Don't look to the camera and lie
to our faces.
Don't tell us you've done it
without any traces.
Wheels of Government turn
While the halls of men burn,
We look with hopeful eyes
and bid them to hear our cries
to save humanity and our earth
To keep our Mother clean so she can give birth
to a land that will grow and prosper,
a place we must nurture,
before we have lost her.
-SJ Holmwood (8/6/2017)
Saturday, August 5, 2017
Thursday, July 2, 2015
Creativity and The Power of Music
Rock music is life-enhancing for me. It's the continuous primal beat of the bass drum, the melodic twang and screech of electric strings, the melancholy mourn of a steel guitar, horns all haunting...smooth and bubbly, bass strings thumping rhythmically in the background. These sounds are like voices to me...extensions of the musicians themselves, creativity exuding from their pores, shouting their truth.
Music tells a story and sets the mood, sometimes bringing back vivid memories of times past: good or bad. It can also be motivating in terms of getting you going in the morning, or helping you slide through a task you'd rather not face. Music promotes dance...playful and physical: creativity for your body.
For some people music is a big part of their lives- myself included, for others...not so much. I can't imagine life without music, as life-affirming as it is. Life without music is like life without animals...dull, boring, not a happy place. Music is art...audio art. They say that the way a person plays the musical instrument is like their signature or fingerprint- no one else plays exactly the same way.
Embrace your creative side: play music, paint, sing, dance, write and do it to it! You'll feel better for it.
Music tells a story and sets the mood, sometimes bringing back vivid memories of times past: good or bad. It can also be motivating in terms of getting you going in the morning, or helping you slide through a task you'd rather not face. Music promotes dance...playful and physical: creativity for your body.
For some people music is a big part of their lives- myself included, for others...not so much. I can't imagine life without music, as life-affirming as it is. Life without music is like life without animals...dull, boring, not a happy place. Music is art...audio art. They say that the way a person plays the musical instrument is like their signature or fingerprint- no one else plays exactly the same way.
Embrace your creative side: play music, paint, sing, dance, write and do it to it! You'll feel better for it.
Monday, June 15, 2015
A Moment in Time, Circa 1974.
I was married in 1973 at the tender age of 19. My first husband Tom came from a small town in south eastern New Hampshire. It was there, on a beautiful summer day that his family totally blew a gasket!
We were outside in the back yard: aunts and uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters, parents, and friends. Tom's mother Pauline wanted to take a picture of her children (4 boys and 1 girl) before we all sat down to eat. It was a pretty normal family reunion up until that point.
The trouble started when the siblings lined up for the picture taking. Tom, the eldest reached across and pinched the nipple of his younger brother Joe. Then Joe pinched him back when he inadvertently hit his brother Rick in the stomach with his elbow. Rick hit Joe back, or pushed him. Youngest brother Jeff trying to help and he gets in on the brawl. They all pile on top of each other on the ground while the youngest, Teresa, age 11 scurries out of the way bawling her eyes out. Pauline ran off crying and Ray joined a couple of uncles in the melee, fists flying. It sounds funny now but it was damned scarey at the time. I can remember leaving after that. One of the worst Christmas's ever for me.
One other time they engaged in another family brawl, but this time it took place indoors at Christmas time. Nothing like a little family feud to spice up the holidays!
We hadn't been married very long...a year or so. We had been invited to his parent's house on Christmas Day. We were all sitting in the living room near the decked out live Christmas tree, probably having coffee or spiked eggnog. It was just the immediate family. I think Ray had been hitting the home-brew already and was feeling his oats early in the day. Perhaps the same could be said for some of the others, I can't remember.
Everyone was talking and the television was on in the background. There may have been Christmas music playing, somewhere in the house. Teresa was sitting on the floor. Ray was a very racist person and he happened to be mouthing off about the "coons" or something. I was disgusted with his comments, but I sat back and watched the horror unfold. Jeff was sitting near me and he spoke out to his father about his racist comments, by saying something back to him. I spoke up and agreed with what Jeff was saying. Ray's voice got louder and angrier, and Jeff's voice grew louder than that. Before we knew it, a fist fight had broken out and the other family members were trying to break it up. I think Jeff and his wife left right after that and we may have as well. What a circus!
We were outside in the back yard: aunts and uncles, cousins, brothers and sisters, parents, and friends. Tom's mother Pauline wanted to take a picture of her children (4 boys and 1 girl) before we all sat down to eat. It was a pretty normal family reunion up until that point.
The trouble started when the siblings lined up for the picture taking. Tom, the eldest reached across and pinched the nipple of his younger brother Joe. Then Joe pinched him back when he inadvertently hit his brother Rick in the stomach with his elbow. Rick hit Joe back, or pushed him. Youngest brother Jeff trying to help and he gets in on the brawl. They all pile on top of each other on the ground while the youngest, Teresa, age 11 scurries out of the way bawling her eyes out. Pauline ran off crying and Ray joined a couple of uncles in the melee, fists flying. It sounds funny now but it was damned scarey at the time. I can remember leaving after that. One of the worst Christmas's ever for me.
* * *
One other time they engaged in another family brawl, but this time it took place indoors at Christmas time. Nothing like a little family feud to spice up the holidays!
We hadn't been married very long...a year or so. We had been invited to his parent's house on Christmas Day. We were all sitting in the living room near the decked out live Christmas tree, probably having coffee or spiked eggnog. It was just the immediate family. I think Ray had been hitting the home-brew already and was feeling his oats early in the day. Perhaps the same could be said for some of the others, I can't remember.
Everyone was talking and the television was on in the background. There may have been Christmas music playing, somewhere in the house. Teresa was sitting on the floor. Ray was a very racist person and he happened to be mouthing off about the "coons" or something. I was disgusted with his comments, but I sat back and watched the horror unfold. Jeff was sitting near me and he spoke out to his father about his racist comments, by saying something back to him. I spoke up and agreed with what Jeff was saying. Ray's voice got louder and angrier, and Jeff's voice grew louder than that. Before we knew it, a fist fight had broken out and the other family members were trying to break it up. I think Jeff and his wife left right after that and we may have as well. What a circus!
Saturday, May 30, 2015
A Bad Patch of History
I was 14 years old, living at Gran's in Pittsburgh in early 1968 when my Mother told me not to hang out with my black friends any more. I was shocked and didn't understand what was happening. Me and my friends, we weren't mad at each other, so why did I have to stop seeing them? I remember going over to her house (I'm sorry I can't remember her name) and we would play board games and hop-scotch on the sidewalk in front of their house. I was friends with her brothers too.
I later found out it was because of the racial uprising in the late 60's in Pittsburgh and other cities like it. Right after that we moved to New Hampshire, I received a letter from a friend of mine in Pittsburgh, saying that there was a riot at our school and that another friend had gotten hit over the head with a chair, and that students were burning books and desks in the middle of the classroom. This was all very upsetting. Seems like we got out of there in the nick of time. I wish things could have been different. I never really got to say good-bye to my friends.
At that point in time, it's too bad the adults couldn't see past the color of someone's skin.
Our country has seen some bad times. We are likely to see more. How we handle it is up to us. I would like to see our country united, not divided. The so-called Hippie Movement of the 60's and 70's was all about love and peace. Too bad some of us have forgotten what those things mean.
I later found out it was because of the racial uprising in the late 60's in Pittsburgh and other cities like it. Right after that we moved to New Hampshire, I received a letter from a friend of mine in Pittsburgh, saying that there was a riot at our school and that another friend had gotten hit over the head with a chair, and that students were burning books and desks in the middle of the classroom. This was all very upsetting. Seems like we got out of there in the nick of time. I wish things could have been different. I never really got to say good-bye to my friends.
At that point in time, it's too bad the adults couldn't see past the color of someone's skin.
Our country has seen some bad times. We are likely to see more. How we handle it is up to us. I would like to see our country united, not divided. The so-called Hippie Movement of the 60's and 70's was all about love and peace. Too bad some of us have forgotten what those things mean.
My Maternal Grandparents
I remember as a child living at my grandparents house in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania in the 1960's. My mother and I lived with her parents from the time I was five until I was twelve years old. I love my grandparents and have many fond memories of them. We lived in the city with tiny back yards and even tinier front yards. You could almost touch the house next door via a small alley between the houses. Gran's house was up on the hill, three houses down from the corner of an intersection. Ours was an inter-racial neighborhood, but we all seemed to get along and life was good.
We walked at least three blocks to a small market for food, I walked to school four or more blocks, and my Mom and my Grandfather walked to the "streetcar" station to get a ride to and from work downtown. My grandparents didn't own a car. Later Mom bought a car and life was a bit easier, plus we could visit our relatives who lived out in the country. It broadened our horizons.
I remember my Grandfather having a small garden in the back where he grew the best tomatoes I've ever eaten and sunflowers galore. I'd stare at their sunny faces and watch the birds eat their seed. One time someone gave Grandpa some unusual seeds which produced great big pod that split open when dried and the seeds would fall out. The shape of the pod reminded us of a bird's head and beak, so we dubbed them "bird plants". We dried them and painted them as ornaments and gave them out to friends and family. Everyone who saw them wanted seeds. We passed out a lot of seeds and painted ornaments,but I still don't know the Latin name for them to this day. I had kept some of the painted ornaments but over the years, even those got lost or broken. I've never seen them anywhere else.
My grandparents always encouraged creativity in my mother and myself. My grandfather would take me down cellar where he had a nice workbench. He would show me how to saw wood by hand and make small things out of it. He always had a big box of wood scraps under the workbench which was fun to rifle through at the age of seven, imagining what I could create with them.
My grandmother and I would spend hours at the dining-room table drawing freehand or in coloring books. My Mom worked a lot, so Gran and I spent a lot of time together.
One of my fondest memories is when I was two years old and my uncle showed up with a 2 month old Chihuahua for my birthday. A tiny chocolate and tan baby who I loved with all my heart, until he died at the ripe old age of nineteen or twenty. He was the best dog ever. He tolerated all of my childish ways like a trouper. I sorely miss him to this day.
My aunt and uncle lived in the city about thirty minutes away and we saw them fairly often. Later they had my two cousins. Mom only had one sibling, so we are a relatively small family. My father was an only child, as I am. Funny how things go.
My grandfather's family are Scottish and English. My grandmother's family are German. My biological father's family are Italian. So that makes me Scots/English/German/Italian. Not exactly "Heinz 57" but varied none the less.
My Grandmother died in 1983 of cancer, though she never smoked a day in her life. My Grandfather died around 1974 of lung cancer. He smoked unfiltered cigarettes most of his life.
I am grateful to have had wonderful grandparents and for the time we spent together.
We walked at least three blocks to a small market for food, I walked to school four or more blocks, and my Mom and my Grandfather walked to the "streetcar" station to get a ride to and from work downtown. My grandparents didn't own a car. Later Mom bought a car and life was a bit easier, plus we could visit our relatives who lived out in the country. It broadened our horizons.
I remember my Grandfather having a small garden in the back where he grew the best tomatoes I've ever eaten and sunflowers galore. I'd stare at their sunny faces and watch the birds eat their seed. One time someone gave Grandpa some unusual seeds which produced great big pod that split open when dried and the seeds would fall out. The shape of the pod reminded us of a bird's head and beak, so we dubbed them "bird plants". We dried them and painted them as ornaments and gave them out to friends and family. Everyone who saw them wanted seeds. We passed out a lot of seeds and painted ornaments,but I still don't know the Latin name for them to this day. I had kept some of the painted ornaments but over the years, even those got lost or broken. I've never seen them anywhere else.
My grandparents always encouraged creativity in my mother and myself. My grandfather would take me down cellar where he had a nice workbench. He would show me how to saw wood by hand and make small things out of it. He always had a big box of wood scraps under the workbench which was fun to rifle through at the age of seven, imagining what I could create with them.
My grandmother and I would spend hours at the dining-room table drawing freehand or in coloring books. My Mom worked a lot, so Gran and I spent a lot of time together.
One of my fondest memories is when I was two years old and my uncle showed up with a 2 month old Chihuahua for my birthday. A tiny chocolate and tan baby who I loved with all my heart, until he died at the ripe old age of nineteen or twenty. He was the best dog ever. He tolerated all of my childish ways like a trouper. I sorely miss him to this day.
My aunt and uncle lived in the city about thirty minutes away and we saw them fairly often. Later they had my two cousins. Mom only had one sibling, so we are a relatively small family. My father was an only child, as I am. Funny how things go.
My grandfather's family are Scottish and English. My grandmother's family are German. My biological father's family are Italian. So that makes me Scots/English/German/Italian. Not exactly "Heinz 57" but varied none the less.
My Grandmother died in 1983 of cancer, though she never smoked a day in her life. My Grandfather died around 1974 of lung cancer. He smoked unfiltered cigarettes most of his life.
I am grateful to have had wonderful grandparents and for the time we spent together.
Friday, May 22, 2015
Soul Mates and Other People Without Skin
Have you ever met someone with whom you've made an instant mental connection the first time you met? The look in their eyes, the things they talked about, their personality, something about them seemed to really click, and at that split second moment you see a glimmer of recognition in their eyes, or you feel it when you shake hands. Not as dramatic as things that happen in films, but notable all the same.
I'm not necessarily talking about a "love connection" as in "boy meets girl", though that can happen under these circumstances. I have had the experience with other people too...a sort of recognition, as if you'd met that person before, but you knew you hadn't...at least not in this life. It could be any acquaintance from a small child to an elderly person of either sex.
I do believe in reincarnation, and that souls do progress through experience and learning. I've met people, wise beyond their age or experiences, and I get the sense that that person is an "old soul",
someone who has reincarnated many times. It may sound crazy to some people, unless they've had the experience. I can say it's happened to me only about 3 times over a period of 40 years. It's one of those things you never forget.
I called this post "Soul Mates" because this could very well become a love connection for the 2 people involved, and "Other People Without Skin" because it doesn't have to be a romantic connection...just a connection...meaning that you have the feeling of meeting them perhaps in another life, almost a feeling which is difficult to explain to someone else. To me it's a deeper connection than you would have when meeting a total stranger...the soul beneath the skin.
I'm not necessarily talking about a "love connection" as in "boy meets girl", though that can happen under these circumstances. I have had the experience with other people too...a sort of recognition, as if you'd met that person before, but you knew you hadn't...at least not in this life. It could be any acquaintance from a small child to an elderly person of either sex.
I do believe in reincarnation, and that souls do progress through experience and learning. I've met people, wise beyond their age or experiences, and I get the sense that that person is an "old soul",
someone who has reincarnated many times. It may sound crazy to some people, unless they've had the experience. I can say it's happened to me only about 3 times over a period of 40 years. It's one of those things you never forget.
I called this post "Soul Mates" because this could very well become a love connection for the 2 people involved, and "Other People Without Skin" because it doesn't have to be a romantic connection...just a connection...meaning that you have the feeling of meeting them perhaps in another life, almost a feeling which is difficult to explain to someone else. To me it's a deeper connection than you would have when meeting a total stranger...the soul beneath the skin.
Monday, May 18, 2015
Cannabis, Alcohol, and Wisdom
I remember the first time I smoked cannabis, or pot as we called it. At first I was skeptical and a bit nervous as I was only 17 at the time. My boyfriend and a friend of mine with her boyfriend smoked some at the friend's apartment. I didn't feel that different afterwards, and remember thinking "what's the big deal?" The media, our government, our parents, and most of the older generation were way off base on this one!
The second time I smoked it, I did get high. It was a gentle mind opening experience. I loved that feeling. I could totally function with out being out of control. Very relaxing too. People who smoke cannabis don't usually get violent, unless they add alcohol or some other drug to the mix. Cannabis encourages creativity, calms you down, and generally provides a feeling of well-being. That is why it's so beneficial for PTSD patients. Smoking cannabis did not turn me into a vegetable like the commercials say, in fact I probably learned more after I started smoking it. I am an avid reader, and somewhat curious. Like many people, I learned more out of school, than in.
During those teen years, I drank alcohol probably as much as any teenager would, but soon learned that I could not tolerate it because it made me sick. Yeah, I could handle a couple of beers or glasses of wine, but I had found something much better...cannabis! Over the years I grew to hate alcohol because it has killed or destroyed the lives of so many people I care about. Why does our society condone...even promote alcohol when it's a known killer? Why doesn't our government abolish prohibition on cannabis?
Many cultures use herbs, mushrooms, and other plants that cause an altered reality when ingested. The plants are used to gain wisdom or find the answer to a hard question that has been plaguing them. Why is our government so paranoid about cannabis use? Besides, if you are using it responsibly in your own home, not harming anyone, what is the problem? What on earth are they afraid of? Cynically I think it's all about money. That's usually what it boils down to with most things. But our government could be making so much money from the sale of cannabis...enough to pay off the national debt! Instead we put people in prison for the most minor offense of being caught with a joint in your pocket, wasting tax payer money and ruining families, when the police have better things to do like solving real crimes. Many people who work in law enforcement don't agree with prohibition either (L.E.A.P.).
Is it going to take "an act of God" to change this law?
The U.S. Government hasn't contributed to the research of cannabis, except to try to prove something bad comes from it. Why not research the good properties as well as the bad, if any exists. Wouldn't it be ironic if cannabis were the missing link in our healthcare? Individuals have already proven that cannabis fights cancer. The drug companies wouldn't want us to know that. It might take money away from their products, many of which cause horrible health side affects, and many who give you something worse than you started out with.
The second time I smoked it, I did get high. It was a gentle mind opening experience. I loved that feeling. I could totally function with out being out of control. Very relaxing too. People who smoke cannabis don't usually get violent, unless they add alcohol or some other drug to the mix. Cannabis encourages creativity, calms you down, and generally provides a feeling of well-being. That is why it's so beneficial for PTSD patients. Smoking cannabis did not turn me into a vegetable like the commercials say, in fact I probably learned more after I started smoking it. I am an avid reader, and somewhat curious. Like many people, I learned more out of school, than in.
During those teen years, I drank alcohol probably as much as any teenager would, but soon learned that I could not tolerate it because it made me sick. Yeah, I could handle a couple of beers or glasses of wine, but I had found something much better...cannabis! Over the years I grew to hate alcohol because it has killed or destroyed the lives of so many people I care about. Why does our society condone...even promote alcohol when it's a known killer? Why doesn't our government abolish prohibition on cannabis?
Many cultures use herbs, mushrooms, and other plants that cause an altered reality when ingested. The plants are used to gain wisdom or find the answer to a hard question that has been plaguing them. Why is our government so paranoid about cannabis use? Besides, if you are using it responsibly in your own home, not harming anyone, what is the problem? What on earth are they afraid of? Cynically I think it's all about money. That's usually what it boils down to with most things. But our government could be making so much money from the sale of cannabis...enough to pay off the national debt! Instead we put people in prison for the most minor offense of being caught with a joint in your pocket, wasting tax payer money and ruining families, when the police have better things to do like solving real crimes. Many people who work in law enforcement don't agree with prohibition either (L.E.A.P.).
Is it going to take "an act of God" to change this law?
The U.S. Government hasn't contributed to the research of cannabis, except to try to prove something bad comes from it. Why not research the good properties as well as the bad, if any exists. Wouldn't it be ironic if cannabis were the missing link in our healthcare? Individuals have already proven that cannabis fights cancer. The drug companies wouldn't want us to know that. It might take money away from their products, many of which cause horrible health side affects, and many who give you something worse than you started out with.
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