FLOW

2011-06-27T10:12:00.000-07:00

"Art is the only way to run away without leaving home."
— Twyla Tharp

2011-03-10T15:49:00.000-08:00

Inspiration on Wheels

2011-03-10T09:57:00.000-08:00

"If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change." -Wayne Dyer

Listening to Wayne Dyer on CD in the car has changed the way I look at driving. I usually hate driving (unless I'm on a road trip), but now I look forward to getting in the car and hearing little nuggets of inspiration and brain training from Dr. Wayne. This is the 6 CD box set I'm listening to. Highly recommended!

Need your own copy for the car? Buy it here.

Me + The Universe

2010-11-20T12:00:00.000-08:00

I read a cool comment on someone's Facebook page the other day about lists. I am a little obsessed with lists;) Here it is: every time you make a "to do" list, make two columns. One column is "To do: Me" and the other is "To do: Universe." Make the "Me" column short and do-able. Put everything else in the universe column. See what happens!

p.s. I think it was T's friend who posted this. What is the name of the book it came from?

What are you reading?

2010-11-15T07:12:00.000-08:00

I'm reading The Heart is a Lonley Hunter by Carson McCullers. So excited to have access to public libraries again after so long in Puerto Rico without good books easily accessible!

"Life is One Big Road with Lots of Signs" ~B.M.

2010-05-27T10:32:00.000-07:00

The guy in front of me in line at the gas station last night had a cool T-shirt on. The back of it, in faded letters read: Yesterday is History, Tomorrow is a Mystery. Today's the Day!

Signs are everywhere. Keep your eyes and ears open.

New Home

2010-05-15T11:50:00.000-07:00

We just moved to a charming little apt. in a house that was built "circa 1840." It is one of the oldest homes in Oakwood -- a historic district in downtown Raleigh, NC.

What I've observed while walking the dog:

Lots of Obama stickers on cars, stained glass and bevelled windows, gas lamps, rosemary bushes-on-steroids in folks' front yards, potted ferns hanging on front porches, wrought iron fences, parents pulling their kids in wagons down the sidewalk and people walking their dogs. It is a beautiful neighborhood -- very children's storybook.

Click THIS LINK if you want to see some pics of Oakwood.

New Beginnings

2010-03-18T23:29:00.000-07:00

"Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly." -- Anon.

Fortune

2010-03-01T15:24:00.000-08:00

My dad's visiting me this week. This was my fortune in my fortune cookie today at the Chinese joint where we ate lunch: "Success is a journey, not a destination." Good to remember this!

Double Dip: The Daily Walk

2010-02-25T15:00:00.000-08:00

I've been walking the sea of housing "communities" where I am house/pet-sitting for a friend here in NC. One community spills into another and so on. Some days I take the little dog, E, and some days I go alone. I am amazed that even in a subdivision, one can commune with nature. I guess nature finds her way into all life's nooks and crannies in some form or another.

Here's what I've noticed in the last days:

1. Hawks soaring above the pines
2. Redbud trees with their first tight pink blossoms
3. Spring-like Birdsong (even though it snowed this a.m.)
4. A few dandelions in the grass
5. The splash of color a Cardinal provides in the grey of winter as it flies by
6. The shock of red berries on leafless bushes

RED GLASS VOTIVES

2010-02-25T06:28:00.000-08:00

My prose poem, RED GLASS VOTIVES, appears in the latest issue of Sentence: A Journal of Prose Poetics.

Here's the link if you want to buy a copy and support a small press, Firewheel Editions: http://firewheel-editions.org/

Double Dip: "Thank your Grandmother for a Good Example"

2010-02-23T18:40:00.000-08:00

OK, I'm manic. From no posts for weeks to two posts in one day. Couldn't resist sharing Dr. Mao's friendly video on prunes with y'all (I like saying y'all now that I live in the South). Enjoy!

Music to Your Movement

2010-02-23T08:02:00.000-08:00

Flow is what we all strive for, isn't it? Not always easy to achieve in our 'modern' world. The book I'm reading, "The 7 Systems of Balance: A Natural Prescription for Healthy Living in a Hectic World" by Paul J. Sorgi, M.D., cites the importance of movement in our quest toward balance and wellness. Not just exercise that makes your heart pound, but the movement of your body in flow. Apparently this kind of "rhythmic" activity helps brain processing, which in turn helps your nervous system. And helping one's nervous system is a good thing as it creates relaxation and deep rest. Which we all need, right? Right.

What constitutes rhythmic activity? According to Dr. Sorgi, "Rhythmic activity is any movement that causes you to move in a rhythm, with timing, with pace and with flow. It could be singing, tai chi, dance, skiing; or it could be working with your lathe, your router or your sewing machine. It could be writing letters, painting pictures or swimming. So long as there is a music to your movement, then it fits the definition of rhythmic movement."

What kind of rhythmic activities do you engage in? (I hope that doesn't sound too x-rated.) I know your answer, Marina -- cooking!

"One Goes in Straightforward Ways"

2010-02-12T07:56:00.000-08:00

"One Goes In Straightforward Ways"

1940

One goes in straightforward ways,
One in a circle roams:
Waits for a girl of his gone days,
Or for returning home.

But I do go -- and woe is there --
By a way nor straight, nor broad,
But into never and nowhere,
Like trains -- off the railroad.


Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, August, 2000
Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, February, 2001

"To Thine Own Self Be True" ~Shakespeare

2010-01-27T04:46:00.000-08:00

I am a morning person. What I accomplish in one hour before 10 a.m. takes me 5 hours (or gets eternally procrastinated) after 10 a.m.

That's why you haven't heard from me for a awhile. I've been wasting my precious morning hours away from my desk. But I'm back! I've been here at "the desk" since 5:15 a.m. with a candle burning, a cup of tea and lots of motivation.

Knowing oneself is the first step toward balance. While crucial, this first step doesn't do much for us, however, when we don't take the next step, or leap -- creating habits that fulfill our needs and cater to our strengths. Glad to be have landed here today.

Where have you landed today? Is it where you want to be? If yes, congratulations! Celebrate the small victory.

If not, think about one thing you might be able to change in your routine (or lack of it) today to fulfill your needs and/or cater to your strengths. If you don't know what your needs or strengths are, try free writing for 15 -20 minutes to find out. Good luck!

Haiti

2010-01-14T04:21:00.000-08:00

Woke up in the dark this morning thinking about all of the people trapped in the dark, under concrete slabs and rubble after the earthquake two days ago. It is unimaginable to me that there has been no significant professional search and rescue presence on the ground there yet. It is horrifying to see the footage on TV as friends and family members seek out loved ones in the rubble by following their cries, or following the flies. It is heartbreaking to realize that even if they do find people in the rubble alive, they do not have the tools or support to get them out safely or quickly most of the time. How is this kind of situation possible on earth?

I guess we just have to focus on what we can do to help -- pray (in whatever way is meaningful to us) , light candles, send money, clothes, food. Whatever we can.

A positive story from Anderson Cooper's blog:

But, amid the death, there are stories of survival. Anderson saw the frantic and successful work to free a 13-year-old girl, named Bea, from the wreckage of a building just about a block from the National Palace. She was trapped in the rubble since last night. They discovered her this morning and people just started digging, for hours, trying to get her out.

"You could see two of her feet. You could hear her crying out, and there was a lot of arguing about how to try to get her out. They were, literally, digging with their hands, and just an extraordinary moment, a few moments ago, they pulled her out. She's alive, she's well. Four members of her family are dead. They are piled up right outside the destroyed building that she was rescued from. But it's one small victory on a street that has seen so much misery, " Anderson said.

~~~

Tried to find a picture or video of this story. I saw it on CNN last night. Does anyone have a link to this?

Little Voice

2010-01-11T11:14:00.000-08:00

Everyone I talk to these days seems to have a plan for me -- where I should live, where I should work, etc. etc. Sometimes these plans, combined with my own internal chatter and doubts, become so noisy that the Little Voice of intuition is almost impossible to hear. One must listen closely.

As I work to create a life worthy of the quantum leap I took to get where I am today, I realize I must train myself to listen to the Little Voice. Why? Because she knows best! She is smarter than I am. She knows me better than I know myself. She has no ego and no vested interest in the choices I make. She knows what I'm best at and what makes me happy.

Little Voice? Talk to me. I'm listening.

Moving Forward

2010-01-10T05:42:00.000-08:00

I realize that all my recent post titles have been quoted from songs and things other people have said. Not very original for a poet, eh? This is a blog about creative wellness though, not literary genius, and sometimes, one needs to simply lean on the creativity and initiative of others and just keep moving forward.

Who/what has inspired you to move forward this week?

You Just Gotta Keep Pedaling

2010-01-09T18:40:00.000-08:00

I just read this quote in a local newspaper. The speaker, Selena Lauterer, was 8 at the time she uttered these words, in 1977. She had just learned how to ride a bike.

"Sometimes life is like learning to ride a bike -- you just gotta keep pedaling -- no matter what!"

When one door is closed...

2010-01-08T13:58:00.000-08:00

...many more will open. Right? Right. I know it's true, and I have a feeling great things are right around the corner for me, but I am a bit bummed after my first job interview. I thought it went well, but received a call several hours later that they had found someone "internally" for the position. Maybe they really did. Who knows?

It was a good learning experience, however, and I am proud of myself for landing an interview after only 3 days in the area. Must focus on the positive and get those mantras going for what I really want to do. What do I really want to do? I guess it's time to narrow the focus and perhaps do another vision board. I think when we really laser focus in on a specific thing/job/goal, we are more likely to get it than when we are focusing on a wide range of possibilities. Time to focus and manifest.

Just Do It!

2010-01-06T07:23:00.000-08:00

I am a planner and a list maker. My mother says I used to spend hours "sharpening my pencils" before actually getting down to doing homework when I was in grade school. Today, I am going to "just do it." Of course I can't go completely cold turkey -- I still need a list. This time it's a short list though, and only includes the top 3 items I've been procrastinating on and need to get OFF MY PLATE in order to make room for new things. 1. 2. 3. Here I go!

Keep the Channel Open

2010-01-05T11:10:00.000-08:00

I attended a poetry reading given by poet Cecilia Woloch the other day at the EKU MFA in Creative Writing Winter residency. After the reading, held at the "Downtown Hilton" in Lexington, Kentucky, someone in the audience asked Cecilia if she keeps a strict writing schedule. She answered that although a set schedule doesn't work for her, she makes sure to write every day. That way, she explained, if something is bubbling up in her subconscious that wants to be written, she is present, and able to access it. She called this "keeping the channel open," a phrase that comes from the following Martha Graham quote:

“There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open.”

This is my New Years' resolution: to keep the channel open. Whatever that might mean. It should be an interesting year!

Ramblin' Woman

2010-01-04T06:36:00.000-08:00

For the last week I've been making my way, slowly but surely, toward my new state of residence, North Carolina. Yesterday I made the trip southeast from Lexington, Kentucky down through Tennessee and into North Carolina. When I crossed the border into NC and saw the sign "Welcome to North Carolina" I was on a winding mountain road, the sky was blue, the air cold cold cold and the Allman Brothers song Ramblin' Man was blaring in my new ride. I must admit, I shed a tear of happiness. A perfect entry into a new leg of life and a new year. Lord I was born a ramblin' woman!

It's the little things...

2009-12-30T10:42:00.000-08:00

Over the years, I've watched my mother reach out to others in little ways -- helping old ladies across the street; saying thank you to the bus driver; asking someone how they're doing and caring to hear the real answer; inviting someone sitting alone at church on Christmas day over for Christmas dinner. I guess I've internalized a lot of these habits, but never really thought about what a difference these seemingly small gestures can make until now.

I am in the process of moving back to "the states" after close to a decade living in the Caribbean, and as a result, I found myself "alone" on Christmas. Even though I was invited to countless different celebrations with friends and family, they were all too far away to attend. At the last minute, I was invited to a lovely dinner that saved me from a depressing holiday, and I am grateful for the invitation. Thanks Laura!

And then today, another little angel arrived in the form of a Facebook message. A friend from another time in my life, who I'm not really in contact with, knew through Facebook that I am in the process of this big move and reached out. Here's her note:

I was thinking about you and how you must be having a hard time adjusting to States life from PR. I know I did!! My thoughts on moving and the metaphor I use:

Re-potting a plant. When you first re-pot a plant, it goes into shock. It droops, it looks really sad. But once the roots start to adjust to the new soil, it starts to grow again. And before you know it, it's flourishing.
You will flourish soon.

XOXO,

I thought it was so sweet of her to think of me and make the effort to send a little note. It's the little things that make a difference!

Old Friends

2009-12-29T07:56:00.000-08:00

So grateful to have spent the day after Christmas with my forever friends from college. Thank you to the Hopper family for making this the best Boxing Day celebration ever! Already planning the next reunion. I need to see much more of these people. Love you guys long time!

Dog Walking and Health

2009-12-16T13:56:00.000-08:00

This article just appeared in the New York Times. If you don't have a dog, or don't walk the one you have, you might want to consider a change.

Photo Credit: http://www.smalldogbigdogpictures.com/ "akbar 1947"

Thank you Charlie

2009-12-12T15:07:00.000-08:00

I am dog-sitting for my dad's elderly dog, Charlie, for the next few weeks. Charlie has a bum leg and arthritis. He needs to be helped up on to the bed at night (yes, he sleeps on the bed). But.....he reverts back to puppy mode on his daily walk. My dad's wife takes him out almost every day of the year, in warm weather and cold. I think that's why he's still alive. He loves getting out and has been pulling me through the neighborhood the last few days as if he were a pup. Once in a while he breaks into a trot and is smiling (you know that dog smile?) all the way.

Makes me think about how important exercise, and getting out and about, is for all of us. I am thankful for dogs for countless reasons, but today, I am thankful for Charlie, in particular, for getting me out into the cold crisp sunny day today to get the blood pumping and the mind focused on the simple and awesome beauty in nature -- red berries on bare brown branches, bare branches against a clear blue sky. Thanks Charlie!

A Forgotten Letter

2009-10-27T23:04:00.000-07:00

Here she is again, the lovely Marina-of-the-B-Line, our guest blogger. This piece is borrowed from her Ramblog on Facebook "Notes."

This year I lost both my parents and, as expected, I ramble a lot about them and about death. I do not necessarily share all these ramblings with you for I do not want to sadden you. The following story though may start as a sad one but as you will see, it has a happy ending.

When my sister Silvana told me Mom needed to have surgery, I booked a seat on the first plane to Paris. I knew I would be too late to comfort her before the operation but I would be there when she would wake up and as long as she knew that, it was all right. Unfortunately Mom never woke up.
The guilt I felt for not being there by her side made my mother’s death more difficult to accept. The death of a loved one is never an easy thing to accept but when guilt is part of the equation, it becomes insurmountable. I still had so many things to say to her and now it was too late. So I thought.

A few days after the funeral, Silvana and I sorted out our mother’s personal documents. I found about two dozen letters and notes that Mom had kept. She, unlike Dad, did not keep very much at all. Those were the announcements of my and Silvana’s births, of our children's births, a poem a friend had written for my parents’ 50th anniversary, a note written by Dad… Mom had saved in an envelope her dearest memories.

I then unfolded a letter and was surprised to recognize my own writing. It was a letter I had written at least 25 years earlier! So long ago, I had forgotten about it! In this letter, I thanked my parents for all the love they had given me and told them their love had made me a better person; it was some of that love I would share with my children, I wrote.

My mother, a woman who did not keep anything, had kept my letter! She already knew the very same words I thought I would never have a chance to say to her! Even if I had not written the letter, she would still have known all the love I had for her but the fact she had kept it for all those years showed how touched she had been by my letter and how happy it had made her feel.

I was sure she had read it many times. She might even have thought of it before the surgery, just in case something would go wrong. It was not as good as having me on her side and telling her “See you in a few hours Mom” but I was also certain it still brought her comfort.

My letter had brought her the same comfort it had brought me when I discovered it among her favorite memories. The comfort I needed to accept my mother's death.

Chocolate Mousse for Breakfast on the B-Line

2009-10-17T15:22:00.000-07:00

A guest post from Marina, Chef and Chief Rambler, Le Petit Cafe, Bloomington, Indiana.

Marina's window on the B-Line.

People often ask me if I intend to retire in Paris, where I came from. No! I ain’t going nowhere! I want to retire right here -preferably on the B-Line. Why on earth would I want to retire in a city filled with women who make a public show of eating plates laden with rich food in front of American tourists watching them in awe and wondering how they can do it twice a day and keep their figures?

They are lying through their teeth my friends! What you do not know is, while they pretend to absentmindedly eat their Steak au poivre avec frites, they are frantically calculating how many calories they are ingurgitating and for how many meals they will have to content themselves with an apple or a yogurt.

How do I know? I was one of these women! So, do yourself a favor: next time you go to Paris, ignore them! Pretend you could not care less and with time, they will stop teasing us.

No my friends, I want to retire in a place like the B-Line where people are not afraid to order chocolate mousse for breakfast and add, in an assertive and guilt-free tone of voice “And give me some of that hot chocolate with whipped cream to wash it down!”

"What Kept Me Alive Was My Dream..."

2009-10-06T10:40:00.000-07:00

Thank you for sharing this, Berly!

Video credit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMwpVF58c2c

Surgery Through Marina's Lens

2009-10-02T11:56:00.000-07:00

From Our Friday Guest Blogger, Marina, Chef and Chief Rambler at Le Petit Cafe, Bloomington, IN.

This past week, I have been rambling about the consequences of my husband’s surgery: today, Patrick’s tonsils and uvula will go. I usually do not publicly ramble about my private life but this surgery might have a certain impact on Le Petit Café’s routine: his doctor said it might affect Patrick’s nasal sounds. Nasal sounds, as you know, even if you have not studied French, are very much part of the French language.

Yesterday, while I was serving my delicious, abundant and reasonably priced Sunday lunch, I was making mental lists of all the changes we might have to bring to make Patrick feel more comfortable. For instance, I thought tables un, cinq, onze and quinze might have to be replaced with zero, quatre bis, dix bis and quatorze bis. Not the most convenient thing during a busy shift when efficient communication is so important but we should all make a few sacrifices to minimize Patrick’s nasal self-consciousness.

Patrick and I only speak French in the kitchen and this part worries me a bit more. He will, many times during a shift, have to say Encore du pain (more bread). Would it be reasonable to expect our customers to understand we no longer serve refills of bread or that they have to switch to crackers so Patrick’s ego does not repeatedly get bruised? True, our clientele has always risen to the occasion when asked to adapt to changes - and I have no doubt it would again- but perhaps the sensible thing to do would be to serve a huge basket of bread with the first course so they would not have to ask for more. This would actually be the ideal solution if it were not for my husband’s strong feelings against waste: he would not deal well with the potentially wasted rolls. Now, I could not possibly ask our clientele to accept Patrick’s unpleasantly nasal sounding nasty remarks about them not eating the 12 rolls of bread, could I? You see what I mean? Not easy to find a happy medium between Patrick’s ego and our clients’ priorities.

All these ideas, as smart as they are, do not seem very realistic. I then remembered we have a friend from Marseilles where nasal sounds seem to be different (it’s also possible this friend had his tonsils and uvula removed too). For instance, he does not pronounce the two consecutive nasal vowels in bonbon as in we do in Paris; it sounds more like bonne-bonne. To prevent ill-spirited clients (they are a few) from making fun of Patrick’s pronunciation, I thought I could tell them he is from Marseilles. I then imagined entire conversations about this:

- Where is your husband from? would they ask with a smirk. You do not sound the same!
- From Marseilles.

- Marseilles? Really? Why don’t you serve Bouillabaisse then? they would insist with a knowing smile (some people do not give up)

I got this part covered though and would thrust forward my coup de grace:

- We should but unfortunately we cannot find the right fish in Indiana for an authentic Bouillabaisse. (I showed them didn’t I?)

Not to end on an unpleasant note and to add an extra touch of credibility to my harmless fib, I would then conclude with a cheerful: “But try my aioli! That recipe has been in Patrick’s family for many generations.”

Now, this plan is not too unreasonable, is it?

After a while pondering over the difficulty of finding reasonably ethical solutions compatible with everybody’s well-being, I realized this nasal vowel unfriendly surgery might offer an interesting side (to me): Patrick may never be able to enunciate his too frequent and my less favorite answer: NON!

I then started to imagine new and wonderful dialogues:

- Patrick, can I buy a new car?

-          ...
-          Oui!?! Merci Cheri!
-          …! …! …!

I guess I worry too much: the French can do with a few less nasal sounds after all!

Ring The Bells That Still Can Ring

2009-09-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

Finally got around to tackling a challenging writing project this morning. I had been putting it off because it is unlike anything I have done before, and is for a client, and I didn't know where to begin. Paralyzed by perfectionism once again.

Once I started, I was still unsure of where to go with the project. So I started where I always start when I'm overwhelmed -- with a list. I didn't censor myself, I just wrote a long stream of words and phrases. The list inspired a direction and I was off! Pretty soon, I had a finished product which I thought would be a draft, but it turns out the client liked it as is. In fact, he was thrilled.

Getting over perfectionism and 'just doing it' reminds me of the phrase from the Leonard Cohen song, "Anthem."

Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.

Check out the complete lyrics of this song HERE.

Photo credit:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/manojvasanth/ / CC BY 2.0

Working From Home: How to Make it Work

2009-09-29T07:56:00.000-07:00

I mostly work from home, and lately, have been overdoing it on the computer. Too much time spent in the fluorescent glow of its screen and too few breaks. My brain has suffered and so have other areas of my life, including my home environment.

After taking a "time out" this weekend from work and the computer, I have come back refreshed. I am realizing how unhealthy it is to work for hours and hours on end without taking significant breaks.

So here's my new strategy: when I work from home (most of the time), I will work in short spurts of 30-50 minutes. In between each work session, I will get up for 5-20 minutes and clean something in the house or tidy up. I'm hoping this new strategy will keep my brain fresh and sharp and my house clean and tidy. I'll let you know what happens.

What You Focus on Expands

2009-09-27T07:30:00.000-07:00

I am reading a fabulous book by T. Harv Ecker called Secrets of a Millionaire Mind. It is not a get-rich-quick book, but rather a psychology book for folks who are making less money than they want to be making. It helps one examine how she came to create a certain financial "blueprint" that determines how much money she makes (and/or retains). T. Harv Ecker's theory is that each of our financial blueprints was created by what we learned at a young age about money, and its worth and value, from our families, cultures, and the media.

I could go on and on about how much I love this book. Its basic concepts and tenants can be applied to any area of one's life, not just money. But what I really wanted to share today is a challenge from T. Harv Ecker to not complain for one week. In his view, "complaining is the absolute worst possible thing you could do for your health or your wealth. The worst!" He believes in "the universal law that states, "What you focus on expands."

Perhaps you are not much of a complainer, or perhaps you are, but don't realize it. This week, I am going to pay close attention to my thoughts and words, and train myself to NOT COMPLAIN (even in my head). Are you up to the challenge as well?

Cache-Col: The Perfect Fall Accessory

2009-09-25T10:15:00.000-07:00

As the weather gets colder and the leaves start to fall, it's time to accessorize! This fall, you could be at the forefront of fashion creativity by sporting one of Marina's one-of-a-kind Cache-Cols. What is a Cache-Col and why do you need one? The pictures speak for themselves, but here is a little introduction by Marina, Chef and Chief Rambler at Le Petit Cafe in Bloomington, IN., and creator of the Cache-Col.

All these cache-cols were born in Marina's café. They are not just little scarves, they are a slice of one of her days and reflect the mood she was in when she knitted yours. A faint scent of herbs or spices might still linger on some of them too....
You might get a few imperfections ... If she is content and calm, the cache-col will be regularly knit, but if she is upset or worried, you will find a few mistakes here and there....Once in a while, a customer gives her a hard time and you will most likely find a little hole in it.

When you buy one of Marina's cache- cols, you get what you see: something not always terribly practical but always fun to wear... And they are like the cabbage-patch kids dolls: there are not 2 exactly alike!

Besides, Marina knits like she cooks: she does not knit something she would not want to wear herself.

Marina's cache-cols all cost $15 which includes the shipping fare. Belts are a little more.
Ask her about it at marinabfiore@gmail.com, on the phone at (812) 334 9747, in person at the Café or at the B-Line window!

Thank you for buying one or just looking...

Check out a few of Marina's creations below. Keep in mind that these are only a few examples of what she is capable of. There is a Cache-Col for everyone. To see more styles or learn more, contact Marina.

When All Else Fails, Reboot.

2009-09-23T12:14:00.000-07:00

I try not to pay too much attention to the fact that "Mercury is in Retrograde" at the moment, but it's hard to ignore.

Perhaps the problems I've been having of late with e-mail, cell phone and other communication vias are not planetary -- who knows? -- but I'm over them. Obstacles be gone!

List Poems

2009-09-22T07:36:00.000-07:00

A list poem is an inventory of people, places, ideas or things that often involves repetition.

List poems, also called catalogue poems, are fun to read and easy to write. Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg are famous for their list poems. Here is one by Allen Ginsberg:

HOWL

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn
looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly
connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat
up smoking in the supernatural darkness of
cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities
contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and
saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes
hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy
among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy &
publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear,
burning their money in wastebaskets and listening
to the Terror through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through
Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in
Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their
torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares,
alcohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and
lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson,
illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery
dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops,
storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon
blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree
vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn,
ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless
ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine
until the noise of wheels and children brought
them down shuddering mouth-wracked and
battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance
in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's
floated out and sat through the stale beer after
noon in desolate Fugazzi's, listening to the crack
of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to
pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping
down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills
off Empire State out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts
and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks
and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days
and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the
Synagogue cast on the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a
trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind-ings and
migraines of China under junk-with-drawal in Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the
railroad yard wondering where to go, and went,
leaving no broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing
through snow toward lonesome farms in grand-father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy
and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively
vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary
indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore
gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight street
light smalltown rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston
seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the
brilliant Spaniard to converse about America
and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving
behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees
and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the
F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist
eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting
the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union
Square weeping and undressing while the sirens
of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed
down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked
and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight
in policecars for committing no crime but their
own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were
dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly
motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim,
the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose
gardens and the grass of public parks and
cemeteries scattering their semen freely to
whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up
with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath
when the blond & naked angel came to pierce
them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate
the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar
the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb
and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but
sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden
threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of
beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along
the floor and down the hall and ended fainting
on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and
come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling
in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning
but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sun
rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad
stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these
poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver-joy
to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls
in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with
gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station
solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in
dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and
picked themselves up out of basements hung
over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third
Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on
the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the
East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment
cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime
blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall
be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested
the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their
pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the
bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned
with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded
by orange crates of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty
incantations which in the yellow morning were
stanzas of gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht
& tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot
for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks
fell on their heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique
stores where they thought they were growing
old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits
on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse
& the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments
of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the
fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the
drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten
into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley
ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of
the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes,
cried all over the street,
danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed
phonograph records of nostalgic European
1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and
threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans
in their ears and the blast of colossal steam whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying
to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude
watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out
if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had
a vision to find out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who
came back to Denver & waited in vain, who
watched over Denver & brooded & loned in
Denver and finally went away to find out the
Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying
for each other's salvation and light and breasts,
until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for
impossible criminals with golden heads and the
charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet
blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky
Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys
or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or
Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the
daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp
notism & were left with their insanity & their
hands & a hung jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism
and subsequently presented themselves on the
granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads
and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin
Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational
therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic
pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of
blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad
man doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid
halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul,
rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench
dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare,
bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book
flung out of the tenement window, and the last
door closed at 4. A.M. and the last telephone
slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room
emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture,
a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet,
and even that imaginary,
nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and
now you're really in the total animal soup of time
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed
with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use
of the ellipse the catalog the meter & the vibrating plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space
through images juxtaposed, and trapped the
archangel of the soul between 2 visual images
and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun
and dash of consciousness together jumping
with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human
prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent
and shaking with shame,
rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm
of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown,
yet putting down here what might be left to say
in time come after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in
the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the
suffering of America's naked mind for love into
an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone
cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered
out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open
their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob
tainable dollars! Children screaming under the
stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men
weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the
loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy
judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the
crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of
sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment!
Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose
blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers
are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo!
Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows!
Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long
streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories
dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose
smokestacks and antennae crown the cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch
whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch
whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch
whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen!
Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream
Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in
Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom
I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch
who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy!
Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch!
Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs!
skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic
industries! spectral nations! invincible mad
houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pave-
ments, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to
Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies!
gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole
boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions!
gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs!
Ten years' animal screams and suicides!
Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on
the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the
wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell!
They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving!
carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!
Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland
where you're madder than I am
I'm with you in Rockland
where you must feel very strange
I'm with you in Rockland
where you imitate the shade of my mother
I'm with you in Rockland
where you've murdered your twelve secretaries
I'm with you in Rockland
where you laugh at this invisible humor
I'm with you in Rockland
where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
I'm with you in Rockland
where your condition has become serious and
is reported on the radio
I'm with you in Rockland
where the faculties of the skull no longer admit
the worms of the senses
I'm with you in Rockland
where you drink the tea of the breasts of the
spinsters of Utica
I'm with you in Rockland
where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the
harpies of the Bronx
I'm with you in Rockland
where you scream in a straightjacket that you're
losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss
I'm with you in Rockland
where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul
is innocent and immortal it should never die
ungodly in an armed madhouse
I'm with you in Rockland
where fifty more shocks will never return your
soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a
cross in the void
I'm with you in Rockland
where you accuse your doctors of insanity and
plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the
fascist national Golgotha
I'm with you in Rockland
where you will split the heavens of Long Island
and resurrect your living human Jesus from the
superhuman tomb
I'm with you in Rockland
where there are twenty-five-thousand mad com-
rades all together singing the final stanzas of
the Internationale
I'm with you in Rockland
where we hug and kiss the United States under
our bedsheets the United States that coughs all
night and won't let us sleep
I'm with you in Rockland
where we wake up electrified out of the coma
by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the
roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the
hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse
O skinny legions run outside O starry
spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is
here O victory forget your underwear we're free
I'm with you in Rockland
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-
journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night.

~

Poem from http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/Ramble/howl_text.html

Saved by a List

2009-09-21T15:00:00.000-07:00

I arrived at my wit's end today and a list rescued me just as I was about to plummet toward the abyss.

As soon as I wrote down the things I needed to do (top 4) and started to do them, my crazy little world calmed down and the planets fell back into order.

What kind of lists do you write?

~

photo "i make lists" from tiny white lights' Flikr photostream

Marina's Memoirs

2009-09-18T14:48:00.000-07:00

A guest post from the lovely Marina, Chef and Chief Rambler at Le Petit Cafe, Bloomington, IN.

After 32 years in the restaurant business, I certainly have accumulated enough stories to write my memoirs; it was the topic of this morning's rambling while I was preparing my delicious cod/lox quiche….

What would I mostly write about? People, what else? Of course, I could describe the delicate scent emanating from a freshly baked Tarte Tatin but would people pay money to read that? I would not; I would rather spend my money on the tart itself!

So, I would write stories about the people who have made me laugh and about the people who have made me cry too; no one wants to read a long succession of happy dining stories of happy customers. I know I would not; I would be bored to tears!

This is precisely what I want to entertain you about: how could I possibly write about the people who have frustrated me and be absolutely sure the ones who have never caused me any grief (would it be easier if I called these two groups by a letter?) will not take it personally?

For instance, if I tell a story about that vegetarian or that person with food and allergy issues, I can think of at least 20 people, WHO ARE ABSOLUTELY NOT THE ONES I AM TALKING ABOUT, who might take it personally! Then what do I do?

A long foot-note at the bottom of the page might be the solution but it would say something like this:

The allergic person in this story is not the one who comes for lunch every Sunday and sits by the piano or the person whose son goes to IU Law School or the one who owns a vintage clothing shop, etc….

The vegetarian in this story is not a retired Spanish teacher who also comes every Sunday for lunch and also sits by the piano or a woman married to a man in the lumber business who also enjoys sitting by the piano (I know what you are thinking: the piano is a coveted sitting spot) or a person married to a mathematician, etc…

Each foot note would be as long as the acknowledgments at the end of a book!

I might find the solution to this dilemma during another rambling session but I all can think now is that I should either wait until I retire or attend a writing class. But quite frankly, with all this rambling who has time for a class?

Female Photographers Unite!

2009-09-17T04:03:00.000-07:00

Check out the Shuttter Sisters on their collaborative photo blog.

Marina, Chef and Chief Rambler at Le Petit Cafe, Bloomington, IN., will resume her Friday guest post this week. We are sorry that she was not with us this past Friday. Did you miss her?

My Latest Creative Venture with Wordpress.com

2009-09-10T19:31:00.000-07:00

Check out the website I am working on for poet Cecilia Woloch: www.ceciliawoloch.com

This is what has been keeping me so busy for the last few weeks.

Early to Bed, Early to Rise...

2009-09-07T02:33:00.001-07:00

...Makes a Man Healthy, Wealthy and Wise. That's what my grandfather always said, anyway.

After a fun-filled Labor Day weekend with family and friends, I have decided it's time to get back to work. On Labor Day. I have several projects that I have been procrastinating on that are starting to make me feel bad, so, when I found myself awake, staring at the ceiling this morning at 5 a.m., I decided to just get up and tackle the projects.

At heart, I am a morning person. I get my best work done in the hours between 4 a.m. and 10 a.m. After that, I get slow.

So, off to drink my Earl Gray Tea and start ticking things off my mental list. I am committed to starting this new week off right!

The Secret to Long Life?

2009-09-05T14:12:00.001-07:00

Photo from www.stockvault.net

I was walking down the street the other day and happened upon an older woman who was walking as well. We commented to each other on how hot it was, and somehow the brief conversation ended with her recommendation for beating the heat: lemon water.

Lemon is an antiseptic, so aside from being refreshing, it is also good for keeping germs at bay.

For more on "The Amazing Health Benefits of Lemon Water," click HERE.

Cheers!

Genie in a Bottle...

2009-09-04T17:29:00.000-07:00

...of Beaujolais.

This is a guest post from our Friday guest blogger, Marina, from Le Petit Cafe, in Bloomington, In.

One of my favorite ramblings after, let’s say, a frustrating shift is to imagine a little Genie appearing out of my bottle of wine. There is always a bottle of wine after a frustrating shift and today it happened to be a Beaujolais.

-Mistress, the Genie cried, you have freed me and I will grant you one wish: you can make one change in the American legislation!

I can imagine your surprise: what kind of wish is that? Maybe you do not know Beaujolais does not age for very long therefore there is no reason the Genie should be excessively grateful.

My first thought went to Universal Healthcare but I then realized this issue will probably end up being solved by this wonderful new President we have. I might as well ask for something that has NO chance to ever happen, right?

Every American citizen from age 18 to 25 (I gave some thought to the particulars too) should accomplish a 6 month mandatory service as a waiter in a restaurant!

Try to imagine how much more considerate, patient, tolerant and generous our society would be! This new well-being would of course trickle down on many sensitive issues: for instance, being happier, we would be healthier; being loved and respected by other nations, there might be fewer conflicts in the world. A perfect plan.

Sometimes I just do not know what I am doing here, rambling in my kitchen, instead of being out there helping solve some major crisis. If you happen to know anyone who works for the Government, forward this idea to that person please…

A Single Step

2009-08-31T16:03:00.000-07:00

This is my last day in my cute little bungalow dream office after a year of writing and creating here. I have lots of books to move. So many books. I also have some writing to do and a website design to complete. Oh, and a virtual book launch party to plan and throw. By tomorrow.

So, I'm doing it all, piece by piece. And it's getting done, one little piece at a time. And all the while, the winds of change blow in. I watch myself stepping out of my comfort zone again and getting ready to make a leap toward new things.

Sometimes it's hard to know where to begin when I wake up in the morning or sit down to work on the computer again. So I begin with one thing. A single step. And it works.

"A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

Lao-tzu, The Way of Lao-tzu
Chinese philosopher (604 BC - 531 BC)

The Power of Our Thoughts

2009-08-30T10:57:00.001-07:00

Photo courtesy of Andy Storms

"Food Tricks"

2009-08-28T19:59:00.000-07:00

This is the first of hopefully many guest posts by the lovely Marina, Chef and Chief Rambler at Le Petit Cafe, in Bloomington, In. This post was originally published on Marina's Facebook Ramblog.

Enjoy!

Friday! Time to have a little fun! Being a Chef, my favorite tricks are the ones involving food and that’s what I want to share with you today. I LOVE playing tricks with food, especially organ meat. Beef tongue is my absolute favorite. For instance, locate a beef tongue (Walmart is a good source), sneak behind a friend holding the tongue near his/her ear and whisper softly “Give me a kiss Honey…”. Surprise 100% guaranteed! Whether the surprise is delighted, disgusted or violent, it will be big.

Here is another charming idea involving beef tongue (this one would gain in being illustrated and I will make a point of taking a picture for you). Locate a milk crate and place it upside down over the tongue, so that it sticks out. Then write a nice sign reading “DO NOT FEED THE TONGUE” and place it next to it. This actually would be a charming way to let a friend, with whom you just had a fight, know you are over it and that things are back to normal (well….maybe not quite “normal” but at least you have not lost your sense of humor yet and a good laugh always helps…).

Squid is great too! Squid makes great finger puppets. This idea would be quite original for a birthday party too but I would suggest the party should take place in the kitchen (you know, the carpet and the couch…).

Chocolate dipped cardboard so it looks like chocolate wafers is fun too (and not cruel for you cannot hurt your teeth against cardboard). It would be a nice touch to pass them to friends at the movies to alleviate the tension during those dramatic scenes.

Now as far as bread making is concerned, I could tell you about an entire line of interesting sculptures but some brush against indecency and I would not want to be kicked out of Facebook for inappropriate rambling… Happy week-end!

Make it New

2009-08-26T19:47:00.001-07:00

"Wanna Work Together?"

2009-08-25T09:11:00.001-07:00

"Wanna Work Together?" video from Creative Commons, Attribution 2.0 Generic License.

Creative Commons Images

2009-08-24T09:19:00.000-07:00

Have been researching Creative Commons over the last few days. Want to learn more about how to share images online and how to properly give and get credit for images shared. Still a bit mystified, but am having fun today exploring Creative Commons images on Flickr.

How does one attribute (give credit) for a CC image used on her website or blog? Here's what they say on the Creative Commons FAQ:

All current CC licenses require that you attribute the original author(s). If the copyright holder has not specified any particular way to attribute them, this does not mean that you do not have to give attribution. It simply means that you will have to give attribution to the best of your ability with the information you do have. Generally speaking, this implies five things:

* If the work itself contains any copyright notices placed there by the copyright holder, you must leave those notices in tact, or reproduce them in a way that is reasonable to the medium in which you are re-publishing the work.

* Cite the author's name, screen name, user identification, etc. If you are publishing on the Internet, it is nice to link that name to the person's profile page, if such a page exists.

* Cite the work's title or name, if such a thing exists. If you are publishing on the Internet, it is nice to link the name or title directly to the original work.

* Cite the specific CC license the work is under. If you are publishing on the Internet, it is nice if the license citation links to the license on the CC website.

* If you are making a derivative word or adaptation, in addition to the above, you need to identify that your work is a derivative work i.e., “This is a Finnish translation of the [original work] by [author].” or “Screenplay based on [original work] by [author].”

In the case where a copyright holder does choose to specify the manner of attribution, in addition to the requirement of leaving in tact existing copyright notices, they are only able to require certain things. Namely:

* They may require that you attribute the work to a certain name, pseudonym or even an organization of some sort.

* They may require you to associate/provide a certain URL (web address) for the work.

Carpathia: Poems by Cecilia Woloch

2009-08-23T14:38:00.001-07:00

My advance copy arrived in the mail today. Yipee!

Official release date is September 1. Stay tuned for more and check Cecilia Woloch's personal website (soon to be updated) for more info. about the author.

The Ultimate Flea and Tick Solution?

2009-08-22T12:23:00.000-07:00

I am a hippie at heart and prefer to use all-natural pest repellents on Bambu and Suki, my dog and cat, over the usual suspects: Frontline and other pharmaceuticals. But I need something that works. During summertime in the tropics. Not easy.

Might "Shoo!TAG," be just the solution I've been looking for?

Today B & S each had a bath with Richard's Organics lovely smelling Flea and Tick Shampoo (which also claims to repel mosquitoes). Then I put the Shoo!TAGs on each animal's collar (magnetic strip facing inward) and crossed my fingers.

How does Shoo!TAG work? Here's what they have to say over at shootag.com:

Using your pet’s electrical field, Shoo!TAG creates a protective barrier from targeted pests, reaching maximum strength within 36 hours after attachment.

- Shoo!TAG™ is the ultimate solution for protecting your pets from targeted pests.

- Shoo!TAG™ uses NO chemicals, is odor-free and is safe for pets, people and the Planet.

- Shoo!TAG™ is easy to use; simply remove from the packaging and attach to the pet’s collar with the provided split ring...that’s it!

- Shoo!TAG™ is effective, economical, and eco-friendly.

~~~

Shoo!TAG™ represents a paradigm shift in the pest management industry. Shoo!TAG™ utilizes Nature’s energetic principles in combination with physics, quantum physics and advanced computer software technology. The key to Shoo!TAG™ is the three dimensional electromagnetic field embedded in the magnetic strip.

Shoo!TAG™ utilizes the power of the bio-energetic field which surrounds all living things to create a frequency barrier which repels targeted pests for up to four months.

Shoo!TAG™'s magnetic strip is encoded with beneficial frequencies and resonances and an electromagnetic charge bearing a polarized energy signature, which when introduced into the bio-energetic field of the wearer produces results.

Shoo!TAG™ also assists the body in altering its external bio-energetic field so as to effectively repel targeted pests. This is possible because various insects and pests react to frequencies. These frequencies are introduced into the bio-energetic field of the wearer. These specific frequencies and resonances have proven to disturb targeted pests and create a barrier.

I hope this works.

A Visionary Spring Project

2009-03-22T11:21:00.000-07:00

This Saturday, the Spring Equinox, I made my first Vision Board. Sometimes words are not enough!

Materials needed: a manila file folder, a glue stick, a pair of scissors, old magazines, good music.

Process:

Cut and paste a collage of images, words and phrases on to the manila file folder. Pick words and images you are drawn to for whatever reason. Arrange them in any manner that feels right to you.

One can focus a vision board on a particular work/life theme (like love, or work or creativity), or just make a free-form board. I chose free-form ~ cutting anything that caught me eye or tugged at my mind.

My board ended up with more words than images, and I'm thinking next time, I will try to use more images, just to see what comes up.

I haven't looked much at my board since making it, but it helped me clarify and affirm some of my goals, dreams and desires. Which is a good thing ;)

Have you ever made a vision board? What was your process? Was it helpful? Fun?

The Monster's Room

2009-02-03T08:39:00.000-08:00

We have a room in our house that we've come to call "The Monster's Room." Aquaman jokes that ever since my father slept in it a few years ago, it shelters a sort of active tornado of things that have no home. In other words: it is a disorganized mess!

But, I am here to announce a victory. After years of avoiding the Monster's Room, I finally decided to face the monster!

Despite my many fabulous strengths (smile), I have my limitations, as we all do. Keeping house has always been one of them. It takes me hours to finish the basic household chores that others perform in minutes.

But I want my room back! So I asked my friend C if she'd trade some potted plants (she has a green thumb) for a few hours helping me tame the monster (or at least appeasing him).

C. obliged, and after 2 hours, the room was just a room again. The Poltergeist was gone thanks to her organizational prowess and vision. Gracias C!

It pays to ask for help!

Poetry Postcard Project

2009-01-31T09:20:00.000-08:00

These are the first two postcards I've received since joining a poetry postcard project a couple of weeks ago online. Interested in learning more about the project or signing up? Let me know and I'll send you info.

It is fun and exciting to receive cards each week from poets and poetry enthusiasts (mostly strangers) around the globe!

Dedicate

2009-01-29T11:25:00.000-08:00

My compañero was once in a challenging mountain bike race, competing with many professionals and top athletes. He was an amateur, but he won the race anyway. Why?

Before the race began, he dedicated it to a fallen athlete/friend he had studied with in grade school. His friend had been an exceptional mountain bike rider/racer.

Don't ask me how it worked, but it worked.

This experience makes me think ~ what might I accomplish in a day, a minute, an hour, if I dedicate it to someone?

Has anyone tried this? What have your results been?

The List

2009-01-21T08:58:00.000-08:00

"Tips for a Better Life"

1. Take a 10-30 minutes walk every day. And while you walk, smile.
2. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.
3. Sleep for 7 hours.
4. Live with the 3 E's -- Energy, Enthusiasm, and Empathy.
5. Play more games.
6. Read more books than you did the previous year.
7. Make time to practice meditation, yoga, and prayer. They provide us with daily fuel for our busy lives.
8. Spend time with people over the age of 70 & under the age of 6.
9. Dream more while you are awake.
10. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.
11. Drink plenty of water.
12. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
13. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip.
14. Forget issues of the past. Don't remind your partner with his/her mistakes of the past. That will ruin your present happiness.
15. Don't have negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.
16. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
17. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar.
18. Smile and laugh more.
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone. Don't hate others.
20. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
21. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
22. Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.
23. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about. Don't compare your partner with others.
24. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
25. Forgive everyone for everything.
26. What other people think of you is none of your business.
27. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
28. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
29. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
30. Jealousy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
31. The best is yet to come.
32. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
33. Do the right thing!
34. Call your family often.
35. Your inner most (?) is always happy. So be happy.
36. Each day give something good to others.
37. Don't over do. Keep your limits.
38. Share this with someone you care about.

-Source: e-mail and facebook chain message

Lady Lazarus

2009-01-20T13:16:00.000-08:00

"New York's Liberty Island - Statue of Liberty and Seagull", David Paul Ohmer, Flickr

The New Colossus, by Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Savor The Moment

2009-01-17T11:04:00.001-08:00

Photo courtesy of Szaritza

Don't Worry, Be Happy

2009-01-16T07:27:00.000-08:00

I woke up from another tsunami dream the other morning feeling troubled, yet resolved. Enough of tsunamis and emergency landings! I want my dream time to be a pleasant, perhaps even enlightening break from "real life."

Here's what I think I need to do to create a more pleasant overall sleeping (not to mention waking) experience: change my thinking. Reprogram my brain to not worry.

Easier said than done, as worrying is somewhat of a longstanding hobby of mine.

How will I get the monkey off my shoulder?

I'm thinking: Breath work, mantras, meditation. And of course, exercise.

Any other tips for worry warts?

Brain Power

2009-01-12T11:33:00.000-08:00

Photo courtesy of Andy Storms

January Epiphanies

2009-01-12T08:19:00.000-08:00

1. The solution to not wanting to clean my house is: wanting to clean my house.

I've found that aromatherapy cleaning products make me want to clean my house. I especially enjoy the scent of the "general cleaner" mix I concocted from water, tea tree oil and lavender. Highly recommended.

2. The solution to not wanting to tidy up is: Have Less Stuff (which makes tidying up quick and intuitive).

How to have less stuff is still a challenge for this collector. I'm thinking: trash/give-away day once a week?

Still "imaging" this new year. Perhaps vision boards are next.

Giving Back

2008-12-24T14:00:00.000-08:00

Was shocked out of my Christmas bliss this afternoon upon seeing that not everyone is as fortunate as I am this year. On the way home from last minute shopping, I saw a man walking home, if he has a home, from the hospital, I gather (he had the plastic name band around his wrist), wearing no shoes, only surgical paper booties. He was stepping so carefully on the dirty city street as I walked by with packages and gifts in hand. Where was he going and why was he alone? I so badly wanted to give him something, but alas, had no shoes or anything else useful to offer.

I turned the next city block to find an aging homeless man sitting under a stairwell picking at some food that he had scrounged. Not exactly a Christmas Eve feast.

As we head into 2009, let us think of how we can give back to our local communities and those less fortunate. Think globally, act locally.

Merry Christmas!

What is Creative Wellness (CW)?

2008-12-23T09:21:00.000-08:00

Hm... Do you have an answer to that question? Please post in comment section below!

My gander is that CW is holistic ~ in order for one part of the whole to be well, all parts must be well.

So CW encompasses all areas of everyday life ~ from personal health and finance to relationships to fitness to communities and systems.