Community-- on this side and that

The beliefs of what comes after death run the gamut from nothing, to being reborn, to a heavenly throne or fiery hell, to lavish rewards of virgins or crowns, to being a god on your own planet, and on and on. Some fear dying. Some can hardly wait to get to the other side. Some know exactly what will happen. Some, even as they reach old age, don't want to think about it.

There are those who say it does not matter what we believe-- what is is. And that could well be true. On the other hand, what we expect might impact what we find there.

There is a good film starring Robin Williams on this subject. If you have not seen it and like exploring questions of what life after death might be like, it's called What Dreams May Come. It takes a rather New Age perspective that, as we often do here, we create our heaven or hell-- except the potential is much greater there as it's all energy without the flesh as a limitation. It also showed who helped William's character accept his own sudden death-- someone from the other side.

This is not a review of that film nor about what I personally believe is on the other side, but rather about that transitioning. I want to share a few stories from my family. Most families have them.

First one involves my grandmother's stepbrother. In the flu pandemic of 1918, as a strong young man (who you'd think would be the least likely to die, but statistically in that flu was in the group most likely), he died. Through his illness, Grandma was at his bedside, caring for him, as well as her three little daughters who also had that flu.

As he lay dying, he told her all of the ones he could see from their family. Fanny, can't you see them? He was seeing a community who had come for him and he named who was there.

When my mother died, she was at the other end of life-- 85 and living in a mobile home on this farm. She just had the flu or so we thought. That morning she wasn't up and about. My husband broke open her door and found she had died in her sleep. When I went in, I didn't look at Mom's face. I knew her personality, didn't feel she would like me to see her that way, plus didn't want it to be my last memory of her; but I looked at her body which was in the bed, covered with the blankets except her hand. Her hand was stretched upward. I have always wondered but will never know. Was she reaching out for my father, for her sister who had already died, perhaps her own mother and father? Had they come for her?

Finally there is a dream that my husband had a couple of years ago. He dreamed he was coming, in the spirit, to help our daughter cross over. She was an old woman lying in a bed in a house he said he had never seen before. He said I had already come to be there and told him when he arrived-- don't say anything. She knows we are here. He said he looked at the side of her bed and at first thought it was her daughter sitting there, then realized it was her granddaughter and the older woman with her was her daughter.

That dream was a beautiful example of the community that we benefit from having, on both sides, to make our own transition from this life to whatever awaits. Not everyone has children but everyone can have life-long friends, who are committed to being there for each other. If we keep ourselves open to the spiritual side, to the guides or angels who are helping us in this life, if we have developed caring relationships, someone will be on the other side also to help us cross over-- as I believe we do.

Denying old age its natural role

When I began this blog, I expected to write more about aging than I have-- 8 posts on it as compared to 82 on politics. I think that's happened partly because even though I am aging myself (turned 64 in early October), I have often not been quite sure what I wanted to say about the whole experience.

I see that old age, as a stage of life, has a purpose. Denying we are old doesn't make being old go away. It behooves us to think what the purpose for this time of life might be. When we try to deny being old, think on it as a failure of the body, a thing to hide, a thing to not recognize in ourselves or others, we miss out on a crucial piece of living a whole life.

What living a wholly experienced lifetime means won't be the same for each of us which is one of the wonderful things about life-- that we are individuals and our needs don't fit into cookie cutter shapes. Yes, by my time in life, the years ahead will are far less than those behind and some opportunities are in my past, but I also recognize there are some now that weren't possible earlier.

Like a lot of people in their 60s or even younger, I sometimes wrestle with the changes. Although I now take statins, physically I haven't yet noticed big differences in strength or health that I can correlate simply to age; but probably that is because I am not required to labor hard all day.

The changes I do see are reminders of what is happening and not denying them is part of what I think is needed for old age. I have heard elders saying that they feel like 30. Maybe they do, but they are not. What is it about these elder, senior, crone, geezer years that is unique, that can make them worthwhile? Why do people want to deny them?

I wonder if the huge emphasis in our current culture on trying to look younger is partly attempting to deny the process we are going through because it leads to death. When we look into a mirror and see lines, sags or gray hair, does it remind us our time on earth has a limit? Reminds us the body has a life span and that makes us afraid? Do we want to erase those signs or not see them in others because they are ugly or is it because they are the symbols that life does not last forever? They are the body's way of saying-- make the most of this time as it has a span.

Nature is full of change as the seasons illustrate. Most of those cycles keep going round and round without anything permanent changing. A full moon is a full moon and was the same when I was a toddler as now when I am 64. That full moon shines down on a woman, however, who is not. And I struggle with that sometimes. Sometimes I glory in it.

We can use all those magic creams, take the right vitamins, exercise up the wahzoo, but our organs, skin and joints are still our biological age-- minus how hard we worked them leaving the risk of joint replacements if we have overdone it.

What I work on is finding the balance between aging gracefully and giving up. Some do give up. They say okay I ate right all of my life or exercised. I smiled when I didn't want to smile, went to a beauty salon when I wanted to stay home, went out jogging when my knees hurt, worked at a job I detested, and now it's time to forget all that and let it all hang out-- which it is all too willing to do.

Old age has had some surprises for me. When I was younger, I would have assumed that come 64, my own years of caring about being a sexy woman would have been long behind me (and it might be for some women but it's not for me). I figured it would be time to sit with grandkids on my lap and enjoy the fruits of those earlier years. It was the example I had seen in the elder women in my family, and they didn't seem unhappy about it. Back then it was okay to be old.

Today, our culture fights that and seems to have made it a challenge to deny all visual signs of aging as though they have let down everyone around them. There are the ads for hair dye, products to keep the skin young forever, vitamins to roll back the clock, other products to lose that weight, and even sexual performance products (which lately seem to me to show older men with younger women). Potions and lotions promise to stop all wrinkling and sagging-- and if they don't work, surgery comes next. Take this vitamin. No, take that one. You can be young forever-- and if you don't, we don't want to look at you. They praise you if you look younger or for running a marathon or skydiving at 84 as though it reassures them about something. What could that be? I think it's the fear of their own vulnerability. We all age. Whether we are now 40 or just starting out as a baby, the road is ahead and maybe a lot are afraid to see it.

As it stands, there is no fountain of youth; and for the world, it's a darned good thing. None of those things from surgery to cosmetics can stop aging. Face lifts don't fool the body or other people. Worse in terms of looking younger, something about face lifts simply doesn't work. Perhaps it is removing all of the visual signs of a lifetime.

Denying aging, or trying to, denies us the opportunity to use these last years wisely. By the time we are old, we should (if we ever will) truly know ourselves. We finally should be to the place where, if we have not done it earlier, we stop denying who we are just to get along. The ideal as an elder is to live openly, honestly, and hopefully with wisdom gained through years of experiences. More important than whether we try to fool others is that we not fool ourselves with who we are as a person.

I believe one of the important tasks of old age is to fully develop our spiritual life-- if we haven't done it before. These are the years of preparing to move from the physical to the spiritual realm. For me that doesn't mean a religion but if it does, well do what works.

In my experience, spiritual depth comes through solitary time with Spirit. Community is good but not if it is filled with activities that deny going within ourselves, that denies us a personal connection with the other side-- which I believe can happen. That kind of work takes time. Old age helps us slow down to give us that time-- if we take it.

Old age is not sitting and waiting for death to take us. It's living fully but living where we are, not denying our own reality. It can be doing what we have yet not finished, exploring the things we didn't do earlier but wished we had; but the main task of old age-- in my opinion, is to find peace spiritually with what happens to us when our body wears out as it is going to do sooner than later for elders. Then when we meet death, we won't be afraid of what is coming.

These photos are recent and all me, even though with the lighting changes, some seem like they should be my grandmother. I look like them all. I have noticed this also in my older friends.When we get to a certain age, we can look so different depending on so many things.

Most were taken this last week-end but a few are from last month. They are a mix of how I see and feel about the physical me right now (and how you would see me if we met) from soft, protected lighting to harsh sunlight or flash. Some are the kind I'd normally discard but they seemed apropos for this topic because put together they are what 64 looks like. It's not ancient but it's not young either.

For now, sometimes I can still mostly pull it together for fun or when I need to do so. When I do, I think of that song by the Eagles-- Take it to the Limit One More Time. I can suck it in, put on the heels (chosen for comfort but then I stopped wearing uncomfortable shoes many years ago), and with the right lighting my hair doesn't look silver in front and I look much as I had for a lot of years. I can do it one more time, but not forever nor can I do it all the time. I find myself wanting to do it less and less.

The photo on the top was taken along the creek here in August. It's the one I call a goddess picture because of how the water formed that perfect circle around the figure with the staff. It was an effect I had not realized was happening at the time. It's a good reminder to me, to all of us women of a certain age-- goddesses are not girls!

(All photos can be enlarged but you do so at your own risk! )

Lest we forget

many were boys
when they went off to war
some to never return
now it seems strange to come here
to this place of memorial
and realize
it will be old women
who might sit
remembering someone
perhaps still shedding a tear
old women with gray hair
like me

(These photos are from the 11th, the actual Veterans Day, a date to remember Veterans, chosen because it was Armistice Day for World War I. Sunday I was at Newport and like to come to this place, to remember for a moment the war that my generation fought, a war that many didn't like, some blamed the soldiers who mostly didn't want to go either but did their duty.

We should honor the soldiers and always remember freedom didn't come without cost nor can it be held lightly because there is always someone willing to take it away. I do not believe no war is necessary. I do believe we should never fight one that isn't because the cost is steep for those who are asked to give it all-- both for those who die and those who will forever mourn their loss.)

The Prophet of Climate Change

In a comment on the last piece regarding corporate agriculture, Robin Andrea from Dharma Bums mentioned an article online from Rolling Stone magazine for which I then went looking. Reading this article, The Prophet of Climate Change, is well worth anyone's time. It explains who James Lovelock is and why we should take seriously what he is saying.

We grew up, at least those of us living in the United States today, in pretty much of a golden era. So many wonderful things came along in terms of vaccinations, antibiotics, improved food production. Plague no longer presented the danger it once had. Famines happened elsewhere but not to us. Do you realize how rare it has been in the history of mankind to not have to worry about so many of the basic necessities we today take for granted. It may have been so good that we became lazy and complacent. Many of us forgot basic skills, our intuition, our ability to be responsible for ourselves.

The Rush Limbaughs say earth will always be here. Too true but what about us? Our concern is human. Are we, as individuals, prepared for what might be coming? Let's quit the blame game and start thinking what can we ourselves do to sustain civilization-- at least as much of it as possible.

Climate changes are happening. In November, amazingly, this rose is still blooming in my garden. What the heck is that all about? I have only lived here 30 years, which isn't much time for making scientific observations for what is normal, but never have I seen my roses blooming this late in these hills. Freezes should have long ago turned them black. The springs on the hill produce less water than ever before, the creek is lower. Some tree types are dying. Bears are coming lower than ever for food.

Are these things we can see happening going to be permanent? What has caused them? People can argue over all of that, but all you have to do is look at geologic and physical history, to know change has happened regularly on this planet some call Gaia. Why has mankind assumed it has stopped? In the future, some heavily populated areas might become inhabitable. Others would then be overrun with refugees. Do we know for sure which would be which?

I believe in what Lovelock is saying. As best we can tell, governments aren't doing anything to prepare. Our leaders around the world might know where they will go, but have they done anything for the rest of us? You know the answer. It costs too much money-- just as solid cockpit doors did before 9/11...

The article is both science and commonsense. I don't think it's panic talk but a solid look at what might well be coming and why. Here is a smidgen:

"...a few years ago, alarmed by rapidly melting ice in the Arctic and other climate-related changes, Lovelock became convinced that Gaia's autopilot system -- the giant, inexpressibly subtle network of positive and negative feedbacks that keeps the Earth's climate in balance -- is seriously out of whack, derailed by pollution and deforestation. Lovelock believes the planet itself will eventually recover its equilibrium, even if it takes millions of years. What's at stake, he says, is civilization.

"'You could quite seriously look at climate change as a response of the system intended to get rid of an irritating species: us humans,' Lovelock tells me in the small office he has created in his cottage. 'Or at least cut them back to size.'"

1984 is coming sooner than we think

and don't forget this--

Corporate Agriculture

People who think the government should regulate nothing will probably see corporate agriculture as no concern of theirs at all. Corporations do things cheaper and better. They always take the high road. Why should the consumer be concerned about monopolies in the production of food? Bottom-line is always what is cheapest... See, I do know the arguments.

So why should anyone care about having laws that limit corporate farming? Do most of us care from where our food comes? I guess if you trust corporations, you will see the following statistics as encouraging
.

Four corporations control 82% of the nation's beef cattle market
Five major packers control 55% of the hog industry
Small farms comprising 94% of all U.S. farms receive only 41% of all farm income
There are 300,000 fewer farmers than there were 20 years ago

Is this a problem? We see the same increasing concentration of money in a few hands throughout this country and some see that as good. Agriculturally are we returning to a time of sharecroppers and landowners? Should it matter? Can we change it if it does?

In the United States Midwest, farmers saw this as being a problem and did something about it. They created anti-corporate farming laws. The following site, from Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund, gives the general rules in each of those states--Anti Corporate Farming Laws in Heartland.

I can just see some of my reader's ears perk up... environmental was in that... Must be communist. Maybe American Civil Liberties bunch. Gonna ignore everything they say. Well, I learned some states had such laws from a big rancher, who thought they were a good idea. The law was seen as a way to keep families running those ranches. The goal was to keep owners living on their own land. It also helps to keep agricultural land prices more oriented toward the actual productive ability of the land.

High land prices might sound fine to those who think every rancher or farmer secretly wants to retire to Hawaii and sip coconut juice, but in reality many of them want to stay working the land. They want their children to someday take on the mantle of hard work and long hours but also the feeling in pride as they dismount from their tractor or horse to step onto their own ground, to be people who know they produce a product that feeds not only this nation but is one of its biggest exports to the rest of the world.

We better think long and hard if it's really okay to find all of our food production in the hands of a few corporate bosses. No doubt, some things big companies can do better and more economically, but it also puts power into the hands of a very few people and leaves everyone else having to trust that the prices will remain affordable, the product healthy, and available. Where it comes to food, that all should be of more concern than when it's DVDs.

At one time, people grew a lot of their own food. They knew the family who raised pigs and when they would be butchering. Today most people are dependent on supermarkets for food, and they have no idea from where it comes. Do the hormones that are used in our meat matter to our health? Grain-fed tastes better and is tenderer, does it matter that grass-fed has the same Omega-3s as salmon? Who needs that anyway? And on the hormones, they withdraw them some time ahead of butchering; so maybe it's okay... Who exactly is it who is checking to be sure?

The questions go on with often no answers we can trust because we have removed ourselves from the food chain other than to turn over dollars to a store. It's as though food has become something we don't have to think about, not who produces it, not its safety, nor even whether it'll always be there.

The trend among Republicans is to see all government regulation as bad. Bush has appointed heads of regulatory agencies who often were (and will be again) part of the very corporations who would be impacted by any safety regulations. Is it any surprise that there are less and less people working in those agencies? That they fight against anything but very limited oversight of the products they are supposed to oversee?

So when corporations raise your food and decide how or if it's inspected, what is your guarantee anything is safe?

The leader of the pack

It would be nice to be writing a post here about what a terrific candidate for president ___ ____ is. Wow, I really like them and think they have the solutions to the problems of the country. Yep, gonna turn things around and it's why I am so excited that they will be our next president. Hasn't happened and rarely has in all my many years of voting for president. It always comes down to lesser of evils and this looks like a year that won't be an exception unless something comes along to surprise me.

I ask myself the same question every four years-- Why is there rarely even one that I can feel good about? I choose none of the above-- let's start over. They never give us that option.

And even worse, the likelihood is, come November 2008, there will be two to choose from who I disliked the most from either pack. Leader of the pack does not mean the best person where it comes to politics. It's not the strongest or the most beautiful or the best orator. There is some weird chemistry that takes place when people start choosing presidential candidates. Odd things happen.

When Steven Colbert was running a satiric campaign for president in South Carolina, who most wanted him out of the race? It was Obama supporters. Why? Because of the voter who will write in Bambi and those are the ones most likely to vote for Obama? That was not a good piece of publicity for the Obama camp.

There are two main questions to answer, as I see it, when choosing a president. The first involves issues-- the second character.

If the best person in the world believes in political options that are generally the opposite of my beliefs, I will not support them. Being good in that case would have some reassurance to me, if they won, but I'll still be unhappy as good means they will be better at going the opposite direction of where I'd like to go.

To start, I look at the issues that matter most to me. This year that would be foreign policy. That's not my usual main concern, but the world right now has so many hot spots, not to mention the issue of does the United States want to be the self-appointed policeman of the world? Can it even? Suddenly that's an issue where it never would have been before politicians started milking the 9/11 cow. Where it comes to war, I do not have grandchildren yet old enough to be sent off to fight, but I can easily imagine how I'd feel if I did. Wars should only be fought in extreme necessity and Republicans don't seem to get that.

Second big issue is domestic but it's another that who would have guessed a few years back. Who will best assure our Constitutional rights as citizens? Who wants an imperial, secretive presidency? Who is trying to undo democracy because citizens don't vote right? There are several running, in both parties, who would not mind keeping that kind of power.

Giuliani is the worst of the bunch on the Republican side (and that's saying a lot) because he is totally opposite my view on those two issues-- and even on social ones, he might say he believes in gay rights or a woman's right to choose, but he would appoint more judges like Scalia and Thomas, who will make sure there are no laws giving those rights.

Giuliani is a Bush wantabe on every level; but if anything more scary when we get to the second potential deal breaker-- character. It's not because he likes to dress up as a woman or has had several wives and affairs. Those issues aren't big deals to me, but his general character, his choice of who he thinks has it, his belief that Bush has done a heck of a job, his power grab attempts in the past, no way would I vote for Giuliani, no matter who ran opposite him.

For me, character does come after issues but it is important. I would like to have someone in the presidency who can be wrong but doesn't lie. I would like them to be the kind of person who thinks through their position and has consistency. As I said before on an earlier post on this topic I want them to be hard working, competent, honest, and capable. Character counts in picking friends, a mate or a leader.

Our nation will have accountability in terms of karma if we only care about the candidate who will most profit us. The Nazis didn't come into power promising to kill all imperfect human beings. It was on promising economic power. I have learned to watch out for those who promise too much and look for what is going on behind the scenes. When we pick a candidate who is dishonest and cheats those around him, who lies and feels it's justified by his higher calling, we get what we deserve-- especially if we did it for our own perceived gain.

Worse we have a bunch now who play the religion card and want you to not look beyond their religious words. Huckabee comes to mind as an example of this with his good old boy manner, his piety, but from what I have read, his record in Arkansas leaves a lot of questions about his personal ethics or his judgment in who he trusts. People need to check, as the media, who tend to overlook what people do when someone seems nice, never will anymore than they did with Bush.

So on a basis of character and issues, who would be my candidate? I guess it has to be Obama of the ones most likely to win (assuming he is tough enough to do the job which is debatable still). Am I thrilled with him? No way but what are my choices?

Right now in the Democratic party, Hillary is ahead of the pack only because there are so many from which to choose for the anybody-but-Hillary voters. If the candidates with no chance would drop out, leaving one or at the most two opponents, she'd be facing a tougher race. They aren't dropping out because, as Richardson proved at the last debate, they know they are place holding and hope to be rewarded by a political position in her administration. They are pandering (which these days could be a synonym for politicking). I see Wesley Clark do it on any panel he's on and have read he's hoping for Vice President. Ugh!

So right now, it appears it'll be Hillary and Rudy next year and I am not happy. Neither will promise to get us out of Iraq, but at least Hillary doesn't tell the president that she prays every day that he will bomb Iran (as it is said Giuliani did). One does not claim they deserve the presidency because they will brutally cut a swathe across the Middle East-- not sure with what troops but then the daddy party doesn't care what troops. They just like the big talk.

And Hillary, well supposedly she's being picked on by the boys. She publicly says it's not her gender but lets her surrogates go out and claim just that-- or as Bill did, try to claim it's swift boating when someone reminds people she doesn't have firm positions on a lot of issues. Hillary wants it both ways, to run as the first woman but as soon as she is called to account for her positions, it's because they are picking on her as a woman. The gender card is being played if not by her, then her surrogates.

Let's be honest, as a second time senator, with no real record in leadership, Hillary is in the running because she is a woman and winning for now because of to whom she has hooked her star-- a star she is still riding. Her numbers went up as soon as the big dog got more involved. The problem is, for those who are supporting her as a way to get him back, who knows what she'll do if she holds the office of president. She could dump him. The character issue is a big concern for me where it comes to Hillary. She's doing what she has to do to win. What will she do once in there?

If nothing else, we should have learned with Bush that the power of the presidency isn't easily taken back. Something is moving in our country to get more and more of an imperial presidency. We need to be very cautious in our choices-- maybe more than ever before in our history-- except what are our choices? Double ugh

freedom of speech referral

Please read Ronni Bennett's blog for today as she writes about a subject we all need to consider carefully regarding freedom of speech... or not-- Thought Crime Bill Passes House. She is writing about this-- HR 1955.

We are in a time where we need to think carefully about where we are going in the supposed name of safety. Read it and think. To me, it's a further example of how our Congress is in lockstep with the group who want to silence any dissent. This bill goes to the Senate next.

Where we are heading and is it where we want to see this country go all in the supposed name of taking away some other guy's right to speak his mind? Are the majority of Americans really this afraid? Bin Laden has achieved far more than he could have ever hoped through fear, not his 20 suicide terrorists. We have been doing it to ourselves or someone in our country has used it as a tool to do it to us. What is at the end of this road?

Yes, it sounds like the bill is all about violence, which is why it passed so overwhelmingly, but when it says ideological violence what does that actually mean? If this sounds alarmist, make sure you have thought through who will be in charge of determining what is meant by ideological violence.

The Fountain

Whether my introspective phase recently has been because of the coming winter season-- the illusion of dying with rebirth to follow in the spring-- or whether it's just something I go through now and again, I can't say. Recently I have done a lot of thinking of what life is all about, whether I have lived before and will live again, what that would mean if it's so, what is real, what should be my priorities, death, birth, and I could go on but you get the idea. Mostly I do this for awhile and then decide that I will go crazy if I continue and turn my thoughts back to what to fix for dinner and should I buy some bulbs for the garden.

From my past experience with 'meaning of life' questions, I usually come around to feeling we have to do the best we can with what we have been given (which doesn't really say much, does it). I sometimes wonder if enough people even think about life purposes. Are most people, including me sometimes, so distracted by the mundane, by entertainment, by our own problems, that we don't think about whether we are fulfilling our own life purpose. Do we lose the big questions in the petty ones?

So when I'm in a questioning mood and have no answers, I look for spiritual films to watch-- things that will add to my confusion... Well, not that but definitely films that will expand my thinking. After all, if I wasn't already questioning life's mysteries, why would I invite that? I tend to collect movies for such times. The Fountain got added to that shelf this week-end.

I didn't go into the video store intending to buy The Fountain, which was directed and written by Darren Aronofsky. I was looking through a section of previous viewed DVDs on sale. Actually I had some reservations about it given most of the reviews I had read were negative claiming it was confusing or pointless. However, where it comes to spiritual films, I don't let reviews make up my mind given what seems to make sense in a spiritual way often is the opposite of what the world sees as making sense.

The Fountain has the advantage of two very interesting stars, Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. The story is about reincarnation, the meaning of death, and relationships between people that extend through one lifetime to another with perhaps the same lessons to learn in each. It was also confusing. You have to work to keep up with what is going on which is one of the problems with movies that pass through several different stories and try to keep the viewer connecting the dots. One story was current; one in the 16th century and one supposedly in the 26th century. You could take the stories, except the one in this lifetime, as being dreams, allegories or real events.

The movie is not filled with action and it does take concentrating. It is not a love story even though the main characters are involved in a tragic love. Personally, I didn't follow that supposed future life one at all and it would have made more sense to me if it had been the man in the spirit world, his soul, his in-between-lifetimes being, and not some supposed future life. On that level, it all would have made total sense (to me). I didn't see the value of it being future life, but if it was soul, the man's higher self, then it connected those dots.

So taking it as I preferred to interpret it (which since it was a bit confusing was easy to do), the man was a doctor trying to find a cure for cancer in time to save his wife who was dying from a brain tumor. The cure supposedly lay in material from a Central American tree. His wife was writing a book that told their story in the Spain of the 16th Century where the Inquisition was threatening Queen Isabella (her) as she sent off the conquistador, who loved her (him) to find the tree of life from the Bible where God hid it in Central America, in the land of the Mayans.

For someone who follows a lot of spiritual traditions, none of what I just wrote seems is as far fetched as it might sound. Humans always try to make sense of death. There is a seemingly universal desire to find meaning to life... and hence I am back to where I started this blog-- with, as I said, no answers. Other than I believe it's good to think on such things-- sometimes.

I can't say I'd recommend The Fountain or not recommend it. It's not a film for everyone. If you are the sort who likes to ponder the mysteries of life, enjoys beautiful imagery, and is content to watch films where not all solutions are neatly tied up by the ending credits, then I think with a fire in the fireplace and a bowl of popcorn, you might enjoy it as I did.

Camp Sherman

From the time I was a young adult, until now as an old woman, always the Metolius River has been a constant in my life. Not a place I physically visit all the time but one that is in my heart.

It might be a vortex, not that anyone local would probably think to call it that. If vortex means place where good energy joins, it is definitely one. I have gone there with sorrow, with joy, with needing some life solutions, and always it has enhanced my life and helped me.

The first time I walked along its banks, you could walk right down to its headwaters, kneel on the rocks and scoop up some of the water to drink. The headwaters, about a mile from where these photos were taken, are a spring that bubbles up out of the ground already a river.

Scientists have debated from where all that water comes. This is a volcanic region. When you look at the skyline of the Cascades, you see many snow covered peaks, they and many lesser ones are volcanoes with the potential for erupting again in the case of four of them (Mount Hood, Crater Lake, Newberry, and South Sister). Everywhere you see reminders of earlier eruptions of even the lesser volcanoes, like Black Butte, which is near the Metolius. This is an arid land but a place of a few big rivers and many lakes-- all impacted by its history.

Some say the water that forms the Metolius percolates through lava from Black Butte. Others have suggested Crater Lake. I favor my own theory that it comes from Middle Earth because it is a place of magic.

I have ridden horses along its banks (before the nearby stable closed down), camped in tents and trailers, stayed in cabins, hiked, waded (for about a minute as that is really cold water), taken photographs, watched the salmon come up to lay their eggs, sketched, and enjoyed its beauty from snow to wildflower seasons. It has seen my own life change from the season of carrying my babies here, watching my children splash in the water, seeing them turn into adults, and now knowing my grandchildren likewise can enjoy its special gifts.

Once in awhile I wish I could own one of the cabins that are in a few places along its length, under the tall pines, peaceful with the constant sound of a river out your window. Most are on forest service land; so they aren't easy to come by. Families generally pass them down through their families or friends as who would want to give one up?

Here are some fall photos from there on October 22nd with a water ouzel as the only resident visible that morning. Summer finds a lot of people on the Metolius, camping, fishing, hiking, but winter is quiet.

This time, I particular loved seeing the tamaracks with their golden color. We don't have them in western Oregon and they are so pretty not to mention unique as the only conifer that drops its needles in the fall.

(Regarding land use, one of the concerns has been development of a large resort [or two] on what has been timberland a few miles from here. It would not be on the banks of the Metolius, but one would have to be foolish to not realize thousands of homes and a huge golf course would not impact its usage. Some would say that would be good. I think it's very special as it is and where not everyone can live nearby or on its banks, all can visit-- if they choose to do so, and enjoy its magic for a time-- which is the best way to enjoy magic anyway. Sometimes in trying to possess something, we destroy it.)

If you are feeling harried and hassled by the pressures of life, take a moment with these photos. Click on them, as I believe even through a photo, you can get a sense of the peace the Metolius gifts to those who spend time along its banks.

Halloween is the season for...

Because it's Halloween, I realized the subject I had intended for the 31st would not do. If there is ever an appropriate time to discuss Tarot cards (some would say there is not), when better than Halloween? Tonight is the night for witches and goblins, a fitting time to think about the 'other' side *appropriate music*.

Samhain is the Celtic name for All Hallow's Eve. It represents the ending of the light time of the year and the beginning of the dark. Some see it as when the dead reach out for the living hence scary movies and the costumes that used to be most typical for Halloween-- witches, ghosts, and monsters. Today I hear Hillary Clinton is the most popular scary mask, not sure if that has meaning but will save politics for another day.

On Samhain, All Hallow's Eve, Halloween, the veil between the other side and the living is supposedly very thin. Some believe it's a day to celebrate those who have gone on. To do this, they create an altar of pictures and keepsakes to honor their loved ones who have died. It is traditional to use lights and food to guide the spirits back and as offerings to them. The gifts of candy for children goes with this tradition as does a switched on porch light meaning -- come on in.

Last week I had been in Portland and visiting my favorite metaphysical bookstore, New Renaissance, when I remembered my desire for a new Tarot deck. I had been using the traditional Rider-Waite decks. Now I wanted something different.

It was probably about eight years ago that I got my first deck. I use them now and then but not daily. I won't go into the details of how to read cards because I think I wrote about this before. This is about my new deck.

In the bookstore, I looked through the sample cards but as soon as I saw The Gilded Tarot, I knew it was the one. The art is digitally created by Ciro Marchetti. The companion book with suggested meanings and spreads was written by Barbara Moore. The art really touched me which is the best way to select a deck. I liked that it used the traditional structure I had learned. The illustrations spoke to me on an artistic and emotional level. They seemed like a fantasy novel as the stories on each of them added subtle nuances to the meanings of the cards.

So far the readings I have done with this deck, after smudging it to cleanse it with sage, have been intuitive, giving me not just insights but reassurances about the direction I have been moving.

An example-- I posed a question about my relationship with another person, shuffled, cut and dealt out 3 cards. Looking at them, they seemed very apropos from what I knew of the situation.

I turned the question toward the other person's end of the relationship, shuffled, cut and dealt them again. In both readings, I received two of the same cards (what are the odds of that with 78 cards?) In each reading, the third card was different-- accurately showing the problem from two different perspectives, helping me to see how the other person was seeing it and what my end of this should be as the two similar cards represented the goals I already had come to believe.

If you do a reading, where you already knew what it says, what was the point? I think it's two-fold. One is it helps us to realize our insights are accurate. It gives us confidence in our own intuition. Then if one believes there is spiritual help from outside ourselves (always ask that you receive help only from the good side, from the white light, from your understanding of who god is), readings that succeed are confirming that the help is out there. These readings also have reassured me that this deck is working for me right now. It is the right deck at the right time.

Personally, I don't believe Tarot is occult but realize some see it that way. In my mind, it is a tool. How it is used will determine whether it's for good or ill which is true of any spiritual tool including rosaries, prayer beads, even scriptures when they are used to prophecy.

The above pictures are all scanned from The Gilded Tarot, And then there is this last one--Trick or Treat!

Okay, don't start worrying about me. I am not a witch or gypsy (although I have a face made for it which comes in handy only at Halloween).
Hey, it's supposed to look scary :)

Good energy in the Oregon Outback

Last Sunday, on a beautiful, fall day, I was in Southern Oregon, the other side of the Cascades and a region some call Oregon's Outback. It is lightly developed, known for its remoteness, beauty, cattle and independently minded people.

In a small community, we stopped for lunch at a cafe. It was not fancy but had nice people and good food-- it also was probably the only place to get a meal for at least 20 miles any direction. The tables were chrome, the walls decorated with western symbols like brands, the other diners appeared to be locals who all knew each other. My family and I took a table at the front by the window, checked out the menus, and then I looked around.

The paintings on the wall were western. That always catches my eye. The biggest was of cowboys taking longhorn cattle across the Sycan River in what looked like a storm. By biggest, I mean it was probably 4 feet by 6 feet and it filled the room with its subject, color and energy. It definitely held my attention.

Frequently art in small town cafes is not of much quality. It's often grandma art (nothing wrong with grandmas as I am one myself but I just mean it's hobby more than serious). It is there to look nice and make the locals happy. Not in this cafe. That painting was a real gem in the middle of nowhere.

Then I noticed the smaller paintings farther down the wall, the ones that required my getting up to see more closely. They all had the same vibrant energy, the accurate feel of the working west. Wow, who was this woman. Because I collect modern western art, I know a lot of the artists' names. Not this one.

Reading the flyer tacked on the wall, I learned Judy Erickson lived locally. She was a horsewoman, who knew her subject because she herself cowboys-- it showed.

With now an eye to buying one, I looked even more closely. I chose The Wild Ones, a 14.5" x 21", framed giclee (giclees are prints on canvas which can be hard sometimes to be sure they even are prints-- other than by price) of two cowboys rounding up wild horses.When I later emailed her for more information, Erickson was very friendly and responsive. She is self-taught or more accurately she said she feels her painting is a gift from god who wants her to paint this way of life, to show it to others. I am drawn to works of passion and hers definitely fits in that group as the passion she feels, for horses and that lifestyle, shows through her every brush stroke.

She also wrote it was purposeful that you would wonder whether the wild ones were the cowboys or the horses. The men look tough, the wild horses hard to handle and the painting suggests a storm is brewing. The artist said that in that part of the country, those storms can come up fast and from three directions. The men in the painting looked capable of handling it-- whatever it was.

For me art is always about the energy. I buy things that touch me-- when I can afford them. Always the paintings I love most project feelings and emotions that go beyond the simple elements of the subject. I only wish I could paint well enough to do that myself. (If anyone is interested in contacting Judy Erickson for more about her work, email me and I will give you contact information.)

After lunch, the country grew even prettier as we drove down a river-- nice sized river, tall pines, rough rock outcroppings, few people, and beautiful autumn colors.

Alongside the river, right next to the road, was a small cave which our daughter, who is an archaeologist, told us had been investigated some years ago by archaeologists. They found it to have been occupied perhaps as much as 10,000 years ago by the people living here before Mount Mazama erupted-- a huge mountain whose eruption and collapse left behind what we know today as Crater Lake as well as covered a lot of the region with volcanic ash and lava.

Standing in the cave, seeing the patina of the smoke from many campfires it felt like it would have been a good place to find shelter from the storms. The people back then had to move through the seasons to find enough food to stay healthy. With hunting nearby, fish in the river, a crevice to the back to store your belongings away from the elements, it seemed to me this would have been a favored stopping point, maybe even wintering over. The view was great-- not that it probably factored into their stops. Then again, probably they were as oriented to finding good energy as I am.

I could tell you the name of the river, the small community, but you know it could be anywhere in Oregon's Outback as beauty and discoveries are around every bend in the road. All photos are from along that river.

The Problem of Greed

How much is enough?

A recent Krugman column in the NY Times addresses the issue of regulation vs deregulation. He makes a good case that the Feds understood the problem of over loaning to those who didn't have the resources for a loan, subprime loans (terms I only learn what they mean under duress), and why the Republican party and Alan Greenspan did nothing to rein it in even when they knew there was a market bubble in housing that would lead to a crash someday not only for those who borrowed but for loaners.

Deregulation is the keystone of Republican thinking. Free markets know best. Regulations are always bad (unless they relate to sex). Leaving aside the issue that our economy is anything but free market, that lobbyists get through all sorts of regulations that improve their own corporate profits over someone else's, why wouldn't free market be best?

In an ideal culture people would look for the highest good in making their choices-- and that would include businesses. No company would want to put out unhealthy products. No land owner would want to destroy land quality, nor would a mill want to put out pollution simply to make more money. All choices would be made considering the long term impact as well as short term gain.

We would have to be brainless, deaf and blind to think we live in such a culture. So much today revolves around making money and not just enough money because there is no such thing as enough for some people. When you have unregulated greed, you cannot have unregulated markets. People will cheat. They will skim. They will sell things they don't own. And on and on.

In a culture of enough, government regulations would not be needed because people themselves would regulate through approval and disapproval of how others act. They would watch out for each other. Of course, in one sense, they do now too... Wealth and those who possess it are nearly worshiped. Pretentiousness is a quality to be admired. Big house, not good enough, must be biggest. I know through experience that not all wealthy people behave that way. It isn't having money alone that makes someone greedy. It's the attitude they have toward acquiring-- there is never enough.

Native Americans in the region where I live had a value system where the potlatch was the measure of a man's power-- where in celebration, he would give away almost everything he had. As soon as priests got out here, it's one of the first practices they stopped. Can't have undirected and unfettered giving. Even today people are encouraged to give toward organizations that will give them tax write-offs. Giving is enhanced by buildings named after the givers.

You can't even count on giving once to protect your name staying with the building. In Tucson there is a small park that used to be named Dennis Weaver. The story goes that Weaver had donated for the park when he was making a film around Tucson. That lasted until the park needed upgrading. Somebody else's name now decorates the gates to the park. That name will stay until the next upgrade unless the family left an endowment to keep his name and the park both in good shape.

Larry David in 'Curb your Enthusiasm' on HBO did one of his shows on this subject of memorial naming (many are not yet dead when it happens). Several of the leading characters had donated to a medical facility and thereby had a wing named after them-- except one donor had his name be anonymous on the wall, but he made sure everybody knew who he was. Anonymous received more credit, lots of attaboys from his friends which gave him credit for generosity and humility all at the same time.

I got sidetracked but basically what I am wondering about is why is there never enough for some? I see it and know it to be so, but I don't understand it. I was raised differently and maybe that's where it all begins-- how we are trained as children. I was raised to believe in different values. The best things in life may not be free but they sure can't be bought with money.

Can a culture, that has become so materialistic, change it? It might have to start with our children as our attitudes probably do for us today even if we are 64 years old. When I was with my daughter and her family last week-end, she was mentioning that they simply weren't getting their kids into all of the activities that are so common for 9 and 6 year olds. No lessons for this or that. Not in the year around sports leagues. Limited big parties where the gifts bury the children.

I told her yes, you are not doing some things, but look at what you are. Your children snowshoe in the winter. They are as comfortable in the wilderness as in a city park. When in the woods, they know for what to watch to not get lost or hurt. They know what the source of meat is (clue: it's not a grocery store). They know the beauty of a desert night, swimming in a wilderness river. They know how to play with sticks, sand, rocks and lizards.

Maybe if more people knew such things, grew up with such things, we could have a free market system because humans would be wise about the market and greed would not be a virtue to them.

You know, it's not having money that is the problem. It's whether there is ever enough; and if there isn't, then what will one do to keep getting more? Does government, as a tool of the people, need to protect itself from unbounded greed? Deregulation only works in a culture that has taught its people true values.

The Hunter's Moon photos were taken last night, when it first rose above the trees (first two) and then in the morning (last two) just before it went below the mountain. Hunter's moons (the first full moon after the Harvest Moon) look cold, sublime in their beauty but taking their photos does require a coat, a good camera, and a tripod. Seeing it was free. Photographing it costs money.

This last photo was gotten by controlling the exposure and darkening the moon to show more clearly its craters. The actual color was white, not yellowish.

The other thing I found interesting, which I admit I had never looked at before, which says I am not into astronomy, is that the moon is different in the morning as the craters shift to the other side. (astronomy buffs please don't groan). I thought it might be that way but had never taken the time to really look. (All images can be enlarged by clicking on them.)

I think this Hunter's Moon drew me into it, made me want to possess it in the only way I could-- through a photo. I guess that is a kind of greed too. :) Hey, I admit it, I do have a greed to possess certain things-- just they are usually the ones money can't buy!

The moon will still be full for a few days. Enjoy it. It's free to look.

Ghosts of the Forest

Living in the Oregon Coast Range, humans share this land with many creatures, but the most fascinating of all for me are the animals nicknamed ghosts of the forest, the elk. That name is earned because they often seem to appear from nowhere. You can be standing in a deep forest, fog softening the lines of the trees, aware only of your own breath, and then you hear the sound of a branch snapping. Is that something chewing? Tearing down another branch? You hear the movement of a large body. You know they are not far away, a hundred feet maybe, but they do not want to be seen and they are not.

Often the only evidence they have been somewhere is footprints or mud on the roadway where they crossed. I have never seen them on this farm, but those who drive up the gravel road say they have watched them run across the back.

Elk travel in family groups like the cattle who carry their same names-- cows and bulls. Within fifteen miles of my home there are three different herds, each with their own circuit through the forest, apparently never mixing their ranges as they drift through the hills and cross the rivers in a circuit they will repeat year after year, knowing just where the good feed is, where the branches stay green longest in the winter, and leaves return soonest in the spring.

One year, walking up the hill behind this farm, I saw one of those herds, the smallest, in a meadow below. Down there are some marshy areas. That morning the water was warmer than the air and the steam rose from it. You could see it the cows' breath. They would roll in the pools, then run around like calves. I looked hard to see if there was a bull with them, but bulls get wary after hunting season. The bulls were likely in the woods, watching over their herd but not showing themselves.

This year, coming home from a week-end away, I saw the herd in these photos. It is about fifteen miles from the farm and one of the largest local herds. When I drive through that valley, I always look for them. They appear as if by magic, sometimes melting back into the woods just as quickly. When the herd is there, I often stop for awhile and watch. It is like touching a bit of wilderness to see them and know they are watching me. I love how they travel together, their communal nature, their beauty, and strength.

In this herd, I saw several mature bulls but one obviously was the patriarch. Elk travel together as a band, as a community. Perhaps as this bull gets old, presuming he survives the hunting seasons, one of the younger ones will fight him for the dominant position. Some elk travel in harems with only one bull but in the Coast Range, they seem to manage peace with several large bulls in the herd.

This bull will soon be at risk when the season opens-- first bulls, then cows for hunters with tags. I don't like hunting, but it is an honorable way to get meat. It can be done respectful of life. For the herd's health, thinning in some manner is essential to avoid disease and starvation. Unless the Coast Range reintroduced wolf packs, man is the only predator that can take down elk in its prime. The herd is also part of its protection.

I have been in Yellowstone and watched a single elk run past in dread for its life. When the wolves were reintroduced to Yellowstone, the balance of nature shifted. A new player had entered the arena. It might seem sad to see predators bring down such a proud animal, but it is part of the ecology of a healthy forest to have predators capable of thinning herbivore populations; however, even wolves will be cautious how the pack goes after a mature elk, preferring to cut out the young.

Years ago, I had a girlfriend who had grown up along the Siletz River, which is the other side of the Coast Range from this farm. She talked of being out in the forest with her friends and being treed by the elk. Once in awhile a tourist in Yellowstone will get too chummy with them-- wanting just one more photo just a bit closer, and end up gored in the stomach.

With a herd this size, given the alert way they watched me, I didn't head across the open field for better photos. When I first got there, they seemed to be grazing, but I think they wanted to come my way and were wondering when I'd leave the gate and drive away. Reluctantly, eventually I did, and they likely continued on their circuit past the point where I had been standing, jumping the fence as though it was irrelevant because to their size and strength, it was.

Land Use Planning and Measure 49

Generally I don't write about local, Oregon issues in this blog because I know most of my readers come from other places. Land use planning however impacts us all as it determines how wisely or otherwise the lands near where we live, where we shop, where we vacation will be developed or changed.

Many years ago Oregon established a system whereby ordinary citizens could submit levies to the voters. In some ways, that is the most democratic system possible... or could be. Instead of representatives deciding all of our laws, we vote on some of them directly. Sometimes that comes about because of the Legislature and sometimes it's through gaining enough signatures. Any measure submitted to ballot must be vetted that it is legal under our Constitution and that all of signatures are the real deal.

When a measure gets to the people, there is no requirement that they get informed, check whether ads are misleading (the most money doesn't always mean something is good but it sure does tend to make a difference), or care what the impact of a law might end up being. Democracy takes work and a lot of people aren't willing to put that into it. Some don't even bother to vote. Some vote carelessly; and of the two, I think the latter is worse.

The ballot measure system has led to some good laws for Oregon and to some of our worst boondoggles. Measure 37, which passed in 2004 and finally was decreed legal in 2006, falls under the latter category as far as I have been concerned. It decreed that any zoning regulations that occurred after you purchased land did not apply to you unless you were paid for the loss in value you might have suffered (determined by you). It does not ask you to pay for zoning regulations that might improve the value of your land. Nor will it compensate those who bought their land after yours but now find their value lessened by your development choices.

Measure 37, however, sounded good enough to the government-is-always-the-bad-guy crowd, that it passed-- throwing out some of Oregon's land use laws which protected farming and timber lands since 1973. Sometimes the land use laws probably were too coercive, but land that is protected can someday still be developed but once tree farms are taken out of production, once farming land is turned into houses or big box stores, there is no going back.

There are people who don't like government regulating anything-- unless of course someone else wants a big box store next door to their home. As for me, I wanted reasonable and thoughtful land use planning. I had seen what happens when there is no planning-- helter-skelter development anywhere, farmland disappearing, factories next to houses and on and on.

Yes, some of that can happen even with land use planning and without a doubt there have been wrong uses of zoning, but what Measure 37 did was create a special group of people who today believe they have the right to do anything with their land, forgetting that even before 1973, when farmland was first uniformly protected, there were zoning regulations. They also conveniently forget that as a compensation for limitations on development and to keep farmland farming, and forests growing trees, the property receives a lower tax rate than residential. That has amounted to quite a compensation for farm, ranch and timber lands which nobody is proposing be repaid.

So that leaves Oregonians today with a new measure to vote on in November-- Measure 49. It was submitted to the people by the Legislature as a partial fix of some of the worst results from the prior law. It would still allow rural property owners, who owned their land before 1973, to build several homes on their land, transfer the right to build those homes, but would block large subdivisions on farming or timber lands.

For those who want no zoning at all, might I suggest a fast food restaurant next door. Amazing how people can see more clearly about some things when are touched by them directly.

So if you live in Oregon, please read the arguments in the Voter Pamphlet, carefully consider the truth of what Measure 49 will do, what the results will be with land use laws being thrown out for a select group of owners (timber lands in particular), and vote Yes.

If you don't live in Oregon, please consider that land use planning is actually to our benefit. We should be informed and support reasonable laws to protect orderly development. The alternative is not pretty and the more crowded together we become, the uglier it will get.

A Cultural Observation

Before I discovered blogging, when my writing was with pen, typewriter or computer (Atari to start), I still wrote many of the same kinds of ideas as I do today-- the sole difference being back then nobody but me read my words except now and then a publisher (if they read the words before rejecting them). In going through my current computer, I came across some observations from a trip to California in 1997.

Background for this essay: we had flown into San Diego, California, on a Saturday morning; so that my husband could have a series of business meetings while I enjoyed the art galleries and beaches of Del Mar. As soon as we got off the plane, we headed our rental car to Tijuana to buy prescription drugs which were much cheaper there. The law at the time allowed up to $300 worth and 6 month supply-- no prescription required (naturally no narcotics nor addictive drugs were included).

The memories of what I saw that day and later felt are still strong in my mind--

February 8, Saturday, 1997

To enter Tijuana, we cross a bridge over what is today a dry wash with only rats running in it. Our destination of tourist shops is only a short walk. The bridge is lined with tiny, Indian women, babies in their arms, toddlers at their sides. They sit patiently holding out drink cups for someone to put money into. I have seen this at any Mexican border crossing. I glance at them but don't give the women anything. I think I am embarrassed for them.

I did not grow up seeing beggars. My first experience with it was when I walked into Nogales, Sonora in 1965. There were women sitting alongside buildings, cups or baskets for change, their eyes usually not meeting mine. It was shocking then, but no longer is as our country now has it too.

As I return from shopping, I expect those tiny Indian women will be sitting there. I reconsider what I will do. I live such a different life from theirs and yet we share our womanhood. We are mothers. We do the best we can with what we have been given. Whether begging is good or not, would these women do this if they had a choice? Some are trying to sell small items but most just have the cup outstretched. Their gazes look up at me, but the expression in those eyes is blank.

A dollar is nothing to me. Maybe it will be something for them. Changing my mind, I decide a dollar is too much--not for me but for them, I reach into my purse for a pile of quarters, holding them in my hand as an easy way to distribute the money.

I put money in a woman's cup, not waiting for nor expecting thanks. The next goal is a little girl who earlier had been playing a small guitar and singing. She is still there, just as loud and just as off key. People who pass smile, but there are but a few bits of change in the cup held by her sister or friend. Perhaps the children take the money out as quickly as it is put in. I add a quarter. Another girl, perhaps a bit older is selling small candies and becomes more persistent as she sees that I have proven a soft mark. I give her a quarter without taking the candy.

I keep walking, but am quickly surrounded. I have never seen so many children come from nowhere in my life. It reminds me of a scene from a movie. They are small and pushy, demanding. Possibly they disappear when they receive a coin, possibly they pocket it and try to see if they can get more.

Finally I am out of money and show the situation by holding out my open palms. Their persistence has been humorous but disturbing all at the same time.

One dark-eyed, handsome boy, smaller than the rest, continues to follow, determined to get his bit of change. He says nothing, probably speaks no English, perhaps not even any Spanish; but he knows an international language as he keeps his cup firmly out staying at my side. I finally ask my husband for something to give him before he either gets lost from his family--assuming there is a family--or he ends up trying to cross the border and go home with us. I have brought home cats and dogs from walks, not yet a child. When he receives his change, he too disappears and I pass out no more money.

I feel grateful I hadn't given any money on my initial way across because it would've been a nightmare coming back. Those little children showed every other adult who crossed why they wouldn't want to give money to any. It also made me wonder how they signaled each other that money was there. I had to have had at least 15 bits of change from pennies to quarters. It all went out to kids I hadn't even seen a few moments before. How did they get the word out? I guess, they must learn to be very alert as a means of surviving their precarious physical situation.

Going back through American immigration takes a long time. Blame Bill Clinton for whatever you want, but under the Republican administrations, you could walk across that border. Now documentation is checked for every crosser--at least at the legal points. At least half the people in line are Mexican legals.

Later after having settled into our inn, we go driving in the hills above Del Mar, exploring back roads. Flowers are bright and colorful on the hills, the sky above is turquoise blue, the air warm. The homes are rich, the people we see jogging look well-to-do, educated--the beautiful people.

As we leave behind a stretch of dirt road and enter a housing development, I see a little girl learning to ride her bike with her parents behind and in front of her. Her blue eyes meet mine as we drive past. Her hair is long and blond, clean and shiny, a helmet protects her pretty little head. The expression on her face is alert and trusting, happy, and I cannot help but contrast her life to that of children of that morning only a few miles south and hundreds of years apart.

An accident of birth made that beautiful, dark-eyed, little boy grow up in a world so different from the pretty little blond girl that if they meet someday, they will barely have any experiences in common. Nobody can know for sure what will happen in life, but the probability is she will never have to humiliate herself by begging on a dirty street with rats running underfoot. She'll have an education, loving parents, who even if they separate, will always support her. She won't have to face the fears a child of the streets knows all too well.

So what does all that mean? I don't have the foggiest. It's just an observation. People who believe in reincarnation would say the poor child chose his lot before his birth. The Christian could say the rich child might do her suffering in hell for a selfish life brought on by too much excess, and the poor child will be rewarded someday in heaven (assuming he has said the right words first). Liberals would say we should do something about it. Libertarians would say mind your own business. Mexicans might say my even observing such is a typical Norte Americano's attitude of pridefulness. Conservatives would assert it's the price the dark-haired one pays for bad economic practices of his people and certainly not the fault of the light-haired one.

A child is just a child. They do not earn what they have. In a few more years, more than just begging and home life will separate those two children--the one dark, the other light. They might even fall in love someday, or one might rob and rape the other. Some would say one already has.

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It's now been over ten years since that day and I have no more solutions today than I had then. If they both lived, those two children are in their teens. I haven't been to Tijuana since that trip, but I would guess women still wait along that bridge hoping to sell something or get money. I have learned to give more when I see women in that situation-- if I decide to give at all. It doesn't really help them nor me to do it; but it's hard to walk past knowing it could be just an accident of birth as to which woman I am...

(The photograph of the flowers is from that trip and the beach at Del Mar.)