Once upon a time there was a little girl named Patty. Being very young she was happy and playful and naturally carefree. She was born to a large family with four older siblings and two parents who were very creative and artistic; they were people who enjoyed life. She grew up surrounded by hundreds of acres of woods. There was always a swimming pool in the yard, overgrown apple trees in the field, a full sized barn, sheds and a garage. They had rabbits, chickens and two pigs along with the three dogs and numerous cats. There was a bigger farm a quarter mile from her house half way down the hill. Many times Patty would wake to a lot of excitement and commotion. “The neighbor’s cow is outside my window again!”

Patty’s parents were from a long line of city slickers. Very hard workers, happy, laughing, party type people where evening cocktail hours and comfortable wealth were the norm. Her grandparents were mortified that Mom and Dad had exceeded the number of children that was appropriate for their status. That was the final straw. So, with four children in tow they moved 400 miles away to the country to flee from their controlling families. In the 1950s that was a very big deal. Beyond the logistics of such an action they were brand new to this farming game. Dad was a pianist and whole hearted musician at his core. Mom, well, she was brilliant with an attitude far ahead of her time. Patty was the first born after that.

Being child number five in the pecking order held many advantages for Patty. Her parents were now experienced and more relaxed where child rearing was concerned. She learned a healthy practice of outward shows of affection. Kisses and hugs were normal when leaving the house and before going to bed. Words of adoration were often used and rarely a cuss word was heard. Sibling rivalry was quickly reconciled.

She adored her father. He was often away from home with work. Every day when his car would pull into the driveway Patty would jump behind the sofa so Dad could find her when he came in. “Where’s Patty? Over here? Over there?” Then, she would gleefully jump out in celebration. She had fooled him once again. She learned patience while waiting for him to change his cloths and sit down on his easy chair. In hopes of sitting on his lap while he had his cigarette she would often be denied this luxury because he changed into his suit and tie. He had a very short time before he had to leave again. He played church organ, had choir rehearsal, gave piano lessons and on weekends had frequent ‘double-headers’ playing weddings with Louie’s band all while holding down a full time day job at the mouse house.

One day, Mom and Dad came home and four and a half year old Patty hid herself behind the couch only this time they did not look for her. As they entered the room they called for her to come out from there almost like they knew she was there all along. When Patty did disappointedly emerge from her hiding place she saw her parents standing there with their coats still on. They were holding a baby. This was the beginning of the end for a lot of things that Patty treasured in her young life. Mom had to go to work. Patty and the baby had to go to a sitter and playing in the minstrel shows* was now a thing of the past.

Life continued on and for her sixth birthday Patty was gifted a two wheeled bicycle. It was blue just like her sisters’ bikes. Her brother’s bike was brown and was a boy’s bike. That summer Dad was on vacation and she helped him install a flagpole in the yard and he helped her learn how to ride the bike. Starting at the top of the small grassy hill by the new flag she mounted the bike with Dad’s steady hand holding the balance. Then, with a gentle push she would roll down the knoll only to plop to the ground over and over again. It took days for her to balance on her own. She finally got it but only after Dad said, “if you can’t learn to ride this bike I’m going to take it back to the store.” It was in that instant that she was on her way. Spending those few hours together unfettered was in itself – the gift.

It is an exhilarating time to be alive!

It’s November 2014 and I am thrilled to be back in the field experiencing life with a free flowing lilt. The word appreciation almost pales in the richness of its visceral affects. I’ve met new and talented people and have seen, heard, smelled, tasted, touched and energetically sensed unique and novel existences. From making new friends and watching the series finale of Boardwalk Empire to becoming ‘tuned in, tapped in, turned on’ at an Abraham-Hicks workshop and sitting in the audience of His Holiness the Dalai Lama – in the breathtakingly beautiful Wang Theatre in Boston – on the same day of the passing of its beloved Mayor Menino – I know that I have only scratched the surface. With another excursion at hand my brain will continue to process and my heart to open and download the graciousness of happiness that is only natural. You will be the first to know how it all translates into written word. It is an exhilarating time to be alive!

Pumpkin Riot (original post –  2014Oct19)

I lingered on the Main Street while the festival clean-up commenced. There were groups of people everywhere. The beer and cologne stench evidenced the general mindset. Students wanted to party and they wanted to get laid. The cops, with their general discontented mindset, had the gear and the training. They are ready to obliterate terrorists. Put the two mindsets together and what do you get? Chaos!

The media labeled it ‘riot’ obviously having no clue what a real riot is. I’ve had bonfires in my yard bigger than the one set on the street. That matters not though. People will believe what they are fed and that’s why our society is living in paralyzing fear. I witnessed a man in his latter 30s red faced screaming at a student for smashing a pumpkin on the street in front of him. He was holding a 3 year old. On my walk home, in the dark, students excused themselves for rushing past me on the sidewalk. It was obvious that if you were a young person on or near the campus you were suspect.

Heavy partying is quite the norm come pumpkin fest time. The biggest difference this time was highly trained and fortified law enforcement. It was almost like they were all dressed up (in their riot gear) with no place to go. A little field training must have seemed in order. The festival itself was quite pleasant especially when you could ignore the police snipers on the rooftops and high visibility of its ground forces.

After the dust had settled a bit from the great riots of the Keene Pumpkin Festival 2014 I decided to ask the students about their take; the ones who were awake and picking up beer cans the next morning. Several apologized to me for the melee obviously embarrassed and obviously not part of the initial rabble rousing. Students from all over the region were among the rowdiest of them all. “There are always big parties during the pumpkin fest. Last night, this one party down the street got broken up. Most of the kids were under 21. They were told to leave. The only place they could go was the street. Next thing you know there are cops in riot gear shooting at people.” That’s when it really began to break loose. In comes the television media grasping for words and pictures from social media which, as we know, includes everybody. Once that happens and attention becomes laser focused things really begin to hit the fan.

A Boston station reported that one of its crew felt tear gas in her eyes. Well, where did that tear gas come from, the students? Social media fear mongers implored residents to go into their homes, lock the doors and pull the shades. I moved to town just a few months ago. One of the first things I heard from a neighbor was how awful the students are during the pumpkin celebration. Guess what, we get what we expect. When police suit up in riot gear what are they expecting?

Baby boomers who are so afraid of our young people and quivering with fear in their cloistered little warehouses are overwhelmed at how much smarter the gen-Y/millennial crowd is. Being of age in the 1960s and 70s you would think they could understand. Boomers were no angels when they brought in flower power and real riots. Back then campuses demonstrated for causes. Riots happened when the cops started shooting. What we saw near the Keene State campus during the pumpkin fest was not even close – until…

By 8am the bulk of the aftermath is restricted to apx 50 feet of a single street.

Blaaagh-ing/Blogging – how did that word come about? New language, new technology, new time, it’s always changing. We are fluid in every sense of the word; energetically, physically, Earth, the Universe, all in flux all the time. The ocean waves demonstrate the natural ebb and flow. Trees and grasses stretch in grace and ease bending to the breezes in pure surrender to the energetic swirls of Earth. Always responding to our every whim, our world spins in perfect pitch.

It is an incredibly new phenomenon, this blogging thing, especially to an Elder of Excellence like myself. Though, I am but a young wisp trailing the big baby boom, I love that I can learn this stuff. I ask myself, ‘what do I see in the blog-o-sphere?’ – I see/hear/think/feel a lot of content content content and blog blog blog. How to make your way to big name blogging success OR the ride up the blah blah blaaagh-ing ladder. Maybe it’s my age but I aspire to a different vibe. I’m attracted to other things. I like to feel my way along. So, let me think feel on that idea for a minute…  I’m happy to inform you, I’m not that.

I love the whole idea of blogging. Blogging is Influence. Teachers are everywhere. Like the caliber of my favorite people/bloggers, I can only aspire to their greatness. I love the messages that are emerging into our Energy fields. With the turning of the season we are giving more face time to the fields of Harvest. That said, it is so EASY to TUNE IN now. Take advantage of it. Tune In. It’s only natural. And, may the Blaaagh-ing continue.

I had experienced a most bizarre happening. So strong was the force that I had to rid myself of my brand new hiking shoes. They were on my feet as I went sideways from zero to forty five in a few short seconds. The shoes absorbed much contrasting energy and continued to vibrate in subsequent days. Beyond wearable, they suffered molecular whiplash, not unlike their inhabitant. The nail on the right half of my second toe began to grow in layer under layer. That little piggy should have stayed home.

The body’s innate ability to heal is a remarkable process to watch. Keeping the faith, every day I lived by my mantra ‘improvement is steady’. Occasionally, fleeting doubt would arise though fret I would not. I did wonder at times if it would ever grow properly again. I would return to ‘improvement is steady’. I noticed today that the nail is back to normal. Odd as it may sound, my second toe has brought me great joy. I’m so excited! I love my second toe!

Being of the mind to cultivate the mind where we make up the mind to pay attention to the mind, feel the now thought the mind is churning. The mind is consciously obeying the quality of nourishment that the mind is fed, thought is its sustenance; the mind computes thought data, the mind is happy processing its said sixty to eighty thousand thoughts per day. The mind says ‘yes’ to everything.

The spoon holds the sustenance delivering life force to the body so as to emotion is the gauge to the quality of the mind’s sustenance. Communing in this very moment, reading this, decide to be happy. You’re here anyway.

My three beautiful children were born within a five year period during the 1980s. It was just a short decade prior when the Equal Rights Amendment was passed. During the 90s, ERA really took hold and was tested in the macro. There was a social expectation that unless you were religiously motivated to stay home with your kids you were to develop a career outside the home.

I was living in Oklahoma where the spanking with a paddle or paddling of children was readily accepted and supported in the public school systems. Daycare was a relatively new concept. I had no intention of handing over my children to a scenario like that, offering them up for potential physical abuse. I loved my full-time 24/7 job of cultivating three of the most brilliant human beings walking Earth. Home-schooling groups were very popular and well organized.  Although short lived, it was quite conducive to our young family travel adventures. It was experiential learning at its finest.

People are different in the Southwest. It took some time for me to understand that heels were really hills and INsurance was actually insurance – my favorite expressions: if you were sick you were feeling ‘puny’ and if a ‘twister’ was in the vicinity you went into your ‘fraidy hole’ (aka storm shelter). Not only do they all have accents there but they are vigilant in their faith and will interrogate your religious beliefs before they allow their children to play with yours. I was in the buckle of the Bible belt, downtown tornado alley.

I’m a New Englander but I speak modified Pennsylvania. I do not subscribe to any particular religion. I was out of my element for sure. Slipping under the scrutiny fence I was fortunate enough to have been in that culture. No one there questioned my motives for staying home with my kids. It was a totally different story upon returning home several years later.

It’s tough to put ‘motherhood’ on a resume and expect to be hired for a professional position. Sure, there is plenty of work in the care-taking field but unless you are a close friend or family member that needs my help, I don’t do poop. As my family grew I worked party plans and temp jobs. I’ve worked in over twenty organizations both in the corporate world and academia but my kids always came first. In the 80s, 90s and even the early 2000s, that was not cool.

People and our environment are always reflecting back to us where we’re at in our own focus of thought. For years I allowed and felt condescension and the demeaning of my station. I was trained into the thinking that my information was just too out there. Hanging on to that idea turned into a belief and that belief inhibited my ability to freely express myself and enjoy my businesses. And, most importantly, it never felt good. Contrary to my natural state I became introverted and worked hard to fly under the proverbial radar.

Everything always works out for me and now I know better. Becoming reacquainted with meditation, dawn began to break over marble head. Some call it ‘clarity’. And then to infuse the body with Prana/life force/breath through Yoga – Divine. Here we are thirty years later and the idea of staying home with one’s children is being embraced, accepted and encouraged. Those who do choose to work are in a much better position to do so. Culturally, we’ve come a long way. No more burning at the stake. My beliefs have shifted too and I’m realizing that people really do want to hear about what I have to offer.  How refreshing! My business is beginning to thrive and best of all, I’m free! I am profoundly grateful for all of it. I Am, the Closet Academic.