So Beautiful, Yet So Challenging: The invisible Becoming Visible

More excerpted from “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street” – manuscript in progress.

How very strange, I reflected, that revealing the extent of my current eye problem crisis on this blog site brought a calm to wash over me; a lightness of such purity and subtlety that I felt lifted to a higher realm of being.

How could an experience like this bring such transcendence; simply sharing, openly, that which I, generally, so closely hold private?

It is not with any intention to be less than transparent that I have held the subject of my eyes and their ongoing threats of blindness, quiet . Only inadvertently has the subject;  not been shared more fully. And, yet in exploring my “Anastasia The Storyteller” blog site, today, for that which I have previously shared, I find I have written a fair amount on the subject. So my situation has not truly been kept secret.

(Check the labels on this home page for “Keratoconus,” “Blind/seeing“911,” "To See Or Not To See" and “Recovery from blindness” for these articles.)

Actually there has been more than enough about my past visual impairment to suit me to date.  Do you think, perhaps, that I have been too reserved on the subject? I have in the past and, thus, robbed myself and others of the growth possibilities that the sharing of sorrows and losses can prompt.

Please do let me know, if this is so, for you about me.

No matter, destiny seems to have pushed the issue, once again, to the fore so that I/we have another opportunity here, if we missed out before.

Journalist Mike Corrigan, writing under the name G.M. Corrigan, wrote a beautiful article about my experiences with and recovery from blindness in “Finding Light In the Darkness” (Frederick News Post, August 6,2006). I so much appreciate how he utilized his proficiency with words to tell my blindness story and capture the transformation that was also mine, along with my losses and challenges.  I hope you will take time to read the story, if you are so inclined.

Making my black-patched eye, half-blindness as big and bold as a Hollywood happening, my former press agent, Charlie Brotman, brought both my impairment of a time past (late 1960s, early 1970s) into the spotlight in tandem with the U.”S. “Male” Service. Charlie’s creative genius, also, gave immense dignity to my vision challenges.

The U.S. “Male” Service (circa 1966) is the entrepreneurial enterprise that serves as the foundation for “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street.” It was purportedly the first reminder and gift shopping service known worldwide according to Voice of America (1967) and also offered an all-female, in hot pants, motorcycle delivery service to handle its deliveries. The delivery service was called "Special Delivery Messenger Service."

(See "Hostess For 'Eye Patch Party' Has A Personal Concern: Marcia Rosen, Who Had Unsuccessful Surgery Helps Those Who Helped Her," Washington Evening Star newspaper, November 21, 1969. Article to be posted, pending copyright permissions.)

With all this past, I was so surprised and happy that sharing my eye crisis, in my own words on this blog site, quickly brought me generous notes of caring and concern to fill my email inbox. I was touched!

Yet with this outpouring, questions, generally held in my personal cold storage vault, now arose; the central theme being around my dread of more public visibility than I can comfortably manage and the consequences therein. 

Thus, inquiries, most appropriately made, prompted me to seriously ponder my responsibilities to others as well as my personal priorities, present and future. 

Legitimate questions such as --

• ·         How recently did my present eye crisis arise?
• ·         Was the loss of my right eye’s vision a certainty?

To respond to these queries, individually or publicly on this site, I had my own questions to answer:

• ·     How big or how small is this present eye infection crisis for me, up against the backdrop of the overall framework of my life?
• ·     How big or how small is the situation in terms of how I describe my circumstances to others?
• ·     Is there a public version as well as a private version for the story of the situation?
• ·     Where does one draw the line between the two; the private and the public?
• ·     And, does that line drawing respect all concerned (not being too reticient, nor burdening others etc.)?
• ·     What is the potential fallout for me and for New Horizons from my being more transparent on this issue than I have been so far 0f now being half-blind?
• ·     How can I guide the effects of my transparency onto a positive track and, thus, offset the negative?
• ·     And, above all, perhaps, how can I now find my voice and be an active part of the co-creation of beauty in this often challenged world, especially when I, too, am challenged (i.e. how does one bring this into balance)?

What I actually yearn for most is the calm, washing over me; the lightness of purity and subtlety in everything I say and do that can bring healing to our troubled world.  As well as the healing of my wounded eyes, lifting me to that higher realm where all things are possible; the “universal awe” to which Murat, New Horizons’ community development mentor, so devotedly directs our attention, as his most recent book, "Ahmsta Kebzeh: The Universal Science of Awe, Volume II," so profoundly explicates.

Now, however, as fate would have it, it is time to light the first candles of Chanukah and to usher in Thanksgiving day.  So, for now, I will seek to find my peace in being thankful for what I/we have.

Finding my voice

Another excerpted reflection from “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street”

I was all set to go on to what seemed to be the next logical step in a sequence of articles, following on, ‘In A Different Voice.” I thought I’d hit on something visitors to this site would appreciate as having some fundamental value in the grand scheme of things; the sharing of my personal story and finding my true, authentic voice for whatever inspirational benefit it might provide. Or, as a prompt for others to similarly share back, as my Anastasia The Storyteller Radio Show intends to do.

Patience, the mighty
virtue

The goal of my sharing on this topic, finding one’s voice, was a gift to be tendered, arising from the deepest parts of me; the home of my soul.  Yet I have fallen short on this objective, to date; this summit I have been seeking of late, as evidenced by my absence, again, here for a time.

Unanticipated obstacles arose, obstructing my goal. Among them, and not the least of them is that I, once again, have come close to blindness; the result of a recent infection to my right eye. And, just when I was feeling most expansive about my recovered life after blindness, all the many New Horizons' advances – and – my new book writing project, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” I took a tumble. I fell off my bike, so to speak, and had a great deal of difficulty getting back on.

But I am here now to tell that tale, where and when appropriate. And, thus, get myself back in the saddle.

What happened behind the scenes was this.

On a beautiful, sunny Saturday near the end of September, I was, at last, heading into the underbelly of the beast, the K Street/Connecticut Avenue corridor, central scene of this tome of mine, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” intent on, at last, officially beginning my on-site “research” for the book. Confident in my vision for the book, the chapter outline completed, in first draft form, my plan for the manifestation of the book in print, determined, when a horrible bacterium infected my eye.

By Monday, after that important weekend, rather than moving on to the next steps of my book writing plan, on the heels of that long-anticipated sojourn into D.C., I spent the next day in Baltimore (Maryland) at the Johns Hopkins Wilmer Eye Institute emergency care. With another six or seven emergency care visits yet to come throughout October and into November. (My right eye gained some sight back from this previous infection but was still legally blind. It is now more scarred and blind.)

Of course, I was humbled and, of course, needing to remind myself, again, of who is really in charge of my plans. Which, obviously is not me! Still, I must confess that, for my part, all I found myself yearning to do was to write my blog articles. Eye infection be damned! 

Held back by the needs to care for my eye, unable to reach my pinnacle of articulation as I had envisioned it, my plan to follow up on my trip into D.C., each and every day I found myself frustrated by my physical limitations juxtaposed by this longing. Nonetheless, win or learn is truly the name of the game of life with the latter my immediate destiny. 

Now you know why I could not show up here.

I was too drained, emotionally; physically weary and scared to even try to climb to this hungered for peak of communication though I, also, found myself truly without words to, authentically convey. I was sunk in a pit of physical challenge and psychological identity confusion, simply unable to know who I was anymore. Physical health, God and serenity need to rise to the fore before I would be able to find my voice again.

In the meantime, reaching the crest where my long-held, treasured tales, as well as the lessons learned thereof, would be spoken, readied as they are, now, to be emptied from my personal records vault, would just have to wait.

What I had held so deep inside of me for decades could not realize release. My words free, at last, to carry the promise so long in anticipation of their days of liberation were not yet to be written, spoken nor heard.

What seemed to bother me most, besides my fear of once again being blind was my pressing, innate belief that holds to the importance of contributing to the greater whole of life and society as a necessity for a human existence well-lived. Would I be blind, again, I certainly feared. And, if so, how would I complete this new book in progress, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” intended to aid me in fulfilling that obligation.

But what to do, what to do when the writer could not write?

“Patience, cried a tiny, weak voice inside of me. What is truly authentic must make its way forth in its own good time.”

Sue suggested this complication, my eye infection and, once again, threatened blindness, could be viewed as a time of further gestation; a time whereby the Wise Woman of Elk Mountain I have grown to be would be maturing her voice to be shared in the future.

But would this time of threatened blindness pass? I had no way of knowing. And, still do not.

Gloria adds that my struggle, these days, to speak from the depths of my soul is, also, everyone else’s through times of joy and sorrow, hope and despair. She is right, so, I see that I must content myself these days to stumble along here.

Still, I am hoping that I am on way back now, as I feel most whole, body, mind and spirit, when a piece I am writing has just been completed. Nonetheless, beginning, middle or end of a cycle, Gloria and I will take up this topic, “finding my/our voice/voices” on the Anastasia The Storyteller Radio Show.

This week’s show  is on Wednesday, November 27, 11:30 a.m.

Please do join us and let us hear your stories about finding your voice.

In a different voice

An excerpted reflection from “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street”

Also listen to the Anastasia The Storyteller Radio Show

The year is 1972. My best friend, Sarabess and I have ventured to a Consciousness Raising group (CR), sponsored by the National Organization of Women (NOW). I have a toddler. Sarabess is pregnant.

Up until the time of this attending, my life centers around my businesses; the U.S. ”Male” Service and Special Delivery Messenger Service (Also see *note below), my husband and two young children; one a little over a year old, the other going on nine. 

Summertime adds another layer of importance to this emerging adulthood life of mine. Three times weekly my friend and I make trips to the beach; Sarabess and I are devout worshippers of Amaterasu, Japanese  goddess of the sun. As often as we can, on the road by 7:30 a.m. to return by dusk, we devotedly travel the road to Ocean City, Maryland to bask in her light.

We, too, are goddesses, though still only initiates at this point. This we do not yet know of ourselves, though by instinct it is both to the beach and the goddess we are led. With reverence we, ritualistically, guide ourselves onto the prayer path of sand, ocean water, suntan oil and the rays of this goddess; a pilgrimage, taking us close to five hours per day, round trip. Obviously, we are not worrying about gas prices.

Five hours each day, times three days a week, we travel. Fifteen hours total drive time, plus the five hours on the beach each of our days, times three days; almost a full time job. Our reverence for Amaterasu, paid in the cherished sun time veneration we savor.

Without doubt, we are sun worshippers, Sarabess and I. We are, also, under the thumbs of our husbands. This factor ensures we return home each day of our pilgrimage to have dinner ready and on the table for the men.  No other alternative occurs to us, such as simply staying overnight sometimes to minimize our drive time.

Then comes the Consciousness Raising group.

What?

Women’s voices, women’s perspectives, women’s emotions, the boundary-less support of other women; women like us, discovering a possible world out from under the thumbs of our men.

Not long after this a new goddess potion releases me from an alcoholic, rage-aholic husband. I leave fast track Washington, D.C. behind, return to college and enroll in a post graduate clinical training program with the International Transactional Analysis Association (ITAA). I am privileged to be excepted and accepted into it as a “mature” student. I am on my way to becoming a feminist psychotherapist, a Certified Transactional Analyst and Gestalt therapist. (However, my reoccurring threats of blindness and treatment, beginning with my junior year, take me on a maverick route through all of this.)

Sarabess becomes a yoga teacher. She will, someday, obtain multiple Masters Degrees, go on to do a television show, teaching yoga, and coach countless others to develop finely tuned disciplines of body, mind and spirit. She battles her way through the struggles of her marriage and motherhood, surmounting them to achieve many of her life’s dreams.  She stays in her mariage. I do not.

In 1980, I become, also, a researcher of socio-psychological dynamics and cultural evolution. This turns out to be my great passion. Thus, a time of transition, brought into being in 1972, turns out to be, with Watergate underscoring the era, the beginning of my identity in wholeness, still without end.

Though I had not yet gained the observers’ wisdom of distance at the time, I can always trace back to this summer of Amaterasu and Conscious Raising groups as the start of my finding a different voice for myself;  the voice of a woman who views herself as a goddess; “I am woman, hear me roar.”

That’s what “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street” sets out to tell; the tale of how one woman, Me, left behind the near-tears of identity confusion, thinking of myself as “better than other woman, less than a man,” to find her own, personal way through the the dark side of society and politics with a woman’s dignity.

*Note: If you care to do the research prior to our clearing copyright permissions, you can find the source for this, now, in the archives at the Smithsonian. The book in progress,“Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” most directly ties to “Burgeoning Business Brims Over: Twenty-seven year old starts runaway personal shopping service” – Washington Sunday Star newspaper, September 24, 1967. Check it out, if you like.

Ms Success by day, suicidal by night…

…and the underbelly of the beast

Another tale excerpted from “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street”

“Why the extremes Anastasia?” you might be asking, if you read my last blog.

“Why so attentive to tragedies and catastrophes?”

Having “lived” the extremes (past tense that is) with decades since, pledged to my emotional and psychological health and serenity, I’ve learned a few things I want to pass on, to the youngins, particularly.  

That’s why!

I want to share with you how it was that I got from there to here to have, an almost wonderful, though far from easy life. I want you to draw inspiration, strength and wisdom from my experiences. And, heed, if you are inclined, the lessons from what I am selectively revealing. This -- for the sake of my healing, wholeness and liberation. The latter in line with my intention that “Anastasia The Storyteller,” the blog site and the radio show, could be, a venue for me to, at last, remove those 1000 masks I wear; all of them -- me.

How very fitting to take another serious stab at this unmasking, just in time for Halloween.

If I have nothing more to offer, I, at least, have my authenticity and from this I leave you my stories; stories, of course, being some of the richest treasures of a life.

For my well-researched, well-documented solutions to the problems addressed in this article, find out more in Exploring Your Dark Side: The Adventure of A Lifetime and at the New Horizons Small “Zones of Peace” Project.

Now about those extremes, which are a significant part of the underbelly of the beast of success, ala Anthony Weiner.

If my meaning is not immediately clear, in time it will be so. Patience will be your virtue here. But don’t hesitate to ask for the more you would like.

(You can contact me, directly, at: zonesofpeacenh@aol.com.)

In the meantime, walk your way through my stories on “We came for Camelot,”  “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street” and beyond in other stories, fraught with clues that meander here and there on this blog site. (Also check out “The Man Who Believed In Evil.”)

Allow me to, now, discuss my book-in-progress project and its related intent of getting out from under whatever masks I still wear.

The cost, is, was and always had been, at the expense of – “whatever?” 

So, herewith, I advance the story of my book-writing adventure, revealing a few notes on  beginning the next, immediate leg of research a month ago.

The commencement, officially, was launched by my attending several meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous in Washington, D.C.  How about that!

No, I am not a “real deal” alcoholic. However, suffice it to say that it was, here, in our nation’s capital that I learned the art of “work hard, party hard” as the choicest path to success in the American dream package. Thus, these particular meetings, held in the very heart of the beast, the central business, power- laden home to the offices of untold lobbyists etc., K Street, N.W., Washington, D.C., are smack in the midst of what became for me, the fire pit of my adult awakening.

Oh, I would have been a great candidate for AA back then; disease or not.

My tales, readily, emerge from there -- “work hard, party hard.” The underbelly, also, including the repulsion I felt, being relentlessly stalked by a Senator, endeavoring to set me up as his mistress, no doubt, to be funded by his congressional pay.

Scarey. What does an innocent, twenty something do up against this kind of power and prestige?

Dummie me, I was too naïve to understand the episode until decades later. But I sure was intimidated and scared.

“There by the grace of G-d go I.”

(If you care to do the research, now in the archives at the Smithsonian, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street” most directly ties to “Burgeoning Business Brims Over: Twenty-seven year old starts runaway personal shopping service” – Washington Sunday Star newspaper, September 24, 1967. Check it out. That, of course, be me and the basis for “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street.” However, we will hold off on that celebrity entrepreneur part for a bit. So please bear with me. You will not be disappointed, I assure you.)

Question: How do women of today, eager to break the glass ceiling world, dominated by the male power sector, bypass these temptations and dangers?

Answer 1: Emily Yoffe addresses the “work hard, party hard” aspect of the topic eloquently in College Women: Stop Getting Drunk, underscoring the main reason I chose to visit AA meetings as my first research step for “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street.”

Answer 2: PG – Parental guidance, also, suggested.

The real deal for me is that I could never be bought! I hope you cannot either.

So I offer my stories that you and your’s will be just a little bit stronger and wiser than some of our sisters who did not make out as well.

Or, who might still be inclined to think and re-think the price they are willing to pay to break through that glass ceiling.

I’m so glad instinct protected me from the underbelly of the beast where parents did/could not.

Now, how about asking me, how I, now, see transforming the Dark Side of society and politics.

You can begin by exploring all kinds of dark side transforming strategies on the New Horizons Small “Zones of Peace” Project blog site.

More to come.

There by the grace of G-d go I

Lessons I learned in my era of “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street”

As in my last blog, reporting on the most recent episode of my radio show, Anastasia The Storyteller, we had a juicy discussion.

Listen to it, if you are becoming, at all, intrigued by the unfolding adventure we are having.

(Communications Director, Lisa, blog and radio show coach, liked the one before much better. Oh, well, I still like this one.)

To my mind, in this episode, my honorary daughter, Terry, asked several “pregnant with possibilities” questions; many a long night’s stories to be told.

One question, noted below, got me thinking about some of the near misses of my days on and around K Street.

Terry’s question --

How is the Washington political scene different today from the past?

I gave my answers, based on what I experienced and learned, back in the day -- and see today. You can read my points, as presented, on that earlier blog.
In summary, the main points are:

•  Same game in Washington as the late ‘60s with some important variations that have the potential to make a difference, over time, if we last that long. 

• Moral: The “Washington Power Game” is dangerous for the innocent. So give up your innocence, your self-centeredness and laziness. And, get real and, personally, responsible (if you are not yet on it)!

Read my blog on “Bypassing Washington.” It contains my best advice.

Below, I offer some hints as to some of the specifics of the worst dark side pitfalls, as I came to know them.  Awful as some are, they are still alive and well, potentially, in the nation’s capital.

 

Are you a part of the solution? Or, part of the problems?

Clue: When you rely on Washington… Well, you figure it out!

If you want details and my input on how we might turn things to the better, they will emerge as dialogue continues, specifically on-air on the topic of this mss in progress.

 

From Anastasia’s near misses experiences, the consequences she managed to escape, at least sooner or later,  and the lessons these taught her –“There by the grace of G-d go I."

Tragic, near tragic or tragicomedy nears misses, exemplified by those who did not miss.  And, cautions to heed.

(Links below are primarily about the survivor/addict, down side of Washington's power games. These are relevant to near misses, as I lived them.

The upside, as I also know it, can be a celebration! However, the upside is a team game; a win-win game that we are currently having a hard time learning to play. My stories are offered in the hopes we can look forward to many of these! Storytelling is such a rich path to peace.)

Death:

·         Chandra Levy – Mr. Goodbar is always only a step away for the innocent in D.C., if one is young and lovely and not careful enough;

·         Janis Joplin – Fame and fortune, not quite cracked up to be the best path to follow, especially if love is what you’re after. The Rose with Better Midler touched me deeply as a depiction of this deadly aspect of the power game; the celebs’ co-dependency game at its worst.

Chemical Addictions, accompanied by wild acting out (but a whole lot tamer in my era):

·         Janis Joplin

·         Lindsay Lohan

Domestic Violence

·         Charlotte Fedders – Looking good on the arm of a powerful man but not so good behind closed doors.

 Dominance and oppression via the dark side agendas of elders, combined with youthful rebellion

·         Pinocchio

Sexuality as image ahead of intelligence

·         Melissa Mayer

Leaning in, meaning single-minded focus on breaking through the glass ceiling of corporate America

·         Sheryl Sandburg

Stupidity, combined with lack of experience, value development and people who get a kick out of your sexuality. Make lots of money, but not always the cleanest way to go for your real talents. Survival-driven.

·         Miley Cyrus

You can see from my list some of these examples have more lethal consequences than others. And, some have mixed blessings; the light and the dark sides of power, money and status. It might all be in the choices and the protection behind one.

The good news is that, today, we have the opportunity for more and better informed choices – and – strong sisterhood supports.  These make a whole lot of difference.

Listen in to my next Anastasia The Storyteller episode when we take up this issue. We will be talking about “Feminism to the rescue,” in the era before Watergate.

 More to come.

Making “it” relevant

Anastasia’ excerpted stories of Washington in the era before Watergate

from
“Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street”

 “H Mom” is short for Honorary Mom. That be me!

The role was already mine for decades before Terry’s biological mom, Mary Jane, officially, bestowed it on me. Shortly before she passed away, December, 2003, she asked me to proxy for her (as if anyone really could).  

Now almost twenty-five years, total, that I’ve had this position. I take it quite seriously. Terry does too.

With my new book in progress, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” dedicated to my own biological daughter, Elisa, (who will choose, perhaps, forever, to be a non-participant in the unfolding), it makes sense to me that it is Terry who is, now, walking through the process with me; the surrogate daughter, asking the questions a youngin’ might want to know, as the baton passes on to the next generation.

Having conceived, this, presently gestating, child of my body, mind and soul, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” out of the first show Terry and I did together, of the same title, this youngin’ of mine has been prompting me to take a good, hard look at what I have done with my days, thus far; the what and the why.

The question, Terry asked, that kick started this, now unfolding book writing adventure, went something like this –

How (OMG, no!!) – Terry’s emphasis) on earth did you get from there to here?

Well, I guess this book is the answer to that (in 300 words or more); a very long, detailed answer!

(You might be wondering the same, with your own OMG, once we start posting some of the memorabilia.)

In the meantime, listen to that show to begin drawing your own impressions.

I’m sure you will enjoy the peek in, if you are becoming intrigued.

Anyway, my main point here is that in this week’s show, “Hot Pants, Motorcycles & K Street; Making it relevant”, Terry asked several other questions, pregnant with possibilities.

Here are the main ones that got us started on what came next --       

Terry, reflecting on what’s going on now in our society, relevant to the political scene (paraphrased):  

·         How is the Washington political scene different today from the past?

·         How has what you, Anastasia, learned back then influenced the decisions you have made since?

As you can imagine, these questions opened the door to a long night’s tales.

Anastasia’s answers: Short version, key points.

·         Same game in Washington as the late ‘60s with some important variations that have the potential to make a difference, over time.

(Look for these to be discussed in forthcoming show episodes.

Next: “A Feminist Spirituality to the rescue

·         One same – the young people who are drawn by their youthful ideals to work in the Washington fast track will, often, end up being shark bait for the predators;

·         I (Anastasia) had many near misses.  And, sadly, have often reflected on Chandra Levy’s tragic death with the thought -- “There by the grace of G-d, go I.”

·         “Mr. Goodbar” was lurking everywhere in the “shark suits” of Washington’s power game players/leaders;

·         Moral: The Washington Power Game is dangerous for the innocent.

Stories like these give strength to the fact that a “girl needs her mother.”

More to come on –

Making Anastasia’s stories of “Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” relevant to today!

Making gifts relevant

“Hot Pants, Motorcycles and K Street,” mss in project and other stuff

I hope you’ve missed me of late. I’ve been a bit unsociable, at least as far as posting articles; not clear on my priorities, unable to find my center and readily identify my daily number one, two and three top “do” items. Too much going on, or so it has seemed.

Opportunities abounding, everywhere I turn, is most of the challenge right now, but not only. There have been a few lemons but the lemonade seems to be easier to make these days. I don’t know why.

Anyway, here’s some of what’s been going on behind the scenes while I’ve been kinda quiet for you.



Sue, sitting on the boat dock,
reading Murat's new book. 

When Sue and I left for Canada in early August I was feeling right on the money in terms of daily priorities.  The need for a vacation, however, was long overdue. So I opted to let go of focus in exchange for some “go with the flow” time, rest and relaxation.  By the time we returned, several weeks later, I was, indeed, improved in the manner time-outs intend; renewal had, definitely, been attained.

However, I felt so “new,” in some very basic ways, I could not figure out how to rejoin with the “old.”

In terms of getting caught up with you, I do not know, yet, how.  So much has happened since we left for Canada. More on the invisible/inner level, as far as you might see.

I am, nonetheless, as it turns out, vastly, unable, these days to even get caught up with me.

Hoping to connect some of the dots, allow me to offer these few items to aid the clarifying. Maybe, making a start, I will be better able to articulate later.

1.      Our Beloved community development mentor, Murat Yagan, published his new book in July;

2.      As enriching  as was our vacation, the fact that Sue and I each received complimentary copies of the book just before we left so we had them to take with us was BIG;

3.      The fact that we contributed an article to the book might, also, turn out to be BIG, too, at some point (I/we have no perspective on this as yet. However, you can read our final draft of that article, here, and, perhaps, you might let us know);

4.      Murat’s new book seems, in some unfathomable way, to have been of even greater import than that marvelous trip we took. Thus we arrived at Sue’s family’s summer home with, not only all else we had packed, but that profound tome to highlight it all;

5.      Somehow having this book with us seems, also in some unknowable way, to have prompted my own new book to just about pop out of me, like an overdue baby I’d been pregnant with for a very long time. (Draft outline completed in just one sunny afternoon on that dock in the picture above!)

See how vague I am. So sorry but I am at a loss to say more, coherently, right now.

      Except for one thing: 

Today, my honorary daughter, Terry, my long-time friend, Gloria, and I presented a wonderful radio show.

If nothing else, I think that show did enable me, somewhat, to speak of the vastness (of what might still be invisible to you), a tad bit more relevantly; kind of earth plane though I am at a loss as to how.

Check it out!

More to come when I can piece more things together.

In the meantime, be sure to listen to that show. It was definitely going in the right direction of relevance.

And, thanks, so much, for continuing to read my blogs, especially when I have had so little to say. This consciousness transformation business is really something!

Also, do read what I have posted, so far, about Murat’s new book that has, as its subtitle, “The Universal Science of Awe,” which seems to be about where I am living right now.