While in the elevator a hotel usher guy was wheeling in a cart and I was cornered by the wall of buttons and had to push everyone’s floor buttons. I just giggled and kept pushing buttons. A minute of chit chat and these big sunny smiles. He asked how the weekend went and I said, I’m just so Happy, it was awesome, I’m glowing with it. He was like, Yeah, that’s awesome, I can feel it! And he left the lift.
Did whatever I was doing and then went back into the elevator to my room. Up a floor and there was dude again and a woman with a babe in arms. They both smiled as big as the world and looked at me. She asked, Are You The Happiest Woman? I smiled and looked at dude. She said, Well he said he just saw the Happiest woman a few minutes ago. Yes, that was me.
She said Amma’s happiness is contagious isn’t it? That’s right, it is.
Getting ready to drive back home to island and I just have to say the hotel transformation was incredible to witness. Haven’t seen any other Amma people, they are all in San Ramon now. But the hotel? In case anyone wondered what kind of event would follow hers? Well the conference rooms are full with another seminar, many groups and recovery centers here for: Behavioral Health and Addictive Disorders. AWESOME LOVE AND COMPASSION. Bet they don’t even know what went down here 24 hours before. Walked by the rooms and saw people smiling and hugging each other. Pretty Cool.
We made it! Jon raced and then sailed home and I met him at the dock, flew to the hotel and then he met us here at the Hyatt in Bellevue. Jon, Jonny and I went up for Darshan together!
First little man, then Jon and then I and then us all together. I just remember sobbing and having my hand on Jon’s back while she gave him Darshan. When I looked at her I was just crying so hard. I had these used up tissues and I kept trying to dry my tears for her. She stopped traffic! Asked for tissues and she washed away all of my tears, held me and said, My Daughter, My Daughter, My Daughter… I was thinking Mama, Mama, Mama, all I could keep saying to her was THANK YOU!
Then she dotted my forehead and Jon’s too! We stepped back dazed and all of dropped to our knees and dropped our foreheads all the way down to the ground.
Then be still my beating heart, both Jon and Jonny went for their Mantras!
SERIOUSLY BLISSED OUT!
*sitting during the Atma Puja, water was distributed to all who attended- there was a family of westerners seated in front of me. when the water was passed to them, they drank it immediately and it was just as they announced, “Please do not drink it yet.” The family gulped and looked like UH OH, then as if on cue, the next announcement “And if you drank it, That’s OK.” We all giggled.
A very strange thing happened yesterday. Met two friends at the same location, that I haven’t seen in 7 years, both from off island and they hadn’t met each other before. So it was like catching up on 21 years in 5 minutes. It was beautiful and wow and surreal.
Really enjoying spending a quiet weekend with everyone. The kids are awesome. Was able to spend time with each son this morning. Feeling the love. They are all so different but the same about certain things, they are very good to the women in their lives, respectful and their boundaries are solid. As brothers they are great friends.
My friend from the city and my son’s girlfriend finally met. Knew they would like each other. Yoga instructors. Heather, from the city, has known these kids since babes so it’s like a visit from Auntie. Having fun. Missing my daughter, but she’s having fun at camp with friends.
Currently Neptune’s Car is a bit further. The start there is slow, it’s in a place beyond the wind. Then nearer Race Rocks, wind. Once we went between them, literally between the rocks instead of going around. We were in the T-10, it was insane. Very windy and choppy and the rocks made it something from Pirates. Had to heel to not hit the keel. Weird tide and all that.
Last night he said it looked like it would be a Driftsure. That’s much more difficult. Once there was a year without wind and 2/3 of the entire fleet dropped. Jon was on the long course and finished on time. He’s like that. Separates him from the pack. It was sad and beautiful at the same time. It was something to just finish. In fact that year they gave him an honorary trophy for finishing on time, it was a Red Lantern. I think he crossed with 5 minutes left on the clock.
I love Neptune’s Car and her owner, he’s really a beautiful soul. What a gentleman. Spent some time on the boat with he and his crew and I just remember he had an awesome collection on his Itunes. We sat around singing Neil Young and The Beatles until I had to sleep. Our boats were parked together so I only had to walk up a ladder, over the side, one step on the dock and another onto our boat and back down the ladder to sleep. Good Times. And Actually our boats were tied together that year so I didn’t even have to step on the dock. Just up a ladder over the stantions and down a ladder, lol.
And Dragonfly, they are the nicest guys. We saw them at the Olympia Yacht Club recent awards ceremony. They have a very funny award. It’s for the Toliva Shoal race. During that race when someone runs aground on the shoals and has to DNF, they call it something, I forget. But what they do is give the boat an award that they have to keep until another boat runs aground during the race. Now I can’t forget if Dragonfly received the award or finally got to give it away to the next guy, but it was funny. If it could happen to them, it could happen to anyone. Seriously, that is Seattle’s hottest and fastest and most beautiful boat ever. Once during a race I saw them full on cartwheel. They are very hard core and the only boat ahead of them is Smoke and I know nothing of the vessle. Soon all the boats will separate more clearly onto different courses.
Confusing, ten boats, 3 divisions on the long course.
Neptune’s Car my fave, got the gun. An hour and 20 minutes or so in front, on elapsed time, AWESOME.
Across the finish line it went Neptune’s Car, Tatoosh, Rage and Korina Korina. 1, 2, 3, 4.
Tatoosh won the entire thing on corrected time.
Big Boats: Neptune’s Car, Rage were in Division 1. That’s 1st & 2nd.
Tatoosh was in Division 2, with Korina Korina & Hana Mari. That’s 1st, 2nd, 3rd.
Wasn’t watching division 3.
Dragonfly, my fave multihull, raced the Cape Flattery Multihull. First to round. First to finish. By nearly 3 hours.
Taking notes. For whatever reason I Netflix binged on Canadian twilight zone reality tv. Totally different presentation of monsters.
I have always been mortally terrified of sailing, but called it a healthy respect for the ocean and the sport.
There have been unexplained things floating around in my mind for a while. Then I saw those testimonies and I perked up.
Why do I love the water so much I would surround myself with it but not swim in it. Feel the same way about Crescent Lake. When I was little I saw Jaws and it changed me.
It was only watching this Canadian tv that I learned about the Elliott Bay Sea Monster. Full circle. One of the unanswered things happened to us while parked at the Elliott Bay Marina.
Unexplained things like sailing along and the depth sounder jumps around in the middle of the channel. Submarine? Who knows. Little things like that do add up.
Went sailing off shore post fukushima, storms, all night, the water lit up fluorescently with valella valella. The water was glowing. Maybe no one has ever seen that before. I didn’t know what they were when it happened, just what I saw them doing.
It was like putting together pieces of a puzzle. Only when I walked the beach in Oregon did I see them all washed up on the beach. They were missing pieces. It was two or three days after we arrived.
Each Valella Valella is a community. They are these marvelously designed ships. They light up. Way cooler than phos, but they had this cool thing going on with the phos. Just like a ship they have crew that do different things. But in a swarm storm they can fly. They would launch out of a wave and fly through the air above the trough and land on the crescent of the next wave. I’m no good at measuring distance. But I saw them flying in the wind. Lit up like fairies. Something like launching bottle rockets in a hurricane. It was like a yacht race. They were having fun. I don’t know what I saw but it was cool. It was electrical.
Here is a terrible audio but presents purple water and squished jelly fish. Those barnacles and muscles look like they are from the PNW.
Back to Cadborosaurus. Had an amazing flashback conversation with Marshall Sole. He gave me a file, need to fish for it. Something about tribal wars involving snake people.
Had this on my mind when I went down to the boat to see off the racers. A boat neighbor came by and we caught up on harbor stuff. Two new Seahawks. The ladder on the public dock, rusted almost solid and two of the steps broke away, kids have been cutting their feet swimming. We need to make some calls. Maybe it’s time for cameras.
Then I looked over and there came a wave, in a bee line to the boat. Pointed it out. No boats. Not a boat wake. Have seen it several times, that wave. Once a wave came out of nowhere like that and the concrete blocks on the dock jumped up about 2 feet and slammed back down, while three very little children were on the dock without life jackets. Ruled out a seal, it was too big. Summer day, out of nowhere. That’s what I was looking for, the wave pattern. That’s what resonated so deeply about the Canadian tv show. The wake pattern. Today my neighbor said there IS a fault line in Dockton. Who knows.
In Seattle when it happened Jon and I were sleeping on the boat. I have a hard time with it. Just this thin piece of fiberglass separating us from death. Very energy sensitve I woke up and walked and crawled along each side of the hull, placing my hand on the hull, feeling and listening. Made it up to the bow and pulled out my crystal. It’s like a dowser. Spun it and the bow ducked in such a way it woke my husband. This water displacement thing like a GIANT stepped off the boat. We raced up the ladder to the deck and no one was there. Then we saw the wake, leaving the marina, from the bow. It felt like something pushed itself off the bow from underwater. Thought maybe it was a seal, or a kraken with serious jet propulsion. To get the bow to do that, we would need about 6 people on the bow to jump at the same time. Still doesn’t make sense. Except that I could feel it. And it could either hear me or feel the energy from the crystal spinning? I just remember that I felt uneasy that whole sail, felt like we had picked up a hitchhiker in Tacoma. But that’s what the Canadians were saying. I don’t know, just saw the wake it was creating an animal was just under the surface. Not like a seal at all.
The soul of our beloved city is deeply rooted in a history that has evolved over thousands of years; rooted in a diverse people who have been here together every step of the way—for both good and for ill. It is a history that holds in its heart the stories of Native Americans—the Choctaw, Houma Nation, the Chitimacha. Of Hernando de Soto, Robert Cavelier, Sieur de La Salle, the Acadians, the Islenos, the enslaved people from Senegambia, Free People of Colorix, the Haitians, the Germans, both the empires of France and Spain. The Italians, the Irish, the Cubans, the south and central Americans, the Vietnamese, and so many more.
You see, New Orleans is truly a city of many nations, a melting pot, a bubbling cauldron of many cultures. There is no other place quite like it in the world that so eloquently exemplifies the uniquely American motto: e pluribus unum: out of many we are one. But there are also other truths about our city that we must confront. New Orleans was America’s largest slave market, a port where hundreds of thousands of souls were bought, sold, and shipped up the Mississippi River to lives of forced labor, of misery, of rape, of torture. America was the place where nearly 4,000 of our fellow citizens were lynched, 540 alone in Louisiana; where the courts enshrined “separate but equal”; where Freedom riders coming to New Orleans were beaten to a bloody pulp. So when people say to me that the monuments in question are history, well, what I just described is real history as well, and it is the searing truth.
And it immediately begs the questions, why there are no slave ship monuments, no prominent markers on public land to remember the lynchings or the slave blocks; nothing to remember this long chapter of our lives; the pain, the sacrifice, the shame … all of it happening on the soil of New Orleans. So for those self-appointed defenders of history and the monuments, they are eerily silent on what amounts to this historical malfeasance, a lie by omission. There is a difference between remembrance of history and reverence of it.
For America and New Orleans, it has been a long, winding road, marked by great tragedy and great triumph. But we cannot be afraid of our truth. As President George W. Bush said at the dedication ceremony for the National Museum of African American History & Culture, “A great nation does not hide its history. It faces its flaws and corrects them.” So today I want to speak about why we chose to remove these four monuments to the Lost Cause of the Confederacy, but also how and why this process can move us towards healing and understanding of each other. So, let’s start with the facts.
The historic record is clear: The Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis, and P.G.T. Beauregard statues were not erected just to honor these men, but as part of the movement which became known as The Cult of the Lost Cause. This “cult” had one goal—through monuments and through other means—to rewrite history to hide the truth, which is that the Confederacy was on the wrong side of humanity. First erected over 166 years after the founding of our city and 19 years after the end of the Civil War, the monuments that we took down were meant to rebrand the history of our city and the ideals of a defeated Confederacy. It is self-evident that these men did not fight for the United States of America. They fought against it. They may have been warriors, but in this cause they were not patriots. These statues are not just stone and metal. They are not just innocent remembrances of a benign history. These monuments purposefully celebrate a fictional, sanitized Confederacy, ignoring the death, ignoring the enslavement and the terror that it actually stood for.
After the Civil War, these statues were a part of that terrorism as much as a burning cross on someone’s lawn; they were erected purposefully to send a strong message to all who walked in their shadows about who was still in charge in this city. Should you have further doubt about the true goals of the Confederacy, in the very weeks before the war broke out, the Vice President of the Confederacy, Alexander Stephens, made it clear that the Confederate cause was about maintaining slavery and white supremacy. He said in his now famous “corner-stone speech” that the Confederacy’s “cornerstone rests upon the great truth, that the negro is not equal to the white man; that slavery—subordination to the superior race—is his natural and normal condition. This, our new government, is the first in the history of the world based upon this great physical, philosophical, and moral truth.”
Now, with these shocking words still ringing in your ears, I want to try to gently peel from your hands the grip on a false narrative of our history that I think weakens us, and make straight a wrong turn we made many years ago. We can more closely connect with integrity to the founding principles of our nation and forge a clearer and straighter path toward a better city and a more perfect union.
Last year, President Barack Obama echoed these sentiments about the need to contextualize and remember all our history. He recalled a piece of stone, a slave auction block engraved with a marker commemorating a single moment in 1830 when Andrew Jackson and Henry Clay stood and spoke from it. President Obama said, “Consider what this artifact tells us about history. … On a stone where day after day for years, men and women … bound and bought and sold and bid like cattle on a stone worn down by the tragedy of over a thousand bare feet. For a long time the only thing we considered important, the singular thing we once chose to commemorate as history with a plaque, were the unmemorable speeches of two powerful men.”
A piece of stone—one stone. Both stories were history. One story told. One story forgotten or maybe even purposefully ignored. As clear as it is for me today … for a long time, even though I grew up in one of New Orleans’ most diverse neighborhoods, even with my family’s long proud history of fighting for civil rights … I must have passed by those monuments a million times without giving them a second thought. So I am not judging anybody, I am not judging people. We all take our own journey on race.
I just hope people listen like I did when my dear friend Wynton Marsalis helped me see the truth. He asked me to think about all the people who have left New Orleans because of our exclusionary attitudes. Another friend asked me to consider these four monuments from the perspective of an African American mother or father trying to explain to their fifth-grade daughter who Robert E. Lee is and why he stands atop of our beautiful city. Can you do it? Can you look into that young girl’s eyes and convince her that Robert E. Lee is there to encourage her? Do you think she will feel inspired and hopeful by that story? Do these monuments help her see a future with limitless potential? Have you ever thought that if her potential is limited, yours and mine are too? We all know the answer to these very simple questions. When you look into this child’s eyes is the moment when the searing truth comes into focus for us. This is the moment when we know what is right and what we must do. We can’t walk away from this truth.
And I knew that taking down the monuments was going to be tough, but you elected me to do the right thing, not the easy thing and this is what that looks like. So relocating these Confederate monuments is not about taking something away from someone else. This is not about politics. This is not about blame or retaliation. This is not a naive quest to solve all our problems at once.
This is, however, about showing the whole world that we as a city and as a people are able to acknowledge, understand, reconcile and most importantly, choose a better future for ourselves, making straight what has been crooked and making right what was wrong. Otherwise, we will continue to pay a price with discord, with division and, yes, with violence.
To literally put the Confederacy on a pedestal in our most prominent places of honor is an inaccurate recitation of our full past. It is an affront to our present, and it is a bad prescription for our future. History cannot be changed. It cannot be moved like a statue. What is done is done. The Civil War is over, and the Confederacy lost and we are better for it. Surely we are far enough removed from this dark time to acknowledge that the cause of the Confederacy was wrong.
And in the second decade of the 21st century, asking African Americans—or anyone else—to drive by property that they own; occupied by reverential statues of men who fought to destroy the country and deny that person’s humanity seems perverse and absurd. Centuries-old wounds are still raw because they never healed right in the first place. Here is the essential truth: We are better together than we are apart.
Indivisibility is our essence. Isn’t this the gift that the people of New Orleans have given to the world? We radiate beauty and grace in our food, in our music, in our architecture, in our joy of life, in our celebration of death; in everything that we do. We gave the world this funky thing called jazz, the most uniquely American art form that is developed across the ages from different cultures. Think about second lines, think about Mardi Gras, think about muffaletta, think about the Saints, gumbo, red beans and rice. By God, just think.
All we hold dear is created by throwing everything in the pot; creating, producing something better; everything a product of our historic diversity. We are proof that out of many we are one — and better for it! Out of many we are one — and we really do love it! And yet, we still seem to find so many excuses for not doing the right thing. Again, remember President Bush’s words. “A great nation does not hide its history. It faces its flaws and corrects them.”
We forget, we deny how much we really depend on each other, how much we need each other. We justify our silence and inaction by manufacturing noble causes that marinate in historical denial. We still find a way to say, “Wait, not so fast.” But like Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Wait has almost always meant never.” We can’t wait any longer. We need to change. And we need to change now.
No more waiting. This is not just about statues, this is about our attitudes and behavior as well. If we take these statues down and don’t change to become a more open and inclusive society this would have all been in vain. While some have driven by these monuments every day and either revered their beauty or failed to see them at all, many of our neighbors and fellow Americans see them very clearly. Many are painfully aware of the long shadows their presence casts; not only literally but figuratively. And they clearly receive the message that the Confederacy and the cult of the lost cause intended to deliver.
Earlier this week, as the cult of the lost cause statue of P.G.T Beauregard came down, world renowned musician Terence Blanchard stood watch, his wife Robin and their two beautiful daughters at their side. Terence went to a high school on the edge of City Park named after one of America’s greatest heroes and patriots, John F. Kennedy. But to get there he had to pass by this monument to a man who fought to deny him his humanity.
He said, “I’ve never looked at them as a source of pride … it’s always made me feel as if they were put there by people who don’t respect us. This is something I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. It’s a sign that the world is changing.” Yes, Terence, it is. And it is long overdue. Now is the time to send a new message to the next generation of New Orleanians who can follow in Terence and Robin’s remarkable footsteps.
A message about the future, about the next 300 years and beyond: Let us not miss this opportunity, New Orleans, and let us help the rest of the country do the same. Because now is the time for choosing. Now is the time to actually make this the City we always should have been, had we gotten it right in the first place.
We should stop for a moment and ask ourselves: At this point in our history — after Katrina, after Rita, after Ike, after Gustav, after the national recession, after the BP oil catastrophe and after the tornado — if presented with the opportunity to build monuments that told our story or to curate these particular spaces, would these monuments be what we want the world to see? Is this really our story?
We have not erased history; we are becoming part of the city’s history by righting the wrong image these monuments represent and crafting a better, more complete future for all our children and for future generations. And unlike when these Confederate monuments were first erected as symbols of white supremacy, we now have a chance to create not only new symbols, but to do it together, as one people. In our blessed land we all come to the table of democracy as equals. We have to reaffirm our commitment to a future where each citizen is guaranteed the uniquely American gifts of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
That is what really makes America great and today it is more important than ever to hold fast to these values and together say a self-evident truth that out of many we are one. That is why today we reclaim these spaces for the United States of America. Because we are one nation, not two; indivisible with liberty and justice for all, not some. We all are part of one nation, all pledging allegiance to one flag, the flag of the United States of America. And New Orleanians are in … all of the way. It is in this union and in this truth that real patriotism is rooted and flourishes. Instead of revering a four-year brief historical aberration that was called the Confederacy, we can celebrate all 300 years of our rich, diverse history as a place named New Orleans, and set the tone for the next 300 years.
After decades of public debate, of anger, of anxiety, of anticipation, of humiliation and of frustration. After public hearings and approvals from three separate community led commissions. After two robust public hearings and a 6–1 vote by the duly elected New Orleans City Council. After review by 13 different federal and state judges. The full weight of the legislative, executive, and judicial branches of government has been brought to bear and the monuments, in accordance with the law, have been removed. So now is the time to come together and heal and focus on our larger task. Not only building new symbols, but making this city a beautiful manifestation of what is possible and what we as a people can become.
Let us remember what the once exiled, imprisoned, and now universally loved Nelson Mandela and what he said after the fall of apartheid. “If the pain has often been unbearable and the revelations shocking to all of us, it is because they indeed bring us the beginnings of a common understanding of what happened and a steady restoration of the nation’s humanity.” So before we part let us again state the truth clearly.
The Confederacy was on the wrong side of history and humanity. It sought to tear apart our nation and subjugate our fellow Americans to slavery. This is the history we should never forget and one that we should never again put on a pedestal to be revered. As a community, we must recognize the significance of removing New Orleans’ Confederate monuments. It is our acknowledgment that now is the time to take stock of, and then move past, a painful part of our history.
Anything less would render generations of courageous struggle and soul-searching a truly lost cause. Anything less would fall short of the immortal words of our greatest president, Abraham Lincoln, who with an open heart and clarity of purpose calls on us today to unite as one people when he said, “With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation’s wounds … to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”
Once upon a time during the Vashon Island Strawberry Festival… there were carnival rides, not anymore. And I think I know why. I still don’t think the rest of the island understands.
The community was chattering about how the carnival was not able to bring trucks onto the ferry because the driver’s didn’t have licenses. Tip of the iceberg. They lost the right to operate a moving vehicle, but it’s ok to operate a moving machine with child passengers.
One year I was uptown and watching the carnival set up. Over there a man was scrubbing rust off wheels and then spray painting them white. So I went out and asked him what in the hell was he doing. While I confronted him I said my children will not step foot on any contraptions. The carnie sent the owner over to speak to me.
So I asked him. Is it true you had to leave semi’s in West Seattle until you could hire local drivers to bring the rigs on island? Yes, it was true. I went to the local paper and they would not interview the carnival owner or take photos of the freshly painted wheels. So I said to him directly, My children will not step foot on any of his contraptions.
I spoke again to the local paper and instead of writing the story to inform the community, the publisher went to his funeral. The paper didn’t want to inform the community that it was the same carnival that had just left the island or that it had happened at all. The next year they brought that SAME carnival back, contractual obligation. Think about that. I think the publisher cared more for the reputations of the local business owners who brought them here, The Vashon Chamber of Commerce, than any of the communities children. Follow the money, honey. The Vashon Chamber of Commerce hired them. It’s not too difficult to ask who chaired the board when it happened. And ask if they knew, because they did.
Fast Forward to Port Townsend. Thank You Seattle PI for reporting this story. Unafraid to do so. I wish there was more information like: Where are the out of state permits issued? Is it true the owners need only to satisfy the state of origin safety standards and not local safety standards? Where is the carnival now? Were they shut down for even an hour or a day? Which city will they grace with their presence next? Do local emt’s or fire stations or law enforcement get to weigh in? No, they just clean up the mess.
Boat repairs finished. Went down and took a look. She needs new paint, new graphics. You can Really see where Alex hit that marker messing around. Cut it a little bit too close, lol. Jon doesn’t see any of that when he looks at her. Will have to wait until next year, there just wasn’t time, it rained a lot. Anyway he loves it. Can’t judge a book by the cover. Every year the underdog.
If people only knew who this boat is. She’s old school Admiral’s Cup.She’s raced all over the world. She’s getting older and better, looks more like the Millennium Falcon. 1/3 boat, 1/3 crew, 1/3 conditions.
Lots of tourists today. Even me. It was my first time on the newly finished ferry dock. Took a second to try and figure it out and Jon was like, what is going on. All I could say is, if the bus lane is painted bus lane, then the southworth lane should be painted southworth and the fauntleroy lane, same. There used to be two boarding lanes to west seattle, now only one. I don’t know how long it’s been that way, that’s how long it’s been since I’ve left. The only reason I left today was because Jon needed a driver to go pick up the truck from the boat yard. Everything from the ferry to the city was so different. All the condos. All the traffic lanes downtown on the waterfront along 99. And I’ve never seen a cruise ship parked downtown before.
The only thing that impressed me was the bow of this boat in the yard. There were like 10 long vertical 2 or 3 inch wide strips that were candy striped. The veneer left this cool palette when all the paint was stripped and then varnished clear over it and I just loved it. My eye followed the striping to the strip along the water line and there were little holes that were filled in and varnished over and that looked so cool also. I pointed it out and said, gosh just look at that, it’s so beautiful. He agreed. Parked near to that was the prettiest Thunderbird I’ve ever seen. He said it belonged to Jack’s brother in law. There’s only one Jack I know in the city related to sailing, the sail maker. So of course that would be one the prettiest boats in the yard. But the other, with all the woodwork, I’ll never forget how beautiful that trim looked.
Couldn’t wait for the dress to arrive by mail, what if it’s late?
So they went shopping for another. Then I checked the mail and there was the missing dress. Bounced all over the planet, lol.
She took both the dresses to go show Nana.
Jon and Tony are back from working on the boat, Tony’s crashing on the couch. Set his quilt out for him. 20 minutes later Tony called out to Jon. Jon that’s my quilt, my mom made it for me when I was little. Jon nodded, you left it, why don’t you take it with you. Tony was like, damn I’ve been looking for it for a few years now. Yup.
Tony said there were new pics of the cougar, it’s really buffed out and quite large. The bear is at shinglemill creek and yeah, at least two of the coyotes are down here on the south end. Check. Check. Check. So far no interactions with kids. Maybe the cougar and coyotes are eating up all the deer right? Well, hasn’t made a bit of difference in my garden. The only thing the deer won’t eat are the mint & they really don’t like italian parsley.
My doctor doesn’t prescribe it. Part of my wrap around care involved signing medical authorizations for a free flow of communication between my care providers. Everyone knew what prescriptions I was taking and my status in counseling. That also included a safety plan that took over four months to create that included the names and numbers of several friends. Even an authorization for my husband and best friend to call on my counselor with concern.
The only glitch that made things complicated was that our clinic closed it’s doors leaving me without my primary care provider of 19 years. My back up plan during that time was to seek care from an ARNP who visits the island twice a month. It was a very negative and scary time. With the clinic closed, the ARNP didn’t have access to my medical records. The ARNP did not prescribe Ativan either.
In fact the ARNP educated me on “bounce back” anxiety attacks. Apparently there is lots of new scientific evidence on this. It’s not just Ativan but the entire class of benzodiazepam. Not only can Ativan cause anxiety attacks, the anxiety attacks become bigger. In addition when more Ativan is taken the worse the bounce back.
Went to see her to discuss my desire to quit smoking. She refused to prescribe Chantix because she said it made her friends that weren’t suicidal become suicidal, so she prescribed Welbutrin and that messed me up for about 8 weeks. She knew about Ativan bounce backs and Chantix, but didn’t know about Welbutrin. Obviously during that time I relapsed into clinical depression and smoked twice as many cigarettes.
Thankfully our clinic reopened and I was able to return to my PCP to go back on Prozac for the winter, Celexa this spring. Still, was hospitalized in November and that’s when I finally met Gabapentin which circles back to Post Concussion Syndrome. Gabapentin checks off more boxes for me. Interesting to me that it was prescribed by a shrink, why didn’t my neurologist every mention it? . Better sleep equals higher quality of life. Somehow it also seems to act as a mood stabilizer, haven’t had any problems with back and neck pain and so I don’t need pain meds. Now I’m a tylenol girl.
My question is this: If an ARNP from Seattle and a country doctor from Vashon know about Ativan bounce back, why doesn’t the rest of the US?
I’m blaming Donald Trump for the burning crosses on the lawn statement Chris Cornell made last night. Chris Cornell could write about almost anything with superb articulation and sing it out in a powerful four octave range.
How are we as artists supposed to talk openly about this or write about it? Without further disgracing our country? There was a writer last week who wrote, Donald Trump excited his poor, rural, uneducated white base with openly racist fantasies.
His dark statements, last song, It sounded like an on stage suicidal ideation. Something he may or may not have even been aware of. I wonder how many people went to bed wondering if he was alright. It’s strange but it made me think of Whispers from Sense8. When a woman asks another, while they compare wrist scars, Do you know why we call him Whispers? Because when he tells us to hurt ourselves he never yells, he whispers it.
This tragic death also highlights the value of listing and covering Depression as a pre-existing medical condition. It raises many questions about how performance artists are able to manage this deadly disease on tour. Forget potentially deadly, Chris Cornell just died, for him it was fatal. What kind of resources need to be made available by the artists, managers & wellness teams. Exhaustion and stress I understand are part of the road, but something more could be done, those conditions can cause profound relapse. Being away from family and support systems, etc.
The counter intuitive part of understanding this disease is that depressed people smile all the time. Always putting up a front and as we age it can become very debilitating.
Prior to this when they have enough on a president and signal impeachment, public servant in chief steps down for fear of things like oh, National Security. Not this guy. He obviously intends to take us all down with him and by that I mean the whole world. Because we laughed at his stupidity and fake hair. The longer it takes the better, casts a big sticky web over his administration. Hopefully they can put it off till 2018 general election. Man I didn’t know he was HALF that insane. The most vindictive president in history. A danger to himself and others.
Organic Chicken Broth last night. Had some left over, made more Kichari. Did laundry. Called in Rx refill.
Gave myself the last b12 shot in the box. Used to ask family friends and neighbors to do it for me. Insurance doesn’t cover it. But it did cover this huge blood work up, tested all levels last year, results were awesome. It was an experiment to see if a b12 deficiency was causing depression or would help with it all really. No. B12 levels were nice and high and I went on another anti depressant.
Welcome Home Chelsea. Thank You for your service. Don’t look back.
Milo stopped by today. Asked my friend to just let him off leash. I took him into the woods and he got all his ya ya’s out so I could tighten up his harness. He really wants to engage with the dogs and little man, but not yet. He is still a crazy puppy. They live down the street, on the way here they had a National Geographic Moment. Saw two coyotes hunting a herd of deer, big coyotes. I nodded and said another neighbor cautioned me also about letting the kids play outside without dogs and adults. He saw two coyotes near inspiration point and remarked about how unafraid they were. But now they are a stones throw as the crow flies. Just two. For now.
Little man left the house today with me! Kind of a big deal around here. We went to the store. He wanted to go to Sandy’s to buy a burrito and use her microwave. Ok. Floated all concern. Sandy was so nice about it. I ripped it open and Jonny was like, MOM, you’re doing it wrong. Sandy took it from me, wrapped it in a paper towel, set it in the microwave and set the time for him. He watched the timer to the second, 5,4,3,2,1. Kind of a big deal around here, we are not microwave people. This is the kind of activity that would have never happened with my other kids and she knows it.
Sat down with the new menu from the restaurant across the street. I grimaced at the prices. She wasn’t having it. She says it’s better than any place uptown. So I promised to give it try the next time we have an occasion. She noticed my finger tips were yellow, Tumeric. Then she looked up my teeth and squinted. Right. Mental Note: Look in the mirror before I go out. Cilantro.
We got our flu shots in October. We still got sick, it wasn’t as bad, still moved round the bases. First my son’s girlfriend, she cancelled a visit last week, went home from work sick. Called my son tonight and he’s home from work sick also. Jon was sick with it last winter so I’m hoping it will skip over him. That’s 5 out of 8 of us. Began with slight neck pain, sore throat, landed in the chest, wet cough, then it died. Stayed way ahead of it with osha root honey and tylenol, lots of hot fluids & rest.
Some 200 people kicked off from it here in WA this season, vs over 2000 that died in 1918. 2nd wave or 3rd, not sure. It seems to level up each time, morphs, gets stronger. Loving the osha root honey, creates a sweat, stops this crap in its tracks. Just like 1918, Osha Root saves lives. Since I’m in bed already. Film day.
New discoveries reveal that the Anasazi tribe killed and ate their victims.
Denial is not being ready to accept to the truth. At least that’s what I think this morning. Called my mom to wish her Happy Mother’s Day and she admonished me. It must be heartbreaking for her, obviously or she wouldn’t have expressed her concern. When I spoke to her I made sure to put a warm smile in my voice. Who cares what it looks like, we’re all still standing. Whoops there is my tea pot, Love you, talk to you soon. End of call.
What I am happy about is that she’s been far enough away that she hasn’t had to visit me in the hospital. That would have really leveled her. Haven’t asked her help for anything, rides to medical appts, babysitting grandkids, laundry or meal prep.
Family & friends remember me one way and that’s what they want to hold onto. It doesn’t mean I’m obligated to live that fantasy so it’s easier for them to accept. Besides I won’t. That would waste my energy. That energy is best served in other ways, like getting serious professional help.
I understand that I am completely unrecognizable. It ought to make the disease easier to see. It doesn’t matter. If I wore a big cast around my head, it would be just as difficult to look at.
It could have been worse, I could be in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. There wasn’t a neck rest and my head was turned to the side upon impact, hit the side of my head on the steering wheel. What a blessing, could have been facing forward and given myself a free lobotomy. Spinal torque whiplash from my neck to my hips. Spent two years sleeping on the floor at the foot of my husband’s bed on a yoga mat.
I’m really having fun with little man, the other kids are adults now. He was so little when it happened. Yes little man has it too. It’s called childhood depression. It began with Rj’s suicide, he stopped talking for 8 months. This is very serious. It doesn’t mean I love anyone more or less or that I keep people near or far. Every kid is totally different. All have different aptitudes and they have unique qualities, goals, dreams, tools they need to get the job done.
So if my family and friends cannot understand this disease they can’t be expected to respect it. That’s the part that is dangerous, the ignorance. Because of it, people underestimate the disease. Big mistake. A very expensive mistake. It’s like a cavity, it won’t just magically reverse.
And so yes, there is something very wrong, to answer her concern. Yes, my son and I are totally living in a little rainbow colored bubble with purpose and intention. It is because we are both currently being treated for clinical depression.
Asked Jon to review this and add, edit or delete. Asked him if it answered her questions. I’ve given it a lot of thought. It’s just a few paragraphs but it took 6 hours. He said to keep working on it.
He said the word ignorance might be heavy. Ok, but the answer is still education. This family will be stronger if we face it head on. I understand that denial is about not being ready to accept the truth. I can educate until I am blue in the face, if my family isn’t ready to learn about it, well that’s something else and it frees me from having to take on their issues with it.
It’s this circle and I keep finding myself looping inside of it. I’m struggling to frame this in a way that’s easy. Isn’t it nice that my mom doesn’t have to understand to love me. Or that I can still love her the way things are. I guess if I could re frame her admonishment I would instead offer this, Is there anything I can do to help? The answer is the same. If I need anything I will definitely ask.
I chose the word ignorance because I had to work so hard to understand this myself. I know I sleep alot, I’m really brain thirsty for sleep. Googled concussion and heavy sleep and there is so much good stuff out there. Isn’t it nice to know that.
What an adventure. It began Thursday with Jon bringing in the boat from the mooring alone by towing it, due to dead battery. He was in a Livingston with a 2. kicker. How he manages doing things like that! He said 3 days prior he was stocking his tool kit and saw battery cuplinks and grabbed them. Excellent intuition. He was able to replace the battery pronto. Then he sailed to Seattle solo, including the Ballard Locks.
He called to say his phone was dying so please send someone to pick him up either at one location or another depending on how late the tower guy lifted the Ballard Bridge. He was too late and had to park the boat in a third location which made his pick up weird. He managed to walk somewhere to charge the battery and call to tell us where he was.
Friday he went back for the first lifting of the Ballard Bridge at 8:30am went to the boatyard and they were able to outhaul the boat on the spot for him and he worked all day on it. Saturday same. He called and asked me to find a repair shop for the prop, damaged somehow. Found one, it turned out being the go to guy for all the racers and worked out perfectly. He called back to thank me. It was just dumb luck that I found the guy.
When he came home last night, I was rocking myself by the fire. Little man bucked this cold or flu whatever, yesterday. He was sleeping peacefully and I remarked it was like a 3 day thing that he seemed to deal with in 3 hours. Looked up flu maps in WA and the US and found that a terrible virus ripped through schools in CA. Asked him why there isn’t a proper epidemic tracker map in 3D, it would probably look like a weather system and be a boon to working parents everywhere. His buddy was sick last week, right? Jon hugged me tight and kept saying thank you. Brought home flowers, a card and popsicles for little man.
This morning Jon left for the boatyard, brought me coffee in bed and said little man is sleeping peacefully, slept through the night, the fever did not return. He woke little man this morning and asked if he was in pain and if he needed anything- little man said no, he’s good. Slept all through the night. Happy Mother’s Day, gotta run.
On Sunday, former President Barack Obama received the 2017 John F. Kennedy Profile in Courage Award from the Kennedy Presidential Library Foundation.
In his acceptance speech, Obama reflected on those public servants who, in the face of opposition, hold onto their principles and somehow keep alive their resolve, he said:
“… To maintain a reputation for integrity that is stronger than a desire to maintain office, a conscience, personal standard of ethics, integrity, morality that is stronger than the pressures of public disapproval or party disapproval, a faith that the right course would ultimately be vindicated, a faith that overcame fear of public reprisal.”
Today I went from Al Jazeera to Sky News through Youtube live streams. What I heard and observed made me cringe. The current president is making a fool of himself, the office of the Presidency, the EPA, DOJ, FBI, the CIA, the NSA, the office of the Surgeon General-the US Census Bureau. (seattle slog says: He excited poor, middle-class, and rural white voters with openly racist fantasies. But even a very slim win was all Trump needed to begin the destruction or weakening of institutions that are structurally (and therefore inherently) democratic. One of these institutions is the US Census Bureau. It provides “data on where and how people live,” and “enables public policy to be more efficient,” and, most importantly, “count[s] heads to allocate congressional seats.” To the point: it has a demographic function with significant political consequences for the two major American parties. And so it is not a surprise that this institution is being attacked by Trump—an institution that will bear a lot of bad news for the GOP and its declining base in 2020.)
The world is laughing at him. A petty dictator from a country sans democracy. Cherry picking media bites of his infamous stupidity. Very damaging creating a complete and global loss of respect for the office of the presidency. His language, the inability to form or complete a sentence, his temper tantrums, threats he’s made to public servants. Calling them his subordinates. When in truth they don’t work for him, they work for the American People. The thing about it is, when the president threatens public servants, the president is in truth threatening All American People and by that, all the people of the free world. And yes, the world is watching with interest. What fodder. His actions- indefensible, reflecting only his weakness of mind and character.
…Googled Trump Impeachment: Donald Trump is reportedly facing a (fisa) sealed indictment, one that will form the basis for impeachment proceedings against the president and could result in him trading the White House for a jail cell. Wondering how that works, does someone show up and serve an arrest warrant? Here’s another one: Now, as the president sinks deeper into mental incoherence, his aggrandizement is annihilating his own political defenses. Bereft of wise advisers and surrounded by a mercenary family, the president seems lost in a wilderness of social media mirrors. Mental health professionals are concerned, to put it mildly. The man is obstructing justice in real time to 29.2 million people. He is building the case against himself. The president of the United States apparently cannot comprehend the consequences of his actions.
Pain upon wakening. Little man had a long night. Stuffy & congested and he tossed and turned and got up for a hot bath at 3am. Gave him some tylenol and he slept heavy for 6-7 hours. Woke with sore throat.
Pulled down my Osha Root Honey. Prepped it a year ago. Honey + Osha+ Sunlight= GOLD. Gave him little tiny, less than a pea size amount, three times. He likes the way it tastes, like flowers.
Asked what his pain level was when he woke, let’s say a 4 or 5. Asked again in an hour after tasting the osha honey, he says 2-3. Good. Hot fluids & rest and that’s game over for the sore throat.
I love Osha Root. It helped a lot today. The cold fought back a bit. Tylenol for body aches and fever reducer. Whatever it was, gone.
Let that sink in for a minute: the chief spokesperson for the president of the United States hid in the bushes, only to emerge after journalists agreed to talk to him in “near darkness.”
After Spicer spent several minutes hidden in the bushes behind these sets, Janet Montesi, an executive assistant in the press office, emerged and told reporters that Spicer would answer some questions, as long as he was not filmed doing so.
Showed up sick, that was stupid, mental note. I don’t know what I was thinking. The last thing an Ashram needs. My husband had to fly to meet me and drive me home, for surgery.
Anyway Swami Mommy sat with me for a while. Looked at me and asked me what I would eat if I were at home. I answered tea and toast. She nodded and asked someone in the kitchen to prepare some Kichari. Now maybe it was because it was an Ashram, maybe it was because it was Swami Mommy, maybe it was the recipe. All I know is that my lights came back on and I powered up again.
Everyone loves it around here when I prepare it. It’s only a few times a year, it could be a few times a week, I doubt they would tire of it. After a while it became automatic and now I can wing it from whatever is left over in the fridge. I always wanted to be like that, like my grandma. Actually, my grandma was a really tough act to follow and I have a long way to go. Everything she cooked was organic, farm to table style. Till then, I have Kichari.
Oh they hate us for it, we still love them. Backs up mail systems and then having to fish out the letter and recycle the bottle. Have to make sure it’s dry, have to remove the label, add stickers to address it and a postage stamp, snap. Or… these guys made it really easy with activist kits set to go.
Michael “Buffalo” Mazzetti, began bottling the water as a protest against a proposed Crown Jewel gold mine in Tonasket, at the same time took up a crusade against the General Mining Law of 1872, which allows mining on public land without payment of a royalty to the government
Barry Russell, president of the Independent Petroleum Association of America, said his group “looks forward to working with the Interior Department on a targeted, meaningful solution that will achieve the common goal of ensuring the American taxpayers receive a fair and equitable return in the form of royalties while developing a workable regulation, instead of this one-size-fits-all approach.”
Meeting with local group to write Thank & Spank letters. Note to self: Send Senator McCain a Thank You letter.