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Spring Is Here

Spring is here, the time has moved forward in the Eastern zone and many birds’ internal clocks are telling them it is time to start a new family. So said, LOOK at what I encountered on a neighbor’s front porch………it was this male peacock putting on a show for his female counterparts.

Male Peacock on Front Porch

Male Peacock on Front Porch

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He modeled in full regalia to the front and then slowly did a 180 to the back where he proceeded to shake his “booty” and he kept this up for a full 15 minutes.

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Evidently the ladies weren’t impressed as they walked off before the  show ended.

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Upon seeing that he no longer had an audience, he had this dejected look on his face as if to say, “What the Hell just Happened?”  And so he packed up his gear in shame and strutted down the street never to let anyone see his utter humiliation.

(Click on the pictures to reveal a manual slideshow)

 

I on the other hand was amazed by his performance; however, I sum it up by taking a line from last week’s “Saturday Night Live” skit which is, “Who walks around like that? It’s so cocky.” Hey, maybe you know someone who does.

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Goodbye Snowy

Snowy

Snowy

I write this post in love and in pain. Snowy died three days ago. She slipped out into the night with me touching her and telling her, “Go to the light Snowy. Go to the Light!”

In my book, I describe how I found her as an older dog on the street. Within the four years that she was with me, she gave me the gift of love. She took ill last week and she died in a most traumatic way. My body has been in shock for the past 3 days. Yesterday, she came to me and she said, “Thank You.” That’s all she said. That’s when it dawned on me that she gave me another gift. She gave me the gift of experiencing “her” death with her on “her” terms.

She was my ray of sunshine and she had a smile that could light up the room. With her passing, it has really come home to me not to sweat the small stuff, something that has given me trouble on many occasions. What matters is the love—the love you give and the love you receive. The love is what you take with you and I know that we both gave and we both received that love.

Love’s pain is the pain of separation and at this point in time, it hurts. Like the song says, “It hurts so bad.”

Love’s fear is the fear of loss. I loved and I lost but that will not stop me from loving again. Yes, in time, I will love again.

Goodbye Snowy. I love you.

 

P. S. If you are experiencing pain, know that you are not alone, but also know, you are never alone—for your Higher Self and your guides are with you, the light is forever, and goodness, truth and beauty prevails…Namaste.

A Tribute To Mitzie

Mitzie

Mitzie

My dog Mitzie passed away November 25th, 2011, the day after Thanksgiving. She was a stray that had her puppies on the grounds of my plant nursery. Since there is so much open land in the Redlands, people make a habit of releasing their unwanted dogs in the fields. So many times, my heart would bleed as I would see these dogs running in packs through my nursery.

So I fed Mitzie while she nursed her puppies and she was an excellent mother. When the puppies were old enough; luckily, the Humane Society adopted them and I got her spayed and I kept her. Through a channeling, she revealed to me that this was her first time on the planet and so far, she had experienced a very harsh and cruel life on the streets but knew that I could help her adjust to life on earth. Up until then, her experience with people was one where they shooed her and threw rocks at her.

Her movements were like that of a wild animal and she would dart out of sight and take refuge under a deck in my back yard. She would only come to me and she would hide in my bedroom whenever she was in the house. If anyone came into the room and cornered her, she would wet herself— that’s how scared of people she was. It took years for her to be able to be in the presence of anyone, and like a proud mother, I experienced the great joy of watching her develop. She was the most gentle and loving dog that I have ever come across.

During her life, she developed a growth on her back which I had our vet remove. Shortly after, the growth came back but this time with a vengeance. It grew quickly to be about the size of a grape fruit as if cut in half and placed on her back. After I had it removed for a second time, I consulted my guides to find out what was going on. They said that this was Mitzie’s way of “encapsulating” people’s bitterness. And, “those were her words, not ours,” they said. So I had to have a stern talk with her to tell her that even though she was trying to help the planet, she was not required to do this.

On my website, I had stated that I guess she got the message because the growth never returned. However, in September of this year (2011) the growth did return. Once again, I had it removed. Well, the week of Thanksgiving, Mitzie lost the use of her back legs. Being, as she was over seventy pounds, my daughter and I had to lift her to use the bathroom. By the end of the week, I knew I had to do the evitable because she had lost her dignity and her quality of life. In fact, she was now suffering and in pain. I remembered that in a past reading, she had told me she wanted quality not quantity of life.

On Friday morning, I took her to the vet and witnessed one of the most painful experiences of my life. This was not my first time but I have to tell you that it never gets any easier. I know that love means allowing greater freedom and I know she is free but that does not dismiss the fact that one of the hardest things is knowing how to say goodbye. I love you Mitzie.

Crabs In The Box

Crabs In The Box

I can remember when I was young and living in Jamaica that we used to have a wonderful pastime of going to catch land crabs during the rainy season. The falling water would fill their holes, and then be cooked by the unrelenting sun. This combination would make them come out of their homes at night and march by the hundreds, maybe even by the millions, as seen through the eyes of a child. Whenever this happened, many families would get together and go “crabbing.”  This was a big outing for us. We would dress in pants and long sleeve shirts and hats to cover our skin, as mosquitoes which hatched in standing water would also swarm. The men would arm themselves with gloves and flashlights and become like little boys playing Cowboys and Indians, with that kind of circling the wagons mentality. They would drive up and down the streets with the windows down, pointing their flashlights along the sidewalks as they drove. We  children were suppose to hold the crocus bag, and jump out of the car behind them when they stopped the car as they spotted a crab either walking along the side, or crossing the road.

Once spotted, it became a big commotion as they went into battle with their opponent. If there was only one crab, then one man would get out of the car and run after the crab who by this time realized that it was in danger so it would start to run. Crabs run sideways, so when confronted by their enemy, they run to one side, and then to the other with their claws outstretched in fighting mode in an attempt to outsmart their attacker. The trick to catching these crustaceans, is to get behind them so that you can position your foot on its back, where it is unable to move. While holding it down with your foot, you would then bend down and using your dominant hand with the thumb and third finger, or thumb and little finger outstretched, depending on the size of the crab; you would pick it up by holding the back between your two fingers where it would be unable able to pinch you with its claws.

When the victor had his spoils in hand, he would shout, “Hurry Up! Hurry Up!—Bring the bag, Bring the bag,” and if you were assigned to that person, you would go running towards them with crocus bag in hand. Since everyone was your uncle whether they were related to you or not, your father or your uncle, depending on who it was, would open the bag and throw the crab in when you got there. And so they continued until they spotted the next crab while passing dead ones that had been smashed by cars when crossing the road. If they caught one or two bags filled to the brim, then it was considered a very good catch. They would do this for several nights until the crabs returned to their holes, not to come out again after the water had receded. The custom was to store them in home-made wire cages in the backyard, and to feed them for a week with mangoes and other fruits that were in season. This would purge them, cleaning out this bitter black gall that resides in their bodies, resulting in the meat becoming white and having a delicious sweet flavor. Then they would invite all their friends over for a “crab feed.” Some of the crabs would be boiled in water with salt and scotch bonnet peppers that were sliced. These peppers are regarded the hottest in the world. In Jamaica, everything is cooked with scotch bonnet peppers, so much so, that it is normal to see even the tiniest child eating these spicy foods which would cause a grown person who is not used to it, to spit it out and cry. The rest of the crabs would be curried, and of course, laced with just as much pepper. They would serve it with green bananas and other foods such as yam and boiled dumplings. All of this was cooked in kerosene pans over an open fire made out of concrete blocks with coal inside. There would be calypso and reggae music, and lots of Red Stripe Beer and soda for the kids. Then they would party and laugh and eat as they exchanged stories about how they lost the one with the biggest claw you’ve ever seen, or how this one nearly bit them, or how this one made them trip and fall down, but it never got away. In the meantime, the children would run up and down playing tag with each other until their clothes were soaking wet. Read More