Friday, June 30, 2006

Entergy Corporation and Keep America Beautiful Announce Partnership

For Immediate Release:
June 21, 2006
New Orleans, LA

...With more than 14,000 employees servicing 2.7 million utility customers, Entergy recognizes the
environmental impact it has in the communities where it operates.

“Keep America Beautiful is pleased that Entergy is supporting our goal of improving communities nationally by providing both financial support and its employees's volunteer participation. Our partnership is proof that Entergy puts its values into action.”
-
-G. Raymond Empson, president of Keep America Beautiful, Inc.

Yes, and more of that proof can be found in front of my house, where, thanks to a call from my neighbors, the good employees of Entergy found a 30% gas leak. (That's pretty substantial, judging from the intensity of the odor.) They've put Entergy's values into action by scattering ugly trash in the form of more than a dozen empty water bottles and sundry other detritus in and around the two big holes they dug today. (The photomontage only shows a few of them.)

And, in recognition of "the environmental impact it has in the communities where it operates," Entergy has left the gas leak exposed, free to flow without obstruction from the broken main. I'm afraid some poor, olfactory-impaired smoker is going to light up in front of the house and burst into flames. Knowing how things go around here these days, we'll probably be treated to the free gas fumes for several weeks before they show up again.

At the very least, I hope that once all the work is done, they'll return the site to nature, just as our wonderful Sewerage and Water Board has done at the corner of Spruce and Carrollton. This spot, with its flowing spring and crystal clear waters, has become a favorite of all of us in the neighborhood.

We refer to it as The Grotto. It's a great place to cool your heels after a long walk on a hot afternoon. It's surrounded on the west side by natural wetlands and on the east by beautiful sand dunes that meet the shore in a deep drop-off, making it perfect for diving. There's an easy boat launch on the north side, between the wetlands and the dunes, and a stony beach on the south where the water flows into a gentle stream.

This is one place that the neighborhood hopes the city will forget and continue to neglect (as they have for several months now), so we're concocting a story that we hope will encourage its preservation. The story is about a little girl who had a vision of a beautiful lady at that spot. The lady told the little girl about things that were to come, but the girl was told that she couldn't reveal those things until the lady reappeared again at the same spot and told her it was time. After that, a spring formed and it's been claimed the waters there have special healing powers. We'll call the place Rachel's Grotto and we'll build a church on the site and call it The Church of Our Lady of the Leak. I'll have prayer beads carved out of the trunk of the cedar tree that fell in my neighbors yard, (parts of which I have on my porch because they're neat-looking in a very funky sort of way), and I'll sell them in front of the church, along with blessed bottles of water and relics made of pieces of Rachel's old clothes.

Right now, the holes in front of my house look they might qualify as Superfund Sites. But if Entergy will turn over rehab of the holes to the Sewerage & Water Board, all the better. We'll just replicate the plan on Cohn Street and I won't have to travel the extra three blocks to hawk my goods.

Thursday, June 29, 2006

GABA GABA Hey!

Gama Amino Butyric Acid, Gama Amino Butyric Acid, Hey!

For as long as I can remember, I've been a night person. Oh, I've managed to stir up enough firing neurons in the morning hours to pass for some degree of cognitive presence, but really, it's all an act. Some members of the orchestra are lazily tuning up while others are roaming around backstage, lost. The symphony starts in the afternoon and goes on all night long.

During graduate school, I manically juggled single parenthood (my kids were aged three and eleven when I started), a business managing musicians/bands, and a 12 semester-hour grad-school schedule --three hours more than the recommended full-time load. Something had to give, and sleep turned out to be the most expendable thing on the list. (This eventually ended up having serious health consequences that have since resolved...I think...but that's another story.)

The quiet hours after midnight became my golden time. Bed time came around 2:00A M, then was pushed up to 3:00 AM, then 4:00 AM... give or take. This has gone on for so long that my body just gave up on the idea of sleep. It just doesn't seem to crave it anymore. I could stay up all night with no sweat whatsoever. I no longer know what it like to be so tired that you cannot keep your eyes open. I lay in bed, usually after 4:00 AM, and decide that I should turn the light off and at least try to sleep before it's time to schlep the kids off to wherever. After a few minutes, I suddenly realize that I'm clenching my jaws. It's not TMJ. I'm awake, just not relaxed.

Staying up until the pre-dawn hours has been a most difficult habit to break. I haven't succeeded so far, and it's been years now. Maybe I've failed because I really don't want to succeed badly enough. I admit that I like --no, I love the quiet of the wee hours. But I get a lot of flack for that. So I do try.

Since I don't have health insurance, I'm looking for a cheap solution. My latest attempt involves GABA, one of the key inhibitory neurotransmitters in the brain. I tried to find articles from reputable sources that would explain the role of GABA as it relates to sleep, anxiety, depression, and other such conditions, that wouldn't make your eyes glaze over (me, I like organic chemistry, but I seem to be among the few), but could find none that would accomplish that end. So, I'm reduced to using this bit from Ask an Expert on About.com:
Popularly referred to as the body's natural tranquilizer, GABA (gamma-aminobutyric acid) is an amino acid produced in the brain. It acts as a neurotransmitter--a chemical that fosters communication between nerve cells--and helps to keep stress-related nerve impulses at bay.

GABA supplements may help to ...
  • Promote sound sleep. GABA participates in promoting relaxation, which explains why many well-known anxiety medications--Valium among them--target GABA receptors in the brain. But unlike many prescription tranquilizers, GABA is not habit-forming. GABA itself does not cause drowsiness. Instead, by easing anxiety, it simply makes it easier to fall asleep.
  • Allay stress. GABA may be taken to calm the mind and body. In this respect, it is much like better-known prescription tranquilizers, such as Xanax and Valium, but doesn't carry the fear of addiction. Persistent stress may also contribute to depression, and some evidence suggests that GABA may have mood-elevating properties.
That, and more.

If you believe the hype, this blurb from a website selling nutritional supplements should get you pretty excited, particularly if you're trying to maintain your sanity while living in post-apocalyptic New Orleans: (Whoever wrote it needs to go back to school. Sic, sic, sic 'em.)
As a brain/body communicator, GABA balances our judgement and sequential thinking, so is useful with behavioral problems such as impulsive behavior, ADD, ADHD and conduct disorders. GABA is used for anxiety, overcoming emotional imbalance from grief or traumatic situations. Stressful times that leave us feeling overwhelmed, fatigued at work and yet worrying and restless at home and at bedtime need this important neurotransmitter. Take during the day for a more positive outlook on life. Take at night to stop nagging thoughts and worries for falling asleep faster. Get a good night sleep without a hang over feeling and enjoy more energy during the day.
Oh, howz it worling for me? Well, I'm not the best test case. Things that are supposed to calm you stimulate me. And vice versa. (Don't ever give me skullcap tea and expect me to sleep.) And the strangest thing is that even things like Ambien, which have worked for me as far as making me fall asleep, don't seem to kick in until around 4:00 AM, even if I take them at midnight. Then, I feel like it's still kicking when it's time to do the morning routine. I'll take a morning nap after the transportation job is done, but if I haven't taken Ambien, (and I usually don't take it), I don't feel sleepy once I'm up. That feeling never comes. But I'll make myself nap anyway, and I usually am able to fall asleep while the sun's up, with the help of an eye mask. (See that picture in the sidebar? That was taken about 2 years ago, and it depicts the truth.) In total, I'll get between 5-6 hours of sleep between my 2 sessions.

So, GABA taken with taurine seems to have little effect on me around the midnight hour. I'll still shut everything down around 4:30 AM and try to go to sleep, and maybe I'm not clenching my jaws, but I'll be sleepy all morning. Maybe on you normal folks, it would work well. If you try it, let me know.

I've got about a little less than 8 weeks before I'm employed again. In the past, my classes have always been in the afternoons and evenings, but if, by some miracle, UNO employs me full-time --my department chair said there was a slim possibility of this -- I will have classes beginning at 9:30 AM, and 12-hour days. (But only 2 days per week, so that's okay. And if you're unfamiliar with university faculty life, don't get the impression that I'll only work 24 hours a week for a full-time position, because those are just classroom and office hours. I'll spend as much or more time working at home preparing lectures and class activities and doing what I loathe most --grading.) For the sake of my possible-future-morning-students, say a little prayer that I find something that gets me back to a slightly, only slightly more traditional schedule.

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Attention Morons


My most gratifying moment of the day was delivered by Laureen over at the New Orleans Metroblog. The sign is posted at the corner of Esplanade and Claiborne. The bottom of the sign says "so is Metairie." I could kiss the person who made that sign. (And I imagine it's quite effective.)

Now, can someone put one on St. Charles Ave. that says:
Attention Morons: The speed limit on St. Charles Ave. is 35 mph, not 15 mph. The pedal on the right is an accelerator. Please use it more, and don't use the one on the left at every corner unless you're about to hit something. (Better still, just pull over and stay there until there's no one behind you.)

Or, make about 1000 of these and put them all over town:

Attention Morons: The proper time to use the turn signal is before you apply the brakes and begin making the turn, not after you've already rounded the corner.

Attention Morons: Even though you're making a left turn into the neutral ground, (maybe you call it a median), you still have to keep right.

Attention Morons: If a traffic signal light turns yellow when you're 20 feet from the intersection and traveling at the speed limit (or faster), don't hit the breaks -unless you want to be rear-ended by the four or five cars behind you who expect to be "making the light."

I have so many driving peeves in this city right now (and I had lots before the Great Labor Migration) that I could spend the rest of the night doing this and still not have exhausted my list.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

I Said It Was the True Nation-State of Surreality

Yesterday, this New Orleans CityBusiness article spread like wildfire through the New Orleans Blogosphere:
Transvestite Gang Pesters Magazine Street.

Between Adrastos, Suspect Device and DangerBlond I found the article's best quotes:

Sarah Celino at Trashy Diva eyes the door, ready to flip the lock at the first sight of the ringleader’s pink jumpsuit and fluorescent red wig....Next door at Winky's, Bonga heard people screaming inside Vegas, then saw a blur of cheap wigs and masculine legs in designer shoes streak past her door.

So, okay, it's crime. And we hate that. But, admit it, it's funny. Conjure up this surreal image in your mind and it plays like a John Waters film. (I'm thinking, Female Trouble.) And really, this kind of thing hardly registers as strange on the radar of us locals because if stuff like this is going to happen anywhere, it's going to happen here. Only in New Orleans. And that's why we love it here.

Loki, over at Humid City put it so well: Its that special kind of absurdity that seems to flourish in our subtropical environment, the almost psychedelic vision of heat induced dilirium. It is a moment that makes you realize that you are home after all. Welcome to the Mirror Universe, kids!

Yes. Home, sweet wacky home. I love you!

Saturday, June 24, 2006

My House During the Flood


My House During the Flood
Originally uploaded by LisaPal.
This picture was taken of my house during the flood by my intrepid neighbor, Justin Winston. I believe that the water had receded by about 6"- 8" at this point. Among the pictures I'd hoped for but were missing from the set were pictures of people walking down the side street in the waste-high water, (yeah, I spelled it that way on purpose), and photos of a blackhawk helicopter flying and hovering and dropping cases of MREs from just above the trees and/or the remaining power lines. Justin reported that during one such operation up the street, the heavy crate bounced off the top of a car and hit the intended recipient, breaking his arm.

Friday, June 23, 2006

People, Get Ready!


B-Up Soda (with Lithium)
Originally uploaded by LisaPal.
In honor of the pervasive anxiety, depression, PTSD, the resurgence of violent crime and the return of the National Guard to New Orleans, I've resurrected my photo of this bottle of B-Up Soda (with Lithium), a local product circa 1948-49. Perhaps someone should start bottling this stuff again.

I sat down tonight for a midnight snack of some of the best gumbo my mom has ever made and to watch the second run of The Daily Show and The Colbert Report, only to see last night's post played out by Stephen Colbert and guest, Douglas Brinkley, author of The Great Deluge: Hurricane Katrina, New Orleans, and the Mississippi Gulf Coast. My part was played by Brinkley and Colbert played the part of the Katrina Fatigued American. Did they read my last post or am I having another post-solstice psychic solar flare? After all, it was one year ago today that I foretold of The Great Flood (even if I didn't realize it at the time.) And I'm still a little peeved that no one acknowledged this when I pointed it out on September 3, 2005! I want my props, dammit! Grrrrrr! Thank God a fellow blogger showed up in that dream or I wouldn't have posted it at all. So, thanks Kevin! Feel free to drop by in my Terre Des Reves anytime, particularly in advance of the Next Horror, but be sure to remind me to pay attention when I wake up with the vague feeling that there's a portent in there somewhere.

Moving right along...

In the last post, I mentioned the fine New Orleans bloggers who have been sustaining me for the better part of the last 10 months, in growing numbers. Well, I humbly genuflect to one of the finest, Schroeder of People Get Ready, who kindly featured my blog in this post, taking me from my average of 10 unique visitors not looking for sex games and slutware to a bona fide 99, many of whom not just visited, but actually spent lots of time reading. One person even appears to have read the whole thing, from beginning to end over a period of about 5 hours. (I don't know who you are, but I genuflect to you as well.) For the first time in ages, I don't feel like a phantom, roaming the earth unsure if I'm dead or alive and just invisible.

My request for today is simple. Here is a video that my fellow New Orleans bloggers linked to a long time ago but I refrained because I worried too much about your Katrina Fatigue.

This one comes from Kalypso, a 5th grader who wants you to know her city and what its been through. This video was uploaded in mid-March. Not much has changed. And if you peruse her dad's blog, you might notice that his story about a racked house sounds a lot like mine. And his house is even pink with white trim, like mine. When I saw the picture of the front door, I could have mistaken it for my house. The only difference is that he had flood waters inside and he's with All State and I'm with State Farm. He's gotten their engineer's report and verdict and I'm still waiting. I sure hope I end up with better news than he did, because I'm really not feeling up to a fight.



To all you folks who visited for the first time, if you're reading this, it means you came back, and for that I thank you. Let me know who you are and I'll link to you, too, as I'll be adding links frequently, as time permits. (And there are those of you who I have been reading but just haven't gotten around to linking to you yet. I'll get there.)

That's it for tonight, folks.

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Katrina Fatigue?

Well, yeah. We have it, too. The million-plus of us who have been living it every day since 9-29-05 in a way much more real than the rest of the world. We're tired of it all and wish every day that it would all just go away and things would be back the way they were before It happened.

I've been sitting on my hands and biting my tongue while I churn and burn inside looking at the world I'm living in. Not just New Orleans, but the whole of it. That's tough enough, but then I hear all about how much of the nation has Katrina Fatigue and worse, not just fatigue, but utter contempt for us and our needs and our sucking at the teat of the rest of the country's poor, innocent tax-payers who were far too smart to live in this risky city below sea level. Everyone's just so sick of hearing about it. Why don't we just stop whining, get off our asses, get to work and get on with out lives?

I don't know who all my readers are, but I do know those of you who have been around and who comment, and, of course, I know the people who are reading that I knew before blogs existed (because they used to live here, too.) With few exceptions, you all live elsewhere. And I know you don't fall into the insensitive category of folks who gleefully vilify us and this city at every opportunity. But it's been rather quiet over here, even when I've asked for your input. I do know that you all have been busy (many of you are not posting on your own blogs, either) but part of me (the overly sensitive and insecure part) does wonder if you have a touch of the fatigue, yourselves.

I have really restrained myself on this blog in the last few months. Heavily. One reason is that I think that the things on my mind are only interesting to my fellow New Orleanians. And they have been doing such an extraordinary job at shining the light on what's been going on here and at expressing the things that pound around in my head that I've felt completely fulfilled by reading what they're writing rather than writing anything myself. But the more time passes, the more I'm aware of this unfulfilled desire I have to know that those of you who have shown so much concern for me and my kids in the past do care still. Not so much about me, but about us- this incredibly unique and wonderful city and its people. Most of you don't even know what's at stake here. And it's so hard to convey without the experience of this place. Unfortunately, if you've never been here, you'll never know the city that it was -and will never be again. But there is still life here and with it, the chance that a lot of what was will return and, in typical New Orleans fashion, we'll take the horrors of Katrina and weave it into the fabric of our culture in a most fascinating way.

But right now, we are living an unimaginable life. And to borrow from Rod Serling, this other dimension that we've entered is not just of sight and sound (and smell) but of mind. And indeed, it all does its work on the mind. So, I'm going to acquiesce to this unrelenting urge I have and ask you to step outside your lives when you visit this blog and step into ours for a short time. After all, it happened to us, but something equally as devastating (or worse) could happen to any of you, anywhere. I'm going to go back in time and briefly deal with things I avoided addressing on this blog. I'm going to ask you to visit the blogs of other New Orleanians to whom I'll link in my posts, (but you can always visit on your own, as new links are being added to the sidebar all the time), who are doing such a fabulous job of painting a picture of life here. I'm ging to try to convey why New Orleans matters. And I'm probably going to ask you to comment from time to time. Just a little.

We've may have been abandoned by most of the rest of the world in many ways, but I really hope that there is at least one place that I can inhabit without feeling this way. Here.

Otherwise, it's sinn fein!

Here's request #1.
Read this article from the Washington Post.

And for this one, comments are turned off.

Thanks, and happy reading.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

Hooked on Freecycle

At some point last year, Richard posted a link for Freecycle on Electronic Ephemera. Freecycle is a site where people can offer items they want to get rid of to others, free for the taking. People can also request items they need, in case another member has that item forgotten in some closet or shed and is willing to part with it.

In post-Katrina New Orleans, Freecycle has been essential, not only because of the need that still exists for so many, but because the charitable organizations have been so inundated with donations since The Storm that they are not accepting donations. And since the storm, there have been a lot of reasons to give things away.

We evacuated New Orleans for Katrina with 5 days worth of summer clothes and not much else. Because we had so little with us when we reached Virginia, we had to get clothes and then household items for our apartment. We gave most of it away before we left, but we did take what we could fit in the car home with us, knowing there would be people here who needed it. Since we returned, we've been giving tons of things away to friends and neighbors who were affected by The Storm and to people who came here from other states to work with little more than their clothes and vehicles. (Like the Mexican guy who was living in the corner store with no electricity or running water while he worked on it, and the electrician who worked on my mom's house who came from California and was living in a small, unfurnished apartment with six other guys.) Once I ran out of people I knew who needed things, Freecycle was the answer.

So many of us are repairing and restoring our homes right now. I had to tear out my water-damaged kitchen cabinets, (with the attached counter) so today I Freecycled my old stainless steel kitchen sink, which was in decent condition but would stand out too much against the new stuff I'll have to get for the renovation. Someone responded within minutes of the time I posted it. As soon as I can get someone to help me move it, I'll do the same with the stove. People are giving away their salvaged and surplus building materials that cannot be returned. All my walls and ceilings have to come down (and even my chimney!!!) which means that the contents of the attic have to be removed. And there were tons of kid-related clothes and sundry items up there that were in good shape. We don't need them. Other people do. And they've snatched them up as fast as I could post them. He/she who responds first gets the stuff, but it seemed that secondary respondents were also pretty needy, so I began to coordinate donations from other sources so I could offer something to the second-wave, too. One of them has taken to calling my front porch drop-off and pick-up site the Uptown Goodwill. This may not be the most flattering designation for one's home, but I like it. (For now, anyway, because everything about my house is mighty funky these days. There is nothing home-like about it whatsoever.)

And then there's probably the most common reason that I think is prompting people to Freecycle like crazy right now. (And I probably think this because it's my biggest reason.) Like me, most everyone bugged out of here with only a few days worth of clothes and little else but the expectation that we'd be returning home within the week. In the months that followed, we really learned what we could and could not live without. Some were forced to learn this when they lost everything, but even those of us who were eventually able to return home to most, if not all of the possessions we had, came home with a new definition of value. And with this comes the urge to purge and to simplify our lives. (The less you have, the less you have to worry about losing.)

I'd had the urge to simplify before the storm, but it's overwhelming now. (And so is the task!!) And nothing feels better than finding people who need things and giving those things to them. I've managed to meet a few of the recipients in person and there has been something really special about that. We are technically strangers, but there's a bond between us all now. We've survived this great tragedy and its aftermath as one big family. And so when we meet, it's not really as strangers, but as brothers and sisters.

So many of you reached out to me and my children when we were in need and I hope you felt this kind of warmth, this bond when you helped us out. We will always be grateful for the love and care you gave us. And even though some of you thought that what you did was just a small thing, for us, it meant the world. Really. I'm glad we can "pay it forward," even if it's in a small way. The recipients seem to really appreciate what they get, so I can only hope that maybe the small things we pass on mean more than we know.

There are Freecycle groups operating all over the world, (as many of my readers know), so check it out and join us!

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Here's a Dream

This one is not hard to interpret, at least not at the beginning. But I'm having a little trouble with the second half. I'll skip all the little details and try to stick with the meat.

I dreamed that I was vacationing on a lake or gulf. I went out on the water on a raft and somehow ended up with a fish that was like a pet. It was kind of like a redfish, about 2 feet long and I took it in with me when I went into the lakehouse. I was in the bedroom with the fish on the bed when I suddenly realized that I had taken the fish inside and it needed water to live. I picked it up began to walk down the hall to leave the house and I heard the fish speaking to me. It was saying, "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" as if it were greatly relieved that I remembered its need and was delivering it to the water. I remember being a little surprised and delighted that it could talk.


On the way to the door, next thing I know, the fish is now a really big alligator and it's walking toward the door. It passes one of the bedrooms on the hall where Renard's siblings are and one of his sisters opens the door and is startled and tells me she thinks I'm crazy to be taking the alligator out because the thing is probably going to bite my head off. I told her it was okay and that I didn't have to worry about that.

The alligator gets to the front door before I do and it stands on its hind legs and is trying to open the door, obviously in a hurry to get outside to the water. I told it to hold on, that I'm coming and I'll get the door open for it. And I do. And it exits. That's all I remember.

Now, I've learned that when I have an animal in a dream that appears to be my pet (of sorts), the animal represents me or some aspect of myself. I encountered this dream metaphor once before and blogged it here, then got into the analysis of the dream in the following post here.

So, the main theme of this dream is pretty much right in your face. What I have is a fish out of water. A redfish, no less. The beloved local fish found in the gulf's estuaries that was almost fished to death as a result of Chef Paul Prudhomme's world-famous Blackened Redfish dish. And lo, I worked for Chef Paul 18-20 years ago. So I think it's safe to say that my peculiar mind was very deliberate in choosing this particular metaphor. A fish out of water? That's me.

But what's the deal with the alligator? I'm not a mean person. I won't bite anyone's head off. Ask anyone who knows me. (There are people reading this blog who know me in real-life and not just this blog-world.) I'm not scaly and scary-looking. And the alligator was anxious to get out, but it was still cordial. Surely, this has some kind of meaning, but I'm at a loss for it.

But I am indeed a fish out of water. I am out of my element. Shall I count the ways? Let's just look at the most obvious. I haven't spent a night in my own house, in my own bed, since August 27th, 2005. Sometimes, I lay in bed here with the lights off and I can't remember where I am. I think I'm home but on the wrong side of the bed...or am I in Keswick or in Charlottesville? Or at Renard's? Mom is my best friend, a wonderful hostess and a phenomenal cook. Being here is lovely. But I want to be back in my house. I want a normal life again. I'm tired of all the toil and trouble that has become the way of life in this city. I'm not alone. We're all going through it. Nothing is easy. Nothing is now. (I'm still waiting for State Farm to get their engineer's report so I can start the foundation work that has to occur before any of the other work can be done.) Will this ever end?? I wonder how many people on the Gulf Coast ask this question every day? I wonder how many people here can see a normal life as part of their future? Is this the alligator? I really can't figure that part out and now I've opened the valve to my repressed feelings frustration and can't see through the thick, sticky liquid.


I try not to talk about the effects that this Storm has had on all of us living in the area, but it's like having a stinky, dead albatross hanging around each of our necks. And it doesn't matter how badly you were flooded or how much damage your property sustained or whether or not you lost your job. This is not an easy place to be right now. If you're living here, you're wearing it. And I think we've grown so accustomed to the stench and the general unpleasantness that we no longer realize how much it's impairing our senses and our ability to function normally until we stop for a moment and look at ourselves and our feelings.

This is not to say that we all sulk around with great pathos. No, that is not the New Orleans way. We're good-natured folks, always ready to twist tragedy into humor, to make-do with what we have, and to trudge forward, laughing in the face of adversity. (We have, after all, chosen to live in this wacky city which had more than its share of problems before the Storm.) We're grateful that things aren't worse (because we know they always can be.) In many ways, I'm happier than I've been in ages. I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that my relationship with Renard has been incredibly good in the last several months. I'd call it high-quality, mutual love and happiness. And that definitely helps. But the albatross is still here, so I'm going to go back to trying to pretend that it's not.

And really, anyone have any ideas on the dream-gator?

Friday, June 02, 2006

Still & Quiet


I'm still here. I'm just in a state where I feel pulled toward the still and quiet inner realm and I want to honor that. There is nothing important to be said right now anyway. So, I am around, quietly checking in, but also spending a lot of time reading or in silent, meditative work. I'll be writing again as soon as it feels natural. It might be tomorrow. I don't know. But right now, being in the still and quiet of the inner self is what feels right.

The photo above is from the Hubble telescope and I chose it because it reminds me of the symbol for infinity and it's a lovely reminder that there is so much more to creation than just this world. You can peruse some of the other spectacular images captured by Hubble here. They are breathtaking. Here's a sample:
And another.

Kind of freaky, I think. What an amazing universe.