A week ago, the chemo curls were long enough to where I pulled out my hair product and accessories. I felt like a girl again. Less than a week ago, knowing the nightmare of watching my hair fall out and me too vain to have it shaved, I went in for the hip-grandma look of what is essential a female’s butch cut. This halted some of my joy. It halted some of my fantasy that I was a normal person again—like one who doesn’t live her life around cancer every day.
But one of the fledglings had a problem. There was something wrong with his leg. So he clung upside down with one foot and tried to feed on the suet
My skin turned scarlet, as people had already purchased the teeny-tiny print copy. I am sending them, free of charge, the corrected book.
Also weighing in on my self-publishing choice is time. I sense that my books are timed for right now and cannot sit in a stack of queries that may or may not get read, and if sold, then there’s up to a year (or longer) to actual publication.
We have a wide-open chance to find our connection with each other as opposed to our differences that mean nothing once the fires of fear have engulfed the middle path to knowledge, peace and interconnection.
Northern elephant seals (NES) are really more weird than most other marine mammals. They migrate from roughly the Bering Strait and the north Pacific twice a year to mostly California beaches mainland and islands, and northern Baja California islands. The topography of the beach must be just so. The first haul out is to shed their fur (and rest and regain their muscle tone); then they mosey on back to give birth and breed on the beach
John Bolton has never been one of my favorite characters. We are at philosophical odds. That said, upon reading his new book, I’ve developed a sense of respect for the man’s knowledge and better understand why he wears the feathers of a hawk as opposed to a dove.
The first inkling I had on this interconnected business was in 2004 when I was in treated for breast cancer. I told my oncologist that I was slipping out from Santa Fe, NM for a bit, and going to go hang out at the beach. The oncologist, who reminded me of a Norman Rockwell character of a doctor, said, “Excellent idea. The ocean is our primordial connection. But don’t get a sunburn!”
I knew little to nothing about shamanism. Actually, I held onto my Navajo friend’s perspective: what’s with the white people trying to be like the indigenous people? Come to find out, indigenous white folk in ancient Europe had their shamans. Really, it’s not unlike ritual prayer of today.
The Muse Pallet 