Coffee With Cathy And Emma- first video!

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note: This is longer than videos will be in the future as I keep working the kinks out please have mercy.. xxx

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She Should Be Smiling

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“WOMAN BECOMING” 5×3′,m/m
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The advent of HARRIET TUBMAN’S visage on our $20.00 bill makes my heart soft.

The people responsible for this fine choice made a point of landing her on a 20 dollar bill because we use this currency most often.

No hiding out in the obscurity of a 2 dollar bill for Harriet! NO!

I’ve read some commentary regarding this historic (and pathetically tardy) moment:

“She should be smiling.”

I really wonder how many times we could have saved the world

If all the energy women have used up over the ages smiling when they didn’t feel like it

Was collected and stored?

Harriet was doing some stuff to benefit the world that was pretty non-smiley shit..

Sometimes, I roll round my day and practice not smiling..

Just letting my natural energy soften my whole face into innocence.

My proclivity is to set myself into motion with the historical presentation of a “good girl” etched into all my muscles.

When I consciously let it slough off me and drop in sheets by the wayside

People often ask me if I am ok or if something is wrong.

Inside my physical self I just feel at utter peace so it seems weird that these comments are a reflection of how I am perceived.

One reason I spend so much time alone is that this gives my being a chance to be neutral and non-reactive-by-rote to another’s energy.

Over time I learn the safety in neutrality and authenticity is more my modus operandi.

I love this black face entering the world; passing through our hands, touching us as we touch and honor her courage, fortitude and gravitas.

She helps me know the gorgeousness there in the transparency and force of a de-smiled face.

I love to smile and this helps me stay connected to people as I skirt the lure of isolationism.

We’ve all become a bit too smiley to offset the horrors of everyday life, I think.

The antidote is authenticity when we can sink into who we really are in each moment.

Prince

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painted silk
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A teacher I cared deeply about at one point in my life taught that there are those among us who function fully from our PERSONALITY, ESSENCE and the widest UNIVERSAL part of us.

PERSONALITY= the theatrical part of us we use to function well in the world around us.

ESSENCE= our “soul fragrance”. The information we can pick up about another person without knowing much about them at all.

UNIVERSAL= The ultimate life force we each carry and are connected by. The rare few have ready access to this.

Most of us seem to have access to one or two of these but rarely all three.

We know who these people are intuitively. They are fishers of men. We are hooked by their innate charisma and ease in their unconventional skins. They ooze a laser life force we can only hope to embody someday.

The current Pope, JFK, Picasso, Marlon Brando, Maya Angelou are a few who come to mind in my estimation.

Authenticity, fearlessness, conviction, old-soul wisdom, somehow outside of time, leadership, ability to grab the populous by the scruff of the neck and shake us.

My sense is that PRINCEwho passed away today falls into this category as well.

Some rarified air surrounded him.

He seemed skilled at protecting his gold so that only every once in awhile we were gifted by the symphony that was him.

We are richer for his keeping us company for awhile.

Rest now…We were moved by you.

Paying Proper Attention

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detail of painting
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Sometimes I think paying attention is all I have left to give.

It seems that attention is the currency my life in a wheelchair runs on.

If I don’t ‘pay’ it- stuff breaks…

Like my breakfast bowl or Emma’s leash getting tangled in the chair wheel or my energy reserve goes beyond empty and everyone suffers.

If I’m not careful I can go down and stay down having misjudged the distance to my bed or chair.

Emma tells me with just her eyes if she needs a walk or hug or to be left alone.

My eyes are just as fluent in conveyance of messages.

Rare people have been able to read me this way.

This skill is uncommon because it demands we get fully outside ourselves and tune ALL our antennae elsewhere.

Most of my life, were I honest, I found myself way more interesting than anyone else.

But now that I’m 60 and my once fine moccasins are a bit tattered

You there..and you and that and you too and that thing over there have become the subjects I pull my virtual portable microscope up to

And LOOK. Really look.

Chronic illness and age have many luxuries built in to them that no one seems to talk about.

I have all the time I need to send my attention in any direction I choose and I am learning that if I don’t like where I landed just a blink and shift in perspective to pay attention elsewhere changes everything.

Most of us are paid money to keep our attention focussed for long periods of time.

Sometimes I yearn for the familiar comfort and stresses of my old life.

The blessings of space and time are not to be underestimated.

Yesterday I smelled rain so deeply it almost hurt and I saw the particular brightness in my housekeepers eyes and I reveled in my body’s sense of safety, ease and radiance the morning after a sublime evening with friends.

I have time .

It actually feels like living in a state of communion.

Every day I eat the wafer and drink the wine and Emma and I roll on down the road….

Legacy and the Good Life

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my new hat
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My grandmother had a hat with a big, sweeping pheasant feather swooping up from the pillbox atop her grey head. I only remember seeing her wear it once but clearly the sight was unforgettable.

Under her bedroom vanity there sat an automatic foot massager.

Next to her bathtub was an electric towel warmer.

She wore JOY perfume.

I don’t believe she had any really good girlfriends she could let down with.

She seemed so utterly lonely to me

But she loved the natural world

And it loved her back.

In the pond her home bordered swam 4 black swans with bright red beaks the two of us would go feed following a lunch together. The swans were a gift to the city from her.

That pheasant-feathered woman morphed into a soft and wonder-eyed human humbled by the beauty of those swans gracefully accepting her offerings.

Our relationship was mostly silent. We just knew one another on a very intimate level.

Her legacy to me is broad and treasured; the deepest love and appreciation of the earth and all that is connected to it, the value of good manners, enjoyment of the finer things in life but without the sense of entitlement, liquor (hers in sauces..mine in a glass), adventure, curiosity and a love of hats.

I miss her very much.