Ah, the nervous system. I am thankful for the systems that keep us alive – yet this morning, mine has worn me out a bit. All Western dwellers, and certainly us Coloradans are on high alert this fire season. As of yesterday, 7 fires were burning across the state including the horrific Black Forest fire near Colorado Springs. What seemed like a wet spring has turned into a dry summer with conditions perfect for fires starting and burning out of control. Three weeks ago we were evacuated from our Evergreen home due to the Blue Bell fire that burned up the road for us. Most likely we were never in danger, however this year the authorities will be extra cautious as the deaths by fire count last year was unacceptable. We appreciate the precautions and went through that evacuation relatively smoothly.#limegulchfire Yesterday, in the middle of a lovely day spent with my brother and nephew, an email popped up from my Kuehster Road neighbors about a fire way too close for comfort to that already fire ravaged area. I felt the shock hit my system and as I carried my computer in to show David, my words turned to mumbles, and then to deep sobs. Last weekend, we settled in to that property even further by putting up a precious yurt with the help of dear friends. Planning to spend more time there this summer, our compound includes our trailer “Flame”, a finished shipping container made into a workshop for David, and now the yurt on it’s lovely perch. The couple days we spent enjoying our new dwelling were the most precious since our fire last year. The ground cover is returning, young aspen groves are popping up, the wildflowers are going crazy. What was once burned out and stark is being taken over by budding life. Still uncertain about rebuilding there, the yurt is our way to spend more time and try it on.
20 June, 2013 /
To those affected by wildfires – those who have lost loved ones, animals and homes, or still wonder what you lost as you attempt to gather the fragments of information that are beginning to surface – our thoughts are with you. There are no words that are adequate. I am sorry. It sucks. It’s horrific. It’s confusing and overwhelming. It’s all of that and more.IMG_0070 We who lost homes in the horrible fire season last year are with you. We feel your pain. We know the anguish. We wince as we read the news, see the pictures and smell the smoke that drifts into our burned up hills. We understand. We were there – and now we are further down this life-altering path. We aren’t far enough along to have forgotten anything – and truthfully – none of us will ever forget. We will remember that day forever. We will remember the sounds, smells and how it felt. The chaotic moments of evacuation – or of not being able to return to collect anything – will be etched in our minds forever. We remember the terror, the bewilderment, the not knowing, then the knowing. We wish with all our hearts that you didn’t have to go through any of this.
13 June, 2013 /
I am honored to be a part of the "Make the World Move" International website where people come together to celebrate life and share wisdom.  This article first appeared there on 5/2/13.  Please  check out the site: www.maketheworldmove.com As we walk into an open air restaurant on a small island in the middle of paradise for our first taste of civilization in 3 days since flying over to the Bahamas and commencing life on a sailboat, headlines splash across a muted TV screen and we stop in our tracks. Reggae music plays over the din of happy travelers sharing tales from the sun-soaked day and on TV we see images of people running, smoke plumes and the headlines: “Bombs go off in Boston at the end of the Boston Marathon”.
02 May, 2013 /
I sit this morning in the upper balcony of Papaji Satsang. On top of three story building it is surrounded by trees and covered with a Palapa roof and awnings. A small breeze blows through. The music in the air is of the Satsang singing chants, the honking of the horns, the banter of the lovely staff who are readying this place for our mid-day meal. I love the sound of their voices and their sweet faces have grown on me. Outside of this sanctuary we are surrounded by other parts of India - the grime, garbage, ribby dogs and cows that wander and feast upon the garbage, dirty children begging in the street, beautiful women wearing traditional dress in every color imaginable, men on motor cycles, smoke floating in the air. [caption id="attachment_794" align="alignright" width="300"] The lovely faces of India[/caption] To take it all in is impossible. I don’t even try as it is futile. I have heard people from the group scoff at those who say they feel at home here. I don’t feel “at home” as in this is my home but I feel surprisingly non-resistant and non-reactive to what I see, hear and smell. The funny thing is, that news or interactions from home rile me more.
14 March, 2013 /

“It’s a good day to die”, I say to my seatmate. Not my usual opening line but one I feel strongly about today. Tomorrow may be a different story, as normally, I am not a big fan of dying. A sense of peace and clarity...

06 March, 2013 /

Fingers to keyboard is my mantra for my new authors. Fingers to keyboard. And keep those fingers moving. And keep your eyes on the screen. Not on Facebook as I am doing right now...

23 February, 2013 /

A candle flickering, the sun rise turning the distant hill pink, Kirtan music playing on Pandora, a fresh cup of coffee at my side, my Mac warming on my lap – ahhh, the perfect way to start a morning. I have to peak between houses...

09 November, 2012 /

It happened to me. I didn’t think it would cause I was oh-so careful of where I clicked and where I spent my time. No oddly formatted links for me, no random sites, and certainly no strange games. No, I steered clear of the underworld...

01 November, 2012 /

As we settle in to our “new” (c. 1937) house in Evergreen the cracks in our foundation become more evident. Relief is here, all our stuff is finally in one place, and we are breathing some sighs of relief. Almost 7 months of living out...

27 October, 2012 /