Letters to my Son

Dear Son,
“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.” Louis L'Amour
Each time I look at you I see an incredible person … you are just a boy but you are growing in so many ways. Part of me would like to keep you as that little toddler who would ask me if I wanted to have coffee, even that cute grade school kid who could make anything from Legos. But I can’t, you have to continue to grow and really, I think you are going to be something special. Each time I look at you I learn something new, I see a new beginning. I think … no, I know how important it is for me to remember how fate works in ones life. The only way I could been your Mom was to take an adventure and let it unfold. Your spirit was waiting for me in New Mexico and maybe, just maybe, that is why I feel so connected to that place. I became a better person there and I know son, I’m a better person because of you. I also think that everything has happened exactly the way it was meant to happen even my parenting you alone. Even though it’s just been the two of us, you must always remember that it was two people that made that waiting spirit come alive and however you end up of viewing that as an adult, I did what was right for you.
Love always,
Mom

Centering Hint by Tom Crum

I read this early this morning and it has stuck with me. Live to our higher selves ... yes it can be done! Today, write a 'Love Letter' to someone AND to yourself.

Love Notes by Thomas Crum; November 2010 Recently my wife Cathy shared a poignant story from her youth: In 6th grade I confided to a girlfriend that I had a crush on a boy named Steve. The next day, she presented me with a note that said "I love you" which she told me Steve wrote for her to deliver to me. There was no reason for me not to believe her, and I was happy for weeks. Once I found out that she was the one who wrote the note, I was miserable for weeks. Steve, of course, never had a clue that any of this happened at all! The relationship between our perceptions, our resulting feelings, and our ability to perform is profound. During the Magic of Skiing, I remark to Susan how flowing and free her skiing is - how energetic and confident in her turns, how joyful she appears lately. She responds that one of the other pros had just said the same thing - she had overheard him bragging about her to someone at breakfast. Later, I ask the pro about it. "Oh," he replies, "I wasn't talking about THAT Susan. It was someone from another session." So what is the truth about Susan and her skiing? Believing in the "love letter", Susan was feeling good, and she was expressing it in her ski turns. Susan and her skiing are not stilted nouns, absolute, definable, stuck. They are action phrases like verbs, vulnerable to an ever-changing world of perception. Susan was feeling and skiing great because she had turned her mindset into higher possibility. She was skiing from that possibility rather than from some fixed past belief about herself. True, her mindset was brought on by quirky happenstance, like Cathy's fraudulent love letter, but self-aware people can use all of life's uncertainties as opportunities to laugh and learn. How do we want to tune up our mindsets? Can we stoke our imaginations to inspire us to greater heights? Can we ski (or live) as if we've just received a tender declaration of love? Tom Crum "Imagination is ... the preview of life's coming attractions." -Albert Einstein

Letters to my son

Dear Son,
I’ve been thinking about buying a journal where I can write to you. Then I thought about using my blog to do that because it will be (hopefully) still there when I am gone. I’ve written journals before. I’m sure you’ll find them someday. I’m not much good at writing for the public anyway. And there is so much I want to tell you and I’m afraid I won’t remember everything or I’ll be caught up in some other event that causes me to not tell you all the things I want you to know. So really, you don’t have to know them at all, it’s not like you have to study this and take a test. Take what makes sense to you and keep it in your heart, pass other things on if you want, discard what doesn’t resonate with who you are. Be who you are … maybe that’s what all this is about. I want you to be the person you are meant to be not a clone of me or anyone else.
You know, it’s a bit chilly today. We are living in New York now. I had wanted to move back to New Mexico from South Carolina and had everything planned to do so, right up to three days before the moving van was to arrive. Then the company that served me so well exploded, the investors pulled out, there was no money to pay anyone and I was left with no work. I made the split second decision to turn the truck around and head to New York where we have family. Thankfully, the owner of the moving company is an old friend from high school.
After arriving here, I was so unhappy that I could not be where I wanted to be. Others, in their way, wanted to advise and guide and know and insist which caused more unhappiness. That manifested itself as sadness, seclusion from others and sometimes arguments with the very people who meant well. Part of that is because I am happy to run my own life. I can’t abide trying to live like someone else just ‘cause they think it’s best for me. You can only do what your heart and mind tells you is best for you. Nothing good ever comes of wearing someone else's boots. I’ve always been my own person and I hope you will be too.
There’s a lot that my family doesn’t know about me and perhaps I like it that way. Some because I’ve lived away from them since I graduated college, going on 30 years now. Maybe that’s what causes the divide. There’s also a lot they don’t know because they chose not to know and because their egos can be as big as a harvest moon. There was a time when I wanted them to know everything about me but that stopped when I was around the age you are now. That event helped to mold the person I became but that is not important to anyone but me, nor can I define it as either good or bad, it just is. I know it drives you a bit mad when I do not buy into their perspective but there is much you do not know nor do you need to know now, maybe in time.
For the first time in my life son, I’m struggling. Some would say I’ve struggled through two divorces and some hard financial times but really that is nothing compared to this struggle. I’ve always bounced back, been resilient. I’ve been proud of those qualities and they have served me well. This struggle though … this is my struggle to strike a balance between what is the right for you and what is right for me. I’m sure it will be a while before I figure the lay of the land and probably will pen many more letters to my son. You’re all I’ve got boy. Chances are you won’t read these letters until you are much older and maybe you’ll never read them at all.
I do the best I can as a parent alone and I’m proud of the man you are becoming. I think I’ve done a pretty good job. Then again, I’m sure God saw I was going to be alone so I was given a very special person … you. Keep on doing your best, look up at the stars and visualize your dreams, see them, touch them in your mind and make them your reality. When I was a teenager I came across a poem that I had printed up, framed and put on my wall. Over the years and with many moves, that print has been long lost but not the poem by Rudyard Kipling.

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: 'Hold on!'

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
' Or walk with Kings - nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man, my son!

You know son, ideas, thoughts and philosophies held for many years by people can change over time. Perhaps they just evolve. The ideas held in Kipling's poem have never changed for me but many other thoughts have. The first part of my life was certainly different from the second part and both of those appear to be different than what this new stage of my life will be like. The way I think is changing some and I guess that’s OK. However, my world view is essentially the same. I don’t think that ever changes. What you think is perfect now for you may not be in 5 or 10 years but the convictions you have … your world view will always be your own. Go with the flow son, don’t fight change, evolve but evolve with conviction. Henry David Thoreau said, “If a man loses pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured, or far away.”
There is still a lot of music in my heart … I have so much more to give and I have more to say but I’ll stop here for now. Just know at this moment in time I am overflowing with love and pride for you…that funny, sweet kid of mine.
Love ya’
Mom

Image via Wikipedia

"If humanity does not opt for integrity we are through completely. It is absolutely touch and go. Each one of us could make the difference."

~ R. Buckminster Fuller

Jean Johnson; Food can't get any better

Courtesy of Jean's website

When I find value in a product or a service, an idea or a person, I like to share it with others. Maybe it’s because I’ve been in sales, marketing and public relations for so many years that it is just natural for me to pick up on something and automatically promote it. Of course, I personally have to find the value in the product or service, idea or person before I will take the time to “share”.

Over the last several months I’ve come to know Jean Johnson. She is a food historian, a proponent of sustainability, an author and a pretty cool lady. She has written two cookbooks and has one on its way. As an author I love her style and she is definitely the real deal when it comes to food history and sustainability issues. She shares her thoughts on treating the food nicely and that means honoring the animals that give their lives for our consumption and not poisoning your veg with GMO’s and pesticides.

Courtesy of Jean's website

Her recipes make for some mighty wonderful tasting meals and you get the added benefit of learning a philosophy about food, eating and sustainability that will change the way you think about nourishment. Her books include interesting food facts and quips. She shares her life experiences and her love of music as if you were a dear friend and her books will become your kitchen companion. Who thought the reading of a cookbook could be fun and enjoyable!?!

Courtesy of Jean's website

I bought her Hippie Kitchen cookbook, the first in her trilogy of cookbooks which include Cooking Beyond Measure and Grow Your Own: From the Garden to the Table which is due out in 2011. I’ve poured over Hippie Kitchen and found everything to my liking … I bet you will too! Now that Jean’s publisher is allowing her to offer no shipping charges on ‘signed’ copies through December, it’s a perfect time to start planning for holiday time presents. I recommend her work and her books … I hope you’ll have a look at them and see for yourself.

Connect with Jean on Facebook, watch her YouTube videos, and follow her on Twitter.

Turn off the music player at the bottom of this page to listen to Jean in her video::

Goin' for wood

Image by GodsMoon via Flickr

I love autumn. It’s a time of getting ready for a much quieter season. In that place that I lived it was a time to ‘Go for wood’. Without the wood there would be no way to warm your home come winter. So, this was an event, a coming together of family for one purpose; to make sure everyone had enough wood for the winter and then some. Along with all the other chores of this season, the harvesting, the putting up of canned goods, the brandings and filling the barns with usable hay, going for wood stood out in my mind because it was one of the more physically demanding chores that I participated in.

On the appointed day, coolers were filled with canned lunch foods, jerky and plenty of water. Pickup trucks were readied; chain saws were loaded along with sharpened axes. The ride up the mountain along roads that weren’t really roads was always a treacherous and challenging time but when you reached the top you were rewarded with a sight to behold. A view of the land for miles and miles, with crisp, clean cool air that invigorated you and made you bless the day.

The work begins and the sound of the chain saw echoes through the trees and the only sense of any other person is the sound of the same far off in the distance. As the sun finds its place high in the sky, jackets and shirts come off as sweat drips and dirty hands grab rags to wipe brows. Someone saws the trees, someone splits the wood, and someone picks up the kindling. The city girl in me had to be taught what real kindling was and how much was needed. That same girl had to learn how to split the wood so it would stack in the pickup and eventually fit into the wood stove.

Once the truck was full, it was time to eat and rest before the trek down the mountain began. Sometimes, after some rest, we’d look for pinon nuts that could be harvested. It was on once such trip that I learned how to harvest tremintina sap which could be used for everything from simple glue to a temporary wound covering. Not a bad thing to know about.

With the truck heavy now, it would be slow going on the roads that weren’t really roads. Mostly they were shale, rock, and some dirt that stretched around drops and holes and crags and ridges where shifting sand changes the terrain with each travel through. The work is not done when the truck pulls round the back of the home to where a wood shed sits far enough to keep animals who like to hang around wood piles away from the home but close enough to get wood to bring in when the air bites with cold and snow. It’s just as much work to empty the truck with one person climbing up and throwing the wood down and just as much picking it up to stack the pieces by size inside the covering. The worth of all this effort is in the cozy comfort of a pinon wood warmed home where a sense of security fights off the blistering cold just beyond the walls.

Footprints

Image by JWSherman via Flickr

Sometimes we meet a person who leaves a footprint in our life. Sometimes, if we love them, we just have to let them go.

A different way of things ...

Image by The Library of Congress via Flickr

The sadness had mostly passed. The people in the line had paid their respects in the days and nights before. The men had gathered and held vigil with the box all night long praying long prayers and taking turns napping at the back of the little church. All that was left was for the box to be put low. So on that sun bright and cloudless morning a line of trucks proceeded out to the family cemetery.

The box didn’t have the honor of a fancy car to keep it secure or lend an air of dignity; it only had the bed of a family member’s truck to rest on. A bed too short for the pine to settle comfortably so it shouldn’t have been a shock when the box slid back on that last bump causing the line to stop short and the people following to gasp and grab their mouths. As if it were an everyday occurrence, the boys got down from the truck and lifted the box back into place. It was a different way of things.

The box arrived at the place where it would finally rest. The trucks from the line flooded the small dirt road, causing dust to rise. The men got down from their high seated trucks and crowded a small area where they began the task of digging in the dirt. Under the high sun, their shirts got stained with dust and sweat. Some cussed under their breath. When they had dug enough it was the son that jumped down into the depth of its six feet or so. Perhaps it was to check it was dug right or maybe, he just wanted to see how it felt. The wind picked up just then and the trees rustled their leaves. As the son climbed out and dusted his hands and pants, he motioned to the men it was time. With ropes wrapped around, they surrounded the box, lifted and lowered it down, then pulled hard to bring their ropes back up. Those were ropes needed for all manner of things life brings and couldn’t be wasted.

The woman stood around noticing the other woman, noticing the first wife, the other children. Except for the very old vieja who just leaned against the fence and prayed, there was nothing somber about this event. The men still sweating returned the dirt from where it came, taking turns as the day was getting hotter.

There was nothing more, it was over. Just a wooden box and a hand dug grave.

One by one, they all found their way to a small barn nearby where some woman had set up pots of beans and tortillas, shredded pork, trays of pineapple cake and brownies, Kool-Aid, coffee and beer, lots and lots of beer. Then as if day turned into night, then day again, all was new and what had been was faded into memory.

The coyotes song ...

Image by jimmywayne via Flickr

In the shadow of a mountain, I learned to respect what is plain to this world, the land, the weather and the wildlife. It’s hard to even believe as I sit here just 23 miles north of New York City that I was ever dug down in the canyon, work clothes and boots under the high sun. What I remember most vividly is the cattle coming down the road pretty fast and O flying across the pasture on his bay. My heart beat faster than I knew it could. It was the first time I had seen such a sight being just a transplanted city gal. I ran as fast as I could to get back to the house, over the fence without a care for my being, just wanting to get out of the way.

When I first went to that place, I didn’t really know what to expect. I didn’t know that I would have so much learning to do, about life, about myself. I thought I knew it all, after all I had been around the block a few times and finding myself in the high country of New Mexico was a choice. But learn I did and now I hold those lessons dear as I look back and wait for the moment when I can return.

I learned to wave at every truck that came down the road ‘cause that’s what you did and ‘cause your neighbors were important people. I learned it was too far to town to forget something at the market. I learned which wild weeds and herbs were valuable, what could be used in teas and cooking. Incredibly, I learned how to pull sap from a pinon tree. I learned it was called tremintina and that it had more uses than you could imagine. I learned how hard it could be to keep up with a quarter acre garden. Just wasn’t as easy or as pretty as Martha Stewart said it would be. But food grew and I learned how to put up for the winter and share with the ranch ladies nearby.

In giving, I did some receiving. I was taught how to make fresh tortillas from scratch and how to cook a pot of beans to perfection. I learned how to roast chili and preserve it till the next harvest.

I learned that you don’t mess around when the sky looks fierce, better to head on in or run the risk of being stuck in mud. I learned that chopping wood is back breaking work but worth it to heat your home. The warmth that a wood stove gives is like being wrapped in a security blanket.

I learned that some things in life are free, like the Christmas tree you cut from your property or the snack you have right from the apple tree down the road. The best thing that was free was the view, the beautiful mountains, the horses running in the pasture, the sunsets over the mountain, the way the dark just slipped down the canyon, the stars in a completely black sky and the song of the coyotes at night.

Being in that place was purposeful and even though I sometimes felt isolated and often longed for the lights and the doings in the city, it was good for me. I remember that place fondly and on most nights if I listen hard enough, I can hear the coyotes sing.

Start doing things you Love!!!

I came across this great poster today compliments of a Facebook friend. It really does say it all!

Five reasons to be in Albuquerque now! But there are more...

Image via Wikipedia

1. The Sandia Mountains – In Spanish, ‘sandia’ is the word for watermelon. The mountains were named as such for the beautiful pink cast at sunset. Sitting just east of Albuquerque, the Sandia’s are a directional guide for anyone driving. Find yourself facing east at sunset in the city and behold a site you won’t forget.

2. Green Chili – you haven’t eaten until you’ve added a healthy dose of green chili to your meal. Its perfect heat is a wonderful accompaniment to many meals. If you are in NM in the fall, you’ll enjoy the smell of green Chili roasting throughout the land. Mmmm!!! Green chili on eggs, on burgers … for breakfast, lunch and dinner!

3. Albuquerque Little Theatre – A delightful cast of characters with talent worthy of the finest theaters performing such classics as ‘James and the Giant Peach’ and upcoming ‘Chicago the Musical’.

4. NM State Fair – Featuring the PRCA Rodeo Concert series with great musical acts like Mark Chestnut, Tracy Lawrence and Clay walker. Every year a new state fair Queen is chosen, the rodeo brings out the Cowboy and Cowgirl in everyone and it’s the real deal with a Grand Entry, Bareback Riding, Steer Wrestling, Saddle Bronc Riding, Tie-Down Roping, Barrel Racing and Bull Riding. You can’t pass up the fun to be had on the Midway and the cultural shows in the Indian Village and Spanish village. Boys and girls show off their hard work at 4-H and a good time is had by all. This year the fair is September 10 ~ 26.

5. International Balloon Festival – There is nothing better than waking up early on a cool October morning to colorful balloons floating by as you relax with a hot cup of NM Roasted coffee . This year the Festival is October 2 ~ 10.

Source: Wikipedia

Beautiful Blankets and Bedding ... Made in the USA

This is my current collection of Pendleton Blankets. The best, warmest and coziest blankets you'll find anywhere ... and all Made in the USA. I love the bright colors and design.

This is the blanket that I would like to get next. This Red, Cream and Black Navajo Water Blanket is just beautiful. I'd like to feature it as a wall hanging because to my eye, it's a piece of art.

I'm also interested in this beautiful Grey San Miguel Blanket Collection. The grey, red and white colors would be so nice in a bedroom ... the dark colors lend themselves well, I think, to a male room. Perhaps it might be nice for Beachwalker Boy's bedroom.

All pictures featured excluding the picture of my pesonal collection are the property of Pendleton Wollen Mills

Bird Crossing by the Hudson!

A bird crossing and a lovely view for sure!!

Live life, Love life … Hug your babies

Image by ashhayes03 via Flickr

It was a report on the television and a posting on a blog where I learned of two separate incidences where people lost their lives in senseless accidents. In a flash, they’re gone!

It made me start to think of how important it is to live each day to its fullest because, well, you just never know what is down the road waiting. I thought of Tim McGraw’s hit song a few years back ‘Live Like You Were Dying’ and I went looking for ‘Boy’ to give him a big hug and tell him why he’s so important and so loved.

People just trudge through life sometimes, forgetting that each day could be cherished. I do it sometimes … though I try to always count my blessings and be grateful for everything and every person in my life. I know it’s important to offer some kind words everyday because I know they have a reciprocal effect and I know that sometimes just a nod says everything. But most of all, I know I have to live my hearts desires and climb my personal mountains, working on them each day, not ever being afraid to reach the top.

So, I continue to believe it is OK to walk in the rain without an umbrella. I continue to hug my ‘Boy’ at a whim and I remember to include all who have walked a trail with me in my prayers. And my favorite piece of advice for everyone is sometimes you should eat your desert first! Whatever desert that might be.

Image via Wikipedia"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
- Mark Twain

What do you dream about doing one day? What's stopping you from doing it now?

Dear Diary

I went for a long walk this morning and remembered the journey is always different on a paved road than on a dirt road.

Theres's no road in between!

Scoot 66 photo

A day at the Renaissance Faire

Last weekend, my sister (I'll call her Beach Walker Sis), my dear Beachwalker Boy and I went to the NY Renaissance Faire. It was the first time I had gone since I was just a college student quite some time ago. I learned, as we were driving there, that my sister's husband thought I was going to show up dressed in character. It's been a while since I've been that bold but then I hadn't seen my brother-in-law in a long time and I guess he still had pre-conceived notions of my behavior. Hmmmm! Could have been fun had I thought about it but then had I done so, I’m sure “Boy” would have died a thousand deaths.

It was a perfect day. There was a cool breeze that was definitely welcome after the heat wave that had recently occupied the days and there was a bit of cloud cover. It made for a delightful time walking around the faire because in upstate NY, it can get pretty dang hot and humid. I don’t care for NY weather but that’s a story for another day.

So what’s a Renaissance Faire without a Joust Tournament! The joust is my favorite part and I’ll admit I do enjoy keeping an eye on the normally handsome men riding full speed at each other

We raised our voices to cheer Sir Scarlett and waved our flags high but alas Scarlett let us down and Sir Ivanhoe stood in victory. It was great tournament and at the end, all of the characters paraded through the courtyard in their finery and the children were invited into the yard to be knighted by the Queen. Needless to say, that was beneath my dear tween, Beachwalker Boy but I’m sure he’ll be someone’s Knight in Shining Armor one day, no need to rush.

Hearts Home

Image by srharris via Flickr

It was just a decree and a gavel, the possibilities endless, and the open road in front of me. No plan, just the butterflies in my stomach. Coming down nine mile hill, the lights of the city shown bright and I felt the promise that it was my life, part two. I had left the east, the place of my youth with all its pomp and tradition, my white house and my cats, morning coffee on the beach and the man of my youth.

Found myself riding into that beautifully enchanted place. So easy it was, to fall in love with the land, the people, the wide open space and the freedom to create with abandon. Slowly, my world happened, and each night I stared up at the mountain glowing pink with a wish for all that was good. It brought me good friends who are forever, new love that couldn’t stay and a child who will always be my true life inspiration.

But once again, on the wrong side of the country, with all its pomp and tradition, no white house or cats, no mornings on the beach and no man to fill my time. Where my heart calls out, it’s time to go home … to that spirited place, where the people hold rein on my heart, to the wide open land, where the freedom to create with abandon lives and start my life, part three.

Boots and Pearls

Picture from Buckaroogirl

So, I've just found this album which I just love. This gals voice is really wonderful, strong and sassy and her poetry is brilliant.

Listen to some of the music. Check out this video interview from Western Horseman If you are of a same mind as me, you will enjoy. Her first album is Highway 80 ...

Tony Stromberg

Tony Stromberg Photography

For my eyes, some of the most beautiful photography is of horses in a natural settings. Horses conjure images of the old west, of a sense of living free ... joyous movement, a connection to earth and to spirit. Why is that? Is it because of the stories of our youth, those old western movies and story books or is it much deeper. Perhaps a quiet connection we all have to these beings who are so innocent in nature.

Tony Stromberg creates such beautiful photos and his book, "The Forgotten Horses" is precious. It's a document dedicated to the horses unwanted but who were lucky enough to get a second chance.

Tony has three books out!

I am not a rider, I don't own a horse but I am fascinated by these beautiful animals. I could watch them for hours in their own natural settings and in show. I'm impressed by riders and the connections they have with their horse. I'm amazed by the relationships horses choose to have or not ... with each other and with humans. They are bright intelligent and loving animals and I have found that the people who ride are truly extraordinary in their own way.

Tony's book captures the beauty that would have been lost if these horses were not rescued. I'm always pleased to hear that people care enough to become involved with these beautiful animals and often work in the rescue of unwanted, abused or neglected horses. I know quite a few who are passionate about rescuing and I'm proud to know them. One of the organizations that does great work is Habitat for Horses. They are a non-profit working with law enforcement in rescue cases and serve as a awareness center but their story is for another day.