His Name is Michael Jackson

How disrespectful of the media to refer to Michael Jackson as "Jacko" as if he is a clown - a spectacle. It is common for the mainstream media to belittle and demean people of color, especially those who have fame, wealth and power. Every opportunity is taken to not just ruin their name and reputation, but to strip them of any wealth they've accumulated. I personally don't know of any white entertainer who was ever given a clownish or demeaning name regardless of what atrocities they've committed. We've had governors and people in the banking and other commercial industries who have walked away with billions of dollars of taxpayers', employees' and citizens' money only to receive a slap on the wrist and to be reinstated in a new prestigious position somewhere else.

Michael Jackson is the greatest entertainer who has ever lived. Some people may refer to him as a James Brown/Jackie Wilson wannabe, but I feel that's foolish also. He is Michael Jackson and stands on his own acclaim. He is loved the world over, even in America, despite the constant negative American press. Thriller sold over 750 million copies. No other artist in the music industry has ever matched this figure. And, this title has been held by Michael for almost three decades.

Show me footage of any other entertainer who has people (in many countries and of many different cultures) fainting by the dozens just by their mere presence and performance. There is no one in this world, nor has there been - in the entertainment industry - who could even match the power and the magnetism of Michael Jackson.

There is such a fear and a disgust of a Black man having so much power over people, that everything and anything is done to demean, degrade and defile such a person. If he was white, he would be put on a pedestal like the Beatles, like Madonna - only he has real talent. it sickens me how nonwhites are treated in this society and I will continue to speak out about it and against it and continue to pray that it changes.

Crossing Over

People don't understand what I'm doing. At my age, to be pursuing a dream is considered to be folly by many. Dreams are for the young and only the young. My Mother, who loves me dearly, thinks I'm crazy.



But, then there are others who get excited when I tell them what I spend every spare moment doing. They are my secret, silent cheerleaders. I can see it in their eyes when I tell them about my pursuits. Not something they would dare to try themselves because their lives are gripped in fear. Fear of losing, fear of changing, fear of sacrifice. But, I can sense that I am an inspiration to them and the more I grow, the more excited they become and the more they think - "hey, maybe it's not too late for me either." I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is what they are thinking.


But the sacrifice that I make affects my family. My cherished, aging dog who is now 17, who's hind legs sometimes give out as she's descending the stairs causing her to slide, bump and fall most of the way, wants my presence and the comfort of "her protector." Her old body is full of arthritis and bumps and knots that a person would have surgically removed. Her eyes, now gray with cataracts, no longer see well. If you call her, she can't hear you and when resting, she enters a dead sleep that an opening door, a car pulling up, or calling her name won't awaken. In her prime, no one could step on our property without her letting us know. She would intently watch a playful joust with my kids and their friends with her ears up and senses primed - just in case she had to jump in to protect. Her senses greatly weakened, she now needs extra care, attention and love. She's protected, guarded and defended my family her entire life and deserves the things she is looking for from me, but I can't give it to her. I'm in and out of the house, spending no real time there. A "hello" from me, a pat on the head and I'm gone. Sacrifice. Those around me suffer from my lack of presence in the house...


Making a permanent crossover into the artist world has required me to give up many things in my life. Financial comfort, family time, time with my precious animals. I've had one bra for the last three years. There are no shopping trips to buy new clothes, new shoes - cute little tops hanging on sales racks which would normally become the prize of a "hunt," will stay there and become some other woman's trophy. It's okay though. I have to let these things be "okay."


When you choose to look at the world through an artist's eyes, values change, focus changes, perspective changes and love deepens. Rewarding myself on payday at the store is no longer interesting. Rewarding myself by learning more and developing a deeper understanding and feelings in the music is all I ask. This reward is endless. It's like looking up at the sky and understanding God's endless bounty. The deeper you go, the more you realize there is even deeper to go.


I've always believed as Buddhist teachings teach that all things - all life is connected. Native Americans understand also that the spiritual world and the physical world are connected and interwoven. Theoretically, I've always understood these things and accept these beliefs. However, the more the artist in me emerges, the more I sense and understand with my life about these things.

The new york post is a racist publication!!!!

I ask that you write them and oppose this blatant racism. We cannot stand for it. We cannot ignore it. We cannot accept it. We cannot allow it to be.


My letter to the editor of the new york post:






I am absolutely appalled at the racist cartoon that the new york post published. We are sick and tired of the blatant racist ignorance that is constantly perpetuated against African Americans in this society.



You make a comparison between President Barack Obama and a chimpanzee - a dead one at that who had just been shot by white officers. It's despicable, deplorable and shameful. And now matter how the post tries to play it off or cover it up, the racist message is clear and everyone sees through the attempted cover up.



The cartoonist and all of the people on your staff who authorized the publication of this cartoon should be arrested for even remotely suggesting or implying an assasination of President Barack Obama.



The NY Post has shown its true colors by letting the world know where it stands.

-------------------------------------

I ask that you write them and oppose this blatant racism. We cannot stand for it. We cannot ignore it. We cannot accept it. We cannot allow it to be.

Here is the link where you can contact the racist bastards:
http://www.nypost.com/postopinion/letters/letters_editor.htm

Dance For Life!

I started exercising regularly January 1, 2009. It feels good. The body is regaining its flexibility and its agility and I am starting to feel like my old self. I've missed a day or two here and there, but for the most part have managed to keep my resolution. I find I miss it when I don't make this special time for movement and dancing. That 30 minutes a day has become sacred time for me. As I said, it feels good.

I am always grateful for the little things because the little things become big things. I dance because it is a joy and it puts me in tune with essential, healthy vibrations.

So, if you're not moving - what are you waiting for?

If you knew

If you knew you had very little time left on the Earth, how would you spend it?
What would you do?
How would you live your life?
What would you change?
How would you be different?
Would you be different?

We take time for granted because we can do something tomorrow. What if tomorrow doesn't come? Will you have regrets?

Live life backwards.
Write your obituary.
What would it say about you?
Your acomplishments?
Your deeds?
The impressions and impact you had on others?
Did you leave any love behind you?

Happy Birthday Rod!

My little brother - Rod. It's November 17th, the day that he would have turned a year older.

I'm not good with remembering dates - birthdays and such. And, I don't celebrate the traditional holidays - Christmas, Thanksgiving...

But, anyway, November 17th is my brother's day. He would be a year older today. He always found a way to include me in his birthday. I would get a phone call and he'd say "We turned another year older Sis." I never asked him why he would always say "we" when my birthday is in May. But I would always respond with, "Yep, we turned another year older Rod." It was an annual ritual.

This being the second year without that phone call makes me miss it even more. But, I feel him around me at times and especially today I got that message from him loud and clear. "We turned another year older Sis."

Even as I look at his picture that is on my desk, he's smiling and I see a radiance in his face. Other people look at the picture and they see the face of a drawn, scant human being. Though his 6" 2", 240 lb powerful body had been ravaged by AIDS, all I can see is a wonderful smile and a radiance and glow that is unmeasured.

So, little brother, yes indeed, we turned another year older! I love you Rod. Happy Birthday!

Your Big Sister,
Dee Dee

"All the things that we seek to have in ourselves we can find by bringing light to others."

Whenever I see the Salvation Army person out there in the cold ringing that bell, I stop and I shake their hand and say thank you. I try to bring them a cup of hot coffee, tea, or in today's case, a candy bar. I told the woman that it wouldn't keep her warm, but it was something sweet to snack on.

Her face was worn and weathered, as if life aged her far beyond her years. It's the look I've seen many times before. The body of a person who has abused drugs for years and years - thin, frail, drawn skin, no teeth or missing teeth. You neglect your body and everything else for the sake of that drug. People like that, who have turned the corner and are fighting everyday to stay clean, earn my utmost respect. Because I know for a fact that it's not easy. I bow to them, I honor them. They are you, they are me. There is no separating us all from each other.

So in honor and respect of my brothers and sisters who are out there ringing that bell for the Salvation Army, I say thank you, thank you, thank you. They are doing far more for the rest of us than we will ever know.

WE DID IT!!!

I think Michael Moore said everything so very well. Here's his message:

Wednesday, November 5th, 2008

Friends,

Who among us is not at a loss for words? Tears pour out. Tears of joy. Tears of relief. A stunning, whopping landslide of hope in a time of deep despair.

In a nation that was founded on genocide and then built on the backs of slaves, it was an unexpected moment, shocking in its simplicity: Barack Obama, a good man, a black man, said he would bring change to Washington, and the majority of the country liked that idea. The racists were present throughout the campaign and in the voting booth. But they are no longer the majority, and we will see their flame of hate fizzle out in our lifetime.

There was another important "first" last night. Never before in our history has an avowed anti-war candidate been elected president during a time of war. I hope President-elect Obama remembers that as he considers expanding the war in Afghanistan. The faith we now have will be lost if he forgets the main issue on which he beat his fellow Dems in the primaries and then a great war hero in the general election: The people of America are tired of war. Sick and tired. And their voice was loud and clear yesterday.

It's been an inexcusable 44 years since a Democrat running for president has received even just 51% of the vote. That's because most Americans haven't really liked the Democrats. They see them as rarely having the guts to get the job done or stand up for the working people they say they support. Well, here's their chance. It has been handed to them, via the voting public, in the form of a man who is not a party hack, not a set-for-life Beltway bureaucrat. Will he now become one of them, or will he force them to be more like him? We pray for the latter.

But today we celebrate this triumph of decency over personal attack, of peace over war, of intelligence over a belief that Adam and Eve rode around on dinosaurs just 6,000 years ago. What will it be like to have a smart president? Science, banished for eight years, will return. Imagine supporting our country's greatest minds as they seek to cure illness, discover new forms of energy, and work to save the planet. I know, pinch me.

We may, just possibly, also see a time of refreshing openness, enlightenment and creativity. The arts and the artists will not be seen as the enemy. Perhaps art will be explored in order to discover the greater truths. When FDR was ushered in with his landslide in 1932, what followed was Frank Capra and Preston Sturgis, Woody Guthrie and John Steinbeck, Dorothea Lange and Orson Welles. All week long I have been inundated with media asking me, "gee, Mike, what will you do now that Bush is gone?" Are they kidding? What will it be like to work and create in an environment that nurtures and supports film and the arts, science and invention, and the freedom to be whatever you want to be? Watch a thousand flowers bloom! We've entered a new era, and if I could sum up our collective first thought of this new era, it is this: Anything Is Possible.

An African American has been elected President of the United States! Anything is possible! We can wrestle our economy out of the hands of the reckless rich and return it to the people. Anything is possible! Every citizen can be guaranteed health care. Anything is possible! We can stop melting the polar ice caps. Anything is possible! Those who have committed war crimes will be brought to justice. Anything is possible.


We really don't have much time. There is big work to do. But this is the week for all of us to revel in this great moment. Be humble about it. Do not treat the Republicans in your life the way they have treated you the past eight years. Show them the grace and goodness that Barack Obama exuded throughout the campaign. Though called every name in the book, he refused to lower himself to the gutter and sling the mud back. Can we follow his example? I know, it will be hard.
I want to thank everyone who gave of their time and resources to make this victory happen. It's been a long road, and huge damage has been done to this great country, not to mention to many of you who have lost your jobs, gone bankrupt from medical bills, or suffered through a loved one being shipped off to Iraq. We will now work to repair this damage, and it won't be easy.
But what a way to start! Barack Hussein Obama, the 44th President of the United States. Wow.

Seriously, wow.
Yours,
Michael Moore

PRAISE GOD! - Tomaca

Party With the Ancestors

Someone asked me today what party was I going to if Barack Obama wins the presidency. I told him it would be a party with the ancestors. Candles, incense and prayers to all of those who have come before all of us who paid with blood, sweat and tears. The unimaginable pain of those millions upon millions of people that built all of the Americas and made this world what it is today.

I pray Barack Hussein Obama is elected as our new president. It is well beyond time for a change!

My office joint

Mothers and Their Daughters

Sometimes there can be a mere 15, 16 or 20 years between their ages. But, if things work out right, they become best friends in time - always there for each other.



It starts off before the womb with a spiritual commitment to come here to learn from each other. Mom cares for that baby girl and helps her to grow. At some point the tables turn and the younger becomes the older, caring, carrying, loving and supporting. That's the way it's supposed to be.


Walking slowly because the new younger one can't walk that fast. She needs her cane now and has to guage her steps, much like the new older one did when she was young. Going from point to point - holding onto the couch, then steps to the chair, crawling because sometimes there wasn't anything tall enough to grab on to in order to steady this new thing called walking.


Yes, the tables turn sometimes. And, if we are lucky, we will have the opportunity to enjoy returning the care and the love given to us as infants and toddlers, teenagers, young adults and far beyond. Because again, if we are lucky, our turn comes and our telephone rings because someone needs to know that we're feeling okay today.

If we're lucky, they've got the time to sit and chat because you want to share some of the stories from your 90 years. You want to talk about how much things have changed and how much better they were when you were young. That special dress that your father bought for you from that fancy store cost $7.00, but it may as well have been $1 Million. And you felt like $1 million in it. It fit you like a glove and you were Miss It for that day. Someone has to hear those stories. Someone has to know who you are and what you've done because after all you had a life before you became a mother - and during and after. You want someone to laugh with, someone to know that you love them and they love you.

You want to know that you did a good job because you sacrificed 20+ plus years of your own life for this person. But, you don't care about the sacrifice - in fact you don't even consider it to be a "sacrifice." It was your life and you felt blessed to have this person in it to share it with. You did your best to tell them of the world and you are so grateful to know that person is living their life with joy and happiness.

It warms your heart when they call and say "thank you for everything that you've done for me." They look back and understand why the room should be clean, why things should be organized, why it was important to keep any commitments they made. They see clearly how those dance classes or that one little trip to the museum enhanced their life. What they thought was nagging was really love - they realize that now. They were being given lessons to help them prepare for their own independent lives.

They realize that you couldn't afford to bring them on vacations to exotic far away places that their friends would return to school with every fall talking about. It's okay because you picked up a book at the five and dime because you thought they'd like to read it. Occasionally, there was a new doll that you could make all kinds of new clothes for from scraps and old clothes.

The sandwiches you made were special. And no one in the world can cook food like you do. There was something about the way you made it. You remember the taste of pure love in everything even if occasionally it was a big pot of beans because that's all there could be.

It's their turn to carry you if need be. It's their honor to do for you what you did for them. They give you a mother's love.

Sometimes

Sometimes, yes, I do question what I am doing, what I've done, where I've been and where I'm going. Sometimes it's hard to stay on the road that you've chosen. You think you have everything you need and you forge ahead confidently not aware of the pitfalls and the lessons that lay ahead. You take your beatings and hopefully you learn your lessons and you continue stronger and more resilient - hopefully. But, sometimes you are the overly-weary road traveler and you just keep putting one foot in front of the other and struggle to find the meaning in what you do. Then you get some rest, take a deep breath, put a prayer in your heart and continue on knowing what you know. That's something that no one can take from you -- what you know, what God put in your heart. Your visions, your dreams are yours. Not to be shared necessarily, but to be known by you and only you - and God.

So, it's not easy; sometimes it does get hard, but you just have to go for what you know.

My Mentor

Just a note to acknowledge my friend who has worked with me in music for the past two plus years.

He has helped me to open up my eyes which led to the opening of my mind and my senses. I see a broader spectrum of the world thanks to him.

He always forces me to think about the root of my actions. Why I did something a certain way, what emotions or baggage were behind it thus helping me to continue to grow beyond who and what I am.

Music is a prayer. This is his mantra. I understand it with my mind, but have yet to been able to incorporate the meaning of this into my life. But, it will come.

Being "still" is something that very few people do. Of course, he does. It is constantly, constantly reinforced to me. To still yourself means to meditate and to become an observer of yourself and life in general. It is to connect directly with the All That Is that is part of us.

I immensely enjoy moments of quiet and seclusion on the rare occasions that I have them. I've yet to still my mind in those moments. Things around me a quiet and still, but my mind is always as busy as ever -- thinking, planning, calculating, working, talking... I will get there though.

I just wanted to acknowlege him and thank him for having the patience of Job to deal with a music kindergardner like myself. Music is a meal; my voice is part of that meal. There is no separation of the two.

Yeah, it's deep and there's much more to the lessons and the learning. So, to the boss - thank you, I love you, respect you and cherish the lessons you've taught me. I also thank you for not giving up on me and teaching me to respect the gift and bringing my life to a new level.

Tomaca's Opera

Yes, I am writing an opera. Don't know how long it will be, what it will sound like or what the theme is. Just know that it will be. The voice sings in my heart all the time, every day, every night. It is joined with a chorus of others in my head and sings to me.

Once I was the recipient of the most beautiful choral operatic performance that I ever heard in my life. It was during a long ride to a gig. It was dark, but the stars were brightly lit in the sky and I had a lot of road ahead of me. It just started out of nowhere. It was as if a chorus of angels was riding just above me and singing the most beautiful music. I don't remember what the words were. I don't remember how it was structured or even the voices that sang. But, I do remember how it felt and it felt amazing.

I believe in angels. I hear their voices sing and echo far more beautifully than mine. I embrace them and their joy. Pull the feeling into my life and hold onto much like a child would hug and squeeze a teddy bear as if they can squeeze the love out of it directly into their own bodies.

So this opera will be a reflection of who I am and the Creator's gift to me. The voice will resound and tell a story of some sort and look for lives to touch as it touches my own. And it doesn't matter if people remember the words or not. It doesn't matter if anyone remembers the structure or even that it is my voice that sang. All it matters is that they can feel the Creator's presence and His love in it and pull that feeling into their own heart and their own life for themselves.

Contemplating

Every day I come to the office and look at a specific a group of trees. I pay attention to the changes in them and watch them show me the seasons as they change. Now most of the leaves have turned a golden yellow and have started falling off. There are empty places where you can see the bareness of some of the branches. Winter is ahead.

It would be cool to take a picture of them every single day from the exact same spot so these changes can be played back like a movie. Much like we do with our past, we play it back like a movie. I watch flashes of mine like old reruns. There are some of these movies that I enjoy and others that I do not. I find that I focus more on the past memories that are not so favorable and it keeps me in this sadness - like the bare branches on the trees. These memories are not fruitful. I must allow myself to forgive my past and to look forward to each day with the eagerness and lightheartedness of a child who knows nothing other than that they are.

The Attack of the Squirrels

The last two weeks have brought dozens of squirrels to me. The first week, they would run across the street in front of my van. They were never in danger of being hit or run over, the distance was always enough. But, they kept dashing across the street in front of me every day and different times during the day.

This week, they've been waving to me from the side of the road. I always just happen to see them. And, yes, this is an actual phenomenon; I'm not making this up and it's real.

My job at this point is to figure out, understand and embrace the message that these little creatures are giving me. Squirrels to me are seemingly busy, mindless creatures. But, then there was the one time I saw a mother and father skittering about and looking down sadly at their baby who fell out of the nest and was killed when it landed. So I believe they can and do love.

Squirrels also signify determination and persistence. So, they are busy, determined and persistent. And yeah, that's me.

And the fact that they're no longer running in front of me, but now they are sitting on the sidelines waving... What does that mean?

I've gotten so far away from the music - so far away from actual singing that it has been painful. Music heals; sound is a vibration. My voice is healing to me and soothing and beautiful. I am not coming from a standpoint of vanity at all - but more reflecting on the gift that God gave to ME. This is what it does for me.

All of my work the last couple of years has centered around the internet, building websites, updating websites, talking to people, interviewing people, posting interviews... I enjoy this immensely, but it is not the primary joy for me. Singing is and I have to fight my way back to it. Maybe that's why the squirrels were slowing me down - telling me to stop, slow down, get across the street and refocus myself, my being and my energy.

There's only so much time in the day though. How do I find the time to do it all?

I have been very frustrated and lethargic the last couple of years. Felt like I hit a brick wall and I'm stuck there. I've learned a lot and grown a lot, but I haven't shared it with my voice.

A psychic person once told me that without singing, other areas of my life would be eaten away. It's been two years since I've put singing on the back burner of my activities and it has taken it's toll. I don't speak on it much, but know what it is.

So, all of that to say - thank you universe for reminding me of what should be at the forefront of my life leading me and guiding me. I am going to put singing back in its proper place. I'm going to go back to being the way I was. I would bounce in and out of venues and watch my friends perform, gathering energy and momentum. That's one of the things that I've stopped doing and I definitely feel it. I am drained, tired - exhausted actually - and have lost my spark. I'm going to get it back. I'm going to be me again.

Calling All the Angels

I reviewed a story that I had posted on http://pagesfrompeopleslives.com/ about a little boy named Isaiah. Isaiah lives in an orphanage in Haiti. He's got a family ready, willing and working toward adopting him, but they face many struggles to complete the process, mostly financial.

My friend Kelly Buchanan who is on a long journey back to some degree of normalcy after suffering from brain damage. She needs lots of physical therapy and assistance with daily living. Again it's the money thing.

My friend Jim Windtalker who gave up a lucrative career in music to roll up his sleeves and start a wolf preservation..

The list goes on and on. My heart is the biggest part of me. I feel the pain and torture of many of us. There is no separation between anyone else and yourself.

I feel so helpless sometimes --- okay - often. It is with great sadness that I bow my head and walk away from a situation that I can't do anything about. I focus on what I can do. I can blog; I can post stories and interviews on the internet and it satisfies me just to a point. To be able to put my hands in the dirt and help build the wolf shelters, to be a part of the armed guard that protects the orphanage in Haiti, to be there for my friend Kelly on a daily basis to make sure that she is taking her medication because often she forgets whether she's taken it or not... My God.

All I can do is try to put it into song. My internal tears, my external joy, my dreams, my wishes, my prayers for all of us. I am calling all the angels. I am calling all of us to serve. Will you answer?

Kelly Buchanan

This young lady is my friend. She's an independent artist that I've had the privilge of watching grow the last eight years. The first time I saw her perform, it was just her and her guitar. She was traveling with some other young musicians from Boston. They came to Connecticut to perform. On stage she was relaxed, smiling and joking as she introduced each song as "something I'm working on." I remember she had on sneakers, jeans and a t-shirt on to match her casual attitude. None of the songs were completed works, but that didn't matter to her. Nor did it matter to me. She did a nice job and I liked her music.

Kelly sang this one song she wrote called "Breathe You In." It was beautiful. I got on her email list and told her to let me know when the cd was done because I wanted to buy it.

She would send emails to let people know what she was doing and of her progress. It took 2 years, but the cd was finally done. I bought it and was pleased with the work and with the song that she wrote that I loved so much. This was about six years ago.

Her emails told of her travels, her self-created tour of the eastern coast of the US where she talked about how her car would break down in the middle of nowhere, she hit a deer on the road and it smashed her windshield, she was starving because she made very little money on the road, etc. But, it was an adventure for her, she was having fun, making friends and singing, and I appreciated being with her via her bi-weekly and monthly email reports. I cheered her on at every opportunity.

She released four cds and was working on the 5th one which was about healing. During this process her vocals improved, her musicianship improved and she grew up.

Realizing today that I hadn't gotten an email from my singing friend in quite sometime, I went to her website and was so saddened to hear that she suffered traumatic brain injury during an accident in March of this year. Ascap is hosting a fundraiser for her at The Knitting Factory in September. I will be there to again be her cheerleader and to support this young lady who was a catalyst for me in my own life.

Kelly Buchanan, thank you for being you and inspiring me. I love you and cheer for you.

A Dog's Purpose

One of many viral emails:

A Dog's Purpose (from a 6-year-old).

Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle. I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home. As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.

The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away. The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, 'I know why.'

Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation.

He said, 'People are born so that they can learn how to live a good Life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?' The Six-year-old continued, 'Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.'

Live simply.

Love generously.

Care deeply.

Speak kindly.

Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:

- When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.

- Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joy-ride.

- Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.

- Take naps.

- Stretch before rising.

- Run, romp, and play daily.

- Thrive on attention and let people touch you.

- Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.

- On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.

- On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.

- When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.

- Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.

- Be loyal.

- Never pretend to be something you're not.

- If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.

- When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.

ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY!

Traveling

I enjoy traveling. It gives a view of another side of life. Colorful cultures and creative people.

Wherever I go, I make sure that I venture out of the tourist areas so I can see how the real people of that region live. The worldwide poverty is astounding. We have allowed people to go into all countries and rape and destroy them. The elite take posts in the most beautiful areas and force everyone else into areas of desolation. Natural environments are destroyed as are the people's culture. Everything is catered toward money and the creation and accumulation of money. We've got to change. We've got to stand for something and make a difference.

Indifference and fear are mind killers. Lack of action supports what is. There is no separation between us and the next person. If we allow things to happen in one place, then it happens in every place. I am determined to continue to try to make a difference with my life however possible.