No. That is not a typo. And no, I've not signed on to any one of the astronomical array of similar sites ending in .com but I have been privy by way of invitation. A couple of girlfriends asked me to write their bios. I can be a very creative writer upon request.

The exposure reinforced my desire to finish a play I've started. A comedy diving into the waters of the alpha-male vs the beta-male and the women who love them or hate them or are indifferent to them. It also delves into the women they prefer and the ways and means to get their attention. Did I mention it was a comedy?

After perusing a variety of pictures and reading the best 400 characters these lonely characters could come up with, I have to write a happy ending in honor of the effort they've made (or that of their creative writer friends). Anyway, while "researching" I got an overwhelming urge to write "John" to hook him up with "Tina" because they were clearly running on the same circuitry. "Tina", btw, is not one of my friends. She was one of hundreds of woman profiled. It's like a hardcore game of Memory. And, with vague remnants of Desmond Morris floating in my brain, I felt, more often, like I was drowning in an underwater zoo with a few sharks swimming around.

As I helped my friends, particularly this last one, pitch themselves to total strangers, it became clear to me that I had to keep this to a 60 second commercial. Seriously, how many "clicks" does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll (or a) Tootsie Pop? If you're asking this sucker, the world may never know.

K...admit it, that was a little funny...a little?

If that's not random, try this on: Then I got to thinking about the Ego and how it gets a bad rap of being, well, egotistical or egocentric. I keep my definition simple and to the point: It is the paradoxical 'eye/i'. The 'eye' seeing itself within the context of the world around it -- material vision that has the ability to change perspective -- and, yet, maintains the 'i' that is the constant extension of Source/Big Fat "I". Why would these random thoughts even matter? It was interesting how my friends saw themselves. How the "eye" of one was so different from the "eye" of another but that the "i" in both of them wanted the same thing: Love.

And I'll be damned before I impede upon that so the 'eye's have it.



I Feel Completely Better Now...

French novelist Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) is generally regarded as one of the greats. His book Madame Bovary appears on many lists of the greatest novels of all time. And yet writing didn't come especially easy for him. He worked as hard as a ditch-digger. It wasn't uncommon for him to spend several agonizing days in squeezing out a single page. On some occasions he literally beat his head against a wall, as if trying to dislodge the right words from their hiding place in his brain. He's your role model in the coming week, Virgo. You can create something of value, although it may require hard labor. -- Rob


Senorita Chick-A-Dee

Quite some time ago, beneath the mountains of Northwestern Mexico, a small village flourished. Everyday in The Village of Work-So-Hard the people worked hard to make the land rich and prosperous. Each morning the year round, the rooster’s crow beckoned them to till the soil, plant the seeds, help the seeds to grow, and harvest the precious crops that grew. When the crops were harvested, the villagers would gather in the marketplace under the bright blue sky to sell to local and distant travelers the finest produce the region had to offer.

Sadly, the land did not belong to the villagers. It belonged to a greedy emperor named Perezoso. For many years, Emperor Pereszoso demanded the villagers pay him most of what they earned in the marketplace. When they did, he allowed them to stay. He knew all too well how much they loved and wished never to leave the beautiful village. He, however, loved only the sound of the silver and the gold their hard work put into his pockets. When a villager could not earn enough to satisfy Perezoso’s greed, he sent them away to live far, far beyond the mountains.

Like any village, Work-So-Hard had tall people, short people, round people, and rather narrow people. It also had many young people but only one very old person. Her name was Abuelita Olga. Abuelita was not only very old, she was also very odd. She worked slowly and many worried the day would come when Emperor Perezoso would force her to leave their beautiful village. Each day the villagers took turns visiting her. They helped the old woman with her small garden and fed her little chicken named Senorita Chick-A-Dee.

Abuelita Olga loved her little chick. She would often boast, “My Senorita can swim like a swan,” or, “My Senorita can fly like an eagle.” Her favorite thing to say was, “My Senorita can sing like a nightingale.” The villagers shook their heads with worry as they listened to her odd words. Even poor Chick-A-Dee shook her sad little head, for she did not believe that she could swim, fly, or sing to help her dear Abuelita.

Alas, the feared day arrived. The frightened villagers followed the emperor as he strolled down the beautiful lane that led to the old woman’s home. There they found her feeding bits of corn to Senorita Chick-A-Dee.

Emperor Perezoso exclaimed, “You, anicena, are too old to work! You are no longer useful to my village!”

“I will not go,” she said oddly. “I am of value and so is my sweet Senorita.”

“The pollo?” The emperor scoffed in disbelief. “That scrawny chick? She is not worth the bits of corn you feed her!”

Throwing down her entire handful of corn, Abuelita said, “No, su Majestad, she is worth more, mucho mas. My Senorita can turn stones into diamonds.”

The emperor gasped. The villagers gasped. And Senorita Chick-A-Dee nearly choked on her bit of corn.

“Las piedras into diamantes!” Emperor Perezoso sang.

“Pure sparkling diamonds bright like the jeweled stars in the beautiful night sky!”Abuelita sang louder.

“Tonight,” the emperor began with great excitement, “I will have my servants gather las piedras and place them in the old village barn by the pond. You bring this scrawny chick and we’ll see if she is worth what you say. If she turns the stones into diamonds before tomorrow’s sunrise, you may remain in my village and my eyes will feast upon my treasure; if she fails, you must leave and my mouth will feast upon sopa de pollo.”

The villagers gasped, “Chicken soup!”

“Si!” The emperor warned.

Abuelita looked at the emperor and then down at her chick. She thought for a moment then turned to the villagers, “Adios, I must pack our bags.”

“What!?!” exclaimed the greedy emperor.

“We are leaving,” she said picking up Senorita Chick-A-Dee.

“But – but – what about the diamantes?” demanded the emperor.

Abuelita lifted the little chick closely to her face and said, “I do not think it fair that you should work so hard and be left with nothing to show for it.”

Abuelita turned towards her home, “Come little one, we are leaving.”

“Espera!” wailed the greedy emperor. “What do you want?”

“I will ask her what she wants,” said Abuelita, putting the chick next to her ear.

“Pollos cannot speak!”

“Shhh,” she insisted and turned away from the emperor giving Senorita her full attention. “Ahhh!” she said turning back to the emperor. A tender smile graced her face.

“What!?!” The emperor begged in frustration.

“She wants the land.”

“Fine!” The emperor said pointing to the ground. “You may keep your bit of land.”

Abuelita shook her head. “Farewell dear friends.”

“Espera! Espera!”

“Su Majestad,” Abuelita’s words were slow and quiet. “She wants all the land of Work-So-Hard.”

The emperor threw his hands upward towards the blue sky, then down again with a great sigh. He looked the little chick over with scrutinizing eye.

“For my land,” he paused in deep thought then spoke, “your scrawny chick must turn every single stone in the village into a diamond. Everyone in the village must gather the stones.”

Emperor Perezoso thought this would anger the villagers. To his great surprise, the villagers quickly began the hard work of gathering the stones and taking them to the barn. He did not understand that in their hearts they believed in Abuelita, though their heads told them this was all very odd.

While the villagers continued the hard task of carrying the stones, Abuelita Olga prepared Senorita Chick-A-Dee for the long stay in the old village barn. She gave the little chick a small bag of corn and placed a beautiful red bow in her lovely soft feathers.

Looking fondly at her chick, she said, “Don’t fear my little amiga. You, like each stone on the ground, each star in the sky, are special. You are as special as the swan, the eagle, and the nightingale. You must remember the magic that makes our seeds grow. Use that magic, my sweet Senorita. It will not fail you. Crees, Chick-A-Dee. Believe.”

The time had come. With a quiet anticipation, Abuelita Olga took Chick-A-Dee down to the barn where they were greeted by a crowd of very tired villagers. Emperor Perezoso wasted no time and quickly pulled open the door of the old barn. Chick-A-Dee slowly entered and was overcome by stones filling the barn side to side, top to bottom. Abuelita and the villagers watch the poor little chick struggle to climb the huge pile. When she finally reached the top, the emperor commanded, “Back to your homes, villagers, and leave her to her work!”

Abuelita blew a kiss to Senorita Chick-A-Dee and, with tired hopefulness, she and the villagers left the small chick alone with the emperor. The emperor, holding the door tightly, said to Chick-A-Dee, “I shall see you at dawn with diamonds or see you at supper as soup!” With a strong slam of the door, he locked her inside and she began to cry and cry and cry.

“Chick-A-Dee!” came a sudden voice from above her. She looked up to see the familiar face of her old friend, Senor Rooster, perched from a hole in the roof of the barn.

“You’re so sad and scared. How can I help you?”

“Oh, Senor Rooster, you cannot help me. Abuelita has told the emperor that I can turn stones into diamonds.”

“Oh, ey – ey – ey – ey – ey!”

“Si,” Chick-A-Dee began to cry again. “What am I to do? I do not know the magic that makes the seeds grow.”

“But everyone in the village knows.”

“They do? Do you?” Senorita asked hopefully.

“Of course!”

“What is it?” she begged to know.

“Hard work,” he said as he hopped down to her. “Very hard work, Senorita.”

“How do we begin?” She asked picking up a stone.

“I must fly to the heavens and gather the stars and bring them back here.”

“And should I,” Senorita asked timidly, “take the stones through the hole in the barn and drop them into the pond to make room for the stars?”

“Si!” cried the rooster.

“Espera! I cannot swim. Can you fly?”

“We must believe. Be my swan and I will be your eagle. Together, we will make magic and to pass the time we will sing quietly like the nightingales. Crees, Chick-A-Dee. Believe.”

Chick-A-Dee, picking up another stone courageously said, “Si, I believe.”

All through the night, Senorita Chick-a-Dee and Senor Rooster shared in the hard work of throwing stones and gathering stars. At first, it was very difficult. But the more they sang the easier it became until, at last, the pond was filled, the sky was dark, and the barn sparkled like diamonds. Tired and hungry, the two friends shared the small bag of corn Abuelita had given Chick-A-Dee.

“There is only a little time left before sunrise. I must prepare to call the sun.”

“Wait!” Chick-A-Dee said, removing the red bow from her feathers. “I can never thank you for helping me, but please take this. It is all I have, but it is yours.”

Senor Rooster tied it around his neck and with a gracious bow he made his way back to the roof.

The villagers, too anxious to sleep, quickly dressed and gathered in the lane to see Senorita Chick-A-Dee. They were stunned by the brilliant blaze that shone from beneath the door and through the many holes of the old barn.

“She has done it!” the villagers rejoiced as they ran to the barn. “She has turned piedras into diamantes!”

Emperor Perezoso, enraptured by the sparkling light radiating from within, ran and grasped the handle on the old barn door.

“Mine! All mine!” Within the very moment he threw open the door, a loud cry pierced the morning air: “Cock-a-doodle Doooooooooooooooo!”

Suddenly, as the sun’s rays peered above the horizon, the barn began to ferociously shake. Frantic to flee, the stars began shooting one after another, after another, back up into the sky. Everyone watched in awe. Everyone except Emperor Perezoso.

“Espera! No! Those are my diamonds. Stop! Stop, I say!”

Blinded by their brilliance and blinded by his greed, Emperor Perezoso grabbed the corner of one sparkling star with all his might and it shot him straight into the heavens.

As the villagers pointed toward the sky in amazement, Abuelita picked up Senorita Chick-A-Dee and kissed her soft, sweet, feathery head. The little chick yawned then looked up towards the roof of the old barn where she saw her dear friend Senor Rooster yawning, too.

“You must be so tired,” Abuelita Olga said. “Sleep for now, my little chick. We will celebrate later.” Laying her head on the old woman’s shoulder, Chick-A-Dee nodded and closed her eyes.

Just as Abuelita had promised, there was great celebration that night honoring Senorita Chick-a-Dee who, with the help of her friend Senor Rooster, saved The Village of Work-So-Hard by magically turning stones into diamonds.

Even now, on that special day of rest when the sky darkens and the stars awaken, the villagers, some short, some tall, some round, some rather narrow and some very old, gather in the marketplace to search the heavens for Emperor Perezoso sparkling far, far beyond the mountains.

Illustration by Linda F. -- My long lost friend whom I hope to find soon. All Rights Reserved © 2005


A True Fable From The Coffee Table

Once upon a time there was a woman who ran a coffee shop. This coffee shop was a holy place. Above the door there was a sign that said: God Is Love. Many people -- from all over the world who found themselves in this small town that sat on a famous highway -- would drop by to drink her coffee. Now, they really had no choice seeing that it was the ONLY coffee shop around but that didn’t deter them from saying: This coffee is so great. The coffee was great because the woman’s focus was to make great coffee and to spread the love of God (which was like an extra shot of your favorite flavoring). But in the mix of making coffee and spreading love to others, she would often not partake of either for herself.

One day, a lady walked into the coffee shop. She had lived in the small town for almost two years and, not being much of a coffee drinker, had never thought to visit. For some reason, that one day she did. She found the coffee shop empty except for the woman who looked up from the counter and greeted her with a smile. But it was a sad smile. She had been crying a little. Oddly, sometimes this lady would be somewhere; a bus stop, a grocery store or just anywhere, and people would tell her things. Personal things. Important things. And this day was no different. The woman that made coffee said she was very lonely. Twelve years of long loneliness after leaving a heartbreaking marriage. This day she felt most lonely of all because no one had come in for coffee. So, the lady that didn’t drink coffee ordered a mocha. Surprisingly, she found that is was so great. And she began to visit. Often. And the lady and the woman became very good friends in a very short time. However, the woman would continue to talk of her loneliness. Then one day the lady who had quickly become addicted to mocha lattes with an extra shots of mocha had an idea. She wondered if it would be possible not to talk about the loneliness because, like the coffee, the woman was good at focusing on it. It was great in the woman’s life to the point of being the woman’s life. Instead, the lady thought it might be fun to pretend that the fellow the woman wanted in her life was already there. Because the woman loved the lady, she heard her and trusted her. The woman wanted to know what she should do and the lady said: I hear you praying with your words all the time. Maybe you should pray with your eyes. So, the woman began to visualize, little by little, this man. She would describe him to the lady. And the lady would laugh with so much joy because she could see him too as the woman had gotten very good at pretending. She pretended him so well that she wasn’t lonely for him. She wasn’t lonely at all. She was very happy.

Well, a day came when the lady had to move away to an even smaller town. Luckily, it had a coffee shop. The woman and the lady were happy about that and only a little sad about departing because their friendship was so strong that they knew they’d never really be apart. A few weeks later, while the lady was having coffee in her new coffee shop, she got a phone call from the woman. He‘s here, she said. He had walked into the coffee shop right under the sign that said: God Is Love. The woman told the lady, He is everything I imagined he’d be. The lady came and visited the coffee shop to see for herself. The lady thought he was clearly as great as any cup of coffee the woman had ever made. Soon there after, there was a wedding celebration…and, of course, a happy ending!


Getting High On Haiku

They stood in the sand
he drew a very deep line
she drew pretty hearts.

Letting Go:
She had lost her thought
in the rhythm of the music
but found both her feet.

All Along:
Silent, infinite
wisdom will guide him towards her
in dreams, through visions.

We weep with your pain
collecting tears and pennies
offerings from the heart.

On Writing:
With the swoosh of pen
her blood turns from red to black
blank page, now, a mirror.

His Reflection:
Of all that he'd seen
twisting, turning out of life
she was most vivid.

She decided to sit
write something so very clever
now, what would that be?

A Poem:
Tapping on the keys
fingers dancing right along
to her joyful thoughts.

Defined as demands
she desired so little
but to be inspired.

She stirs quietly
giving thoughts to new thinking
brewing in her head.

Hope Arrives:
Leaves of dark thoughts scatter
against the warm tempest winds
stirred by her faith.

Throughout the night air
the bells tolled of the hour
she refused to hear.

Peaceful Offering:
In this coldest snow
icicle adorned branches
bowed their warm hellos.

She is practicing
simple words, simple meanings
in a complex world.

A Confession:
My haiku structure
random at the very best
we'll not speak of least.

That Old Us:
Where in time is it
the forgotten memories
of our blissful youth?

She & He:
Just spinning along
tripping through the Universe
their two worlds collide.

Open Books:
She could read their souls
through the very words they used
and knew they were pure.


Exercising My Rites

I miss my Yoga and my Nia groups. Being with others who are seeking peace and balance with their ultimate dance partner -- Source Energy/God in and around them -- is a spiritual high. Here, that energy is confined to pews. With love and concern, many are motivated to extend to me invitations to sit down in what I consider rather uncomfortable seating. I decline citing I wiggle too much.

Anyway, without hesitation, I know there is not one single yoga class with in 100 miles. People don't believe me when I say I'm lost in the middle of Nowhere. And people don't believe me when I say I found myself here. I'd be a full blown paradox if I didn't love traveling so much. I'm modestly self-taught in a few areas because 1) it's fun to discover what you can do 2) early on, I was too broke to pay for any instruction 3) I bore easily and must stimulate my brain...often...and, I know, if I would focus better I could probably drop the 'modestly' part.

Recently, like a lighting bolt, a very strong thought dived out of an unknown synaptic place in me. I didn't hear voices just felt the loud thunderous quiver that followed. The thought: Transmute your procreative energy into a higher vibration. Huh? Oh! Wait...The 6th Tibetan Rite. Now, I'm not even professing to do 1, 2, 3, 4 or 5 well...but I am focusing...and these days, I tend to follow my own weather patterns which are forecasting a good outcome. Researching it, I've been warned of it's power -- this saucy 6th sacrament. I took the warning as good news coming straight from the Anchorman in the Sky. Why do it if it's not going to empower you?

Here's to Higher Love.


Thanks From Bridge of the Gods

...and a few Goddesses.

I am meditating on a continued connection with the Divine over the next several weeks. Soon, I'm scheduled to sign my life back over to me. It seems an odd way to put anyone's life into context. But that's how it's done. I feel blessed that my life has taken on a new way of being. I often speak of expansion...of extending and growing in directions that beckon us to follow our bliss, (love to you, Campbell, wherever you are) yet, I can't help feeling the bitter sweetness in the natural disconnection that will result in this reclaiming. But I know, in any direction, I can offer up my love and appreciation to those who have supported my quest for authenticity. And I do. To you friends (even if you never read this), my beautiful bridges connecting me to hope, faith and Self-love, travels my deepest gratitude.


Social Nutworking

I'm clickin'lly insane. That's my unprofessional opinion that I've not had diagnosis by the medical world...yet. I'm beating myself up over all the time I've cheated myself out of being on-line lately. My illness began benignly with a screenwriting group a few years ago. I joined, gathered information, and made a few contacts. Later, a few of those contacts and I would create another group aptly named Procrastination. We became great friends. It was 'like vibration' merging with 'same'. We still hook up in L.A. every now and again. However, one of my vices kicked in: Boredom. I could feel myself needing to expand. I decided to take my photography more seriously than I had before and joined a very popular photo-sharing site. There I made many fun contacts. Again, out of those came a couple of, what seems to be, lasting friendships. Then my child wanted to join the notorious hook-up space on the web. I had been opposed to this for some time. Finally, I told them I'd join but they'd have to be my friend. They dealt with it well. I'm such a good mother. Anyway, while on there I rediscovered my love of music. Not just others' music but my love of making music. I've had only a voice to work with and years lay between my last collaboration. Now, I'm strummin' a guitar a little more coherently. Expanding, again. Thanks to my muse's space, I met more wonderful friends and was drawn full-circle back into the writing that I had abandoned for landscapes and portraiture. Managing to continue my photography, I am actually calling myself a professional. For some reason, people give you money when you do that. So, here I am. I'm writing well (in my mind), I have a musical collaborator (who's good), I'm taking on photography gigs (love that) BUT I'm spending too much time on-line socializing. Seriously, I've practically written a book in comments on Facebook where, btw, more than 95% of my "friends" have actually manifested physically somewhere in my time-line! Even so, I don't open the chat window much anymore. I'm worried that would be falling into the abyss. And I don't like to worry. And I certainly don't like falling. My real-life friend, who is not a licensed anything, lovingly diagnosed me as an Escape Artist.

$%&#, I think she's right. Well, I'm off to re-hab...


Penny Lover

If I find a penny 'heads up', I'll take it home with me. If not, I turn it to Abraham and leave it there for someone else to find. I have been gathering pennies for sometime now. Only since discovering this path I'm on have I decided to leave a few behind in this way. I have a friend who is concerned that when They Who Make Pennies begin to call my copper covered coins home to the land where 8-track players and the Pinto dwell, that I'll be at a loss. I tend to think it will be even more magical to find them. Even in their abundance, I find them in the strangest places. A couple of creative findings were this handmade wooden bowl and a pair of flip-flops with the penny embedded in the sole of the shoe. One cent was found glued under a chair with some Bubblicious. Abe was staring at me. I had to take it. Sometimes I'll find them when I'm focusing on something that might not be serving me. They are my real Heads Up! I've learned to turn my thoughts on a penny saving 9 cents on the dime. Can you see why I love them? Do you see why I don't walk on by?


I'm Thinking*

So, I'm supposed to be updating my resume. No. Updating is too strong a word. I'm in the middle of embellishing. No. Wait. Not embellish, that sounds like I'm lying. I'm in the midst of acknowledging that I have NO idea what to put on this blank screen. Well, not this one but the one that's minimized. I feel minimized. I am a Full-Time Mom. Is it not the most honorable job on the planet? The most noble of callings disguised as labor? And, I won't be the first to write, the most under-rated of employments? What saves me? The enjoyments. Gratitude going to my beloved children. But they think it's time I got a bit of a life so that I will stay out of theirs a little bit more. I'm not offended as long as they continue to tune into me...give me hugs, give me kisses. You know, acknowledge my existence every now and again. They're loving, well-adjusted and...a little bossy. It seems the sweet little peaches did fall too far from the matriarchal tree. Anyway, I have a job offer. It came upon the heels of the production of a couple of plays I wrote. I thought: It might be nice to teach writing to college students. I did my whole Law of Attraction meditative fun stuff but forgot to omit written assignments in the guise of this is just a formality from my vibration. I hate when I do that. Ironically, the only writing assignment I'll be required to submit already feels like a D...for Damn. But I've decided that the Universe is forcing me to take a closer look at myself. I tend to be self-effacing. I admire someone who can really stand up for themselves and tell the world how wonderful they are. Is that not what a resume essentially is all about? I sense I'm going to be up for awhile. Though Monday isn't a definitive deadline, it would be nice of me to get this thing handed in to the Professing Powers-That-Be...who want to know something of me...that I want so much to sound amazing...

*I'm really just procrastinating.


The Renovation Resolution

There is nothing for you to go back and live over, or fix, or feel regret about now. Every part of your life has unfolded just right. And so - now - knowing all that you know from where you now stand, now what do you want? The answers are now coming forth to you. Go forth in joy, and get on with it. Abraham-Hicks

Sometimes a person's life can be summoned up in a photograph. This picture pretty much sums up mine over the last year. Sometimes a person can be caring for so many that they forget to take care of themselves. The paint starts peeling, the doors start squeaking and the roof starts caving in here and there. In my mind, there is only one solution: The Renovation Resolution. I resolve to rethink, remind, recommit to rebuilding the areas of my life that I've neglected that have anything to do with me.

This New Year, I Renew.