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	<title>Jean Marie Murphy</title>
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	<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com</link>
	<description>Artist, Poet, Designer, Yoga Consultant ...</description>
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		<title>IT’s TIME</title>
		<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=207</link>
		<comments>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=207#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 17 Nov 2011 19:17:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jm2</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[In the non-profit I created we had no clocks on display.  I tried to create a place of timelessness.  When I taught my yoga classes, right next to me, I had a very small clock only I could see.
Most of the people we were working with were losing the battle against time; they were marching [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><p>In the non-profit I created we had no clocks on display.  I tried to create a place of timelessness.  When I taught my yoga classes, right next to me, I had a very small clock only I could see.</p>
<p>Most of the people we were working with were losing the battle against time; they were marching surely towards their death.  It might sound crazy or like some new-aged hair brained idea but it actually had an amazing impact.  It was often one of the things that people spoke to on their way out the door.  I mean way out the door, as in, saying goodbye because they knew they wouldn&#8217;t be coming back again.  Death, for them, was just a short TIME away.</p>
<p>As some of you know, I have an issue with time.  How things must be done, the order you could say.  It&#8217;s probably a reaction to growing up in a family that had to eat dinner <em>every</em> night at 6:00 PM.  It&#8217;s 9:00 and I have not yet eaten dinner; I will shortly.  I was sending a post to acknowledge the receipt of another manuscript I have been asked to read, when I was inspired to put pen to paper myself.  My stomach can wait. </p>
<p>Whatever has been going on for me energetically, I am learning that time, or existence in its entirety, is circular.  I keep coming around the bend and visiting things again and again and each time with more nuance, and availability of my consciousness.  I look around and no one or nothing looks the same.  I am taking everything in differently; colors, shapes, the textures of things.  I think (always a dangerous thing for me) I saw the essence of my plant today, not just its leaves and flowers, but its actual essence.  I could almost hear it say &#8220;Please see me, all of me, not just the surface that others typically see&#8221;. </p>
<p>No, I have not resorted to mind altering drugs. Yes, though, I am sipping a bit of tequila right now.  Yoga has a way of opening a larger aperture for which life to move through, and towards us. </p>
<p>I know you&#8217;re probably saying <em>&#8220;She always brings it back to yoga&#8221;</em> and maybe I do but it’s such vast territory in which to discover the world, within and without.  It&#8217;s all about becoming.  It’s there in the circle, the spiral, the finally coming around to yourself and having the guts to tell the truth about who you are. </p>
<p>I am finally at a place where I am less concerned about people pleasing, a habitual pattern of mine, and more comfortable being the introvert that I am.  A new friend, who spent most of his childhood in his room making model airplanes, has somehow invoked this resurgence of introvert in me.  Sitting next to each other at boisterous dinner parties, the designers and architects he works with posturing for the spotlight, listening to one grand design after another, and in our quietness feel more connected to each other, than the world wind around us.</p>
<p>I&#8217;ve indulged being a homebody for the past 10 months or so, really building a home for myself, infusing it with my sense of place and style and energy.  I guess hearing about all those renderings had an effect on me.  Yet, I don&#8217;t feel like a boring or routine laden domesticate, just someone who likes home.  I just made some Muhammara and a scrumptious Moroccan Tagine with dates, spices the color of sunsets, orzo, Harissa and Dersa.  My neighbors across the walk way came over with empty bowls proclaiming a desire to do my laundry and later, came back enacting the whole Oliver scene, much to my delight.</p>
<p>Maybe it’s all an externalization of the archetypal journey of the hero returning for Self, not other.  That process of releasing our false selves in favor of being our truer natures. The wholeness of who we are; the person we often hide from others, for fear of rejection, judgment, or ridicule.    I think it’s time to not be a hero for others, but to be a hero for our SELF.  For whatever reason this energy has spiraled around again for me, I am grateful for its time. </p>
<p style="padding-left: 60px;">I found this old writing above this morning from 2009 and thought “Isn’t that, in part, what Occupy Wall Street is all about?  Finding the hero/heroine within and standing up for Self, and in doing so, we end up standing up for each other?”</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px"><strong>The</strong><strong> A</strong><strong>pple</strong><strong> B</strong><strong>ack</strong><strong> O</strong><strong>n</strong><strong> T</strong><strong>he</strong><strong> T</strong><strong>ree</strong></p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">If evolution is about changing and growing,</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">then why expel for reaching for nourishment?</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">Did not the nourishment of that apple help them grow?</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">Did not the plucking cause that tree to change?</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">Instead, our forefathers tell a story of shame,</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">masking our naked bodies,</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">of expulsion from His garden.</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">False gods will always knock us off our paths.</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">True gods will always bring us home to nuzzle in the bosom,</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">knowing “this, is where I can grow”. </p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">God intended a different Eden for us, </p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">One where we can truly be ourselves,</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">without judgment.</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">I am putting the apple back on that tree.</p>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px">The snake and I are going to find our true homes.</p>
<h5 style="padding-left: 210px;">© Jean Marie Murphy 2008</h5>
<p style="PADDING-LEFT: 60px"> </p>
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		<title>Related.</title>
		<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=170</link>
		<comments>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=170#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 11 Nov 2011 20:58:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jm2</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Archives]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=170</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[
Until you say it, some people don’t notice how deeply their inner landscape and outer landscape reflect one another; how you feel on the inside often shows up in the way you structure your outer world.  It shows up in the clothes you wear, the colors you choose and how your clothes do, or don’t, [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><div id="post-8">
<div>Until you say it, some people don’t notice how deeply their inner landscape and outer landscape reflect one another; how you feel on the inside often shows up in the way you structure your outer world.  It shows up in the clothes you wear, the colors you choose and how your clothes do, or don’t, fit your body type.  It shows up in the furniture you choose for your home or office, and the colors or shapes of that furniture.</div>
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<p>Do you choose clothing that fits your body type well, in a style and color that uplifts your spirits?  Do you just fill your home or office with furniture defined by the trend of the time, or do you select special pieces and collectables, then arrange them in a manner that is artful, beautiful, and inspires the creative process?</p>
<p>Architects have always known that their building designs evoke a sensation, a feeling tone, a time and context.  Their design and materials articulate a message behind and within the structure, within every angle, texture and color selected.  My client Matt always says “shape matters”.</p>
<p>Artists too, in the abstract expressive camp, know that shapes and colors positioned next to each other, or away from one another, evokes an influence that inspires meaning. Place this object or color next to that and I invite someone to drop more deeply into my painting.  Place that object next to this and the viewer is inspired to move on, or away.  Hotels are notorious for selecting busy patterns in their carpets to keep guests in motion.  Health Spa choose soothing and calming influences- music, colors, textures, and fragrances- to inspire us to slow down, move inward, disconnect from the outside world.  Gardeners arrange colored and textured plants that inspire the eye, invite interaction with birds and butterflies, and set a tone for enjoyment.  As my client Chris newly discovered, a garden can be a place to end your day:  &#8221;I want to spend time in my back yard, sitting on my deck, just looking at my raised bed vegetable garden.  Before my backyard was a burden that I spent time  cleaning up.  Now it&#8217;s a new canvas that offer me peace of mind as I prune, weed or sip a glass of wine while enjoying the setting sun.&#8221;</p>
<p>This is all also true of our interior space; our sacred interior.  How it is structured, either with our conditioned past or the creative process, determines how we show up in the world.  Our inner and outer spaces either allow life to flow through us as a natural expression of our essence or they impede that expression.   How we engage our sacred interior, how we grow our interior, reflects in how we experience the external world and what we choose to engage with.  There is often a whole being inside us, our Being-in-Potential, which lives in our interior exclusively yet once evoked, begins to actively direct us towards our Life’s Work. </p>
<p>Working with our inner structure through a simple ancient yet time honored relaxation process called Yoga Nidra, we can begin the process of de-cluttering our internal space so we can connect with our Being-in-potential.  Illuminating family and educational conditioning, we can begin to choose what influences we want to maintain and which one’s we’re ready to let go off. </p>
<p>As we continue to establish a strong and resilient rapport with our sacred interior, we could begin to notice that there are things in our lives that we&#8217;ve out grown.  We can outgrow beliefs, behaviors, hobbies, pastimes, possessions, relationships, even foods and recreational activities.  We even outgrow family heirlooms.  Our stuff is one of the biggest factors that interferes with the outer manifestation of our internal growth.  Our stuff, and external environments, can hold us to a past self that really no longer exists except in habit. </p>
<p>Using Yoga Nidra we can de-clutter and remove the object de’ resistance to the very growth you have been waiting for.  I promise it’s already there; you are not just yet, perceiving it.</p>
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		<title>Compel Your Own Meaning</title>
		<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=8</link>
		<comments>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=8#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 11 Nov 2011 20:36:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>jm2</dc:creator>
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		<description><![CDATA[I am a writer who utilizes her intuitive skills to play with words, the edges of their meaning not just their root (core).  I endeavor to lay down a new way of expressing how it is I feel or see something; in essence how I am touched by it.  The depth of that contact so [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><p>I am a writer who utilizes her intuitive skills to play with words, the edges of their meaning not just their root (core).  I endeavor to lay down a new way of expressing how it is I feel or see something; in essence how I am touched by it.  The depth of that contact so deeply and profoundly changes me, as meaning and context presents themselves, that I bare witness to and simultaneously mid-wife a new me.</p>
<p>As a painter, I approach the paint, paper, brush and my arising creative inspiration in a similar manner. The painting, the end result of that confluence, and the coalescence of my presence, reveals a moment that can be interpreted in as many ways as there are hearts and brains.  I create an abstract which touches in all the ways you allow it to touch you.  Perception is a personal as your finger print.</p>
<p>The abstract of expressiveness allows each viewer an opportunity to tell how they are touched by the movement and stillness of a piece.   My paintings are vortexes of energy, and meaning, and transportation.   Spending  time with one, returning to it again and again, will bring you more deeply into your canvass, through the known sometimes stuffed stuff, to virgin territory of the unknown ; the mystery if you will.</p>
<p>If you find yourself repulsed, unsettled, offended even, stay there for a while; take some time to get to know this place in yourself.  For these places are lens’s that block, filter or corrupt the things you find beautiful as well.  Let my paintings bring to the surface that which separates.  When your lens is so fully obscured to be known as opaque, abstain from further engagement and wipe clean with one clear sweep, and look again.  I promise, you will see something different.  Even if it is just that your relationship to the color red has changed.</p>
<p>In still life or landscape or even portraiture, the contours of the story are established for you.  Yes line, light and shadow, expression, foreground and background, the ever popular negative space, as well as scope, scale and drama can still give way to interpretation but the outline, even the table of contents, have been crafted to direct your inquiry as to meaning.</p>
<p>There are aspects of my paintings that are concrete; like the four edges of the paper, some brush strokes have clear beginnings and clear endings, the juxtaposition of a vibrant hot red and a cooling Caribbean blue.  Yet-even in its concreteness there is an element of mystery.  Some brush strokes travel clear off the page never to return and some return from a whole new position or direction.</p>
<p>The foreground of your initial experience of a piece is influenced by your deep and very personal background, which in turn, uniquely influences how you experience your viewing.  A fair question may be, from where are you viewing?  Are you viewing from the lens of a past or are you in present tense?  Are you seeing from the places where you fell deeply in love or perhaps, out of love with someone?  Do you feel it from your hopes and dreams of your future or from the ashes of a past filled with unrequited desire?</p>
<p>What we know at any one segment of time is representative of only a fragment of the truth, of a moment that has just passed and will never come again.  I choose not to carry the past any more but you may not be ready to lay that load down just yet.  You may need to get more intimately connected to it so when you are ready to lay it down, you do so forever and completely.</p>
<p>Get a cup of tea, or a shot of tequila, spend some time just listening to my paintings.  Hear what they say to your heart, and if you’re brave, listen through your bone marrow.  Notice how they touch your eyes, or really, how you allow your eyes to touched by them. </p>
<p>I’d love to hear of your journey; feel free to drop me an email.</p>
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		<title>A Garden is Never Finished</title>
		<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=109</link>
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		<pubDate>Sat, 08 May 2010 16:57:02 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[I’ve been deeply saddened by what’s happening in the Gulf of Mexico and even thought of driving there just to see it one last time still alive; it, not me.  There is so much undetonated ordinance that we dumped into the gulf from 1946 to 1970 that I am embarrassed to be a human being.  [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><p>I’ve been deeply saddened by what’s happening in the Gulf of Mexico and even thought of driving there just to see it one last time still alive; it, not me.  There is so much undetonated ordinance that we dumped into the gulf from 1946 to 1970 that I am embarrassed to be a human being.  What were we thinking?</p>
<p>I am deep in Indian country and when I am looked upon by our countries first people, I notice how they go right to my hair.  “Maybe it’s the style” I keep telling myself but I am sure the color represents something to them.  Yes I am white.  As white as many of us come…not literally but figuratively.  The blond hair blue eyed thing was given to me and it can lead one to immediate assumptions and sometimes blonde jokes which to me, show the depths of peoples unsettledness with the whole thing.  There has been much talk about the oil spill and how “we” keep killing this sacred planet.</p>
<p>This morning I had to enter a Wal-mart.  I have been enjoying over the years saying “I’ve never been in one and don’t plan on it”.  Yes, I am quietly political and often practice the law of two feet around my consumerism.  I needed more propane for the two meals a day I am cooking while camping.  It’s been windy and I am going through a lot of propane even with good wind blocks and keeping the flame tight and efficient.  The two hardware stores I entered were out.</p>
<p>What I walked right into was a Mother’s Day display.  I stopped so quickly that the person behind me walked into me.  I turned to apologize and met the awake face of an elder Native American.  I looked right at him and couldn’t say a word and then my eyes started to tear.  We stood staring at each other for about 20 seconds and then he said “well those tears aren’t because I bumped into you”.   I laughed fully and said “No, I just realized its Mothers Day tomorrow and I don’t have one anymore”.</p>
<p>As you can probably imagine, I got this full on poetic verse on how she’s still here just in a different form and how she will never fully be gone from my life.  It was beautiful and helped me touch into some of the hidden grief I have still been holding around my Mother’s death.  This is the first Mother’s Day of my life that I won’t be buying her a card or calling her to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day.  I go through this about my Dad, still, every Father’s day and it’s been 7 years since his passing. It gets better every year but those two holidays are some of the few cultural rituals that I really enjoyed and I am finally ready to find a different outlet for that expression.</p>
<p>I looked at my new acquaintance and said fully “Happy Mother’s Day” to which he replied “and Happy Mother’s Day to you”.  We both laughed so loud that the customers in the immediate vicinity all stopped to see what was so funny.   We spoke for about 10 minutes and in the course of that time I learned he had a Hopi Mother and Apache Father.  He described himself as a bit of an outcast due to the mix-bread thing.  Later, I teased him that he was an outcast because that’s what he wanted.  He giggled and agreed.  We spoke of the Gulf of Mexico, the darker side of our ignorance (the undetonated ordinance piece) and how debilitating greed is.  Whether it be for money or an addiction of some kind; television, our computers, the internet, compulsive thinking, excessive drama.  He was a lovely man.  I will be forever grateful that he was the first one I said Happy Mother’s Day too in the absence of my own.</p>
<p>And you all are the second.  May you have a most joyous and fulfilling Mothers Day.  May you continue to offer the nurturance and love to yourself that you need in order to grow in the directions you wish to grow your Self.  As you do so, you offer me and others around you the encouragement to do the same. For I believe, I am a garden and a garden is never finished.</p>
<p>Love to you all,</p>
<p>Jean Marie</p>
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		<title>Carbon Footprint</title>
		<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=104</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 04 May 2010 00:00:27 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[Was it skinny-G (my nickname for Gandhi) who said “travel softly and carry a big stick”?   I’ve been really struck by the concept of one&#8217;s carbon footprint since leaving Marin; the traveling softly piece.  Not just in the consumption of resources or the waste one generates (camping helps to highlight that one big time) but the toxic [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><p>Was it skinny-G (my nickname for Gandhi) who said “travel softly and carry a big stick”?   I’ve been really struck by the concept of one&#8217;s carbon footprint since leaving Marin; the traveling softly piece.  Not just in the consumption of resources or the waste one generates (camping helps to highlight that one big time) but the toxic thinking or stories one tells themselves, the general bad demeanor or energy one emits and the grogginess that one can walk around with.  <em>How can we travel more softly?</em> I keep asking myself, especially since leaving Arcosanti.</p>
<p>We’ve just left Paulo Soleri’s living experiment in a term he coined Arcology .  It combines the discipline of architecture with the science of ecology; he is a poetic architect.  He spent years as an apprentice of Frank Lloyd Wrights before embarking on his own.  The dome, a compelling shape for Soleri, and its circularity is represented in some way in all his buildings.  He erected two massive ones on campus and he’s built an amazing business and reputation from his dome like shaped bells and wind chimes.  I enjoyed a sweet sunset on the roof of one of his domes with 4 residents who live and work there full time.  They were enthused to include me in their frequent climb up a ladder to access the roof top and a 360 degree view of Arcosanti and the surrounding area.  I got the low down, or gossip, about what’s going on there in the back of the house.  Mainly there’s a lot of bickering and incompatible ideas about how things should be done.  Apparently, there are those for whom there is only one way and those for whom there are many options.  I listened quietly and compassionately but offered no opinion or advise.</p>
<p>Soloeri’s perspective on society is that urban sprawl, aided by the onset of the mass endorsement of the automobile, is wasting a lot of time, energy, resources and life force of its inhabitants while causing isolation and a lack of connection with others.  As I listened to the  comments of his residents up on the roof top, I was struck by how few I statements were made, how much energy was spent on reciting an occurrence and how little time was spent on problem solving; they mostly focused on someone else’s behavior and their projection of what they thought was going on.  I imagined that Soleri would not have been happy for his hope was that high density living with easy access to cultural activities and a massive amount of open space would foster harmonious community.</p>
<p>From a design perspective, Franks influence is felt everywhere and mainly comes alive with the light and shadow in the morning hours or the golden hours of sunset.  I have been sitting with the idea that nothing in the desert looks good at noon.  I find the desert comes alive and reveals itself in all its animation after 5:00 and feeds my soul in the same way that the ocean does.   The FLW like shapes and designs seems to dance and sing in the morning and evening hours just like the Arcosanti bells, hung everywhere on campus, sing in the breeze.  Despite the problems in the back of the house, I enjoyed getting to meet the residents, hearing about their lives and what lead them to support Soleri’s vision.</p>
<p>My foot print continues to be one of stillness and quiet contentment.  I have met some soul mates on this journey and today, in Bisbee at a street side café, a small bird landed about 4 inches from my hand resting on the table.  It tilted its head, looking at me as if to say “Can I have some of the blueberry muffin too?”  Laura whooped and looked surprised at me.  Quietly I said “that’s what stillness does for you….life comes to you”.  I placed a good size crumb inches from the bird.  I enjoyed watching it eat and then it flew away.</p>
<p>Here are photos of Arcosanti and Sedona, where we stayed with one of the most beautiful men I’ve ever met and incidentally, he’s best friends with a beautiful man we all know and love: John August.</p>
<p>John, thanks for sharing Michael with us.</p>
<p>I am in Sante Fe now and heading back to Indian Country.  I have been delighted with one up grade after another, meeting the most friendly and lovely people.  A husband and wife treated me to a nights stay in Sante Fe as a 50 birthday gift and the guy sitting next to me at breakfast the next morning bought me a tent as a birthday gift&#8230;.life just loves to show up for the kind and generous of heart.  Kindness is a good religion.</p>
<p>Love to you all&#8230;.you are BIG in my HEART,<br />
Jean Marie</p>
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		<title>Fulcrums &amp; Ecosystems</title>
		<link>http://jeanmariemurphy.com/?p=99</link>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 22 Apr 2010 00:00:18 +0000</pubDate>
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		<description><![CDATA[I’ve had fulcrums and ecosystems on my mind.  From my view, fulcrums are a point of power, or the point of contact with leverage that seems to establish rapport with opposites.  They can lift something that is down and too heavy to lift on one’s own or lower something to the ground that is too [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p></p><p>I’ve had fulcrums and ecosystems on my mind.  From my view, fulcrums are a point of power, or the point of contact with leverage that seems to establish rapport with opposites.  They can lift something that is down and too heavy to lift on one’s own or lower something to the ground that is too heavy that one might like to lower without too much strain.  Ecosystems, when left alone, tend to know how to manage their opposites; life and decay collaborate so the system can endure.  Now in the desert after 2 delightfully blue skied days but cold and damp nights, my body struggles with “what now, dry? I was just too cold and damp.”  Water seems to be the point of commonality-an abundance of it and a lack of it.</p>
<p>Big Sur revealed itself in all its glory.  The beauty of the blue sky was only rivaled by the beauty of the blue ocean-the endless shades of it.  There were times when I felt like I was in Ireland and I kept looking for a hillside pub in which to enjoy a pint of Guinness.  The sunsets had a lot of stamina; like a tender lover for whom time and presence are not linear concepts.   We spoke of sneaking in to Esalon for the baths but landscape after landscape kept beckoning us to the less familiar and tame.  Esalon, I am sure, would not describe itself as tame.</p>
<p>Sleeping was cold for me but the days were full of ocean vistas, otters, flowers and great food.    Laura’s cooking or making of great meals of fish and vegetables’, or salads, the likes of which Green’s would be proud to present at one of their patrons table, have been wonderful.  I have been mostly driving and tending to our sleeping needs.  The tent, we put up together.  We haven’t yet figure out how to pack everything so it’s easily accessible from an open door but that may be a long dance partner.</p>
<p>On our way down to Cambria we met Harry at his road side rock garden of poppies.  He’s been tending to them for years.  He dreams of opening a wine tasting room overlooking the beautiful vista and his garden that stops almost every car that drives by these days.  He left us with a potent realization for himself:  “Life just keeps getting better and better which is really good news for you young ladies”.  I didn’t tell him that in just two months I’ll be turning 50.</p>
<p>I miss my moments of writing or reflecting on life and am glad to have this moment nestled in shade of a big boulder looking across at a landscape, a village really, of humungo boulders in Joshua tree National Park; our home for the next 2 nights.  We arrived in the town of Joshua Tree after a day of driving about 7 hours. I will not subject myself to that harshness again; my ass is still numb after 3 days.  We bypassed L.A. which was, well L.A., intense and traffic bound.  I was happy to skirt by it without too much interaction.</p>
<p>We arrive in the dark to our Couch Surfing host, Lazer and Maggie, who invited us to pitch a tent in their front yard.  We slept warmly, for which my bone marrow was grateful, and rose early with the Sun or Guru as Maggie likes to say.  We spent the day addressing logistics, emails, I called my little brother who panicked when his call went right to voice mail and visited with our hosts.  I cleaned our bedding and hung it on the clothes line because, well, who needs a dryer when living in the desert.  That simple act of clipping the freshly laundered bedding on a clothes line reminded me of my Mom; the soft tears that arose were a welcome relief to my very dry eyes.  My little brother and I, only hours previously, decided to have my Mom’s little brother spread her ashes in the same location of the river where I spread my Fathers.  My Uncle Jimmy, newly back in New England do to some difficulties at home and currently residing in my Moms home, has lived in Prescott Arizona for the past 8 years.  I had hoped to visit him but he left just weeks before Laura and I would arrive.  The good news is he is the perfect person to spread my Mom&#8217;s ashes.  I think that is why we only spread a small amount of her at the beach, down near the huge rocks she often walked us to as children.   Synchronicities make life beautiful; my Uncle Jimmy has a home for a while and we finally have been shown what has been waiting to reveal itself in regards to my Mom’s ashes.</p>
<p>Families, like ecosystems, need a fulcrum to balance the opposing forces that can threaten to devastate if presence and awareness are not a part of the ingredients of the whole co-mingling.  I am learning that the fulcrum can often be the ask; the ability to ask for what we need, from a place of love.  For me, an important element of a fulcrum is love.  It’s amazing how emotions, the power of them, can be the fulcrum between chaos and order, between homelessness and finding home everywhere you go.  I am on the journey of finding home where ever I am.  I did for 2 days with Lazer &amp; Maggie.  We had an experience of love with our hosts too; love and the knowledge that you are loved are like water in a dry desert climate.</p>
<p>Now Laura and I are camping among the boulders at Joshua Tree.  Enjoy the photos.  I’ll have more in a few days.  Next up- Lake Havasu and the Grand Canyon.</p>
<p>Love to you all.</p>
<p>You are safely in my heart,</p>
<p>Jean Marie.</p>
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