LOVE, where are you?

     Thankful to be well again, but just a little slow in returning to the fold of life. Got myself in the swimming pool – lovely; and walked – very nice; then thought about going out – RAD!  Said praise god I'm now freed from reading the bad and boring writing one is forced into when ill, after going through all available material at home. I picked up a free health food magazine while I got my herbal teas for my lungs, and it had these deadly “wholeness' articles that are excruciatingly awful. Besides the fact, first of all, that they use that word 'wholeness', which, along with 'wellness' makes me even sicker, (I thought the word 'health' was a good one for many years), they go on about spiritual journeys that are nothing more than the time-honoured tradition of just paying attention to yourself, being patient, trying to understand others, and recognizing that life is full of changes. In other words, good old common sense. They talk about the 'violet flame' and messages from ascended masters, in esoteric courses. But we don't need to purchase fake cosmic contacts to guide us. We are our own masters, or should be. We should be nurturing our internal guides, along with our bodies, to keep the big, connected picture. How 'bout we just eat right, share with friends, work hard, blame no one else, and – here's another old nugget: 'live and let live'. No hate.

   Oh, well, now I've run into a little problem in my own philosophy, because my second complaint is those _____ (leaving blank the adjective I won't use because this is a family blog, but they're idiots) – those strange beings in the American NRA – not humans, not the kind of people I'd want to have in my neighbourhood – “If anyone tries to take my gun, they can drop dead”. Ya, and you'd be the guy to see to that, wouldn't you?. Or: “you're gonna see 1776 all over again!!!”, etc. etc. They are people filled with a lot of hate, it would seem. And the problem for me, of course, is living and letting them live, although one doesn't have a real choice about that, just the hope that you never run into one of them.

   Getting back to the bad and boring reading: in the magazine I saw an article entitled “Breath Test Can Detect Colon Cancer”. Science finally catching up with what any girl has known for years when some evil-breathed dance partner spews the foul air of his rotting innards all over her. Very often bad dancers too.

    Am I going onto too many tangents? I'll come back to the important stuff. Had one gig in January before the sickness came on me. The most recent one last week got canceled because of the huge snow dump that landed on the city, and I have one coming up next week, but it's a private affair, so I can't divulge any details to you.

However, I'm still keeping the music alive, and just discovered a song I wrote in December of 2011 that got lost in the shuffle somehow, so working on that.

  All the holistic or spiritual beliefs or good living can't help us escape the reality of death, and nobody knows what really happens afterwards, but even without its being imminent, life should be a kind of 'preparatory' time, - a kind of pregnancy, during which our only job is to incubate a new life within ourself: the self that will live on, or if it doesn't live on, at least reflect during life the self that is our true one, the one we need to know, deep inside, so that it becomes familiar and we connect with it and express. It's important to do every day, but most of us don't, in the craziness of life.

I did part of my duty yesterday, and gave myself an early St. Valentine's gift; got my body and my soul taken care of by having a wonderful massage. Now I must remember to pass on the glorious feeling, along with that of getting the red enveloped card in the mailbox this morning. I'll send the 'spiritual' red envelope to all the hate-filled people, in hopes of world peace.

Meanwhile, I will pass on this picture, with my best wishes for lots of love. It's in the air today, so grab it.

AH! MEN!

HERE'S A LITTLE AFTERNOON STORY FOR Y'ALL:

Went to my local Honda Dealer the other day - I had a Honda pump that I'd bought about 15-16 years ago. Good one, but I need some parts replaced. When I went to pick them up, I asked the guy what the cost would be for a comparable pump now. Comparable to my Honda WN20, that is.

"WN20?!!" says the sales manager, "No such thing. Ever".

"Funny", sez I, "since I have the Honda WN20 pump at my house, and I also have the very informative Honda WN20 manual".

"Nope." says Mr. Supreme Honda Man, "Honda never made any WN20". He said that with a lot of authority.

"Well," I sez, "I have one, and I'm sorry, but Honda did make it."

Then this next statment, delivered with that "I know what I'm talking about, lady, and you don't" kind of authority, meant to intimidate and shut you up: "I've been selling these things for 20 years, and I've never seen or heard of a WN20. They don't make it."

Oh dear. 'Maybe you don't quite make it, as a source of information', I thought, and I was taken back, many years, to my university days, when I had my first sexual experience with a man. I say 'with a man', because I was fortunate enough to have had numerous sexual experiences with myself, from the age of ten, and up until the wrong-headed and perverse Catholic church started teaching young girls (age 14, roughly) that it was a sin to indulge in 'touching yourself'.

Am I going off track? No. You see, the university guy told me that according to a book he'd read, that women don't have orgasms.

"Funny," sez I, "because I am a woman, and I can assure you that we do."

"But the book...." he started.

And he reiterated about the book and its authority. And I asked who wrote the book. And the answer was, of course, a man. With the same kind of 'we know best, dear, and we know all' kind of authority as the silly Honda man, no doubt.

Too bad there are so many men around who still believe in that kind of blind authority, and who still like to sound, above all else, as if they really know what they're talking about.

Unless you're very strong and opinioned and experienced yourself, you're in great danger of actually listening to them.

Sometimes, I have been victim to those kinds of mental bullies. But you can't fool me on the pumps and orgasms. Praise the Lord.