Today’s Spiritual Woman A magazine for women who want to explore their inner spirit and share with women all over the world.
Brenda Erickson
Winter Issue 2013
http://wattsupwiththat.com/2008/10/12/boise-gets-earliest-snow-on-record/
MASABI Staff 2
Lola Carlile Ph. D. Art Therapist & Editor of Today’s Spiritual Woman Cin Broyles Digital Creative Editor & Advertisement Liaison Mind and Spirit and Body Improvement is proud to present our Winter 2013 issue of Today’s Spiritual Woman. We would like to thank every contributor to this issue and are always looking for new submissions. Please send your artistic expression for inclusion by E-mailing our Editor, Lola.
todayspiritualwoman@gmail.com
Advertisers! Tell us about your services or products. Full page for $200.00, half page $100.00, quarter page $50.00, your business card for $25.00 for photo ready advertisements. If you need us to create a graphic ad for you, we would be happy to for an additional $20.00 with the inclusion of your own logo and images. For more information or to place your advertisement, E-mail Cin Broyles. cinbroyles.masabi@yahoo.com
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Advertisement Internship Available Help build awareness, revenue, and support for MASABI and Today’s Spiritual Woman Magazine. Qualified individuals may send in cover letter and resumé for this internship with possible commission to todayspiritualwoman@gmail.com. The position is ideal for a marketing or advertisement student in the Willamette Valley.
http://www.businessinsider.com/interns-voted-these-are-their-20-favorite-advertising-internships-in-the-us-2012-6?op=1
The views and opinions expressed in the articles of Today’s Spiritual Woman are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of MASABI or the staff of TSW. We encourage authors of our articles in their diversity and ask that as you read you keep an open heart and mind. Today’s Spiritual Woman
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In the within
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Mind
Spirit
Night Terrors Facebook~May NOT Be Healthy For You Amtrak Adventure Moody Action Group
Essay on Womanhood No Wonder Our Country is Losing Its Religion Featured Artist Brenda Erickson Yona’s Journey along the Trail of Tears A New Beginning Catherine of Aragon - 1535 Love Letter Penchant for the Pen Acts Facebook Tip Health Benifits of Aloe Vera My First Love Died Last Night Christmas With Jesus This Year REMINDER Friends on Facebook
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depth of winter, I finally learned that n me there lay an invincible summer.
~Albert Camus~
http://www.sccs.swarthmore.edu/users/06/adem/personal/swarthmore/index.php?page=2
Body
Improvement
Do all you can with what you have in the time you have in the place you are…. Heal Thyself With Tapping Kicking the new year off right My Inheritance When it’s cold, eat some quick potato pierogi
Cheating as a Way to Write and Make Big Bucks.… Tears of the Horse What I Learned about Engagement, Motivation, and Leadership from a 13-Month Old. The Time Has Come India
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Today’s Spiritual Woman
Night Terrors By Gwynn Rogers
“Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me! I want people to know why I look this way. I’ve traveled a long way and some of the roads weren’t paved.” Author Unknown Now as I look out into the depths of the oak trees nestled in the gully just off the bay behind my house, the dark shadows beneath the trees remind me of a very dark, cloudy, late night long ago. When I was a little girl of approximately three, my parents, my younger brother, Jim, and I lived down by the shores of Lake Washington amongst acres of fields, few homes, and woods that housed bobcat, porcupine, raccoons, coyotes, and deer.
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Our father’s severe traveling schedule meant we only saw dad one weekend a month. This left mom to grow our food on an acre and a half of land, care for the house, and care for two small children - alone. Mom and dad desperately needed some time alone, so mom arranged for a friend to babysit for a few days, leaving Jim and me behind. One particular late night, Virginia, the neighbor who lived across the road down by the lake, heard frightened screams of a small child. It was too late and not safe for a child of any size to be out alone. Listening, obviously something was wrong, so Virginia quickly threw on some clothes, headed outside and up the hill, crossed the road, and looked to see if she could track down the crying child. There across the oiled gravel road, wandering among the trees along the side of the road Virginia spied a small child - me. My feet were bare and I was dressed in my nightgown. My bare feet and the hem of my nightgown were soaked from the late night dew in the long grass. Strangely, I didn’t seem to know where I was going. I was lost and screaming for my mother. Approaching, Virginia swooped me up into her arms to calm me as she carried me across the lawn and driveway toward our 3,500 square foot Swiss chalet style house. The front door was unlocked as none of the neighbors locked their doors in those days. MASABI
Since Virginia and mom were friends, Virginia had visited with my mother many times so she easily found her way into the house, through the dark living room lit by the moonlight, down the long hall behind the kitchen, through the recreation room, and up the stairs to the bedrooms. No sounds stirred from the bedrooms, as the babysitter obviously hadn’t heard my plaintive cries. Angrily, Virginia flipped on the master bedroom light where the babysitter lay sound asleep oblivious to the event that had just unfolded. Slowly, and groggily the babysitter looked up, only to be told to pay better attention to me and my brother as I had been found outside by myself scared out of my wits. After rudely flipping off the master bedroom light, Virginia kindly took me to my bedroom that I shared with my baby brother, and tucked me back into bed before she let herself back out of the house. I still remember how terrified I felt waking with wet feet out in the lawn, not knowing where I was or how I got there. I still wonder to this day where I had wondered before Virginia found me. Repeatedly, I had a habit of sleep-walking from the time I was a small toddler until I was approximately six years old, but mother never believed me. Mom would repeatedly ask me why I was up, but of course I didn’t know so mother would threaten me with her hairbrush. Mom was convinced that I was lying to her, and to prevent getting hit, I would come up with a story. Mom would continue to question me and of course I didn’t have the right answers so she hit me anyway. One time I fell part way down our cement basement steps as I unknowingly opened and walked through the wrong door. Even after this event, mom never believed that I had no idea of what I was doing. Now, many years later I learned that sleep walking is quite common with children, but usually from the ages of approximately six years old until about 12 years of age. Also, sleep walking is genetic. I learned that children who sleep walk are usually normal in every respect but a few studies have suggested that in some cases children may have inner conflicts that they are not able to verbalize. And in a few cases, family counseling and reassurance have been all the therapy necessary for children with frequent parasomnias. Unfortunately, my parents didn’t believe in counseling either. Experts recommend that when finding a child who is sleep-walking that you slowly steer the child back toward bed. Even though the child’s eyes may be open or the child is talking the child is not aware of what he/she is doing. Don’t attempt to wake the child, but slowly tuck the child Today’s Spiritual Woman
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back in bed. Also, consider child-proofing the house to make it safe by locking windows and doors so the child can’t fall out windows or go through doors out into the woods alone. Learning this information, for me, was like having the moon come out from behind those clouds to light up the sky. Even though these events took place many years ago, mom consistently for the rest of her life told me that she could never believe me. She never accepted that I didn’t know what I was doing when I was younger, and sadly I had created the stories to protect myself from getting hit… to no avail.
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Now, as an adult, I have learned the negative consequences of how mom’s treatment impacted me in my working and adult life, as mom and I never reached a resolution on this issue. However, remembering these events made it crucial to me to work at being a different mom than my mother was – more loving and understanding of my children. The good news is that these events are part of my impetus for volunteering for many years for organizations that help children.
http://2sad-eyes.deviantart.com/art Sleepwalking-127923678
"Where we love is home, home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts" - Oliver Wendell Holmes American Physician, Professor, Author (1809-1894)
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http://www.barefootbooks.com/marketplace/35467
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Animal Boogle Mini Cube Puzzle $12.99 Puzzle
Bear in a Square $6.99 Paperback
African Animals ABC $7.99 Paperback
Barefoot Bear Gift Set $39.99 Gift Set
Abuelita Fue Mercado $6.99 Paperback
Whole World Mini Edition $9.99 Hardcover W Music CD
Today’s Spiritual Woman
Facebook May NOT Be Healthy For You An increasing number of studies have found a correlation between Facebook use and ill effects on our mental and physical health. Here are the five to watch out for. These days, Facebook is just a part of life. In December 2011, the preeminent social network boasted more than 845 million active monthly users, with 483 million of those using the site daily. And a 2011 study by market research firm Nielsen shows that the average Facebook user spends four times as many hours on the network each month as he or she spends on any other site. Like getting too little sleep, drinking, smoking, or sunbathing, the increasing number of hours we spend on Facebook is surely affecting our health, right? Below, five ways experts believe Facebook could be hurting our mental health.
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1. Eating disorders Pinterest isn’t the only social network that makes people feel bad about themselves. According to a recent survey of 600 Facebook users, ages 16 to 40, by the Center for Eating Disorders at Sheppard Pratt, more than half say that seeing pictures of themselves and others on the site “makes them more conscious about their own body and their weight.” And it wasn’t only females who felt the burn; 40 percent of male respondents said they comment negatively about their own bodies on Facebook photos. On top of that, 32-percent said they feel “sad” when comparing photos of themselves to pictures of their friends. And 44-percent said they wished they had the same body or weight as their friends, when looking at photos on Facebook. Oftentimes individuals will sit, read and eat, consuming far more calories than they are aware.
2. Low self-esteem and depression This falls in the same vein as poor body image: an increasing number of studies have found that posts by our friends make us feel worse about our own lives. This is due to the fact that we naturally compare ourselves to our peers. If the people around us are posting happy, significant life accomplishments (which happens every day, if you have a lot of friends), then we feel worse about our lack of having anything good to report. This is exacerbated by the fact that people usually choose to post good things about their lives, rather than the bad things, which skews our perception of reality even further. Experts suggest limiting the number of friends you have on MASABI
Facebook.
3. Psychological disorders In addition to making us depressed, Facebook may also be making our kids crazy — literally. Dr. Larry D. Rosen, a professor of psychology at California State University, Dominguez Hills, last year released a study that concluded that teenagers and young adults who spend much of their time on Facebook are at a higher risk of developing a cornucopia of psychological disorders, including mania, paranoia, aggressive tendencies, and antisocial behavior. Moreover, Facebook may add fuel to the fire in those teens who display narcissistic tendencies, by allowing them to broadcast their unhealthy self-love 24/7.
4. Stress Posting “happy birthday” on your friend’s Wall may be less stressful than actually attending a party or even sending a card. But that doesn’t mean Facebook is making your life any easier. Dr. Kathy Charles of Edinburgh Napier University released a study early last year, which showed that, of the 200 people she surveyed, a majority felt some type of stress in relation to the social network, and 12-percent said the site makes them feel anxious. Those with a large number of Facebook friends experienced the most stress. Dr. Charles also found that many become stressed at the thought of missing out on something good posted to the site, a phenomenon now known as the “fear of missing out,” which has become so widespread it has its own acronym (FOMO). Others are stressed that their friends may be blocking certain things from their viewing. Others feel left out and are sometimes the object of ridicule and bullying by other Facebook individuals.
5. Addiction Up there with sex addiction, and good ol’ fashioned Internet addiction hangs a new monkey on our backs: Facebook addiction. Researchers at the University of Chicago recently analyzed more than 8,000 reports of everyday desires from 250 participants, and found that quitting Facebook (and Twitter) was more difficult than giving up cigarettes or alcohol. This follow a study of Web search analytics data by marketing firm The Internet Time Machine, which shows that the term “Facebook addiction” has become one of the most searched-for terms in this category, (with things like “alcohol addiction” still ranking higher on the list). As with stress, Facebook addiction has been linked to FOMO.
http://www.digitaltrends.com/social-media/five-ways-facebook-can-be-bad-for-your-mental-health/#ixzz2G8LSDzMd
Today’s Spiritual Woman
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Teaching Literacy in a Global Society The Big Book of Reading Authored by Vye Carlile Ph.D.
Teaching Literacy in a Global Society is an informational text that will guide the reader to understand the nuances of teaching reading. It serves as a general guide to the many components involved in teaching and learning to read. Publication Date: Apr 25 2012 ISBN/EAN13: 1469906406 / 9781469906409 Page Count: 164 Binding Type: US Trade Paper Trim Size: 6" x 9" Language: English Color: Black and White Related Categories: Education / Teaching Methods & Materials / Reading
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https://www.createspace.com/3770052
About the author: Vye Carlile is a veteran teacher who secretly loves to read picture books in her spare time! Dr. Carlile has over 38-years of teaching every grade except for 2nd. Her unique style of making reading appealing to even the most uninterested potential reader is reflected in her many awards, including Salem’s Crystal Apple Award. She teaches with enthusiasm and a special nod to all the intelligences - not just the auditory and verbal so often the only way school is experienced. Dr. Carlile is not only a reader, teacher, and counselor, she is also a writer. Past editor of Today’s Spiritual Woman, she also has written five children’s books and one novel. In her spare time she travels, stalks her sons on Facebook, and spreads art therapy throughout her community.
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Amtrak Adventure By Evelyn Celli as told to her sister
Was I to climb those circular small stairs leading to the top of a submarine or something? Was she kidding? With my bad knees, hurt back, and weight, not to mention my suitcase needing to accompany me. . . .the beginning of a nightmarish tour rather than an adventure. . . . or maybe an adventure into hell? The attendant herded two other women who were obviously in need of remaining in the lower level as well – the one was crying as she climbed the stairs wailing, “I have gout. I can’t do this!” The attendant retorted loudly, “Well, I got gout, too. Ain’t it horrible?” Uh, maybe that attendant needed another job – her supply of empathy, not to mention, customer service was a bit lacking. I’m being nice as I write this, but at that moment I was wailing, too, and not caring who heard…
somewhat….
I can still hear the resounding, “It’s gonna be an adventure!” as my sister tried to assure me that our planned trip to California to see our brother was not only gonna be fun, but something out of the ordinary for us. We sisters usually haven’t had adventures outside the confines of either of our homes. So this was gonna be a first for me. The second omen other than my heart beating rapidly and a sense of foreboding was when the train arrived at the Salem station and as we began to board and hunt for a seat in the lower level, a smart mouthed and very weary car attendant crisply noted we had to walk upstairs. Our self printed tickets did not say lower level, yet they did indicate “disabled.”
. Upon finding our seats we also found someone sitting in them! Uh, these are our seats, my adventurous sister almost shouted. The woman whose girth equaled my sister’s and mine looked scared. We were not to be fooled with at this point. My sister gazed about and found an empty seat, asked the obese gentleman sitting there if that was anyone’s and he said no – “GO! Sit there,” my sister politely demanded….and we sat down. Sister moved the luggage two seats behind right by the door. “But, my stuff….” Her look shut me down. After wiggling and squirming, she finally settled in, but I was not to find peace….
A light bulb almost exploded in my head: if I don’t get some sleep and if my adventurous sister doesn’t get any, we are going to truly enter Today’s Spiritual Woman
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the abode of hell. So I lay my blanket down on the floor and tell sister to spread out on the two seats. And we try to get some semblance of sleep. Not that lying on the floor is a good thing – my back could not stand sitting up or almost sitting up all night. I had to lie flat. What to do about my feet? Everyone should be sleeping, right? So, my feet stuck out a few inches into the walkway and boy, did everyone have to go
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through our car to wherever they were going? Was it a parade? After about 20 steps on my feet and about 4 hours of trying to sleep, I escaped back to the seats once more. Sister moved over and let me in and then the barrage of talk began. Right behind us sat Maybelle and her hubby, Ralph. Oh, my goodness, we learned more than we ever wanted to learn about Maybelle and her family. “Are we near Chenault? Ralph, dear, are we? I can’t find my phone and it’s ringing. Where is it? Hello? Hello? We are on the train. Yes, we are on the train now. We are going to Chenault. I’m not sure where that is. Ralph, do you know how far Chenault is?”
Groans from us. Picture the following conversation in a very loud, old lady voice:
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“Oh, Ralph, the phone is ringing again. I can’t find it. Where DID I put it? Hello? Yes, we are on the train. On the train. Yes, on the train. Going to Chenault. I don’t know how far away it is, but Dad might know…” On and on. Droning stories about the trains and Chenault and rings and phones and after two hours of this I felt like slapping Maybelle and telling her to shut up and go to sleep. My sister sat there smugly ‘cause she thought it was funny. It was when she started to talk just like Maybelle. “Uh, Ev-uh-lin, where is Chenault? Do YOU know where it is? Oh, my!” She was delirious and I had to stifle a snicker as she continued her harangue. By now Chenault was the stop. Maybelle and Ralph got off with a huff at us and smiles at the others on the train. We began to munch on the goodies sister had thoughtfully packed before our adventure. Munching on fruit, sipping apple juice, and eating our fried chicken, we settled down for the remainder of the trip. Oh, why didn’t we get a sleeping car going to Sac? Well, I’m not gonna go there, but believe me, first they didn’t have a room. Then they did. Then the Amtrak office said the conductor had to sell the room. Then she said she didn’t have a phone. They said she was wrong. She said she had no room. They said she did. She said they didn’t. That was interwoven through Maybelle’s diatribe about Chenault…. Bathroom stops? Nope! After fourteen hours on the train we ate at a fast food place when our brother picked us up and slept all day at his house. Yep, it was an adventure and I worried about the return trip. Sister promised it was gonna be different ‘cause she got us a sleeping
car. Yes, they had one and, yes, they sold it to her, and, yes, it said sleeping car on our tickets. So much for adventures. Let the fun begin.
Â
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Today’s Spiritual Woman
Moody Action Group Are you moody and searching for tools with which to handle those troublesome ups and downs of life? Whether or not you are diagnosed as bipolar, this group may be useful for you! $12 per class (10 sessions in all) $100 if paid in full by first class $10 nonrefundable registration fee
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5:30 – 7 pm THURSDAYS
IKE BOX Coffee Shop 299 Cottage Street NE Salem, OR
New groups formed via request and also can be formed online through Skype with Lola.
Sessions led by trained Counselor/Art Therapist, L. Carlile, Ph.D. Email masabitherapist@gmail.com to register – limited scholarships available, as well as sliding scale fees
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Name of Workshop Participant’s Name Address Phone E-Mail
MASABI WORKSHOP REGISTRATION PO. BOX 2663 SALEM OR 97308
In order to secure a seat at the workshop we ask for a $10.00 nonrefundable registration fee made payable to MASABI Check or Major Credit card accepted. Check (registration is complete upon receipt of check) Money Order Major Credit Card VISA MASTERCARD Name on Card Card Number Security Code Expiration Date Thank you for participating in MASABI Workshops! Please plan to attend, relax, learn, and live a richer and more fulfilling life than before. Classes begin on time and will end promptly at the stated time. Individuals wishing additional time may schedule an appointment with the art therapist for a later date. Please state the reasons you chose this workshop and any concerns/questions you might have on the back of this form. Thank you! MASABI WORKSHOP REGISTRATION In order for us to meet your needs as closely as possible, please write your reason(s) or concern(s) which led you to register for this workshop. Are there any extenuating circumstances of which we need to be aware? This information is confidential and will not be shared with anyone else unless you request same. (If more room is needed please feel free to write on the back of this form.)
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A Brief Encounter
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By Ruth Butler
Beneath a sky strewn with twinkling stars And where moonlight guides their way With camping chairs tucked under arm After dinner drinks and treats in hand They come…one by one To join our group of Loners For an evening of fireside fun
She emits a deliriously happy attitude Just being near her lifts my spirits But as her life story unfolds It is evident it has not been easy Stacked with more than her share of sorrow Hard times, loneliness and times of desperation
A small circle forms and then expands Until it is a large circle farther out Forming a ring of friendly faces Hungry flames reach to devour small logs Gathered and laced by an expert fire builder Who tends his fire with a poking stick And grumbles if others dare to poke
Still an exuberant air of happiness abounds A twinkle in her eyes as bright as stars Delightful laughter punctuates her speech Softly someone strums a guitar She joins to sing about lonely cowboys It’s so natural for her to entertain I wonder if she sings professionally
Sparks fly as he adds more logs Then flutter like fire flies overhead A log rolls…he nudges it back A newcomer wanders into our circle Hesitates…looks for a place to set her chair Then sees an empty space by me And marches boldly across the circle
One by one sleepy Loners fold chairs Red embers glow in white ashes Our fire builder leaves taking his poking stick She leaves too…I never thought to ask her name She didn’t come to our pot luck for breakfast And I so wanted to show her an icy blue lake In morning’s sparkling splendor
My, what a big beautiful fire Is it okay if I sit by you Will you hold my drink while I open my chair I hope she isn’t drunk But she is drunk…drunk with joy For she is an unusually jolly person Eager to join in our fireside fun Gifted with an amazing zest for life
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She didn’t show up for lunch Concerned a friend checks her motor home He knocks…then climbs on her roof Through an open skylight he sees her lying there Heaven’s Angels came to take her home And though it was only a brief encounter It is such a pleasure she’s alive in my memory
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"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own" - Robert Heinlein, American Science Fiction Writer. (1907-1988) Today’s Spiritual Woman
Essay on Womanhood by Don (Greywolf) Ford
I’m proud to say I know a lot about womanhood, having had such a hardworking and loving Mom. She was the best of the best and knew how to keep our rocky rolling ship afloat in a sea of man’s poor judgement. You see, we were a family of nine. We were all close and we seldom fought with one another. Instead, we covered for each other. What I like to remember most about my mother was that as a small child growing up in the country, Mom was always home with us. We were all independent, and felt safe running around a small neighborhood of about 200 residents, which included some neighboring squirrels, rabbits, and even a few turtles. Niobe, N.Y. was barely listed on the Chautauqua County map in N.Y. This was where my journey began. I was a country kid at heart and even though I live in larger quarters now, population 30,000, nature has never left my thoughts and writings.
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The day arrived when we found out that we were all moving to the big city. Why? We never were told anything, but we were thrown into a small little apartment, where Dad built two sets of triple bunks for us. Talk about crammed quarters! We were moved from a medium-sized house into a tiny flat above a laundromat in this huge city. This made no sense to us! Mom tried to help keep this place together even though the rent was higher and the rooms were tinier. She got a lousy job panning bread rolls at the same bakery where my dad was a truck driver. It was the mid-sixties and men pretty much ruled the roost. Women took it on the chin most of the time. Try pulling some of the same tricks on women today and you would never get away with it. Thank God! Suddenly my dad was much punchier than before and he would hit us sometimes for little things. Mom and Dad had been married for 19 years. Our country peace of mind became a city of chaos. I guess he had his eyes on the younger women now that mom was all worn out with having us and now with her having to take on a job early in the morning to help make ends meet. So he brought home a new girlfriend to meet Mom. Huge mistake. Mom had a nervous breakdown in the kitchen in front of all of us. I hated my dad for doing this. Mom wasn’t called to be a baker, but a homemaker, like when we lived in the country. Dad wanted to move closer to his job, so he jammed us into this little apartment. That was the reason we moved, along with the fact he wanted to be closer to his girlfriend, who was also married.
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Dads and other guys reading this...your wife or your mom was not put on this Earth to be your slave. If I recall it right, it was to be a “help meet.” Mom more than did her part. My mother died at the early age of fifty with all sorts of medical complications. I told the doctors they were all wrong and explained to them that she died of a broken heart. After sharing a bit of Mom’s life, I think they believed me. Faced the truth with me. This strange new woman forced Mom out of the apartment and Mom at this point had no one to fight for her; she lost her kids and her life began to tumble down hill right away. What happened then is too painful to recall or even to share regarding Mom. I’m thankful that there are laws in place today to keep this situation from ever occurring again in a woman’s life. But women need to be aware of this and to fight for what belongs to them. Mom could have fought, but the system wasn’t working in her favor at the time. Being Native American didn’t help her cause much either; society tended to look down their noses at such people. I want all to know I love the heritage she gave to us. I will proudly tell you I am “Greywolf ”. A final word to my Mom.I know she hears me from up where she is living now. “Mom, I don’t fault you for turning to the bottle after all of this. If it brought you even a bit of comfort in your end of life, that’s your business. The youngest in the family had no clue what you were going through. The two littlest had no idea they had a real mom, after a while. We were all brainwashed into believing you were this monster of a person. Instead, it turns out you were our bright and morning star, after all was said and done.
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No Wonder Our Country is Losing Its Religion By Lola
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When our children are little, we tell them about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. . . so why are we surprised when they stop believing in God, since the other three myths of American childhood are all just that? MYTHS. I was one of those parents intent on giving my children a wonderful childhood replete with myths and lies. At the time I didn’t see them as lies - just as innocuous fun. We laughed when our youngest son created a trap that led from the fireplace to his room. If, indeed, Santa existed, in his four-year old mind, he would trip over the rope and the child’s room would be opened and the resulting noise would arouse my child. Is this why this grown man doesn’t believe in Santa
anymore? With all the gadgets, technology, and instant gratification in our society, is it any wonder that our young people (albeit some older ones as well) are questioning the existence of God? I realize this is not a phenomenon peculiar just to this day and age. Why, in the 60’s when I attended college, posters proclaiming “Is God dead?” abounded on magazine covers and in textbooks. We were urged to question everything. Some of us never stopped. So what do we say to our children when they don’t believe any longer? As one mother shared, her son said, “If I don’t see it, I don’t believe it.” Easy. Have you ever seen my mom? No. She died a long time ago. But that doesn’t mean she never
REM sang a song that contained these lyrics, ““Losing My Religion” Oh life, it’s bigger It’s bigger than you And you are not me The lengths that I will go to The distance in your eyes Oh no, I’ve said too much I set it up That’s me in the corner That’s me in the spotlight Losing my religion Trying to keep a view And I don’t know if I can do it Oh no, I’ve said too much I haven’t said enough MASABI
existed. You must take on faith that she did exist. Same applies to Jesus Christ. Yes, he did exist. Was he God? Some say yes and others say no. But to deny he existed does not make sense.
under the pillow -- hide the eggs, look for them with our baskets -- They know we do it - but we pretend anyway for fun.
Yes, life is so big and so difficult to understand. We are all struggling. Some are struggling to make ends meet and others are worrying about their careers or lack of them. And some of us are struggling to define or understand what lies beyond the grave. And some of us want to believe so badly. . . .
Saint Nicholas, on the other hand, was a REAL person -- just like your Mom was (from your example) and we pretend a little more believably with St. Nick -- but we also read the history book, tell the kids he was the Bishop of Myra -- etc. It’s not surprise when they find out -- but we don’t make it QUITE as obvious as the other two.
So, on to our American myths. What should we do about them or should we even worry? I asked a group of young Catholic women what they thought of this premise and here are some of their replies: Donna Patten Snyder We’ve discussed this before a few times -- Our versions of the American mythologies are mostly to admit exactly what they are, but play the game with the kids anyway. My kids have no illusions about the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny -- but we play the game, take the tooth, put the money
Mainly, I want them to know they can trust us -- and I want them to keep holy our holidays without too much worry about the fluff. BUT I want them to have fun too -- to not feel like they were left out -- this is the compromise. Michelle Conroy Fritz I’m going to have to disagree with your article. I think it’s an unfair assessment of parents, like myself, who participate in these fun cultural add-ons to the holidays and/or everyday life (like the tooth fairy). I have many who believe and many who are past the age of believing in these things but who at one time did. My teens who don’t believe anymore are some of the most devout Catholics you will ever meet… and we did ALL these things (including others you don’t have listed!) I think what it boils down to is not what “extras” you are doing with your kids but the fact that many of the people you are talking about may ONLY do these things instead of truly introducing their children to the real reasons for
Image: http://www.aaronshep.com/books/Baker.html Today’s Spiritual Woman
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the celebrations we have. They are living lives that are cultural Catholics… Catholics in name only. Sure they may go to Mass and even send their kids to Catholic schools but they aren’t sharing the faith with their children past that. I would say THIS is why so many children decide not to believe in God anymore, not because they once believed in Santa. When we have a more faithful population of Catholics I think you can see that no matter if they participate in the culture fun of the holidays like Santa or the Easter Bunny you will see kids who continue to believe in God because they have been exposed to Him and His love all their lives. It is naturally a part of who they are. Sure, they may have doubts at some point, but don’t we all? What matters is if they have that firm foundation in which to return to when they are ready to accept that indeed what they were taught as a child about God and His love is absolutely true… even if Santa is not. Laine Hodges Keller I think ‘religious Christmas’ and ‘cultural Christmas’ can happily co-exist. I was as ardent a Santa believer as they come even into middle school, but just as fervent and excited about my faith, of course including Christ’s birthday. I was actually devastated and
r words are my fo u o od, y “Y our
traumatized when I found out by accident about the Easter Bunny (5th grade), then Santa (6th grade), but it never entered my mind to question the reality of God and had zero impact on my practice of faith. I would call what we now do with our children more of a ‘tolerating Santa’ route, lol, and just play along with however much the kids want to believe. Oh, but we do go visit Santa at Bass Pro Shop. It’s free, we get a free picture, and it’s a whole big thing throughout the store. I think the answer is different for each family. I have close friends who go all out for the Santa experience, and friends who feel any Santa presence in their house is a lie and squelch it asap, all within my network and community of devout, practicing, orthodox Catholic families. Melisa McFie de Lua maybe they lost their convictions first...anyone can have a religion and traditions...if you don’t have convictions then the form of religion means nothing...it becomes just a form. Convictions are things that you will die for.
breat h my
wine . Yo u are - Sarah Bernhardt, French Stage/Film Actress (1844-1923)
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every thing to me.”
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Today’s Spiritual Woman
Brenda Erickson Winter’s Featured Artist
Gaia’s Spirit Mandala
Queen of the Elements
Reiki
http://society6.com/BrendaErickson MASABI
Brenda Erickson lives in New Jersey with her husband,and two wellfed, troublesome felines. She has a garden full of perennials and a heart full of hope. Her art emerges from her dreams and combines geometry, alchemy and traditional symbolism with nature. Her goal is to honor the divine in the universal language of visual art.
Coyote Moon
Moon Glow
Today’s Spiritual Woman
Yona’s Journey along the Trail of Tears by Krysta Williamson
I remember the night before when my father Adahy spoke to my mother Haylei about the recent court decision to overturn President Jackson’s Indian Removal Act and how it would not stop the government from taking the land. I remember hearing the strength of his voice as he told Mother that he would defend us all and protect the land that was ours. After all, the court of law has said that the land is ours. I fell asleep feeling safe, my father after all had always provided for us. I woke the next day to hear angry voices below my bed in the loft of the cabin “You are ordered to leave these lands; they belong to us now,” a man’s angry voice called. “No, they don’t.” came a response. “The supreme court of your law and George Marshal rules that you can not take us from our lands!” Then the world around me erupted as fire blossomed from the roof above me. My older brother grabbed me by my night shirt and pulled me from the loft and was grabbed by men in Georgia Militia clothing holding a long rifle equipped with a blade on the end. He shoved us forward and out the door. Outside I could see Father struggling with the men and one of them hit him with the gun as another shot my mother’s cow and calf. Another holding a light stick threw it in the hay in the barn and turned out all the animals. Sikwai jumped forward and knocked the man who hit Father down on the ground and took out his knife. The crack of thunder from the rifle scared me so badly I began crying as loudly as the baby was. A man shot my brother and he stopped moving and breathing. I saw my father go limp, all the fight out of him; Mother was cowering on the ground in front of one of them men as he was kicking and shoving her toward the wagon that awaited with others from our Settlement. November 3, 1838 It had been early Fall when we were taken from our home and crowded in camps with more people then I could count. I have made friends with Rebecca, a young girl whose mother has red hair and speaks in a funny way. Her mother is nice, though, and is always feeding us when she can. Food is beginning to become nothing more than onions and cabbage. The food stores they said would be MASABI
for the trip to our new home were all eaten while we waited to leave this place. Women and men around me seem to be losing their hope, and sadness has settled around us. Rebecca and I play quietly near our mothers and try to stay away from the white men who take any chance to abuse one of us if we are caught alone. They said this is a place called Tennessee and that there are 15,000 of us here packed together in a small area awaiting to leave for new lands West of the great river called the Mississippi. I ran to my mother and asked her for something to eat; there was pain in her eyes as she told me she was sorry but there was no food till dinner. But we had only arisen and no breakfast and no noon meal. This day seemed to crawl and by dinner the small bowl of porridge seemed to do little for the pain in my tummy. Little did I know that hunger would be the least of my pain in the months to come. December 12,1938 I’m cold, hungry, and sad. I really am not sure that any of us will make it. The snow and ice seems to live in every part of me. Mother is sick. The baby is near dead this morning and Mother says she will die before the sun reaches the sky. Her little lips are blue like the ice on the bank of the small pond we camped by last night. The white men who say they are guarding us act more like jailors. Only last night I saw what remained of one of the men they “persuaded” to get back to camp. He died from the knife wound in the night and the lamenting of the women could be heard throughout the camp, their voices carried by the bitter cold wind. We are stuck here on the east side of the Mississippi in a winter storm that is worse then any I remember before or after this. With one squealing wail, little Awinita was silent and breathed no more. Mother began wailing and Father walked away to the edge of the pond. He was trying not to hear the coughing and sobbing of Mother. We carefully wrapped little fawn in her blanket and buried her under the icy ground and then left her behind. Father walked most the day while Mother rode on a broken horse that he bought back in Tennessee. December 25, 1838 They call this day Christmas, the day of the birth of Jesus, but for me it is a day of sadness. Only Father and I are left of our little family. The horse became dinner two nights ago. We have shared the meat with all those close and only two campfires exist where women can cook for the people close to me. Three thousand of us have died on this trip according to the Elders and I fear more will die before we reach this new place they are forcing us to walk to. Our Chief is holding strong to keep the Nation moving, but the death of his family weighs heavy on his heart. My father wraps mother in her blanket and with help of others bury her there on a day the white mans claims a day of hope and joy. I only see sadness and no hope for the future of the people. We huddle close Today’s Spiritual Woman
with no fire, no food in the bitter night’s wind and I pray that we will both be here in the morning. A young man named Little Frog approaches us and gives us one of his blankets left from his family. He also offers us part of a winter rabbit he caught that morning. His smile shows me he is sad but makes me feel a bit better. Not long from now we will be in our new lands and the newfound Cherokee government will help us rebuild our Nation. March 6, 1939 We have arrived at the place called Fort Gibson. Many of us are sick or injured without the supplies we were promised. The land looks harsh and I can only hope there is a future for us. We eat the first warm meal in weeks and I drink some hot milk provided by one of the women of the Fort. Tonight I will sleep in a lodge and be warm. April 13 1939 I have learned that the Cherokee people were not the only tribes to be ordered here. The Choctaw, Chickasaw, Creek, and Seminole as well as many other tribes North were forced to move West along the trails. Many died and more would die before we again establish our homes and way of life. My new husband Little Frog says he will hunt for us and though he has asked my father if he can take me as his wife, I find little happiness because I know we will have to work hard, much harder than any of the people that came before. But my father and men like him will help us to survive. As I take Little Frog’s hand I know he has suffered a loss as great as mine, but he and I will rebuild our nation. Today I moved rocks to clear way for our new home. I will never forget Nunna-da-ul-tsun-yi, meaning “The Place Where They Cried.” but I will keep moving because to stop means to die. One–hundred Thousand Native Americans were forced to leave behind their lives and lands of their ancestors. An estimated 8000 Native American died on the Trail of Tears. The numbers you see here are the total of all tribes East of the Mississippi that were forced to move based on President Jacksons “Indian Removal Act of 1830.” The numbers above are the most remembered tribes that were forced to travel.
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A New Beginning Joyce Roberts Lott
Italian Sonnet of Abbaabba and Cdecde First place in Michelin contest 2006
The soft winter snow is sprinkled all around. Spruce trees wear wraps of fluffy dotted white. Streets have freshly driven tracks that are bright. There is music in the air and bells that sound. In the white landscaped yards the children are found. Rolling up snowmen or pitching a snowball fight. They exert their energy until the air indicates night. They bid good-byes as they hurry homeward bound. Freshly fallen snow can signify a new beginning By covering everything with a coating so fresh, Allowing us to form the first new footprints in it. Just as the feeling of a new day with the sun’s dawning Captures and puts away all, which is past, into a mesh And prepares us for the future, making us more fit. 33
Today’s Spiritual Woman
Catherine of Aragon - 1535 Love Letter Famous Love Letters About Catherine of Aragon (1485 1536): Catherine of Aragon best known as The Queen of England and mother to Queen Mary, she was the first wife of Henry VIII. He and Catherine divorced in 1533, Catherine remained devoted to Henry until her death in 1536. My Lord and Dear Husband, I commend me unto you. The hour of my death draweth fast on, and my case being such, the tender love I owe you forceth me, with a few words, to put you in remembrance of the health and safeguard of your
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soul, which you ought to prefer before all worldly matters, and before the care and tendering of your own body, for the which you have cast me into many miseries and yourself into many cares. For my part I do pardon you all, yea, I do wish and devoutly pray God that He will also pardon you. For the rest I commend unto you Mary, our daughter, beseeching you to be a good father unto her, as I heretofore desired. I entreat you also, on behalf of my maids, to give them marriage-portions, which is not much, they being but three. For all my other servants, I solicit a year’s pay more than their due, lest they should be unprovided for. Lastly, do I vow, that mine eyes desire you above all things.
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Penchant for the Pen Acts As My Personal Catharsis By Barry-Lee Coyne
Why write at all? What motivates me to explore the inner recesses of a semi-fertile mind and share my thoughts and feelings with the world out there? That’s a perfectly valid question, readers. It all began in the 3rd grade when a freckle-faced classmate named Herby was in his “puppy love” stage of growing up. He was out to woo Natalie with whom he shared an accordion class. His goal was to try to squeeze her into his buddying social life. The main barrier: Herby was basically shy in talking. One day the teacher read aloud one of my early compositions. She had some nice words and Herby’s ears quickly perked up. During recess, he collared me and made his pitch. “Barry-Lee, you seem to be a pretty good writer. I need for you to do me a favor. Can you write out some love poems for me to give to Natalie? I’ll sign my name on the bottom. Tell you what: I’ll be willing to offer you a penny each!” It was a kiddy offer I simply couldn’t refuse. That what my first venture as a Classroom Capitalist. While the love notes didn’t win the heart of Natalie, it supplied good practice for Herby to successfully lure sweet Cynthia, his back-up prospect. And it launched me on a future writing career. Adding to that was my Dad’s belief that “kids should be seen and not heard” which made me feel somewhat imprisoned. In finding my love for writing, I overcome that bothersome obstacle. As the years went on, I developed a love affair with reading newspapers. Current events stirred in my mind as an escape from street life in Brooklyn. I’d read articles to learn how to phrase things better. I’d study the headlines to find short-cuts in expressing myself. Later on I joined my high school yearbook and then my college newspaper staff. I loved doing term papers and would sometimes help fellow students do theirs. My college mentor, Dr. Nasrollah Fatemi, had once been the Iranian ambassador to the UN. When he announced in class that the UN was seeking summer interns from around the world, I jumped at that chance. The result: serving as a press officer intern at the Secretariat and doing press releases on fisheries in Africa and the new era of weather satellites. I feel great gratitude for my fate. Some 50 years later I’ve combined careers as a feature writer and a mental health counselor, each an important part of effective communications. That has been my lifelong catharsis to reach out to others. Just to think that a 3rd grader taught me to put my writing first!
Today’s Spiritual Woman
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Health Benefits of Aloe Vera by Mike Adams, NaturalNews.com When I say aloe vera is the most impressive medicinal herb invented by nature, I don't make that statement lightly. Of all the herbs I've ever studied -- and I've written thousands of articles on nutrition and disease prevention -- aloe vera is the most impressive herb of them all. (Garlic would be a close second.) There is nothing on this planet that offers the amazing variety of healing benefits granted by aloe vera. In a single plant, aloe vera offers potent, natural medicine that: • Halts the growth of cancer tumors. • Lowers high cholesterol. • Repairs "sludge blood" and reverses "sticky blood". • Boosts the oxygenation of your blood. • Eases inflammation and soothes arthritis pain. • Protects the body from oxidative stress. • Prevents kidney stones and protects the body from oxalates in coffee and tea. • Alkalizes the body, helping to balance overly
acidic dietary habits. • Cures ulcers, IBS, Crohn's disease and other digestive disorders. • Reduces high blood pressure natural, by treating the cause, not just the symptoms. • Nourishes the body with minerals, vitamins, enzymes and glyconutrients. • Accelerates healing from physical burns and radiation burns. • Replaces dozens of first aid products, makes bandages and antibacterial sprays obsolete. • Halts colon cancer, heals the intestines and lubricates the digestive tract. • Ends constipation. • Stabilizes blood sugar and reduces triglycerides in diabetics. • Prevents and treats candida infections. • Protects the kidneys from disease. • Functions as nature's own "sports drink" for electrolyte balance, making common sports drinks obsolete. • Boosts cardiovascular performance and physical endurance. • Speeds recovery from injury or physical exertion. • Hydrates the skin, accelerates skin repair. Truly, there is nothing else that compares to the medicinal potential of aloe vera. And yet most people only know about the topical applications of aloe vera gel. They think it's only good for sunburns. In reality, aloe vera is useful for both external and internal use. Full article: http://www.naturalnews.com/021858_aloe_vera_gel.html
Today’s Spiritual Woman
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My First Love Died Last Night A short story by Sandy McDow
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“My first love died last night.” “Grandma, did you say something?” “I said . . . my first love died last night.” There were ads on Jeopardy, and Gram had muted the sound. I think she decided it was too quiet, maybe a little boring, so she came out with that. “Mom, don’t be ridiculous. How would you know something like that? Besides, did you ever have another boyfriend? I thought Dad was your first, one and only.” “Phaa. What do you know?” Well, what I know is that Mom doesn’t get Grandma at all. She thinks Grandma is getting a little, you know, like looney? Loosely wound? Something like that. So sometimes she gets really ornery with Gram. I, on the other hand, like listening to her. If you pay attention, you can learn a lot. Recently, on Facebook, someone started “You know you live in Salem if you remember _____,” where you fill in the blank and post it—everyone trying for the oldest and best memories. Well, while my mom put in Rainmakers Day, Grandma finished the statement with the JB Drive-In, and Popcorn Hill. What in the world are those places? Someday, I’m going to find out. Grandma has her memories, all right. And she’s not so loony, either. MASABI
http://monaki.deviantart.co
om/art/Love-Silhouette-119287920
Tuesday, the night before Gram’s big pronouncement, while Mom was out with the other cougars, trying to score, Grandma was surfing the net. That’s how she learned this guy had died. I was across the room, trying to complete two pages of trig when I heard her give a little yelp. She had seen his death notice posted in the Marion County Public Records. “What?” I asked. She turned away from the monitor and looked at me. “Gem, I hope you never have to see your fantasies die before your eyes.” She turned back to the computer and resumed her surf. Gram was always tossing out pithy little bits for me to chew on—it wasn’t ‘till after her comment about her first love, that I understood what that Tuesday night stuff was all about. She never explained a lot. She just tossed the tidbits out and left me to reason and think, and try to understand what she was talking about. The thing is, my Mom and I live with Grandma—it’s not the other way around like you always hear about. And Mom is so busy dissing Gram that she doesn’t even really know her. What she doesn’t know is that Grandma is online every day, has a Facebook page with a phony picture of course, and gets hits from all kinds of guys wanting to meet her, stays abreast of the news, writes letters to the editor that get printed in the paper, and generally causes whatever mischief she can think up. Grandma may be old, but she’s definitely not dead. As for me, I do get Grandma—I’m the one who helped her set up her Facebook account, and learn to surf the net. And, Gram really knows Mom, who would faint dead away if she had a clue that Gram knew how to use a computer and keeps track of her on her social pages. I like to watch Gram read my mom’s posts. Sometimes she shakes her head like she can’t believe what she’s reading; other times, she just laughs. Mom would die if she knew. So, you get the picture, right? As for me, I’m caught in the middle. Mom wants me to side Today’s Spiritual Woman
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with her when she is antagonizing Grandma—Grandma wants me to be quiet and stay out of the way—she knows she can hold her own. I think Mom is secretly embarrassed because we depend on Gram for a house and food, and she even has to borrow money from Gram to pay her bills. I think Mom would like Gram to be old and senile so she could put her away and take charge of her finances. And, I think Gram knows that is exactly what Mom has in mind. She probably shouldn’t have tossed out that tidbit about her first love—senile people live in the past, right. I think she just set herself up. “So, who is the man who died? You’ve never mentioned him before.” Mom used her sweet, I’m-so-interested-in-what-you-have-tosay voice. Just then Gram farted—not some dainty lady-like fart, either. It was long and loud and smelled up the whole room. “Ooops. Sorry, ladies. Too much cabbage for dinner I guess.” Gram was not really laughing, but she had a twinkle in her eye when she looked at me. “Mother. Really. That was so gross.” My Mom ran to the kitchen and rummaged around under the sink for the air freshener. “If you know something gives you gas, would you puleeze just not eat it?” She was back, waving the aerosol can around, flooding the room with a psuedo-vanilla scent, and muttering vile things about senile old women. The whole thing made me want to toss. “Gram, did someone die who you knew before you married Gramps? How come you call him your first love?” I decided to ignore Mom’s tantrum—besides, I really did want to know. If this guy was her fantasy, he must have been special. I looked in the newspaper for the next few days, trying to see if I could spot an obituary that might be for Mr. Fantasy. I thought that if it had been listed in the public records, there would probably be an obit to follow. I spotted one that looked like a possibility, but Gads, the guy was a wizened-up old-goat-looking man. I just couldn’t quite buy that he was Grandma’s fantasy—her first love, as it were. Gram didn’t answer me just then. She and Mom were glaring at one another in a who-will-blink-first contest. As you might expect, Mom lost. She grabbed her coat and headed out the door just as Wheel came on. “I may be back. Or not.” She screamed as she closed the door hard behind her. I guess if you blink first, it gives you license to slam doors in Mom’s book. When I looked over at Gram, she was trying not to grin. I think I have the only grandmother who grins—others have these old-lady smiles, where they try to hide their yellow teeth behind demure lips—Gram, she grins, or laughs her big belly laugh when she thinks something is really funny. Sometimes I wonder if I should be MASABI
embarrassed by her like Mom is. Then I think, probably not. “Okay, Gem. Let’s watch the rest of Wheel. Vanna sure has a hot-looking dress tonight.” Gram was dismissing the scene as if it hadn’t happened and going on with her evening. Gram solved the puzzles ahead of the buzzer and most of the contestants, and cheered for her favorite. Watching her watch the game shows was a show in itself. She got me interested in game shows too, but I would never admit it to Mom or any of my friends—they’d think I was some kind of dweeb. While we waited for the final segment, where the contestant spins for some big prize, Gram told me about him— just a little—just enough to pique my interest. “I met my first love the summer of my senior year in high school,” she said. “He was older, just back from Korea where he’d been for two years. We were both working at the cannery in West Salem—it was called Blue Lake Cannery—hired a lot of high-school and college kids in the summer. We both worked the night shift …” “Well, was his picture in the paper?” I interrupted her. “I saw a picture in the obits that looked like about the right age for you . . . no offense, Gram . . . , but he looke pretty, you know, really old.” I hadn’t seen any redeeming qualities in that obituary photo. I guess I more wanted to know if that was him than to know about the romance, at that point. Gram gave me a veiled glance—I couldn’t read her eyes or her expression—it kind of scared me. “Some things aren’t meant to be,” she went on as if I hadn’t interrupted her musings, “we had passion but no communication.” Then she looked as if she’d had an epiphany. “Kind of like your mother and me.” “I don’t get it, Gram. What are you talking about?” “At first, there was love, respect, wanting to please one another. Then came a time when we realized that while we loved one another, we shared nothing else—our hopes and dreams were completely different. With your mom and me, that happened when she hit her teens—with Robert and me, his name was Robert, it happened when he wanted to get married. I try to talk to your mom, to share my hopes and dreams for her, but she will never listen or try to understand. I know that now. As for Robert, well, the idea of marriage scared me to death . . . I tried to tell him and make him understand, but he never did.” Gram sighed. “For both of them, I’ve always imagined what if . . .” She paused . . . I guess she forgot what she’d said to me before, because, like some old senile woman, she repeated herself, “Gem, I hope you never have to see your fantasies die before your eyes.”
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Christmas With Jesus This Year Written by Cameo Smith, Mt. Wolf, PA Monday, December 17, 2012
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Twas’ 11 days before Christmas, around 9:38 When 20 beautiful children stormed through heaven’s gate. Their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air. They could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there. They were filled with such joy, they didn’t know what to say. They remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day. “Where are we?” asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse. “This is heaven.” declared a small boy. “We’re spending Christmas at God’s house.” When what to their wondering eyes did appear, But Jesus, their savior, the children gathered near. He looked at them and smiled, and they smiled just the same. Then He opened His arms and He called them by name. And in that moment was joy, that only heaven can bring Those children all flew into the arms of their King And as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace, One small girl turned and looked at Jesus’ face. And as if He could read all the questions she had He gently whispered to her, “I’ll take care of mom and dad.” Then He looked down on earth, the world far below He saw all of the hurt, the sorrow, and woe Then He closed His eyes and He outstretched His hand, “Let My power and presence re-enter this land!” “May this country be delivered from the hands of fools” “I’m taking back my nation. I’m taking back my schools Then He and the children stood up without a sound. “Come now my children, let me show you around.” Excitement filled the space, some skipped and some ran. All displaying enthusiasm that only a small child can. And i heard Him proclaim as He walked out of sight, “In the midst of this darkness, I AM STILL THE LIGHT.” MASABI
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Pray for the families of Connecticut and our nation and our own communities as we grieve the loss of children and guardians, pray for light in their darkness, healing in their hearts and to find Joy in jesus after or through the mourning. Image from http://talesfromamother.blogspot.com/2012/12/god-bless-little-children.html Today’s Spiritual Woman
REMINDER Joyce Roberts Lott © 2000 The stooped lady walked by in the foot of snow. She looked so forlorn with no place to go. It was Christmas Eve; I was on my way out. She trudged ever so slowly, never looking about. With so much to do, I proceeded ahead Towards the church where I’d be “fed.” The steeple was in sight; I quickened my pace, But I could not forget the look on her face. The program began begging for my attention, But I had her image gripping me with tension. I bounded from there at the final note, Racing to the scene, choking at my throat, For there she lay with others around. She died alone and then was found. Her image is etched deep within my mind. Even deeper it reached into my heart to bind. I go to that street every Christmas Eve And pause there wondering, “Did she believe?” I could have stopped that night in the snow, Offered her some food and Christ to know.
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MASABI
Friends on Facebook
By Vye Sieren
Okay, I must admit it, I bragged about stalking my sons and they took it to heart! Now I am friendless, albeit not sonless. But having one son unfriend me feels as if he is unsonning me. And I was stupid, I admit it. I got mad ‘cause of a rumor and unfriended the other son and immediately felt remorse. It didn’t work – he won’t friend me back. So now I am sonless with two. The third son is pretty good about not taking out his wrath on me via Facebook, but I nowtread lightly…. These are the woes that my generation – the hippie dippy 60’s love all and peace to you generation – has to worry about nowadays. It used to be so simple. If you were home and heard the phone, you connected. You did not know who felt sad at the moment or who was worried about a date, or even who was debating about what to eat for lunch….TMI as the kids say, but it’s become part of our pastime to worry about trivial nuances and when they disappear, wonder why. And you certainly didn’t know how many friends and acquaintances each child had and now their spouses, who are your new children. Argh, it’s too much for my fragile brain. So how am I coping with this new stressor? I am friending everyone I know and then some. FB found out and banned me from making friends twice now. They say I am asking people who don’t know me. Could it be that I have a new name? Could it be that they don’t realize we are family since I am now married? Who could have complained? How would they (FB) have even known if someone hadn’t complained? Maybe it’s the folks I hired and fired at the Kroc. Sheesh! Give it up! Who are you? And yesterday I noticed I am down one friend – who in the heck is it? Impossible to find out unless I really want to – then it’s too time-consuming. Too much ado about nothing. Seriously, folks! We need help! It used to be that I saw on FB someone having a party and talking about it and I wondered why I was not invited. Now, to be honest, I don’t care. It’s better that I don’t care. I make my life. I create my happiness. It doesn’t have to be with my kids 24/7 like it used to be. They are big boys now. They have families. I am grateful if I get to see them occasionally and by that I mean every few weeks or so…. I’m calming down. I am finding new interests. I like the computer, so Pinterest has beckoned me and there are no hurt feelings on Pinterest. You just collect a bunch of stuff and hoard it online. Well, it’s better than crying about hurt feelings! LinkedIn is the big girls’ FB where everyone doesn’t write about trivial things – Instagram works for sharing photos, except it’s not on the big computer where I love to reside. But, let me tell you, I’m determined to have over 500 friends on FB – almost there - @ 329 now. So, won’t you be my friend? I promise not to stalk you, nor to write trivial stuff anymore and I won’t be jealous if you give a party and I’m not invited. Honest. I tell the kids I now use FB for networking. Honest.
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“She walks in Beauty, like the night Of cloudness climes and starry skies, And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes...” ~Lord Byron, a.k.a George Gordon Bryon 6th. British poet (1788-1824)~
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Body
Today’s Spiritual Woman
What would you do if your twelve–year old son began his period? That is the question one California family had to ponder in 1960, an era when rock and roll shattered the innocence of the 50’s. With impending doom from nations near out shores, the world was not ready to accept, discuss, nor tolerate a boy having a girl’s period. This American family was soon to be drawn into a world they never dreamed of, much less were prepared to cope with.
Lola Carlile is a writer, muse, traveler, and, most of all, an educator interested in the psyche of people. She lives on the West Coast with her husband and enjoys writing as a form of meditation. Stephanie Anne Stockton is a gardener, seeker of truth, and a woman in search of happiness from within. She also lives on the West Coast.
48 On Sale now through Author House Publishing online
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Do all you can with what you have in the time you have in the place you are….Submitted by Lorrie Potts I was just about to complete my college degree. The last class I had to take was sociology. The teacher was absolutely inspiring. She had the qualities I wish every human being had been graced with. Her last project of the term was called SMILE. The class was asked to go out and smile at three people and document
their reactions. Being a friend friendly person, I usually smile and say hello to most folks. So I thought this assignment would be a piece of cake. Soon after we were given this assignment, my husband and I took our son out to breakfast at McDonald’s. It was just our way of sharing some special time with him. We were standing in line waiting to be served, when all of a sudden, everyone around us began to back away, even my husband and my son. As I turned to see why they had moved, I smelled a horrible, dirty body smell and noticed two obviously homeless men. As I looked down at the little man closest to me, I noticed his sky blue eyes were full of light. He SMILED and said, “Goo day.” As he counted the few coins in his hand, I discerned the second man was mentally
challenged and the blue-eyed man was probably his salvation. The young girl at the counter asked the man what he wanted. “Just coffee, Miss.” I knew they had to buy something if they were allowed to remain inside where it was warm. Then I really felt it. The compulsion was so great I almost reached out and embraced the little man with the blue eyes. Then I noticed all the other eyes in the restaurant set on me, judging my every action. I turned and asked the young lady behind the counter to give me two more breakfast meals on a separate tray. Then I walked around the corner to the table the men had chosen as a resting spot. I put the tray on the table and laid my hand on the blue-eyed man’s cold fingers. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “Thank you.” With my hand still on his, I said, “I did not do this for you. God is here, working through me to give you hope.” I started to cry so I walked way to join my husband and son. We are not church goers, but we are believers. That experience taught me it is better to love people and use things than to love things and use people.
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Heal Thyself With Tapping By Lola Carlile and New Age Guinea Pig.com This is definitely a first for me – to hear about tapping and to actually try it myself. What is tapping? It is a psychological acupressure technique designed to optimize one’s mental health. EFT practitioners claim that the practice will help clients eliminate pain, gain positive mental outlook, reduce food cravings, and stave off negative emotions. Well, howdy, ya’ll, sign me up! According to the blog, newageguineapig.com, this is kind of how an actual session went for her, someone who is obviously doubtful about the outcome of tapping: During the opening spiel we are told about men and women across the States who have leapt out of wheelchairs and had pernicious diseases cured by EFT, I hear the word “tapping” and shrivel up inside. Doesn’t this involve touching people? I really should have looked into this before coming along. Happily, tonight we’ll only be touching ourselves. We use our fingers to tap ourselves on meridian points on the hands, face and body while repeating a mantra. David gives us all a chocolate as an experiment. Most of us, upon holding it, start getting strong urges to eat it. First we do three rounds of tapping, the basic mantra of which is: “Even though I want to eat this chocolate, I deeply and completely accept myself.” We’re told to take a bite of the chocolate. My brain usually lights up like a Christmas tree at this point, but I find the thing tastes flat and dull. Everyone else reports something similar; one bloke complains his tastes of cow. By golly, if we’ve been brainwashed, I hope we’ve done it ourselves. Now we’re going to move to an emotional problem. We’re asked to think back to something that traumatized us, at least three years ago, and isolate what emotion it made us feel. We rate how bad MASABI
it’s making us feel right now with a mark out of 10. Then we drop the name of that emotion into the mantra: “Even though I feel xxx…” and tap through it while replaying the scene in our minds. This time, though, we imagine we’re tapping our younger selves. Afterwards we see if the mark out of 10 has gone down. And repeat. David invites two people to the front to reveal what their trauma was and then be tapped through it. The first guy recounts a childhood humiliation, and reports his anxiety levels go down as he repeats the process. The girl refuses to talk about what happened to her and is close to tears. David asks if he can perform the tapping on her himself, an uncomfortable moment, especially given her body language. He goes through three or four rounds, dropping in phrases like “I don’t feel I can trust people” and “I know I am safe here”, which seems manipulative. Meanwhile, we’re all slapping away at ourselves in front of her. It sounds like a porn film in here. A few times, David loses my willingness. He insists that every experience we’ve had is imprinted inside us and could potentially be replayed like a movie. He talks of the time he worked at Amway. He references The Secret. Rationalizing things like EFT, he chuckles, involves “rational lies”. And then there’s his account of being regressed to the womb. Lastly, I’m always suspicious of people who smile “Isn’t that interesting” when “um” would do just as well. Keeper? I’m not sure yet if I feel beatific because I’ve spent gentle, quality time with myself or because there’s something in this tapping lark. Hey – that chocolate thing was weird though. POSTSCRIPT: Seven days later, I’ve had no desire to smoke. Isn’t that interesting? http://newageguineapig.com/2011/10/27/tapping-myself-to-emotional-freedom/
Today’s Spiritual Woman
Kicking the new year off right By Laura Williams
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Goal setting is a means for pursuing and achieving specific, measurable objectives to further personal development in all areas of life. Failing to set goals and objectives doesn’t mean that you can’t achieve a measure of success in life, but it can slow the process and lead to a sense of flailing about without purpose. Each area of life in which you set goals is going to have a slightly different goal setting definition, but the essential components of all effective goals are wrapped up in the “SMART-I” method: Goals must be Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant and Time-Bound. The “I” at the end is something added “Incentivized.” You’re more likely to strive for and achieve your goals when there are incentives and rewards along the way. MASABI
Specific: You can’t get to where you’re going if you don’t have a specific destination in mind. Saying something general, like “I want to travel to Texas” isn’t an effective goal. That leaves a lot of miles for you to cover! You need to be more specific. Say, for instance, “I want to travel to Austin to tour the capital.” You know exactly what you’re hoping to achieve when your destination is clear. Measurable: Saying “I want to lose weight” isn’t a measurable goal. You could lose one pound or 50 pounds, and you would have achieved it. To be effective, you need to set goals in increments of time, weight, days, money, etc. For instance, “I want to make $500 from my home business each month”
is a clearly measurable goal. You either achieve it, or you don’t. Likewise, saying “I want to lose 25 pounds” is both specific and measurable. Attainable: Some goals aren’t realistic or attainable. If you’ve never run a mile in your life and you set the goal to run a marathon in two weeks time, it’s highly unlikely that you’ll be able to achieve the goal. In order to remain motivated and excited about your goal, you need to know that it’s something you can realistically achieve. If you’ve never run before and you want to run a marathon, give yourself six months to a year to achieve that goal. Relevant: The goals you set need to be goals that legitimately matter to you. This is an area that a lot of people struggle with. They see other peoples’ goals and get caught up in trying to achieve things that other people find important, rather than deciding what’s most important to them. So, before you set major goals in your life, like climbing Mount Everest or riding a century bike ride, ask yourself if it’s something you really care about and whether it’s something that fits with your desired lifestyle. If not, think a little more before setting the goal. Time-bound: If you set the goal to “Learn how to snowboard on the intermediate slopes without crashing,” but you don’t set a timeframe for when you want to achieve the goal, you could be “pursuing” the goal for years without
achieving it. You need to put time limits on the goals you set in order to see whether you’re actually on track. A more effective goal would be, “Learn how to snowboard on the intermediate slopes without crashing before the lifts close for the 2012-2013 season.” Incentivized: There’s nothing like a reward system to keep you on track for your goals! Setting up periodic incentives for achieving objectives will make you more likely to stick with things, especially if your long-term goals will take substantial effort to achieve. For instance, if you’re setting fitness goals, treat yourself to a new workout outfit for every month you stay on track, or splurge on a new summer wardrobe after three months of consistent exercise. The trick with these incentives is to only reward yourself if you’re actually working on your goals consistently. This way the reward feels relevant to your efforts. More goal-setting tips:
Be realistic about your life and the barriers you’ll face. It’s all well-andgood to say “I want to run four miles a day, five times a week,” but if you hate running and you know your work and home schedules are unpredictable, that might not be a goal that you can stick with. Before determining your goals, take a good look at the things that might get in your way and choose relevant goals that will fit with your life. Today’s Spiritual Woman
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Prepare for the barriers. The only barrier you can’t overcome is the one you didn’t prepare for. Everyone faces the occasional barrier to their goals, whether it’s illness, last-minute work meetings, family emergencies or anything else, you can almost always anticipate the types of barriers you could face and plan for them. So you’re sick? It happens. Give yourself the necessary time to recover, then make a plan for easing yourself back into your workouts. Your work schedule is unpredictable? Pack an extra gym bag with a change of clothes and shoes and keep it in your car so you can get in a walk during lunch or head to the gym when a meeting gets out early.
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Prepare for the nay-sayers. There will be people who will stand in the way of your goals. You need to decide up front how much you want your goals and how you’re going to respond to those who imply you can’t do achieve them or try to steer you off track. This doesn’t mean you need to cut people out of your life, it just means you need to be prepared for negative reactions and responses from those around you. Get excited! The pursuit and achievement of goals is exciting! It can seem like a lot, especially when you’re getting started, but don’t allow yourself to feel overwhelmed. Get pumped and find some other people who are pursuing similar goals so you can root each other on. MASABI
Use this goal-setting worksheet to get a start on your fitness goal setting this year.
Today’s Spiritual Woman
Fitness goal-setting worksheet http://www.girlsgonesporty.com/sites/default/files/in-article-images/worksheet-1.pdf
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My Inheritance My mother loved the quiet things The sweetness that a whisper brings The twinkling stars up in the sky And snow that softly falls near by She also loved all beautiful things The colorful art on butterfly wings God-given rainbows, flowers and trees And grass that gently sways in the breeze She fostered my love of musical things A gentle hand on violin strings The trills of birds at the break of dawn And win that sighs like a peaceful song My mother taught me all these things The joy a newborn baby brings A friendly knock upon the door Her love of life…and so much more LaVerne Winegardner
Image by Mark Robinson http://www.flickr.com/photos/66176388@N00/2912396562/lightbox/ MASABI
We all live and we die. In between we retire. Yet Austrian born and Texas bred Lola Carlile gave little, if any, thought to retirement. When the big R entered her life, she was taken aback and began amassing amazing experiences one after another; however, some were not that amazing and some downright unpleasant. Using her God-given talent, she began to record the ups and downs of retirement and it is her sincerest hope and prayer that others might benefit from her experiences. Dr. Carlile enjoyed a wonderful career in education and upon her first retirement returned to graduate school to become an art therapist...
https://www.createspace.com/4098892 Order your copy today for only $19.99 on Amazon books. http://www.amazon.com/Therapy-Retirees-Lola-Carlile-Ph-D/dp/1481265377 Today’s Spiritual Woman
When it’s cold, eat some quick potato pierogi http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2007/07/from-insert-your-origin-here-with-love/
Alright, although I don’t know who, someone has been holding out on me because potato pierogi are so easy to make, I feel that I should have been privy to this information earlier than Friday night. Perhaps I should backtrack and give you some good explanation for eating Eastern European keep-you-paddedover-the-long-winter-months fare in the stickiest (or so I hope) part of the summer, but I don’t really have one–they just called to me. Plus, a recipe that ran in the San Francisco Chronicle last month suggested that the home cook use wonton wrappers instead of making dough. I had initially poo-pooed this idea–how inauthentic! This will not do!–until my trusted Russian friend, Olga informed me that at home her family made dumplings with wonton wrappers all the time. And I realized that using such a thin, light casing might make the difference between potato pierogis seemed to me the quintessential biting-cold winter dish and something you might eat with a light, crunchy slaw for a summer dinner.
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Even better, one you can make and eat in the same evening. What a concept! I mean, it’s all frightfully simple; peel potatoes, boil them for twenty minutes, chop onions and fry them thoroughly in butter (amen), mix, season and get stuffing! You’ll have way more than you need, so go ahead and line them, not touching, on a parchment-lined tray and freeze them until firm, then gather them in a freezer bag until you’re ready to eat the rest. But be sure to set some aside for immediate gratification, either topped with simple minced greens or green onions, more onions browned in butter, just butter, sour cream or vinegar. Now, you’re not supposed to use the last two together, but I cannot resist their sacrilegious pairing. Promise you won’t knock it until you try it, okay? A bit of background: Pierogi are one of those foods so immersed in diasporal history, I love reading and then blabbing about it. That said, I am also kind of a nerdlet, so you are welcome to skip this part. It would be naive to think that pierogi are not distant (or not-so-distant) cousins of the world’s other dumpling varieties, from Italian angnolotti and ravioli or Chinese dumplings. In fact, some say that pierogi were introduced to Polish cuisine about 500 years ago by Queen Bonna who was Italian. Marco Polo is said to have brought noodles to Italy after eating them in his 13th Century China travels, though many (mostly Italians, I might add) say this isn’t the case. Thusly, if you are a peacemaker, as I sometimes try to be, no matter who you are talking to, they’re probably a little bit right, even more so if they’re buying the drinks. Na zdarovye! MASABI
Quick Potato Pierogi
Adapted loosely from the San Francisco Chronicle, Serves 4 to 6 1 1/2 pounds baking potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks 4 to 5 tablespoons unsalted butter 3 onions, finely chopped Salt and black pepper to taste 1 to 2 packages of gyoza (pot sticker) wrappers 3 to 5 green onions, thinly sliced or 1/4 cup chopped chives or 2 tablespoons chopped parsley or additional fried onions to serve Sour cream, melted butter or vinegar to serve
Cook the potatoes in a large pot of salted boiling water until just tender. Drain and set aside. Melt the butter in a large heavy frying pan and cook the onions until they soften then lightly brown, darkly browned in spots. Mash the potatoes in a bowl then mix in the onions and their cooking butter. Season generously with salt and pepper. Using a round cookie or biscuit cutter the width of the smaller side of the dumpling wrapper, cut 10 to 12 wrappers at a time into circles, discarding the extra. Working one at a time, brush the edge of the round wrapper with water and place a spoonful of filling in the center. Fold dumpling in half, pressing the edges together to thoroughly seal. Place each dumpling on a parchment or waxed paper
lined baking sheet and repeat until all filling has been used. Chill in the refrigerator if you are making them ahead of time. If you wish to freeze the dumplings for later use, make sure they are not touching, then freeze them until solid and later gather them into a freezer bag. This ensures that you will avoid having one mega-pierogi clump when you are ready to cook them. To cook the pierogi: Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil and add the dumplings one at a time, until the surface of the pan is covered with dumplings. Do not overcrowd; you’ll have to work in batches. When they are done, about 2-3 minutes, remove with a slotted spoon. Transfer to bowls and serve sprinkled with green onions, parsley or chives, drizzled with a little melted butter or vinegar or topped with a dab of sour cream.
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Improvement
http://people-equation.com/self-improvement-are-you-progressing/self-improvement-and-progressing-quote/
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Today’s Spiritual Woman
Cheating as a Way to Write and Make Big Bucks.… By Vye Sieren Carlile
http://www.esubulletin.com/2010/12/02/6468
Okay, let’s face it, as we get older or more desperate to make money, some of us have succumbed to jobs available online from LinkedIn sources. I trust LinkedIn and found that most of my connections are truly serious professionals willing to network.
Enter writerbay.com. I had to take a test, provide proof of my doctorate, and then voila! Jobs appeared. The first one was easy – an essay explaining how the laity in the Catholic Church is called to action in today’s society. I jumped on that one and within thirty minutes submitted it and then looked for more writing opportunities and was simply shocked!
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FINAL TEST – essay…with directions and all. Don’t tell me I am tutoring someone on their final exam! And, yes, it paid $40 for the answers. It even provided the textbook from which to glean satient points. Okay. I’m not buying this. We are not providing simple samples. We are doing people’s homework, for Pete’s sake! And taking their tests. Is this legal? I’m sure it is not ethical and I tell the company. Oh, no! Our work is simply an example for the students to use. Yeah, right, and I’m gonna just look at the free cookie samples in the store – nah, if I like them, I will go back and eat them all. You bet those students are paying for their papers to be done. I am disgusted. Some are engineers, nurses, and therapists. Shame, shame, shame! I should have realized it when I saw that it had to be done by 26 hours or it was not needed. LOL. I lost $5. ‘cause I’m sure the company “ain’t gonna pay” me for tattling on them. To whom would I go? When someone called from the company to see which paper I was going to write, it sounded like someone named Mike straight out of India. Sure, this is on the fringe, but I am not supporting them.
MASABI
I’m still mad. I’m still shocked. Cheating. I always worried when I read a chapter or two and got ideas from the net – I was so worried it would be their words and not mine! Never mind giving references – I always stressed about that stuff. I was brought up a good Catholic girl and it is fully ingrained in me to be honest and good and all that stuff….It’s hard enough to exist in this world without adding negativity to one’s life. One thing I learned is that I am still naïve albeit I am now a grandma! I must be more careful, less impulsive, and investigate before I jump on board. I surely learned a lesson once more. But cheating is pervasive in our society. Did you hear about the recent brouhaha of teachers having proxy individuals (cheaters) take their licensing exams for them? Wonder if doctors have figured that one out, yet. Yikes! I have witnessed principals cheating and teachers cheating, but only within the confines of their school buildings. During essay tests for the state, I have personally witnessed teachers editing and correcting the exams and handing them back to the students to redo them. I was complicit as well, as I did nothing to change it. I just kept my silence. I think I was scared and didn’t want to believe what I saw….I even had a principal who changed the scores when submitted so that he could get more grant dollars from inflated assessments. I’m sure it is more rampant than I would like to believe.
Perhaps we are losing our religion as I state in another article. What is our society coming to? Or has it always been there?
This standard check to prevent Academic Dishonesty is being implemented on many of the Online University sites to ensure that plagiarism is reduced. http://thevarsity.ca/2010/09/14/dont-turn-it-in/
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Tears of the Horse By Cin Broyles
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Every year thousands of horses are bought, sold, and traded for gifts or as a dream possession. Unfortunately, a number of those animals become forgotten, neglected, or abused by the owners who were so happy to get them. Many arrive at auction yards, where, if not saved, they are sent to slaughterhouses across the borders. If they are lucky, the slaughter gun kills them at the first shot. Otherwise a slow death with multiple shots in the head finishes them off. I have seen videos of how they are killed - it is ugly and made me cry and then I became angry.
Where are those who might rescue these unfortunate animals? Although some horse rescue sites exist, space is limited, as are funds and volunteers to man the sites. Costs of running a rescue can sometimes be thousands of dollars a month. These rescued souls need veterinary care, or a Ferrier to repair the damage that standing in mud has done to their feet. They are underweight or have never had a human hand laid on them and are as wild as any mustang out on the range. Ponies that do not meet a breeder’s standards are rescued as well with hernias from birth because they were not tended to after found to be less then acceptable for show or sport. Many times rescuers use their own funds to help the horses. During the winter money is even tighter since most of the feed must come in the form of grains and hay, which becomes more expensive. MASABI
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I have had the pleasure of working with and seeing the miracle that one of the horse rescues near me has worked. From a rescued racehorse that was thrown away for nonperformance to two quarter horse fillies thrown away after the breeder failed to care for them after birth. This resulted in hernias that a local vet drastically cut the price of the surgeries so that Kim Madden and the Double K Corral horse rescue could afford their care. Currently Kim has fourteen horses she is working with, rehabilitating them so they can be adopted out to loving families (after careful screening to ensure they are not neglected again).
Kim Madden often used her own income to care for the horses and expended countless hours caring for them after working all day at her day job. Her weekends are spent with her children and husband who all kick in and care for the horses. Volunteers come and go and their help is always appreciated. Now Kim is in need of help since she recently lost her job and her unemployment barely covers her mortgage and some of the utilities. She has had to adopt out many horses lately before she felt they were really ready to go and now in order to help a rescue will be leasing her own horse (hopefully) in order to make the life of the rescued horse recover.
Post Article Update Kim is wonderful, but shortly after this article was written, I found that she was forced to close Double K’s doors. She hopes one day to come back and help horses recover and stand proud. Financial and legal paperwork mishaps have forced her to stop. Thank you, Kim, for your angelic heart and the passion you have for horses.
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Three Blind Men and a Lady Lola Carlile infused her life with the love of art and when she retired from education, decided to return to the classroom to study art therapy. Little did she know the road ahead would be filled with intense challenges working with mentally ill adults with little or no 66
sight. She tackled the challenges head on, discovering that the easy notion of using clay with these clients would not work - at least not at first. Fall in love with the characters as Carlile relates their story of struggling day to day to find peace and happiness - an experience neither the author nor the readers will soon forget.
MASABI
What I Learned about Engagement, Motivation, and Leadership from a 13-Month Old. By Mark Gorkin By Mark Gorkin, MSW Editor’s Note: The following article is only a condensed version of the inspirational article written by Mark, which is available at his website, as well as follow up articles worthy to read…. http://www-stressdoc-com.blogspot.com
I never imagined that just a few days interacting with my girlfriend’s granddaughter would provide such a dynamic learning laboratory on tactics and strategies for effective, if somewhat unconventional, leadership. My tutor is a bubbly, vivacious 13-month old, with auburn hair and pale blue eyes. It’s hard to resist squeezing this wide-eyed and broad smiling creature with her cute little nose and satin-soft skin. Charlotte is ever curious, likes getting her way, and taking charge of her immediate surroundings. Miss C. will growl like a tiger if you encourage her, yet she’ll hug and snuggle so tenderly with her “Bedtime Bunny.” The little dynamo enjoys playing with and endlessly manipulating blocks and Legos (and also feeding them to you). She only seems to fuss or cry when she’s overtired or when her diaper is over pooped. Oh, and she crawls on all fours on all kinds of surfaces at Road Runner speed. Having missed out on parenthood, I’ve never before spent this much undivided and intimate time with a oneyear old. At some point during my joy and fascination with Charlotte I sensed that there were aspects of our togetherness – our connection, relating, and mutual play – that had implications for building trust, engaging shared exploration and discovery, as well as empathically relating to and positively motivating all manner of adults.
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Get Down to Earth. Getting on the floor, toward (or resisting), or what she’s about to into the toy trenches with Charlotte, seeing and engaging her world from ground perspective, is bottom-line for building comfort, credibility, and trust. Being down to earth, coming off the authority pedestal (even if only periodically), helps reduce status differences; people can more easily acknowledge their own strengths and flaws when a leader doesn’t try to uphold a perfect image or wear an inscrutable mask. Finding such human and common ground allows folks to eyeball and identify with you, facilitating more open and spontaneous sharing and relating across generations.
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grab…and, of course, if anything is upsetting her. Unless there’s a break in the action, I typically hold off providing her an object to play with. (Actually, I just try “to be” – perhaps in a quietly receptive, “Taoistic” sense – though a smile invariably lights up my face. I don’t want to distract her; I simply want her to get used to my physical presence.) Eventually, I may ask her what she wants to do, knowing full well that message sent may not exactly be message received. However, her subsequent body language, actions, and choices will usually reveal if she likes my suggestion or not. For example, I may hold up a little orange disc, hide it inside a hard-covered book, and then ask Charlotte, Be Fully Present and Patient. Not so “Where’s the disc?” Initially, I have to turn the dissimilar from many adults or teens, little people pages to uncover the disc. But after one or two want attention. And while they cannot be the sequences, Charlotte starts turning the pages. perpetual center of the universe (despite what Upon finding the disc, her eyes widen and they may believe or demand), when in your illuminate wonder. Now she’s hiding the disc sphere of engagement...“Stop, Look, and Listen.” in the book, and we’re off and seeking all over Undivided attention gives a clear message: what’s again. transpiring between us is important to you, to me, and to our relationship…and btw, is being judiciously noted under the watchful eyes of a The Essence of Presence and Patience. mother and grandmother, along with significant My goal is not to get her to do what I want her others. (Think a one-on-one manner of relating to do. In fact, as previously stated, my goal is to affects how others perceive your “people skills” be present and patient – to observe what she is and capacity for group leadership?) Careful focused on or toying with and what subsequently attention, especially to a person’s emotional evolves in our interplay. Being fully present and framework and worldview, is at the heart of patient means taking the time to recognize and to respect. try getting in sync with the other’s energy, pace, and style of engagement, (e.g., is the individual presently tired, stressed, or alert?; is he or she quiet, reflective, or more of an introvert or Being and Playing with Charlotte. With active, talkative, or likely an extrovert?). You want Charlotte, being fully present means getting up to at least acknowledge the other’s psychological close and first seeing what she’s doing, who or state as well as likes and dislikes. what she’s engaged with, what she’s moving MASABI
Pay Attention to Verbal and Nonverbal
Blend Immediate Recognition and Purposefully Productive Praise.
Cues. Interacting with Charlotte, who isn’t quite In today’s electronic hyperspeed world, where talking yet (she can say “mama” and “dada” and to my girlfriend’s delight, also “nana”) highlights the importance of tuning into her body language – facial expressions, all manner of gestures, joyful or disdainful wiggling, squirming, and shaking – to an array of vocalizations – from squeals and screeches to whines and wails, all radiating personal and interpersonal meaning, whether obscure or obvious. And naturally, mirroring some of Charlotte’s spontaneous, non-stop fireworks extravaganza helps release my own inner child and its verbal and nonverbal exhibition of the primitive and the purposeful, the serious and the silly. I’m wired…experiencing a jolt of brain-body, bi-hemispheric peace of minds; and we are wired – the two of us are bonding, becoming, to use mom’s expression, “good buddies!”
Allow Others to Be the Director. As much as possible, I follow Charlotte’s lead, including crawling after her around the living room. I want to know her intentions and maybe learn her seedling aspirations. I choose to embrace, sometimes to chew on (in more ways than one), and build upon the objects she extends, to: a) affirm my appreciation of her valuable offering, b) concentrate on and mutually elaborate the game or task at hand, and c) encourage the construction of our “buddy bridge.” And even when I initiate a game or an experiment, I try to provide the smallest possible clue needed to arouse her attention and focus. I want Charlotte to choose the next step, whether she follows my lead or breaks off into an unexpected direction.
the next distraction or burning answer to a question is seemingly at your fingertips, the need for immediate feedback has almost become a craving. If this is the new normal, then the timing and manner of feedback, whatever the authority role, is mission and maturation critical…but especially with young children. When interacting with a one-year old, I suspect there’s something instinctual about the adult “oohs and ahhs” and immediate recognition garnered by Charlotte’s intended or accidental behaviors. For very quickly her actions stimulate both accolades (that universal chorus of she’s “so cute,” “so wonderful,” or “so smart”) and heightened awareness (for example, eyes on the prize help prevent little heads from bumping into table edges.) But after reading about a research study cited in the abovementioned, “Actionable Leadership in the Creative Age,” at some point, sooner rather than later, in my intentional interactions with Charlotte, I will likely forge a higher synthesis from “accolades” and “awareness” (especially involving my verbal communication). I shall be focusing on and appreciating Charlotte’s effort and determination more than her “wonderful talent” (or “good family genes”)…and have my feedback reflect this change in perception. “Why,” you may ask? (Hint: it has something to do with locus of control.)
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Praise Effort and Grit, Not Talent. Following are some examples of how to convey recognition of grit and perseverance in those around you: You really prepared for that meeting, and your presentation showed it. You researched the customer’s company and interests, outlined the problem perfectly and presented solutions very well. That really worked! I like the way you tried all kinds of strategies on that reporting problem until you finally got it. It was a long, hard research assignment, but you stuck to it and got it done. You stayed at the task, kept up your concentration and kept working. That’s great! I like that you took on that challenging project for the new business group. It will take a lot of work—doing the research, designing the integration, acquiring the resources, and building it. You’re going to learn a lot of great things… that will be valuable for yourself and for the company. Next time you see excellence, praise the effort it must have taken to get there. You’ll not only be rewarding excellence but also building growth and confidence.
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Practice Safe Stress!
MASABI
The Time Has Come. . . .
To live your life in peace and harmony To believe you are loved To find only the good in others To delete negative behaviors To embrace new experiences To let go of the past To embrace the future To begin caring for yourself
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INDIA
Shared by Karen & Maggie Watford
There are 140 million orphans in the world and 25 million just in India (equivalent to the population of Texas). Arranged marriages are still very much enforced, especially in rural areas of India. Also, you are not allowed to marry the one you love if they’re in a different cast. This breaks my heart. — at Ahmednagar City. Day 3 on the Palace on Wheels: Ranthambhor National Park and Chittaurgarh Fort! —
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MASABI
Saying prayers before snack.
After the colorful playground was installed, the scene was better, especially with the mural we completed. With very little rainfall, there is no hope for greenery in the vicinity. Texan Karen and her daughter Purdue graduate Maggie were part of Ambassador Team Savalee 2013 and headed to work with the children of Savalee Orphanage in January. They upgraded the orphanage in India by building a new children’s laundry area from a pile of rocks on the side of the road, to an area within the walls with running water and wash basins for boys and girls.
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They also built a new play area with a safe, colorful slide! They addded color to the children’s spaces (currently bare cinder block) by painting murals inside and out with all 50 children and staff! They received donations to The Miracle Foundation. This helped to provide orphaned children with hygiene improvements, play equipment and most importantly, a freshly painted, loving and nurturing environment to help them thrive.
Today’s Spiritual Woman
When encountering a whirlwind of emotions, it is often difficult to know just what to do. When facing difficult situations, whom do you turn to? And in times of extreme happiness, do you first thank who is responsible for that joy? Nancy Hurley learned at a young age that turning to God in every circumstance is the only way to make it through the tough times. When faced with the threat of a sexual predator, Nancy turned to God. When she was repeatedly put down and belittled by family members, she turned to God. When she married her husband Ron and gave birth to her sons, she turned to God. Her conversations with her Lord have been a constant in her life from the time she had her tonsils removed. When she was frightened, lost, sad, as well as overjoyed, she knew the Lord would see her safely through.
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You will find comfort in the heartfelt prayers Nancy lifts up to God in times of need and times of joy and will be inspired by this intimate relationship Nancy shares with the one who has been her strength through thick and thin in Close Encounters with My Lord - Conversations with God. This book can be purchased through me (nan4751@comcast.net) , Tate Publishing and Enterprises, Mustang, OK, or Amazon.com. The ISBN number is 978-1-61663-851-1. The price is $21.99.
Winter Issue 2013 of Today’s Spiritual Woman is a product of M.A.S.A.B.I. PO Box 2663; Salem, OR 97308 MASABI