My son, Paul, has a very artistic eye. I love the way he sees the world - expressed through the stories he writes and the way he can find interesting scenes in places I would never look. This is a recent photograph of his. I find it fascinating and starkly beautiful.

To see more of his photos, click here: Paul

Freak out time.

I've been researching too much and I'm freaking myself out.

Doubts about the doctor, the diagnosis, my health...

I found a site that says that they have seen these symptoms in people in early stages of Parkinson's. Shit. Any tremors going on that I have not paid attention to?

I worry that the doctor diagnosed too easily and quickly and he's really wrong and I'll wake up from the anesthesia with nothing improved and a horrible future in the medical maze.

My biggest fear in life?

Not public speaking, even though I feel like I'm going to throw up every time I choose to speak in public.

Not death - at least I don't think so.

My biggest fear is living in hospital/doctor hell. The place where you feel awful, so they give you some torturous tests and load you full of meds that make you feel even worse than before. The loss of control of my life. Spending my time in sterile rooms and corridors where I am not talked about by my name, but by my diagnosis.

Wow! I've gotten way ahead of myself here! Here I am, sitting in my nice, warm house, Buddha dog by my side, and feeling pretty good this moment. What's going on???

This upcoming procedure has brought up a bunch of old stuff, and I have almost totally left this moment and started to feel the stuff from the past and project it into the future.

Who needs a time machine in order to travel into the future? I can do it in the blink of an eye.

Thanks for listening. That really helped!

In his article, Seeing the Suffering We Cause, Andrew Fiala brings up the South Carolina bill that, if passed, would require a woman seeking an abortion to first see an ultrasound of her fetus. Seeing the life within her body might make the decision harder, but are these decisions supposed to be easy?

Fiala goes on to bring up other areas of life where we are immune to seeing the suffering caused by our decisions: war, eating meat, using cosmetics that were tested on animals. Our society makes it very convenient to not feel any compassion for the objects that we affect - in fact, many times, we are not even aware that what we buy directly affects another living being.

I buy mascara maybe once every ten years and wear it maybe once every three years (I know, I should not be using such old mascara). I wasn't aware, until I read Fiala's article, that mascara was tested by applying it to the eyes of animals, which slowly blinds them. Why would I need to know? I just have to go to the store, pick out a package of this black gunk that lengthens, thickens, darkens, strengthens, etc., etc. and pay for it. Pain-free!

Until now. Now when I visualize myself applying make-up so that I can feel good about myself, I also see some young calf stumbling blindly in a poop-filled pen.

Then I don't feel very good about myself.

Does ignorance let us off the hook?

Fiala says, "To reach good conclusions about these tough practices, we need detailed knowledge about them. But for the most part we lack this knowledge because the "wet work" happens behind closed doors, where we cannot see it or judge it."

And I guess it will stay behind closed doors as long as we don't really want to know.


"The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision." Helen Keller

I am doing what I said that I would not do. I am going to go under general anesthesia so that a doctor can break up the adhesions in my shoulder. Oh, I did not want to do this. But I THINK that I am glad that I made the decision.

The Dr said that he is "intrigued" by my case. I hope I get some kind of award for that. He has not seen a bilateral case of frozen shoulder before and mine is "extreme". I think I coulda told him that.

So, in a week or two, I will be able to raise my hand to vote at a meeting. I'll be able to see my armpits for the first time in months. I'll be able to dress myself and do all kinds of fun things. I will have less pain. I will dance and I will hug people!

And I got drugs. I'm going all out. I got some pain meds so that I can maybe get some sleep.

Dreamland, here I come!

What to write, what to write...

I am sleeping a tad better, which gives me a better attitude on life and also allows me more energy to function. That is a good thing. I put a foam egg crate thingy on my bed and it makes a world of difference. I absolutely LOVE it! Feels like I'm sleeping on a cloud and my shoulders don't scream quite as much.

I am meeting with one of my friends every three weeks or so, and we are working through Stephen Levine's book, A Year to Live. With my shoulder pain and limitations and as I watch my friend who is suffering so much with her pancreatic cancer, this seems like good work to be doing.

I finished co-facilitating the communications class based on Marshall Rosenberg's Nonviolent Communication a few weeks ago, and it was a great experience. It was exciting to hear participants talk about the changes that were brought about in their lives from learning and using these skills. If Nonviolent Communication was taught in our schools (and used by our politicians), we would have a completely different world.

A few days ago, I was eating at my favorite restaurant - Ali Baba's - with a friend. A man from the table behind ours got up and walked around the table in a move that looked like he was going to help an elderly man get up. Only after helping the man get up, he put his arms around the elderly man from behind - doing the Heimlich maneuver. I have never seen anyone do this FOR REAL. Major adrenaline and thoughts about what if it doesn't work and I have to watch this man die in front of me... I picked up my cell phone and had hit the "9" button on my way to "911", knowing that help most likely would not be able to get there in time, when the Heimlich worked and all was well. Except my shaking hands. And probably the participants in this drama, although they acted very cool, obviously trying to avoid a scene.

I have been reading articles about our plans to bomb Iran. Webster G. Tarpley, in his article, Operation Bite: April 6 sneak attack by US forces against Iran planned, Russian military sources warn says that we will attack them on Good Friday. Friday is the Muslim sabbath, and Good Friday is, well, I didn't know it meant a good day to bomb the hell out of people. WWJD?

I don't know if it is true that we will be bombing them on the 6th or when, but this positioning makes me sick.

How do we stop this machine??? I used to believe that they would listen to us. Until there were hundreds of thousands in the street protesting the Iraq war. And the war happened anyway. And there have been thousands in the streets since then and the occupation continues. W has an approval rating of, what, 29 per cent? And he does what he does anyway.

I have been searching my soul for answers during these months of slowing down. Still don't know...

Check out the 2006 YouTube Awards.

I'm glad to see that "Here it Goes Again" and the "Free Hugs Campaign" made it. The Best Music Video, "Say it's Possible" is good. She has a great voice.

The rest of the winners??? Maybe I just don't understand...

It was 41 degrees and raining yesterday when we stood. It never entered my mind to put on my long johns since temps had been in the 70's for days up until yesterday. We about froze! But, despite the cold and wet, we still had enough women to be able to hold both banners. I am so amazed at the dedication of these wonderful women who are willing to come out in this kind of weather.

I bet you'll never figure out which one of these black-clad Women in Rain is me.



"If you are religious, then remember that this bomb is Man's challenge to God. It's worded quite simply: We have the power to destroy everything that You have created. If you're not religious, then look at it this way. This world of ours is 460,000,000 years old. It could end in an afternoon." - Arundhati Roy

I love this story from the BBC today.

The eagle that came to visit
By Hamilton Wende
BBC, Zambia

The crash was terrifyingly loud.

I was sitting upright naked in bed in my hotel room when a spray of glass shards shot across the room covering the bed and floor. It left me utterly disorientated.

My mind raced back to the war zones I had covered. Explosions or gunfire that I had experienced in Baghdad, Congo, or the townships in South Africa all came flooding back to me.

But this was a quiet Sunday morning in downtown Lusaka, the capital of Zambia, a country that has never known war, and it just did not make any kind of sense.

My hands were shaking slightly and my head spinning as I threw back the covers and scrambled out of bed.

Lying on the carpet below the shattered window was an eagle. It was, well, spread-eagled on its back amid the shards of broken glass.

For a moment I stood there, transfixed, staring at this bizarre phenomenon.

The great sandy-coloured bird looked almost human in its semi-conscious distress. Its large wings were fully extended to the length of my own arms, its feet opening and shutting uncontrollably, its eyes fluttering half-open.

There was something hauntingly beautiful in the deep brown colour of its eyes, in the curve of its sharp talons and in its long scythe-like beak that would tear the flesh of my face and arms to shreds in panicked incomprehension if I picked it up.

I did not know what to do next. I knew I had to act before it regained full consciousness.

First I ran into the bathroom and wrapped a towel around my waist, partly to protect my dignity and partly to protect everything else.

I then tried to open the door, which led onto a balcony so the bird would have an escape route. But the door kept slamming shut, on an automatic spring, so somehow I managed to wedge it open with a plastic waste paper basket.

All the while the eagle was beginning to wake up and stare at me with increasingly bright and it seemed to me, angry eyes, as if it blamed me for its predicament.

Finally, I slipped on a pair of sandals and grabbed another towel. In a sliding, and certainly indecorous, series of panicky movements, I rushed across the sea of broken glass and wrapped a towel around the eagle.

I held it in my hands for a few moments, aware of the strange paradox of vulnerability and power contained in its warm, surprisingly light body. Its head was held straight on its shoulders. It was clearly coming to. I threw it gently out through the remains of the window. It stretched its wings and flew unharmed into a nearby tree.

As I got dressed I found myself wondering what extraordinary circumstance had brought an eagle to crash through my window. There seemed something both wonderful and vaguely disturbing about it.

My Zambian colleague was visibly distressed when I told him. "It is a bad omen," he said. "Most people here believe that something terrible will happen to you now."

I did not want to believe him, but secretly I was uncomfortable. Eagles and omens have been part of both African and Western mythology since earliest times and we cannot shake off our primal psychological feelings that easily.

The front manager was both fascinated and appalled. "I must make an immediate physical inspection," he said, and soon my room was filled with hotel staff staring open-mouthed at the litter of broken glass and feathers.

The story spread quickly through the hotel, becoming a kind of Aesop's Fable for the age of air-conditioning.

"We have found the bird," the security manager told me at breakfast. I was escorted to a room beneath the kitchen where, with a dramatic flourish, he pulled a dead pigeon out of a drawer.

"No," I told him. "It was an eagle. A big eagle". I spread my arms out to make my point.

"I told you so," a young security guard said triumphantly to his boss. "It was chasing that little bird. The pigeon hit the window first and then the eagle crashed through the glass."

The case had been solved.

But there was still the lingering omen to be cleared up. They gave me a new room, and all the next day, the staff looked at me curiously. "No birds this morning?" one of the elevator technicians asked.

Finally, the young security guard came to me in the lobby. "You must not be worried," he said, "about the meaning of what happened. It is a good sign. That pigeon was seeking your protection. It means you are man who has kindness."

Of course, I had not the heart to point out the irony that it was the pigeon which died, and the eagle which was saved.

Photo Gallery at Digital Grace

There are some very well-done photos at Digital Grace which show the march in D.C. last weekend for the commemoration of the 4 year anniversary of the war. Besides people marching to end the war, counter demonstrators were there to support the war - oh, and according to them, to protect the Vietnam Memorial from people like Cindy Sheehan who would be spitting on the memorial.

One of the more interesting photos shows a person holding a sign that says:




What's the deal with that???


Thank you, Barbara, on the Camp Casey list for the tip!

"I will not play tug o' war. I'd rather play hug o' war. Where everyone hugs instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, and everyone grins, and everyone cuddles, and everyone wins." - Shel Silverstein

Video: The Last Time I Saw Jessica Rich

Chun Pan videotaped Jessica Rich, an Iraq war vet, talking about the Iraq war while at Camp Casey/Colorado Springs. Jessica died last month in a head-on collision. She was driving the wrong way down I-25. A statistic of this war that you won't see in the official numbers...

We're a little late to plant the peas, but hopefully they'll forgive us and produce an abundant crop. These are the carrots I pulled today. They stayed warm all winter under their blanket of pine needles. There would've been more if some little critter wouldn't have dug some up last fall.

I love putting my hands in the soil. I love all the happy little worms. It's exciting to look for treasures like these carrots and the baby spinach that popped up on its own after the snows receded.

I haven't had much to say lately. I realized that 12 hours of my day are spent trying to get at least 6 hours of sleep and soaking in a hot tub so that I can make it through the day. During the other 12 hours, I'm just a little brain-dead and slow.

I have been standing at our Women in Black vigil each Saturday. Holding the banner is not a problem, because my shoulders stay in a neutral position.

At last week's vigil, a man and woman stopped their car in front of us and gave us some pretty hefty opinions about what they thought should happen to W and his closest cohort. But we have a vow of silence, so we just stood there and heard them. At one point, a symphony of honks played in front of us, including people joining together to complete the "shave and a haircut" mantra. There was so much support for what we were doing, as we stood out in our suburban desert, that I felt very heartened.

Yesterday, I didn't attend the St Patrick's Day parade (even though I'm half Irish) or the 4th anniversary of the war march and rally downtown (the only one I've missed since before all of this craziness began). Instead I stood at our usual vigil location. It was quieter out on the western front. Send all the celebrating Irish and peaceniks downtown, and there's a lot less excitement in Lakewood, I guess.

Motorcycles...

Being the *ahem* age that I am, I remember when I wanted to ride across country like Easy Rider. I held this image of the biker with the flag on his jacket or bike or helmet as a rebel and against the Vietnam war. I wanted to be like that when I was old enough.

Now when we stand on Saturdays, most bikers ignore us, although I think I kind of pick up a look of disdain sometimes. A few bikers have done a very good job of flipping us off - very clean and crisp. And I have only seen one person on a motorcycle thrust his fist into the air in support. Really, the percentages - pro, con and indifferent - are probably about the same with car drivers.

Yesterday, about a dozen bikers were stopped in front of us for the red light. Engines so loud I could feel the vibration through my feet. For no apparent reason, I suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. I flashed back to last Easter at Camp Casey when about a 100 motorcycles drove around Camp Casey II in order to intimidate us.

When the light turned green, the bikers drove away, and I watched something fall onto the street. Cars passed over it, never touching it. After awhile, I realized that it was a cell phone. When traffic stopped again, I went into the street and picked it up.

I just now got back from meeting the cell phone's owner. When I gave her her phone, she handed me an envelope. After I drove off, I opened it and found a thank you note with a $20 bill inside.

Healing...

Yesterday, after we had left, the Colorado resolution to stop the surge passed the committee. It was divided down party lines. This is a very emotional issue. We all want peace and safety for ourselves and our loved ones. May it be so.

A pretty fair and balanced audio slide show from the Rocky Mountain News. I don't know how long they will leave it up. Notice the man with the sign and the man with the American flag on his jacket. Signs, t-shirts with messages, and buttons were not allowed in the room. I wonder if I would've been allowed to wear a jacket with an Iraqi or Mexican flag on it.

I wasn't going to bring up this topic. Reading about it has given me such a sick, sad feeling. I am sad for our country and our people that we have come to this. I am sad that we are getting to a place where dialog is out and our belief systems are hardened into deep grooves of righteousness so that we can't see that there is no "other". Today we are not the dead Iraqi in the street or the killer who took the Iraqi's life. But tomorrow, we could be. Today we wear the flag to show patriotism when forty years ago, it was worn to show dissent. How did we come to forget that we are all one human race, how did we forget that we need to take the time to connect and listen? We all want the same things. We just have different strategies to get those things.

I can visualize a time when proponents of this war and opponents of this war can come together to grieve the losses of all wars, when they can allow the grief to bring them together.

Anyway, now that Charlie Anderson has written about this deep division that I worry will cause harm this weekend, I'll let you read it in his words. He has more authority to write about this than I do.

The Wall That Now Divides Us

By Charles E. Anderson

"Most Walls are meant to divide us and separate me from you,

But God Bless the wall that brings us together and reminds us Of what we've been through"

-James W. Herrick, Touch a Name on the Wall


The night air was cool and damp with spring rain as I walked down the dimly lit path in front of the Vietnam Memorial Wall for the first time. I was only nine years old and too young to fully grasp the meaning of the seemingly endless row of black onyx tablets etched with thousands of names that stretched out in front of me. I was also far too young to understand the impact of the Vietnam War on our country or the impact it had on the generation of young Americans that fought it. But, even as a young child, I could tell that The Wall was sacred space. There was an overwhelming air of sorrow that permeated the air around the shrine. People spoke only in hushed tones, many stared at a single name for long periods of time, and even a young child like me could easily be moved to tears. The Vietnam War tore the nation apart. Nearly 60,000 Americans gave their lives in the struggle, over 300,000 more were wounded, and countless more are still suffering with the effects of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and Agent Orange. The nation itself was polarized into camps of "pro-war" and "anti-war," casting aside similarities, such as love of country, in favor of political differences. The result was a nation that to this day has not reconciled the societal cost of the war. Worse, the concentration of public opinion, also forced the war's veterans into similar camps of "pro-war" and "anti-war" regardless of shared their suffering and shared experience. The chasm created by this unfortunate polarization has prevented many veterans from finding peace with the war. The Vietnam Memorial Wall was built to deliberately cast aside these controversies and create hallowed ground where the nation could grieve the loss of a generation of its youth away from the political distractions and away from the turmoil surrounding the war. Though many vehemently opposed The Wall as inappropriate or simply an "ugly black gash in the ground" before its construction, the nation has come to treasure the memorial as a shrine to 58,253 unfinished lives.

Twenty years after my first visit, I came to The Wall as a combat veteran and The Wall took on an entirely new significance to me during that visit. The Iraq War is in many ways similar to the Vietnam War. Both wars were controversial at home causing the veterans to feel betrayed or abandoned either by government or by the population at large. In both wars, the mission was often unclear to "the grunts on the ground." Much needed equipment and material goods were denied to the forces in the field by Washington Bureaucrats and in both wars, the care of veterans has not been a true priority. The treatment of veterans both by the government and average citizens has led many veterans of both wars to feel cut off from the nation they love and honorably served. On that and subsequent visits, The Wall has felt like a sanctuary from the political storm that has surrounded the Iraq War. The Wall is a place where I can mourn the dead not only of the Vietnam War, but of all wars, including mine. As a warrior, I carry the loss of life and the loss of innocence tightly within my heart. On every visit to The Wall since returning from Iraq I have met people who disagree with me about the Iraq War. Yet, there are no politics around The Wall, we mourn in silence or share our grief aloud not as liberals or conservatives, not as hawks or doves, not as Republicans or Democrats, but as human beings united by our suffering.

I was saddened to learn recently that for the first time since the beginning of the Iraq War, the sanctity of The Wall will be challenged by protest. On March 17 as a coalition of citizens concerned about the war gathers for a protest march originating across the street form The Wall, a group of counter-demonstrators, calling themselves The Gathering of Eagles, will gather around and presumably in the memorial while spreading their pro-war, pro-Bush/Cheney message. The "eagles" claim that their intention is to "defend" The Wall from attack by the anti-war demonstrators. Yet, through four years of anti-war protest there have been few incidents of vandalism and no war memorial has been damaged in the past. Further, hundreds of veterans and military families, including those who have had loved ones die in this war are at the forefront of today's anti-movement. None of us who have sacrificed in this war would tolerate, much less condone, such behavior.

While the mission statement of the "eagles" states, "...We are adamantly opposed to the use of violence, vandalism, physical or verbal assaults on our veterans, and the destruction or desecration of our memorial... we defend and honor those whose blood gave all of us the right to speak as freely as our minds think." Yet, a cursory look at the comments section at the bottom of the page tells a different story. One commentator wrote, "I hope one of these Muslim commies cross the line so we can teach them a valuable lesson. I will be there with my brothers and will be victorious over these Dimicrat scum. This will teach them not to look at us with seditious eyes" and another expressed similar sentiments: "We need to show these anti-war turkeys we are all business that the sacrifice and honor of the men and women of this Memorial will not be defaced by the likes of them." Organizers for the veterans' contingent of the anti-war march have also received death threats from "eagle" supporters. It seems that the real intent of the Gathering of Eagles is to intimidate those who do not agree with their position on the war. They purport to believe in free speech and to forever honor America's men and women in uniform until the men and women in uniform disagree with them. At the point at which we veterans who feel a duty not to remain silent advocate that our brothers and sisters in arms be brought home alive and cared for both now and when they get here, the "eagles" call us "commies," "traitors" or "dimicrat scum."

I took an oath to defend the constitution and honorably served ten years in uniform. I still hold my oath no less sacred today. One of the ways to honor that oath is to speak freely from the heart. I sacrificed everything I had and everything I was when I went to Iraq. I lost my marriage, a job I loved, and the very way I viewed the world. It is a shame these "eagles" who claim to love and support me so much not only want to silence my voice, but they have chosen to put a wall between me and the one place in America I where I can truly let my guard down and grieve.

Here are a couple of photos from the rally that was held before the hearing today. The people who opposed the resolution to stop W's surge had a rally across the street from the capitol and a few of them stood at the street with signs. I guess we were a counter-demonstration. There weren't many of us, but we stood across the street from the people with the "God Bless Our Brave Troops" sign. I hope they ask God to bless the innocents who are killed, also.

Anyway, the guy on the right is great.

If you're like me and have never read a Harry Potter book or seen a Harry Potter movie, here is what Wikipedia has to say about Voldemort:

"Lord Voldemort is a fictional character of the Harry Potter book series written by J.K. Rowling. He first appeared in the bestseller Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (1997) as the arch-villain of protagonist Harry Potter. Throughout the series, he is consistently depicted as a Dark wizard bent on securing unmatched power and immortality; he also harbours a genocidal hatred of humans without magic. In all books, his name is so feared that many wizards refuse to say it, causing most of the characters to refer him only as "You-Know-Who"or "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named". With the exception of the third installment, Voldemort has appeared in every Harry Potter book, either in person or in some magical manifestation."

I'll write more about the hearing later.

I'm going to the state capitol today to support my Military Family Speak Out friends and to watch what happens at the hearing on a resolution that objects to W's "surge".

My friend, Gaye, who I went to Crawford with last spring was interviewed below. The article mentions the Bake Sale for Body Armor that we held after coming back from Camp Casey. Here are a couple of posts I wrote about our incredible Bake Sale Experience: Day One, Day Two

From Channel 7 in Denver:

Big Crowd Expected At Capitol For Iraq Debate

DENVER -- When Diggs Brown talks about the war on terror, he speaks about the victories he saw while serving in Afghanistan as a Green Beret from 2002 to 2003, training the new Afghan army, teaching English and collecting school supplies for children.

For Gaye Lowe-Kaplan, it's about how her 22-year-old son Andy, a Marine, helped provide security for a northern Iraqi town to vote on the country's new constitution. She said only one villager showed up and then her son's convoy was ambushed, leading to the death of one of his friends.

Both plan to tell state lawmakers their views on the war during a rare hearing on a non-binding resolution Wednesday at the state Capitol. Lawmakers are considering the resolution, which doesn't carry the force of law, criticizing President Bush's decision to send more troops to Iraq. The measure has split the Senate along party lines.

It's similar to resolutions and letters to Congress being considered in 28 other states as part of an organized effort to put pressure on Congress and Bush to change course.

Hundreds of people could turn out for the hearing. Senators have reserved the Capitol's largest meeting room, which holds about 200 people, and another hearing room could be opened if even more people show up.

Senate Minority Leader Sen. Andy McElhany, R-Colorado Springs, has criticized the measure as a "political circus routine."

Brown, a Fort Collins city council member, said he thinks the resolution basically says Coloradans have no confidence in the military and their capability to win the war on terror. He thinks the public doesn't hear enough about the good that American forces are accomplishing, adding that most parts of Iraq are now stable.

"The only people who are upset that we're in Iraq are the terrorists who came across the border, the jihadists, and the Sunnis who lost their power," Brown said.

Lowe-Kaplan, a retired teacher from Wheat Ridge, said her son, now back at his post in Hawaii, can't wait until he is released in July and has given up on a military career after his experience in Iraq. She said she is proud of her son and doesn't think debating the resolution will hurt morale.

"I think the troops are smart enough to know by now that this war isn't winnable and the people back home are trying to support them by bringing them back home," said Lowe-Kaplan, who helped raise about $4,000 at a bake sale to buy body armor for troops.

Only Democrats are backing the resolution, sponsored by Sen. Ron Tupa, D-Boulder, and Sen. Ken Gordon, D-Denver, even though Tupa said he tried to reach out to Republicans by toning down the measure's wording.

The resolution says that it's not in the nation's best interest to send more troops to Iraq and that the war has resulted in the deaths of tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians, hurting efforts to bring peace and democracy to the country.

It also says Colorado honors the bravery of servicemen and women serving in Iraq and Afghanistan and will support making sure they have sufficient resources.

For the first few years after we moved into this house, we had a beautiful flower garden in the front. I enjoyed watching spring emerge with crocus first, then the brilliance of red and yellow tulips, intermixed with daffodils and grape hyacinths.

But invasive weeds were a pain, so a couple of years ago, we dug up the whole garden, covered it with hot black plastic for a year so that everything would die, then laid weed guard down and mulched it. Since then, I have made a few holes in the weed guard and planted some herbs in them.

Yesterday I found that one crocus bulb survived the assault and has pushed its way through the weed guard and mulch to welcome the spring.

I have not been honest and transparent in my blog. I have not told you what is going on with me. I thought that if I didn't tell, I would be stoic and strong. And if I told you, I'd be a weak whiner.

But I realized that if I went to jail or the Grand Canyon or D.C., I would write about my experience. Why is a physical problem something to keep to myself?

So here it is:

You know those crows in the photo? The beautiful way they fly, wings outstretched, free?

Well, it is like my wings have been clipped. I have two frozen shoulders. What that means is

pain

not being able to reach anything above my shoulder - or behind my back - not even being able to reach my opposite armpit

needing help in dressing (except for about 4 shirts that I can get on ALL BY MYSELF)

sleepless, painful nights (I am not good at standing on my head, but I am thinking that that might be the only position that would be pain-free for sleeping - well, then again, I might have new pains if I did that)

FRUSTRATION

an amazing opportunity to increase my capacity for compassion.

This has been going on for about four months. All medical info says that it will only last another 8 to 20 months. I didn't want to pay any attention to that stuff, because this is my body and my experience and I don't have to follow "normal". But it was kind of a relief to know that I might want to settle in to the experience, since it probably wasn't going to go away tomorrow.

So that is one reason why I am not doing as much social justice stuff. Maybe I'll share some of the other reasons sometime.

Maybe.


My photographer cousin, Larry G. Blackwood (of Hawkline Photography fame) just sent out the above photo in his POTD (photo of the day) email. I learned for the first time that a bunch of crows is called a MURDER OF CROWS. Oh, we really need to look at how we use our language!

Thank you to anyone who is reading this after I was away for a MONTH!

Photos from the Denver Post/Hyoung Chang


Now that I am able to blog again, I have a lot of catching up to do.

During the past couple of weeks, people have been visiting our legislators to ask them to de-fund the war and bring our troops home. Many have been arrested for not leaving the offices when asked. I have not participated for a number of reasons (and you will have to stay tuned to find out what they are), but I am grateful that people are bringing awareness of the need to stop this insanity.

"We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage." -James Russell Lowell

Thank you to troy, Alex, and the Blogger Team - my heroes.

I am NOT a computer person and am eternally grateful for any and all help with this .

Happy, happy, happy!

If this actually posts, I have some brainy people to thank for it.