Terra Naomi

She's a YouTuber, a singer-songwriter who's been picked up by Island Records. Her new CD is being released next month and this is the "official video" of her first single, "Say It's Possible." I've been following her progress since last fall. I predict she is going to be big...you can say you saw her here first...

Terra Naomi

Drunk Driving

This isn't pretty. But if you have any kids who are getting to the age of either driving drunk or having the opportunity to make a decision to get in the car with a drunk driver, this may or may not be something you want them to see. The Scared Straight program was proven to have some value in deterring youth from crime. I think this might have some value in deterring them from driving drunk or even letting a friend drive drunk. I'm sure you'll let me know if you disagree...

See what happens when you don't think!

Judgements

This video says it all...how we make split second judgements about people based on either our ignorance or experience. That old cliche, "you can't judge a book by its cover" is a cliche because it's based in truth. Aren't all cliches? Check this out.

Standing Women Report

Well, I went down to the river yesterday to "stand to save the world" as part of the Standing Women. It was such a beautiful day, I was going to walk the dog down there, but I couldn't find his leash and ended up driving. I didn't expect a crowd, but I thought there would be SOME people. At ten to one, there was no one! I took a seat on a bench facing the river and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my face. Since I don't sunbathe (haven't since my early 30s), it felt decadently good. There was a cool breeze and birds calling and it just felt good to be outside after being cooped up all week in my office.

I figured, oh well, so it will just be me. It was worth a try. It wasn't mine, but it was a good idea and I was going to see it through. I looked around, and a few minutes later, I noticed a small band of four women and a young boy walking along the boardwalk. I could hear their voices clearly. One of them said that "it's supposed to be behind Sears" and I knew I was not to be alone. I got up and approached them.

"You're here for the Standing Women?" I asked.
"Yes"
"Great! I thought I was going to be the only one!"

Introductions were made and they laid out their lunches on a picnic table. They had heard about it from someone who had emailed them from the city! That must have come from my original email blast. But they also saw it in the paper. One woman brought several bells to share.

On the stroke of 1:00pm (I used my cell phone for correct time), we rang the bells and I struck my chime, and we just stood in silence. I focused my thoughts on words that evoked feelings for me: peace, abundance, health, love, acceptance, friendship, respect...and also the planet enveloped in radiant white light. I was aware of the sun, the breeze, the birds, the "green" smell...that all helped to focus on the good stuff. I only checked the time once before the five minutes were up. When I did, I also looked up and saw our small band of women and one small boy just standing there, separate but together. I wasn't disappointed anymore. At 1:05, I struck my chime. My fellow standers rang their bells, and I turned and saw two other friends who had arrived a bit late. We all talked a little about what we had visioned. We talked about being moms and how we should do this again. I wonder if it had not been Mother's Day, if more people would have come. I wonder if this were more successful in more urban areas. There are still many people who don't "get" positive visualization and the power it can have.

In the end, I left the river that afternoon with a sense of both having done something positive, but also of having not done enough.

For Jeanne

I was doing some spring cleaning today and happened upon a box of old stuff. I found this thing I wrote about my mom three months before she passed away. It was meant to be a tribute to her, one she could read before she died. And yes, I did give it to her. I’d forgotten all about it. I thought it was kind of synchronistic…me finding this now. Not only is Mother’s Day (May 13) approaching, but the anniversary of her death is, too. May 12. Next weekend is going to be rough, so if I’m going to do this, I better do it now…

Whenever I read a tribute to someone, it’s to someone who has died. The other night, I was driving to a rehearsal for a play I’m in and I started thinking about my mother’s situation. About how I was going to dedicate my performance in this play to her. And then I thought about writing a tribute to her before she dies. A way to express my gratitude and love. She was diagnosed as having inoperable cancer January of 1993. They gave her three to six months. Here it is, February of 1994 and Mom is still hanging in there. Am I surprised? Not really. I learned early on that in this struggle of life, I am a survivor. No matter what curve ball comes my way, now matter how awful it gets, I refuse to be beaten. Now I know where I got that quality from. From both my parents, actually. But I think mostly from Mom.

All my life, one thing was very clear to me about my parents. They were not only very much in love, but they were always there for each other. Most marriages have rough patches, but I know my parents had some abnormally difficult times. And they stuck with it because, I suppose, it was worth it to them. They have traveled that road for more than 40 years together. And now, as they are facing the imminent death of one of them, the “finite-ness” of their “couple-ness,” to coin a couple of words, it is ever more clear what a symbiotic relationship they have. And it is ever more clear the strength my mother holds within her.

I remember mom when I was a child. I remember how pretty she was and how gentle and kind and understanding she was. She has never failed to be there for me when I needed her. Now that I am a mother myself, I can say with some certainty that she would disagree with that. But if she were right, the times she failed were not important, because I have no memory of them.

I remember her comforting me when I was sick, or was in any kind of emotional turmoil. Some cruel children would make fun of my skinny, flat-chested adolescent body and painfully shy self. She kept assuring me that I was like her, a “late bloomer.” “Wait until you get a little older,” she’d say. “The boys won’t know what hit ‘em!” She was right, too. Oh, no, I didn’t turn out to be a bombshell or anything like that, but those hormones eventually did work their magic and I did eventually become a woman…wonder of wonders.

During my high school years, she dispensed wisdom, warmth and advice to many of my girlfriends, who found it easier to talk to her than to their own mothers. It was she who advised against fighting with my best friend over a boy. “Boys will come and go in your life, but good friends last a lifetime.” That struck a chord deep inside of me and I and I took that lesson to heart. She gave me my first inkling that there was a “sisterhood” among women, and I liked that. I am still friends with that 4^th grade girl. It is rewarding and comforting to have someone who has known you for over 30 years and still calls you her friend.

You can always confide in her about anything and never feel you are being judged. She has always had a kind of healing aura, loving and nurturing, and completely selfless. She has a highly refined sense of empathy and has always been extra sensitive…you could say she is psychic. She is an “old soul,” as they say, and has been known to predict the future or read your mind.

Some people are givers and some are takers and some are in between. Mom is all giver. A little later in life, she finally learned to take a little, and my sister and brother and I cheer her on. Always a big supporter of her children’s creative side, now she delves more deeply into her own, which was always sort of simmering on the back burner. She makes ceramic figures and paints them. She has painted portraits of the whole family, but her favorite subjects are animals (especially young ones). Her landscapes are my favorite. There is a wistfulness in them, a dreaminess that makes me want to escape into them. And her poetry! It is because of her that all three of her children are so right-brained, I think.

When she was diagnosed as terminal, my sister and I flew from New York to Florida to visit her. It was really hard, but, in keeping with the open communication we always shared, we talked about her death. We decided that we were all very lucky, because none of us had any “issues,” as they say, to deal with. Mom is ready. Of course, she would prefer to stick around a lot longer, but she has lived a good and rewarding life, and she has no unfinished business to hurry up and deal with. And she isn’t afraid of what comes after death. We know she is going to a better place. And no one deserves that more than she does, in my opinion. She faces every day with a sense of humor and a courage that I don’t know if I could ever have. She is just afraid of the pain. Who wouldn’t be? But she knows we will all do anything we can to make sure this doesn’t happen. We will do anything she asks.

My mother has a spirit that is very special. A rare combination of wisdom and innocence, of strength and fragility, that captures most everyone she meets. This world has been blessed by her presence. And I have been especially blessed to have her as my mother. Because much of what I like most about me comes from her. Just having a chance to know her and be loved by her is a gift unlike any other. I don’t know any woman who doesn’t have some complaint about their mother. You see endless magazine articles about the problems between mothers and daughters. I know how lucky I am to have Jeanne as my mother. I love you, Mom, and I’ll miss you. But I will carry you in my heart until we connect again. I know we will.