only the vision and my sense of how he felt. He was content. I held that vision for a while, filled my heart, and drifted to sleep.

The next day, (yes, you know what is to come, especially if you read the previous post on my need/ability for matching clues to my life's experiences), I found out that my friend Angela (aka: Napa Wildlife Raptor Rescuer) had gotten a call about an adolescent female Kestrel that was found. A third one in a matter of months, and so late in the season. Even Angela is amazed, my raptor expert! I have a thing for Kestrels. John yet again played his charming tricks with me, sending a kestrel again—a devilish brother, yes he is—and a smiling one. This time, it was a female kestral, like the one he found and I rescued from him when we were young.

I haven't seen her yet, hoping to tomorrow.
But here's a few snapshots of her.
What would we ever do without our smartphones?

Thank you John.

Falco Spaverius: In Spiritu et Veritate

Kestrels (falco spaverius) are one of my most beloved and favorite of birds.

They are the smallest member of the falcon family and are found throughout the Americas. Like all birds of prey, they are strongly connected to the accuracy of movement. Their most prominent features are speed and grace in hunting. They perch high above their prey and when the time is right they swoop down, hover in the air and attack. Amongst most birds, hovering is uncommon. This represents the natural skill these small falcons have — to use flight to the maximum advantage.*

How is it that I know about them? Well, one had chosen my backyard in Chicago, back in the Spring/Summer of 1984. I was about 11 or 12. I had noticed that my devilish twin brother John, was having way too much fun with the hose. I was curious so I decided to investigate. I think he joked and said something like "look at that dumb pigeon, he's just taking it!" all the while spraying it and all its feathers wet with the hose. I looked and immediately knew it was no pigeon. It was brown, with black flecks in it's chest and wings, dark crown, Cleopatra-like markings on the sides of its eyes, a beautiful hooked beak and long talons for a dove-sized bird. I realized quickly it was a young bird of prey, and immediately yelled at John to stop because he was hosing down some form of hawk. Thankfully he listened, looked again, dropped the hose and left. When I went up to the bird, I looked at it and it returned its stare at me with intense dark eyes, unusually calm considering what it went through. I found a worm, held it up to its beak, but nothing. Not interested. I wondered, would it feel comfortable enough to jump on my hand? So, I held out my right hand to it, index finger pointing long, thumb away for clearance. And yes, it jumped onto my hand. From that moment on, I knew he/she felt comfortable enough with me, or it at least knew that when I showed up, the blast of water stopped and I was somehow connected to that. What I later found out was it was an American kestrel, a female because it was primarily brown. An adolescent still, it probably got tired from flying with new wings and on an empty stomach. It looked thin. My initial guess was that it was a young peregrine falcon due to similar markings on the side of its face, but was told by the wildlife rescue folks who came the next day that this was a frequent mistake. Back then, I only had one resource to measure my guess/research — the encyclopedia, so I didn't feel too bad, happy to know the exact species. Nonetheless, she and I bonded. She never bit me, and I was immediately drawn to her graceful beauty, her fierce eyes and need for inevitable freedom. She was picked up the next day and checked out to be healthy. As far as I know, she was released back into the prairie farmlands of Illinois and Wisconsin.

Kestrels gifts include accuracy of movement, speed and grace, mental concentration, acting at the correct moment, patience and precise action.*

The call came late in the evening, several, 6/4/2011. When the caller doesn't quit trying and you are in bed sleeping, it's a first warning. I picked up my phone. Seven calls made by my mom, one from my nephew. Something was wrong. Brace yourself. Then I heard it.

I think your brother is dead.

I hear a radio dispatcher in the background. Is the police there? Let me talk to him.

I'm sorry, he was already gone when he was found.

Silence.

He did it. He finally did it. Third try, and he did it. Fuck. And Johnny found him? His son? Fuck. Crap. My mom tried to give him CPR? Shock is settling in us all. I know. But when the reality of this hits, what will follow?

My twin brother committed suicide. His third attempt and succeeded. The other 2 times, he was lucky (at least to his loved ones), he was  unsuccessful. But he finally did it. Shock. Bitterness. Disbelief. Anger. Be strong Julia, the family needs you.

In kestrel people this advantage shows through the strengthening of ones intuitive agility. Kestrel people frequently have the urge to sit or be placed in a position with expansive views. They have a strong desire to spend time alone, and need to feel a sense of independency to keep a relationship healthy. Suited well to any kind of work that entails planning, they also make great diplomats and strategists. *

I flew out the next evening to be back in Chicago. Monday morning, family meeting. Discuss what needs to happen among his children, his ex-wife and my mother. We have consensus on what needs to happen. I start making calls: medical exam department, John's psychiatrist, hospital, funeral homes. Within 2 hours, I've secured the information I needed and we were on our way to a selected funeral home. Tuesday morning. Burial and cemetery details are secured as well. Remaining was service planning. My niece and I worked quickly to provide a final draft of scriptures, eulogy, memories and photo of John to the reverend conducting the services. Funeral services and burial was scheduled for 1pm Thursday. The last person I was giving any thought to was myself, trying to be the one to hold it all together and keep the calm in the family when possible. But, what I learned most definitely is everyone processes death differently, and I could do only so much.

Reality hits when an open casket is allowed towards the end of the service and that's when I see John. It's been a while. Too long. Stupid disagreements, arguments and an estranged wedge had gotten lodged between us. Had I known that wedge would also cut me off from my twin, I would have, could have, should have….. yes, guilt starts to set in. I break. My heart breaks.

Kestrel shows how to discover ones personal rhythm and act accordingly. As ones personal energy field is increased and broader vision is developed, one learns when to act and when not to.*

The anger, guilt, bitterness, disbelief are gone. In it's place come the waves of sadness, numbness and difficulty of clear mindedness. There is something about twins. It's true. While we weren't identical—he was boy and I, girl—we still had experiences only twins could possibly know of. Where one chips a tooth and the other does the same a week later; sputtering the same exact phrase much more frequently than the best of friends; or just having a sense, knowing what each other is feeling. My rhythm is off. I go, then stop, a lot. It's hard to know what to do first or where to pick up. It started the week before his death. I felt fatigue unusual for me, a very deep form of fatigue. I thought I was just over doing it as usual. The day of his death, I cancelled out on plans for an outdoor concert experience in Sonoma because I felt off. The weather didn't help. It had been raining all day. There goes $170 down the drain, but I just didn't feel like going. In bed by 8:30pm. And that is when a few hours later, I get the calls.

There have been signs, symbols happening, which I can't explain. They scare me but also give me great comfort. I've listed them.

1) The week leading up to John's death: Two mourning doves were hanging around our driveway area for the week for the first time. Even my neighbor who shares a drivewaywith us noticed. One of them kept flying out of one of the large planters every time I opened the front door. I think, That's sweet and all, but are you sure you want to cozy up there?

2) I arrive in Chicago 1am, Monday. I find out that Mama dove has laid 1 egg. We hadn't realized, but she had built a nest.

3) Morning of the funeral. As I got ready, I noticed something on the floor of the bathroom. The bathroom I had intensely cleaned from floor to ceiling because it was the bathroom he was found in. Who dropped something and didn't pick it up! I bent down, looked closer. It was a fallen bird, fake, dove-like. I look up. It fell from a small basket of nylon flowers sitting on the window ledge. I picked it up. An egg back home, a fallen bird here. John, are you saying goodbye? I decided in that moment to put it in his hand at the service. I did.

4) After the service. Tears. They had to come out. I needed to be alone. I walked. It's cold and wet outside from the rains. I find a park bench and sit, enclosed by bushes. I get a text. Mama dove has laid a second egg. There's that 2 thing again. Twins. More tears.

5) Saturday afternoon. Waiting in line at the airport. Another text. 2 baby kestrels were found earlier in the week back in Napa, and one on the day of my brother's funeral. They were brought in to my friend who rescues raptors for Napa county. She never has received a baby kestrel ever, let alone two, so this was just as special for her. She knows I love kestrels. She remembers why. My Chicago story with my brother. She says when they are old enough I can release them back into the wild. I'm touched.

Friday, 6/24/11. I went to see the kestrels, since I would be releasing them in 2 days. My wildlife friend gets an emergency call to get baby raccoons, so she has to leave, but I and my 5 year old son can go into the flight cage and see them. They will just fly around us, she says, so you can go in. We do that. I see one perched above, and then flying back and forth, annoyed that we entered his area. Where's the other one? Then I look down. My heart sinks. The other kestrel is on the ground, mouth partly open, barely breathing. It's wings skewed apart, unmoving. Ants already circling it. My mind reacts. Liam, go get my cell phone from the car! We have to call Angela! He runs, but comes back empty-handed because he can't get the door open. I remember, her daughter is home. I go to the house, and ask her to call her mom. We go back to the flight cage. I crouch low, and pick him up. He's gasping. I caress his limp body carefully and we walk back to the house, and place him in a pet carrier with towels around him. He feels cooler than normal. I gently pet his crown and say goodbye. We leave. I find out later that night, the little kestrel died.

I know, without a doubt, that was John's final way of saying goodbye to me. He knew I loved those birds because of our history with one.

Sunday, 6/26/2011. Release day. It is set for 4pm. We drive out to the Napa location where it was found as a baby. With Angela giving me reminders of how to handle the feisty one, I decided to do it with bare hands. He's strong. I hold him firmly yet gently. I am surrounded by my loved ones. I feel so much gratitude. For me, the act of releasing this wild animal, was not only for the kestrel itself, but also in forgiving myself and my brother for our loss of the years and to one another. To know that my wish for him is "John, May You Be at Peace".

I will always feel like half of me is missing. But, I will forever be a twin. These little blips of my experience, perhaps more special to me than anyone can know, help me heal. It is in Mother Nature herself that I feel is putting her loving embrace around us both to warm our hearts. Recently, I stumbled on a short speech given by Albert Einsten called "My Credo" in which one of the lines really moved and held me. "Although I am a typical loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has preserved me from feeling isolated. The most beautiful and deepest experience a man can have is the sense of the mysterious." More than ever, I heed these words and its meaning—in spiritu et veritate (in spirit and truth). Start every day with a purpose. Be responsible for your actions. Share yourself. And let those you know you love them.

The power of the kestrel is patience, concentration and precise action. Opportunities are recognized and acted upon at exactly the correct moment, we can learn from this. If kestrel flies into your life, it may be asking you to stimulate your mental powers and move speedily and smoothly into the future that you desire. Go with the flow, paying attention to the movement of every situation and be responsible for your actions.*

 

 

* Kestrel, Power Animal, Symbol of Speed and Grace By Ina Woolcott
http://www.shamanicjourney.com/article/6154/kestrel-power-animal-symbol-of-speed-and-grace

I found my "Lois" in Mabel.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010.

A normal day... 6am, go to the gym, 7:30am, back at home, make a latte, say bye to husband and get child up from bed. Or at least forcing myself into normalcy.

I head out to my studio (literally a few steps out of the house to the yard... yes, I do realize the glory of this) to begin my day. Onto work... email this person, print out that project to send off, update design, etc.... all normal.

Shortly after Noon, I receive a call on my work line. I answer. And I hear an elderly voice launch into, "Alice, this is Mabel. I'm calling to let you know I'm not coming over, I fell, so I'm just going to stay in." I immediately recognized the voice. Mabel has been calling me randomly for the last 3 years. Here's the strange part. Today was the first time that she ever called my work line. All previous times, she called the home phone line. The work and home phone numbers are completely different. But still, without thinking, I replied, "I'm sorry, but you have the wrong number." She stuttered, and said, "Oh, I'm sorry," and "click."

What just happened? Mabel called on my work line, how the heck did she know THAT number? Yes, in the past I was annoyed by her calls, but today, I felt different. And I couldn't figure out the phone swap. Then reality started to hit. Sometimes we do the stupidest things... why?... because you are on auto-pilot?... rushed to get to a deadline?... don't care?... blurring through life?... Thank goodness I let the little voices in my head whisper to me, "Did you hear that? She said she fell. Yeah, it's freaky that it's reminiscent to what happened the night of August 19, 2010 at The Swell Season Concert, but that was THAT night. This is TODAY. SNAP OUT OF IT. She said she fell. (Now all of you get a snippet of what my mind does, literally). So, I dialed *69, in hopes that I could get back to her. And I DID! I introduced myself over the phone and told her I just received a call from her... the wrong number person and was calling back to make sure she was not hurt. She replied that she was alright and appreciated the call. We exchanged a few more nice words. I find out she's 97 and lives at a nearby senior housing center. We said our good byes. "Click."

Back to work. Normalcy. Time check... Ack! Gotta get to the print shop to drop off a job and get a quote. Head out and do exactly that. All the while, I still am thinking of Mabel. Mabel. Mabel.

Get back to the studio: 2pm. Mabel. 2:13pm. Amazingly no calls since Mabel. I've decided. I want to meet her. I *69 her again. She answers. I re-introduce myself and tell her that I would love to meet her, and ask if she would be comfortable with this and if 4pm would work. She says yes. (I'm feeling it: I "CHOOSE" LOIS!)

3:30pm. Get Liam (child), stop at Lucky's to pick up a pretty potted fuscia plant (Liam picks it out) and we drive to meet Mabel. (Truth be told. I was freaked out! What if I get there, and they say there is no Mabel, or worse, she's dead. No joke, that probably would have given me every reason to "check myself in".) We arrive, walk into the center, find her door with her name plate on it, all lovingly decorated with family photos, cards, flowers, and patriotic ribbons. She is loved. We knock. Liam and I are holding hands and the potted fuscia plant. She opens the door. As corny as this may sound, she was a beam of love, warmth and light. We hugged immediately. Kindred spirits. She lets us in.

In our little half hour, we shared our backgrounds. Liam was well-behaved and Mabel approved. I couldn't get over at how youthful she was. Here's a woman who is almost a centurion, but was vivacious, open-minded, sharp as a tack, with positive disposition, and welcoming a stranger into her home. I asked her how it was she dialed my number and she showed me a listing of numbers of other residents there, one of which was her friend Alice. Alice's number was exactly matching my office line, with the exception of the last number, so that made sense in how she called me by chance today. But it didn't make sense in how she had been calling me for the last 3 years on my home phone. A completely different number. I told her this, and she seemed baffled as well. I told her that I had recently experienced something which had and still is affecting me deeply—to open up and do what my mind and heart says. And that was why I was there. She was very moved by that.

I don't know where this will go, as it JUST HAPPENED! But, I do know I've met someone special who I am going to get to know. Sunday, I plan on bringing her some pastries, and share more time with her. I'm really looking forward to it. I find it curious that the names "Lois" and Mabel" come from that same era of WWI generation, strong, simple but memorable women names.

As I end this entry. I will leave you with a few photos of Mabel and I (that Liam took).... and two more "universe/God/Buddha/pick-your-passion-theology" moments that grabbed my attention today. The first was at the gym. As a newbie at hitting the gym lately at 6am, let's just say that I am not altogether really awake, just rev'ing up. While on the treadmill.... my eyes kept wandering... tired at reading the captions on the TVs, but not really interested in lip reading the news reporters. Today, my eyes kept falling on part of a signage for the emergency defibrillator box directly in front of me on the wall, but settling only on 3 particular words: "Door is open!" And lastly... if you look really close (click on image) at Mabel's earrings... they are a luminous glow of glassine blue baubles.... perhaps not Paddington Bear blue, but moonlit-glow blue. 

I found my "Lois" in Mabel.

I choose Lois. What about you?

Life has a funny way of giving you a wake up call. It can happen in the most subtle and split-second manner, where most people would probably not "catch the moment". Or it can happen as loud as a bomb, rattling the very core of your world. Lucky for me (or unlucky, depending on how one might look at this), I'm one of those individuals who can for whatever reason, recognize the most miniscule to the most explosive moments where the universe/God/Buddha/pick-your-passion-theology perspective, says... "Ok Julia, lookie here, this is intended for you to learn from... so what are you gonna do with this experience?"

Last Thursday, August 19, 2010 my friends Julie, Rachelle, and I drove down to Saratoga, California to attend a very long-awaited concert at the Mountain Winery to see The Swell Season. Now, anyone who has a decent playlist on their iPhones/iPads/MP3 player would know who these amazing artists are, but another well known fact is the lead singers: Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová were in Once, a 2006 Irish musical (low budget/indie) film, that received a 2008 Academy Award for Best Original Song for the song "Falling Slowly". Yes, we are big fans and drove 1.5 hours to get there on a Thursday afternoon, taking the afternoon off from work to get dinner and an early start to the concert.

The lead up to the event couldn't have been more perfect. Beautiful warm day in Saratoga, California, early arrival to our destination at The Basin, our selected place to get drinks and dinner. We had 15 minutes until the restaurant would open when we heard someone yell... "Go across the street for some free wine and nibbles and say you are there for blah-dee-blah-dah...!"  And, yes, we did just that, crash a little wine tasting party. After tasting a lovely rosé, and posing as if we were truly guests, we scanned the tables for what nibbles could be grabbed. And I saw... pickels! Yum! Perfect! So we grabbed a few before saying our thank yous and headed to The Basin.

Last minute bar seating was scored as it was a full house due to the 2 concerts happening in the area, one of which we were attending. Cucumber martinis for Julie and Rachelle, and a Stella Artois for me, launched us into the perfect setup for "letting our hair down" and getting excited for the show. Dinner and then a surprise run-in with friends of Julie made for an even more pleasant experience at our eatery. (thought in my head... What a perfect night!)

Arriving at the winery was a site to be seen. Can we say GINORMOUS? The grounds to the estate were breathtaking and seemed to go on and on. Again, a perfect build up to the anticipated show. Car parked, bathroom break, more beer, seats found....we were ready. Balmy evening was cooling off quickly for a crisp summer night sky. Moon aglow, eerily bright, even for a half lunar phase. I made a curious mental check on how luminous it did look. Opening band done and at last... The Swell Season on stage! WAHOO!

A few sets into the show, Markéta disappeared and came back in a warmer attire. She went up to the mic and admitted, "This is my first EVER wardrobe change. I wanted to look cute for you but got so cold. I will remember this night forever!"  About two-thirds into the show Colm Mac Con Iomaire, Swell Season's violinist performed a hauntingly beautiful solo of a 300 year old folk song from his home town on the Western shores of Ireland. It seemed like not a soul took a breath while watching this lovely moment.  Please listen if you have the time.

 

The band returned to stage after, about to launch into their next song when someone from the audience yelled "Tell us about Lois!"... Well, we all were like, "Who's Lois?" Curiosity got the cat!

Glen Hansard, in his most endearing Irish accent and style of speech launched into a story. (note: I am going to do my best to recite what was stated/recounted, but because it's all from memory, an exact replay of how things were said might be off. I do think the gist of the way I will tell the story will remain truthful. I know repeating the story to myself, Julie and Rachelle, and close friends has helped to maintain consistency and integrity of what happened.) Glen continues to the audience on how 6-7 months ago he was in Chicago (a big "Wahoo!" escaped my lips as it is my hometown!) and just checked into a hotel and was heading out, riding the elevator down to go out into the cold Spring air. He noticed an older woman standing in front of him in the elevator who was wearing a very impressive, intensely blue, Paddington Bear style coat, covered from head to calf, with only the feathered gray strands of her hair escaping around her face and the tip of her nose showing. He said, "Well, that's a mighty fine coat you have on and it looks lovely on you." She turned around and looked at him and said, sternly, "Thank you. What's your name and what do you do?" He replied, I'm Glen Hansard, and I'm in a rock band called The Swell Season and we're performing in Chicago... just had a show in New York." She said, "I'm Lois. Never heard of you." He continues, "I was also in a movie called Once and in another Irish rock band called "The Frames". Lois, "Never heard of it or the movie." At this point, Glen admits that unless you are Bono or Jesus, no one will give a shit who you are. Everyone laughs.  Lois says, "This is my first time leaving my apartment in 2 years. I'm visiting my daughter who lives here in Chicago. I saw this coat in the window, and decided to buy it. I've never done anything like that before, so I just bought it."... she continues... "You know, I told my son not to go to that building." (Glen realizes and tells the audience she was referring to 9/11). "I had a funny feeling. He worked all weekend long and I called to tell him to stay home, that I had a funny feeling. Well, he didn't listen, and now he's dead." At this point Glen makes a statement at how remarkable a one-off chance of running into a stranger on an elevator can impress upon him an intensely deep and inspiring felt emotion that it was the source of inspiration for his next song. They exit the elevator and hotel, and as she grabs a cab, stops before closing the door and says to Glen, "That was a very nice thing you did back there. Telling me I looked good in this coat. You didn't have to do that but you did. Don't ever NOT say what's on your mind and heart. Live your life, LIVE YOUR LIFE", as she proceeded to close the cab's door and speed away. Glen faces us, the audience and says how often does something like that happen in a person's life? And he launches into "When Your Mind's Made Up", a gorgeous, impassioned song so powerful, and of course my favorite song. I've embedded it here, please watch.

The crowd was alive! Feeling the setup of Lois and the beauty of this song. Glen starts bantering about another humorous story, and then it happened. A body, landing 3 feet from him coming out of the sky. Is this a joke? Was it a technician who fell while clapping? Is he ok? What the F*CK is going on!?!? And then I heard a woman a few seats to my left saying how she saw this man jump onto the rooftop of the building behind the stage and took a running leap off, landing right on stage, between Glen and Colm. A hard, weighted, graphic fall. If I had left my iPhone's video on, I would surely have caught the impact.

MD's from the audience ran on stage, Glen's reaction is what still haunts me. He immediately put down his guitar and went up to the body, and then put his hands over his mouth and the whites of his eyes illuminated, like the glow of the moon. And panic. The band was quickly wisked off stage... and the audience... tears, cries, people hugging and making their way out of their seats. Julie, Rachelle and I were caught in the intensity of our eyes glued to it all. We couldn't have had the most perfect seats to see everything. And then I felt anger... deep anger at how selfish this person's choice in ending his life became my own and everyone else's reality. The staff asked us not to leave our seats so that paramedics could have access to the stage. After 20 minutes of CPR, I knew he was gone. The three of us eventually left our seats to walk around the perimeter of the grounds, with the rest of the audience.... some zombie like, some rattled to the core in tears, some nonchalant, and some, like me feeling anger. And then it hit me... my own connection to suicide and my brother's attempt when we were 19. I won't go into the details here, but he survived. He shouldn't have. He did... but the heart-ache and stress our family was put through over the reason he did it... is what triggered my anger.

No one was allowed out for 2 hours. Obviously the show ended. We found Julie's friends (from The Basin) and headed back to their car where their dog was happily waiting for them, Zaya, a French bull dog. Zaya's owner, Ben worked his magic of tasteful but raunchy humor that definitely helped to take the edge off the night. Of course, Zaya caught the eye of a woman parked near us who became embarrassingly silly, telling her boyfriend/husband how much she wanted a dog exactly like Zaya, but would call it "Pickels" (insert here: remember pickels from the winery party we crashed? Interesting connection, I thought).... Well, if you clicked on the link above to "it happened", the media soon found out that the jumper was named Michael Edward Pickels. A man who was facing charges of assault with a firearm, domestic violence and false imprisonment, recently released from jail on a $150,000 bail.

Was this a random act of violence and stupidity with the off chance that a certain number of people were there to witness something so horrific? Perhaps. Questions swirling in my head... What's the meaning between all these connections?, "Pickels", the moon, Markéta's comment about it being a night she will forever remember, Chicago (at least for me), Lois' message to speak your mind and LIVE your life, and MY song to be the chosen one?

Still processing, but what this experience has opened for me, at every core of my being is: I choose "Lois". What about you?

bye bye April... welcome May

Wow, I can actually see some empty spots on my desk (maybe because I had to clear for a make-shift ready area for an impromptu client meeting overlooking proofs yesterday (though I fear clutter will soon accumulate). Just finished my lunch of late, a cup of peach flavored kefir (at least I'm eating healthy.) --Note to self: CLEAN YOUR STUDIO!

Looking forward to those May sunny skies and opportunities to quiz my ability to read the markings of hawks by color and wing shape.

Thank you April for growing my own wings in so many ways....

we all fall... the precious few get rescued by others or by ourselves.

Sometimes it feels like life decides to throw everything at you, including the kitchen sink. This is when I wished I had the powers of Neo to raise my hand and stop it all!

This image kind sums up a lot with all that going on. So sweet is the story behind it. I'm hoping for the same ending for someone I know. (secret message: be like water)

(image from Cute Overload)

Swine Love

I'm feeling the need to support swines due to the outbreak of the latest bug. Last I read, Egypt announced it will slaughter 300,000 pigs to try and prevent/contain any risk or exposure.

Now I'm just saying, isn't this just another wake-up call for us, the people that drive this country/world economy (rotund bellies) for us to see what we are doing to our natural state of co-existence? We are really at that tipping point of catastrophic effects, and unfotunately, for those families that have lost relatives due to this outbreak, they are living in this fact. I am having an especially critical eye that ground zero is in Mexico, where a large pig farm is located. Why is it always a mega-economy like ours, taking advantage of a more vulnerable one (ala Mexico)?

(Photo courtesy of my friend Jon who posted it on his FaceBook page. Source: unkown)

Hitting Reset: Emily Haines

Am feeling the need for a soft reset myself these days. Saturday night, around 10:30pm, we had an unfortunate event take place right in front of our abode. A drunk driver slammed right into our parked car on the street, along with our neighbor's truck and young trident maple. Amazingly, none of the perpetrators were hurt. When I heard that slam and metal-on-street drag impact, my heart just sank with full terror. I was scared to think that the impact was on our home— was Oliver on the sofa hurt? what must our front wall look like?.... the reel was rolling through my mind as I made a mad dash out to the front of our home. I was out back in my studio catching up on work, but heard everything as if I was right on the spot. The quietness of the evening amplified the noise. When I ran outside to see, that's when I saw the suspect vehicle, up on the curb, inches away from the trident maple (I guess they tried reversing out back) and their front right tire missing. First thought: good, they can't get away. Of course as I was walking towards the car, Oliver was already out on the street (good, he and the house are ok). The 3 individuals started to disband, making a "run" from their abandoned vehicle. A neighbor yelled "Hey, where do you think you are going?", only to be met by silence. Our car had been pushed up onto the sidewalk, its left side gouged and crumpled. The thought occurred to me immediately, had it not been for our car to take the bigger impact, our neighbor's house, not ours, would have had no front wall. One of the suspects came back trying to retrieve something, and was (thankfully) snagged by the police. This offered little solace in knowing that they all didn't get away. In the meantime, we are picking up the pieces with insurance claims, adjuster, and preparing for the hunch that our car is totaled (Having paid it off only 4 months ago, this result really bites)!

The long and short is—a car is just a thing; you can be doing nothing, and still be impacted by the actions of others; but above all, stop to see yourself in your own life and acknowledge those that you care about and let them know with words AND actions. Our little Liam was awoken by the LOUD noise and of course wanted us to get him out of bed to see the commotion. Not what we intended, but there was no way to shield him from everything going on. This event definitely RESET my perspective on my own hectic pace of late. I think I need another one though that is a soft RESET. I think I just have the perfect idea......

(*update: car was totaled. Now we have to look into the process of getting a new car, and unfortunately, have a car payment once again. The most frustrating part is, we can't get a replacement Clean Air Sticker for a new car, as the state of California stopped issuing them. This allowed Oliver to drive the commuter lane to work, saving time on his 1.5 hours each way commute. Without it now, he is in some serious drag time on the road. Excuse my candor but, THIS REALLY SUCKS!)

(via swissmiss)