Monday, 24 June 2013

The Keys to Success

For quite a number of years I have been without cable service and while I have continued to enjoy renting dvd's on occasion and seen more of what has been offered on television through a "Netflix" account (now that dvd rental sources are going the way of the dinosaur) - I have to say that assuming the right frame of mind, there truly has not been comedy written that equals the folly of my own life. Again I must emphasize the "right frame of mind" as on some occasions I am not present to the light-hearted energy required, to see myself and the circumstances of my life with the requisite humour I speak of.

A recent event comes to mind to illustrate my point, I will endeavour to encompass the various nuances necessary to achieve both an entertaining story and some elements of the human journey (well, at least mine).

It all began when I had returned home from morning errands and entered the elevator in the underground parking of my condo building. Just as I stepped into the elevator across the gap between the elevator car and the floor at it's entrance (which must be all of maybe two inches) the fist full of keys that occupied my hand (which share space on ring that has a combination of personal talisman and practicality - i.e. the electronic remote with which I gain access to my car, all of which make the collective difficult, but apparently not impossible to lose).

The keys were plucked from my hands by some invisible force, gravity asserted it's presence flawlessly and the two inch gap in the floor at that instant, might as well have been the ravenous expanse of the Grand Canyon - I watched in a seemingly helpless state of suspended animation while in slow motion my keys disappeared in the cavernous maw with the precision of the perfect basketball shot - "nothing but net!" (describes the ball going directly through the hoop without touching the rim) I swear they never even touched the edges as they vanished.

I stood there in utter amazement wondering - "did that just happen?" rather a pointless question (made more so by me examining my now empty hand - which obviously didn't any longer hold keys and then looked down at the gap in the floor which had now assumed proportions in keeping with it true size and thought "really?" "My keys and all they represent, are down there?" "Not far away really, however they might just as well be in outer Mongolia!!"

Interesting in hindsight that the "reality" of the situation was "immediate" however various elements of "denial" presented before I could actually come to "accept" the situation. I never did actually get angry.... it was more like: "seriously?" "My keys are down the elevator shaft!" "Is that even possible?" "What are the odds of that happening?" "I've stepped into that elevator innumerable times - keys in hand - without incident!" I have to admit that gap in the floor has often loomed in my consciousness - little did I know of it's patient, cunning, calculated plot to possess my keys!"
Often while riding the elevator I have thought - "in the event of a malfunction - I've got at least a book in my backpack, sometimes even a snack." "I could be alright if I had to hang out here for awhile."

Am I afraid of elevators? or claustrophobic? Well, I would typically answer no - but it seems to me as I write this, maybe I'm not as entirely comfortable with the ride as I let on. It seems I  have considered that "something could go wrong here" whilst riding. That looming gap - must trigger (if even unconsciously) thoughts like, "this thing is suspended in a shaft - I've placed (or maybe "misplaced") my trust that this gravity defying, mechanical mode of transportation, will deliver me to my intended destination"). However all this time - the "gap" in the floor has been there giving me that toothless smile of reassurance, which for years has lulled me into a false sense of security, and when conditions were weighted just right in favour of this conception of "Otis" -  it ate my keys!!

"Again I question the odds - do you think I can buy a winning lottery ticket?" "Oh...... no!! (well at least not so far) I wonder how the odds compare? "I beat these odds, impeccably - those keys are good and gone aren't they?"

After a brief period of incredulously staring down the darkened abyss of the elevator shaft I began to reckon with the truth that my keys were in fact at the bottom and were not going to find their own way back into my hand. So on to "acceptance" and a plan of action to deal with the ever present reality that I, had eventually reconciled with.

A ride to the main floor and I can call on one of the owners that is on the Strata council (and does some building maintenance etc.) he's "always around" - accept of course, when he isn't, again the odds don't seem to be rolling in my favour. I knock at first hopefully and then as the rhythm of my assault on the door echoes, though it yields me nothing more, than a stark indomitable barrier between me and the reunion with my keys. I wax philosophically for the moment: "if you knock on a door and nobody answers - is it any different than not knocking at all?"

Feeling a little deflated I look around - rode the elevator back to the basement, stared for  a moment longingly down the shaft (nothing had changed). I got off put my vest in the access door to the parkade so I wouldn't get locked out there and walked around to the opposite side  of the elevator where a metal utility door labeled "elevator room" exists - trying the door, I discovered it to be locked as well. Hmm... there's a theme developing in my day - there seems to be a series of locked doors between where I am and where I want to be. Well..... now I know there is an "elevator room" - I'm not sure what I'm going to do with that information, but it might be useful later and in this moment it will keep the less than helpful part of my mind from spinning the light catastrophic.

Back on the elevator and up to  the main floor - another knock on the door of the resident maintenance guy, still not home (seriously he always here vacuuming, sweeping in the parkade, washing the floor in the elevator, raking leaves - what makes him think he's free to have life and leave the premises at a time like this?)

So I sit down on the couch in the main entrance lobby - I have a newspaper and a couple of books in my bag, I guess I can just chill for now. I slip into a little "act as if" isn't this a pleasant, beautiful sunny day, I can look out the front entrance at some of the plants and shrubs in "our" garden, watch the occasional people walking by outside - they seem not to have a care in the world. Some look in and see me sitting there - we exchange a glance and a smile, a moment of connection. I sit there embodying the portrayal of someone just enjoying the morning paper or waiting for someone to pick me up - probably look completely as though it is my "intention" to be here. (except every now and again my mind is screaming - "you are not supposed to be here - this is not okay, your damn keys are in the shaft!")

"Oh please - give it a rest!" I know where the keys are, what would you have me do?" "I'm waiting for Duane (the maintenance guy to walk through that door - for now, this is where it's at, breath........ and relax).

Just then another neighbour from upstairs arrive through the front door. She sees me sitting there with my newspaper and we exchange pleasantries: "Nice day to be relaxing with the paper eh?" "Why yes it is - I haven't sat out here before it is rather pleasant." (she has no idea what is going on here - I have a couple of choices - I can jump into hyper-alert image management (which for some significant portion of my life has been the default) and keep this story line going or......... "You'll never guess what happened!" says I). I then proceed to tell here what happened and ask if she has the number of "Sharon" at the property management office. "Yes I do she replies" - she retrieves the number from her cell phone I save it into mine and she wishes me good luck.

I place a call to Sharon - only to be invited to leave a message on her voicemail, which I accept. This after all seems to be some small measure of progress. Okay back to my reading and chillin'. Oh no..... for sometime now I've had the vague (and now not so vague) sensation that the morning intake of tea and water was asserting it's diuretic influence. Oh ya.... this it..... the time is now (or very soon!) So I start knocking on doors up and down my corridor ...... great! middle of the day everyone's at work! The final door is to a suite that is leased by an agency as a small group home - I knock on the door and the care worker answers - "yes can I help you?" Time to once again lower the pride and not allow any latent shame energy to raise the shields - I explained to him what happened and  "now while I'm locked out and waiting I really need to use a washroom - could I please impose on you?"
"Sorry he answers, my client has just gone into the tub and he in there for a good 40 minutes." "Thanks anyway - I walk away somewhat deflated again and with a growing urgency. Maybe if I just ignore it - the urge will pass? A very short while indicates to me - No in fact this is not the case, "I am bladder hear me roar." Oh for God sake - I could go to the market or restaurants in the neighbourhood but then I'm locked out of the building entirely. This calls for some creativity - I'm going to have to think outside the box (probably well outside that of social convention).

So back down in the elevator I go - block the door again with my vest so I can access the parkade. I look around - AHA!!! a floor drain - even better, another one around the corner in case someone arrives home through the main doors while I'm committing this act. Ah..... sweet relief ........ oh shit! "I wonder if there are any security cameras down here?" "Oh well...... if so, this is going to be my on screen debut then, because there's no stopping now!"

Upon returning to the main floor I then received notification on my cell phone that I had missed a call from the property manager while in the concrete unground parking, I had no signal. I called her back (concluding there was no pressing reason to explain how I missed her call) and she said she was going to be in contact with the elevator maintenance people and see what could be done - then she'd call me back. So back to my front lobby vigil - what an odd experience, to be in my building but to have no access to my own home - my thoughts turned to homelessness - not that this brief "inconvenience" could replicate the myriad of ongoing realities that those on the streets must face. Obviously I was going to get back in - I just didn't know when. So if anything this illuminated my want of control and my reckoning that at present I had none (well except I could control what I thought and how I handled myself along the way). I also had the luxury of recognition from the other owners that happened by while I was hanging out in the lobby. They appeared to be somewhat puzzled, each doing a double take, that spoke for itself - "this isn't quite right, nobody hangs out in the lobby, but then they must have decided - "who cares I recognize him - he lives here, I guess he can do what he wants!"(of course that could be entirely my projection of what I think, they're thinking!) They more likely are just thinking about there own day and life.
The property manager called back - she says a rep (some executive of the elevator company) had to go to a meeting and he needed to go through my neighbourhood to get there. So he would drop by in about forty minutes.  Yippee!! I was going to be liberated!!
He had apparently asked if I could both wait at the entrance to let him in and help him with the elevator door by holding it open when the time came. I replied - "As it turns out, present circumstances dictate that I pretty much remain right where I am!" "Right" she replies, "I guess you've had better days - I just meant, he would need someone to let him in."
Hearing this, I realized that my attempt at levity was being misread - I apologized saying, "I'm sorry, I was just trying to make light of the situation, I really appreciate your help and of course I will cooperate any way I can to resolve this."
"Well I hope your day get's better!" she says. I thanked her, but thought after hanging up - I would definitely prefer my keys were in my pocket than at the bottom of the elevator shaft, but "my day" wasn't really that bad! Interestingly she seemed to sound more upset about this than I was (or she thought I should be more upset about this than I was). Without question I can think of times and events in my life that were similar in nature but that absolutely were allowed to colour my perception of the day (maybe even for many days to follow) in some cases I could "relive" the experience well after the fact - just by recounting the story. This just wasn't like that - I had by now contacted my afternoon appointment, told him the whole story and indicated depending on timing, I might not be available for our meeting. Again I felt the freedom and relief of just telling the truth. Yes I felt - some degree of self-consciousness as I texted the message, but then I thought, it actually doesn't matter what he thinks or if he believes me, this actually is what happened. My reference to life being more entertaining than fiction directly applies here - I actually thought at one point, I'm like my own sit-com! Good screen-writing might be hard-pressed to come up with a more amusing story. I have a fairly active imagination but it generally doesn't engage in "a story" quite as elaborate as this one (just to get out of a meeting).

A fellow arrived at the door a short while later - and introduced himself as the elevator company rep. We walked the short distance to the elevator door during which time he demonstrated himself to be generous and gracious of spirit. Without me saying anything he said "you wouldn't believe how frequently this sort of thing happens." (His comment - of course was reassuring, even though by now, overwhelming, my feeling was relief rather than concern). I was grateful he was not the sort to "kick a man when he's down" - sadly there are those (often men) that while unconsciously engaged in "one-upmanship" they do a pretty good job of "shaming" one another. Perhaps in recounting his day he would speak of the "dufus" and his keys - but he seemed empathetic at the moment.

We went down to the basement where he stuck a special tool in a small hole in the door (which looks like a "peep-hole" in regular doors) this somehow gets the elevator to rise above ground level so when you hold the doors open you can now jump down in the shaft under the car. He was in and out of there in two minutes. He then informed me that he was glad he was available to do this because if one of the elevator techs made a "service call" it would have cost $150.00 - which he said he couldn't justify charging. More cause for gratitude!!

Interesting to me the "challenges" I have with keys. Over my time in this building I have run out to the neighborhood store (and reasoned I don't need to lock my apartment door - "I'll only be 10 min.") only to discover when I came to get back in the building, my reasoning apparently included I didn't need keys - so I needed to buzz a neighbour to get in. Another time I took both the front door key and my unit key loose in my pocket while I went running (so I wouldn't have the "bulky key ring.") As I was returning I put my hand in my pocket to discover a hole and only one of the two keys remaining (again I had to buzz the neighbour to get in the main door). Now this latest key fiasco! Too frequent to be "random" in my mind - what is the lesson here? Perhaps drawing my attention to the need to be more consistently mindful.

There seems to be a theme around me being "locked" out - I'm on one side of a doorway that I perceive to be blocking me from where I want to be. But just as I can choose how I view any given circumstance (i.e. "my day is ruined" or "okay these are the circumstances - what needs to happen now.") so perhaps the "key" to the locked door (the blocks - the perception of limited) is me.


Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Holy Ground



A misguided lifetime spent laboriously erecting a monument

Built upon marshland revealing the truth of a dubious foundation

An elaborate fa├žade prevented outward vision – light’s inward penetration

Long dark corridors echoed a vast emptiness

A muted bell called out an invitation to worship

That remained unheard and unanswered

In a moment of near blinding realization

The lone occupant is startled by a staggering truth

Will life now permit time for its realization?

A mighty demolition has been called for

All that was built in vain

Must now be torn asunder

Once all that was visible

Has been vanquished

Then and only then

Will those that walk there

Know they stand upon holy ground

Friday, 7 June 2013

Dream a Little Dream (With Me)

I wonder, do "dreams" come from the same place as inspiration ("creative" or otherwise?) Perhaps there are no dreams or inspiration that doesn't begin as creative energy - having as their origins the source of all creation. This energy is individuated to different hearts/souls here on planet earth which might explain why everyone doesn't have the same dream (and could lend a clue to "purpose.") As such there is no one that can claim to "not be creative" - as everyone dreams, don't they? So if it can be accepted that the creative energies of the universe are infinite with respect to reach and possibility and everyone dreams (or has had "an idea") then nobody is without creative potential. In this light maybe what could be broadened, is what constitutes creativity and/or an act of creation (at least for those who continue to insist they "aren't creative."

When I refer to dreams in this case I'm not referring to the visioning or processing of the subconscious that typically occurs while asleep (unless you happen to be awake at the time). Neither am I suggesting that these dreams aren't linked with the processes of creation - they just don't happen to be my particular focus (or expertise) in this article (of course I've been wrong before - so they could work their way in at some point).

I'm more making reference to that which one "aspires to" or that which has come to be used synonymously with "goals."(though the distinction is getting increasingly unclear even as I write). What began this foray into the realm of dreams? I sat down at my coffee shop (cum office) with the intention to work on my book manuscript - upon the in house stereo is Judy Garland singing "Somewhere Over a Rainbow." (.... "and the dreams that you dare to dream, really do come true.") as I listen to this line I am deeply moved and immediately feel an unexpected melancholy and my eyes well with tears) - first of all I must state up front, this is all rather inconvenient - this doesn't seem to me the time or the place! Second though I quite like the song and even the movie (this goes for me, beyond sentimentality for either).

So then, with respect to creativity, this may well be nothing more than a "creative" diversion from the writing I had "intended" to do. Perhaps testimonial to the ease at which my "monkey mind" can be lured from it's original aim and intention. Fortunately the scope of this sort of departure is well-suited to this blog (failing that, I have an in with the editor - I'm confident I can get him onboard!)

Why then the emotionality around dreams (it's fascinating to me - I had no such feeling this day thus far) until....... I was sucker punched - right in the heart! Now I had been to my early a.m. "Kundalini Yoga class" (the "kriya" focus today was the "Throat Chakra") as I consider this, it occurs to me that one means of bringing dreams to realization is through the speaking of them (i.e. Martin Luther King - "I have a dream...."). Now maybe it could be argued that my dreams are not of the "calibre" of his - of course no sooner do I write that, I realize in fact they have been, the truth is that there has been far less in the way of "action" on my part (which doesn't nullify my being "the receiver of the dreams" it would however suggest there has been some sort of disconnect with respect to the realization of the dream). Certainly there have been innumerable ideas, inspirations etc. that I in effect ran interference with. Perhaps the chants and meditations today - got in there and stirred up some grief around "unrealized dreams" - long forgotten (and maybe even more recent) occasions, where I didn't speak my truth. How many of my "bigger dreams" have been denied through remaining silent or through questionable effort and half-truths? (on a day to day basis this is bound to have an accumulative outcome - generally not one I am likely to want to celebrate).

Undoubtedly the way in which I hold myself in relation to the dreams has (and will continue to)  require revision (particularly with respect to my capacity to make the dreams real - "belief in self") the dreams themselves aren't "the problem" -  I need to think more of my ability to be part of the manifestation and see myself perhaps as less important, than the realization of the dream (I'm not suggesting a mindset of "low-self esteem," rather - the reward would come as a result of the expenditure of "self" on a mighty dream, that ultimately is of more "value." I've heard it said that if one has the capacity to dream the dream - then they also have what it takes to bring the dream into being. Also, that when one commits - "Providence" moves and circumstances and resources shift or become available that were previously unknown. Certainly this makes "sense" when considered in the context of dreams/inspiration being divine in nature and that each member of humanity through their unique gifts are the hands and legs with which inspiration is made manifest. (of course humans are capable of being a largely destructive force as well).

Clearly there can be a great deal of blood, sweat and tears on the road to "dreams come true" - I begin to wonder if the choice to shelter oneself (myself) from the "hardships" of a cause greater than myself, doesn't perhaps bring about more suffering than what might appear on the surface to be the fruitless, thankless, under-taking of seemingly insurmountable realities.

Maybe they are not "my" (our) dreams - maybe "we" are being "dreamed" while I've been busy through my life chasing after aspects of "the American dream" and lamenting falling short of "Living the Dream" - God/Great Spirit/Universal Intelligence has been trying to lay out for me my part (might well be the formula for lasting contentment (again for me) - you have your own dreams, doesn't mean our paths might not meet, but likely there can be no contentment following someone else's dream (hint: have you ever seen statistics on the yearly sales volume of anti-depressants?).

Thing is, one might get little or no support from family, friends, or co-workers when it comes to "following your dream." Of course I've been there - following the crowd, looking for validation and approval from what everyone else is doing - what can I say..... sat at the table, looked around to see how the game is played, hung on every number as it's called....... at the end of the day NO BINGO!! I know how to fix it........ more cards........ more daubers!!!!!!

Hell No!......... I finally figured it out (maybe!) the "house wins" (and will continue to win!)

Time for a new game! Resurrect the dream ..... dream a new dream! This time ..... perhaps I don't treat inspiration like the "cable movie network" - less talk & more rock!!

Then again - pinch me someone - I may be dreaming!!





Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Live and Let Live!

What if you were told you have a terminal disease and only a finite time remaining - what would you do with the time remaining? (Of course I'm referencing one of the questions often posed to offer one reflection on what they value - whether they are actually engaged in it in any way - if not, why not? etc).
It's not my intention to be morose, however, in effect everyone's life is "terminal" in that it is going to end and therefore even without diagnosing a particular "disease" process, the time remaining is finite.

The reference certainly reminds me that I don't have endless time (though I still can drag my heels) it also speaks to me with regard to value and reverence for life.

I have come to once again consider this, as a consequence of the "rescue plant" that is newly adorning, while taking residence on, my condo balcony. I am not fluent where flower identification is concerned but I'm going to say it could be of the chrysanthemum family - it has purple - (perhaps mauve depending on one's awareness  beyond primary colours) "daisy-like" petals, a white softly defined bordered center, with a solid black circular button right in the middle. (if you live in the Victoria area come on over for tea and play "name that flower" - of course if you are from out of town you're still welcome, I recognize I might have to up the ante to make the trip worthwhile (mind you, it is Victoria as Spring transitions into Summer - need I say more?)

So I came to acquire said plant a few days ago. I was about to go out and was getting in my car in the building underground parkade. I could see this plant sitting on top of the recycle bins. It's really quite huge and I thought maybe it was "artificial" and someone got tired of it. When I examined it more closely turned out to be the real deal. It is in a twelve inch pot, the growth is so tall, thick and plentiful that is was supported with a wire hoop to help keep it all upright. The foliage is just a mass of the a fore described flowers. I couldn't conceive why someone would throw away such a beautiful plant. Sure it needed a little "dead-heading" but having said that, it has many buds that haven't even bloomed yet!

I suppose there could be as many reasons for it being abandoned as there are people and reasons - but after I decided it was coming home with me, I wondered to myself, is life "so cheap" do we live in such a throw-away world, that such a beautiful living entity can so abruptly outlive it's "value." I know the answer in part, just by observing all the household belongings that find their way to the boulevards of the city for reclamation. Generally they are "inanimate" objects and I suppose as they say "one man's junk is the next man's treasure. It certainly raises questions for me with respect to consumption, excess, satisfaction and redundancy. My queries/observation come devoid of what used to be my hallmark self-righteousness (after all, I consume and discard). I've even thrown plants away - mind you I did hold out until all hope of resurrection was lost! My personal habits with respect to consumption etc. are under ongoing scrutiny. Really, the whole work to earn, earn to spend, spend to have, have to dispose, cycle really seems to me, to leave a great deal to be desired. I mean clearly many a life is spent indulging in just that - I'm just not clear, that for me, it defines "living."

I tried to keep up with the Jones' - and it just seemed to me, I if I'd had a tail, I was chasing it, so I concluded that it would be preferable to concede defeat, hoist the whole Jones clan upon the podium and set about exploring life through an entirely different lens. This decision then began to give shape and intention to a dance that ebbs and flows within the culture of the consumer economy. In doing so it has become part of a shifting, expanding consciousness for me. Again I must point out, that as this transformation takes place - it certainly entails different mindsets and subsequent ways of being than were my long-term practiced norm, however, the shifts don't involve me now occupying a place of "superiority" over those that are still fully participating in that which I have decided doesn't serve me any longer. As I said I have presumed the path of righteousness bordering on piousness with regard to my choices and have since learned how alienating that can be for me - connection being one of my values, I eventually came to see how my ways of being were counterproductive. I came to understand that underlying my over-zealous representation of my viewpoint, was still a lack of self-confidence, so I was unknowingly trying to over-compensate in the "defence" of my choices, rather than just living them.

I now practice standing in my truth, being open to hearing the truth of others (and what they value) and am moving to embrace living for and into, what I believe in - rather than always criticizing that which I disagree with. (I did say practicing - which is not meant to be an excuse, but allows me my humanness which, will invariably present in the form of judgement and criticism) not surprisingly in those moments when I'm feeling less secure about myself.

Life in it's various forms is just such an amazing gift - I really appreciate and value it today! Sure I gripe about my circumstances sometimes (get mired in my processes and sometimes take myself way too seriously) - I also remind myself that when I sit in healing circles I am there to bring my shadows to the light (not to continue to uphold and preserve my well-crafted persona) so it might not be the most uplifting content you'll hear that day, but I also know without question, the very consciousness expansion I speak of, is being facilitate over time by this very process - so that my view of life is not obliterated by the darkness that once shaped my world view.

I recall a time when I was in my adolescence (round about a week and a half ago) - no, but seriously folks, a friend of mine and I were in his back yard with the pellet rifles we each owned (I suppose these things were instrumental in some way in the orchestration of my evolution - but I have to say they were largely used in a destructive manner. Model planes etc. that had been purchased and pain-stakingly assembled, pre-becoming "armed," were reduced to garbage in the target box) - so there we were, with our "weapons of mass-destruction" and we observed birds in the raspberry bushes! Instantaneously the inanimate objects lost their target-appeal - we both took aim at berry-raiding robins. We were soon both "successful" with our intention (we ran to our respective trophies) upon arriving I could see that I had indeed hit my intended target, but that it was not mortally wounded - I stood horrified as I looked upon the suffering that I had inflicted and that was still occurring. My stomach turned and my hands shook as I set out to finish what I started - it was a heart-wrenching experience. (It is not my intention to speak for or against gun ownership or hunting - this is simply a reflection of my experience and there can be no comparison to those in hunter/gatherer cultures that take life in a sacred way, with respect for the sacrifice of one life to sustain those of many - my recollection is one of, the senseless taking of a life completely ignorant of any reverence for life).

Currently in my more mindful moments, I walk around the ants and other insects I see walking on the sidewalk. Of course at other times I'm sure a trail of carnage traces my footsteps. I once read of monks of some order, that avoided walking on the grass as they would be unable to avoid crushing countless living creatures. (I don't observe such practice - though I'm awed by the consciousness). I have also observed after a rainfall all the earthworms out on the pavement and subsequently the number that get fried where they lie. I have on occasion placed some back over to the grass or garden. Then I wonder, what if it was heading in the other direction? (took all morning to get where I "rescued" it from) There it sits in the grass where I relocated it - cursing me for my "interference." Insects have been part of my own personal catch and release program from within my home (albeit sometimes with the aid of a glass or jar - reverence doesn't necessarily mean I want to touch them -  I've seen some folks sporting some really nasty looking spider bites from around these parts, and I've yet to discover specifically which are the culprits responsible - so they all are suspect at this point). I have to confess some of the attempted rescues resulted in premature death, due to lack of dexterity in the moment.

During preparation for Sweat Lodge I have observed and participated in the expulsion of bugs of some sort or another, from the fire pit before the hot stones (grandfathers) have been brought in - it is a new orientation to life I am waking to - that resonates for me personally (it doesn't necessarily represent the one and only way to live - though, come to think of it, it does for the beings whose life is spared in any given moment). 

While in the local grocery store I sometimes fantasize this "Free Willy- Pied Piper" thang - as I lead all the live crabs to freedom! I'm not entirely vegetarian, still eating the occasion fish or chicken - we'll see where that goes.

Does any of this make any difference overall - it certainly does to my "quality of life" as for my rescue plant which is thriving on my deck currently - I looked out yesterday and there were many bees flying around the flowers doing their thing. Other sources I've read, tell me the bee populations are in danger so you tell me..... in that moment, the rescue plant was serving some bees,  more and more I believe it's not for me to play God and decide what (and whom) lives or dies!