I hope you're too busy having fun today...

to be reading this blog!

Labor Day is one of my favorite holidays--oh, those Labor Day trees, sparkling in the frosty night. Just kidding. I love Labor Day because, for me, it has always been a beginning. I was one of those crazy kids who felt pure delight when school started (equal only to my delight when it ended in June!)--new tablets, new lunchbox (am I dating myself?), new shoes and pencils. Best of all, new books.

I loved that subtle, festive thrill in the autumn air, and the changing leaves. One of the many reasons I have decided to move back to the Northwest. The desert is beautiful, and I will miss it, but I long for those clearly defined seasons. I am a woman, and therefore a creature of cycles--I follow the moon through her monthly dance. It grounds me in a profound way.

On this Labor Day, and hereafter, let us embrace the Mystery. There are so many things we can't understand. There are losses, certainly, and I've been dealing with a little survivor guilt. Still, there is the Mystery. What is this fabulous gift of life? And why were we given it? How is it that, even in the midst of great tragedy and sorrow, the joy is still there, however tremulous and fragile?

Listen for the Mystery. It's that low hum inside you, an underground river that will carry you forward, through all the twists and turns of your most precious gift: your life.

We are older, sadder and wiser, but we are alive. And that is cause to celebrate.

Where does the buck stop?

Recently, I received a forward from one of my closest and most deeply respected friends. (Our political views could hardly be more different, and yet we find common ground in so many ways.)

The piece in question was written by Molly Ivins. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Ms. Ivins, she is a Texan and a journalist of considerable accomplishment. She is smart and she is funny--two qualities I value very highly--and she's not afraid to speak her mind. The forward basically damned the President for his handling, or mishandling, of the Disaster I Promised Not to Talk About (for a while), and I've been thinking about it ever since.

For all Ms. Ivins's qualifications, she cannot be considered unbiased. She makes a career of Bush-bashing, and one can only wonder how she occupied herself while the last President was in office. There was, after all, so little to criticize. (Don't write to me. You won't change my mind. I admired Bill Clinton in many ways, but let's face it, Integrity Boy, he wasn't. He was good in a crisis, provided he wasn't engaged in a sexual pecadillo at the time, and thereby distracted.)

NO, I am not defending the way President Bush has handled the current situation. I am saying that any President, Republican, Democrat, Muggle or Wizard, is an archetypal figurehead representing all Americans. He (hopefully, someday, she) does not stand alone on the pages of history, but inherits, to some degree, the effects of causes set in motion by previous Presidents, along with the responsibility for his own actions and inactions. (I guess, technically, the buck stops with George Washington, but he was a stand-up kind of guy, so no fair blaming him. He had his hands full just getting the thing rolling.)

The current climate seems to be one of putting all the blame on the archetype in the Oval Office. People are furious that there wasn't an instant response to the crisis. As one writer said, it's as if there should have been National Guard troops standing ready at the borders of the Gulf States just in case. What's that about? An operation of this scope takes time to orchestrate, and if it isn't well thought through in the beginning, it will be ineffective at best and compound the problems at worst.

In my humble opinion, we are scapegoating the President, and it's mighty convenient, but the hard truth is, he is our representative. And it doesn't matter how you voted. The reality is, he's the guy. BUT...

WE are the ones who were unprepared.

WE are the grasshoppers who thought it would always be summer.

WE are the people.

And the buck stops, not just with the President, but with us, individually and collectively.

It's easy to point the finger, but is it fair? Is it productive? Is it even realistic?

Time to Stop Talking About the Hurricane

Of course we all care. We all want to help, and indeed we must help. But we cannot afford to become voluntary, indirect victims of this disaster. We will be of no help to anyone, least of all ourselves, if we give in to despair. At least on this blog, we're going to talk about ordinary things. Life-affirming things.

And so:

Have you sent an SASE for your autographed bookmark?

I have completed the 30 day Tarot experiment I told you about, and I've learned a LOT.

Sadie is succeeding on her diet.

I am still doing my 4-minute wonder program and, even though the results don't show on the outside yet, I can FEEL my muscular structure changing.

I'm staying up on my vitamins and other supplements, getting lots of rest, and focusing on what's good in life. There is so much to be thankful for.

I'm working on "Deadly Gamble", the first Mojo book, and going to class at the University of Phoenix.

Most of all, I am counting my blessings.

Stand On High Ground

We've seen the pictures, each one more heartbreaking than the last.
We've heard the stories. Ditto.
The media, often guilty of sensationalizing, is doing what it should--getting the word out there that this is big, this is real, and this is serious. We all need to do what we can.
Having said that, I think it's important to add something.
We cannot afford to wallow in the images. That is like jumping out of the rescue boat into the churning waters, and drowning ourselves. It's not going to help anyone. No amount of feeling bad will make the situation better, and once we've sent that check--and accepted that we'll probably need to send other checks as well, because this is going to take a while--we have to shift our consciousness, make sure we stay on high ground emotionally and energetically.
Have you done all you can?
Then stand on high ground.
We cannot help the victims by suffering with them.
We cannot help them by standing in a place of sorrow.
We cannot help them by being weak.

We all share one consciousness. Once, this was mystical theory. Now, it's scientific fact. Quantum physics. WE ARE ALL ONE, at the deepest, most essential level.

We can help by offering hope.
We can help by rejoicing in all the wonders of life.
We can help by standing strong.

There is plenty of sorrow.
Let us now, with our thoughts, our attitudes, and our prayers, offer what is truly needed.
HOPE. GRATITUDE. STRENGTH.

A Drop in the Bucket?

It's hard, seeing the film of all those people suffering in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. So many stranded, searching for lost loved ones, so many hungry and sick, lost and homeless. So many bereaved. What can one person do? The need seems overwhelming, and no single donation will really make a dent--or so it seems.

Here's what YOU can do. Send a donation. The Red Cross and the Salvation Army are on the front lines, serving meals, passing out blankets, rendering medical aid. Can't send a big donation? Not to worry. Send $10, $5--or even $1. There are 200-plus million people in this country. If they all gave a dollar, that would make a difference, wouldn't it?

Americans are generous. They pull together in a crisis. These are our people, and we must be there for them, in whatever way we can, large or small. Please--don't give in to that sense of helplessness that says you can't make a difference. You can, if you CHOOSE to. It's a matter of pulling together. Of not copping out by leaving it to others.

And there's another thing we can do. We can pray. Prayer makes a difference, even though we do not usually see instantaneous results, especially in a disaster of this scope. How? By providing an unconscious sense of support. You can be there for these people in a vital way, by praying.

Finally, this will be a long road back. Keep praying, and keep giving, whenever you can.

It shouldn't be hard to put ourselves in their places.

There, after all, but for the Grace of God...