Fall

This year, Fall has flown by. Actually, the entire year has flown by. This Fall, we made a trip to Larry's Produce for pumpkins and play. We braved the rain for the Waldforf's Wanderer's Way and of course, there was Halloween. It all went by in the blink of an eye but we still had fun nonetheless. 

What A Long Strange Trip It's Been

The Grateful Dead. A band, a community that has been part of my life on and off for over thirty years. Music that had touched my heart, brought reflection at my core and a community that taught me more than words can tell. 

I recently had the privilege (along with ten's of thousands!) to say Fare Thee Well to the band and this community during their last concerts together. To say it was bittersweet would be an understatement. Ever since Jerry (Garcia) died, I would catch shows with the remaining band whenever I could. There was Saratoga Springs, Shoreline and a few other places. I took Don with me at their last shows when I was 8 months pregnant with Havana. For those of us who love the Dead, the music brings us together to a place where we share great music, along with the peace, community and idealism that was born in the sixties. Jerry's sweet guitar playing and that voice that sang to so many, might have been gone but his presence was always present. 

Havana is six now so it's been a long time since I got to hear, sing along to and dance to the Dead live. I'd wondered for quite some time if they would play again. Rumors or ego's butting heads and other drama circled around but this year, on their 50th anniversary, the boys would be back on tour for one last go at it. That was music to my being.

When the band announced they would be playing a few shows to commemorate their 50th and to say goodbye, I knew I had to be there. Since my children were born, I have let many a show, trip, event, etc, pass me by. What was once important was not so important any longer. I have long learned that I am not better or worse if I do or don't do or experience something. That would have been true if I had not seen the Dead one last time but in my heart, in my gut, I wanted to go. I saw myself there. I wanted to revisit the energy, music, and scene that was home for so long. 

This time would be different, however. I would bring my kids. Or so I thought. Turned out Havana is not too keen on loud noises and crowds (like her Mama, with the exception of the Dead). So she stayed home with Papa Don and Amara and I headed out. Her first show would be her last but at least she would experience the ride.

One of the things that Amara wanted to do was meet the band. I told her that would not happen in a crowd of 40,000, along with the fact that they would be backstage. It wasn't like when Uncle Sheldon was in town and we head backstage at a gig. No, we would be two in sea of thousands. Well, to my surprise, that turned out to be wrong. Not twenty minutes after we arrived, there came Billy, in a golf cart, driving around on the grass, handing out rolling papers to promote his book.! I was over the moon for Amara. She manifested her wish! (and later to my delight once more, I happened upon a video of my taking a photo of Amara with him, at that exact moment. Ah, the magic of a Dead show.)

  

We Are Everywhere!

Bobby via the huge teletron.

When the show started, just about the time the famous Bay Area fogged rolled in, we were ready to go. We danced and smiled and danced some more. Amara had one other wish, to hear Sugar  Mag. I foolishly told her that might not happen. But sure enough, they saved her favorite for last and sure enough, she told me, "I knew it."

We left with happy hearts, tired feet and joyful spirits.  When Amara passed out in the car, I reflected back on what a gift it was to share that night with her. Life is good.

Pow Wow

 The Original Americans have been a crucial part of my life. Starting at the age of seventeen, which was around the time I was having my first spiritual awakenings, different tribes have played instrumental roles in the building of my core self. From the Hopi's I saw do a rain dance on 2nd Mesa and taught me to believe in prayer and the power of the Creator; to the Shaman who saved my life during my first year at Prescott College and taught me to respect and honor all life; To the Todhono O'odham brother who befriended me during high school and taught me Bon Jovi crosses cultures. From my days in far Northern California when I did vision quests, sweat lodges and prayed all night in the Native American Church, where my faith deepened, where I learned to trust that I had strong intuition, and where I learned to trust the other worlds; to my Blood/Black Foot brother who healed an illness with prayer and medicine, which taught me that Western medicine is only one way to healing; to the South American Medicine Men and Women, whose ceremony aided in the healing of wounds that began at my birth; To the the pow wow's, rituals and more, where I learned to honor Grandfather Fire, Mother Earth and All My Relations; I have been blessed to have the presence and gifts be part of the foundation of who I am.

It is because of these things, that I try to teach my most precious daughters, the importance of those gifts. They know about holy sage and cedar; the importance of honoring the full moon; how to properly receive a gift and that we are all connected. My girls are young; so these lessons must be modeled and taught repeatedly but I trust that they will become part of their foundation as well.

Recently I have the opportunity to take Havana to the Indigenous People's Pow Wow in Berkeley. Havana shies away from loud noises and as we approached the park, she resisted. With some coaxing, we proceeded and like magic, once she saw the dances with her own eyes, she was mesmerized. She led me to a shaded spot on the grass, where we took it all in. I was sick that day, had a wicked cold, but my heart and soul were happy, being in that auspicious place with my Baby Girl.

Havana later got herself some earring and made a necklace, her own medicine necklace, the sister told us. Havana has been wearing them proudy since.  

In the years since I became a mother, I have let slide some of my daily practice. Yet, I never forget to give thanks to the Creator and honor the earth. However, there are times when I long for ritual and ceremony. So on that day, in the park, watching that pow wow, it was like a drink of water on a hot, humid day. And for thank I say, Give Thanks. 

My Shero

My Warrior Grandmother, Melba Sanchez-Lau, celebrating her 92nd birthday. I was not there but thanks to cell phones I was able to receive t his great photo. Here is with her sister, my favorite Aunt, Marbella, who came in from Puerto Rico, to join the celebration and my younger sister Sabrina.

I have been very blessed to have had such amazing grandmothers; from the two I was raised with in my adoptive family and the two from my bio family, who are still alive and going strong. Grandma Melba is currently facing some health issues which has reminded me of the importance of being kind to those you love and giving thanks for their presence in my life.

Returning to the Old

After trying a new blog host for several months, I have decided to return to Blogger. While the other host had many added features, I found it too cumbersome to navigate. Especially, with the uploading of photos. Being able to upload one photo at a time was too daunting and even that, it seemed to take  much longer than I was able to have patience for. There were a few other issues as well but I kept at it, thinking I would get used to the new site . Then I realized I had stopped blogging despite my creative juices still flowing.  I also got feedback from others that they were not able to find old posts and so that was the deciding factor. One of my intentions with the blog is to share our lives with my loved ones who are far and wide. If that was not working, I needed to return to what did work. 

Thankfully, Don is a master at all things computer and was able to export the posts I did make at Typepad back to Blogger. For my first new, old post, I have chosen a photo of Ms. Havana's foot during our a Fall outing. 

I look forward to picking up where I have left off in our families journeys these past two months. Life is short and fleeting. Having written word and photographs is one small way I try to make things count and memories last. 

Return of the Fox

One of our baby foxes came for a visit recently. Well, s/he is more like a toddler now. The visit was short but sweet; s/he took a turn on the trampoline, grabbed a snack from the fruit tree, ran around the yard in circles like a ghost was chasing behind and then made it's way over the fence to wherever toddler foxes go!

We were all very ecstatic that one of our babies is fairing well. I hope that the others come home to visit from time to time as well!