Hourglass Heirlooms? Eyes that see

Sadly or perhaps gratefully I have at long last reached that awkward stage in life where I cannot see with my glasses on (I wear progressive lenses) or with them off. Therefore, I am constantly carrying them around with me and panic like crazy when I misplace them. (No I will NOT get one of those god awful chains to wear about my neck... I still have some pride you know lol). I have been fortunate not to truly need glasses until now, given the fact that histoplamosis took the vision from my left eye when I was 12... nearly 43 years ago. Therefore, I have always been acutely aware of how precious our ability to see clearly truly it.

A friend of mine, Vickie Stadtler is an extraordinary artist who paints beautiful "muses" out of water color and oil which, in my opinion, are breathtaking in their exquisite detail. Her eyes and hands apprehend a visual catalog of a woman's daily needs with astonishing attention to subtle nuances. Artists especially hold sacred the sense of sight.

"If only we could pull out our brains and use only our eyes to see" said Pablo Picasso. Oh, how I do agree with him. My daughter once quipped to me that where she thought the Grand Canyon was pretty.. it was really nothing more than a hole in the ground. Yet, I never tire of going up there to see the absolute beauty of God's creation or the palette that Nature uses with her shadows of light.

Matisse doubted his own powers of perception and worried that the authenticity of his art was nothing more than a quirk of nature: cataracts. Because he had trouble with his eyesight, he wondered if the unique way of seeing the world which he captured for posterity on canvas in painstaking single brush strokes might be more accident then nature. I beg to differ Sir Matisse... there are no accidents and God guided your hand.

However, when Georgia O'Keefe, a sensual painter of flowers said "in a way nobody sees a flower really, it is so small we haven't the time -- and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time"; I think I finally understood the value of sight.

You see dear reader, it takes time to see and the majority of us do not have the time. Sadly that is the unrelenting truth and it chills me to the soul. The majority of us have been given a miraculous gift; the gift of sight, but we seldom if ever take the time to do more than glance around. We take this wonderful sense for granted. So, today, please take time. Make Time.

Today, REALLY look around at your world. Look at your family, your home, your pets, your co-workers, and the strangers you pass on the street. Smile at EVERYONE you meet because you CAN see them. Never forget that the gift of sight was so important that when this world was created, the first real creation was light in order to see. We need light to cast shadows upon growth and miracles. We need light to see all that is good.

Then we need to be ABLE to see how good it is too.

HOURGLASS HEIRLOOM
Lenses from her bifocals
will be ground into sand.

Then they can sift through a
perpetual glass prison
in an hourglass heirloom.

Upon death,
the living grind glass
and add vision to the timepiece
so the rest of the chain
can see glints of stray light
and insight from
ancient eyes
that flash into
young pupils.

Each contribution
lengthens time
as each old ghost
lends a hand
to the living.
©Bonnie Pike 2001

Moonbeam Fae

Written for My Jessica (8 months without her)

Hopefully,
enough was imparted in you
to plant a fragrant garden
of love and promise.
You are my true angel-seed.
My Morningstar.

This is our spring,
where white lilies
dance at our feet,
and butterflies
kiss our eyelids.

I will hide you in safe places
where the sun shines through
shady trees, and moss grows to
soften your bed.

I will persuade magic fae to sing to
you lullabies from Avalon,
and watch as dew caresses your
lashes while you slumber still.

And as languid passes of
moonbeam fae drift above us,
I will await the flutter of my
princess Morningstar, and the
break of a new day.

You were right little one
I can't exist with out you...

Battling the Dragon

I have been battling cancer in some form since 1993... And I do believe that those who have been battling or riding this dragon for many years must surely have a sense of its presence that is different from those newly diagnosed or with fewer years experience. I don't know, perhaps I am wrong in that belief but here goes anyway...

It occurs to me that when cancer first is diagnosed that it is a challenge to know that the illness is cancer. I know from family experience and work related experience that some can't even say the word for a few months; a few never say it. Some become angry and feel that they have been betrayed, because they think that they don't deserve to be saddled with that monster.. Some have expressed anger at the Universe for permitting them to have cancer. Some have told me they are angry at the world. Some even stay in a posture of denial that it's not really cancer, and that it will all be made well, or it will be discovered that it was a mis-diagnosis. This sort of delusion has been observed to last for several years with some.

Still, some others just accept "the death sentence" and die. (In recent months I have learned that some "outsiders" in my life have thought that was what all cancer patients did do and possibly should do HA!) Please let me clarify, however, that not all who die have given up. There are too many whom I personally know that have died in spite of everything that could be done by them and for them, emotionally and medically. Still others have died because they lacked support; that need for human touch, compassion, companionship, love.

All in all, it seems to me that we have to accept the fact that cancer is not an immediately solvable illness, but it's more nearly so than it has been at any time in medical history. Recently I have read that those with spiritual faith have a better time of it than those who do not. One of the remarkable pieces I read was to the effect that when people pray for those with cancer that those with cancer improve, even if they don't know there are people praying for them. In the prayer circle I belong to, I have seen the truth of this more than once. Blessed be!

It seems to me that more practical people, those who don't accept the "death sentence" as soon as they are aware of the diagnosis, first try to find out everything they can about their own cancer. I know this occurred with my significant other when he was diagnosed with prostate cancer as it has occurred to me with each and every diagnosis including my most recent. This has a number of benefits for the patient. One important thing it does, it permits the patient to be "more treatable" than a person who chooses to remain uninformed, or a person who is in denial. The process of learning has not ended for me since my first diagnosis and due to the changing knowledge that is available, it probably won't end in the foreseeable future. Several times now I have "beaten" the odds. I shall beat them again with this new diagnosis.

It impresses me that the first time a medicine or a medical procedure is tried it is not perfect. We all benefit from those who have preceded us in the cancer journey before we were diagnosed, and those who come after us will be benefited by our experience. This is true both from the medical standpoint and from the patient's understanding of the nature of the disease and how to manage it. Neither we, nor our physicians are to be held accountable for perfection. Not even the Universe itself completes everything in perfection.

In the cancer experience, learning about other people, their fears, strengths and concerns is a continuous process. Just learning about them gives us a sense of compassion for them, and helps us relate to them in a way in which only humans are capable. We don't shoot our wounded. We try to comfort and strengthen them. In some way which I don't understand we take on their hurts in such a way that they are made easier for the ones who are suffering. It isn't a masochistic manipulation of the relationship, but an opening of communication that says we understand. That consciousness of understanding gives strength to others without weakening ourselves. I believe it really makes all involved stronger. I know it has done that for me.

In the process of learning all we can about our disease, all we can about others and their problems with cancer, we begin to learn more about ourselves. We learn that we have capabilities that we did not know existed. We have become, because of cancer and our associations with others in the same boat, equipped to comprehend some things that we were not equipped to comprehend before our diagnosis and before our association with other cancer patients. I have said more than once to friends, that I am not foolish enough to be thankful for cancer, but I am thankful for some of the lessons it has taught me. I think I know myself better now than I did almost 20 years ago when I was diagnosed with my first cancer.. Thankfully, I truly believe I am a better person in some ways. My physical condition is considerably less desirable than it was before I was first diagnosed, but my spiritual dimension has grown.

I have condensed this concept to say; "First we learn all we can about our disease, then we learn about others, and in the process we learn about ourselves". Maybe that's true.

It would be foolish to think that a person could ignore known science and treatment and think himself/herself into wellness. It is also foolish to think that known science knows everything there is about cancer. The medical community is growing in scientific knowledge. We, as human beings, are also growing in our self determination by realizing that a positive approach to life benefits us in our treatment. A positive attitude may not cure the disease, but it goes a long way toward curing the person. Those who know me understand that I believe it is mental attitude, love, and spirituality that are the ultimate healers, but medicine must come into play as well and, sadly but gratefully, it is to come into play AGAIN.

My internal healing abilities are enlarged by my hugging another whom I have come to love and by telling others that I love them. This happens more and more with cancer patients. Now it is easier for me to accept the expression of compassion and love that comes with the physical touch than it was before cancer. I am more able to accept the need of dependency on others. It's an acceptance of what others feel, and I hope that I will never be callow or negative toward those who express something words can't say, in this fashion. It was a little surprising to some of my physicians to get a hug from me as the patient, but I have related to them as close friends. Add to this that I was, once, almost unhuggable except by a child.

Because I am a writer, primarily a poet, writing helps me define things that I think about and I encourage other patients, their significant others, their children, extended family and even friends to write down their feelings and doubts and fears. None is too dreadful for us as patients to examine, even if we don't do it for others. It does us good to express ourselves, even if it is just to ourselves. When I was pursing my psychology degree, one of the things we were advised to do when we became counselors was to have our clients "do some creative writing on that subject". Sometimes, when verbal communication fails (as it often does with this writer), it is the best way of expression and of healing.

Dialogue is a matter of receiving from others and giving a part of ourselves to those with whom we converse. It is my desire to never regress to the point that I am afraid that exposing my thoughts and feelings will make me less in my own eyes or in the eyes of those who hear or read what I happen to say. It is my desire that others will not be lessened in their self-concept by what they communicate, but will discover the joy of greater realization by "some creative writing on that subject".

When we read... we must never take things out of context but read the whole and accept the simplest things the writer may convey... and then feel what it ultimately means to us in the greater scheme of things.



blessed be

Loving an Addict (Poem for my new book)

LOVING AN ADDICT
(for my DJ, my forever love )

A strong wind blows
I close my eyes in the sting of
Pelting debris
A funnel forms too close
But doesn't touch the ground

A couple of rattled windows
Threaten to burst
My heart
Waits

My life is not the only one at stake
If it was, I would risk it all
Wait until the calm returned

But there are others
Younger, more innocent
Dependant on my resolve
To protect the sanctity
Of a home fought and paid for

Inside I feel ripping
Muscles that will strengthen
In the face of this
If everyone lives to tell

When to let go
And run like hell
That is all that remains

New Design at the On Line Store

Shadows of Love on line store has a brand new design for t-shirts, gifts, etc. Head on over to shadowsoflove.com, navigate to the store tab and take a look around.

Entropy Laughing

Sharp superstition fingers of sun shadow
creep steadily across the desert floor.

Bare feet stumble hastily over nature's
haphazard patchwork: a stitched together
blanket of bruised volcanic rock.

Trembling toes grip the frigid night soil
as stinging eyes wander delicately over
the contours of a sinister yet inviting dry wash.

Overhead the mangled trees creak,
the canopy a tortured swirl of limbs
and snakes that the taunting ocotillo
have sewn together in a writhing knot
of entropic defiance.

As the perspective shifts
the brooding sky above
shrinks into a pale turquoise dot,
only held into place by the sun's
wistful nuclear exhalations.

Strong rope-like fingers
weave through a slipknot mind,
coaxing forth natures order
which sporadically flares in life giving hues
like a sputtering eternal flame:
fitfully oxidizing methane
from the earth below.

Dreams burrow like desert ground squirrels into
the oval windows of consciousness.

Rise to the top.
Rise to the top of the devoted love,
surf the bleeding waves of fear and longing.

The artist must aim their only weapon
towards the universe's hungry heel
(forever staining the dark cosmos
with splashes of righteous indignation and awe).


The hallmark vibrations of the universe
guide our drunken rhythms step by step,
eventually leading to the intoxicating movements
that distinguish this brutal dance of the living.

Oh, the brittle brilliance of a mind
held up on chopstick stilts,
of a mind that reaches deeply
into the sea of writhing photons
only to pull out the wistful
sound of entropy laughing.


Strong rope-like fingers
weave through a slipknot mind,
leaving the tattered cloth of need
hanging down in battered strands.

These are the staggering heart wounds
of consciousness, proudly displayed for all to see.

Dreams burrow like desert ground squirrels into
the oval windows of my brain.


Like a quark caught in a sandstorm,
i am a slave to this slaughter house imagination.

Out of the long-haired sky,
with its immutable roots of gray,
come the dreamscape machines,
wickedly blooming across
the black-drop skies of the
interstellar void.

Oh, the brittle brilliance of a mind
held up on chopstick stilts,
of a mind that reaches deeply
into the sea of writhing photons
only to pull out the wistful
sound of entropy laughing.

Home is shelter,
the mind a prison.

i feel it in my backbone.
i scratch it into my skin:
the soft breath of a trillion outstretched stars
is the flame in which i burn.

A Book Signing

Bookmans Entertainment, located on Country Club Rod in Mesa AZ is hosting a booksigning for my new book Shadows of Love on April 30, 2011 from 2 - 4 P.M. Please drop by to visit with me and maybe obtain a signed copy of the book or sign up for a raffle for a free gift. Looking forward to seeing you!

Dark Days

The majority of the time, despite the cancers, the major upheavals in the world so many fronts, and the loss of my beautiful granddaughter in my life due to pettiness and ignorance, I can still maintain the understanding and belief that the Universe is a wonderful place and in spite of it all, I truly have everything I need. On other days, much like this past weekend, it seems almost impossible for me to meditatively quiet down my wants -- or my fears. Lately it seems I have far too many unfulfilled desires and dreams and I am sick and tired of waiting for change, and peace (or even a good job) to manifest themselves.

Sadly, it is apparent that dark days have come to us all in some way shape or form. Dark days. Those secret saboteurs called depression, anger, and fear are all working to effectively (but only temporarily) derail us from our progress but each day truly does offer us a gift if we are only willing to look for it. There are those days when we are sad or confused for very clear reasons such as being unemployed, the death of a loved one or worries over money and health. Other times, those reasons are not quite so clear and that leaves us feeling even worse. Well, unlike some of my contemporary "counterparts" in the world of psychology who cruelly will tell you to "Get Over It!" I will tell you "feel it". There are millions of different people in this world and millions of different reasons for feeling depressed, confused, or angry such as : the appalling lack of appreciation not only by others whom we have loved and protected but by ourselves, the advent of something as simple as the flu or as devastating as cancer, or simply a part of one's own personal process of transformation.

Despite my poetic nature, I am also very much a realist and will not tell you that spiritual or creative growth is smooth, predictable or without pain. Far from it as a prior post dealing with the dark night of the soul explains so well. Fay Weldon stated this fact quite well when she said "All the best transformations are accompanied by pain. That's the point of them".

I also believe that growth, personal growth, comes in stages of two steps forward and one step back mixed with long plateaus when it seems as though nothing is happening at all. However, nature shows us in the passing of her seasons that a dormant period ALWAYS precedes a growth spurt. However, during the dormant period is when we most often become depressed and think about giving up... I am currently in such a period... "a winter of discontent" as it were.

It is on days like this that I can barely get myself dressed and out the door to work. I feel like hell and look it but I also could care less. The laughter of children sounds distant and my voice sounds shrill. My patience level, normally so high, is at an all time low. Life seems very bleak and without promise. It is taking far longer to discover my true niche in life but now I am no longer sure I even want to find out.

Sound familiar dear reader? If we are honest, it should. So, when dark clouds hover, what should we do besides holding on and riding out the storm? I feel I have one of two choices. One, the easy one, if to simply give in, stop resisting. I have the blues and so I will sing them baby... Yes, this lady has the blues and will write poetry and song to them. But, before I do, I will ask for grace and blessings. Then, I will have a good cry. Perhaps I will leave work early or take another day off from work. I will let myself take those needed naps now. I will indulge, without guilt, in that bowl of Spumoni or that piece of peach cobbler and I will do so slowly... savoring all of it. Perhaps tonight I will prepare comfort food for dinner and then soak in a hot oil bath finally slipping into that big bed Tom bought for us, snuggling down in the covers and writing five things for which I have been grateful for this day.

Or I may take my second choice and kick the blues right in the ass by shifting gears. Again I will ask for grace and blessings and then call upon good friends and talk. I will put the kettle on for a fresh pot of tea. I will wash my face, comb my hair, put on my makeup, perfume, and jewelry and smile at myself in the mirror. I will straighten the living room so that I can feel the order I love. Then take a walk around the block or in the desert just to clear my head.

No matter which route I choose, or you choose, within 24 hours the day will be over. Tomorrow should be better but if it's not (nor the next day, nor the next), then it is okay to ask for help from friends, a support group, a therapist, a doctor, AND your Higher Power. Ask!

Dark days come to all of us and yet these discouraging days bring with them a rainbow of opportunities when we can be kind to ourselves and to each other. Believe it or not, today offers you a hidden gift, if you are only willing to search for it.

(For Jessica)

""" you are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when I feel blue"
you will never know dear
how much I love you
Oh don't take my sunshine away""""

I can but dream; Objective philisophy

There has been so much activity and growth in my life these past few weeks; all of it propelling me forward in some way and not all of it pleasant but definitely necessary. All of it sending changes shuddering through a fragile frame supported by a strengthening mind and will. The release of my new book, Shadows of Love, which I had contracted to do back in 2002 but which various twists and turns in life kept me from completing until this year, the unnecessary angry backlash and lies perpetrated by children I gave every ounce of myself too, the counseling sessions to let this fear of cancer pass through me and try desperately to accept this damaged body for what it is, changes in my work and in my hopes but not in my dreams and the ability to return to one of my favorite past times reading... and oh the books I am reading.

Two books that I completed that have sent my feelings of patriotism, freedom, safety, survival and devotion reeling have been “The Fourth Turning” (written back in 1998 but whose historical line of facts is leading us to what we are now in The Fourth Turning) and a book of fiction based upon serious scientific and military fact “One Second After”... have made me understand the reality that my family (my children and grandchildren) will ultimately live in a greatly changed America and a terribly altered world. Sadly, and yet with great gratitude, I will not live long enough to endure the sadness of this reality but I am left fearful and saddened for their welfare, their safety, and their peace. The latter book, so well written and supported by current facts has left me fighting nightmares in what was once a dreamless sleep. I dream

Book three which I am now more then midway through is Ayn Rand's absolute master piece of fiction based upon the philosophy of Objectivism and her own life as a survivor of Russian Revolution, has me on the edge of my seat and relating so very closely with one of the main characters Dagny... I love being so engrossed in the written word again as well as able to acknowledge the fact that it is through literature that our very existence is preserved. (Perhaps this little known poet will also have that effect one day in the distant future. I dream.)

I have never been a "survivalist" in theory but when I look back on my life I truly have been one hell of a survivor and I am determined to survive until cancer calls me home. Given these tumultuous times, I have decided to start preparing for what I am certain will be some sort of revolution (and not the good kind). Our current socio/political climate, the dumbing down of our society through our public education system and media, the decline of our social mores, neo feminism, and the growing threat of socialism and communism leads me to objectively see a path to our own self destruction... unlike anything 60s activists can even fathom. So, I am beginning to set up provisions and to make plans to hold out through all of this and perhaps protect my loved ones... I dream.

Silly? Oh to some minds perhaps but given history (of which many of my readers know I am always studying) I know I am NOT suffering from paranoia… nor are many of us. Hopefully I will never have to utilize any of these safety hatches but I am no longer that naive. Nor do I believe for one second that the people of this once great country would react with the dignity and social concern of the Japanese as they face the total destruction of their country and economy due to Nature's wrath (NOT GLOBAL WARMING!!!). Americans are singularly a selfish society... and it will initially be every man for him self until we learn… if we learn. I think we can learn.

Will we learn? Every 230 to 500 years the Pacific ocean bottom is torn asunder and these tsunamis happen. Every 200 - 500 years countries and governments tremble, fight, convulse, and fall. We are in this time frame now and too damned stubborn and/or ignorant to learn from history, accept it and plan for it. I wonder what makes humans such supercilious creatures? So proud and haughty. All the organized religions claiming to be humble and following a spiritual path and thinking that for one instance any of it can actually control God/Goddess and Nature? We are foolish beings are we not? Why can’t any of the “modern generations” see that this talk of Global Warming and “Going Green” is nothing more then a way to control material goods and create a government controlled form a capitalism (that is what they are doing). When nature has had enough of the selfishness of mankind, she will do like she has always done in the past, simply shake us off of her back like the fleas we are and begin again.

We have been involved for well over 235 years in one of the greatest experiments of all times and we have held the prestige of the world as a truly Democratic Society… based upon the right to strive and exist. We have lived under one of the greatest documents EVER written by man, the United States Constitution and we knew great power, wealth, and justice… (knew being the key word.) Over the last 20 years and in particular the last 2 all of that is crumbling and oft times with the aid of the Elitists in power who want nothing more then to create a working class poor they can control because, after all, most of us are too stupid to know what is good for us.

Sorry… I read (EVERYTHING) on both sides of the coin and I know I and the majority are NOT too stupid to govern ourselves, to work hard to make a good life, and to respect our forefathers. Ah, now perhaps that is the word that is missing; Respect! Something to be earned but not easily given.

I respect my parents (despite our differences and in some cases the wrongs), I respect the wisdom of those more educated and experienced then me, I respect the rights of different religions and peoples and lifestyles to exist and to pursue all of their goals to the best of their abilities, and I respect our constitution. I respect the family unit. I respect.

I dream of the day when this respect returns. When history is actually taught again. When we sit down as FAMILIES at the dinner table, without the TV, Radio, or video games blaring in the background , and talk about our d ay and our values. I dream of the day when we take walks again or sit out on porches and patios with our friends and neighbors and join in keeping our neighborhoods clean and safe. I dream of the day when good hard earnest labor is something to be proud of, no matter what the calling. I dream of returning to the days when children were taught to respect their elders, their neighbors and where the village ultimately did raise the child because, as in Japan, it was about the over all good of the world (not money or power) the transcends all evil and want.

I dream.


ARE THE COWS PLAYING BASEBALL: ©Survive the Shadow Stalker, 2002)
When will Mandela’s war be won
And Martin’s dream come true?
When will equality exist?

When cows start playing baseball

When will a hungry world be fed
And naked bodies clothed?
When will the homeless find shelter?

When cows start playing baseball.

When will abuse of children end
And the pain of parents heal?
When will innocents be believed?

When cows start playing baseball

What’s that in the distant field?
A mist covered, bovine figure
Chewing gum and sporting a major league baseball cap.

Maybe the cows really can play baseball>


I can but dream.

Dancing As Fast As I can In A Superficial World

Every woman recalls the date of diagnosis.She’s memorized the sledgehammer wordsthat pulverized life’s familiar patterns.Exact phrases vary, but four words carrythe pronouncement nobody wishes to give:You.Have.Breast Cancer.Shock catches the breath.Disbelief stuffs the ears.“I have WHAT?”Outside, the world continues serenely in its maddening normalcy.Within, the mind struggles to wrap around this inky nightmare.Her entire world has blown apart.If or when she glues the pieces back together,the image is never the same.

I know I will forever avoid mirrors
and can't stand to be touched.
At least, not there
the image is not the same.
January 2007


Almost daily we are inundated, by the media, with the victorious, happy smiles of “survivors”. Having worked the special Olympics for many years, running the first successful program for mentally and emotionally disabled cub scouts in Pensacola Florida, working with AIDS patients, and being and activist for Epileptics, I myself have been caught up in the happiness of “overcoming disability or adversity”. I loved seeing the happy faces of each and every survivor and the tears of happiness in the parents, relatives, and friends and on lookers who urged each one forward to the “winning line”.

I have cheered as I have watched amputees run in marathons, felt encouraged by the sight of the wheel chair Olympics and parapalegic basketball games, helped to lead horses who bore the precious burden of a child with spina bifida or autism, and felt overwhelming gratitude and pride in a service member who gave a part of him or herself so that we, as American’s could continue to be free.

I have held the hands of AIDS patients, brought to their knees by the specter of death who, to the world, showed that they were strong but whom at night cried into my lap or just sobbed as I held them against my chest and gently rocked them as we spoke of a life ahead and beyond. I have taken care of bypass patients and transplant patients who face(d) each day with great strength while inside they were/are pools of pain and tears. I have witnessed the pain of those with rectal, colon, prostate, liver, and pancreatic cancer as they move through each day trying to be normal but inside knowing they cannot be normal again; while the outside world admires their courage and urges them forward. And now I know the reality of how superficial we as a people truly can be… for we see only the outside of the “survivors” and I think that is because most of us truly can not bear to see what is occurring to them within. Perhaps, that is because each of us knows that "there, but for the grace of God, could go you or I”?

I have walked through this world with epilepsy, aplastic, various immune diseases, and never let it see that I was ill… and everyone applauded when they found out or learned; because I never showed a sign. I survived years of childhood physical and sexual abuse and have tried to remain peaceful and loving and giving and forgiving. I love the people who raised me and hold no anger. I know that, they too, had their own pain. Hopefully, I have helped other such survivors learn to do the same? I have been called an inspiration because I could get down and break dance with the floor and get back up and do a full days work like nothing had ever happened. Or faced untold transfusions, never knowing if when I went to sleep at night I would wake up. I have never regretted these lessons taught for they are what made me who I am today but I am no inspiration and never wanted to be.

I was diagnosed with cancer three times back in 1993 (blood), 1995(throat) and 1997(breast) and never felt daunted. I was diagnosed with breast cancer, again in 2006… losing both breasts in 2007. I have fought throat cancer again, melanomas on my face, and a new growth near my liver. The reality of what is occurring both inside and outside has taken a tenacious and vicious hold and I can’t shake it lose and I am ashamed of myself for the weakness and what to me is self serving sorrow.. I have struggled to hide it and am failing... growing ever more despondent. But why?

We here so many stories of the strength of survivors; but we don’t want to hear about the weakness. Who of us would actually turn into a “Life Time” or “Hallmark” movie entitled “How I wished for Death After My Mastectomy instead of “Why I wore Lipstick to My Mastectomy”… or “Phantom Pain of Lost Limbs is Eternal and Drove Him Insane”, or “Suicide after Miscarriage?” NO ONE. We only want to hear the positive outcomes… we don’t want to hear or see the negative impacts of life’s tragedies. We want, no we NEED happy endings. We are a superficial society hell bent on stripping people of emotions that are destroying them inside because they might cause others pain and that would be selfish… We are a society that tolerates grief but puts a time limit on it.


Prior to going through this mastectomy, I was one of these people who did not want to really “see” or “hear” (DESPITE having worked with real life people who could no longer hold up the façade in private with their caregiver that they could hold up with others in the outside world.) I went along with the pattern of “surviving with grace and class" as the ultimate goal and look how it is done with such courage and strength. Fucking Bullshit!

Yes there is courage and grace in surviving (I have experienced it, witnessed it and rejoiced in it) but there is also abject loneliness, loss, and pain which we as a society do not want to acknowledge or simply leave in the hands of our mental health professionals; and as a once upon a time PAC Care Giver and now a post mastectomy/reconstruction patient, let me tell you they are doing a piss poor job! We want to put the negative and the painful in a dark closet somewhere and not see it except for those rare times when it finally beats down the door and comes out screaming and raging like the wounded animal it is. Personally, I am too worn out to scream and rage. (aren’t we all breathing a sigh of relief for THAT )

Now, we may catch a glimpse in those made for TV docudramas about some of the pain that is behind the survivor but they don't even touch the surface. Just as a war veteran never leaves behind the war, post traumatic stress is a constant part of these people’s lives as well and in some cases will prove even more destructive then the disease which impaired or maimed them from the beginning. And this, as I have learned, does not just pertain to the patient but to the families and significant others that try to help them but honestly can’t handle the pain ; many are in pain themselves. Perhaps that is why Hospice has become such a wonderful agency for the terminally ill as it alleviates the pain of the dying and their loved ones?

I wonder if we could set up such an agency for those living with permanent disabilities or disease? An Agency, staffed with people who provide emotional support, who will not come and deny the pain, the loss of self, the loneliness, or the spiritual wasteland. Who won’t try to make the patient feel better because they feel they have to fix the pain when nothing really can. Just someone who will let the pain and unhappiness exist and not be judgmental or superficial. Who will see the scars and see they are UGLY; they ARE UGLY and that is okay for they are a road map of survival. Who can understand the phantom pain that reminds the patient of a lost limb now buried somewhere or incinerated in some hospital basement. Who can deal with the emotional let down from constant discomfort that wears on the nerves daily. Who can hold the hand of those now physically or sexually dysfunctional and allow them to be mournful of the loss of a part of their humanness, their sensuality, their independence; their sense of being capable and grownup and responsible, desirable, and viable.



What would we call such an agency? How would we set it up? To be used, not like a support group (with other’s of a kind) but as an honest refuge with people not afflicted with a similar “survivor issue” but who can accept those afflicted for the real them. Where the superficial holds no weight. Where it is not how you appear to the outside world that counts but how you appear to self and spirit that holds the meaning. Where you can go to cry and people will be there to listen, knowing they can’t fix you but that it is okay to not like what you have become. It is okay NOT to be strong. Kind of like a PAC care giver… who can be called at the drop of a hat and be there. Just be there and NOT try to fix it. Who will accept the person's feelings and not chastise them, or call them dramatic, or add to the pain by telling them to get a grip or by pointing out how "good they look" or quoting religion. Difficult prospect..

In dealing with this mastectomy, I learned that I am not a strong person at all… but a lonely, frightened, child who needs a refuge from the world. My sense of self was stripped away in its entirety. Yes, I tried preparing myself for all of this prior to going through the surgeries and reconstruction; but nothing prepared me for it. Nothing! I have struggled for 10 months to accept what was done to me, kept up the walls and am now crumbling at an accelerating rate.

I have learned that people don’t truly write about the realities of the pain, that the loss of breasts is handled as well as it can be, in this day and age, but still seriously glossed over and treated superficially (let’s not even discuss the lack of support for male breast cancer patients). I am certain that this is felt with every journey between medical saviors and the survivors of their mediations but I can only understand it through the loss of breasts and the reconstruction with silicone that is hard and unforgiving and burns like a smoldering fire.. Knowing that there is no way out of this body now or away from this disfigurement and discomfort which will be with me until my death, I think I shall try to write about the reality of it from BOTH sides, and most of it is NOT pretty or comes with a Happy Ending of living happily ever after. I know there will be no happily ever after and just have to deal with it minute by minute. The truth is surviving for some simply comes with living and trying to get through each day the best you can with hopefully someone holding you at night and letting the real you show (tears, bitterness, sorrow, and all)… the real you that is not superficial and does not give a damn what the world sees but how the: survivor” feels inside; in the heart, the mind, and the soul. An honest, non superficial journey through breast cancer. Perhaps I will find a publisher?

Reality shows us that we are not just bodies … there is more then just surviving to the outside world. My eyes are opened and I shall also treat these people (who are now my peers) even more tenderly, more openly and with much more patience then even I once did before January 18, 2007. I now know what they feel like when they get up each morning, greet the day with thanks, and face an unforgiving world. I know what they feel when they get home and shut the world out behind their living room or bedroom doors. I have now walked a mile in their shoes; the problem is, like the “red slippers” of fable, I can’t take the shoes off and I am dancing as fast as I can.


The one thing I know for sure, and that I shared with my only daughter a few months after the mastectomy is this: if she came to me tomorrow and said "Mom, I have breast cancer and they want to do a mastectomy." I would tell her to run like hell... and live her life as a whole woman and enjoy the time she had in the body the Universe gave her. I will never condone mastectomy to anyone after dealing with the realities as I know them...I just have to learn, some way, to live with it myself now until the Goddess calls me home. I have to find that path that leads me back to those I love as complete as I can... and not cause anyone harm. "First Do No Harm"... the path of a pagan.

First Contest is ending soon!!!!

The drawing for our first winner in the Shadows of Love bi weekly contests will be held on Monday morning March 14 and a new contest will begin that day. If you have not already done so, head over to the contest tab on the shadowsoflove.com web page and submit your form today. Then check out the on line store which is where many of the prizes will be drawn from.

Come back often as more designs will be added to the store on an ongoing basis.

Also, drop me a line and please let me know what you think of my new book.

Happy Reading!

GENTLE EPIPHANIES OF DIVINE SACREDNESS

When I was a young teen (some may remember that somewhat strange blonde haired girl that smiled seldom and spent a great deal of time by herself), I would wander about Mount Albion Cemetary and Saint Joseph's Cemetary, visiting the older graves and taking the grave stone's rubbings. I used to have some beautiful ones that I did in charcoal and then I would go home and write about the people I "met" there but never knew. It was a wonderful way to understand the past, the present, and hope for the future.

Visiting old cemeteries may seem morbid to many, but it is, truly, very illuminating. They are so still and silent. So quiet. Old cemeteries, in particular, remind us that until it is carved in stone, realizing our heart's desire is possible EVERY day that we recognize what it is that makes us happy. For me, happiness cannot be found in things... but in my family, children, pets... love.

Some of you may remember the movie (taken from the play) "Our Town"... to my younger readers, if you have not seen this movie... I highly recommend it. I know it may be simple and a little slow... but it has such meaning, particularly in these difficult times. In the play Our Town (by Thornton Wilder) a deeply moving scene takes place in (you guessed it) a graveyard. Spirits have come to comfort the main character, Emily, who recently died while giving birth. Emily, who still longs for the life she was required to leave, wishes to revisit just one single ordinary "unimportant" day in her life. (How many times have each of us thought or said aloud: "what I would not give to have just one more day back when or with....". When Emily is granted her wish, she realizes how much the living take for granted. (Oh how much we do take for granted, don't we?)

Eventually, this visit that she longed and prayed for simply becomes too much for her to bear. Mounrfully, Emily confesses to the Spirits that have accompanied her that she did not realize all that was going on... that we never noticed. " Good - by world. Good-by, Gorver's Corners... Mama and Papa. Good - by to clocks ticking... and Mama's sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new-ironed dresses and hot baths... and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you."

I don't know about you, but I have realized, particularly over the course of these last few years, frought with cancer, financial and family upheavals, and dramatic changes in our country, how much I take for granted in this beautiful world of ours. I was often too caught up in the needs of society and the cares of the world to enjoy all that is actually available to me. Just as new parents, we are generally so caught up in the care and upbringing of our children that we don't take time to really enjoy the special moments of childhood... laughter, love, spontaneity, immagination, etc... and we lose those qualities in ourselves as well. I was never truly a child, most of my friends and family often times state that I was "born old"; think I will make up for it in the time the Universe gives me now. Do you want to come and play?

Currently, I am in my own spiritual season of Epiphany, when the renewal of light and revelation are celebrated. No matter what the faith, all human beings seek everyday epiphanies.. occassions when we can experience the Sacred in the absolute ordinary. In doing so, we come to an awakening, as the character Emily does, that we cannot afford to throw away even more more "unimportant" day by not noticing the wonder of it all.

I have learned that I have to discover and then appreciate those simple moments of happiness that are available to all of us every day. I revel in the beautiful sunrises of an AZ morning... and I love going outside at night to see Orion (where I believe my beloved Doug resides) hanging directly over the front door of my humble but clean and pretty townhome. I have learned to walk with my granddaughter, Tom, my friend Betty, or just by myself on desert trails and be awed by the sudden presence of a jackrabbit, roadrunner, quail, coyote, a herd of deer, or a hawk circkling the earth. I have learned to appreciate the smile of a wonderful grandson, the hugs of a teriffic daughter and granddaughter, the comfort of two furry little shihtzus... and the laughter in a good man's voice.

I have learned to savor the simple moments, because I know I will lose those moments at any time... as can we all.

May this day be filled with gentle epiphanies of divine sacredness. May it be wonder-filled. May it be loved.

"It's only when we truly know and understand that we have a limited time on earth -- and that we have no way of knowing when our time is up -- that we will begin to live each day to the fullest, as if it was the only one we had."

What has happened to the land of the free and home of the brave?

Has America become the land of the special interest and home of the double standard? YOU BETCHA!

To prove my point, consider the following: If we lie to Congress, it's a felony but if Congress lies to the people who pay their salaries well, that's just politics; if we dislike a black or hispanic person, we are racist but if a black or hispanic person dislikes whites well they are utilizing their 1st Amendment rights; the government, using OUR hard earned tax dollars, spends millions to rehabilitate criminals and almost NOTHING to help the victims; in public schools socialism, homosexuality, etc can be taught but you cannot use the word God in the process; you can kill an unborn child, even in the third trimester, but it is wrong to execute a mass murderer, serial rapist or pedophile; we don't burn books in America, we now simply rewrite them (without the authors permission); we got rid of the communist and socialist threat by renaming them progressives; we are unable to close our border to Mexico but have NO problem protecting the 38th parellel in Korea; if you protest against President Obama's policies you are a racist AND a terrorist, but if you burn an American flag or George Bush in effigy it is your 1st Amendment right.

You can have pornography on the internet and disgusting television shows utilizing teenagers in sexual positions or using drugs, but you cannot put a nativity scene or a star of david in a public park or place during special holiday seasons; we have eliminated all criminals in America, now they are called sick people; we can use a human fetus for medical research, but its wrong to use an animal.

We take money from those who work hard for it and give it to those who don't want to work (I did not say were not able to work); we all support the Constitution, but only when it supports our political ideology; we still have freedom of speech, but ONLY if we are being politically correct; parenting has been replaced with psychobabble, Ritalin, video games and tv; the land of opportunity is now the land of hand outs; the similarity between Hurricane Katrina and the gulf oil spill is that NEITHER president did a damned thing to help.

And how do we handle a major crisis today? The government appoints a committe to determine who's at fault, then threatens them (with no backbone or intent to back it up), pases a law, raises our taxes, tell us the problem is solved so they can get back to their white house dinners and drinking, and reelection campaigns.

What has happened to the land of the free and home of the brave?

Contest ends in one week

You have one more week to enter the contest to win a selected item from the Shadows of Love on line store.

Simply navigate to the contest tab of this website, fill out the form (be sure to include your t-shirt size) and send it to me.

The first winner will be drawn on Sunday, March 13, 2011.

Good luck and happy reading!

Update on Shadows of Love

Shadows of Love

The bookmarks and postcards for the new book arrived this afternoon. For those who have notified me that you have purchased a book, a signed bookplate as well as a bookmark will be in the mail tomorow.

For my readers, should you purchase a book, do not forget to email me your home mailing address so I can send you a signed bookplate and bookmark.

Don't forget to check out the website shadowsoflove.com to enter the contests and go to the on line store while there. I will be drawing one name every two weeks from submitted entries to win items from the on line store or even a signed book.

Happy Reading.

This has been a season of so much loss... My work is done

I just finished hanging laundry on the clothes line Tom installed for me... this good man knew how much I loved the "smell of clothes just washed" from drying in the natural wind and sun... As I sit here, I can see the soft breeze blowing the blanket my little sister Roxie gave me when I met her for the first, and probably last time, almost eight years ago come this June. The blanket talks of sisters and has her name on it and mine. I met two other little sisters... Beth and Rhonda and two fantastic little brothers Tim and Joshua... Tim and I bonded almost immediately. I know I will never see them again either. My oldest son Douglas flew with me to meet them and a dear old friend and teenage love Gary helped me through it as well.

My little brother Joshua... is almost 27 years old now(can you imagine having a little brother almost 30 years younger then yourself and younger then your own children) married to his long time sweetheart and mother of his precious little girl (who looks so much like my own children and grandchildren). How I had hoped to visit all of them again but health and finances keep me far away.

I missed sharing their lives and I missed the opportunity to shelter and protect them from the pains of a childhood none of us should endure. I am no friend to adoption... it left me totally alone and allowed five wonderful people to be hurt and kept at such a distance. I hope they kmow I always wanted to be a part of a big family. I was a part of none.

I have another little sister... Kim from my birth mother Janice whom I got to meet when she was 12 on a few occassions... she even spent a few days one summer with me. She would be 44 now and the last I knew she had a little boy named Cody whom I never got to meet. Cody is a grown man now... another life missed

There there is my adopted sister Debbie... we never bonded though I do love her greatly. I had hoped time would bring us closer... it did not. She never returns letters or phone calls or cards. Before Mom became so ill and Debbie placed her in that long term care facility, she told me of Debbie's thoughts and anger. Mom told me that she tried but Debbie would not listen... However, just like my own children, Debbie never asked me what had occured in my life from home. She never knew what was going on but I also guess that means she did not care.

My beloved Doug will be gone 13 years when September comes... I never thought or dreamed I would be the one left behind. Oh the doctors had told me that I would not have him long if he did not adjust his life style... and I fought hard (perhaps too late) to keep him. But I still, deep inside NEVER thought I would be left behind. That is not the way this was supposed to work.

My children are grown and my Mary is doing very well (the last I heard). They have no need of me any longer. My little Jessie bear is turning into a young woman this summer; she will be 13. All "little girls" have that summer when you can watch the change from child to young woman... I watched it with her mother. I am so grateful for all of them. They kept me going... they gave me youth and challenges and wonderment. They need me no more...

My second book is complete... filled with poems of love and life... some sad and some oh so bright and star filled. Dedicated to my Jessica and my Tom... with poems about my children, my grandchildren, friends, family, and Doug filling its pages. I am proud of the work and know I have left something good behind. My work is done.

Cancer is taking Tom. It will also take me; I hope I beat him to the finish line. I am watching the America I once knew and defended (still defend) and love be turned into a third world country without borders, a common language or pride. I have suffered loss on so many levels over the course of these past 54 years but none so great as over these last 7 months. All I feel and see in the world around me is self centerdness, anger, knee jerk reactions, manipulation... and despair. Here and there a few glimpses of the world I knew and loved but they are becoming fewer and farther between.

Tom says, that even when he is here now I seem so far away... . The return of cancers, family upheaval, the economy, and fear have built this wall. Then too, we both know understand that neither of us sure if we will see one another again. And, I am tired.

I love them all so very much and I ache for all of them... but I know I cannot really touch them again there has been too much vileness that has been spilled. Too much name calling and NO communication; just accusations and in most cases out right lies due to subterfuge, jealousy, and the inability to say "this is what I need" or simply. "can we talk".

Can we talk? Not any more.

I am so tired. Tomorrow... I am going to the desert and just walk. I will just walk and be with Tom and Doug and in my memory a little Jessie Bear. I will walk and remember...


Kwai Chang: Master, what is the best way to meet the loss of one we love?

Master Kan: By knowing that when we truly love it is never lost. It is only after death that the depth of the bond is truly felt and our loved one becomes more a part of us than was possible in life.

Kwai Chang: Are we only able to feel this toward those whom we have known and loved a long time?

Master Kan: Sometimes a stranger known to us for moments can spark our souls to kinship for eternity.

Kwai Chang: How can strangers take on such importance to our souls?


So many hold importance in this damaged soul. I pray I have touched a few as well. In the end, I think that is the best any of us can hope for and strive to do.

This has been a season of so much loss...

The Last Part of the Journey...

My journey has been a long one… sometimes hard…. But oh so very very blessed.
In my spiritual view, I believe that life is a journey and that each journeyer must die twice and be reborn three times before the Spiritual goal can be achieved. The first 'death' is that of the Fool; the novice who knows not which path or which teacher to follow, and the 'second birth' is that of the Initiate in whom the glow of a Divine Spark has been revealed. This Spark, however, still requires long and careful nurturing before it can grow into a pure, strong flame. Only on the Path of Judgment, as the Initiate nears the end of the journey, is that embodied Spirit likely to be pure enough and strong enough to be exposed to the Divine Fire which is the Governing Element of this Path. At this stage, the Spiritual flame of the Initiate will be subjected to some fierce external assay. Bodily, material qualities, which (like Mother and Father) nurtured the Spirit with Love and shaped it with Reason, will be stripped away so that the timeless, universal, healing powers of a 'Spiritual Child' may be revealed. This is the area where I now believe I am… hence the loss of so much (forcing me to live in my little house in the ghetto as one mean spirited person once said of my townhome ) and the illnesses which battle with me more intensely each day. This belief has now brought me peace... much needed peace.

I believe that the Spirit exists in the body like the hidden power of fire within a coal. This fire may be lit by energies, such as love (which I have known an abundance of), which link it to the Divine Source. And, just as fire creates change within a coal and the coal feeds the fire, so, once touched by Divine energies, the process of change within the embodied Spirit is inevitable. The interdependence between fire and coal is necessary, but the changes which take place are unpredictable, because they depend not only on the purity of the coal but on outside factors, too. My cancer counselor, Cole, at the Ironwood Cancer Research center has helped me connect more closely with my own beliefs which are allowing me to let go of all that has been so negative but which I struggled to hold onto so tightly.
Always, it is the Spiritual energies of the Universe (the higher power) which summon and guide the Divine Spirit within the 'coal' (or 'base matter') of our bodies. But these energies alone cannot ensure the successful outcome of the Spiritual quest. And no individual, unaided, can gain the understanding, wisdom and discrimination necessary for such success. So, the Initiate must seek out whatever remains in our world of the timeless, unchanging energies of the Divine Source. Traditionally, such energies are found in those in whom the Spiritual flame burns with strength and purity - those who have, already, completed the journey successfully enough to have been judged by their peers to be a Master.. Aided by such a teacher, the Initiate is best able to develop the discrimination and balance needed for their own particular journey. Yet, since no two journeys are alike, there are no rules which can be taught, no pattern which can be strictly followed. Every teacher, every individual, even one whose Spirit has been judged most pure, is human and, therefore, fallible. So, in choosing and following a path, a teacher, a religion, the Initiate must trust intuition and must exert constant discrimination and care. The onus, always, is on the questing journeyer to evaluate any teachings in the light of their own circumstances and their own developing knowledge and understanding. Their goal must be to perfect their own Spiritual strength, not simply to borrow or imitate that of others.

As I have been a journeyer, I have been blessed with three great adults who guided me safely to adulthood (Bill, Lucy, Donna), some strong and steadfast friends who have stood by me even as cancer took me down time and time again and I lost so many material things, a wonderful daughter and son in law who had stood by me in difficult times and were there to help me whenever I needed until 7 months ago (Mary is a blessing of untold proportions), … two handsome sons whom I love, a husband who waits for me on the other side… and a good man, Tom, who holds me safely as I walk what we have been told is my final path on this journey (turning the coal within to a precious diamond at last)

May this final part of my journey be a long one… surrounded in the light of the sun… the softness of the moon… the laughter of my granddaughter Jessica whom cruel fate now holds at arms length from me….the strength of the mountains, the ruggedness of my beloved desert and a faith in God that cannot be shaken.

Blessed be