It’s taken me awhile to learn that if I’m gonna offer the gift of my being, it means offering the fullness of the moment we are in!
What’s changed now is that much more of the time, I mean I’m a long way from being cooked, but much more of the time, when I am ‘here,’ this is it, I am here, and when I’m not here, I’m not here. It’s interesting how when you give another human being, your family, or your business, the fullness of your being at any moment, a little is enough; while when you give them half of it, because you’re time binding with your mind, there’s never enough. You begin to hear the secret, that being fully in the present moment is the greatest gift you can give to each situation. #Ram Dass
The male gator, nicknamed ‘Chance the Snapper,’ was first spotted in the Humboldt Park lagoon about a week ago. After local enthusiasts tried and failed to trap the reptile, Frank Robb arrived from St. Augustine on Sunday. By early Tuesday, he had caught the 5 foot 3 inch animal using something that even cartoon alligators know to avoid: a fishing pole.
I found this article on depression that is absolutely…right on! I struggle with generalized anxiety disorder. I struggle with OCD. I struggle with severe arthritis. I struggle!
Plain and simple, we, 90 percent of us…struggle. And the more open and honest we are with our ‘recovery’ process…the better we are understood!
When I’m squinting because “my contacts are bothering me,” I’m truly holding back the tears that could burst out at any moment. If you’re going to invoke tears, please have your shoulder ready for me to cry on. I don’t cry in front of people – if I cry in front of you, I’m truly hurting and you are trusted beyond reason.
When I ask you to reassure me of the truth I already know, I am struggling to distinguish between the truth and the lies in my head – I just need another voice to interrupt the internal dialogue and confirm what is the truth. I’m not stupid or wanting reassurance out of attention-seeking motivations. Genuinely, I need another voice to confirm the rationales I typically hold as true. I struggle to maintain these during rough episodes.
When I say I’m always sad, that doesn’t mean I’m never happy – it just means there is always an underlying blanket of angst beneath everything. No matter what the circumstances. Life could be beautiful and I still struggle with that cloud of depression. There are happy moments. There are sad moments. There are exciting moments. But – at the end of the day, I have to fight the wave of hopelessness and turmoil that attempts to engulf me.
When I say “I’m trying,” I am saying I am doing all I can to get better. I am doing every single thing I can. It’s a painful process and chronic condition. It’s not perfect. I am working toward progress. Taking medicine is a scary step – side effects can be awful. Finding a medicine that works can be even scarier. Counseling can be awkward. Finding the right counselor can be even more awkward. Trying not to cause financial stress while seeking medical and psychological relief is near impossible. Trying to maintain relationships that last during all of this is difficult. I am wholeheartedly trying. Please don’t underestimate that.
I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I don’t want to be this way. I want to be healed. I want my mind to be cleared. This thorn in my flesh is too much to handle most days. This thorn has me unappealing to many for friendship or romance. And that’s OK – just know I am not even slightly OK with not being OK. I recognize this is the state I am in and I have been fighting against it every day. I struggle daily – and it is not because I haven’t attempted to shine a light on this darkness.
Editor’s note: Please see a doctor before starting or stopping a medication.
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Adopting a pet saves a life. Not only four legged lives but your own life. Let’s face it having a furry friend in our lives makes us nicer, altruistic…persons.
Pets are great for photo bombs.
Pets allow for us to be less self absorbed. Never mind, with the love of a good pet…humans do well psychologically. Which in turn, should cut down on therapy sessions and less Xanax.
You are never alone with an adopted dog. You are always alone, minus brief moments, with an adopted cat. Still you take what you can get.
Adoption is not only the ‘in’ thing to do. You will be the envy of all your hip friends…and, they in turn will want to adopt.
There are inhumane breeders out there totting ‘pedigrees.’ Such places are commonly known as, puppy mills. Puppy mills stack crate upon crate with puppies. These crates typically are not cleaned and the animals fight for survival and food. Just think of the good karma and positive energy you will receive by giving back to your local community.
I grew up with my parent’s pedigrees, Airedales, from private breeders that wanted a boat load of money. And, though I appreciate having always had a four legged friend around…these dogs had many medical and psychological issues. I loved each and every childhood pet. Yet, when I became an adult and managed an animal shelter….I never looked back to ‘buying’ a pet. Their soulful, earnest look, can never be replaced with money.
Until one has loved an animal, a part of one’s soul remains unawakened. –Anatole France
The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.
Though my travels into the woods are sometimes limited. They are not limited to small country…no homelessness. Though I wander unto roads less traveled. Some have traveled there before me. Some are just seeking refuge from an uncaring world.
Homeless in the Woods
A somber reality in the second most forested state Abraham Ames June 23, 2019 Land ConservationVolunteers Homeless campsite in the woods in Concord Conservation meets a harsh reality of modern society with the discovery of a homeless campsite in the woods in Concord. Abraham Ames/Forest Society Photo. One thing I love about working for the Society for the Protection of New Hampshire Forests (Forest Society) is the variety of situations that I encounter. As a conservation easement steward, I spend a lot of time in the woods or behind a computer screen, but I never know what to expect. It’s great when a problem comes along with a nice clear answer, but it often falls somewhere between black and white.
One issue I didn’t expect to engage with as a conservationist is homelessness. It might seem like a big city problem, but it’s right here in small-town New Hampshire. I’ve been surprised at what’s tucked away just out of sight.
My job as a steward takes me to many such places that the Forest Society conserves on behalf of private landowners who voluntarily give up certain rights to develop their land. In order to ensure their fields or forests remain protected as open space, landowners work with land trusts like the Forest Society who require stewards to monitor the lands and document any misuse.
One property in particular is closer to your backyard than you might think — in the middle of Concord, but tucked away just enough to be tempting to someone looking for a discreet place to camp. It might be one thing if someone stayed for one night and practiced Leave No Trace, but the volume of trash I observed being left behind decidedly pushed this situation out of the gray and into a problem that needed solving.
For this conserved land, camping and trash dumping are considered violations of the conservation agreement between the private landowner and the Forest Society. At the request of the landowner, my co-workers and I arranged a volunteer work day to clean this area up and resolve the violation.
It’s easy to be unsympathetic when all you see is the mess that’s left behind. But it was not lost on us that this space was filling a societal need—one which people don’t want to see, much less acknowledge its magnitude. Our clean-up day would get us up close and personal with problems which are all too often swept under the carpet.
Half of what we cleaned up were things often dumped in places off the beaten path: beer cans, soaking wet sleeping bags, torn-up tarps and tents. Yet, the fresher campsites told a different story.
The first truly somber moment was at a site I’d found already abandoned just a few weeks before. In the time since, the tents’ contents had been scattered about. But these weren’t the personal effects you might expect. These items once belonged to a respectable young person. They were things that any young adult might stuff into a backpack — Twilight novels, art supplies, coloring books of ornate animals, Celtic knots, professional looking clothes, paperwork for a driver’s license, makeup and Burt’s Bees lip balm — all strewn about the forest floor and slowly becoming one with the leaf litter.
Each item was a trapping of a responsible, ordinary person. I could tell this hit home for more of my colleagues that day than just me.
“This is kind of depressing isn’t it?” I said.
“This is definitely depressing,” replied a volunteer helping out for the day.
Who was this person? What happened? Where are they now?
The mood changed. We’d gone there to clean up a piece of nature, but there we were, bagging up someone’s life. Any pragmatic apathy we’d brought with us was gone. Unfortunately, as we learned one bag at a time, this person’s situation was not unique.
A homeless campsite in the woods in Concord
New Hampshire is the second most forested state in the United States (behind Maine). Forests occupy 81%, or 4.8 million acres, of the state. Source: NH Division of Forests and Lands
The last campsite was different. It was neat, thoughtfully constructed, and comprised high-quality camping gear. Its occupants did not have the landowner’s permission to camp, and were in an area marked “No Trespassing,” but they were going out of their way to be respectful. It was a nice, family-sized tent with a baby stroller tucked away in front. They had an expensive portable propane heater and cat food dish with fresh kibble. They’d taken the time to bring along their snowshoes. People had been there that morning. Here again, it looked like they had had to vacate an apartment with all they could carry to find a new place to sleep.
Our “get it done” attitude made us want to start tearing it down, but the kibble and outdoor recreation equipment gave us pause. We were looking at all that was left of someone’s stuff, and they were coming back. I didn’t want to be responsible for throwing away all the earthly possessions of someone down on their luck, much less leave them with nowhere to stay that night.
After talking it over, everyone agreed. For all we knew, they were at work and would be coming “home” cold and tired. We decided to leave a note, telling them that we’d cleaned the area, and would give them a week to vacate on their own terms.
We wrapped up the rest of the trash and headed out of the woods. The volunteer crew parted ways after a job well done, and I stayed behind to leave a note on our camper’s tent. Perhaps it was lucky that I had to walk back to my car for pen and paper.
As I turned back, composing the note in my head (“Which is friendlier: ‘Hi’ or ‘Hello’?”), I saw what looked like two bedraggled Appalachian Trail hikers pass by. I held back a moment and tried not to be obvious that I was watching. They took the turn toward where we’d been working, and then disappeared down the trail we’d just cleaned out.
“OK, so this is good, right?” I thought as I considered my options. They had to be talked to, but it was too late for a nice anonymous note. What is the risk here? I didn’t think I’d be in danger, but I also wasn’t enthusiastic about giving these people an eviction notice—perhaps their second in a short time.
This was happening in the forest, but it was not my world. I called the police to see if there was anyone nearby and to get some advice. They strongly suggested that I hang tight and let them handle the confrontation. Officers arrived within a few minutes, and they apparently have the routine down. I was glad to see they were disinterested in hassling these people in any way. I didn’t want to feel responsible for any further misfortune in their lives.
They had a nice talk. They’d signed a lease and were moving into an apartment on Monday. They were very thankful that we hadn’t dismantled and bagged what was left of their lives. The police were glad that we were giving them time to relocate.
I breathed a sigh of relief. We’d made the right choice, to leave this violation be. I’ll have to go back and check on it soon. But I hope to find a nice, neat, empty space that people used for a short while to get their lives back on track.
Post Script: I visited the area a week later, glancing over my shoulder to see if anyone took notice. All evidence that they had been there was gone. Our campers clearly understood the tenets of Leave No Trace.
I’m grateful for the respect they showed for this land.
In the dancing shade of the morning pines
I go searching for her spirit.
Year upon years, this is my choice, by design.
Year upon years, full knowing her shine is something I will never find.
In the oddest of manner, her actions remind me of mother and her nature.
How an awkward summer breeze can bring the charm of relief.
With her hands flat against a wall,
cynically…always leery of the fall.
It is in her purposeful silence that she makes the greatest remark of all.
Arms wide open, her innocence so green.
Having sustained an ocean of gray…
Seemingly born to jump the waves.
These morning thoughts cannot be introduced to anyone but myself.
It is in her rare laugh that I, too, shine.
I am weathered with its glow.
Such as the unavoidable seasons.
In her earthy silent remarks…it is there I find reason.
When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed. ##Mr. Rogers
… over the course of a remarkable life and career, he evolved. From addiction to three decades of sobriety. From sordid escapades as a dealer and pimp to Disney soundtracks and the model for sleepy-eyed, jive-talking Muppet musician Dr. Teeth. From hometown outcast to one of its most outspoken advocates and beloved characters. read more at:https://www.theadvocate.com/new_orleans
Little by little our rights are being exported to other countries. Countries we, as Americans, touted as, backwater, backwoods and backwards. Pro Choice? Pro Life? Pro…Do the Next Right Thing…is ebbing away.
So, you take a woman’s right to choose away? So, you take gay rights away? So, you take the environment away? Bit by bit, little pieces of Me/US gone!
Detention without Provocation
Surveillance Society ( a rapid expansion of data collection, storage, tracking, and mining)
I am not prepping for ‘doomsday’ but…I am concerned about the state of living in America.
I have a cat that should have been an extra in ‘the Sixth Sense.’ She runs through the house on a daily basis, darting from shadow to shadow. Jumping at light beams that dance on the ceiling. And, once, she alerted me, by ducking down, low to the ground like a POW…to the fact that mirror-ball’s have mystical powers.
Therefore, the following, not necessarily the news, story…does not surprise me.
Have you ever felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up? Or maybe felt a strong presence near you? Your pet may feel and even see the same thing. As we’ve discovered, cats have very powerful eyesight. They can see in low lighting thanks, feline’s possessing six to eight times as many light-sensing rods as humans.
Recall a time when you noticed your cat staring tensely towards a seemingly empty space or spending a suspicious amount of time around one particular spot in the house.
It’s likely that your cat is sensitive to a concentrated amount of negative energy and is attempting to protect you and your home from possible infiltration by evil spirits and ghosts.
This is because cats bear a uniquely powerful aura, also known as an astral force, that works to repel negative energy.
It is possible that this negative energy remains left over from some traumatic experience in the past before you came to live in the home, or the entity could come from outside the home and try to force its way in.
The cat serves as a valuable line of defense for you and your loved ones by attempting to trap the evil spirit in its powerful energy field and lead it out of the house.
Be sure not to disturb your cat if you notice that it is purposefully wandering around your house.
Cats are skilled at discerning the intentions of astral entities and could be following some source of negative energy in the attempt to ambush it and remove it from your immediate environment if it senses a threatening aura.
My suggestion? Next time you are looking to rent a new apartment or perhaps, buy a new home…release the pussy!
People let me tell you ’bout my best friend He’s a warm hearted person who’ll love me ’til the end People let me tell you bout my best friend He’s a one boy cuddly toy, my up, my down, my pride and joy
A day at the dog park or rural trail can often poise a problem when encountering others with your dog/dogs:
Why does my dog hump? And, how can I get him to knock it the fuck off?
Like play fighting, play humping can be a completely normal and acceptable behavior between two dogs as long as it doesn’t upset one of the dogs. Some dogs play hump each other back and forth, and everyone is fine with it. Some dogs simply enjoy humping. Make sure to break it up if one of the dogs seems annoyed by the humping. Training may be useful in decreasing the frequency and intensity of play humping.
Sometimes it’s one intact dog humping a spayed or neutered dog. Females hump too, and it may or may not be sexual in nature. When a dog humps objects or people, it might be a form of masturbation. Having your dog neutered or spayed may help with the problem, but be aware that dogs may develop the habit of humping before they’re altered and continue it afterward.
Usually, however, dogs aren’t emulating mating behavior when they hump. Nonsexual arousal is more likely to provoke a dog to hump. It’s just a way for the dog to burn off energy or relieve stress. Some dogs bark, some run or jump, and others hump. This is normal for many dogs. If the behavior is frequent, training may help by redirecting your dog to another outlet for its excess energy.
Humping could be a sign of a urinary tract infection.
Neuter, neuter, neuter! This is a given! We are a lesbian household. Thus, every male has had a pediatric spay.
Catch the little shit in the act and shout, stop, down! Behave like the distressed and psychotic parent you are.
**Like that ever works
There are many embarrassing things I do…that I’m sure my dogs, secretly, abhor. Such as, calling them ‘sweetie’ in front of their friends at the dog park. Or, kissing them on the head in public.
My dogs hump! That’s right, I am the proud owner of humpy dogs. And, my own research explains exactly why dogs hump. Hump each other. Hump me. Hump other dogs. Hump strangers. Hump cows.
Dogs hump to get back at us, their so called, best friends.
Now those are some obscure scientist’s life long research thoughts. Research done with data, one on one observation and number crunching. All of which is just wonderful and nice. However, these scientists never owned a cat and does not wish to add personal thoughts.
I am not a scientist. I went to a liberal arts college. I have owned cats (or, I should say, they have owned me) for many, many, years. Here are my thoughts on why kittens and cats bite:
Cats bite us because we are intrusive.
Cats lash out at their one true love, the human, because the shitter is not immaculate.
Cats secretly sharpen their fangs at night…while we are asleep…for the simple reason…they want the upper hand.
Cats lash out when we poke the puppy ( a saying from my house of woes.)
Poking the puppy is a blanket term. To poke the puppy/cat/kitten…
The human witnesses their animal friend, sleeping, snoring, casually chasing a headless chipmunk. The human is so overwhelmed with the feline’s cuteness. So transfixed are the two legged buffoons. So in awe at the one and only chance to ‘spaz’ the cat out…the human lashes out…poking the cat in the belly.
Let us be honest here. Poking the puppy and/or cat is similar to Pavlov’s dog. A piece of sweetness is dangled in front of us. It is furry and purring and being the Cat god they are. Alas, the human will go back every time for a ‘poking’ because the untold results are just too adorable to pass up!
My analyst told me that I was…right out of my head. The way he described it? He said, I’d be better dead than live. I didn’t listen to his jive! I knew all along that he was all wrong. And, I knew that he thought I was crazy! But I’m not! My analyst told me that I was right out of my head! He said, I’d need treatment!
But I’m not that easily led! He said, I was the type that was most inclined… when out of his sight to be out of my mind! And he thought I was nuts…no more ifs or ands or buts. They say as a child, I appeared a little bit wild. With all my crazy ideas. But I knew what was happening. I knew I was a genius. What’s so strange when you know that you’re a wizard at three? I knew that this was meant to be. Now I heard little children were supposed to sleep tight. That’s why I got into the vodka one night. My parents got frantic, didn’t know what to do! But I saw some crazy scenes before I came to. Now do you think I was crazy? I may have been only three but I was swinging. They all laugh at angry young men. They all laugh at Edison. And also at Einstein. So why should I feel sorry, If they just couldn’t understand? The idiomatic logic that went on in my head. I had a brain…it was insane. Oh, they used to laugh at me when I refused to ride on all those double decker buses. All because there was no driver on the top. My analyst told me that, I was right out of my head.
But I said, dear doctor, I think that it’s you instead.
Because I have got a thing that’s unique and new. To prove it I’ll have the last laugh on you! ‘Cause instead of one head I got two! And you know…two heads are better than one.
Try to put well in practice what you already know; and in so doing, you will in good time, discover the hidden things which you now inquire about. Practice what you know, and it will help to make clear what now you do not know. (Rembrandt)
We have memorized America,
how it was born and who we have been and where.
In ceremonies and silence we say the words,
telling the stories, singing the old songs.
We like the places they take us. Mostly we do.
The great and all the anonymous dead are there.
We know the sound of all the sounds we brought.
The rich taste of it is on our tongues.
But where are we going to be, and why, and who?
The disenfranchised dead want to know.
We mean to be the people we meant to be,
to keep on going where we meant to go.
But how do we fashion the future? Who can say how
except in the minds of those who will call it Now?
The children. The children. And how does our garden grow?
With waving hands—oh, rarely in a row—
and flowering faces. And brambles, that we can no longer allow.
Who were many people coming together
cannot become one people falling apart.
Who dreamed for every child an even chance
cannot let luck alone turn doorknobs or not.
Whose law was never so much of the hand as the head
cannot let chaos make its way to the heart.
Who have seen learning struggle from teacher to child
cannot let ignorance spread itself like rot.
We know what we have done and what we have said,
and how we have grown, degree by slow degree,
believing ourselves toward all we have tried to become—
just and compassionate, equal, able, and free.
All this in the hands of children, eyes already set
on a land we never can visit—it isn’t there yet—
but looking through their eyes, we can see
what our long gift to them may come to be.
If we can truly remember, they will not forget.
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts