Blurry Edges

I'm drawn to this photograph for many reasons. Yes, I used  this picture in my last blog post, the provocative, "world turned upside down" soothsayer entry. But, I return today to study the colors, the shapes of the trees, the blurry edges, and the specks of white that dot the scene.  This is a lowly I phone picture taken at the Japanese Garden at Manito Park in Spokane over the Labor Day weekend two weeks ago. I was standing on a wooden bridge that crossed over a serene pool swimming with koi. At once mesmerizing and calming, I felt a slight breeze of cool air in the midst of a very warm day. I looked down into the water and the reflection of the shimmering trees and clouds above looked back at me. The visual experience was, let's say, "nice" at the time and I thought a photo remembrance might be good. I'd been taking I phone pictures all afternoon and this one was just another.

But, when I actually had time to look at this photograph, I connected more deeply.The colors are lovely and muted. The water and sky become one and the reflected trees are upside down, their crispness distorted into  blurred edges.  Reminds me a bit of a 19th century painting by Manet or Monet. There is mystery and magic here.

Perception is not reality and reality is not perception.

I am awash in changing emotions and thoughts. The photograph gives me some comfort right now and this is what I need most.

So Sayeth the Soothsayer......

My last post was exactly two weeks ago, on my Birthday. It was a happy, good day. I alluded to something I did that I had never done before in addition to all the other lovely things that consumed my day. What was that thing?

I visited the psychic, the tarot reader, the soothsayer.

I've never had my palm read nor have I had my cards read. But, driving by his place of business every day on my way home from work coupled with a bit of hyped-up curiosity, I walked in for a consultation. Much like a seasoned professional, in fact much like the work I do....if you ask the right questions and look carefully at body language, you're 80 percent there. He told me nothing I didn't already know.

But, he did say with a modicum of urgency and emphasis, "It's going to get worse".  "It" is what we talked about. Did he say this to entice me to come back and use phrases like "I guarantee I can help you" to keep me engaged?  Likely. Unfortunately, for his wallet, the promise of a guaranteed success story didn't work. I will not be going back. Who in their right mind tells a doctor they can guarantee anything? Especially not when we're talking of matters out of our control. Come on.

But he was right to tell me that things would get worse. Although it's a pretty good bet in most settings, he was spot on here. 48 hours later my life changed forever and flipped upside down.

Spooktacular Stats for 2011

Chinese numerology and Feng Shui for 2011: 


This year we experience four unusual dates: 
1/1/11, 1/11/11, 11/11/11, and that's not all;


Take the last two digits of the year you were born and
the age you will be this year and the result will add up
to 111 for everyone!


This is also the year of MONEY. (not sure about that one yet...)

Also, this year October had 5 Saturdays, 5 Sundays, and 5 Mondays. 
This happens only once every 823 years!


I hope everyone enjoyed their 5 weekends this month!
Happy Halloween!

Back On Line

When last I logged in and posted on Ahead of the Wave, photographs dominated, words a scarcity. Feeling there was little to say but at the same time much to express, I took a break not knowing if it would be my goodbye from blogging or an interim hiatus. Turns out the pull tugs at me again.  Initial relief from the perceived bondage of having to post something relevant, funny, sad, interesting or otherwise worthwhile gradually gave way to thoughts of potential blog fodder.

For weeks I've tried to imagine my re-entry post musing: do I just start writing again like nothing happened or do I try to explain myself?  Probably no one cares anyway; well, that's not exactly true since a few people (counted on one hand) noticed I wasn't writing regularly.

Anyway, there are many "things", going on.

Summer is well underway although you'd never know it by the weather. Today was foggy and cool until well after 10 AM; felt just like early fall. I'm glad that it's not hot but still....

Work absorbs me totally and even when I'm not physically on the job, I play like I am with the online capabilities of the computer. This schedule is unusual for me but in the last 21 days, I've been on call for 15 of those 24 hour blocks of time. I made it through; the first week tougher than the second owing to a cold caught on the flight back from Kaui'i in late June. Now I'm reveling in two days off and feeling light, slightly inspired, and relieved to have time to sit in my nightgown until noon. Delighting in the sound of the trucks picking up the trash, recycling and yard waste makes my home lighter too. I love to purge stuff, 5S, unload, get rid of, throw out and see more air between my things.

I have a list of small tasks to accomplish today; nothing drastic or dramatic. Buy stamps, deposit checks, vacuum carpets, empty the dishwasher, water the plants, write a few checks. Oh, and visit my Dad..... but that's a more complicated task as I try so hard to make a difference in the life of a frail  94 year old man. More on this later.

I'm thinking about the moment; the empty nester's quiet.

I'm thinking about my grown kids and about how our adult relationship changes but yet, doesn't change.

I'm learning about the Mediterranean diet and want desperately to eat healthier. I still am in love with diet Red Bull and pray it's not going to become a product linked with cancer of this or that down the line.

I'm thinking about consciously purchasing local products, supporting the local economy, and pondering where my food comes from. Why do we call pig, "pork" and cow, "beef"?.....and stuff like that. What really happens in the mainstream food processing plants of America?

I'm acknowledging the importance of communicating directly with the source of our human problems instead of gossiping and groaning to others (unless it's my significant other with whom I unload my angst because that doesn't count). :)

I'm pondering what it means to really know that when the sun sets each day there is one less day to live. What do I really want to do with the days left on my life's calendar?

More to come. I'm thinking again and (almost) on The Edge of Glory.

Stay tuned.

Lovely Diversions

When work and related pressures threaten to knock me off base, retreat into one of a number of lovely diversions offers relief.

This past week mental exhaustion was beaten back by:




1. A great book: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I've been reading the book and listening to the audio version when on the road. This is a great tale and totally mesmerizing. I can't wait to get started  with Stieg Larsson's next two books in this millennium trilogy. I've seen people reading this book for several years and have had a copy for some time; finally decided now was the time and indeed, the time is oh, so right.

2. A totally addictive TV series: LOST. I'm hooked. Denny and I started with Season 1 back in January. It was a slow-go getting excited about watching the series but by the time we made it to Season 3 we were both hooked. Now we're flying through the episodes. Did you know there are 124 episodes covering six seasons? I hate to see this wildly provocative run come to an end. Some of the episodes are like watching the night sky on a clear night; pondering the expanse of the universe and feeling totally unable to comprehend space and time. I've heard so many people rave about LOST and have to wonder: where I was all those years when the show was broadcast week to week on ABC? Obviously doing something else. Hmmmm.

3. My bad; Dreyer's Coffee Ice Cream: sprinkled with mini-chocolate chips, of course.

So there you have my three suggestions for a grand evening after a long day at work.

Gifts: Tangible and Emotional

Prompt for Dec 30: Gift. This month, gifts and gift-giving can seem inescapable. What's the most memorable gift, tangible or emotional, you received this year? (Author: Holly Root)


Some of these prompts are quite easy; I just "pull" from earlier posts, pick a title and call it a response.  As for gifts, there were many this year.

The Wave Sculpture is that tangible gift to be treasured as a source of mystical beauty and inspiration as I move forward with my blog and other creative energies. Ever so tangible, a delight and a piece which makes me very happy. Thank you, Denny.

The emotional gift of the year would have to be that single crow's feather, underneath my sofa amidst the dust bunnies, waiting to be discovered; a message from beyond that says, "My darling; I am fine. I made my journey safely."  Thank you, Mom.

The Feather Showed Up

When it happened, I was surprised. I stopped what I was doing and said, out loud..."Is that you, Mom?" I wasn't sure; this was not the drama I had hoped for. Somehow I had envisioned walking out my front door into a snowstorm of white feathers. This would be my sign, my message from the beyond sent by Mom saying, "Yes, my darling, I've arrived safely and am doing fine."

This is the actual feather....

Just after noon today, a month to the day of her death, while swiping the dust mop underneath the large sectional sofa in our family room, out popped this feather amidst the dust bunnies. How weird is that? Why would a crow's feather find its way under our couch?

I wanted to deny the significance of this substantial black feather found inside my house. Placing it on the window sill, I rationalized that I'd think about this "find" later. Later.

When Denny saw the feather tonight, he asked about the circumstances and was blown away by my recitation. His confidence in the significance of this find, four weeks to the day after her death and considering that we've never found a feather in our house before, made me weep. Again.

She loved crows and ravens; their savvy ways, their persistence and keen eye. Always watching, ever vigilant. Few people find crows anything more than a nuisance. Not Mom.

This feather is jet black and large. No question that it comes from a crow.

I think I received my message. Thanks Mom.

Let Her Soar Most High

Doris Bain Thompson

August 10, 1917-October 12, 2010

"She who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, 'He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in who I trust.'

'Because she loves me,' says the Lord, 'I will rescue her; I will protect her, for she acknowledges my name. She will call upon me, and I will answer her; I will be with her in trouble, I will deliver her and honor her. With long life I will satisfy her and show her my salvation.'"

91st Psalm (shortened and personalized)

Bibliophile's Dream Come True

I'm just back from my first visit to the annual fall Friends of Seattle Public Library book sale. For many years I've wanted to check this event out, having heard wonderful things about the selection and low prices. Today was my chance and I've come away enchanted, impressed, and laden down with two bags of books. Most titles sold for a dollar. Fiction, biography, books on the craft of writing, and some old classics found a place in my stash. After two hours and aching arms from carrying an ever heavier load of books, I decided to wrap up and drag my loot to the car. My only misstep?  I forgot to bring a camera. The photos would have been fabulous.

I arrived just after 9 AM and there was already a long line stretching all the way around the building. Once the doors opened things moved quickly. The enormous interior of the building was a book lover's paradise. Nothing fancy but aisle after aisle of books divided by category, laid out in cardboard boxes on tables, and people everywhere looking for their personal treasure. The sight of so many book lovers (and books) under one roof was glorious if not a bit frenetic.

from the Seattle Times

Ten, of many, observations about the Book Fair:

1. I love hearing people talk to each other about books they've found; like unearthed gifts. "Have you read this?" "I've heard this one is fantastic."

2. People bring more than bags or boxes to carry their books; I saw people with rolling suitcases, heavy-duty opaque trash bags, and small shopping carts. Hard core shoppers, these.

3. There are some book titles that appear and re-appear endlessly. I saw dozens of copies of Pigs in Heaven (Kinsolver), Stones From the River (Hegi), The Mermaid Chair (Kidd), The Lovely Bones (Sebold) and Atonement (McEwan) mixed in randomly, popping up everywhere.

4. I was amazed pouring over the paperback fiction books how many titles I had read and in many cases own. It felt good to be reminded that I read. A lot.

5. Wow! There were hardbacks looking as good as new that I've either read or own that were published in the past year; all for a buck!

6. People weren't pushy. Polite and nice. Seattleites.

7. Despite the mass of people, things were organized. I love organized. Even paying and parking were organized.

8. If you are looking for a specific title, finding it may be a challenge.

9. It's easy to become overwhelmed by the presence of 200,000 books for sale but it's heaven nonetheless.

10. There's some kind of magic holding a book in your hands; the anticipation of the read, the wonder, the hope that this one will "blow me away".

from Friends of  SPL website

The Wave

I'm half way through The Wave by Susan Casey. What an incredible read. I'm fascinated by waves and love to adventure vicariously amidst all that power, roiling blue and crushing foam.  Guess what I'm doing tonight? The Seattle Public Library hosts author Susan Casey at the downtown library from 7 to 8:30 PM; she'll be discussing her book and taking questions. I'll be right there in the audience and will be interested to see who else shares my passion for waves.

Susan is quoted as saying, "The ocean is my church". I get it. Truly.

What is the Color of Water?

What is the color of water?

I haven't a clue although the question crosses into consciousness on a regular basis.

A glass of water resting at my bedside, the rushing river powered by snow melt off the mountains, the peaceful glacial lake in the North Cascades, the rolling waves of the southern Caribbean pounding the north coastline of a certain volcanic island.......what color?

What of the day-in, day-out color of the Hudson River, the working waterway of the northeast? The river that flows both ways also known as Muhheakantuck by the Native Americans is the subject of Spencer Finch's art installation in Manhattan's newest park, the High Line. Located in the Chelsea Market overpass, the expanse of stained glass panes appears at first look to be part of the old building that once housed the above ground railway. Not.

The plaque on the wall tells all. Artist Spencer Finch "from a tugboat drifting on Manhattan's west side and past the High Line,  photographed the river's surface once every minute. The color of each pane of glass was based on a single pixel point in each photograph and arranged chronologically in the tunnel’s existing steel mullions. Time is translated into a grid, reading from left to right and top to bottom, capturing the varied reflective and translucent conditions of the water's surface. The work, like the river, is experienced differently depending on the light levels and atmospheric conditions of the site. In this narrative orientation, the glass reveals Finch's impossible quest for the color of water".

As much as I love the shifting qualities inherent in the color of water in this impressively large piece (some 720 individual panes of stained glass), what amazes me is how easily we (I) forget that water reflects back the ambient light and how quickly conditions change moment to moment if we dare to notice. Water is all these shades of itself, from inky black to white.

All this brings me back to the the mesmerizing color of the Caribbean waters of Aruba. Wouldn't such a wall of stained glass reflecting the complexity of her colors amaze and delight?  Another project, Mr. Finch?

Happy Birthday Wave Sculpture

Today is my 56th Birthday.  Check out what my dear husband gifted me with today.....in honor of our mutual love of the wave, my passion for blogging at Ahead of the Wave and the celebration of this, my special day.

Earlier this summer we stumbled on the gorgeous glass sculptures of David Wight displayed in an art gallery in LaConner, Washington. David creates his art in Bellingham, sharing his passion for the wave by depicting the three dimensional form the instant before the wave breaks, the precise moment of peak power.  He says: "With my sculpture I work to capture the beauty, grace, and power of water in its most dynamic form: the wave.Using the molten liquid of hot glass, I endeavor to create, by hand, a glass sculpture that embodies the essence of movement in water. Each sculpture is distinctly unique."

Oh my, but I love this glorious piece of art. The colors, the form, the force of movement caught in a single instant, frozen in time.

So beautiful from every angle, forceful yet graceful, the impending implosion of water against water, spraying foam and power, taking my breath away.

Art and Life

Paul Cezanne 

 

 

 

Skyline Divide Hike, Mt. Baker, WA

Still whirling from the contrast between the wilderness of the North Cascade Mountains and the sophistication of the big city, I found these images an interesting visual comment on art and life.

"For Many are Called but Few are Chosen"

" For many are called, but few are chosen."
              Matthew 22: 14 (King James Bible)

Why am I thinking of this passage from the Bible? For one thing, I've heard my mother quote this passage  many, many times as a young girl growing up.  Trouble is, I can't remember the context. I might take a risk and ask her now. Her mind for topics unrelated to the present moment can be spot on; she might be able to enlighten me.

This biblical quote comes to mind every time I stop to inspect our night blooming cereus plant. Each summer we can expect to witness the magnificence of at least two blooms from this scraggly mess of a plant that sits in our bedroom near the south facing glass doors to the deck. This summer I've watched as several small buds have appeared; the promise of a blooming flower weeks away. And then, mysteriously, the young buds dry up and fall off the plant. Of all that attempted the journey to maturity, only one has held the course. Tonight may be the night she blooms. I see the telltale puffiness of the still tightly enfolded bud, the sign of readiness for the one night of glory. Night blooming cereus flowers bloom in the fading light of dusk and last but for six to eight hours before they die, limp and dangling on the stalk that once supported their growth to magnificence.

This photo from two weeks ago shows the maturing flower bud growing off the side of the green leaf.







Earlier this week, it was clear this bloom would achieve its moment of majesty.

The bulging, nascent white of the petals say that tonight may be "the night".






These dessicated baby buds never made it. There were likely many others that I didn't find, involuted and returned to the earth before their moment in the moonlight. 

Indeed. "For many are called, but few are chosen."

While on the Subject of Ducks....

Isn't it curious that when we're on one subject, like say....Duck Crossing, something else comes along that fits in perfectly? This photo came in an email about the upcoming Boston Marathon. The photo was taken by David Paul Ohmer. The sculpture of the mother and eight chicks, created by Nancy Schon can be found in the Boston Public Gardens. The sculpture was inspired by the children's picture book, Make Way For Ducklings by Robert Mcloskey. Sweet ducks these......

Even sweeter is this story of the downtown Spokane banker who helped rescue baby ducks from a window ledge and lead mama and chicks to water. Enjoy!

Duck Crossing

This isn't the clearest of photographs; I snapped this shot from the driver's seat of my car the other day on the way to work in Federal Way. I love this sign; brings a smile to my face every time I drive by. Funny thing though, I've never seen any ducks (or geese?) anywhere in the vicinity. I'll have to keep a more watchful eye.

Six Down, Four to Go

Yesterday I finished up my 6th session of "acupuncture plus", as I like to call these treatments for my nagging chronic shoulder condition known as adhesive capsulitis. Josie, of Four Season Healing Center, is helping me make some headway in improving what would otherwise be several years of chronic (tolerable but extremely annoying) pain. Although there's definite progress going on, these conditions can be slow to respond.

I must confess: I haven't been doing my "homework" as Josie refers to the outside-of-the-office exercises that augment what we do in the one hour sessions. I really feel that if I had been doing the breathing techniques, stretching, moxa, massage routines, and gua sha as instructed, I might be farther along. Today I made a commitment to doing all of these as directed. I have the time. I sometimes lack the motivation and am too distracted by dumb things like checking email for the tenth time in a day or playing another round of Bejeweled Blitz. Sigh.

Onward. Four more treatments to go over the next month.

Saturday Seemed Like Sunday

I believe this is a universal experience......living a day that seems like another day. This doesn't happen often, maybe a few times a year for me. But, for the entire day I walk about disoriented, firmly planted in a different day of the week and continually surprised when I get pulled back into reality. The day is usually the next one up and it's usually on a weekend.

Yesterday was Saturday all day. But, it seemed like Sunday all day. The curious thing about this phenomenon is that when I ask other people if they feel the same way, frequently they do. Saturday felt like Sunday for my sister, my husband, and my daughter yesterday. Why is that? What is that about?

I was shocked that the library and the banks were open (on as Saturday?) until I put myself back into Saturday mode. I kept thinking that "tomorrow I will have to do this, that and the other when in reality I had an extra day in between myself and Monday.

Have you any insights as to why this happens? And, more curiously why do others often feel the same way? Weird. Cosmic forces?

Gua Sha

Yesterday I had my second acupuncture treatment for this pesky shoulder condition known as adhesive capsulitis. Turns out that shoulder woes plus what I like to call "computer spine" has my upper back and chest in knots. Working out the kinks in the muscles and stretching out my shoulders is a tall order but I'm determined to let Josie work on me in whatever way she feels best.

My practitioner is trained in more than traditional acupuncture techniques. She also is licensed to dispense Chinese herbal preparations (I'm wary of those ever since I learned about Chinese herb nephropathy), teaches the healing technique of Qi Gong, and incorporates other elements into her acupuncture sessions. One is fire cupping which I wrote about earlier.

Yesterday she discussed another technique with me, this one called Gua Sha (also known as scraping). Although highly recommended for what ails me she admitted, "I don't want to scare you."Hmmmm. The technique involves intentional brisk and firm scraping of the skin (usually the back) with an object like the one shown here. The goal is to see redness develop, a sign that stagnant toxins are (finally) being released from the tight muscles. If there is no redness, the area doesn't need help apparently.

Truly, it didn't hurt. But, Josie took me to a mirror after the treatment to show me the redness on my back and to reassure me that this was totally normal and would fade over a few days. It was pretty darn dramatic but the lack of discomfort (more of a burning than anything) was amazing. Today I've been a bit sore but not too bad and my upper back is moving better. I went on line to learn more about Gua Sha and found this short video.

She also gave me some more exercises to do at home to complement the work she's doing in the one hour comprehensive acupuncture sessions. I'm feeling like this may help; the techniques have been around for thousands of years. Western medicine has little to offer me at this point. I don't think I've much to lose and lots to gain.

Of Talents, Gifts, and Dreams

I've more to say on the subject of dreams. Weeks back I posted about some of the weird and wacky dreams I've recalled come morning. We all are dreaming nightly, "they say", but most dreams never register into our daytime consciousness.

As I sit here on this early Sunday morning the skies are still dark and the coffee brewing all too slowly in the kitchen. I remember snippets of my dream from last night.

I am a student again, taking classes in medical school. But, the strange thing is, I am already a doctor fully trained so why I am in school isn't clear. Renal Physiology is taught by a master, someone I've known in the past, someone who in non-dream life is deceased, his life cut short by a devastating heart attack when he was in his early sixties. This already sounds way too convoluted.

True to form, I've missed the first class and have to admit this to the snooty course coordinator the next day as I pick up the course materials. She shakes her head and says, "The first assignment is due on Friday and the test is after that." She goes on to acknowledge that the topics are so complex that even after all her years listening to the chief deliver the lectures, she'd never be able to pass even the first test.

Lecture 1, which I've missed, covers the renal handling of potassium, a subject in "real life" which continues to fascinate me and for which I feel I'll never really have grip beyond the basic talking points. The lecture outline and diagrams are gorgeous, beauty to behold (I've always loved great study guides and visuals, especially in relation to renal physiology) Wow, I think, missing this lecture was poor timing and here's the course coordinator adding fuel to the fire by admonishing me that an assignment and test are on the horizon, implying it will be an uphill battle for me to catch up having missed only one of his lectures. (She doesn't know that I'm already a fully trained nephrologist, I say to myself).

On my way out of the office, I drop my handbag and everything spills out. I hear Professor Hebert who has been wandering about in the background and who spies me, requests that his assistant ask if amongst all my stuff scattered on the carpet might there be a tube (unopened) of toothpaste? In "real life" there was such a mini-tube, the type you get from the dentist's office, in my purse yesterday. Ahhhh, the nature of dreams to weave reality and fantasy in the most twisted ways.

The dream ended but I know from a deep place the message is prescient.

I'm struggling these days with just how to use my talents (writing and teaching) in such a way that I'm ignited with passion rather than beaten down by self doubt and criticism.

I'll think on this; the dream and the real life realities.

If we are blessed with talent(s), must we use them? Are our gifts our destiny?