cowgirl UP!

Been a very long time since I had my boots on. Got lots of boots. All of 'em cowboy boots and all of 'em well-worn and more comfortable than anything I've ever had on my feet. It's been a long time...because my feet weren't havin' it. And maybe...just maybe...it was something I needed to miss. Maybe it was all about remembering what matters most. Maybe...I just needed some time outta my boots so I could remember how much bein' in them matters to me.

Today, for the first time in more time I can count...I woke up all cowgirl-ed up. For those of you who have no clue what that means:

'Cowgirl up' is a rodeo saying. It's about picking yourself up, dusting yourself off, and gettin' back on the horse. In other words, quit your whinin' and get on with it.

Now that you know..

I woke up this morning with my cowgirl 'tude all in my face. This is a good thing. Well, for me anyway. Because as much as I love the softer side of me, there's that other side of me that I've not only missed, but I treasure beyond words. It's that part of me that knows about her courage and her cajones and her absolute ability to just freakin' do it. I've been paying so much attention to the 'softer' side, I'd forgotten just how much I love that other part. And I've missed her more than I can even tell ya.

True to form, first thing I did was grab my favorite pair of boots (and they're older than the hills!), dust 'em off and oil 'em up. And then....I said a little prayer to the Big Cowgirl and put my feet in them. No problem. Then...I stood up. NO PROBLEM! WOWYEEEEEFREAKINHAWWWW! GOT MY BOOTS ON!

If you've never had a pair of real cowboy boots...the kind that have horse shit stuck in the seams and scars all over the tops of them; the kind that fit like skin; the kind that have carried you from here to Timbuktu...you probably have no idea why this is such a big deal. But trust me when I say this: there is nothing better than puttin' on your boots and feelin' that feelin' of being home. Nothing better.

(a little aside: Right before I went to Italy for the first time, my cousin warned me to NOT wear my boots and hat. Told me I'd "look like a tourist". To which I responded, "I AM a tourist, you bonehead. And they're gonna know that with or without my boots. I'm wearing what's most comfortable to ME...cuz I'm gonna truck my pretty little cowgirl ass all over Italy...and I'm gonna enjoy the walk!" Turns out, those boots and that hat got me invited to more LOCALS (as in...people who lived there) parties than any stupid pretend shit ever would have. I was just being me...and they loved it! My authenticity (as it were) also got me a pair of CUSTOM-MADE leather jeans that would have cost me a small fortune had it not been for the Italian owner (of said shop) who happened to think cowgirls were the sexiest things on the planet. HAAAA!)

So today...I have on my boots. And for the first time in more time than I can count, I can feel that horse again. I can smell him. I can feel the wind in my hair and the energy we share and the absolutable indescribable joy of being the cowgirl I've always been.

THIS is my bliss.

the answer is YOU ~

There are few people who fire me up the way the gorgeous Reverend Dr. Michael Bernard Beckwith does. I'm tellin' you, this man makes my whole Being vibrate like ... well, I don't even know what to compare it to.

Yea. That much.

I first saw him on the original version of The Secret, some 3+ years ago. I recall that on the day I watched that film, I was so excited...because I knew something huge was about to shift in my world. Just had this giant feeling of anticipation; a feeling of absolute wonder that I hadn't felt since I was a kid. I'd heard about the movie from one of my dearest friends, who'd heard about it from a friend of hers. When she first told me about the nature of the movie, I had this distinct knowing that Abraham had to somehow be involved. It just sang of the teachings of Abraham, and I'd been recently exposed to some of those audio tapes too. I had listened with the awe of a child on her first visit to Disney Land. Everything they said (Abraham is a 'collective of entities', in case you didn't know; hence the word 'they') resonated in me and made my whole body tingle. At last I'd found someone who got it...or rather, who got how I felt about this thing called 'god'. I was hooked.

Anyway, so my friend tells me about The Secret and I order the movie and it finally arrives. I got it late in the afternoon, and still had stuff to do, so I decided I was going to wait and watch it the next day, when I'd have nothing to distract me, nothing on my calendar, nothing that would disturb my complete attention to this 'secret' that would be revealed.

I'll admit, when the film first started, I was a little disappointed. The gentleman who spoke first was not my cup of tea. But, I was not going to let one guy dissuade me from the feelings I had tingling through me. I continued on...with an open mind and an open heart. And that's when I heard his voice. Even before his face registered in my brain, that voice just rocked my world. Some people do that (to me). I felt a new surge of energy powering through me and I listened as he spoke about the exquisite nature of our Being. His words were like a soothing salve on a badly burned body; a salve that brings instant relief and miraculous healing. I was over-the-top blown away by this man.

Now, 3 years later, he's shown up again...with a new book called "The Answer is You". Subsequently, he just did his first airing on PBS, to share this information (or maybe a better word is 'inspiration') with the world. As I watched and listened I could feel that delicious tingling begin to build again, only this time it seemed so much...MORE. More delicious. More exciting. More beautiful with every word he spoke. I alternately laughed and wept. I had tears of joy running down my face as I wiggled in my chair, dancing to the rhythm of his voice. The funny thing is, the stuff he was saying wasn't necessarily 'news'. I mean, I'd heard lots of it before. But it was the way he delivered those thoughts. The manner in which he made me feel the thoughts, instead of just hearing them. The way he was able to transfer his own splendid energy....right through the TV screen across the room into me. I could almost see the electricity sizzling through the air, coming right at me in loving color. It was freakin' crazy!

Now, 2 days later, I'm still buzzing. I'm still alive with the reminders that he shared...and YES, they're just reminders. Because I believe that there isn't really anything we don't know. We have all the answers to every question we've ever asked or will ask. We, you and I, ARE the answer to those questions. Even the 'big' ones. So it's not about 'learning' what we don't know. It's about remembering what we've always known. Mostly, when we're confused or scared or hurt or angry...it's because we've simply forgotten. We've forgotten that we are Divine Beings...with all the Everything we could ever want, hope for, imagine, desire. We have ALL of it...right here inside of us. We just forget that part.

I'm telling you this now because it's a show worth watching. PBS typically airs such programs several times throughout the month. All you have to do is go online to PBS.com and check your local airing schedule. You'll find it, I have no doubt. And I promise you, it'll be one of the funnest hours you've ever spent in front of a television. Not kidding!

back and forth

So how do you not think about the pain when the pain is so big? How do you not fight it? How do you move into the pain without having it consume you?

It's been said that our bodies know exactly how to heal themselves. That there is no malady nor injury we cannot completely recover from. The trick is to believe it. To actually feel it all the way to the core of our being...and just let go of the limiting thoughts that say "no you can't". I want to believe it. More than anything. Sometimes I actually do. Other times, not so much. The 'not so much' comes when the pain is so freakin' big that it immobilizes me. And that, in turn, just pisses me off.

So how does one get from "here" to "there"?

Maybe it's about the stillness. Maybe all that's required is to lie still, breath well, and let the energy of the whole splendid Universe do it's work. Maybe it's about laughing at it. Staring it right in the face and laughing at it for the jokester that it is. The laughter is healing...I do know this. And it's very effective when that freakin' pain is that freakin' big. So what's the mystery?

Today, as I vacillate between pain and humor, the warrior wants to fight; the goddess wants to soothe. The warrior is heading for her armory...to gather her weapons and don her suit of steel. The goddess is whispering loving endearments into my ears. Back and forth we go...until...it is time to just BE.

it may not be one particular moment
that it all comes together
it may not be a sudden revelation
or cosmic epiphany
or an angel song bathed in light

instead, little by little
the lights begin to sparkle a bit more
and the trees seem to whisper your name
and tell you their secrets
the air begins to smell different somehow
as if
the goddess of the cosmic kitchen
is baking a batch of your favorite cookies

there may not be one particular moment
that you realize you are aware
but one day you just
ARE
and the world becomes so much more
than it ever was before
that moment arrived

and you find
that you smile so much more
...freely
...readily
...frequently

and you find
you CAN
anything at all

~~by taloula

Not a day goes by when I'm not reminded, in one way or another, just how much Magick surrounds me. Lots and lots of Magick. It's not just me, ya know. It's all of us. We're living in a Magickal world, filled with mystery and love and all kinds of wonders. It's just that, oftentimes, we just aren't paying attention.

I realize this is something I speak of...a lot. I also realize that while it may seem a bit redundant, it may also be that it bears repeating because if you're anything like me, you forget too. So what's the harm in reminding...both of us?

When ya think about it, everything is about the Magick. From the moment you open your eyes...all throughout the day...and on into the night, right up to the moment when you close your eyes and rest. And even while you're resting! Magick abounds, if we just pay attention to the moments.

For example, don't you think it's miraculous that you can plant a little teeny seed in some dirt, water it for a bit, and before long, something pops out of that dirt and grows? Spinach and tomatoes, tulips (well, those are bulbs, but why be persnickety?!) and snapdragons, avocados and pansies, zucchini and snap peas. You can plant, water, nurture, and love...and something will grow! Is this not Magick?

Then there's the more...intangible stuff. Like new friendships. Maybe you find a very cool website, something that really trips your trigger, and you dash off a little note to the person who owns the site. You tell them just how much you enjoy their offerings and send a little 'thank you'. Next thing you know, you've made a friend. You have zillions of things in common. You have the same sense of humor. You can hear their voice, even before you ever have a phone chat. It's as if you've known each other for a zillion years...and now you're back in touch. It's crazy. It's wonderful. It's MAGICK.

Let's not forget about the 'timing' stuff. Those splendid synchronicities that occur that make your skin tingle and your hair stand up on end. You can be thinking about someone, wondering how they're doing or where they are...and in a minute (or 10), the phone rings and there they are! Even if months or years have passed since you last spoke, it matters not. The moment you hear their voice, it's like you just talked to them yesterday. Magick.

Yea, I know. They're silly little things. But the silly things are the funnest things and that's what makes it even more marvelous. As my friend likes to say...REMARKABLE!!!

I love remarkable.
I love marvelous.
I love splendid.

I love the Magick.

Are you engaged?

the gratitude dance

OHHHH!!! This is FUN stuff. You really gotta watch this. I'm tellin' ya, you're gonna jump outta your chair and dance right along with 'em. SUPERFUNSTUFF!

those crazy doors...

You know how that saying goes...'when one door closes, another opens'...you know that one? Well, I'm here to tell ya, it's the truth. Even more, the harder that closed door slams, the bigger the treasure behind the next door. Kinda like Let's Make A Deal.

The 'deal' is...you have to let that other door close and not look back. You have to forgo any semblance of regret or fear, and just trust that the next door is going to have even more treasure behind it. You have to laugh in the face of change, knowing that change is always for your good. Always. While we are averse to it, we fight this knowing. We don't want anything to force us to have to rethink our thoughts. We want things to just be how they are.

That is not how Life works. Not even close. Life IS change. Without it, we may as well just go find a shovel and start digging a hole in which to lie...buried in remorse and regret. There is no Life without change. Change is the stuff of Magick. Magick is the stuff of Life. It's all one big, splendid ride that will thrill and stretch...if you're brave enough to go for the ride in the first place.

It never ceases to amaze me, though. The way those new doors open up and the timing of it all. Even in Death, we can find joy...if we're willing to allow it. Mostly, me thinks...we don't allow the joy because we've been 'programmed' to believe it's wrong. We're supposed to suffer when someone dies. We're supposed to rue their passing and miss them and cry and feel sorry for ourselves. We are not supposed to feel joy. Tell me how this works?

I'm guessing that most folks have experienced Death in some form or other. I'm guessing that most times, too, those experiences were not in the least bit pleasant. But the weirdest part of all is that even if we've experienced it over and over, we somehow don't manage to see there is another way to take that journey. This is a bit of a mystery to me. I mean, usually when we re-experience a thing, whatever it may be, we find a way to do it differently each time. Like we learned from the last go round...and we make the choice to try something else the next go round. Ya know? So how come we don't do that with Death? Why is it that we can't see the beauty in Death? Is it because we're so afraid of living? Or maybe...it's because we don't know HOW to live.

Today I look around at my world and marvel at the mysteries of both Life and Death. I marvel at the doors that are opening, even as I write this...and all the possibilities of new adventures. The joys of friendships and the power of love. The limitless power of those possibilities...in all their unknown flavors. And as I allow my Self to walk this path, without fear or apprehension, I marvel, too, at how differently I can 'see' now. The way I am able to observe it all...as if I'm watching from outside my Self. Maybe that's what those sages have been trying to tell us all along. Don't take it so personally! Don't play the victim. Don't short-change your Self in the name of Ego. Just play, for godssake! Play and laugh and let it be.

Cuz in the end...it's all about the ride.

As I work through this process...slowly and with as much patience as I can dig up, I have resisted posting on this particular Blog, as it is meant to foster Joy and not add to anything "less than". As the days have gone by, however, I've realized that there is a part the mourning process that is Joyful. Because, as I walk through it, I am filled with both...Joy and Sadness.

The Sadness is for my Self. For the part of me that hasn't yet come full swing into the knowing that I am always whole and always loved, regardless of the physical presence or absence of a loved one. I know it...in my mind, that is, but the feeling part of it is not yet anchored. The feeling part is in discord with the knowing part. And so...it is a process.

I think we all have our own ways of dealing with Death. Just as we are all unique, special in our own way, so then are the ways in which we deal with Death. We find our way through, moment by moment...even when some of those moments feel as if they're a year and a half long. Perhaps it is the shock of it all. When Death arrives, unannounced and without fanfare, it is such a surprise. So the shock leads to denial. And then...usually, to anger. This go 'round, though, there has been neither anger nor denial for me. Only shock...and then the vacillating ride of sadness and joy. I am sad because he's not here. I am sad because I can't touch him or play with him or brush him now. I am sad because there was something about him that made something about me very different. But must I lose that, even in his absence? Can I not keep that part of me that he helped grow...even as he flies in the Great Elsewhere?

The Joy is from having had the time to be with him. To help him recover from his own maladies and horrors, of which there were many. To have been able to help him heal, and allow him to help me heal. And then, to watch him flourish under the love and caring from not only myself, but the others around us. He was so happy here. For the first time in his life, he was happy and safe and allowed to be who he was. It showed on his face and in his eyes. It was even heard in his sassy, funny voice. Yes, he was happy and I was a part of that. The lessons he taught me and the way he taught them...all contribute to the Joyful part of this process. So, back and forth, back and forth, sad and joyful, sad and joyful...allowing the feelings to come and not resist any part of them. Just to BE...as I travel the road called Death.

I am not afraid of Death any more. Nor am I unaware of how beautiful a process even it can be. I watched it happen...and it was beautiful. I've never been able to understand that before now. To hear someone say Death was beautiful always sounded so dumb to me. That was before I witnessed this one...before I saw the love in his eyes as he took that last breath and left. What an amazing thing to behold. What a gift to have been a part of.

Death may not be a welcomed guest, but it is nothing to fear. It is, perhaps, merely another way to remind us of just how precious every moment is. Every single moment...even the sad ones.

A Tribute To DaBud

He came into our lives, broken and near death. His arrival was as miraculous as his recovery...and with each passing day, his fun-loving, goofy Spirit rose up and brought us great joy, and laughter, and love.

Now he flies. Today, without pain or fanfare, he laid in his favorite spot, and left his earthly body, leaving us in awe of his grace.

We will miss him dearly. We will always remember how much he changed our lives...all of us. He was an angel, sent to remind us that life is, indeed, whatever we choose to make it.

I love you, My BuddyBoy.
Soar ~

Isn't it wonderful how people show up in your world at just the perfect moment? It's that whole magick thing again. I know I talk about this a lot...but it's because it's so present in my world...a lot. Pretty much every day something magickal happens. Even on days when I don't see it right away, I'll see it tomorrow. Or while I'm dreaming. Or just as I'm coming out of dream state. But, no matter when I see it, it's always there. And this thing with people showing up...well, it's one more bit'o'magick.

This latest 'arrival' came by way of a piece I'd written on HolisticHealthArticles.com. It's not my usual style of writing, but I do it because I adore the man who owns the site AND it's a good way for me to stretch. So I'd written this piece and a lovely woman (who also writes there) contacted me with some questions. Even as I read that first email, I felt something very familiar about her. Like I'd known her for a million years and we'd somehow 'lost touch' but now she was back. I wrote her back, answering her questions, with no expectations about anything. 5 minutes later another email arrived. For the rest of that day we emailed back and forth...little bursts of familiar humor and friendship. The more I read, the harder I laughed. And then...

She wrote something that was so darned funny I just had to call her. We'd already exchanged phone numbers but both of us had been quite busy and hadn't yet made the call. When she picked up the phone I said, "Hey girl. It's Camille. How ya doin'?" If you could have heard the screech you'd have been rollin' on the floor with me. It was hilarious. She made it sound like Oprah had called her. She was that excited. Cracked me up. After she finally caught her breath, we spent a while...just chattin' away about this and that. The whole time we did, it was as if we'd been friends since kindergarten. I'm tellin' ya, it was a riot!

Today, as I sit here in the warmth of this friendship, I'm reminded of all the others that have grown in the past couple of years. People I've met via the Internet...or via something I wrote and then met face to face...all of them as dear to me as those I've known my whole life. It's the most amazing thing to me! This woman is as much fun as a litter full of puppies. She's not only funny and incredibly brilliant, she's got a heart the size of the Grand Canyon and a laugh that'll tickle you to your toes. My kinda gal.

So now...I'm sharing it all with you because I want very much to remind you that Magick Happens. All the time. Every single day, it's right there waiting for you to engage it...with a mere thought (and an "Abra Cadabra") your Magick is there for you to create your own dazzling reality.

Go on. Say it...

ABRAAAAA CADABRAAAAAA!

There used to be a show on TV, I think it was back in the mid-60's, that starred Don Adams and Barbara Feldon as Agents 86 and 99 respectively. The name of their spy team was “Control”. Their nemesis was “Chaos”. The show ran for about 5 years; it apparently had quite a following, mostly due to the remarkable chemistry between the 2 actors, and the absolute absurdity of the bumbling Agent 86. I recall it was one of my family's favorite shows. I also remember my dad being pretty pissed when it went off the air. Such is the life-span of slap-stick comedy.

Now, some 35 years later, the show has popped up again. This time, however, it isn't on Prime Time. This time has been resurrected by way of a brilliant woman (hereafter to be called 'The Reverend Mischief'...with great affection, of course!) who leads a most unusual kind of 'ministry' that encompasses not spies nor religious fanatics, but instead, people who want to remember just who they are and why they're here. It's a very different kind of teaching from those I was raised with; fun and light and incredibly inspiring. The Reverend has certainly got a special talent.

One of my sisters (hereafter to be called 'Letizia', also with the greatest affection and a giggle) attends these weekly gatherings and, each Monday, after she's had some time to 'digest' the previous day's insights, calls me to share the teachings and her enthusiasm with me. It's the highlight of my Mondays. We spend an hour talking about what the darling Reverend Mischief has offered and then discuss our own insights regarding the topic. It's fun. It's also very thought-provoking stuff. The kind of stuff that lights a fire under the ass of my often-absent Muse who seems to be spending more time at the pool than anywhere else. The little sun-goddess on holiday.

So today, when Letizia called to share the yesterday's musings, she said that the Reverend had used the old TV show as her launching pad into the mysteries of Control and Chaos. Even before hearing what she said, I was completely blown away by the creativity of this woman's unusual approach to spiritual growth. Very freakin' cool. And clever. And so outside the box.

I listened intently to her description of the talk, allowing no commentary to escape my lips nor any kind of outside thoughts to distract me from the whole message. I wanted to hear how she went from Maxwell Smart, the bumbling Agent 86, to spiritual enlightenment, or, as I like to call it, Remembering Me.

The gist of the whole message was this: we have this idea that we're in control of many things in our lives. We think that by using mere intelligence we can manipulate the Chaos into some semblance of order, thereby minimizing our pain and fear, in hopes of gaining some power in our lives. The more we try to Control, the more we bumble our way through, never quite able to find the comfort that we think Control will provide. We push and shove and fight and run and scream and holler and pitch our puny human fits, all the while losing our grip on the slippery slope of Chaos.

It just doesn't work.

There are moments when we think we've got it. We fool ourselves for a second or five, believing that we do, indeed, have Control and the world seems a more tolerable place. Our fears are reduced to little more than pesky annoyances, like swarming gnats that fly in your face but never take a bite outta you. Our sense of stability seems to grow a little, as if we've had a week's worth of Power Bars in a day's time. We breathe more deeply, smile more often, and laugh at the things that, mere moments ago, terrified us.

And then...out of nowhere, something happens to demolish the whole peaceful facade. We get in a car crash or we lose our job or the person we thought was a friend turns out to be the ultimate traitor. The feeling of Control flies out the window in a New York second (which, by the way, is much faster than an ordinary second. New York is funny that way), leaving us right back where we started: out of control and tumbling through the Chaotic Spiral, as if we were surfing the Big Kahuna and a Great White Shark just ate our board.

Big Trouble.

As the waves of Chaos turn us upside down, inside out, this way and that, we struggle to grab hold of something, anything, to keep us from going down again. We gasp for air, even as the panic rises in our throat, nasty bile that threatens to expel our last meal all over the sandy white beaches of our imagined paradise. Chaos has won the war and Control has fled the battle field like an army of cowards.

Here we go again.

But what if the whole battle between Control and Chaos is merely our own illusion of what they really are. I mean, what if Control isn't really control at all. Nor Chaos really chaos. What if the entirety of the Universe, god included, is really not at all controlled or chaotic? What if one is the other, and vice versa? What then?

If we were to lose the illusions of either, we might then realize that there is no need to struggle for the one (Control) or struggle through the other (Chaos). If we really knew that there is only order, only oneness, only harmony as we walk through each moment of our lives, perhaps there wouldn't even be a need for the words to define them at all. We could just remove them from our vocabulary. No more “Control”. No more “Chaos”. Kinda like the way words that were once used by the great bards of times gone by are no longer part of our vocabulary now. Words like 'thee' and 'ere' and 'ebon' and 'anon'. Who uses those words now? Mostly...nobody. They're as gone as Shakespeare, dead and buried in the poetic recesses of their own little coffins.

I say we bury 'Control' and 'Chaos' too. I say we give up the illusion, let go the reins, and let that Stallion of Spirit fly in the wind. We are one with the essence of Life. We are It and It is us. There is no separation. There is no bearded guy in the sky. There are no 'special ones' who have a Hot Line to the Cosmos. We are all special. We are all gods. We are all powerful and wise and fully capable of surfing the Big Kahuna, with or without a board.

Put another way, God cannot exist without Us. Nor we without It. So how about we let go of the whole idea of Control and Chaos, and just BE. Isn't that what living is all about anyway?

We call ourselves “Human Beings”.

So I ask ya...what are you BEING?

Just when ya think you've found the secret formula, the perfect mix of stuff to really live as you intended, something else shows up and you realize that the mix wasn't as perfect as you thought. Or maybe, it was then, but it's not now. Like just a few seconds ago, when it was only 62* and the sun was shining on the prism in the window to my left creating a roomful of rainbows that bounced off my hands and made me feel like I could reach out and point my fingers and say abra-cadabra and manifest a pot full of gold right here next to me....and then...it's suddenly 64* and the rainbows are gone cuz the sun has moved in 3 seconds flat and the magick has passed...

but wait...

There it is again. The rainbows are back but they're brighter now and the air is a little warmer and the tingles are running through my whole body instead of just my hands and I just know I could reach out and say abra-cadabra and now it's not a pot of gold but a whole sea of treasures mine for the having.

It's like that.

These moments that pass as quickly as we can blink black-lashed eyelids without knowing we have. Moments that hold a myriad of possibility, all as magickal as the ones before them. And the more you try to grab one....just one little moment...and hold onto it, the more elusive it becomes.

Moments are like that, huh?

In my next life, I want to come back as my cat. This angel of a creature has THE LIFE! It may seem that I'm a bit obsessed with her lately, but I promise you, there's good reason for it. She really is extra-special. I'm not just saying that because she's mine (or rather, I'm hers...cuz let's face it, nobody OWNS a cat. They are their own masters and we are their loving attendants. End of story.) But really, it's not just because she's 'mine'. Even people who don't like cats at all find her to be both charming and adorable. Add to that the fact that she doesn't make even the most allergic-to-dander people so much as think about sneezing...and...well, like I said, she's extra special.

Right now, as is usually the case when I'm at my computer, she's using my arm as a pillow, seemingly undisturbed by the movement as I type. Occasionally, she does that half-opened-eyes thing and takes a peek at me as I work. Maybe she's checking to see if I'm smiling. Or maybe she knows how much I adore her beautiful eyes. Who knows? Whatever her reasons, she seems to take great pleasure in lying beside me as I work. She has full freedoms all day and into the evening. She can come and go as she pleases, indoors or out. I've never been one to try to confine a critter, especially not a cat. It just doesn't seem right to me. I tried it only once. While living in the seedier part of Nashville, where raging rednecks took great joy in running up onto sidewalks and into front yards to run over any animal they spotted in their monster trucks. Insane sub-human beings who I'd have loved to tar and feather, given the chance. I kept my cat locked in the house the entire time we lived there. It drove both of us crazy; but I wasn't willing to take the chance. I didn't stay there long and this was a large part of my 'why'. Just couldn't bear seeing my darling kitty sitting in that window all day every day, looking like the caged animal she was. Horrible horrible horrible.

As I was saying...Chella has full freedom...until I hear the coyotes start their early evening concert at dusk. They gather together in large packs very close to our house, and when they do, the sounds are blood curdling. Now, I have to tell you that I am one of those who believe that the coyotes have as much right to eat and thrive as we do. They were here long before these houses were built, on their stomping grounds. Who am I to say they should be shot dead? Instead, I just make sure Chella's in the house when the coyote chorus begins....and she stays in the house until the sun has risen the next morning, and the coyotes have taken cover for the day. Given that she has such 'freedoms', I find her choice to sit with me even more endearing. She does go outside early in the morning to do her early morning 'business', and hunt for a while. She prefers not to use the litter box (gotta love that!) unless it's pouring down rain, which is quite rare in these parts. Once her morning rounds have been made, she comes back into the house, walks to the bottom of the stair well, and 'speaks'. This is, apparently, her way of checking to see if I'm upstairs or not. She has a very distinctive 'voice' which can be heard quite clearly from great distances. As soon as I hear her, I answer back. "I'm up here, AngelGirl. Whatcha doin'?" and up she comes, chatting the whole way. I am NOT making this up! She does this every time she enters the house. And she does chat all the way up the stairs into whatever room I happen to be in, and keeps right on chatting until she's shared her adventures in great detail. She's quite the conversationalist. Once we've had our chat, she may go have a little snack or sit on the pile of pillows next to my desk to preen, and then she jumps up on the desk to take her spot next to me.

If it happens that she wants to play, she will not be denied. She has a whole big bag of tricks she uses to get my attention. Sometimes she grabs one of her toys and brings it into the room, tossing it at my feet. Apparently she has no idea she's a cat. If this doesn't get my attention (it always does, but sometimes I'm engrossed and choose to ignore her), then she starts this running around like a lunatic...from room to room, up and over and under the furniture, pouncing on this or that along the way. If this doesn't work, she marches to my large wooden desk and reaches up onto one of the legs...digging in with her very long claws (I never cut them. That'd be like sending a soldier onto a battlefield without ammo for his guns. Not fair!) She doesn't actually scratch the leg of the table, she just digs in enough for me to hear the sound. I WILL NOT BE IGNORED! The moment she does this, I stop whatever I'm doing and attend to her demands. She's got me trained quite well. Clever kitty.

Each and every evening, without fail, just after dinner, she follows me around the house, demanding to be brushed. She will not stop until I sit on the floor and brush her until she's shining and free of the shedding fur of her luxurious coat. She's a long-haired mix of some kind (we don't really know what...but what difference does it make?) and the shedding is pretty much year-round. I must clean the brush a minimum of 3 times before this process is complete. Again, she will not be denied. In her world, this is an absolute requirement, much as our need to eat and bathe and sleep is. When she's had enough, she grabs the brush and/or my hand, and bites until I let go. Communication has never been an issue for her.

As bedtime approaches, our rituals are as predictable as sunset on planet Earth. I have a quick shower (I love getting in bed all fresh and clean!), brush my teeth, and turn off the lights on my way to the bedroom. No matter where Chella happens to be when I reach the bed, the moment I've settled in with whatever book I happen to be reading, she pounces on the bed in her very grand manner, and comes right up to my face to touch noses. She does this every night. We have a few moments of purring and snuggling and cooing...and then she settles up against me while I read. When I turn out the light, she moves over a bit, to let me adjust and then moves back closer again, purring as I drift off into my happy slumber. This is how we end our days, every single one of them.

This is a creature who has taught me about the splendor of 'the little things'. She shows me all day every day just how easy it is to live in the moment. How to appreciate this glorious life we live. How to laugh at the oddest moments, and not take myself so seriously. She is full of life and love and incredible genius. She is my daily bliss.

In my next life, I want to come back as my cat.

EEEYOOOOWZAAAAAAAAA!

It's SEPTEMBER!

Do you know what that means???

It means that in the blink of an eye it's gonna be Thanksgiving...and then Yule Season...and then...

Holy Crap!

Another year gone by!

I'm sitting here, looking at the thermostat (which is above 100), with the AC running (something I rarely do!) and the withering plants thirsting for an iota of moisture. We can't run our sprinklers because there are wild fires (which, in fact, should be called 'stupid fires' due to the carelessness of boneheads who just don't get it) and so we need to 'save water' so the fire fighters can fight fires.

HUH?

Anyway...rather than rant about all that...I'm going to shift to the GOOD.

I'm sitting here with the AC on (set at 85 NOT 68...because even just 15 degrees of separation is c-o-o-l) and grateful for the amenity. AC and ceiling fans and food in my fridge and a computer to do my work and a life oh-so-full-a-LOVE. Yep. Life is good.

Chella lies here beside me...all comfy right below the blower where the cool air is filling the room. She's got her head on my right hand (as I type), undisturbed by the movement of my fingers...happy to just BE. Her eyes do twitch a bit...if I move too errantly...but mostly she simply adjusts...

as it should be.

She accepts this compromise because she knows how happy it makes me that she lies here as I work. She knows, without a stitch of doubt, that no matter WHUT...her presence is truly a gift. She also knows that there's nothing in this world that I wouldn't do to give the love back.

She knows this because she's truth. There are no lies in critters. Nor ulterior motive. Nor any semblance of malice. Oh no. Critters get it.

And so...here I sit...with Chella and AC and a glorious view of my world...all unfolding precisely as it should...and that deep well of gratitude is full to the brim. I look around at all that I have, all that I am, all that I am right now, and I feel the knowing of endless love that flows in this magnificent space I call home.

Life is good.