A Fate Worse Than Buttonwillow

I am, as always, excited to be on the road! Taking a trip to visit my closest friend in Scottsdale, who is there spending some time with her parents. Really can't wait to see her, but I really don't have a choice.

*Time to take a pout break*

Okay, I'm back. The first day/night of my trip was less than stellar, as you may have guessed from the title of my post. I am trapped in Buttonwillow, CA in an Econolodge, hemmed in with the thickest fog I have ever seen. Well, there might have been a few days on the East Coast that were similar, but this is definitely the thickest fog I've ever seen in California. How thick, I hear you asking? Here's a visual for you:

Last night the fog started encroaching about 50 miles outside of Los Angeles. I-5 South became virtually impassable, so I pulled into a rest area. Did I mention that my favorite thing about I-5 is the frequent rest stops? Well, it is. At any rate, a very large number of trucks were also stopped there, as well as a surprising number of cars. I parked, used the icy-cold women's bathroom (definitely a Cold-ilocks and the Three Brrrs kind of night) then settled in for a while. At one point I even reclined the driver's seat, pulled my red knit hat over my eyes and snoozed for close to an hour.

I waited for 2.5 hours for a let up in the fog, but--no surprise, I suppose--it just got thicker. I turned on my GPS and looked up Points of Interest, as in Hotels/Motels. Buttonwillow beckoned, only 1.6 miles away, with multiple motel choices. The Econolodge won my business because it was the least expensive.

Right now it's after 9 am and the fog has only partially relented. The photo above shows how thick the fog was at 8:45 am. It was twice as heavy at 7 am. According to my weather app, it should burn off by 10 am. The exact second it does, I am outta here!

Here's hoping my second day goes much better. May my progress be swift, my travels be safe, and my experiences delightful! Take care, and I wish the same for you, whether you are traveling for business or pleasure, to the store, or just through your life.

As always, thank you and bless you for reading to the end. Please feel free to comment if you are so moved.

~Warmth and Blessings~

Fulfilling a Promise

Some months back, I created a blog post in which I mentioned having a lover. His name is Randy, and I am very much in love with him.

As it turns out, he was not happy with the context in which he was mentioned in that previous post -- among other things. After we discussed the matter and I understood his point of view, I wrote a poem entitled, "What I Forgot to Say." After I shared it with Randy, I made him a promise to include that poem in the next post I did about he and I.

This is that post, and dear, sweet, magical Randy, these words and this poem are for you:

What I Forgot to Say

is how lucky I am
to have you in my life--
how infinitely, unreservedly
blessed.

What I forgot to say
is how deeply connected I feel
as I touch your hand, your face
gaze into your blue-green-hazel
and amazing eyes.

What I forgot to say
is Thank You.
I am so grateful
for your caring heart,
for the trust you've dredged
from forgotten depths, dusted off
and gifted me without condition.

What I forgot to say
is I Love You,
and though it's always there,
between and laced within
each line I write, I need
to say it aloud now, speak
write breathe and feel it,
engrave it on the air,
emboss it on my heart.

What I forgot to say
encompasses, no doubt,
many things.

What I will always remember
is how much you mean to me,
even if it is what I forget
to say.

Last Hours in Costa Rica

I've been hearing howly monkers (as I mistakenly said a few days ago, and have been calling them ever since) for hours, after waking at 4:30 am. Today we leave the Rich Coast, and for me it has been a magical, amazing -- and even a little bit mystical -- journey.

Breakfast will be served on the veranda of the main house of Nosara Bed & Breakfast in about 15 minutes, at 6:30, and the taxi arrives to trundle all of us writers and our luggage on our two-and-a-half-hour off to the Liberia Airport. Apparently in Costa Rica, International travelers must arrive at the airport three hours early, rather than the two hours required in the U.S.

I encountered bats, got up close and personal with howler monkeys, explored sea caves only accessible at zero tide, swam in the warm ocean, saw the famous green flash (see photo) and wrote many pages of poems, a few of prose, two songs and a series of comedy one liners about how to tell when it's way too freaking hot. I also greatly enjoyed the company of the other writers and drew inspiration and delight from their work.

I am sad to leave yet also happy to return home and see my lover, husband and friends. I know I'll also enjoy the MUCH cooler weather Oakland has in store tonight and for the rest of the winter. I'll leave you with a howly monker photo or two, as well as my list of one liners about the heat.

 You know it’s way too freaking hot when:

You break into a sweat parting your hair.

A cold shower has nothing to do with quelling your libido.

Opening your skull to put ice directly on your brain sounds like a fabulous idea.

Your sweat is sweating.

Your sweat glands have formed a union and are threatening to strike if you don’t give them time off.

You start writing strange stories about psychic, talking howler monkeys.

Sitting in one spot for hours then going to bed early sounds like your idea of a perfect Saturday night.

Your eyeballs feel like poached eggs.

 Wherever you travel, may you sink deeply in, find at least joy--if not transformation--have the time of your life and return safely.

Thanks for reading to the end. As always, comments are welcome.

Costa Eureka!

It's nearly 9 pm in Liberia, Costa Rica and I spent most of the day sleeping off what felt like the beginning of a head cold. My body feels tired and a bit achy still, though I can breathe just fine, and I've been eating. The lovely women who work in the kitchen here brought me my lunch on a tray. About an hour ago, two of my wonderful writing classmates brought me dinner. The food is delicious here! For lunch I had a salad and a hand-made corn tortilla with rice, veggies and black beans, plus a tall, cool glass of what I'm guessing was guava juice. Dinner was so generous I haven't finished it yet: four large plantain patties, a bowl of fish ceviche and a cabbage salad, plus a glass of what tastes like beet juice. Oh, and fried plantains (platanos) with honey (miel) for dessert! Delicioso!

I've taken some amazing photos, in large part because it's so gorgeous here that it's probably impossible to take a bad one. The one featured above is the shot I got of one of the howler monkeys. First time I'd seen one, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time AND have my camera! He moved so fast I was only able to get the one photo, yet I'm quite pleased with it.

Beauty abounds here, and yesterday we went on a two-hour plus walk through the Nosara Nature Preserve. I forgot my camera, which ended up being perfect because I wrote a poem about the experience called "Costa Eureka!" One of my favorite things is the variety of colors in every plant and flower. Here's a photo of some gorgeous pink hibiscus:

And here's a snippet from the poem I wrote after the nature walk:

I am not a nature poet, but

I’ll try to describe pale daybreak

warming to fiery gold, waves blue

white blue white lingeringly kissing

black volcanic sand.

I’ll try to paint for you the yellow

cream dun brown green gray

jungle floor, from which grows

the magnificent, murdering Strangler Fig,

snaking around another tree

until it is snugly held,

juiceless, dead.

I’ll do my best to convey the majesty

of the Rain Tree, draped in luxuriant

lace, yards and yards and yards pour

greenly down, and rustle with a rainy sound.

Thanks for reading all the way through. I'll post again soon, because I really want to share the photos I took on the beach yesterday evening, especially a series that captures the famous green flash!

Take care, and may you always know how much you matter.

Where the Monkeys Howl

It's almost 6 am in Liberia, Costa Rica. The Howler Monkeys are making mad music in the trees and the day is just starting to break. The temperature right now is 73, and during the day the forecast promises a high of 93.

Won't have any photos to share until later today. Whether I get to any more posts will depend on the iffy Internet access. I'll post as often as I'm able!

I'm generally not such an earlier riser, but I flew in yesterday on a red eye from San Francisco, with a change of planes in Houston. I feel asleep around 7:30 CR time last night, and woke up around 4 am. Breakfast is served at 7:30 am, and I'm guessing I'll feel hungry for it today.

I'm here with Clive Matson, my writing mentor, and three or four other participants for a writing retreat that promises to be amazing! The Pacific Ocean is just a hop and a skip away. Since CR is very close to the equator, I brought sunscreen and lots of white clothing.

Last night I took a cool shower while everyone else was at an impromptu Superbowl party. Best decision ever! The water felt like heaven on earth after the intense heat of the day, and a bit of peppermint soap added to the delight. I'll take another short shower before going to breakfast, so I can begin the day as fresh as possible.

Wherever you are and whatever you're doing, may you always remember how brightly you shine!

The Good, the Blad, and the Drugly

Thought I'd add a touch of holiday cheer

Yes, you read that post title correctly. I'm sitting at home with a bladder infection, popping over the counter remedies and drinking a magical health potion of lemon juice, stevia, tea tree oil, anise oil, orange, lemon, and grapefruit oils plus two drops of oregano oil. I also have a heating pad in my lap to assist with pain management. Have I mentioned how much I'd rather be going out tonight with my poet friend Clara to see two other friends, Don and Jeanne, feature at Sacred Grounds? Well, I would.

Yesterday was a little too much for me. I arrived at the Alameda post office on Shore Line Drive at 11 am on the dot to submit my passport application and have photos taken. The clerk behind the counter informed me that she "didn't touch the camera," so "no pictures on Tuesday." This when I had called ahead the previous Friday and the man who answered the phone said he would "make a note" that I also needed photos. Luckily there was a Big Name Drug Store nearby where I could have passport pics taken (for a few dollars less than at the USPS, I might add). Long story shorter, what might have taken 20 minutes ended up taking over an hour. Arrrgh!

After that I spent about four hours with my friend Cathy, receiving an amazing hypno-massage session and helping her with her book about her dad in trade.

I left at 4:30 and drove to the Lakeview branch of the Oakland Library, where I teach a free two-hour writing workshop one day each month (usually the fourth Tuesday). I'm including the first five months of dates at the end of this post, in case you're interested in writing with me, along with the times and address.

Did some shopping at Trader Joe's, which was in the neighborhood, then parked and skated into the library about a second after the bells in the church tower stopped ringing  6 pm (which is when the class begins).

After that I had a date with my other beloved. Yes, I am revealing it in this blog for the first time: I am polyamorous, which means (in my case) that I am happily married and also have a lover. My husband and sweetheart are each aware the other exists, and while they have yet to meet, each knows a fair amount about the other. My lover and I had a delightful time together, after which I arrived home around midnight.

All this activity proved too much for my poor bladder, which began painfully protesting somewhere around the middle of the day yesterday. I decided that taking the day off -- and perhaps tomorrow as well -- was the best course of action. As one of my teachers, Francesca, is fond of saying: "Even rest can be an action."

So, the Good: Both my divinely dishy sweethearts, who lovingly support me; my wonderful friends, who also lovingly support me; rest, relaxation, excellent self care and India Spice tea with coconut milk -- YUM! The Blad: my poor, sore, ouchy bladder who is protesting my uber-stressful schedule, along with the challenges always present for me during this season of ostensible joy and good cheer; and the Drugly: ibuprofen from the dollar store, over-the-counter pills from the "Feminine Care" aisle at the local drug store; my delicious potion, chock full of natural anti-virals and anti-bacterials. Oh, and loving support from myself  to myself, producing endorphins: the very best drugs of all!

Take super extra excellent care of yourselves this -- and every -- holiday season, as well as during every other season of the year.

Your comments are encouraged -- and welcome!

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

P.S. -- The Lakeview library is located at 550 El Embarcadero (between Grand and Lakeshore Avenues) near Lake Merritt in Oakland, and the writing group meets from 6 pm to 8 pm. Here are the dates through May 2013 (all Tuesdays):

January 29
February 26
March 26
April 23
May 14

Resting in Myself

I often feel that my life is composed of epiphanies strung together at times with soft threads of wool, at other times with sensual lines of silk, and too often with very thin, sharp bands of steel that cut into me regardless of which way I turn. I have been engaged for several months now in the process of removing the steel bands, because they hurt others as well as me and keep me from fully opening my heart.

Mysterious life delivered a message to me today, through another amazing soul in my Biodanza class with Zora. During our pre-class sharing circle, she described an experience that allowed her to "rest in herself." Those three seemingly simple words opened up a deep longing in me. Can I really do that? asked a very young part of me. Can I really rest in myself?

How do I explain this longing to those of you who do not live outside yourselves? I'm certain there are at least a few of you out there. Ever since I was very small, I've been trained to live outside myself; whatever is going on emotionally with other people is my job to monitor. I do it quite automatically, rarely resting in myself. As I write this, I feel it's no wonder I have trouble sleeping. I often stay up until dawn, reveling in the silence of psychic airwaves. Nearly everyone in my part of the world is asleep by about 3 am, making the time afterward uniquely my own -- time when I can rest outside myself, since that's where I usually am.

Now back to this new and intriguing concept: resting in myself. I thought I could already do it, and perhaps -- from time to time -- I can. My longing is quite specific, however: to know what it's like to rest in myself most of the time. As an empathic and strongly sensitive being, I spend a great deal of my day exhausted. What would my days look and feel like if I could keep more of my vitality and life energy for myself? Even when -- perhaps especially when -- I interact with others?

I don't know yet exactly what it's like; how could I? This is a relatively new idea for me. For the nonce I'm paying attention to the tenderness blossoming inside me, and the still, small voice that says yes, it is possible to rest in yourself. As I believe, so may I receive.

Thank you for reading to the end, and may you always know how deeply you touch the world.

Don't Stop Now

 This post was originally begun, I believe, in April 2012; this means that the week referred to in the first sentence happened about eight months ago. Today (inspired by a close friend's blog called Writing Shed) I read it through and decided to complete and post it. Enjoy!

Oh, my Goddess, what a week this has been -- and it's not even over! The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of positive change and profound personal growth. It all started when I decided to delve more deeply into my food addiction, which had begun causing health issues for me that I couldn't ignore. Silly me. I thought it was just about food; little did I know what lurked beneath.

Actually, it may have all started when I decided to have some professional photos taken by amazing, shamanic photographer Sharie Cohen (see one of them on the left), so I could get serious about my Shamanic Soul Work practice -- among other things. My income stream from freelance editing had pretty much disappeared, so I was looking for a new paying gig. Somewhere in that process, it occurred to me (cliche alert!) that I'm not getting any younger. So, why not make another bid to do the work my heart calls me to do -- when I'm not teaching writing workshops or otherwise working with words, that is.

I have a gift for listening deeply to others while holding them in a space of compassion without condition. My heart knows there is much unheeded and unhealed grief and pain in the world, and I long to help alleviate some of it. I've done this work with several of my friends, and I always feel the rightness of it afterward -- what one of my teachers calls "the big YES"!

As I was saying, I decided to have professional photos taken, and I believe that was when the Universe decided I was taking myself seriously enough for things to really start hopping. For example: I've had the following paid offers/opportunities over the last two weeks: two hours of computer work for a friend; two hours of editing work for a retired doctor in San Francisco (with more possible going forward); four hours of manual labor for a friend in Point Richmond. On top of all that, next week I'm meeting with a gentleman who saw my resume on Craig's List and
wants assistance creating a book of his poetry.

Oh, AND another friend may have editing work for me in a couple of months. On top of that, I'm participating in a hot flash study at UCSF, which pays a small honorarium as well. There's so much more, my head feels as though it's literally spinning.

Well, I can tell you that I began writing this post very much earlier this year; as of this present moment (6:09 pm PST on Wednesday, November 28, 2012) I am working regularly for the gentleman who saw my resume on Craig's List, earning a goodly sum each month. I stopped editing for the retired doctor, because his wife (whom I have no doubt is a lovely person) wanted me to work faster and save them money each time, something I could not guarantee -- and pressure under which I did not want to work.

The point of all this, or at least the explanation for the title of this post, is that I went out for Asian food and received a fortune from my cookie that consisted of three words: Don't Stop Now.

I remember looking at the small, white rectangle of paper printed in black with my mouth hanging open; I was amazed, flabbergasted and amused all at the same time! I had never before seen a fortune remotely like it, and I took it as a message from the Universe, encouraging me to continue in the same direction.

As to what was lurking beneath my food addiction, that turned out to be grief. Primarily I felt sadness and loss regarding my mother, who passed from this life on July 5, 1996. Grief for my family exists side by side, along with the struggle to forgive -- mostly myself.

I am still aware of my food addiction, especially this time of year. I'm pleased to report that this Thanksgiving, I had a single plate of food at a rather large gathering of friends, and it consisted of a few slices of turkey and a whole lot of greens! I admit I nibbled here and there before and after, but only on foods I know are healthy for me. To have a Thanksgiving go by and have it NOT focus primarily on food, is -- for me personally -- a true victory.

Thank you, my friend -- known or unknown -- for reading this far. I appreciate your kind regard.

Take care, and may you always remember how deeply you touch the world.

The Car of My Dreams and Gratitude List

It feels right at this juncture, with my trip nearly complete, to write a list of the things for which I'm grateful. I've had quite the adventure over the last few weeks, very different than expected, yet an adventure nonetheless. I've lost much and gained much as well. I'm a bit frazzled and feeling tender at times, yet the Universe feels in balance. That said, here's my list:

1) I am grateful to still be breathing and feeling (relatively) sane.

2) I'm grateful for my beloved, who's a financial whiz, hot sexy hunk of manflesh and all around amazing being.

3) I'm grateful we've been together so long. This is year number 29, and going strong!

4) I'm grateful for all my friends, who have no idea how much they helped me over the last few weeks. Abundant blessings and may the Divine bestow Grace on you in every possible form!

5) I'm grateful for Texas roadside cafes that have better food than I ever thought possible (see photo below). I had grilled vegetables and tilapia at this one with homemade tartar sauce. YUM! Oh, and hitching posts in the parking lot were a very groovy detail, in my opinion.

6) I'm grateful to have driven off the Honda Pre-owned Vehicle lot in Austin in a gently-used, 2010 Prius -- a car I've dreamed about owning for many years!

7) I"m grateful for booking a hotel in Austin that happened to lie 2.6 miles from that city's only no-haggle Honda dealership. When I bought the Prius, they even showed me the car fax!

8) I'm grateful to have met Millicent Rogers, through the auspices of her museum in Taos, New Mexico. She was an amazing woman with a rare spirit and an eye for beauty who accomplished a great deal in her short life. Here are a few photos from the museum:

9) I'm grateful for my sense of humor.

10) I'm grateful for my resilience and strength of spirit.

11) I'm grateful to keep rediscovering my sense of adventure!

12) I'm grateful for the beauty Ive found everywhere I've been. Beauty in appearance, in spirit, in generosity -- in every way possible.

13) I'm grateful for Mary, a resident of Taos Pueblo who happened to lunch in the same tiny, hole-in-the-wall Mexican place as myself on the day we met. She told me of a life filled with travel and adventure, divorces and the death of her son. She also told me of her daughter, a world-famous maker of pottery with work displayed in museums, including Millicent's.

14) I'm grateful for my freedom to create, and for your desire to read these children that spring from my fertile mind.

Thank you for your kind and gentle attention, my friends. Take care, and may your weekend prove inspiring and delightful beyond all expectations!

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

Goodbye to My Wild Blue Honda -- and the Rest of My Trip

This trip has progressed very, very differently than I anticipated. As it turns out, I won't get to see New Orleans, Atlanta or St. Augustine. Nor will I visit Mobile, Little Rock or Oklahoma City on the way back.

My trusty steed of steel and glass and I must part company. The air conditioning system self destructed, apparently shooting metal fragments throughout its own components. Repairs are far too expensive to be worth the investment. Having it repaired feels like a bad risk, since I've been having one issue after another with it since December 2010. I never imagined I would say goodbye this soon, even so, and in Texas, of all places.

So I'm staying in Austin longer than originally scheduled. I consulted with my sweetie, and he recommends using the money that would have gone into repairs -- as well as seeing if my old car has a reasonable trade-in value -- as a down payment on a new car. After that, the expense of continuing my trip would prove too great for our bank account, so I'll head home from Austin next Wednesday. Hopefully in a new, reasonably priced car.

As you might guess, I'm disappointed that I must cut my trip short. I'm also grieving my car. As it turns out, my trip is less important to me than having transportation on a regular basis. This trip is a symbol of the freedom to do what I want when the mood takes me. Without a car, I could still do that, I suppose, but on a much more limited basis. At least I took a few photos of my faithful steed to remember it by. Here's one, taken at a rest stop somewhere along I-10 in Texas:
On the plus side, there are a few adventures I wanted to have on the way to Austin that I may stop and have on the way home. I never did see the Carlsbad Caverns, the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge in Taos or the Grand Canyon. I also wanted to do the Ghost Tour in Jerome, Arizona. All of those -- or even a few -- might prove possible on my return trip.

Even without seeing a lot of Austin, I've already had adventures aplenty in Texas. My blessings go out to Nick, my tow truck drive with a heart of gold. Such a gentleman, and delightful company. I would never have made it to my hotel in Austin without him. My blessings also go out to the three young men who will forever remain nameless -- since they never gave me their names -- who pushed my car to the Miller Creek RV Park just outside Johnson City, Texas. By the time I put my Honda in park and turned around, they were already running across Interstate 290 in the maddening Texas heat, back to their cars and their own adventures.

I do have transportation in Austin, having rented a red Dodge behemoth of some sort. It eats gas for breakfast, lunch and dinner and the best thing I can say about it is it's a nice color, it runs and has amazing brakes. Other than that, I dislike it -- probably because I miss my own car. A standard-size, bright red, gas guzzling vehicle cannot compare to my cool blue, compact, hybrid chariot.

Well, it's late -- at least according Texas time -- and I need to get a little more work done before I get to sleep. Take care, dear readers, and may you realize your own brilliance and shine like the stars you are.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

The Best Laid Plans (Two for the Price of One)

I can truthfully say that I very much wanted to visit the Grand Canyon a second time. I'm certain I'll do so at some point -- just not during this trip.

Yesterday was the day I had reserved for that particular brand of Grandness. I was asleep by 10 pm, and around 8 am. Unfortunately, however, I was anything but eager to drive the 80 plus miles to the South Rim. My body felt tired and achy, and lots of driving yesterday, prior to lots of driving today, just felt exhausting.

Instead of feeling disappointed, however, I decided to find out what was closer to the hotel in Flagstaff that might prove fun and entertaining. I ended up going to the Sunset Volcano National Monument and Wapatki National Monument. Both attractions are 20 miles apart, and for a mere $5, they were both mine for the day.

The lava beds were mightily impressive, yet my favorite part of the trip was still to come.

Lovely Quaking Aspen grew tenaciously in the rocky, black soil -- clearly still closer to lava chunks than true dirt.

After one stop to view the ancient lava beds, however, I decided to move on to the Wapatki ruins, but never made it. I saw a sign for the Wukoki ruins, and on impulse, turned left down the 2.5 mile road. After a few minutes, the ruin of an ancient Hopi big house hove into view. Wukoki is the the modern Hopi word for a large, multiple family dwelling.

As it turned out, I could hike a short trail to the ruins, and even climb up into and on them -- as long as I stayed judiciously on the trail. This, I was happy to do. How often have I had the chance in my lifetime to climb through the remains of a Hopi home from the 1120s? That would be never -- until now, of course. Along with these photos, I'm inspired to share my first poem of the trip, a road haiku -- or would that be road-ku? At any rate, here it is:

I see the whole sky.
Blue upon blue horizon.
For miles and miles, blue.

The ruin was unusual, because the dwelling had originally been three stories -- apparently a rare thing for Hopi architects to attempt. Three families lived in this house, and I had little difficulty imagining them there.

The view from the open plaza has likely changed somewhat in nearly 900 years, yet I'm guessing it was just as impressive then. How much have the mountains shrunk in all that time, I wonder?

At any rate, I'll leave you with a view of the whole structure -- or what's left now.

A few interesting occurrences during my trip so far: in Sedona, I stayed at the Days Inn in room 138. In Flagstaff, I stayed at the Rodeway Inn, also in room 138. No, I didn't request it, that's just the way it happened. I'm writing this from a Borders in Albuquerque, about two or three hours from Taos, where I'm staying at another Days Inn. Stay tuned for the room number!

On a more mundane note -- yet no less exciting to me -- my car has been performing brilliantly! I recorded 45.4 miles per gallon (mpg) on the trip to Mesa, Arizona, and 41. 3 mpg from Mesa to Sedona, then 40.3 mpg from Sedona to Jerome to Flagstaff to Navajo, Arizona. As I get higher (current elevation is 1 mile above sea level) I seem to lose mileage. I'm sure there's some scientific reason for that, but I don't know what it is.

Well, here's the final photo of the Wukoki ruin, for your viewing pleasure:

Take care, and may your travels prove blessed and your worries few.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

Life, Death, and the Road

Today I spent the day in Sedona with my closest friend. She drove up from Mesa to spend a few more hours with me before we part company for about a month. I've loved the time we've spent together, and I'm also eager to be off on my own -- just me and the open road!

I got a call this week from another dear friend, who told me her mother just passed away. She'd been anticipating "the call" for over a year. I spent time on the phone with her, letting her know I love her, and that I have some small understanding of her pain. I lost my mom in 1996, and the anniversary of her loss -- July 5 -- occurs at the end of my trip. I wish I could have been there to put my arms around my friend, and in my memory I grieve with her.

I got a call yesterday from my sweetie, who told me he found a new job after being laid off in February. I called back to congratulate him, enjoying the sound of his voice tinged with cautious optimism, wishing I could be there to celebrate and kiss him a time or 27 -- just for luck.

Even though I want to be there, and share joys and sorrows with people I love, I'm here, in Sedona, Arizona having an adventure all my own -- and I want to be here. The people I love are here with me, whether they know it or not. I'm guessing some of them do. Dear friends, all those of you who wanted me to pack you in my suitcase and take you along on my trip -- and you know who you are -- please call when you think of it, when there's a spare moment in your busy lives. The moments we share are precious to me, and you can join me on the road, wherever I happen to land, through the miracle of wireless radio waves.

If you don't have my number, email me and I'll send it. If you don't have my email, send me a message on Facebook. If a phone call feels challenging, send me an email. I really want to hear from you.

Tomorrow I'm off to Jerome, Arizona, which boasts a reputedly haunted hotel and wild west history, then on to Flagstaff, from where I plan to visit the Grand Canyon for the second time in my life. I'll stay in Flagstaff until Monday, so I can take in as much of that Grandness as possible before heading to Taos, New Mexico.

It's getting late, and I'd best get to bed. I've got a big day tomorrow, and checkout time is 11 am. If you feel so inclined, let me hear from you. It needn't be tomorrow, or even the next day. Whenever the fancy possesses you. And if it never does, worry not -- I still love and think the world of you.

Thanks for reading, and may bliss and brilliant inspiration find you wheresoever you go.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

Late Start

After a very late night on Thursday, I woke up shortly after 11 am Friday morning. Following the stressful two weeks preceding my trip -- losing my Dell laptop hard drive and all data thereon counting as just one stressor -- I allowed myself to get a late, slow, relaxed start. As it turned out, I left Oakland shortly after 5 pm.

Surprisingly, traffic on 580 East moved swiftly and I was well on my way by 6 pm, cruising down I-5 South toward LA listening to retro tunes -- Cream and the Beatles, for example. Speaking of cruising, I want to devote a few words of praise to one of the best darn inventions of the 20th Century: cruise control! By itself, a thing of beauty, and when combined with the benefits of a hybrid -- sheer perfection!

I've already traveled almost 300 miles, and still have a third of a tank to go. I expect my MPG will prove close to 50 for this leg of the trip! YEAH!

I also want to tell the story of arriving at the hotel just outside LA. I began seeking a hotel around 10:30 pm, keeping the faith and driving forward optimistically. My good cheer began to wane as my bladder expanded with each passing mile. I finally chose an exit around 11 pm and plunged into the wilds of LA's outskirts.

First, my GPS went temporarily insane. That's really the only way I can describe it. I pulled over to the side of the road and turned it on, searching for points of interest (spelled h-0-t-e-l-s) in the area. It listed the Kamaka Hotel, only 1 mile from my location. Just one hitch: the road on which it instructed me to turn left did not actually possess a left side. Instead of turning, therefore, I proceeded straight ahead. What happened next? Read on!

The GPS then performed a "route recalculation," instructing me to drive 5.9 miles and turn right on Sepulveda Boulevard. I proceeded to this location, growing more confused and panicked by the moment. I truly flipped my lid when I noticed that the destination toward which I was driving lay 28 miles away. Where was the momentarily possessed device taking me? I have NO idea. I stopped listening to it when I happened into a brightly lit area near the I-5 on ramp that boasted restaurants, gas stations and -- YES! God and Goddess be praised! -- hotels.

I chose the first likely looking, reasonably priced establishment I found. I signed in without incident -- bladder screaming for relief -- and then went in search of my room -- #100. "It's in the back," said the woman behind the counter. Oh, would that it had been so easy.

I walked out of the office and saw that the room number closest to where I had parked was 172, and the numbers descended heading away from that point. Being a logical, intelligent sort of person, I got in my car and headed around the corner. I passed the 160s, the 150s and 140s. I rounded another corner and passed the 130s and 120s. I rounded yet another corner -- coming in sight of the office once again -- and saw the 110s. I parked in what seemed a likely spot and walked over to where I guessed room 100 would be. Such folly to believe the world is logical!

I walked down the row of rooms to 101 -- and there the trail ended. Immediately around the corner was a staircase leading to the second floor. Further on lay the corner around which I once again found the 130s. Near the office, the room numbers were in the 160s. I walked in widening circles, shaking my head. Finally, being an intelligent sort of person, I went to the office again.

"Where is this room located?" I asked. "I can't find it. I found room 101, but room 100 doesn't appear anywhere nearby."

"Outside, around the corner," the woman said.

"I tried that," I said.

She came out and led me to the room, walking in the opposite direction from 101, back toward the rooms in the 170s, where I had originally been. And there it was -- Room 100 -- right around the corner, and conveniently located right next to (wait for it) Room 140!

At that point, I had to laugh. Oh, the adventure of life. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried!

Well, it's getting very late, and checkout time here, blessedly, is 12 noon. I'd like to get a few hours of sleep before getting on the road again tomorrow.

Thanks for reading, and may your worries prove few and rewards prove many!

Love, blessings, and good night.

I Want to Be in Belly Love

I've been having a challenging time the last couple of days, wrestling the demon of self-loathing. After all the years I've worked on boosting my self image and esteem, this bout took me completely by surprise.

On Sunday I went to a wonderful consignment shop and tried on a large number of clothing items. I ended up with three things that fit and looked good on me. I also left the dressing room with a serious case of the why doesn't my body look the way I wish it did blues.

I've had the excellent fortune to have very few of these bouts over the last several years, ever since I lost 80 lbs. on my current eating plan. I was shocked to realize on Sunday that I still see myself as huge. I really don't know what brought it all on, but I felt deeply envious of all the slender women in the shop that day. "Why," I asked myself, "don't I have cleavage and a tiny waist?" For many years, I've dressed in long dresses, skirts and pants, as well as in styles and cuts of fabric that "hide" certain offending body parts -- namely my round belly and thick legs.

Perhaps I felt that way because summer is fast approaching -- although with the rain and cold weather in the Bay Area today, you wouldn't know it. Leaving that aside, however, I sometimes feel wistful when warmer weather begins, wishing I could drape my body in tiny silk chemises and satin shorts with bikini tops.

Finding beautiful clothing is a challenge for me, and also an absolute necessity. I'm definitely the artful, sensitive type, and it delights me to express myself via my wardrobe. So I do, whenever possible.

The past few days, I've been diving deeply inward. That's how I discovered that part of me still hates my belly. So I've decided I want to be in belly love. In the face of no agreement, in the midst of a culture that constantly tells me, "Get skinny, because you're not worth anything unless you look a certain way," I am apologizing to my belly. She gives me so many wonderful things, and I fail to honor her on a regular basis.

This post is my official declaration of working toward deep and serious belly love. May we all fall madly in love with ourselves, because we all deserve love.

Blessings, and thanks for reading.

Incredible Gift

Our words are so important. What we say--or write--and how we say it can create healing or inflict pain. As a writer and editor, I make my living with words. I edit hundreds of articles each month for an online service, and do my best to help authors. Sometime I grumble, sometimes I complain. Even so, I always leave comments for the author praising their efforts and wishing them a lovely day or week. I try to personalize if I can, and write words that come from my heart.

Today I received an incredible gift: to know the effect of my words, and how much deeper it goes than I ever imagined. I received the following message from the editorial desk of the online service this morning, containing a message from an author who very much wanted to get in touch with the editor who left comments on a recent article. We edit anonymously, so it is likely this person will never know who I am. This author wrote the following (CE stands for copy editor):

I was wondering if the editorial team would please pass along my gratitude to a CE who edited my most recent article. This particular CE left the kindest note. My sister was killed in a car crash last month and I've been doing my best to write during this time. Of course the CE doesn't know this, but his/her comments made a complete stranger's day so much better. I'd love it if someone would please let this person know.

I wept at these words, at how blessed I am to receive such a gift; at how many times in my past I have wounded others with words; at how many opportunities for healing I might have missed; at my incredible good fortune that I get to keep learning, becoming ever more conscious. What I wrote is less important than its effect. I still want to share the words, in case someone else needs to hear them:

Great article, and a pleasure to edit! Thanks for all your work. Take care, and may the rest of your week prove wonderful beyond all expectations!

Thanks for reading, and may your weekend prove uplifting and fulfilling.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

The New Ford Focus, with Optional Lizard

Hawaii, Hawaii. Oh, how mixed are my feelings about you, reputed tropical paradise and tourist mecca. Right now I have bugs of various kinds crawling down my back, along my arms, up my legs, across my forehead, over my belly--well, you get the idea. And this is all happening after an application of Waikoloa Bob's Hawaiian botanical oil. There are moments when I believe I shall go quite mad, and end up a gibbering wild woman, cavorting through the jungles of Puna with a giant fly swatter cackling and calling out, "Come to momma, you little blood-sucking motherf***ers!"

Other than that, I'm fine! How are you?

Oh, wait, did I forget to tell you about the lizard in my car? I picked up a rental at Hilo Airport during my first week, because I realized it was folly to believe I could survive without one. Anyway, they gave me a very new Ford Focus, with only 4,000-plus miles on it. The lizard came later. He (or she--who can tell?) ended up in my car because I tried to save him from getting blown off my windshield. One day as I returned from filling the tank, I looked up and there was a little yellow lizard, perhaps two or three inches long, clinging for dear life to my front window. He tried to lift his head, and the air pressure pulled it back. Fearing for his neck, I pulled over to the side of the road and tried to coax him off the glass--and scared him right inside my car!

To make a long story a little shorter, at first he would crawl out of the air vent once in a while and pay me a visit. I haven't seen him, though, since decided to crawl up my leg one afternoon. I screamed like someone was trying to kill me and shook my leg quite hard. Last I saw of the little guy, he flew through the air a short distance. Not surprisingly, he hasn't poked his little yellow head out since.

I had quite an adventure with the ocean last week, too. I had no clue how powerful the sea is out here, and got bashed against some rocks by a giant wave. I went to the water on a ritual quest, seeking cleansing and transformation. I specifically sought to release what no longer serves me, and the injuries I received were perfect, since they are identical to ones inflicted on me frequently in childhood. Deep processing of past emotional pain ensued, and I realized I was finally ready to let go of some old ways of seeing the world--ways that no longer serve me in the life I've created. And that was just my morning. Later the same day, I decided to brave the black sand beach in Puna, along Kalapana-Kapoho Road. I give myself points for bravery, that's for sure--facing the sea twice in the same day.

I stood on the beach, feeling the waves wash over my legs and feet, believing I was safe because I was on a beach. Oh, how foolish I was then. Quite a large wave came and covered me. It knocked me off my feet, rushed up my nose, and started dragging me out to sea. I fought to stand upright, and as I did, my head whipped around to spy a truly enormous wave moments away! I threw myself forward, reaching my hands toward the beach as if I could anchor myself with handfuls of black sand. I was certain the wave was going to grab me, cover me, and carry me off and I would cease to be embodied on this gracious plane.

Yet Pele sent her priestess to my aid! A woman with long silver hair flying out behind her, and short white skirt whipping up to reveal her yoni and her long, tanned legs pumping ran to my rescue. She grabbed both my hands and helped me make it to the beach and solid sand before the second wave overtook me. I do not know her name, but I will never forget her. I hugged her and will forever think of her as Momma Pele.

I feel blessed to be alive, despite the aggravations of insects and all else that conspires to remind me I am theoretically in paradise.

Thank you for reading. Tomorrow I'll write about the rainbows, pan-fried ono, dear Darlene at the coffee shop in Pahoa, and other adventures. Take care, and may you appreciate all that you have.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~

Aloha, Mahalo, and Ahhhhh

Right now I'm sitting on the veranda at Kalani Retreat Center in Puna, on Kapolo-Kalapani Road, on what I'm told is the rainy side of the big island. Since it has rained every day I've been here, even if only briefly, I am a believer.

I can hear the sound of ocean, which is right across the street. I can also hear at least a dozen varieties of birds making music in the trees, and a strange music it is to my mainlander ears. I can see nothing beyond the tree trunk posts that hold up the veranda roof, except a lighted doorway off to my left. If I stare hard into the thick, living darkness I can just make out the slender ghost of a coconut palm's trunk.

Did I mention how beautiful it is here? I am settling in, enjoying myself immensely. Today I rented a car, an absolute necessity if I want to see more of the Big Island, including the volcanoes! Eeek! The thought makes me shiver in my shoes and quiver with delight at the same time. Here's a photo for you. Signs like these appear along Kapolo-Kalapani Road:

The others I've seen read "Appreciation" and "Self-Love." I may start a trend for this when I return to California. I feel uplifted each time I see these signs.

Another lovely thing about being here: the garden where we're staying. Oh, the garden! Two varieties and three flavors of peppers--Thai yellow and red, and Hawaiian red; fresh basil; fresh lemongrass; and curry leaves. All of these smell and taste divine. I made brown rice yesterday, flavored with a broth I made from all of the above, plus salt and filtered water. I also added fresh chopped basil, ghee, and ume plum vinegar. Oh, my Goddess! I was in culinary heaven! Here's a photo I especially like of the Hawaiian peppers:

Have I mentioned the kitty who has adopted me? I've dubbed her "Puna Puss," and she follows me hither and yon. Her meow is so deep she sounds like a bullfrog, and she's painfully skinny. Today I introduced her to the delights of sliced, roasted turkey, and she ate like a starving creature. My prayer is that she find someone to care for her after I'm gone. She always seems to be in the garden of the house where we're staying, and comes out to greet me each time I return. Everywhere I go, I seem to get adopted by a kitty. When I traveled to Mount Shasta two years ago, a snow white kitty moved into my little cabin with me, and I named him Shasta. I wrote a song about Mount Shasta, and he appears in the first stanza. Perhaps I shall write a song for Puna Puss as well. I feel the muse stirring within, but perhaps my first creation will be a poem for Pele. Here's a picture of Puna Puss:

Oh, and lest I forget, there are also the warm pools. I believe I talked about them in my last post. They are most magical. I had a thought to go tonight, but I'm on my own and a little afraid of the palpable jungle darkness. My friend traveled today to the other side of the island, and I elected to stay on this side. I did have him drop me off in Hilo, so I could rent the car I mentioned earlier. Then he drove off on his merry way and I went to get my toenails done. I love the color: Thank you very muchness red. Thank you very muchness, indeed. And on that note, I bid you good night, and sweet tropical dreams.

~Love and Blessings,
Selene~