writer – Medicinal Conversations

Sensitivity

Sensitivity – otherwise known as feeling deeply – I take the cake, as I know many others do. And I feel it has grown, as I’ve been traveling solo, now, since late 2019. First to distant lands — where life didn’t feel so, in your face; ie capitalism. – of course, I was not working then, and had space to just be. To go where the rivers guided me. There was something, to non Western society, that I cannot put my finger on exactly…but it kinda reminds me of the places I’ve voyaged, now, in the deep South. Places off the grid, so to speak. Where folks don’t walk on eggshells because, well, their shells have been cracked enough. Where kindness is the very rhythm, of people’s hearts – especially in black, impoverished and what some would still name, “redneck” communities. Where I have stopped and talked at a car wash (a whole other kinda car wash — like being in your own driveway with friends) and neighborhood bbq benefits (funny day) of love and crime and all things in between. A drink, offered at no charge, just as on dirt roads in Egypt. These are the exchanges of life, that are deeply felt — I think, because they’re meaningful; honest. Maybe when others have had to learn to *get by,* have gone through hardships, are uncared for by humans in power seats, the capacity for empathy, community(neighborly) and happiness expands.(I know this is a Both/And) I also know that banners, signs and black boxes are beautiful/symbolic — but, I’m not sure if they are so impactful. Truthfully, we sometimes think we know others, before we’ve had a chance to have an encounter. We assume, as well, we know what they want and need before asking the simple and inconvenient questions. I have tears now, feeling into, the way we have treated and are treating one other – The way we take on life and the humans in it, as if there is something to conquer/divide. Currently. The shaming. Punishment. Pretending. I do not not think it’s so much a system’s overhaul that we need, but an emotional one. A capacity to see, hear, leave our bubble. To stop for awhile, sit on a bucket. Elsewhere – and say, “So tell me.”

A New Year

End of year blues or lessons?

May we recognize how much we’ve learned this year about ourselves and community. About history — ancestral, social, political. How it has reared some of its heartless and hurtful parts. How we are learning compassion, tolerance and forgiveness || prioritizing how we want to feel.

May we have begun familiarizing ourselves with our own addictions; pain, control, fear and transmuting these pieces — knowing we are a part of the big night sky. We are meant to be here…Now. Bright. Better. (Not as in more perfect)

May we recognize the importance of health..and reflect often, on what this means. The health of ourselves and its impact on the health of society. And society’s health on us.

Perhaps we don’t shout “Happy New Year,” this year. I don’t know, it doesn’t feel in tune. Does it? Maybe we say, “Welcome 2021.” We are ready. One day at a time — One foot in front of the other.

Arrive easy,

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate.

I wholeheartedly respect my colleagues in Medicine, Nursing, Science and otherwise — As do I Humanity and its Health. But to claim one who chooses not to be vaccinated(whether in the Health field or not) disrespectful and or an antagonist (un comrade like) is to gaslight and manipulate these humans. Humans whose stories, health history, experience one may not know. A body, so complex, diverse and interconnected to all that is in our environment. Diverse and interrelated to all that, which is within.

I’m not here to campaign for or against.(refer to post on vaccine reflections) Nor am I here to provide Data, Science Articles, etc. We have enough(and maybe not enough, currently) of this. And trust me, one will find the data and the contrary data, always — If one searches deep enough. We will also find the vice beneath the virtue. We all hold wickedness, something we’ve all forgotten.

For me I hope to sustain my values of curiosity, listening, observing, the beauty of “all kinds” in my heart and in these spaces. I can truthfully say, “I don’t know” and be very okay with this stance. It’s a place that allows wiggle room, change of heart, different perspective, different science, slowing down. Waiting. It invites in Faith. It invites Mystery. It invites in Life and Death. I know there has been great suffering and loss this year. I did not bear witness to the scenes my friends and family can testify to, in cities such as New York, Chicago, Seattle, Miami, LA. But the feelings/the energy is palpable and recognizable — worldwide.

I do trust my choice(at this time) not to be vaccinated. I know that sometimes “doing good” can be more destructive. We only need to look at our yesterdays, to see this. Maybe applying our oxygen masks before assisting the other, is the choice for, The Vaccine and maybe it’s the choice, against. I will sit in neither virtue right now.

This is my message — I understand the implications of the Pandemic/economic tragedy and perhaps more dismal days ahead. I don’t know exactly what this trajectory looks like, but I know it’s important we take care of ourselves. Self Care is not Selfish. Please reach out to loved ones. If you have a trusting relationship with a Doctor, or another Healer of sorts, it’d be a great time to connect and have a discussion, not only on the vaccine but your Whole Health. If you do not understand your medications you are taking, well, now is the time. If you do not fully understand your disease processes/comorbidities — now is the time. If your MD claims to be your gatekeeper and feels the need not to be transparent and informative/sensitive to your health and needs — the time is now, to get a new Doctor. The time is now — To know thyself.

**And I know there are many that do not want to hear of Philosophy, Poetry and Faith right now. But this is what I bring to the table along with my love of Science.**

Three Texan Women. Three Dogs. And I. One Bathroom.

Two nights ago I sat on the edge of a bathtub, in Oak Cliff TX; (Dallas County) the second stop on my journey to Louisiana from New Mexico. A beautiful white dog with one eye crouched under my legs as three Texan Women and two more dogs took up floor and toilet space. (Not quite socially distanced — but you can probably imagine a Texan bathroom next to a NYC bathroom) The three women and I — A Pisces, Virgo, Leo and Libra (not sure about the dogs’ signs:) were riding out a Tornado. And not just a warning. Something Texans are used to; there was even a siren from downtown Dallas to sound its incoming. Also why do we say “Ride out a storm?” Why not Sit? Crouch? Run? Lol.

So much to say about these women and how they all happened to be/land or live on the current premises and how we gathered in one bathroom that unified us. The gift for me was this: this was my Thanksgiving. Two nights early — minus the food, a table, a familiar face, friends, family. Yet, I made another family, on this stormy night; two of which are now penpals. (I’ll speak on penpals later) Each of the women were around my Mother’s age with the exception of one and all have roughly, the same number of ex husbands.:) Currently all sans Husbands, including myself, as you know.

We spoke of everything under the sun, besides who we voted for. We spoke of my adventures since leaving NYC, fourteen months ago; Egypt really catching their ears. Southern women and their parents, beauty “ideals,” depression, addiction, The Covid 15, (that’s the extra weight) were topics also touched upon. We spoke about Texan old money and Texan new money and the current migration trend around the U.S. of A. We confirmed I must come back for cooking lessons with Claudine, who studied at Paris’s, Le Cordon Bleu at the age of 49. We all agreed, number’s do not matter. But damn, good food does!

To our surprise, it was an hour and a half later when we stood up and exited that lovely bathroom, me returning to my bungalow(airbnb) sans Three Texan women and Three dogs. Just I. What a Day of Thanks.

P.S. The 🌪️ touched down around 15 miles from us.

Pilgrimage

It’s so strange really, the insult, threat and even surprise we feel, when someone prays different, loves different, talks different, looks different — Chooses, different. The intolerance we hold in our hearts, when God speaks 6,500 languages. She probably doesn’t give a shit if we pray or don’t pray, as many that pray, only pretend. *Transaction* The word that comes to mind.

Those that truly pray, are intimately woven with *Reverence* The word that comes to heart. Smiling eyes of a stranger. Counting ten baby toes on a first born — Oh, the holiness of toes. It’s a kneel in the dirt. Fists sometimes pounding a pillow, for all that has seemed and seems unfair. It is screaming for something or someone lost. By the millions. It is to meet a new lover, a new friend and whisper, “I care.” It is to hold a sign that says, ”Enough is Enough.” It is remembering old friends and all they taught us. Showed us — and to let them know, they are part of the threads, back to our own Holiness.

Prayer is to know that all is Holy, all the time. And really, that there is no time — only the time that is passing before we too, become the dirt, we once kneeled in. The mountain we once climbed. The petals on a flower that we picked, asking, “Does he love me? Love me not.” Knowing the answer isn’t part of the prayer. That’s just it. Prayer is a humble surrender to the uncertain. The dark shadows in a forest, on a sunny day. It is not being over or under someone. It is my ten toes and your ten toes, if we’re lucky enough to have our feet, not blown off by war. On a Pilgrimage – Together – Sharing Beauty.

Onward

Well, looks like Retirement — 🌊 1, is about to come to an end. I guess I never felt so strong about this word. Retirement. But this wasn’t the first and it won’t be the last. I will retire to many beach chairs, tables, beds, cities, ranches, countries, states. I will break bread with many people. This I know. It’s why I’m here. To break bread. To listen to stories; something that was quite a deficit in our family, as my Uncle and I just conversed about yesterday. I also know, I’m here to express and share those stories, both theirs and mine –This does not exclude the stories of the land/the sea where I may lay my head. It is as important or more so than the people. Think about that for a minute – Or day. To be in reverence with land, is to be a kinder — more humane human. Whether you’re a human that wants to be left alone or like ants marching (insert Dave Mathews) on colorful city streets, it’s quite the same. Just different music.

Honestly I’d be quite content never donning my Operating Room bouffant again. AND, I know, I will be content in doing so. It will look different as I’ve mentioned. I look different now. Feel different now. Being the curious tot, as my friend in Scotland says, especially around Medicine — How it’s practiced, who’s participating, what does it mean to do what we do, for another, and does it matter Red State or Blue State, gives this career all the more intrigue. Meaning.

This woman here, she’s also got some #goals, though I think I like the word dreams/visions better. Goals sound as rigid as retirement. So, with that said (insert the drums) I will begin my first, Travel Nurse assignment on the last day of this month. In LA. Not to be confused with L.A. It is a place that called me first. Perhaps because I spent time there when I was a child and have very little memories, expect for certain smells. Isn’t that interesting? And something I’m sure many will understand. Some of you will say, “But you love NM,” and my answer is, She will be my anchor. ⚓ Ojo Caliente, is after all, the Crone Energy and She is included in my vision. 😉

Much love and of course more to come….💞

To the White Folk,

To those that think people are coming to your homes to loot you, harm you and Goddess only knows what else is in your heads…you’re not that special. Maybe herein lies the problem and is the root of why we stand so divided, still. It’s not really, just about guns after all. It’s about the man behind the gun. It’s the man that thinks he’s God rather than feels the love of all things Godly in his heart. The man that say’s “I worked for this,” and vows to claim authority over any other that doesn’t work/think as he does — forget sharing/reciprocity. It’s the man that listens literally to the external — no questions. No curiosity. It is the man that builds his fence so high as to prove something, uses all capital letters and exclamation points. No pause. Not a soft semicolon. It is the man that says — Don’t be so sensitive. Don’t cry. Buck up. This man likes to speak in extremes. It keeps his blood pumping. The flag waving.

I personally have seen the rifles at the door. I was called a beggar and a bitch myself. Yes, I hear you #AOC. And this was from the mouths of one of my own Brothers and White Father. I share this because what’s personal, absolutely, is collective. We are a World Family. It’s time to get on board. It doesn’t mean things will be perfect nor will we see the change we want to see in a fortnight. Being a World Family doesn’t mean you need a passport — but we damn well better care for lands and the people of that land we lay our feet on. Being in this world means to see some Divine spark in the eyes of others and if it’s not there, to say — How come? I’m listening. How have I contributed/or not? Being in this World Family means to know that The Divine wants everyone to feel Joy. Freedom. This is our natural state. In my humble opinion, this really is the work between White Men/Women. How many White humans have you been in the presence of, that truly know ecstasy? Ritual? Joy? Unity? Familial/Friendly Love and bonds not built on shame?

Being alive today, this year, in this world means we are witnessing our failed framework — a system of hierarchy; a world designed by and for White Men. It is a world where painful truths were not taught. History, romantically portrayed. Guns equate to heros. Heroes equate to dominance. Winners/Losers. White/Black. Rich/Poor. Man/Woman. To be here today is to be traumatized by War. War literally. War figuratively — Between us or them, red or blue, capable vs not. Dear White folk, we’ve got work to do — Healing and Recovery to do. It would be so easy, soothing, like your mouth to your mother’s milk to maintain normalcy. The thing is, that’s our normal. Not Humanity’s normal. We are a World Family.

#44

Tis the day. I was born. But being born is something I’m used to…again and again. And with birth there is death; also quite familiar with death. I was never baptized. Kinda consider myself lucky — As I have gotten to choose who and what does the baptizing in my many new beginnings. Transitions. I never belonged to the church; also pretty lucky. Those that carry on confessing to a white man, well, I was on to that BS before you could say hallelujah. Anyway what a digression, I wanted to speak on what I’ve learned, mostly between 43 and 44.

I’ve learned that things aren’t as scary as we make them out to be in our head. And now, yes, things are actually kinda scary and it’s not in our heads. It’s not a conspiracy. It’s truly a shake down and break down(personally and collectively) I have learned more love for humans across the aisle and continents. I looked into the eyes of many strangers on my travels and witnessed myself — Love returned. A belonging. I learned that I can do it!! I never set out to prove that — but it sure feels good to climb mountains both literally and not. Btw, I went down a mountain the other day with a man — came up solo. A woman and a Mountain; oh there’s so much more to this. I cannot explain the profound exhilaration at its peak, tears and laughter at once. I imagine it’s the collective feelings of a woman’s soul. Giving birth to something — another Being, her voice, her business, art // HERSELF.

This year, for me, I’ve learned blood is not thicker than water. I’ve learned that not only Spirit has me/holds me/carries me, but my chosen family as well. As I write this it’s like cupid has a thousand arrows in me. I have been love struck by so many beautiful humans — on my many trips around the sun. But this year, now in the arc of our planet’s awakening, I am, to the moon, grateful for the container(a small set) of women on my stage. I am thankful for the deep inquiry, the conversation — the reciprocity. The healing. The “how do we charter these waters?” Together.

“Tits up” (who knows where this comes from?) Oh and…..Life is Fucking short!

Holly

On 2019-2020

Leaving NYC last year, at this time..now, feels like a thousand lifetimes ago. Currently it’s like I’m waiting for the man behind the Green Curtain, in OZ, to show his face. The face we are all holding our breath to see — As it is, so many faces.

I left, not to find some — Thing, but as if it was the next, one foot in front of the other. With the help of the wind, behind my back, friends I am forever grateful for, and an emptied retirement account(I wasn’t going to leave my moola in the hospital’s hands) I set sail; by air. So I guess it’s kinda like I retired. haha/ And it’s time to get back to work….differently of course.

I think I was kinda bored in the city; the same day in and day out. Not that there’s anything wrong with routine/structure. It’s quite helpful. And comfortable. Yet running the same patterns and drill, ie working hard for the money and then seeing it all disappear, in one clean swoop; something wasn’t adding up. And did my salary buy me beautiful and tasty things too…indeed. But that salary couldn’t buy the feeling of a futbol game on a dirt road, in Egypt, with a few young barefoot boys/young girls on the sidelines — rooting and cheering for the team with the woman(from New York) to win. Priceless. These tiny humans are the heroes of my 2020.

From Europe to Southeast Asia. From SE Asia to Northeast Africa and back to Europe again. The end of 2020 a vastly different view than the end of 2019 — For everyone. Trust me I have wanted to skip right back out of America or sail out to sea with some handsome man (in my fantasy) as I’ve been feeling an extreme of emotions. None of what I have to say is probably too helpful in these times; times of unrest, the lifting of the curtain, the new order — or shall I say, the new weird. A weird that is going to get all the more so.

And to those that are finding these days all too inconvenient, disturbing your peace/comfort, ruffling your feathers — well, this is the OZ we’re in. This is the dismantling. The rebirth. The hurt and pain..in our face. This is Justice. This is the people — those that have been on the sidelines for far too long. This is love. This is change.

From August

I sit here in the high Desert of Northern New Mexico. It is August, this I know. Three days after a Full moon in Aquarius, a pandemic and revolution wage on. A divisiveness seeps into American Culture like no other. Today I feel the emotion rage; like the marvelous storm I had pleasure to bear witness to, only days ago. I want to smash my coffee cup against the adobe wall. Let the brown water dissolve this divide, creating a new story, on the smooth mud surface. I’ve lately come to recognize that it’s not about getting it together. That a flying cup across the room, may just be the bridge to freedom. Being cracked wide open as the desert just did, after her perfect storm. A symphony that happens once in 20 years leaving deep grooves, splitting the desert floor wide open; new channels in the making, like the shape of my throat that longs to release her song. To share. Exhale. And clear the tears from her heart that have lived there, hers and theirs for so long. Strong and Dignified, the newly formed cracks say today, “I have you.” May you speak, in all shapes and forms so that others may surrender to the mystery. The wildness. The power. The magic medicine of a desert flower and perfect storm. ⁣