“OK.. There You Go, Girl..”

30″ x 40″, m/m

My ex-husband had family care- taking a ranch in Colorado.

We went there to visit one year during haying time.

I have always been enchanted by tractors.

And, LO AND BEHOLD! my dream was about to come true!

I asked for a ride as this gorgeous red piece of machinery ambled down the endless rows of alfalfa.

The driver showed me the lay of the land as far as steering, brake and such.

It was something like a two minute lesson amidst the roar and maw of the thing.

AND THEN HE JUMPED OFF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Needless to say, I was mortified but what could I do but keep her steady in the row?

After awhile I settled in to the green perfume and heat of the day.

The slow and steady crawl toward the next row.

And the next.

It was this almost elegant softening into this place smack between big power and yielding to the fluidity of a meditation.

This is how I feel in partnership with a chronic illness.

There is the diagnosis: (“OK..There you go, girl..)

And you walk out of the doctor’s office and face yourself as a solitary human being.

As far as I can tell, the quality of life depends on the stories we tell ourselves and how quickly we can come up with them.

And let them go in exchange for another.

I want a life steeped in the feeling of the deep green of that field as I masterfully negotiate that tractor from row to row.

I write stuff like this and it can sound rather like an outcast in some corner with treacle dribbling from the corners of her mouth.

It’s my story, though… and I’m stickin’ to it.

Push Button

detail of sculpture earth,ceramic

Here in Santa Fe we have a plethora of gadgets, machines and hokey-pokey claiming off-the-charts healing capabilities.

I’ve tried many of them myself.

I get shadowed by desperation when my body exhibits the tendency to crumble.

You just might be grabbin’ at anyTHING with ‘hope’ as it’s middle name were you in my position.

One never knows till you’re there at the table, does one?

It can look quite insane to the blessed and fully functional but the game here is LIFE.

And I want to win.


I rented this magnetic frequency mat two days ago.

The MRS2000. Magnetic Resonance Stimulation

It has been on the tip of the healing communities tongue for the last year and offered up to me fairly regularly as a MUST TRY.

I wanted to find a video testimonial to share with you but they seem unconvincing to me at best so I won’t bother you with them.

I, myself, listen to the messenger in cases such as this and the people urging me to try the thing are stand up folks with big brains and honest hearts.

Ok…enough preamble, Cath.

I rented a mat for a week to try it. I lay on the thing 24 min. at time 3X per day.

1. nervous system calmed and smooth
2. tooth pain in jaw from poorly done root canals gone.
3. toes on right foot previously curled tightly under and getting blisters are relaxing toward normal
4. shoulder joint pain from muscle spasms pulling bone in directions it does not want to go, lessened
5. wake without so much stiffness
6. Olivia (dog) plasters self on my chest each time and her eyes go half mast and strange gurgling noises emanate from her throat.
So.. those are results in only 5 short sessions on this mat.

It feels like a warm and soft rain nourishing my frayed and weary nerves and musculature.

How I remember feeling as I ate a warm dessert long ago called Chocolate Pot-de Creme.

I want an IV of this feeling.

It’s my new drug; Peace

I will report in at the end of my dance with this thing.


detail of sculpture

Acupuncture has always worked well for me.

I went to see a new guy yesterday who was highly recommended by someone I respect highly.

It was a whole different deal.

The nurturance factor was almost enough to have made it worth it.

His touch was warm and I asked if this temperature was what human beings are supposed to feel like when everything is working perfectly?

I am always cold.

Due to circulation issues my right hand and foot are often blue.

I am used to it but it takes people aback.

This man’s presence with me was startlingly THERE.

I have spoken before about my experience of many, many healer-types not having attended to their sexual boundaries very well and I can feel that leakiness in the room which makes me feel unsafe.

This guy had done his work in that arena.

So I could really relax.

He did not just stick me with a bunch of needles but used MOXA.

Approaching the various points with heat instead of metal.

He spoke to me the whole time and behaved almost like a ballet dancer in his controlled and purposeful movements around the table as he kept taking my pulse for information and moving on to the next point.

This was Japanese acupuncture.

Not the ‘stick-the-patient-and-leave-her-alone-for-45 minutes’ kind of thing I am familiar with.

I asked this lovely man what the two framed calligraphy pieces on the wall meant as they were both hung with a sense of import and honor.



“Both say the same thing” he told me.

“Acupuncture is an art. It is the thing that takes place in the space between the client and practitioner. It really has nothing to do with the needles.” I could be using a stick or pen and it would be the same. It is the intention behind one person
and all they are meeting in another.

Each moment in this man’s company felt healing to me.

Because of the quality of the Self of his self he has cultivated.

No stickiness or weird bumps in the road.

Pure healing intent and the skill and (whatever it is) to go with it.

All I could say when I left was: “AMEN.”


untitled, ceramic, 7″ x 1″, 1999

As my physicality keeps shifting into the unknown, my life’s purpose moves as well.

I am being drawn toward youth mentoring.

I have a life I feel great about and I seem to be able to add to this recipe I’ve concocted for a thriving existence, bit by bit.

At a dinner party recently the topic turned toward mentors we each remembered making efforts on our behalf in our youth.

Folks who, in the often smallest of ways, changed our lives for the better.

The energy expenditure was so small, it seemed, as we looked back.

And yet, those tiny chapters of support made us better. Stronger. More able to trust ourselves and our gifts.

Some of us at that table felt the cavernous vacancy of mentorship in their lives.

“I am a self-made man” he said, with a whisper of grief and weariness flitting across his face.

This person happens to have made himself into a full fledged MD on his own steam.

I did not have the luxury of count-on-able parenting but I did have a couple people who backed me up for long enough to give me a sense of my wings.

A gymnastics coach and an art teacher come to mind.

Now, as an adult woman, I have the gifts of muscle memory from my gymnast days and an innate trust and comfort in my ability to create.

Would I have the deep and secure sense of myself had these people not turned themselves toward me as they did?

How much harder do we have to work at claiming or even discovering our fledgling selves if we have to do it alone?

I have it in me now to give what I’ve earned in life to those just now approaching the labyrinth.

How odd life is.. that it bends and shifts as it does.

An art career moves into a writers life and the next page has a picture of a woman-with-walker approaching a grade school.

Who is writing this story, anyway?????????

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