Eyeshadow on my hand

Acupuncture is changing my life.  I'm sleeping better, getting up with a skippy step in the morning, and walking taller.  I look forward to Saturday mornings, to seeing Maura ('puncturer exraordinaire), and to the deep rest I get while those needles do what they do best:  Puncture. I'm not sure how it works or why, I'm just sure that it does.

Lifechange has been on my mind quite a bit lately.  Lifechange, like lifestyle, is a set of choices.  T-bone or salmon, heels or flats, truth or lie, live or die.  My biggest choices are those I make when no one is watching because its within the folds of time that are hidden from public view that define my character with a carving knife that is integrity and sand paper of grace.  Fine grit leaves the most lustrous finish.  Choices.  The sum of which is the whole.

So, while my choice to obey the mystery of acupuncture alters my posture, other lifechange creeps in and the spine of my soul unfurls.  I apply prayer in the morning along with eyeshadow.  My eyes are changed.  I pluck weeds from the earthy plot surrounding my home and excavate deep rooted fears and insecurities.  They slowly make it to the trash bin, sometimes sitting near the garage for a week, baking in the sun.  I wear gloves.  Daydreams and dreamstorms dance in the sky and rain down on my head.  Flat hair, still heart.

Lifechange happens in layers, with different shades, and requires different tools for different looks.  My eyeshadow goes on the same way.  Raw color on the top of my left hand.  Carefully selected tool in my right.  Pick up color, draw on, brush on, smudge, and blend.  When all the work is done, the top of my hand is stained with remnants of pigment that now frames my vision of the world.

Acupuncture leaves bruises sometimes, too.  There's one on my hand right now.  Change is a set of choices, a selection of colors, the embrace of mystery, and moments of satisfaction among the folds of time that wrap us in quiet moments that belong to the heart, bruises and all.

The only universal truth is bread

Bread is universal.  It represents family and comfort, fortune and blessings.  It's the art of peasants and princes alike, enjoyed no less by one than the other.  It's as old as grain itself and may be the answer to our quest for world peace.  Breaking bread with your neighbor is sure to break judgment and hostilities, too.

To celebrate the gift of bread and neighborly love, I'm taking up the art of bread making.  I'll bake breads from around the world whose histories are as interesting as the grains they are made of, as different as the festivals they accompany.  Generations of people, spanning every continent, climate, religion, and era have enjoyed bread alongside family and friends celebrating seasons, births, rights of passage, and blessings.  One could say that bread is, simply, common to the human experience.  And, who wouldn't want to get their hands dirty in such a powerful dough?

On being pescetarian

I love fish and veggies and fruits and so it seems obvious that I should be a pescetarian.  I know, it sounds weird, but it just means that I choose to eat things that grow from the Earth along with fish/seafood.  No red meat, foul, or "the other white meat".  Tonight is the first moment since my week-old decision was made, that I am authentically excited to identify with my new self-slapped-on label because it's forced me to think more creatively about food choices.
I made Perch with a peach/habanero glaze and veggies (lots of them) in a tomato base.  It's become a standard formula:  fish and veggies all dressed up in various spices.  Tonight's medley was really quite tasty.  I'd put it up against any steak and potato dish.  Choosing a meal low in energy concentration and high in nutritional quality is a step toward strength, balance, and physical freedom.  One meal at a time.

What brings you joy?

Joy is different than happiness.  Joy is slow burning while happiness is often experienced as a blazing wildfire, easy to extinguish with a shift of the winds.  I am warmed by joy from the inside out when I inhale the crisp ocean breeze under a sunset painted over the Pacific Ocean at the edge of Los Angeles, the cityscape faintly dancing behind me.  Joy swells up and radiates out of me when I fan the inner flame with fresh air borne of the Rocky Mountains.  I'm happy that I have the opportunity to be in these places again and again, to climb into those spaces and touch the waves and trees.  It's the blessing of joy, however, that lingers in the form of knowing Heaven is just ahead and the brilliance of color and light and peace consumed by our senses on Earth are only whispered hints of what is to come.

(Submitted to www.oprah.com by me.  If I get published, I won't have rights to my words, but they are mine and I'd like to share them here with you.  So, in the spirit of sharing thoughts and giving up the royalties, what brings YOU joy?  I'd like to know.  Promise I won't sell your answer.)

"Customer service is closed."

Walmart is one of the most irritating experiences a person can have.  Well, that and dealing with the less-than-just justice system.  I'm so frustrated, I can't even write sensibly. Where is the justice in this world?  Does it exist or is it a fleeting idea, a notion built of utopia and faith in the mostly unrealized upstanding human spirit.

I wonder if Walmart would do a better job at managing the justice system so that it takes less time to find out if you're going to be victimized by the system intended to protect the innocent.  And, I suppose the courts and police and legislature might reduce the gross gaps in management style in local markets which Walmart can't seem to standardize.  They'll empower nearly anyone who will work the hours and who has put in their time, it appears, regardless of whether they actually have any leadership skills.  The government seems to really enjoy standards and lock-step classifications, stripping people of any individual latitude to make reasonable judgments and decisions for the sake of precedent and standards.  In both situations, I will quote a Walmart worker in a faded blue shirt:  "customer service is closed."  Ironic and uncanny.

It's frightening how unreasonable the law can be...police officers pumped up on false authority, court window clerks feeding on hallow tenure, and lawyers who jump in bed together to siphon funds from people needing help.  It's infuriating how shoddy service can be at any random Walmart store run by people who paid their dues on the store floor but have no real clue how to create a positive retail experience.  Seriously, it's not brain surgery and yet both situations, paralyzing. 

Lately, the mantra that rings in my mind is simple:  "Be still and know that I am God."  Psalm 46:10

I suppose there's nothing better to marinade my thoughts in, no better anti-venom for the deep bite from a losing battle with injustice.  And, consider the monuments of injustice like wrongful imprisonment and reckless, random killings.  I can be thankful that the most unjust thing I experienced today was an unexpected, unfortunate waste of time at a Walmart store and not unsubstantiated imprisonment or senseless, random homicide.

Be still and know that I am God.  Be still.  And know.  That he...HE is God.