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diff --git a/posts/Hopping_Trains_Today.mdwn b/posts/Hopping_Trains_Today.mdwn
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+(Most of this is about autism and belonging and _not_ trians.)  Though I titled it "Hopping" I really just wasn't called in today to 'work on the railroad' rather than illegally riding freight trains.  So I thought I'd explain that.
+
+I spent tons of time today in a coffee shop because our car is still dead, the new car is not yet bought, and at least the coffee shop was on the right side of the train tracks, so I could be sure to get to the rail yard on time if I was called in.  But I was not called in, so I waited and waited and waited in the coffee shop and nearby until 7 or 8 hours later I gave up, went home, and found that I would not work today after all.  I guess this is the downside of this kind of work, but I am keeping optimistic.  This could still be a job for me to love.  I hope!
+
+I am a terrible eavesdropper, and I heard someone talking about a person who is autistic, and that happens to be what I am thinking about tonight.  (I also just watched this season of Atypical on Netflix.)
+
+The person was talking about autism, but my thoughts have nothing to do with that actual person or context.  It is entirely about me tonight.
+
+I am about 100 percent certain that I am somewhere on the autism spectrum, though its mental illness that I have actively been thinking about and treating my whole adult life.  I have self administered a few autism tests and I came up with high numbers every time.
+
+I never have talked to a medical professional about autism.  I wish I could bring myself to have time for that, but when I am with a doctor or therapist, I am trying to heal my diagnosed condition instead.  Questions come to mind that I wish I knew the answer, for sure.  An early question is I wonder the difference between being "on the spectrum" and being "autistic?"  A deeper question is, if I am autistic, am I doing things that are socially inept or wrong that I could/should/might benefit from learning not to do?
+
+Then I come around to the answer that has always kept me avoiding pursuing this too much farther.  I like me.  And I don't think it generally is healthy for me to try to avoid social ineptness.  That's because a huge part of my life is spent trying too hard to please others, being anxious about what others must think about what I have done, and not enough of my life has been about CLAIMING WHO I AM, BEING PROUD OF MY DIFFERENCES, and DEVELOPING CONFIDENCE IN MYSELF ESPECIALLY IF I THINK SOMEONE MIGHT BE UNCOMFORTABLE BECAUSE OF ME.  
+
+But I am reading "Belonging" by Toko pa Turner.  It is my new favorite book but not lightly.  It is the best book I ever have read.  And I hope it helps me figure out how to be more proud of who I am, no matter what.

diff --git a/posts/Counting_the_Long_Train_part_2.mdwn b/posts/Counting_the_Long_Train_part_2.mdwn
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+3 AM, a _different_ whistle collides with a 'dumb' alarm on a smart phone.  Did I hear every train last night?  My bed is a quick walk from the tracks and I think so.  I am preparing for work on the railroad, as I call my job transporting train crews.  I tell myself the first day of waking up at 3 is the hardest.  I really don't get called in until 12:40PM, but I am on call at 4A. 
+
+Hey!  There is another whistle.  Have a good trip, boys!  (And amazing woman?!)
+
+One week ago, I had no idea that there even were "train people."  Oblivious, I walked over the tracks, waited for the cars to pass in a car in Bristol TN or VA, or all over the place.  You'd reckon a person would _think_ about the crews running Freight Trains.  But, not me until a week ago.  I try not to admit that too much today. 
+
+In a flash, my last night's dream returns to me.  I am the conductor on my first day, and I am the wrong person for the job, completely unprepared, little ol' me!  Thank goodness that is not reality!
+
+I would love to talk of everything that happens today, but it is simply too many beautiful, rainy, intriguing moments.  Two formations of Canada geese intersecting pathways, the manual derailment of a slow moving single engine pulling one car, the myriad yards common folks like me never new existed, yards in places I thought I knew with entire islands of tracks and gravel, the uncertainty of the daily plan, the fact that today and Wednesday I am still in "train"ing.  :)
+
+At Wythville we pick up an engineer and conductor whose train derailed today, a terrible luck but alive, now our (bleary eyed) passengers.  What a duty we have.
+
+Like many, I used to say "it's the economy stupid" as a phrase to explain things.  But as we drove today, I started thinking that the ultimate driving force in our world is not the economy, it is hunger.  I was thinking about the infrastructure of the railroads and the highways and how I have been told they were built to go everywhere with military needs in mind.  Of course, it is the military industrial system, among systems, that everything "goes" for.  I don't know why today made me think about hunger.  (I did eat a ton of lasagna when I got home this evening.  But I don't think that is it.)  Really I think it is important to mention the reason for the economy though. 
+
+I guess why I am mentioning this is I sometimes have to justify my employment area.  Like, for ten or 20 years I refused to work for any corporation.  I worked for nonprofits, schools, individuals, small farmers, so forth.  Anyway, this is by no means my intended thesis, of my hopeful train memoir, but the need behind capitalism is real.  Call it hunger. 
+
+So when an engineer said something to us about "Jihad" it was super easy for me to turn the other cheek.  Actually, I have so much respect for these railroad workers, I just cannot explain it, and the drivers. 
+
+They are well aware that they are driving something vulnerable to danger, and bleary eyed from occasional derailing or long hours, it doesn't seem to me that I would do that particular job for any amount of money, but everyone uses at least something our freight trains deliver.  (I looked up on the Norfolk and Southern website earlier and confirmed this.)
+
+I write this to Tom Waits train music, to Bob Dylan, and Marley.
+
+This day has been incredible but it has been long.  So I bid adieu.  

diff --git a/posts/Every_Man_Should_be_a_Feminist.mdwn b/posts/Every_Man_Should_be_a_Feminist.mdwn
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+<br>If every man considered himself a feminist,</br>
+<br>every woman would be considered a sensible equal,</br>
+<br>every girl would allow herself to carry away on her wildest dreams,</br>
+<br>every boy would know to respect women and girls.</br>
+
+<br>I try to be specific but it becomes like a description of a foreign utopia.</br>
+<br>Descriptions become jagged statistical comparisons with our present.</br>
+
+<br>If all genders were paid equally,</br>
+<br>power would spread equally,</br>
+<br>leadership would be for actual leaders</br>
+<br>with merit based elections.</br>
+
+<br>There are male feminists today.</br>
+<br>It's why the world hasn't completely ended.</br>
+
+<br>May they learn to multiply.</br>

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diff --git a/posts/Train_Station_143.mdwn b/posts/Train_Station_143.mdwn
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+I go in to sign paperwork for a job opening at Station 143.  The job is as a shuttle driver, transporting railroad workers to and from home.  "Meet me at noon in the rail yard," says the voice on the phone.  I don't really know where I am bound exactly, but I walk from my home for a stretch of limbs.  Ten minutes after leaving my porch, I am crossing the tracks, following the railroad under the roof of the train station.  A car would go down hill then up hill again, but I figure the way I am heading, if I just follow the tracks I am bound to find the office.  Five, five line lizards scatter in the dry rocky terrain underfoot.  It feels wonderful to be walking.  I run through my mind the highlights of my personal narrative, my reasons for wanting the job.  Mostly I am just interested in the story of the railroad workers.  How do they feel on the train?  Is it exhilarating or a just huge responsibility?  
+
+As expected, the office awaits me.  I am ten minutes early, but one of the vans of the company I'd drive for rolls into the yard, so I approach the driver to ask him if this is the right place.  He says wait a couple minutes and the boss lady should show face.  Almost a heartbeat later, she rolls in in a black car.  She hands me a packet of paperwork through the window.  Drug test, background check, extensive application.  The boss says I can go in the building and sit to fill it out.  Inside, I interrupt a lively conversation to ask if there is a seat.  It's a thrill to go in and feel the bustle of the office, with all the crew members talking about the train they then boarded.  I am filling out forms, but glance up at the workers.  They are all men except one woman who enters saying it is good to not be on a train.  Two men discuss the "tonnage" of the train in the yard.  
+
+I feel I am somewhere entirely different, something of the trains of Harry Potter, how stepping into one of them can pull you out of the human world directly into a fantasy.  Finishing up my papers, I am a bit self absorbed, and fail to notice the trickle of workers leaving the office, until the sudden moment of absolute quiet, when it is just the boss and me left behind.  We are finishing things up, and she photocopies my identification, so it is not until I am standing outside the building that it becomes clear to me, the screaming sound of the train on the tracks, I see that all those people have pulled away to some Southern destination.  I follow beside the train, as I head back homeward.  Probably the same lizards scatter.   
+
+3AM the whistle blows again.

diff --git a/posts/Creative_Economy.mdwn b/posts/Creative_Economy.mdwn
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+Everyone is born with the potential for creative genius, to be a creative genius.  There are writers, inventors, artists, gardening, computer developers, designers, humorists, culinary artists, musicians, play writers, actors, dancers, crafter makers, many other imaginable kinds, and the unborn.  Those whose great potential has not yet been tapped into, who don’t yet have confidence or belief that they have a creative bone in their bodies are called the unborn.  Their skill is most necessary.  
+
+Everyone is born with the ability to earn income from their creativity.  Together we could make up the creative economy.   Our world could be about something more.  The very word "more" could have a quality to it, rather than sheerly being quantitative.  Creating is one way to heal the Earth's ailments.  Creativity is perhaps the best therapy, redirection of material oriented desire, and creativity is positive and constructive.  As creatives we should build off of the ideas our friends have, instead of inventing wars over whose is the smartest.  
+
+Inventive thinking admits humility first off, so that as swiftly as possible, the next person can suggest to build and grow our instinctual idea.  This is what creative people call brainstorming.   Creators pay each other just to sit together thinking out loud about cumulative projects.  Human suffering and environmental demise reduces in part, as a course of natural action.  
+
+The capitalist model has it all wrong, because Earth resources are finite and money is seen as infinite though based on oil, food, raw material goods.  Creative economy thinks about improving whole Earth.  Creative economy aims for wealth of Earth, so human gardening is one part of creative economy.  
+
+Fresh water currently runs low.  Ultimate goals of creative economy aim at refreshing aquifers, ending corporate ownership of watersheds, and keeping water clean.  These are early thoughts.  Humility admits all thoughts are early thoughts, as these are.  Onward and upward, creative economy grows.

diff --git a/posts/Me_at_18_to_the_tune_of_The_Office.mdwn b/posts/Me_at_18_to_the_tune_of_The_Office.mdwn
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+Me at 18 to the tune of The Office
+A Comedy
+by Maggie Hess
+
+Prelude
+
+Friend from back home (1): It wasn’t like she was crazy or something.
+
+Friend (2): She always was a little different but aren’t we all.
+
+Friend (3): I just remember her being excited about moving to the city. But it was because she said she was imaging ghosts.
+
+Friend (1): She had a really big heart, you see.
+
+Friend (2): She was like any one of us.
+
+Friend (3): But we all swam in the river so much after the toxic spill.
+
+
+
+ACT I
+Poppy’s Hotel
+
+Minga has been staring at Manny for a long period of time, across the staff meal table while he Manny reads the paper.
+
+Manny: So Minga, have you explored the city much since being here.
+
+Minga: Oh come on! You cannot fool me!
+
+Manny: I am not trying to fool you in any way. I frankly don’t know what you mean by that. I just thought since you are in the city you might want to get out.
+
+Minga: This city was founded hundreds of years ago. There is a map on the wall. You can’t convince me I could discover a new district.
+
+In walks the hotel manager..
+
+Minga: Hey Poppy.
+
+Manny: (sitting up taller) Hey boss.
+
+Poppy: Don’t call me boss.
+
+Manny: Yes sir.
+
+Poppy: Don’t call me sir.
+
+Minga giggles.
+
+Manny: Oh, yes Mr. Hersh.
+
+Poppy: You know you can call me Alfredo, don’t you Manny? (exits through the door to the staff kitchen where the comanager Mr Primavero is cooking.)
+
+Mr Primavero: You harassing the new intern?
+
+Poppy: Me? (chuckling)
+
+Minga: (reads the reverse side of the newspaper that Manny is holding)
+
+Manny: So you just got back from Mexico right?
+
+Minga: Don’t play stupid.
+
+Manny: Really, Minga. I am trying to be your friend. I promise I think you are nothing but cool. I really had heard you were in Mexico like last week. That’s why I asked.
+
+Minga: I was in the mental hospital.
+
+Manny: (mouth drops and pushes up newspaper so she doesn’t see his expression) Oh sorry.
+
+Minga: You don’t have to be all weird about it. The doctor says if I take my medicines I will stop having the visions. (But cries a little.)
+
+Poppy: (comes quickly in) Are you upsetting my daughter?
+
+Manny: No sir. I didn’t mean to sir.
+
+Poppy: Don’t call me sir!
+
+Manny: Yes, boss. (ahem) Mr. Hersh. (ahem) Alfredo.
+
+Poppy: Did he? (to Minga)
+
+Minga: What, Poppy?
+
+Poppy: Nevermind bumpseedoo.
+
+In walks Alfredo with a pile of boiled Artichokes.
+
+Primavero: What in the world is new?
+
+Manny:  There’s an Flaming Lips concert tomorrow night.
+
+Primavero:  Good luck collecting the change for that!
+
+Minga:  I wanted to go.
+
+Poppy:  My little girl wants to go?  I’ll be sure to get some tickets for us.
+
+Minga:  I will go if Manny comes.
+
+Poppy:  I thought you wanted to go?
+
+Minga:  I do.  But Manny has to come too.  That’s okay isn’t it Poppy?
+
+Poppy:  I don’t know.  I’d have to chaperone.  
+
+Manny:  ahem
+
+Primavero:  Then it’s settled.  Hope you three have a wonderful time.  
+
+Manny:  (gets up and leaves the room in a huff)
+
+Poppy:  (calls after Manny)  You like your job, don’t you, Manny?
+
+Manny:  Yes, sir, Mr. Hersh, Alfredo, that is.
+
+Minga:  Are you hiring another intern, Poppy?
+
+Poppy:  We are, yes.
+
+Minga:  I would like to try for the job.
+
+Primavero:  That might be a conflict of interest.
+
+Minga:  What is that?
+
+Poppy:  Don’t mind him.  I don’t think it should be a problem, honey.  You are so much brighter than most young people, Minga.  
+
+Primavero:  We are really going to have to agree on this Alfredo.
+
+Poppy:  You’re hired, Minga.  You can start tomorrow morning.
+
+Minga:  But I saw that Manny is working the night shift.
+
+Poppy:  Right.  And that means you will work the day shift.
+
+Minga:  But I’d never see him that way.  
+
+Primavero:  You know what Minga, you are hired!

diff --git a/posts/Cold_enough_.mdwn b/posts/Cold_enough_.mdwn
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+<br>Water cold enough to cool us down</br>
+<br>we idly floating passers by</br>
+<br>bobbing gently to the sound</br>
+<br>a warm perspective gained beneath her sky.</br>
+
+[[!img DSCF3052.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF3053.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF3061.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
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+[[!img DSCF3076.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF3077.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF3079.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
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+[[!img DSCF3090.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]
+[[!img DSCF3091.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/What_a_Miraculous_Day__44___Floating_Down_the_Clinch.mdwn b/posts/What_a_Miraculous_Day__44___Floating_Down_the_Clinch.mdwn
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+Yes, slow was the theme today, floating down the Clinch River with 4 family members, 3 inner tubes and a canoe.  We decided to go the short stretch which meant, 2 miles, instead of up to 8.  We imagined it would take 2 hours, but not with tubes!  It took 4.5 hours because our tushes were dragging in the water, or in my case, I swam a lot of it, and others did too. 
+
+Wildlife spotting:  one small snapping turtle, two great blue herons, neighboring birds, tons of rare freshwater mussels, minnows, bigger jumping fish, nesting habitat for swallows under Kyle Ford's bridge, and mystical wafting, water grasses.
+
+At one point, my sister Dani and I were swimming towards the end of the group, holding our inner tubes, and Dani decided she didn't want to get so close to the slithering creatures lurking in the water grasses.  She went to the bank to maneuver her bottom into the tube.  But I chose the grasses, deeming them magical.  I lowered my glasses lenses into the water, and watched the grasses swim and dance next to me.  
+
+This day was the most magic I have had in a long time.  We even ran into old also out of town friends at the store/ meeting place.  On the ride home, Mom and I drove under a rainbow that had all the colors and even was a double rainbow in parts for over a half hour without ceasing.  
+
+When I got back to the house, my jaw dropped.  There was another rainbow of sorts.  In my mailbox, an EARLY _birthday card_ to me from Daddy and Barbara.  Remarkable and I'm not going to say why!  
+
+I am so thankful for this day, because of Joey who threw it together, because of Dani and Richard who paid for it, for Anna and Mark who funded the car rental, and because of Mom, because Labor Day wouldn't be a day without Moms.  (At least not for me it wouldn't.)  

diff --git a/posts/Beat_Harder.mdwn b/posts/Beat_Harder.mdwn
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+In the lap lanes, 
+
+I remember the sweet sound a swim coach makes
+
+deep in my inner world
+
+I am screaming at me
+
+kick harder
+
+pull harder
+
+this is a work out
+
+not a lazy out!  
+
+I conclude my swim with a decision
+
+I will keep on
+
+when the lengths have seemed to end
+
+push harder when my body starts to lax
+
+I will remind my heart
+
+teach my heart to beat harder
+
+so it has a memory of this strength
+
+tomorrow and tomorrow's tomorrows.  

diff --git a/posts/Self_Love_is_the_Ultimate_God.mdwn b/posts/Self_Love_is_the_Ultimate_God.mdwn
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+<br>Roots reaching</br>
+<br>into the mystery</br>
+<br>in all directions</br>
+<br>touching stars</br>
+<br>caressing sand</br>
+<br>feeling God.</br>
+
+Will you be alone with me a little longer whispers the Robin to the Wren?

diff --git a/posts/Lonesome_Phase.mdwn b/posts/Lonesome_Phase.mdwn
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+I think I am in a lonesome phase. 
+
+I think I am in a mood that needs to feel the yin and yang in one being.  In me.  In who I am, just me. 
+
+I am the person who makes me whole.

diff --git a/posts/All_I_want_for_my_birthday_is_marigolds_and.mdwn b/posts/All_I_want_for_my_birthday_is_marigolds_and.mdwn
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+I might be wrong about this.  My will might not be strong enough, or I might have accidentally not deleted facebook and it might be waylaid in the cyber universe waiting for godot.  But I think that I committed full on facebook suicide.  For the many seniors reading this, that means that I deleted the accounts not whatever else you might have read into this, Mom.  I am quizzical about keeping a blog, since I generally am tired of people in the broad public thinking they know what the heck is going on with me when they don't.  But I also like the blog for reasons like I get to declare my birthday is coming up and hope that marigolds come my way.  PS  Anna, Adventures in Public School on Netflix might rejuvenate your belief in teen movies.  It did for me.

diff --git a/posts/Beauty_Itself_calling_Walden_Effect.mdwn b/posts/Beauty_Itself_calling_Walden_Effect.mdwn
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+​It seems it is an ever-present component of my life, the need for privacy in terms of how I express myself publicly, like on facebook or blog, and how acquaintances respond to that.  I never have really known how your blog life intersects with your personal correspondences.  When you meet new people there in Ohio does some of their knowledge of you rest on the hinges of your blog?  How do you feel comfortable with people knowing so much about you and your life?  (From the fact that you have tried standing urination to goodness knows what else?)  It has always been a hard subject for me personally to balance what to share publicly and to consider any words I say openly for the Whole world to know.  I just ask you because it is something I think about, and know you must have shared experiences.  Sometimes I start to get to know people and I find out they have read some of my stuff.  It always impacts how we relate.  Sometimes they address it openly, my preference.  Other times they skirt around the fact that they know something I sometimes even forget I have shared.  My blog is akin to a diary.  I am honest about that with the public and myself.  But I don't exactly have a itemized list of all the subject matter I have covered in there.  One time I met someone in the woods who had read my blog, your blog, and Joey's blog and seemed to know more about some of it than I did.  And he was brandishing a knife and seemed a bit high, so that was kind of intimidating.   Other times people seem to be trying to encourage me, but not entirely willing to try pure honest admission that they have read my blog. 
+
+Come to think of it, I am going to alter this and share it on my blog.  Ironic as can be.  Let me know what you think tho!

diff --git a/posts/The_Spirit_Crawls_into_a_Peach_-_by_Accident.mdwn b/posts/The_Spirit_Crawls_into_a_Peach_-_by_Accident.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/The_Spirit_Crawls_into_a_Peach_-_by_Accident.mdwn
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+<br>The spirit of life crawls into a peach - by accident;</br>
+<br>the poet pushes hard on her pen but a song trills out instead;</br>
+<br>the hit man hiding in the alley knifes the disguised king by mistake;</br>
+<br>the thumb of an old man grows on a gnarled branch.</br>
+
+<br>Goddess dances in Cancun tonight, high on the high tide of love;</br>
+<br>Zeus was to fill in at the wheel of fate checked into an old folks home;</br>
+<br>therapist ask why;</br>
+<br>while the first vagabond with the shopping cart takes command.</br>
+
+<br>This is the sermon on the desk top:</br>
+<br>don't listen to anyone - me especially.</br>
+<br>Make your own decisions!</br>
+<br>Teachers know less than students - forgetting they don't know.</br>
+
+<br>Soon this world will be owned by a chaos of insects.</br>
+<br>What horrors will come before who knows?</br>
+<br>Can you harness a single memory of gladness?</br>
+<br>Why waste a day reading poems?</br>

diff --git a/posts/Finding_Beauty_in_a_Fallen_Tree.mdwn b/posts/Finding_Beauty_in_a_Fallen_Tree.mdwn
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+A tree fell at Abrams Falls Road, hitting other trees, pulling down smells to my nostrils that had been captured in the single file order.  A couple days ago, I walked my dogs out on that road and thought about how it must have been when the trees came tumbling down.  Probably the hemlock was the first to snap, and it tore off a piece of the Tulip Poplar and a portion of the bank.  
+
+Leonard Koren said wabi-sabi is an uncharacteristic feature of Japanese beauty close to the English word “rustic” with a definition “simple, artless, and unsophisticated or earthy, and unpretentious.  Broken down, sabi means withered and wabi refers to the misery of living alone in nature away from society and suggests discouraged, dispirited emotional state.  Today wabi means sabi in Japanese and visa versa. 
+
+I seem to have strong opinions about wabi sabi.  People seem to want to apply it to often to human terms.  I find wabi sabi in nature, like the scene at Abrams, where things constantly are changing and taking changed forms.  Also discussing imperfection people often say things like "you have a beautiful crookedness to your smile.  See even without braces you have a wabi sabi imperfection to your smile."  To me that is misusing the expression entirely.  It's as if they still aspire to be conventionally beautiful, and they read Cosmo magazine, but since they are not perfect by those terms, they are like "I still love you even though you are not perfect."  
+
+That is not wabi sabi.   Wabi sabi is most applicable to natural things because most human traits are to entangled with these standards of what is thought of as generally beautiful.  When you start talking about perfect traits with humans it becomes an impossible cycle, a catch 22, a loop that never makes sense.  Even if you say "I love the imperfect trait of yours" you still are allowing perfection, this outside system of beauty description to overrun your analysis of the beauty.  
+
+That is why I stick with death and decay in the natural world as my wabi sabi beauty.  To each their own tho.
+
+Ode to all of the sounds that our water makes, though I cannot help that I feel alone.  But is a drop ever alone?  It might seem like a million years of confinement, but falling from the sky might be the best thing that ever happened to me.  When water is dropping from the sky, it sings a mute song.  The pedestrian walking home on the Abrams Trail with a skip in her stride sees the rain coming, the layered sheets that always seem to come in her way.  
+
+Maybe one human alone in nature gets to be wabi sabi in my world.  
+
+The canopy should not be overlooked.  You can scour it for toddler scooters, mated shoes, random chairs, twenty feet up, perfectly placed.  You are reminded of how small you are and how blind you are in the large scheme, the mystery.    Then it's the last houses, the tumbling rocks behind your car.
+
+Visiting often, you remember the water, the foamy days, the murk after rain, the typical but excited cry of the kingfisher swooping the length of that little bridge. 
+
+It takes much longer to know every tree.  A tree falls in the forest, toppling partially onto another tree.  Roots again, clinging and sucking still for life.  In fact knowing every tree is an impossible task, for someone sticks their head in the badger's hole or fish flow on constantly.  
+
+The only way to snap a picture or memorize a wooded acres is knowing its impossible to capture anything.  I challenge you to catch a launching flock of turkeys, then show me the flock somewhere.  What was will never be again, by nature all things decay and move on. 

diff --git a/posts/Watermellon_Spitting_Contest.mdwn b/posts/Watermellon_Spitting_Contest.mdwn
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+Me:  I have been so depressed.  I don't think I will ever feel normal.  It's making me feel horrible.  I missed my medicine and remembered it in time for it to not affect anything but Dani recommended I treat it like any medical condition and get a medical alert bracelet because I think I would completely go insane if I went a week off meds.  But now I just feel so horrible about having to wear the bracelet.
+
+Daddy:  I have emotional problems of my own.  In fact I have to get a bracelet of my own, but it will say DNR.  
+
+Moral of the story:  Don't get in a watermelon seed spitting self pity contests with elderly parents.  They win every time.

diff --git a/posts/Iron_Weed_Lady.mdwn b/posts/Iron_Weed_Lady.mdwn
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+<br>It happens in a surprising instant</br>
+<br>the woman with the purple dress</br>
+<br>passing the iron weed</br>
+<br>notices its almost matching hue</br>
+<br>and for just about five seconds</br>
+<br>she pauses</br>
+<br>like the gap</br> 
+<br>between a mediative breath</br>
+<br>that little place</br> 
+<br>on the soul of the foot</br>
+<br>that passes gradually</br> 
+<br>into the Earth.</br>
+
+<br>Then like a heaving sigh</br>
+<br>she finds her footing</br> 
+<br>down the hill</br>
+<br>where time has caught up with her</br>
+<br>and she is no longer</br>
+<br>a girl</br>
+<br>but worn and wrinkled</br>
+<br>in the garments</br>
+<br>of tomorrow.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Secret_World.mdwn b/posts/Secret_World.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/Secret_World.mdwn
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+The drippy faucet
+
+holds back full sentences
+
+guarded against plumbers.
+
+
+Full moon men
+
+are all the same
+
+cursing my flow
+
+yet quenched by me.
+
+
+Maybe the day will come
+
+when nix the metaphors
+
+of plumb. 

diff --git a/posts/Choose_the_Tattered_Boquet.mdwn b/posts/Choose_the_Tattered_Boquet.mdwn
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+Late fall
+
+tired flowers with mute smiles
+
+as petals drop.

diff --git a/posts/We_are_the_tenth_goose....mdwn b/posts/We_are_the_tenth_goose....mdwn
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+++ b/posts/We_are_the_tenth_goose....mdwn
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+We are wabi sabi truth
+
+We are the beauty
+
+of decaying natural things
+
+we are impermanent
+
+our youth fades
+
+we grow older
+
+we cannot move as easy
+
+some prefer not to think about getting older,
+
+aging or imperfections we have
+
+that send us to therapy
+
+yet we are the tenth goose
+
+yet we grow older
+
+yet we waste away
+
+we lose our potential
+
+we become fallow weeds
+
+once sought after wildflowers
+
+but it doesn't have to be that way
+
+why?
+
+how?
+
+what does this mean?

diff --git a/posts/If_you_are_reading_this__44___be_there_with_yourself_a_while....mdwn b/posts/If_you_are_reading_this__44___be_there_with_yourself_a_while....mdwn
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+I was writing to my Friend, Pat, who used to attend the same Quaker Meeting as I went to in college.  I said to her "I need to be there for myself as a Friend sometime"  then added "like tonight".  
+
+Some people say they are intimidated by the idea of becoming Quakers, like Quakers might hold them to a higher level than they would hold themselves.  
+
+Personally I don't know a lot of Quakers in the Tricities.  Not people who want to worship this way.  I have been going to a fantastic meditation group and getting a ton out of it.  
+
+I do not have a regular meditation practice in my life.  I need one, and I hope that this is my first day of a real pattern of new honoring of self.  But all I can be sure of is this moment.  
+
+Tonight I plan to pray, off computer, off phone.  I will have the my eyes open to the world some so I know what time it is.  I will be with myself an hour.  I will be there for myself as a Friend for one hour tonight.  
+
+I invite you to be there for you too.  And we will go forward from there.

diff --git a/posts/mono_no_aware_beauty.mdwn b/posts/mono_no_aware_beauty.mdwn
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+<br>William Carlos Williams wrote his poem</br>
+<br>About the red wheelbarrow</br>
+<br>On a prescription medical pad.</br>
+
+<br>Give me an old tattered scroll</br>
+<br>or the dirty wall of a tunnel</br>
+<br>or threads that I can weave into words.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Appalachian_Ocean.mdwn b/posts/Appalachian_Ocean.mdwn
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+<br>Today the ocean visits my mountains.</br>
+<br>I sit outside the library,</br>
+<br>Knowing that the brick walk could be sun crusted sand,</br>
+<br>The puddles of freshly fallen rain could be</br>
+<br>pools of water,</br>
+<br>the maple leaves floating here</br>
+<br>could be sea weed.</br>
+<br>My bench is a boat, and swaying in the rocking sea</br>
+<br>It is the gusty wind that both</br>
+<br>Connects me to the ocean, so far away,</br>
+<br>And reminds me of where I am today.</br>
+
+
+1/29/06

Added a comment: Wow, Thank you Anna!!
diff --git a/posts/Bookstand_at_Frog_Level/comment_2_a6ef40aed961122aba02dfa8c94d8338._comment b/posts/Bookstand_at_Frog_Level/comment_2_a6ef40aed961122aba02dfa8c94d8338._comment
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+[[!comment format=mdwn
+ username="maggiemargarethess@78015320cd96dc052b86f45ba7a77ac2c0aaa5a7"
+ nickname="maggiemargarethess"
+ avatar="http://cdn.libravatar.org/avatar/61b9ea3a9064e12dbcc6ed88724c1640"
+ subject="Wow, Thank you Anna!!"
+ date="2018-08-07T02:00:35Z"
+ content="""
+I always appreciate your kind words about my poetry.  Glad you approve of my use of Mom's head as a vehicle for creativity.  :)
+"""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Noticing_Airplanes.mdwn b/posts/Noticing_Airplanes.mdwn
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+I like to go outside without a phone for many reasons, but detaching from the clock is a big part of it.  Then, last week, I began noticing different airplanes that cross overhead at established times, going in various directions, pin pointing mental times to go with each.  Sometimes I sit on the front porch between 3 and 3:15 PM and a plane flies from the Northeast on in the direction of the airport, I imagine.  But maybe it is going further.  I don't know.  I would be fascinated to learn of this world just miles above us.  But I am not dying to know all about airplanes.  It just fascinates me to think that there are these people with phones in airplane mode perhaps, sitting in that bulky metal jet, hurdling over me.  They're going to Chicago.  They're going to Lexington.  They're going to New York City.  And it would be neat to know the schedule of the planes flying above me.  I might try to memorize it if I saw it so I could write poems that read, "3:15PM, I sit on the front porch waiting for the airplane to pass above on its way to Charlotte."  But I don't need to write with information.  Sometimes I am happy that my poems and thoughts are just contemplations on my imaginings of life.  So I take the few things that I do know about airplanes.  I know that plane passes in that direction every day around 3:15. 

diff --git a/posts/Appalachian_Rainforest.mdwn b/posts/Appalachian_Rainforest.mdwn
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+<br>Today the South drips like a tropical rainforest</br>
+<br>The water kinks up hair like roots of a vine-tree</br>
+<br>Our squirrels, with no written doctrine to conserve the land,</br>
+<br>Dig holes and plant acorns.</br>
+<br>People can only imagine why.</br>
+<br>So that we do not curse our beneficiaries,</br>
+<br>In a world where life depends on rain</br>
+<br>Let the rain drip, if only</br>
+<br>To moisten the Earth</br>
+<br>So more life can grow.</br>
+
+1/23/06

Added a comment
diff --git a/posts/Bookstand_at_Frog_Level/comment_1_6eabd17b73d768cd4c7c2c172fcf5c7c._comment b/posts/Bookstand_at_Frog_Level/comment_1_6eabd17b73d768cd4c7c2c172fcf5c7c._comment
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+[[!comment format=mdwn
+ username="Anna"
+ avatar="http://cdn.libravatar.org/avatar/d5b69064a44ce4ff049393141d328632"
+ subject="comment 1"
+ date="2018-08-06T11:13:54Z"
+ content="""
+I love this poem! Especially the tadpoles swimming in Mom's head.
+"""]]

diff --git a/posts/Earth_Momma__39__s_Defense.mdwn b/posts/Earth_Momma__39__s_Defense.mdwn
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+<br>Don't look twice because I am taller and stronger</br>
+<br>As I plow through the field with the power of a Woman</br>
+<br>Digging potatoes for my seven children, husband, and aging father.</br>
+<br>If it rains, don't come to tell me my feet are clods of mud.</br>
+<br>Don't you think I know that?</br>
+<br>Don't you think I like that feeling of Earth?</br>
+<br>A Woman as strong as me can take anything.</br>
+<br>Anything</br>
+<br>I fork out thirteen bushels a day.</br>
+<br>I tell you before I met my husband, I would have chosen</br>
+<br>To marry the Earth, instead.</br>
+<br>So I waited, until one day, when the sun was going down,</br>
+<br>And I was absentmindedly watching a moth fly off towards the moon,</br>
+<br>And I smelled something better than bacon in the morning.</br>
+<br>You think I'm a vegetarian?</br>
+<br>Honey, just because I look like your Momma</br>
+<br>Does not mean I'm easy.</br>
+
+1/20/06

diff --git a/posts/Bookstand_at_Frog_Level.mdwn b/posts/Bookstand_at_Frog_Level.mdwn
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+<br>Joey said a tree frog had camped out on his rain barrel</br>
+<br>before he went to the beach that still was there</br>
+<br>when he returned.  I bent over noticing</br>
+<br>she must have been laying eggs all the while.</br>
+
+<br>Mom comes with books,</br>
+<br>a Field Guide to Fossils, Ape Man,</br>
+<br>several bottled in her head</br>
+<br>like the tadpoles swimming towards that tiny hole.</br>
+
+<br>Maybe it will rain and rain</br>
+<br>and when they grow bigger the frogs will hop out</br>
+<br>in a single file line</br>
+<br>and maybe, just maybe Mom will write a book.</br>
+

diff --git a/posts/Painted_Father.mdwn b/posts/Painted_Father.mdwn
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+<br>I am painting a picture</br>
+<br>of a man who looks like my father.</br>
+<br>But I cant get it perfect.</br>
+<br>Sometimes I think Ill give up</br>
+<br>And then my stroke is truthful.</br>
+<br>When I concentrate too hard</br>
+<br>I slip and practically spill</br>
+<br>the water on the canvas.</br>
+<br>Time always changes a watercolor.</br>
+<br>Especially in that early period</br>
+<br>between wet and dry.</br>
+<br>In the back of my mind</br>
+<br>my own history of art teachers</br>
+<br>tells me to leave the</br>
+<br>white be, to use my time wisely,</br>
+<br>never to throw away</br>
+<br>or give up on</br>
+<br>a piece of art.</br>
+<br>I enjoy painting,</br>
+<br>but something tells me</br>
+<br>the finished product shall</br>
+<br>be equally worthwhile.</br>
+<br>Something in my own gut</br>
+<br>tells me never to sell</br>
+<br>a masterpiece classic.</br>
+<br>Just to drop to my</br>
+<br>knees, and hope it</br>
+<br>comes out OK.</br>
+
+12/7/05
+
+[[!img 14.happyface.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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+The miracle is here.  I found a good therapist with an office very very near where I live.  I allowed the great question of miracle therapy to open a door to me.  I think I will go out the door, build a swinging bridge...
+[[!img swing.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+to a world of dream vision quests to live and lead.  
+[[!img bridgeover.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+So I have been asking the question Elizabeth Vega asked when we went to Berea together.  Does this mean I am on the verge of transformative growth?  Likely.  Vega went on to do some of the most amazing important work I have ever heard of anyone doing.  And I am asking her question, of my own accord.  I am so eager to know my answer, and to spread the question to help others grow.
+Then I go to my first therapy appointment and learn that this question asked as part of therapy is an actually technique called miracle therapy.  Wowzers!  
+
+So what would you do if you could do anything in the world without limits?  
+
+I can't want to explore our answers!  
+

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diff --git a/posts/The_Gardener.mdwn b/posts/The_Gardener.mdwn
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+<br>The girl in the garden, is not just a girl.</br>
+<br>As she covers newspaper with mulch, she wonders.</br>
+<br>What am I?</br>
+<br>I massaged my friend, and my friend liked it.</br>
+<br>Perhaps I will go into massage.</br>
+<br>She extends the rake into the truck bed,</br>
+<br>And takes a pile of warm, smelly wood chips.</br>
+<br>The chips are brownish black.</br>
+<br>Maggie sneaks her fingers into the mulch, loving the smell.</br>
+<br>Her back and her neck hurt a bit.</br>
+<br>She has heeled others, but not herself.</br>
+<br>Fifth grade, Mrs. Godsey told her she could write well.</br>
+<br>On a sixth grade level if she tried.</br>
+<br>I may be a writer, she considered.</br>
+<br>What am I?</br>
+<br>Covering the headlines with brown chunks.</br>
+<br>The mail man and the cat distract me.</br>
+<br>The mailman and the cat have a place.</br>
+<br>But me?</br>
+<br>Even the weeds that I pluck will soon have a place in the compost.</br>
+<br>But me?</br>
+<br>Maggie paused, somewhere between the earth and the sky.</br>
+<br>In revelation:</br>
+<br>I embrace my simplicity.</br>
+<br>If nothing else.</br>
+<br>Today, now, here, I am a gardener.</br>
+ 
+ 
+ 
+6/14/06

Revert "removed"
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diff --git a/index.mdwn b/index.mdwn
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+++ b/index.mdwn
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-Sowing my Wild Oats - Test
+[[!if test="enabled(sidebar)" then="""
+[[!sidebar]]
+""" else="""
+[[!inline pages=sidebar raw=yes]]
+"""]]
+
+[[!inline pages="page(./posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show="10"
+actions=yes rootpage="posts"]]

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+Sowing my Wild Oats - Test

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-[[!if test="enabled(sidebar)" then="""
-[[!sidebar]]
-""" else="""
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-"""]]
-
-[[!inline pages="page(./posts/*) and !*/Discussion" show="10"
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diff --git a/posts/Scissors_or_Glue.mdwn b/posts/Scissors_or_Glue.mdwn
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+I think I figured a few things out just in filling out a therapist intake form just a little bit ago.  And these things are so pivotal and instrumental to my life.  I am kinda blown away.  
+
+The form asked 3 questions back to back.  
+
+Did your parents divorce?  When you were what age?
+(Yes, 18)
+
+Did your family suffer incredibly from an illness?  When you were what age?  (Yes, 17 - me being the ill person.)
+
+Did your family suffer a death?  When you were at what age?
+(yes, all my grandparents, but very importantly, Mom's Mom, 17)
+
+My old conclusion was that my family somehow was ripped apart partially because of my illness.  But my new walkaway is other major things were happening right then.  What if my illness was somehow the thing that binded us all?  
+
+Maybe I am the glue!

diff --git a/posts/New_Moon_Mohawk.mdwn b/posts/New_Moon_Mohawk.mdwn
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+Open up your computers, class.
+
+Be certain not to go first to any internet locations.
+
+No websites, facebook, or email.
+
+Do you know what you are here without them?
+
+--
+
+Backyard tangle of ropes webbed together,
+
+inside of them a garden.
+
+Mother’s gone mad.
+
+Go find her. Tell her she’s no spider!
+
+--
+
+Some other woman is cutting her own hair.
+
+New moon mohawk, a bit messy.
+
+Not for some guy this time.
+
+Then she goes for the second side, not for some woman.
+
+--
+
+Class, this is the tradition called contemplative writing.
+
+It’s something different for each of us.
+
+You don’t have to show these to anyone.
+
+Write down a secret.
+
+--
+
+What is that in between those onions and the fig tree?
+
+A deer? A fawn all by itself?
+
+How could it get inside there?
+
+Let’s help it out, quick but not to startle it.
+
+
+
+[[!img DSCF2829.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Painting_Vs_Picture.mdwn b/posts/Painting_Vs_Picture.mdwn
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+The worst stages of my early mental illness were a dream I could not wake from, a painted reality that means so much about the actual world.  Painting the picture, experiencing the psychosis, can unveil truths that couldn't be exposed in the land of normal.  
+[[!img m.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+Last night, I dreamed I was tent camping on the beach on the ocean side of the dunes.  Someone was shaking my tent, so I woke up within the dream, thanking this person who made me realize the water was washing up to me and my tent enclosure.  I dreamed of dragging the tent up to the dunes while many of my tourist friends stood in ankle deep water on the beach, circled by "glow in the dark sharks" that thrilled and fascinated them, and never bit.  
+
+The glow sharks were magnificent, and the dream felt good.  Countdown to reality.
+
+
+

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diff --git a/posts/Anxiety-mare.mdwn b/posts/Anxiety-mare.mdwn
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+In the nightmare, the ocean has become a water park for confederate flag waving racists.  The other scares me, and there are others who shiver down these shoots on our way into the unknown.  I tell a small woman who cannot swim she can grab onto me for buoyancy, then I am afraid, as haters speed by with their flags and general loudness.  I do not know where we are headed, just that this small woman, I fear is really my niece.  I think that would be the one thing worse than this accidental vacation from hell, but then the spout is shooting us out, one after another or two at a time, into Goodness knows what, and I am thinking I hope we don't end up just repeating and repeating this same history.  There is some decision, like left or right.  What can we do?
+[[!img Dr2cxC-5_400x400.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+But anxiety is not unending.  Generally after waking from the nightmare, or taking a dump, parts of our gut realign, and I open my eyes realizing there is this little dog snuggled up to me.  At first I think it is to keep warm, but I know when I tell my Mom my terrible dream, she is right in suggesting Brazen was right there because I needed her.  The reality is not a nightmare at all.  That is just anxiety.  I am still making it to the beach this year, and in this world, the ocean is still peace.

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diff --git a/posts/What__39__s_for_Supper__44___Vegans__63__.mdwn b/posts/What__39__s_for_Supper__44___Vegans__63__.mdwn
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+
+[[!img zuke.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img sup.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+
+Before you make the wonderful vegan zuke desert, you must pick it, fresh or in a bunch at Farmers Market.  Remember where your zuke comes from.  Now grate the whole zuke, throw in about 1/4 cup honey, 3/4 cup white flour, a spoonful of orange concentrate, and dump in a heafty shake of cinnamon.  Stir it all up and bake on 375 about 20 minutes until edible.
+
+Now cook some brown rice in water.  
+
+At the same time satee some garlic and crushed pecans in with some green beans until tender.  
+
+Bon apetite!  
+

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diff --git a/posts/Vegan_Lunch_Day_6.mdwn b/posts/Vegan_Lunch_Day_6.mdwn
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+[[!img sauce.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img pasta.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+Today, for lunch, I am eating a simple vegan pasta and sauce that I made myself.  
+
+Ingredients:
+
+<br>whole grain pasta</br>
+<br>2 tomatoes</br>
+<br>6 crushed garlic cloves</br>
+<br>a small amount of cut green pepper</br>
+<br>a dab of honey</br>
+<br>celery salt</br>
+<br>Italian seasoning</br>
+
+I say vegan but I am very pro honey.  I also made a zucchini loaf (with more honey) and am drinking lots of water.

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+
+[[!img magtobyard.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Vegan_Day_four.mdwn b/posts/Vegan_Day_four.mdwn
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+[[!img vegan.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img toms.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img blueberries.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/The_Elephant_in_the_Room.mdwn b/posts/The_Elephant_in_the_Room.mdwn
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+Black locust trees drop yellow leaflets all the spring, summer, and fall, except for the final loss to be bare in winter.  Three of our five trees, though seventy feet high, and each of them bigger than our house, were becoming suffocated entirely by two vines.  Virginia creeper and another, the shackles around them.  Today, the fourth of July, is all about national freedom, and I realize freedom is very tight knit with the definition of peace, freedom from civil disturbance.  So I was sitting on the front of my porch meditating just a bit ago, gazing up high at our great, tall locust trees, and soaking up beautiful peace, and I started noticing things I never have known about the trees that grew up beside me.  These plant siblings of mine, I have researched are as rooty and big under the Earth's surface as above.  I began counting leaflets, the small oval shaped parts that make up the leaf.  Each leaf can have as many as 17 or as few as one leaflets.  And I noticed there is a common order to which leaflets get old and fall first.  If there were five leaflets on a leaf, the middle finger of sorts is the one that will fall last.  When the last leaflet falls, the stem goes around and drops off too.  Yes, they can be a major effort to sweep or clean from the gutters, but they also feed the garden when they decompose, and in the gust of wind, or several, it is a miracle to lay back under those black locust trees and witness their dancing to the ground or many remaining ones in the tree that really do seem to bow their boughs and wave in the wind.
+
+[[!img el.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+So I am notably imperfect, but I am grateful because these trees keep me humble because of the peacefulness about them which is about what I was thinking wen I noticed the at least fifteen years of thick shackling vines that were threatening to kill our trees, and maybe crash into a few roofs while they were at it.  So what did I do?
+
+I went and got the saw and I cut the life out of those vines and I'm hoping I saved the trees.  I wrote this literally watching parts of the vines turn yellow.  And the most amazing thing is, I really think I heard the locusts thank me and say "about time" which I also felt inside my heart.  Recently I watched an educational video about plant intelligence, that said , like humans, plants have a sort of world wide web or a network of information they keep to tell them where to invest their energy and grow more.  This information is stored in their roots in sort of microfungi.  In a forest, the tallest tree of a species seems to have a sort of motherboard of information than the other smaller trees.  The mother tree, even downloads all of her information to the network when she senses she is going to die.  To be privy to that sort of information!
+
+Wait, we are!  We Americans have freedoms, freedom of the press, free speech, and information is a big part of that.  We have the right an privilege to information and the responsibility to look around us, see where an individual is in shackles of some kind, and emancipate them.  So this is 4th, remember the true meaning of patriotism, and look to the soothsayers, and join them, and if for some reason a group or person is not free, you do have a civic responsibility to cut the shackles.

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diff --git a/posts/Staying.mdwn b/posts/Staying.mdwn
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+[[!img bird1.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+<br>To live vicarious</br>
+<br>through the swifts</br>
+<br>with sudden lows</br>
+<br>and lovely lifts.</br>
+
+<br>To be, a time,</br>
+<br>a locust tree</br>
+<br>waving my leaflets</br>
+<br>like some sea.</br>
+
+<br>The porch my sand bar,</br>
+<br>sky its waves,</br>
+<br>quizzically see</br>
+<br>how life behaves.</br>
+
+<br>Some things are just</br> 
+<br>exactly same</br>
+<br>by mountains wild</br>
+<br>or oceans tame.</br>
+
+<br>Some vacations</br>
+<br>are better ought</br>
+<br>to be not gone on,</br>
+<br>not leave this spot.</br>
+
+[[!img bird2.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Cutting_Off.mdwn b/posts/Cutting_Off.mdwn
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+<br>This is the last one</br>
+<br>the end this time</br>
+<br>said every poet</br>
+<br>about every rhyme.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Front_Porch_Ocean.mdwn b/posts/Front_Porch_Ocean.mdwn
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+<br>In the forest of time</br>
+<br>a house with a porch</br>
+<br>becomes many things</br>
+<br>never predicted,</br>
+<br>roadways and beach fronts</br>
+<br>the real rising tide.</br>

diff --git a/posts/Hospitals.mdwn b/posts/Hospitals.mdwn
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+I have been setting firm limits about how much I can do for our hospitalized friend.  I was there by bus 2 hours both today and yesterday.  That includes 2 hours per day of bus transit too, so 4 hours of energy per day.  It is hard work to care for others and I want to, but I really only am so good at it before needing to take better care of myself again.  
+
+This show I am watching, Life Sentence, that I recommend is about a cancer survivor who started thereafter volunteering in the same hospital. I am not completely certain that I recommend it because the main character is not entirely mentally monogamous and it bothers me in the context of the show, even though I think her decision is going to be not to.  But what that line of thought reminds me is I spent a whole long month in a hospital, and A they suck and B I would volunteer there more because I really do care but C hospitals just suck.
+
+Meanwhile, I got a job interview that I finally decided to turn down due to the fact that it is in another town.  Maybe I am finally learning how to STAY.
+

diff --git a/posts/The_Importance_of_Family.mdwn b/posts/The_Importance_of_Family.mdwn
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+A family friend of mine is in the hospital.  Right now, I am so aware of the importance of family and serious family friends willing to do the hard stuff like sit with the person who has to spend time in the hospital.  When I spent a month in the hospital, it was almost unbearable.  Wish I could simultaneously be there for my brother in California.  

diff --git a/posts/How_Precious_is_Time__63__.mdwn b/posts/How_Precious_is_Time__63__.mdwn
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+As the years go by, without working a job, drawing disability, no longer in school, I am more and more aware of time, free time, and really quite territorial of my free moments.  
+
+I am a creative person, a hopeful person, and not entirely unable, and sometimes I feel I could learn again to use my time in a different way, to work some vocation or other, a full or part time job.  One of the big reasons I am not doing that really is that I am hooked on time.  When I was called disabled, I fought the title tooth and nail, and wanted to get back to work.  
+
+It is hard to explain how I currently feel to most people.  Hooked on time seems odd, especially to people who really have never had any free time, and actually there are so many people like that.  
+
+I do religiously believe in taking care of myself, though.  So I'm holding tight to time.
+
+[[!img DSCF1521.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Hearty_Quaker_Testimonies_-___34__SELFISH__34___mnemonic.mdwn b/posts/Hearty_Quaker_Testimonies_-___34__SELFISH__34___mnemonic.mdwn
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+I always have felt there is something silly about a mnemonic I hear a lot of Quakers refer to as "the Quaker testimonies."  Simplicity Peace Integrity Community Equality and Sustainability.  I like these words and I think generally it is good for people to pursue them in their way.  I have noticed that some Friends are quite focused on these words in a way that seems geared at making the world a better place.  I am glad for that and for these Friends.  But also, I am glad for Quakers who might just go to Meeting for silence or consider themselves Friends "outside the Meetinghouse" in smaller things. 
+
+So I would have written this for Friends Journal, but it is a bit too irreverent.  I think what I want to do is to make fun of the SPICES with my own SELFISH mnemonic.
+
+Selfcare.  I don't know about other Friends, but I am deeply committed to the Quaker testimony of self care.  I say that as a borderline joke.  But I also am deeply committed to selfcare.  I just am.
+Ephemoral.  All friends die and change every day.
+Laughing.  
+Feeding.  
+Introspecting.
+Silent.
+Hearts.
+
+This entry is not half hearted, but is more like half minded.  Unfinished thoughts.  Mostly a joke to begin with.  Interested if anyone posts a reply.    

diff --git a/posts/My_Charcoal_Series.mdwn b/posts/My_Charcoal_Series.mdwn
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+[[!img charcoal1.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img carcoal4.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img charcoal5.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img charcoal6.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/How_to_Set_a_Heart__63__.mdwn b/posts/How_to_Set_a_Heart__63__.mdwn
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+<br>"You can do anything you set your heart to."  Anna Hess</br>
+
+<br>A set heart strikes the hour, every hour.</br>
+<br>When noon, the wooden boy and girl come out</br>
+<br>in peasant clothes and dance around.</br>
+<br>When they'd dance,</br>
+<br>my grandma said to pause.</br>
+<br>The long chains with the pine cones at the bottom</br>
+<br>must be pulled down even to set the clock.</br>
+<br>As the hours pass they pull apart.</br>
+
+
+
+[[!img ANTIQUE-SWISS-DANCING-COUPLE-BALLERINA-MUSIC-BOX-01-1024x1024.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/One_Year_Ago_Me.mdwn b/posts/One_Year_Ago_Me.mdwn
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+My brother Joey wrote a program to generate a somewhat random picture for the background on Mom's computer that I am currently borrowing.  But it just isn't entirely random, and that is part of the fun.  For a while it seemed the program was repeating about ten selfies of me, so there are a few flaws in the design.  Still, it's pretty cool.  Often I look at Mom's computer and notice a picture of me from a file from a year ago, or just a snapshot of whatever from a year ago, or five years ago, but with the same month.  Here is the picture I found today. 
+
+[[!img maggiejune2017.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Strengthening.mdwn b/posts/Strengthening.mdwn
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+This is my time to become a stronger person, regardless of what I am doing specifically!  

diff --git a/posts/Body_At_the_Juncture_of_Two_Idyllic_Openings.mdwn b/posts/Body_At_the_Juncture_of_Two_Idyllic_Openings.mdwn
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+When I was in the mental ward for bipolar disorder, age 17, yoga and making paper cranes were two of the things that I did to cope and get out of that hard to be place.  That was when I weighed 118 pounds, before the medically induced weight gain took over my body.  I had learned the beginnings of yoga from a book a friend of the family gave me.  So around age 8 or 10 I taught myself yoga when I didn’t think anyone else knew it or understood it.  It was speedy and mostly just to see if I could kink my body into the hard to form poses.  I wanted to prove how flexible I was, and that was the main thing I did it for.  So maybe it wasn’t really yoga until age 19 when I audited a class with Dolores at Virginia Intermont.  That was the introduction to the concepts of yoga, and the idea that concentrating on breathe is important.  I was in and out of mental wards 17-21 due to the onset of mental illness.  I am sorry that it is true, but the more balanced my moods got, I also got fatter and fatter, until I did not feel comfortable with what body I found myself in.  So by 21, the yoga aspect disappeared, and I quit yoga, and barely swam, which is one of my important things that I do for my whole health, mental and physical.  Thank God, the illness did not completely take away my body or my mobility and flexibility.  
+
+Around age 29 I took a required gym class, Intermediate and Advanced Swimming.  It was the course I chose among a nice list of possibilities from Yoga to Camping and Hiking.  I am fortunate for the privilege that my education offered me.  I had swum now and then between 21 and 29, but at 29 some things occurred to me.  Not everybody even knows how to swim, so I am gifted in a way in terms of the fact that my strokes are pretty well formed and my speed could almost meet the average of my female classmates.  My friends and classmates told me they were impressed and surprised by my swimming.  So at least that semester, I felt stronger and more active in my body.  I felt more able and vibrant in my abilities.  A couple semesters later, I took walking for fitness the same semester that my old faithful car broke down and I ended up trading the car in for money ultimately because it was a drain on my finances and I knew I could just walk.  At that point, I walked an hour in class three days a week, which was a lot for me, a 330 pound woman.  Plus now, I was walking to school and sometimes even home, which totaled up to 4 miles each way!  My feet were hurting some.  I felt I had done something stupid selling the car at first.  But by the end of the semester, which was my last semester of college, I did not regret it anymore.  I had done it!  I was 30, it was 2012.  I started college in 2000, then immediately got ill.  This was a true accomplishment academically, but also, my body was at a momentous place in life because I  was forcing myself to walk so much.  
+
+I moved home to Tennessee, and due to the fact I had a family car, I kind of stagnated a little in terms of walking so much.  In these 5 years, I have had a lot of time at the pool, thank goodness, and have resumed swimming as a healing important necessary aspect of my life.  I still walk, and terrifically I have overcome the back pain I had in college.  I attribute that back pain I had to “resistance.”  I also feel emotionally complete and utter joyfulness.  I don’t mean I don’t have passing emotions or that I don’t suffer grief, but my general temperament is just so happy.  A big part of that is I have let go of trying to be attached to anything.  I am aware my happiness is fleeting.  That is the wonderful paradox I know.
+
+Yoga in my present life has not been happening much.  I took a few classes with Heather, and I adore her patient approach that she offers students who need not to rush their yoga, who need to work on building strength and resistance.  That is where I feel I am at in my yoga.  Except for one stumbling block.  I can’t afford to pay for yoga.  People say yoga is pretty cheap in Bristol, and I agree the people involved try to make it very affordable.  Community yoga is only 5 dollars, classes are 10, and due to Heather’s great benevolence, meditation is always free.  Still, it is nearly impossible for me to raise 5 dollars a week or even per month to pay for that yoga.  I tried the ten dollar class, but due to my low income status from my disability I had to set a limit and not pay that anymore even though I so craved the yoga, and got so much out of the classes.  
+
+Now it happens that I am reading a wonderful book called Swimming with Elephants that deals with the fact that mentally ill people are healers the fact that it can be a very dangerous approach to ask people money for their healing.  Also, recently, I saw a documentary, The Last Shaman, that covered a similar subject.  How rare it is to find a shaman who is not trying to make money off of their gift.  And some of the shamans and healers and yoga instructors are just doing their best.  Many of them are.  They are doing everything in their power to spread their love of yoga while somehow making ends meet for themselves.  Plus some people are super glad to give their money for a yoga class, for some people, because they do have a little extra money, they are happy to share their wealth and think yoga classes are the absolute best thing they can give their money to.
+
+Also, right now, due to my joy, and my current state of being so well, it happens that I recognize in myself that I am “having an opening.”  My response to that is I have to change something.  It started where I thought I might get a job.  Then I firmly decreed not to just get some job.  Then I found a very idyllic Quaker role in Boston that made me turn around and apply to the Quaker job, despite my decree, or rather, due to the fact that this was not just “some job” but a wonderful job in the case that they want me.  I have yet to know whether they do or not.
+
+Meanwhile, I was sitting on the front porch reflecting and I pretty much had a clearness committee for myself.  I came to a very deep honest place and made a decision, recognizing that if I do not get the job, I will still be in a personal place of OPENING.  So if I don’t get the job, I want to have a plan to really do something to use my gifts and talents and strengths to make the world better in some way.  That is the goal for the opening.  Then I looked at my yoga mat which was sharing the porch there with me waiting for mobility and sun salutations.  My yoga mat has a personality and it was talking to me.  And it said, “why don’t you get up and do sun salutations by yourself, regardless of all of this money talk?  You apparently have all your needs met, so now would be a great time for you to practice your yoga.”
+
+And I want to and will and am excited to listen to the advice of my yoga mat.  But first I wanted to write this, because I think the answer for my OPENING has come to me.  I want to do the 2020 yoga teacher training at Bristol Yoga if I don’t get the idyllic Boston Quaker job.  I think I have a lot to offer as a yoga teacher, that many other people here don’t.  For two big examples, I am a large figured woman who could inspire others like me to strengthen, and I am low income and willing to teach for free.  Being willing to work for free, I think, is a sign of a truly interested person.
+
+So as I wait to hear back from Boston, I can’t help but to think, what if I took the opening part of my soul and life course and build around myself in Tennessee something as idyllic and helping others as that which I hope to do in Boston.  So I could go either way.  I don’t know if Boston wants me, and I don’t know if I can raise over 2,000 dollars by 2020 for the yoga teacher training.  But I know I am one of these people who commits myself to what I do, and I know I made it through college walking sometimes 12 miles in some days just to make the finish line.  And I am pretty sure I can do anything I set my mind to.  

diff --git a/posts/Have_You_Listened_to_the_Song_the_Catalpa_Tree_Sings__63__.mdwn b/posts/Have_You_Listened_to_the_Song_the_Catalpa_Tree_Sings__63__.mdwn
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+I AM MAGGIE SHAMAN GIRL
+HEAR ME NOW
+I AM HEALED TODAY
+IT HAS NOT ALWAYS BEEN THIS WAY
+...
+i want to shout to the world
+i am not sick anymore
+but pharmaceuticals
+still lock my door
+PART OF MY LIFE HAS BEEN REELING
+DOCTORS WHO DON'T REALLY UNDERSTAND HEALING
+WHO DON'T COMPREHEND HOW THE BRAIN EVEN WORKS
+AND JUST TRY TO PACIFY ME FROM BEING BERSERKS
+maybe i need ayahuasca
+or to drink lithium water
+what is wrong with me
+i asked the catalpa tree
+NOTHING IS WRONG MY GIRL
+SANG THE CATALPA BURL
+HUG YOURSELF AND KNOW YOUR START
+HEAR YOUR ROOTS AND LEAFY PARTS
+maybe my catalpa tree was right
+my path to peace was still going
+i wondered as i walked upon the path that night
+in tennessee where it was snowing
+TIME PASSED ON
+I FOUND SUCH PEACE
+AND HAPPINESS
+NO MORE TROUBLED BY MENTAL DISEASE
+or so i thought
+but i could not help
+but wonder
+if the stillness would also pass like thunder
+THINGS HAPPENED TO UPSET MY DAYS
+MY DOG GOT BIT
+ANOTHER PERSON WAS A JERK
+YET I RETAINED A PEACEFULNESS
+i can wonder what is the source of my inner calm
+is it these medicines i take
+either way
+it is not fake
+...
+WHEN I REALIZE
+ALL THE CRAZIES
+COULD BE SHAMANS
+THEN I FEEL A LITTLE LAZY
+slowly my family members ask for ears
+i listen hard
+to them talking
+about their lives
+FIRST MY MOTHER
+TELLING ME
+ABOUT HER TROUBLES
+THEN MY SISTER, AND MY OWN PAPA
+now i know
+that healing others
+can be ask simple
+as what i already offer
+
+[[!img Northern_Catalpa_speciosa.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Watching___34__Walk_with_Me__34___about_Thich_Nhat_Hanh_in_Bristol__44___TN.mdwn b/posts/Watching___34__Walk_with_Me__34___about_Thich_Nhat_Hanh_in_Bristol__44___TN.mdwn
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+Just before going to the wonderful viewing of "Walk with Me" at Bristol Yoga (because of the wonderful Heather) I realized that my current totem animal is a firefly (or lightening bug which is the same thing.)
+
+I invited Mom and was so glad that she enjoyed the film so much, remarking "that is the most interesting thing that's ever happened in Bristol" and "isn't Heather lovely?!"  Yes!  Indeed!
+
+I was feeling deep emotions off and on through the movie.  They made me periodically well up with tears.  Not that they were always correlating to what happened on the screen, though sometimes.
+
+In an opening scene, the monks are walking through the woods, and before I see the monks contemplatively walking there, I notice the noises of the forest.  Birds are singing loudly and melodiously.  
+
+When the monks enter, their walking seems to bring this real peace to everything, lowering the noise of the forest by degrees.  Not in terms of scaring away wildlife, but stilling all of the bustle by magic.
+
+The film follows a year of the life of the people at Plum Village in France, where Thich Nhat Hanh has spent much time since his initial political exile from Vietnam in 1966 for peace raising.  
+
+Though there is narration by Benedict Cumberbatch, it is like a guided meditation in itself, in that you get lots of time to think your own ideas and draw your own conclusions, or just be silent.
+
+Even during the movie, I am thinking of myself as a firefly.  We all have a brightness of eyes that comes and goes, and I think my firefly spirit is connected with my feeling of hopefulness.
+
+I am having a great joyfulness, like Thich experienced, as he wrote in his journal in 1966, as Cumberbatch narrated.  My joy too comes with awareness that suffering and change are inevitable.
+
+We do not fight them.  There is this beautiful moment when a little girl asks Thich how to overcome the death of her best friend, her dog.  His answer, about the cloud, holds the greatest truth I have heard.
+
+I'll let you check it out for yourself though.  

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-Stronger
-
-You can leave yourself behind
-
-bleak in the hands of a stranger
-
-stuck without an exit
-
-in a bus stop, isolated, Maine.
-
-
-I know
-
-I have swum in the rip tide there
-
-where the sharks circle in pods
-
-along the shoreline, only way the land.
-
-
-But this is the whisper
-
-of a different man who helped me
-
-another stranger on the train I took
-
-who sat there with me about one hour.
-
-
-Then the stranger on the train
-
-got up and left me there
-
-just to sit a while with myself
-
-and remember I am strong.
-
-
-I can push myself through the sharks
-
-I'll disguise myself, a fin
-
-I'll kick the tide with all my might
-
-till I'm safe on the sand again.
-
-The whisper of that friend
-
-who helped me find my fight
-
-is what I hope that I can spread
-
-in the night, a firefly.
-
-
-[[!img fireflies-long-exposure-photography-2016-japan-19-copy-26112017082056-1000x0.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
-[[!img IMG_20180616_175600.jpg align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]

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+Stronger
+
+You can leave yourself behind
+
+bleak in the hands of a stranger
+
+stuck without an exit
+
+in a bus stop, isolated, Maine.
+
+
+I know
+
+I have swum in the rip tide there
+
+where the sharks circle in pods
+
+along the shoreline, only way the land.
+
+
+But this is the whisper
+
+of a different man who helped me
+
+another stranger on the train I took
+
+who sat there with me about one hour.
+
+
+Then the stranger on the train
+
+got up and left me there
+
+just to sit a while with myself
+
+and remember I am strong.
+
+
+I can push myself through the sharks
+
+I'll disguise myself, a fin
+
+I'll kick the tide with all my might
+
+till I'm safe on the sand again.
+
+The whisper of that friend
+
+who helped me find my fight
+
+is what I hope that I can spread
+
+in the night, a firefly.
+
+
+[[!img fireflies-long-exposure-photography-2016-japan-19-copy-26112017082056-1000x0.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img IMG_20180616_175600.jpg align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]

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+<br>You can leave yourself behind</br>
+<br>bleak in the hands of a stranger</br>
+<br>stuck without an exit</br>
+<br>in a bus stop, isolated, Maine.</br>
+
+<br>I know</br>
+<br>I have swum in the rip tide there</br>
+<br>where the sharks circle in pods</br>
+<br>along the shoreline, only way the land.</br>
+
+<br>But this is the whisper</br>
+<br>of a different man who helped me</br>
+<br>another stranger on the train I took</br>
+<br>who sat there with me about one hour.</br>
+
+<br>Then the stranger on the train</br>
+<br>got up and left me there</br>
+<br>just to sit a while with myself</br>
+<br>and remember I am strong.</br>
+
+<br>I can push myself through the sharks</br>
+<br>I'll disguise myself, a fin</br>
+<br>I'll kick the tide with all my might</br>
+<br>till I'm safe on the sand again.</br>
+
+<br>The whisper of that friend</br>
+<br>who helped me find my fight</br>
+<br>is what I hope that I can spread</br>
+<br>in the night, a firefly.</br>
+[[!img fireflies-long-exposure-photography-2016-japan-19-copy-26112017082056-1000x0.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+[[!img IMG_20180616_175600.jpg align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/Why_I_Hate_White_Lies_and_Find_them_Unkind.mdwn b/posts/Why_I_Hate_White_Lies_and_Find_them_Unkind.mdwn
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-How to Respect Me: When Saying No is Kindness
-
-I am tired of writing half truths, squeezed by the political constraints of an overly conscious concern for the sensitivity of others.  I am not angry about this.  It is just the facts of life.  I have been afraid of stepping on toes, but in this book, my intention is to get to the bottom of things.  
-
-
-
-Brene Brown says saying setting boundaries is an act of compassion.  She is entirely right, but there is a side of the subject that I am not sure if she is considering.  When people say yes to everything, or are afraid to tell other people the honest truth, it is a symptom of disrespect.  It shows the people who are being pandered to that the ones who won’t say no do not trust them enough to be honest.  
-
-I know these things take effort.  I used to hear a lot that every time a certain relative of mine said no or told the truth to me it came back to haunt her, I got angry or acted really hurt.  
-
-But here is my side of the story.  I got diagnosed with a mental illness when I turned 17.  My family stayed there for me, but they said the me they had known so well left the seen for a long time.  When your family member is in the full blows of a psychotic episode, I will not blame you for any self help you are doing for yourself.  If that means hanging out with other family members away from the mentally ill person and telling insulting jokes, all the more power to you, if it helps you cope.  But when your loved one or family member has been level on their medications for a while, when they have been out of the hospital at least a year, and maybe are in school once again or holding a job or trying to be a creative writer, or even if they just watch a lot of TV, but they are not back peddling, when your loved one has been level for a while, you need to try to grow up a little yourself.  Part of that is telling the truth and another part of that is saying no.  Here are some examples of being truthful, which I am saying is kinder than white lies:
-
-
-I just talk to you because I am afraid you’ll kill yourself.
-The truth is I am just hanging out with you because of the obligation of our parents being old time friends.  No, I don’t want to invite you out there with my friends because you might ruin it for me.
-Just no.
-No, I don’t want to drive you there because I think it would not be fun for me.
-The truth is I need counseling myself now, and I attribute it to you.
-
-
-
-
-You know, writing those examples of what might be said actually reminds me words I either have heard at least once or in some cases, that I imagine might still be true.  For example, in the beginning, many of my loved ones either gave me attention or completely ignored me due to thinking I was suicidal.  As it turned out, I just had other severe mental symptoms.  I have always had a very strong life flame.  But almost everyone I know, except for most of the ones who have had their own mental breakdowns or suicide attempts said that to me.  
-
-People are so peculiar because it is so easy for us humans to shut down our caring parts or hike them all the way up (which leads to burn out) when suicide is mentioned.  So when folks heard I had spent my first week of college in the psych ward, they jumped to the suicide conclusion.  I totally agree that it is terrible to have a loved one go in to the psych ward, or like so many of my peers in there, attempt suicide, but I can’t rewind and hold your loving hand every time mid sentence or mid paragraph.  I am still trying to get my deepest truth out on this subject.  
-
-So then there is hanging out with someone out of obligation.  If you are doing it out of kindness and obligation and they are kind of mixed together, that is one thing, and that seems fine.  But when it just is obligation, it really starts to get cruel.  There are other people there and they keep asking, so how do you know Wilma and Hagar?  You’re like, well, no one else is being asked that.  Why ask me that?  And the other people are like everyone else is just kicking back and having a better time than you.  You’re like shit, why did I car pool here.  
-
-Actually that is the next issue in the list.  Don’t give people lifts places if you don’t really want to.  Now, that question is a great reason to go to therapy yourself.  For example, how do you know if you want to take someone nine hours away for a week on a family vacation where they could just chill or they could be a screaming jerk the whole time?  I mean you probably like them well enough, but they are kind of unpredictable.  Well, to answer that wonderful question I imagine you might be asking, say no if you have a lot of doubts.  
-
-From my perspective, I don’t have as much money as my family members and part of it is due to my disabling mental illness.  Part of it is I am settled and content to not work and to just live off of my pittance check.  It might be hard to tell someone no when you consider their circumstances.  But if you really want to you should.
-
-Then there is the thing about people blaming folks like me for their need to attend counseling, and that is totally a jerk response.  It also is not true.  When people grow up in the same family, all of us humans, we all can get mental illness, and most of us do.  You don’t see me blaming you for my needing counseling do you?
-
-It really sounds like I am pretty worked up, but I am just trying to be honest.  I think many of the people in this world have mental illness and we all need eachother’s help with it, and one thing I can give is truth.  
-
-[[!img deepend.jpg align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]

diff --git a/posts/Why_I_Hate_White_Lies_and_Find_them_Unkind.mdwn b/posts/Why_I_Hate_White_Lies_and_Find_them_Unkind.mdwn
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+How to Respect Me: When Saying No is Kindness
+
+I am tired of writing half truths, squeezed by the political constraints of an overly conscious concern for the sensitivity of others.  I am not angry about this.  It is just the facts of life.  I have been afraid of stepping on toes, but in this book, my intention is to get to the bottom of things.  
+
+
+
+Brene Brown says saying setting boundaries is an act of compassion.  She is entirely right, but there is a side of the subject that I am not sure if she is considering.  When people say yes to everything, or are afraid to tell other people the honest truth, it is a symptom of disrespect.  It shows the people who are being pandered to that the ones who won’t say no do not trust them enough to be honest.  
+
+I know these things take effort.  I used to hear a lot that every time a certain relative of mine said no or told the truth to me it came back to haunt her, I got angry or acted really hurt.  
+
+But here is my side of the story.  I got diagnosed with a mental illness when I turned 17.  My family stayed there for me, but they said the me they had known so well left the seen for a long time.  When your family member is in the full blows of a psychotic episode, I will not blame you for any self help you are doing for yourself.  If that means hanging out with other family members away from the mentally ill person and telling insulting jokes, all the more power to you, if it helps you cope.  But when your loved one or family member has been level on their medications for a while, when they have been out of the hospital at least a year, and maybe are in school once again or holding a job or trying to be a creative writer, or even if they just watch a lot of TV, but they are not back peddling, when your loved one has been level for a while, you need to try to grow up a little yourself.  Part of that is telling the truth and another part of that is saying no.  Here are some examples of being truthful, which I am saying is kinder than white lies:
+
+
+I just talk to you because I am afraid you’ll kill yourself.
+The truth is I am just hanging out with you because of the obligation of our parents being old time friends.  No, I don’t want to invite you out there with my friends because you might ruin it for me.
+Just no.
+No, I don’t want to drive you there because I think it would not be fun for me.
+The truth is I need counseling myself now, and I attribute it to you.
+
+
+
+
+You know, writing those examples of what might be said actually reminds me words I either have heard at least once or in some cases, that I imagine might still be true.  For example, in the beginning, many of my loved ones either gave me attention or completely ignored me due to thinking I was suicidal.  As it turned out, I just had other severe mental symptoms.  I have always had a very strong life flame.  But almost everyone I know, except for most of the ones who have had their own mental breakdowns or suicide attempts said that to me.  
+
+People are so peculiar because it is so easy for us humans to shut down our caring parts or hike them all the way up (which leads to burn out) when suicide is mentioned.  So when folks heard I had spent my first week of college in the psych ward, they jumped to the suicide conclusion.  I totally agree that it is terrible to have a loved one go in to the psych ward, or like so many of my peers in there, attempt suicide, but I can’t rewind and hold your loving hand every time mid sentence or mid paragraph.  I am still trying to get my deepest truth out on this subject.  
+
+So then there is hanging out with someone out of obligation.  If you are doing it out of kindness and obligation and they are kind of mixed together, that is one thing, and that seems fine.  But when it just is obligation, it really starts to get cruel.  There are other people there and they keep asking, so how do you know Wilma and Hagar?  You’re like, well, no one else is being asked that.  Why ask me that?  And the other people are like everyone else is just kicking back and having a better time than you.  You’re like shit, why did I car pool here.  
+
+Actually that is the next issue in the list.  Don’t give people lifts places if you don’t really want to.  Now, that question is a great reason to go to therapy yourself.  For example, how do you know if you want to take someone nine hours away for a week on a family vacation where they could just chill or they could be a screaming jerk the whole time?  I mean you probably like them well enough, but they are kind of unpredictable.  Well, to answer that wonderful question I imagine you might be asking, say no if you have a lot of doubts.  
+
+From my perspective, I don’t have as much money as my family members and part of it is due to my disabling mental illness.  Part of it is I am settled and content to not work and to just live off of my pittance check.  It might be hard to tell someone no when you consider their circumstances.  But if you really want to you should.
+
+Then there is the thing about people blaming folks like me for their need to attend counseling, and that is totally a jerk response.  It also is not true.  When people grow up in the same family, all of us humans, we all can get mental illness, and most of us do.  You don’t see me blaming you for my needing counseling do you?
+
+It really sounds like I am pretty worked up, but I am just trying to be honest.  I think many of the people in this world have mental illness and we all need eachother’s help with it, and one thing I can give is truth.  
+
+[[!img deepend.jpg align="right" size="500x" alt=""]]

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diff --git a/posts/How_to_Heal_Thyself_of_Killer_Back_Pain.mdwn b/posts/How_to_Heal_Thyself_of_Killer_Back_Pain.mdwn
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+I read a lot of self help books, and they are a jumble in my minds sometimes.  So I can't tell you with certainty which one it was that said to me that resistance is the main source of back pain.  Resistance, huh?  I heard it, and I immediately recognized a truth in the blaming resistance, but it seemed like somebody who just has it easy telling me I would be pain free if I just had it easy.  How am I supposed to alleviate the resistance?  I wondered.  And largely, I went ahead with my life, not changing the resistance directly or knowingly because I didn't know or understand what it was, where it was located, or how I could change it.
+
+[[!img butterfly_painting.JPG align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+Needless to say, back then, my back pain was pretty awful.  It was dull and I could still do things, but it just hurt so bad to climb a hill or go on a hike.  I felt miserable thinking that if I felt this bad at 33 I had only negative times ahead.  But there were a lot of positive things I was involving myself with over these couple years of healing.  And though correlation is hard to prove causation, and I was regularly swimming and walking dogs, I am certain the reason my back pain disappeared almost instantly, was due to the self help books I was reading.  (Kelly McGonigal, Brene Brown, Tara Brach, so on)
+
+[[!img Emersion.jpg align="right" size="450x" alt=""]]
+
+When I look at the disappearance of my back pain, I realize what really was going on was quite psychological, though not entirely.  The pain was real.  But why did I have pain?  I really think I had pain largely due to the fact I felt a lack of self worth and guilt around my declining mobility of my early adulthood, as opposed to my late adolescence.  So I found that I was not able to do much like I used to do, my capabilities had so dropped and I felt guilt because I was no longer doing as many useful things, like serious exercise for example.  But with the self help books, somehow, I realized the way out of guilt is miraculously to let in to the very thing that makes you guilty.  Hear that again.  If overeating is your thing that troubles you, over eat a little more, but drop the self hate around the eating.  If porn is your passion.  Surf that porn thing, but do it without shame.  So I started passionately being lazy.  My new "thing" became relaxing on the front porch and watching the world change.
+
+[[!img fall.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+And then the worry that I was insufficient, and the fear that I might be lazy, and the guilt that nothing I did was constructive faded in a flash.  Like a dramatic shift between night and day, my back stopped hurting.  And then, ironically, yes indeed, I stopped sitting so often.  And I got up a little more.  And I became a little more active.  And all the while, my back still felt so good.  

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diff --git a/posts/Grateful_to_live_in_this_historically_black_neighborhood.mdwn b/posts/Grateful_to_live_in_this_historically_black_neighborhood.mdwn
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@@ -1,13 +0,0 @@
-There is a lot of disinformation spreading through ignorant and bigoted news sources so that many general public people, not aware that they are wrong, don't know up from down.  When you grew up listening to Fox News or Nazi propaganda in your home, you are likely to think it is the truth, and you might not know what the truth actually is.  So after talking to one of these bigoted people at a diner this morning, and after being told things that just aren't true by a man who wants to believe he is level headed and right, I feel I should set some things straight.  The main thing he said was that Ferguson was a violent racist rally that black people conducted, and that therefore Obama was held at a double standard when he "didn't condemn" the Black Lives Matter protests then.  So now it's 2017 and I am thinking it really matters where people get there news, and this man in the diner was so far gone with racism he didn't even know existed.
-
-But I came into this blog today to write something of gratitude.  I am so so so grateful that because I live in a beautiful, full, diverse, quiet, historically black neighborhood, there absolutely never is anyone here on my street with any of that hate going on.  We are a street of many kinds, but none of us would put up with confederate flags or anything fascist.  So as part of self care, I wake with gratitude, and every day I have the great fortune that my street has so many kind wonderful people.  There are black and white people on this street and we all look out for each other.  If someone needs a cup of milk or sugar or eggs, they don't have to look very far, they just reach over their fence and call out to a neighbor, and we take care of each other.  Over the years, I have gotten to know almost everyone who lives on my street.  Some people are more introverted than others, and they can keep to themselves in our peaceful neighborhood.  Others are outside every day gardening and sitting on the front porch.  The people of this neighborhood have become my people.  We have something that other communities don't.  It is like stepping back into the 80's or 90's because of how we still relate to one another rather than just using facebook and phones.  So my home-street is rich, wealthy beyond any place or area where I have lived, because of this thing we have called community.  
-
-Maybe you have a street kind of like mine, or maybe you have to watch out a little more because of the escalating conflict in our world with 45 teaching hate.  Our street wasn't always this way.  The thing is, our street used to be a little more volatile.  In the early 80's when my family moved to this place in this town, there were a lot of drunks who would sling their bottles down in the back behind our houses where there now is a park.  We all wanted the drunks to clear out (even maybe some of the drunks wanted it).  But the person who was integral in the cleaning up of our street was a man called Jackson.  Jackson was one of the earliest people on this street I think.  He used to live away for a while, but he did move back to the street of his childhood here eventually.  My mother was a big part of shooing away the drunks with a broom!  But Jackson visioned what the neighborhood could be.  It happens that Jackson is African American, and the reason I mention it is to show one example of the fact that we all are human beings and that the color of our skin is just a shade, one or the other, or many.  
-
-Another important person to our street was Tommy.  Tommy also is African American, and he also was the first black police officer in our town.  He has looked out for the security of our street after hours, and made our street feel safe since before I remember.  Of course, Charlie is a big part of what makes our street what it is, and she happens to be German with African American family members.  
-
-Every person on this street, in some way, made this street a better place for us, even the drunks who reformed.
-
-May our responses to 45's terrorism be peaceful and respectful.  
-
-Amen.

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-I have been enjoying Alix Generous, an outspoken woman with Aspergers, and advocate for neurodiversity, science, and unique minds.  She has an incredible sense of humor and I split a gut laughing at her TED talk.  I went to her website and found other videos and have been taking them one by one, slowly.  As I watch, I am certain I too am on the Autism spectrum.  It is interesting because I know that many women especially are misdiagnosed with another mental illness, like bipolar, when they possibly just have Aspergers.  I think in my case I probably do have a dual diagnosis, because medications have worked for me, or at least they keep me from the worst of the suffering. 
-
-But I am still feeling the disabling nature of mental illness.  I live in a world where I push myself to be like others, and that often means I pursue something outside of myself, like trying to go to graduate school or wanting to do something that I can tell others I have done, like taking a surfing workshop in San Diego.  The thing is, I really am just barely getting along/by much of the time.  I am just holding my head above water.  These attempts "out" or at proving myself are really self defeating.  Looking into intentional communities in Missouri, planning to intern with my friend in her homestead in the Ozarks, no matter how noble the cause, my plans are too much.  I am best if I just "am disabled" and stay in Bristol.  The best thing I can do for me is to swim every day at the YMCA, do my chores religiously, be sure and walk the dogs each day, and relax on the front porch as a meditative ritual. 
-
-If I stretch my pennies, I almost can make it work out with the pennies that I stretch.  The disability check is not much, but all of these pursuits that I conventionally have been trying for to try to be more worthy are making me less happy.  I am the same person no matter what I do.  I could climb Kilimanjaro but I would still be me.  I could not climb anything and I would once again be the same person I was when I started.  Proving myself, living up to a standard I have in my mind of success based on able bodied people I know is not worth my time. 
-
-I can write.  I write.  I can meditate.  I mediate.  I can swim.  I swim.  I can do silly art that rare kind people adore.  I do art.  I also can do art that sits in a folder and collects dust.  I do. 
-
-This that I am telling you is what I need to tell myself.  You are the kind of person who draws that out of someone, so you should be proud.  I am going to write a version of this and post it all over my house, in front of my computer where I often "surf" plane tickets and get away plans. 
-
-I'll put one on my mirror too.  Here is the whole point.  We don't escape here.  If we dig our heals into what and who we are, into where we are, if we settle in and sometimes just settle, we stop fighting and peace wins.  If peace wins in us than we do become the joyful person we really wanted in the first place.

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-<br>When I lived in the rainforest</br>
-<br>I learned so many birds.</br>
-<br>I loved the call of the bell bird</br>
-<br>the grace of the Mott Mott.</br>
-<br>The diversity of hummingbirds</br>
-<br>and how the quetzal</br>
-<br>showed themselves to me</br>
-<br>of rare resplendence.</br>
-<br>I saw fields of parrots</br>
-<br>migrating above</br>
-<br>and was lured by how</br> 
-<br>they spoke together.</br>
-
-<br>But none of the birds</br>
-<br>were anything</br>
-<br>like the common grackle.</br>
-<br>Banded by scientists</br>
-<br>for study.</br>
-<br>I watched them</br>
-<br>poke their beaks</br>
-<br>at the itchy bands.</br>
-<br>Their wilderness interrupted.</br>
-
-<br>And maybe it was for true reasons.</br>
-<br>Maybe there was good intent.</br>
-<br>It did not drive them crazy.</br>
-
-<br>Yes, they carried this plastic.</br>
-<br>Nonperishable.</br>
-<br>In a flight no human will master.</br>

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-<br>I am experiencing</br>
-<br>the ebbs and flows of</br>
-<br>a thunder storm.</br>
-<br>A body</br>
-<br>of water</br>
-<br>dripping and plopping</br>
-<br>down.</br>
-
-<br>I am witnessing this storm</br>
-<br>with my</br> 
-<br>two ears.</br>
-<br>The rumbling thunder,</br>
-<br>the cars passing</br>
-<br>through puddles,</br>
-<br>the cheerful birds.</br>
-
-<br>It has been raining</br> 
-<br>in spurts.</br>
-<br>The last one wet the grass,</br>
-<br>made muddy</br>
-<br>patches in the side yard.</br>
-<br>I know.</br>  
-<br>I dived down the side yard</br>
-<br>on my way from there</br>
-<br>to here.</br>
-
-<br>And when I found myself alive</br>
-<br>though in pain</br>
-<br>and bloody</br>
-<br>I found myself laughing</br>
-<br>before I could think of anything</br>
-<br>as trivial as blood.</br>
-
-<br>Falling on my nose,</br>
-<br>doing a graceful,</br>
-<br>though quite accidental</br> 
-<br>swan dive</br> 
-<br>down the bank in the side yard</br>
-<br>reminded me</br> 
-<br>more than anything else</br>
-<br>of my age.</br>
-
-<br>Age really is something.</br>
-<br>I know because</br>
-<br>recently I asked my brother</br>
-<br>what happened to make</br> 
-<br>him so kind lately.</br>
-<br>Is there something new?</br>
-<br>Or newsworthy?</br>
-<br>He just said he is older.</br>
-
-<br>I know the feeling.</br>
-<br>I know how it was</br>
-<br>when I could catch a fall</br>
-<br>and turn it into a gymnastics stunt</br>
-<br>or thud on my butt with great intention.</br>
-
-<br>Rain is so fleeting.</br>
-<br>Everything passes with time.</br>
-<br>There is not a single thing that is permanent.</br>
-<br>So I don't go praying for dry land.</br>
-<br>I just re-pot my peppers and tomatoes</br>
-<br>and if I pray</br>
-<br>I let that planting motion be my prayer.</br>
-
-
-
-[[!img rainscarce.JPG align="right" size="300x" alt=""]]

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+Everyone seems to have an opinion lately on suicide.  As a friend pointed out, many of these people look away on a daily basis regarding mental illness.  Personally I think we all struggle these days, but it definitely is more extreme for some of us, like me.  But it is so layered and complicated, even that statement, because I am not just an ill person, I am someone who meditates regularly, complies with treatment protocol, and quite often am happy.  I am no one thing, happy or sat, sick or well.  I am all of these things.  And in that is the human condition.  It is all of us.  I happen to speak out regularly about my illness, but I firmly am convinced I will never kill myself.  I think the ones who are most vulnerable of that are the ones who never admit mental illness or reach for help.
+
+[[!img beachflowers.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+
+[[!img f0271467.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]
+

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 It was 2006 when I last went with my family to the beach.  Since then I spent a couple moments on Ocracoke on a solo trip in 2012, I think.  My family goes every year and it can be a really sore subject for all of us.  I hope I can get to the ocean this year.  My fingers are crossed.
+
+
+[[!img 2006.jpg align="right" size="400x" alt=""]]

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+It was 2006 when I last went with my family to the beach.  Since then I spent a couple moments on Ocracoke on a solo trip in 2012, I think.  My family goes every year and it can be a really sore subject for all of us.  I hope I can get to the ocean this year.  My fingers are crossed.

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diff --git a/posts/My_dog_is_a_gardener.mdwn b/posts/My_dog_is_a_gardener.mdwn
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+My dog is a gardener, a cleaner, industrious licker, a nuzzler, healer.
+My dog is a runner, a skipper, little hole burrower, nester, nestler.
+My dog is the size of a football, and easily punted.
+She comes when I call her, except when she doesn't want to.

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-Contents may embarrass the weak of stomach.
-
-Last night, between long dreams, I wonder if this pain in my rectum could be cancer.  It's interesting how when I have constipation, anxiety is high, just as diarrhea makes me exhausted.  These are just some subjects I might run by a therapist or my Mother.  But, I tell myself, I must not burden Mom with these matters, even if it is the worst possible thing.  I owe my sister Anna unobstructed "use" of my Mother since after all Anna lives far from Mom and I usually "get" her whenever I want.
-
-Interesting is the plight of dogs.  And too, their bowel movements.  Sometimes so in sync with their humans.
-
-The reason cancer came up, I think, is because two neighbors suffered that horrible type of cancer.  One survived.  One died.  But me, usually a person to fight for my life against all costs, lay in bed considering myself a goner, because I know I am not willing to undergo cancer treatment, due to what suffering it costs people.  It is a peculiar glitch in my general belief system.   So pro me living, usually.
-
-Meanwhile, little sympathetic Brazen quit eating her kibbles and only pooped a little on her morning walk.
-
-Skip ahead to the happy part.  I've talked to the doctor, my tireless sister, Dani, who compassionately answered my questions that I had lost drive to utter, and in the process convinced me that what I feel is just hemorrhoids, not easy but not going to cause my ultimate demise.  Skip most of tonight's dog walk, where Tobin went deeper into the woods of the cemetery, and I had to go to extreme measures to extract him.  Skip Brazen's not pooping (because she is refusing food since Mom is gone.)
-
-Snap off the last broccoli plant.  Early transparent apples are landing in the yard.  Pick them up in hands almost too small.  Now take outside the dog food on to the front porch where munching is done of human and dog food for Brazen.  
-
-Something occurs when there is someone present to make happy (little dog) that makes everything worth the fight again.
-

diff --git a/posts/Hemmorhoids_and_the_Human_Condition.mdwn b/posts/Hemmorhoids_and_the_Human_Condition.mdwn
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..4edf672
--- /dev/null
+++ b/posts/Hemmorhoids_and_the_Human_Condition.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1,16 @@
+Contents may embarrass the weak of stomach.
+
+Last night, between long dreams, I wonder if this pain in my rectum could be cancer.  It's interesting how when I have constipation, anxiety is high, just as diarrhea makes me exhausted.  These are just some subjects I might run by a therapist or my Mother.  But, I tell myself, I must not burden Mom with these matters, even if it is the worst possible thing.  I owe my sister Anna unobstructed "use" of my Mother since after all Anna lives far from Mom and I usually "get" her whenever I want.
+
+Interesting is the plight of dogs.  And too, their bowel movements.  Sometimes so in sync with their humans.
+
+The reason cancer came up, I think, is because two neighbors suffered that horrible type of cancer.  One survived.  One died.  But me, usually a person to fight for my life against all costs, lay in bed considering myself a goner, because I know I am not willing to undergo cancer treatment, due to what suffering it costs people.  It is a peculiar glitch in my general belief system.   So pro me living, usually.
+
+Meanwhile, little sympathetic Brazen quit eating her kibbles and only pooped a little on her morning walk.
+
+Skip ahead to the happy part.  I've talked to the doctor, my tireless sister, Dani, who compassionately answered my questions that I had lost drive to utter, and in the process convinced me that what I feel is just hemorrhoids, not easy but not going to cause my ultimate demise.  Skip most of tonight's dog walk, where Tobin went deeper into the woods of the cemetery, and I had to go to extreme measures to extract him.  Skip Brazen's not pooping (because she is refusing food since Mom is gone.)
+
+Snap off the last broccoli plant.  Early transparent apples are landing in the yard.  Pick them up in hands almost too small.  Now take outside the dog food on to the front porch where munching is done of human and dog food for Brazen.  
+
+Something occurs when there is someone present to make happy (little dog) that makes everything worth the fight again.
+

diff --git a/posts/Adrift:__Reviewing_Shailene_Woodley_the_Heroic_Actress.mdwn b/posts/Adrift:__Reviewing_Shailene_Woodley_the_Heroic_Actress.mdwn
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+++ b/posts/Adrift:__Reviewing_Shailene_Woodley_the_Heroic_Actress.mdwn
@@ -0,0 +1 @@
+First it takes an a woman on the front lines, an activist in the Dakota Access Pipeline defending sacred Indian land and water itself.  She comes into my mental view and I like what I see, a mixture of a courageous international traveler vagabond chick from college I know, myself, and every woman who has ever had to lift her voice up above what limits she knew she had to say something important, because somebody's life depends on it.  Shailene is an incredible person because she is a climate activist.  Maybe feminism is a word too old for her, and that's okay, because Shailene has something about her that is special and worth listening to.  It is why I went into that giant thunderstorm with her on a big scary boat (on the big screen) because I respect and admire this actress more than any I have ever seen.  I have a weird feeling I might meet her someday.  I guess that is one good motivation or incentive to be or become a climate activist ASAP.  I can't say much more because I don't want to possibly give anything away.  But in Adrift, Shailene's acting makes the story completely believable.  I hope all of my readers get to see it too.