Well Being

Ice Age of Emotions on a Warming Planet

As seen in New Times SLO Once again this nation has discharged the looney-tunes world of uncompromising gun ownership. Meanwhile, the planet no longer politely speaks and now hands us looney-tune climate conditions.  Rude is rampant. Gun fanatics scream while Mother Earth kicks us like an old tin can.  I’m feeling like I might want to resurrect one of those bomb shelters from the early 1960s. I thought correlating guns and climate change was clever and original until I searched and found []

Embracing My Sensitivity

I discovered yesterday that my sensitivity to spoken  words is a weakness, a fault, and a chip on my shoulder. Admittedly, I’m a sensitive person.  I can cry watching car commercials.  Tears flood my eyes when I watch adorable pet videos on You Tube.  A beautifully worded poem will cost my box of tissue about 10 tissues.  When a soulful guitar solo wafts towards my ears, the whites of my eyes turn red and I sniffle through the song.  Yes, I’m a []

Rachel Carson’s Relevancy Fifty Years Later

I read Silent Spring in 1968. It changed my view of the natural world and was more than incidental in my personal growth.  Carson’s plea for moderation and close observance to what and how we walk upon this earth speaks louder today than it did 50 years ago.  Her opponents live on and rally against anything that smirks of environmentalism.  To my point of view their arguments remain shallow and manipulated.

Love Thy Neighbor. Seriously?

Love thy neighbor.  Oh boy!  I’d guess it’s a direct challenge by the task’s author.  The directive is akin to a parent’s demand, “Eat thy chicken gizzards.”  (My apologies to those who love eating chicken gizzards.) But as there are foods one cannot stomach, so there are “thy neighbors” that one cannot stomach.  Yet, we’re supposed to love them. Twelve years of parochial school education lingers in my concern about the divine directives. Today, one will not find gizzards or any kind []

My Catastrophic Molt

Seen also in The Cambrian A thousand or more northern elephant seals sprawled across the beach when I arrived for my volunteer docent duty yesterday.   These intrepid seals travelled about  2500 miles to this beach to lose their dead skin and old fur.  They must haul out  and remain on land for four weeks  in order to molt.  We call this shedding of the dead epidermis and old fur  a catastrophic molt. I posted myself at the very south end of the Piedras Blancas []

The Power of Post Menopausal Women

I’m still catching my breath after a vigorous walk with a woman who became my friend after seeking me out because, she explained, “I like your energy levels.”  I remain flattered.  I remain so because this woman, of the same generation as I, harbors so much energy that she could power up the lights on Main Street.   Another friend, soon to celebrate her 70th birthday, actively seeks a new career as a lifestyle model (code for a senior citizen model).   She []

They Eat Horses, Don’t They?

I’m a part-time vegetarian. That means I’m an omnivore but heavy on the herbivore side. In other words, my heart prefers non-meat foods, but my carnivorous soul requires consuming something with legs. It’s kind of gross when I think about it. It felt even more unpleasant when around last Thanksgiving President Obama legalized horse meat for human consumption. And the bill that legalized horse meat–soon to be featured at your local grocery store–was something both Democrats and Republicans agreed upon! Like the linked news []

429 Anti-Inflammatory Flames of Good

This floodgate of what I now call “sparks of light from the prism” amaze me. It is everywhere. I find good deeds in my newspaper’s letters to the editor, on Facebook, in books I’m given, and from random discoveries. A heightened awareness of good seems to foster more good. It also spins my Irish temper into an Irish toast. What would once have given me cause to jump all over some nincompoop now coerce me into smiles and humor.