Monthly Archives: August 2013

I usually don’t pay attention to the sidebar ads that FB throws up, but the headline “Leaking when you cough?” ‘Research opportunity’ and a phone number has me thinking of what the room that various coughing based urinary experiments would be performed in would look like.

It is incumbent upon us as a social species to learn to effectively communicate – this means actively listening, expressing yourself and your wants/needs clearly, as well as being able to accurately gauge the reaction of the individual that you’re interacting with, and tailoring your responses to keep the flow of communication going.

It is because of the SUPREME LACK of this skill, that so many people keep getting into social drama. Address your communication and self awareness issues, and things really do get so much better – as well as less negatively dramatic.

If you cannot do this or be this for the people in your life that you care about, then you’re doing both them and yourself a disservice.

“I need to be startlingly clear. This thing of finding your authentic voice, expressing your blessed weirdness and revealing your soul isn’t an elegant process. You don’t do it to be cool. It’s only real when it is ruthless, relentless and inevitable. But it is also a matter of personal and collective survival. Yes, it’s that important. You are that critical.”
– Jacob Nordby.

Today, my heart is full. The weekend was very instructive and healing, as was the last time I found myself in the Hoh Rainforest around this time last year. Today has been wonderfully mellow, and I can feel myself addressing old psychological wounds, gently tending to them and helping the broken parts re-integrate into a happy, healthy whole.

For the first time in over thirteen years, I’m able to remember all the happy, wonderful things about a particularly painful time of remembering. I can actually remember being cherished, adored and loved, and stay in that space until my heart overflows with it. I am surprised at the strength in it. I’d completely forgotten.

Instead of releasing only anguish and pain, I’m now able to access all the love and joy that I experienced, without desperately needing to go back to that direct state in order to access it.


Again, I state my profound thanks to the universe and all the accompanying spirits that keep hanging around because I’m apparently interesting to watch over, protect and love. My joy knows no bounds. I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I’m coming to the realization that the path of my life is a mandala. There are grand, wonderful things that happen to me, that inspire beauty and love, but I don’t really keep many physical keepsakes. Instead, I choose things that I can nest with – colors, fabrics, nets – decoration that helps me to make home wherever I find myself. It helps that I now drive around in my home, as well 

I know lots of friends that have boxes of treasures – things from their childhoods to remind them of the past, but through all the successive moves throughout my life (I don’t think I’ve actually lived in one house for more than five years), I’ve dumped a WHOLE lot of stuff. Sure, some are things that I might momentarily miss – but, it quickly passes. I don’t necessarily need any of it to keep going.

I keep my spiritual things with me, but almost all else can come or go. I’m not really overly attached to it.

This trip has helped me realize exactly how much I’ve been able to let go of – and how much more I need to release.

I feel so much lighter, and a profound sense of gratitude.

Road Chronicles

So, Friday night, I pull into a KOA about fifteen minutes away from Cape Disappointment down in southern Washington to spend the night – and as fortune would have it, I ended up getting a space next to completely fantastic neighbors. Two wonderfully raucous Canadian women and a Scotsman – it was like the beginning of a ‘walks into a bar’ joke.

Shortly after pulling in, I asked if I could join them and share their fire, and they waved me on over happily. I broke out my camping chair, then shared my story, while they shared various travel stories of their own. They were all very friendly, chatty, and VERY generous with their booze. (I’d brought my own, but I’m pretty sure that if I’d found myself ‘in need’ they’d eagerly have offered me a whole lot of pretty heavily tanked mixed drinks)

I haven’t laughed that hard, for that long, in a great while.

During my time with them, I learned that:

– Alcohol is apparently MUCH cheaper in the US, so they would make frequent trips over the boarder to stock their booze larders.
– Apparently ‘Fuck’ is a very popular word in Canada, which DELIGHTED me.
– We’d all been called filthy whores at several points throughout our lives – except for the Scotsman.

Wecked fahckin’ pahty night.

Thank you, Universe.

So there’s this lady in the restaurant this morning with two children that are just being horrible little terrors. The little boy is running around all over the place, almost knocking into people, and the little girl is pulling pictures off the wall and pulling menus out and waving the around and just being a nuisance.

The entire time, the mother is just on the phone – as is her older daughter. They apparently couldn’t care less that the kids are being awful. There’s no disciplining the kids – nothing.

When they finished eating, they all went out into the main entry area, and the mother just sits down and continues talking on the phone while her kids continue to tear up the place and knock into other customers.


Thoughts from Willemina, Oregon

The other night, as I slept with the window open, I was awoken by what sounded like a coyote pack calling out to each other as they surrounded their prey. They sounded fairly close, but not right up on the house. Maybe a neighbor down the road. It was a quick skirmish, but the howls were chilling and cool at the same time.

Thanks, nature, for the auditory floor show 

I love it when things like that happen.

So, although this past weekend was fantastic, it also came with an entertaining element of drama.

I was called a whore, along with a friend, by somebody’s girlfriend happened to be cheating on her boyfriend in a fairly outrageous manner. I can only guess that, in order to assuage her own guilt at her appallingly childish behavior, she chose to deflect this by redirecting and getting nasty with her boyfriend – and (BONUS) calling us whores because we were simply hanging out and talking with him.

Within 24 hours, we were both upgraded to lesbians – by a third party, in order to put the kaibosh on the whore talk. (SURPRISE LESBIANS *BOO!*)

See – the thing that irritates me is that it’s been months since I’ve actually BEEN with anybody.

It’s almost like mockery.

You suck, girl that doesn’t know me – but I sure wish I was getting laid as much as you seem to think I am.