Tuesday, August 31, 2004

 
Yesterday my Maui lessons came in the form of a large Samoan man. Tony walked over to ask me for work from across the street where he had been working for our neighbor George. He was wearing his coconut climbing cleats on his shoes. He was about 6 foot 6 and weighed around 280 I would guess, what some might call an intimidating being. I was sweating as I worked with ferocity to clean the mess behind our house and our carport for our soon-to-be new tenants. I had asked our handyman (Sam) many a time (as had Bob) to help us haul away the mess left over from construction. Somehow Sam never choose to honor our work request for which we would have paid him well as we always do, and thus, as we had an ad in the paper for our rental, I had only myself to do the manual labor. There was a lot of work to do with a lot of heavy, heavy lifting required. I prayed. Lightly. Pray lightly is what the angels tell me. And surrender your desires quickly.

So when Tony approached me for work and told me he would haul everything away, I was thrilled to strike a deal with him. Tony and I negotiated, and eventually we came to a fair price. He left and returned with his wife to help him, an equally large woman, though not quite as big as Tony. Together they probably weighed close to 600 pounds. They sweated, huffed and puffed, and worked hard the next hour as they loaded all the debris on the back of Tony's truck. I felt very grateful that two such strong, capable people with a truck had arrived in the nick of time to help me out. I thanked my angels for their help in sending Tony & Kat to me.

When they finished, they both sat down exhausted in our papasan chairs. Tony wanted one of these comfortable chairs in the worst way, and through cagey negotiations, he scored one from me. He promised to return today to repay me for the chair with his labor. After he left, I noticed our good rake and expensive shovel were missing ( he had used them for the clean-up process), so I called his phone message machine and left him a message that he must have 'accidentally' put them on his truck along with the other rubbish. I didn't hear back from him. When Sam arrived to discover the rake and shovel were missing, he was very upset, no doubt because he had missed out on the monies as well as realizing that Bob and I were fed up waiting for him to do the work. He also was probably wondering how he is going to garden for us without a rake and a shovel. This remains to be seen.

Tony is avoiding me. I saw his truck pull up across the street at George's today, and yet he didn't come over to our home and make an attempt to return the rake and shovel, nor did he come to work off the papasan chair. Adding up the cost of the rake, shovel and papasan chair that I gave to him, I came out the loser in our negotiations. I'm wondering if Tony's conscience will finally get to him... and then one day I will receive a knock on the door from Tony returning the goods and attempting to be in integrity. Or will he always just keep driving by our home feeling guilty or not guilty as the case may be if he's a sociopathic Samoan? Angels and lessons it seems comes in all matter of disguises.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

 
Women of a certain age. What can I say, but that I am. Not really old. Not really young. Certainly smart enough to know that it no longer becomes me to aspire to be things I am not or dress with my midriff revealed as is the style today with so many women in their forties and fifties who also happen to have great abs. I am working my way through the mid-life crisis period as gracefully as I can muster. I still feel enormous assuredness even in my middle age, and I haven't embarrassed any of my beloveds lately by having an affair with a twenty year old or drinking too much tequila and having some chick give me a lap dance as I hear others my age have been reported to have done. I'm no prude either. I like others to have fun, fun, fun. This prequel is necessary to write what needs to be said about the next part of our journey: this is the Hell part to the Heaven 'N Hell Tour.

I had always wanted to stay at the Hard Rock Resort & Casino in Las Vegas just to see what it was like. When we travel to Las Vegas, we most often try different resorts, just for the sake of variety. Thus far, we have stayed at many different ones during the years Bob and I have been travelling there. Each has its plus's and minus's, and all have been trippy in their own respective surreal Vegas ways. Bob likes to gamble, and I like to spa and shop. This makes us a happy couple because we both get our pleasure kicks. Thus it was that we arrived at the Hard Rock Resort on a Sunday. Little did we know that this was the day when the biggest pool party in Vegas happens, and all the locals as well as who knows who shows up to participate in this pool party meat market called Rehab.

We checked in early and happily got our room right away. This was when we were informed by the front desk clerk that we wouldn't have to wait in line for the Rehab because we were hotel guests. Rehab? Wuzzup we wondered? This was news to us, but as it turned out, this pool party was named such by some satirical wacko for it was the biggest drunken affair I have ever witnessed. I never made it to one of those events that you see on tv called Spring Break. The closest I have ever gotten to Girls Gone Wild is seeing the ads for the video sales on tv. And I have always wondered about these people and their revelries. Now I've had a chance to see what Spring Break looks like up close and personal by being there! Our room looked out directly on the pool, and the party outside didn't shut down until 8 p.m....and then it moved inside into the casino and clubs and kept going all night long. When we checked out early the next morning around 5'ish to catch our plane home to Maui, the place was still buzzing.

By the end of the night, the hotel halls gradually became filled with blankets and took on the appearance of a funky college dormitory. The music from the pool party blasted through the walls and fried me. My sensitive system was wasted, as if the lechery, revelry and drunkeness outside penetrated through the walls and no amount of talismans or "Clear" aromatherapy or light armour could stop this energy. When we first arrived, Gen and I took a quick spin around the pool party to check it out, and we were met with so many leering, lusting looks that we said 'No Way Jose'and retreated back inside. At that time, there were more guys than girls, and had we been young twenty somethings looking for quickies, we would have had good odds. However, in our quick study on our tour, we were overwhelmed by these 'party' energies, and neither of us were into that. At different times when we went back up into our room, we peered from the window and the writhing throngs of young 'uns mingling, drinking, posing and cruising... always cruising. So we had a perfect picture perfect view of what the ritual of Spring Break must be. Looks like Hell to me, and I figure I haven't missed a thing. It took me this long to know that for sure.

When you see the Girls Gone Wild ads, you wonder about these young girls. At least, I do. I saw similar young girls at the resort, obviously very frisky and/or drunk and on drugs in person nearly butt naked raming their rear ends against their men in the middle of the casinos, in the hallways, elevators. Truly, these girls ARE hedonistic, wild and working it. From what I observed, the GGW videos speak to the truth. Woodstock, Haight Ashbury, Boulder and other such places weren't quite this lascivious I don't recall. Yes, I remember nudity, but not to this sportive, exhibitive extreme. The times have changed from idealistic nudity to exhibition.
 
Is anything ever what you expect it to be? Especially trips and/or vacations? They seem to veer off course and have a life and direction of there own, much as the recent Hurricane Charley. Sometimes these fateful changes can be delicious and rewarding and worth a mound of gold for every unexpected surprise detour. At other times, they can be challenging, shocking and eye-opening. For me, just back from a 12 day journey to the Mainland, I would say that I experienced a little of both. I will nickname it my Heaven 'N Hell Tour.

The reason for the vacation began nearly a year ago when I read on the internet about a special event/gathering in Morrison, Colorado called the Celtic Cauldron. The theme of the event was to explore the relevance of the returning Tuatha de Danann (Dana)energies to the world. I had an intense desire to attend this event, and so I began organizing the trip with two other people in mind, my partner and my daughter. Getting three people organized to travel together is a toughie, not even taking into account airline timetables and prices, accomodations and so on. But I did it with the always available help of the angels and off we flew to our first stop, Las Vegas.

Adjusting to the pace of the mainland, the frantic energies and particularly Las Vegas was my first hurdle. Ok...good enough. I took along my arsenal of items to assist: my Tesla Philip Stein watch, my aromatherapy titled "Clear", my necklace medallion to repel negative energies and so forth. I was prepared, having traveled and throttled by these chaotic energies from prior trips. This first leg of the journey went fairly well, but there was one oddity that struck us. Has anyone ever had a taxi driver that refuses to lift a bag in and out of the trunk of the taxi? This was our FIRST experience as the driver folded his arms and commanded Bob to do the lifting of the bags in and out of the taxi. Gen and I were shocked as Bob meekly and efficiently did so...and then Bob EVEN tipped this arrogant, lazy taxi driver, much to our amazement. Was this taxi driver an off-duty lounge-act hypnotist testing his skills in the real world Vegas? Were there hidden cameras watching us and observing our reacions? Very mystifying!

The first day in Las Vegas we made our ritualized rush to the China Grill at the Mandalay Bay Resort. The crispy spinach on the menu of this restaurant is to die for. We were the second group to be seated because Gen and I were frothing at the mouth for this famous delicacy and couldn't wait. Everytime we visit Vegas this restaurant is the first thing on our minds. The gorgeous restaurant is never a disappointment, and the spinach serving is as succulent and sensual as any dish I can recall. I have a jones for this crispy spinach as apparently do a lot of others. What do they put into this dish? I have tried to recreate it at home using what I imagine might be the ingredients, but my spinach turns out to be soggy and limp. The waiter told us that people come back again and again for this famous dish...imagine a journey to Las Vegas for food! Yes, that's right, and one of the main reasons why Vegas isn't just Sin City anymore...unless lusting for spinach is termed a sin in the fine print on the lists of sins. Shopping and food are the main reasons for me to even want to put a big toe into this energetic mud pool of a city.

The second reason for the journey was to determine if there was going to be sizzle or fizzle with a man that my daughter has been corresponding with on the net for many years. She knew this lovely man many years ago when she attended art school in Denver. His 'pros' are huge, and the hopefulness we all shared for a union with J. and G. was immense. Quite simply, Bob and I imagined him as a possible future son-in-law. He offered to let us stay with him the first night, giving Bob and me one of his bedrooms and gallantly sleeping on his couch and letting Gen take the bed in his master bedroom. He cooked us a delicious dinner and took Bob golfing the next day at one of the best golf courses in Denver. All good! EXCEPT...HOWEVER...BUT: these are the words everyone knows from the reality shows on television that something is NOT quite right. And for me, the moment I pulled up to Johnny's apartment building which was an old building in a shabby part of Denver and walked into see the red-flocked wallpaper and tacky entryway with plastic flowers, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Gen could never be with a man who would accept such a living condition. The stark reality of how others live set-in with a ferocity. Horror! We found out that J. was one of the few young people living there, and most of the people were retired oldsters. His apartment/condo that he rented was just as scarifying as the lobby. Dust everywhere...yukky decor...plants dying....even the cactus looked like it wasn't going to make it. As a poignant reminder of life, J. had one pitiful tomato plant growing on his deck. Quite obviously, the man was depressed.

Gen and I knew it was going to be a very LONG five days for her as she had already obligated herself to spend the time to explore the sizzle/fizzle factor with Johnny.
I slept fitfully that night on the lumpy bed provided as did Bob...it was almost as if we had cold water dowsing us both. Our dreams for a union for the two had revealed themselves quite clearly to be pipe dreams. Reality crashed in hard. No wonder this great'catch' of a guy hadn't been caught! I imagined the moment that women saw his apartment they ran for the hills. However, as a good houseguest, I decided to clean his place while the boys were out golfing, the least I could do after having written on his dusty television screen in my mischevious fashion: "Clean This!" The next morning Bob saw the writing on the dusty televisin screen as he turned on a sports game. Johnny never noticed, or if he did, he didn't feel like cleaning it. It's one of the saddest things in the world to see a divorced, depressed, overworked, lonely, underpaid, kind man.

After cleaning his place somewhat (I refrained from throwing out the fading red Christmas bow that was decorating the dying cactus), Gen and I drove to the Cherry Creek shopping mall, supposedly one of the upscale malls in the Denver area. Once again, the sense of unreality struck us hard. For all the world, the mall looked like a cardboard cut-out stage front for some movie set. As soon as we walked into the mall and were surveying the layout of the mall printed on the large screen, a kindly security officer straight out of central casting approached us and asked us if he could assist us. Gen and I felt like we had dropped into the "Matrix" movie set, and we couldn't shake this feeling all the time we shopped there. The only comedic relief was when I decided to have a wash and blow dry by a hairdresser that didn't have a clue. Seriously. As my daughter watched with increasing panic, this hairdresser transformed my hair into a frizzy gigantic mop at the same time he was giving us his home-boy rap about the years he spent defying the fat Samoans on Oahu.
We left there barely able to contain our laughter, and we rushed to a department store bathroom to do damage control on my hair. We continued our journey through the Cherry Creek Matrix Mall observing the weirdest things: in the pricey Neiman Marcus store, there was a gathering of make-up artists/cosmeticians working en masse on around forty women.

Bob and I left Gen behind with Johnny and journeyed on to visit our old friend Shanti who had moved off Maui last year and had settled into Boulder, a college town known for its drunken party students. Lucky for us, Shanti had made reservations for us at a motel on the EDGE of town. I had already done 'my time' in Boulder when I lived there during my hippie days in a commune. In those days, Boulder was a 'happening' place, like Haight-Ashbury. I picked up a large free magazine outside one of the health-food stores that prosper in Boulder, and I was amazed at all the alternative practioners advertising their wares. I suspected that many of these were the old hippies that had discovered their path and had meandered into careers after graduating from their hippie years. Like Maui, Boulder is a place for healers and those that need healing...a meeting place for reciprocity. We ate with our fingers at an Ethiopian restaurant that evening, a restaurant that Shanti is very fond of. The cooked vegetables are laid upon a soft bread which you pull off the sides and swipe up the vegetables in the center. Very Boulderesque.

The next day we headed for the Rockies and our reservations at a fine Beaver Creek lodging. The plan was for Shanti and Bob to play golf every day while I hiked, did the spa-trip, swim, read, shop and meditate. And this was the part of the vacation that truly lived up to my expectations. Beaver Creek is one (if not THE) of the most upscale ski resorts in Colorado. You enter the village through a guard gate with a security attendant that gives you a paper to put on the dashboard of your car. The tall flagpoles flying with the flags of many countries line the roadway as you enter the manicured grounds of this posh village. Everything spells Money. The hotel attendants are super nice and friendly. The accomodations, spa and restaurants are gorgeous. At night there is an ice rink in the middle of the village filled with skaters of all ages. The sense is that you have been twirled over to a quaint European village. Even though Beaver Creek is super quiet during the summer months when we visited and is primarily a winter destination, we enjoyed the fairly empty swimming pools and the easy availabilty of restaurant reservations. We enjoyed watching the red foxes that make B.C. their home. One evening after a long hike, a red fox came out to enchant us and do a roll in the grass right in front of us in a playful way. This was the closest any of us had ever come to a fox, and we were all expanded with this connection.

Bob & Shanti golfed every day at a different golf course, one of which was the highest golf course in the North American continent at nearby Leadville. They were snowed on in the middle of August. Each night we dined at another fabulous restaurant. Mirabelle was totally charming. Their Grand Marnier souffle for dessert was one of the best I've ever tasted. I loved it so much that I wolfed mine down and finished up the one that Bob & Shanti shared as they said it was much too rich for them. The Riverwalk shops (one of the main shopping areas for the Beaver Creek crowd) were way overpriced but typical of the prices in this elite neighborhood. These shops in the nearby Edwards township were where I was stuck for many hours one day as I had dropped Bob & Shanti off at a golfcourse down the way. I shopped because there was nothing else to do until they finished their golf game, and this spell of shopping finally finished me off shopping forever....well, almost. My eyes were agog at the prices on the items they displayed. Where did they get their nerve to charge these prices for goods that were clearly not worthy?

One day the three of us sampled the vapour caves near Glenwood Springs, a drive down the I-70 freeway westward. The underground natural formation had been discovered and utilized by the Indians in former times and was being used as a local spa. The grey-walled steamy caves had many nooks and benches to sit upon while inhaling these vapours. Little pans were provided to fill with cold water from a hose to cool yourself down when the heat became too much. Then one by one we padded upwards to cool air and lounged in the calming solarium to await our massages. I chose a massage that was invigorating and relaxing at the same time: an aromatherapy salt scrub. We were all relaxed and had that wonderful Rockie Mountain High, a wonderful high that makes you feel peaceful, giggly and convinced that all is right with the world. We drove home to the exclusive Beaver Creek, and for awhile, all was perfect.

The next venue was the seminar and Denver while Bob and Shanti headed northwards towards Estes Park. I drove by myself through a blinding rain storm to the Holiday Inn where the conference participants stayed. Gen joined me in the afternoon after Johnny dropped her off; I listened while she explained to me that he wasn't the One. Love and chemistry is a funny thing and certainly not within our logical control. In many respects, Johnny had so much to offer and share, and Yet, But, However! Those three famous words that define that something is missing between two people! Gen has more frogs to kiss before she meets her Prince, and who knows when that will happen?!

That evening we drove to the home where the conference was to be held, near the bustling village of Morrison. In our written instructions it said to park down the road because there wasn't enough parking space near the house.Unfortunately, the rain was pouring down upon us...we didn't have an umbrella...the red dirt driveway was full of deep puddles, and by the time we entered into the house, Gen and I were thoroughly drenched and our feet were covered with red mud. Even though we were fifteeen minutes early, the circle on the floor had already been filled-in with people who glared at us. No one rose to greet us, and when we tried to squeeze into the circle, one of the three workshop leaders, a lady, hissed at me to move away from the spot we were struggling to squeeze into. So Gen and I tiptoed back into a corner of the room behind the circle where we could find a place. Were it not for the kindness of one participant, Erin, who offered to move to open us into the circle on the floor next to her, we would have been totally shut out. This was certainly not an auspicious beginning. The generosity of the 'dana' energies that the main workshop leader wrote so eloquently about in his last book were not present to be sure. Gen and I felt this horrible feeling that you get at the first day of a new school where everyone else seems to have already formed their little cliques.

Gamely we attempted to merge with the group, and except for a few of the younger cute girls, we were unable to do so...and certainly not for our lack of aloha. The negative energies flowing our way from some of the thirty or so participants kept me dabbing on the "Clear" aromatherapy and putting on my auric armor. Since Gen and I are very strong 'sensitives' and are used to the aloha spirit, we were really quite appalled at how the gathering was being conducted by the three leaders. None of them ever greeted us personally and thanked us from coming from afar to join them. I didn't take this personally, as I observed they didn't greet or thank others either. Their false egos and sense of self-importance were much too large for their knowledge, teachings or sharings. A pity. I was disappointed, even though I really should have known better, having seen this behaviour in all too many gatherings and so-called high mukety-muck spiritual teachers who really need some serious humblings.
Afterwards, Shanti said in his own funny way with his Indian wordings: the group is "way too baby for you". Genvieve said that I taught her this stuff when she was seven years old. Oh well. Lesson learned again. C'est la vie!

I had taken my monies and credit cards and placed them into a safety deposit box at the hotel. I asked Gen to give me hers too. She thought she had given me everything, but when we decided to bail out of the bummer of a seminar and collect our goodies from the box, Gen realized that she had left her Master Card in her wallet in her purse. That was when the light went off, and she realized it has been lifted from her purse sometime during the gathering. So she had to call the credit card company and alert them to the fact that it had been stolen. I called the main lady where the gathering was taking place and left a message about the missing credit card. To this day I have yet to hear back from her acknowledging our departure from the conference. Sad to say, but there are lots of jealous bitches, egotistic leaders and unfriendly people out there in the world. It's my great good fortune and discernment that keeps them away from me the majority of the time.

In the next installment of this blog, I will write about the next leg of our journey.










Monday, August 09, 2004

 
I have dubbed my daughter "The Hamburger Psychic" because she is particularly tuned-in and flowing with information when she is eating a hamburger. She claims that the hamburger helps her to 'ground' so that she doesn't get 'fried' when she links up with the information source that works with her. Last evening as the three of us dined on hamburgers at our favorite sports pub on Maui before going to the movies, we marvelled once again at Gen's psychic gift!

Gen will suddenly announce that she is ready for questions, and so while she eats her hamburger (and between bites), she answers our questions, mostly from Bob. She is uncannily accurate about information, dates and people. Since Bob has so many decisions to make that he has been puzzling over and so many important business deals up-in-the-air, he was eager to hear what she had to say. Because her delivery is so confident and detailed, he pays her the greatest respect.

I remember the first time that she announced her gift to me. We were sitting in a restaurant in Scottsdale, Arizone, and she suddenly announced that she knew a lot of things. She was in grade school. So I said, okeydokey...tell me then! And so she began spilling-out all this information about people, places and things that your average gradeschool kid wouldn't be privy to or even have the languaging for. I was even more amazed that she was so casual about it while she munched away at her hamburger. She made quite a number of predictions, all of which came true. On top of her ability to tune-in and answer questions, she is also a prophetic dreamer. This gift also came to her when she was in gradeschool. She would draw me a picture of a place that she saw in her dream, and then lo and behold we would visit the place the next day or meet a person that she saw and had drawn.

She never charges for her gift, and many of her friends come to her for counseling and insights that she shares with them. However, the BEST way to really see her 'do her thang' is to buy her a hamburger at a noisy pub/restaurant and let her go to town. This is when you will see the amazing "Hamburger Psychic" in action!

Thursday, August 05, 2004

 
I am currently reading the latest Marion Zimmer Bradley book "Ancestors of Avalon", and for those that don't know the name, MZB became most famous for her first book "The Mists of Avalon" followed by three others....and now this, her latest book. As the dust jacket states, "This much-anticipated new istallement of Marion Zimmer Bradley's beloved Avalon saga tells the dramatic story of the ancestors of Avalon, from their life on the doomed island of Atlantis to their escape to the mist-shrouded isle of Britain."

As I am reading this book, I am getting chills on the similarities between the Atlantean existence prior to the volcanic eruption and the life we lead here on Maui. Both are Paradises. Both depend upon imports to keep 'Paradise' functioning, and without imports, it would be hard-pressed to survive. Both Maui and fabled Atlantis were volcanically active, and even though our Haleakala hasn't erupted in nearly 200 years, it STILL potentially could. Even now on Big Island, Kilauea is still pouring forth lava, and an island underneath the surface that has been building from the lava flow could within my lifetime finally poke its head above the water and be the next island in the Hawaiian chain.

The message that Spirit has been gifting me lately hasn't come from merely one book. I also received a phone call from a friend that is an activist on Maui and who is working to prevent GE contamination over here in the islands. He wanted to inform us of the film that he would be showing at a local hotspot (which is normally a dance club) about the future of food.

So between this book where the characters have to go back to basics and eat tubers, seeds and meat in their new home of the British Isles and this man's mission, I have been giving some thought to FOOD!

Many years ago I became familiarized with the concept and book of "Living on Light", through the writer, an Australian woman. She had promoted this truth: that we can live without food and water if we so choose to. She had done it as had many others that had gone through this strict initiation. I know several friends that had done her program and had survived with not too much misery. There are people in Europe that facilitate this barrier/breakthrough/transformation as others undergo this abstinence from food and water.

What would it be like, I wonder, if suddenly many of us were to be put in the position like those in the Sudan and other such starving countries? Would we be able to make this sudden shift into living on light, or would we starve? How would we manage to survive if we could make the shift and yet watch others starve around us? Could we inspire others to believe that food and water isn't necessary for life?
These are just some of the questions I am contemplating on this vast subject matter of change that is coming into our lives whether we like it or not.



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