Dressing

In being fitted for my costume for the production of Shakespeare’s Richard II, that we are rehearsing, I got stuck trying to take off my outer layer with the laces. It became clear why the nobles had servants to dress and undress them. It was impossible to do it by yourself.

That incident threw me back in time when I was two or three years old and learning to dress myself. I remembered vividly the frustration I experienced as my feet got tangled in the arm holes and the wrong leg went into the other side of my leggings, so that they would end up backwards. They had suspenders that held them up under my matching coat, but did my skirt go on top of the leggings or did it get stuffed into them? Such a dilemma! My sweaters never buttoned up the way they should and I would have to unbutton them and start all over again. My little fingers would get so tired.

Then there was this unruly mop of curly hair that was a tangled mess to brush or comb. Yelps and tears were the norm and I am sure my governess was more upset than I was. How hard it was to reach that facility that now, I take for granted.

Well, sort of. Here I am, at an advanced age, struggling with the same incompetence in dressing as when I was a little girl. All the actors will help each other with our costumes as we will all be in the same boat. Since there are quite a few costume changes, we will be rather busy.

When I played on Broadway, we had union dressers but Boulder is a long way from Broadway.



Prema Rose

There’s something beautiful about the snow
that comes in the night,
drifting silently like owl in the darkness.
It covers everything lightly,
hiding all the rough edges,
and brings purity back to the world,
even if only for a moment.

The morning sun crystallizes
all in sight
and beautifies every mundane thing,
reflecting off the snow
that fell silently in the night
on owl wings.

Jyoti

Nettie Pot

It was late June and I was camped out beside the road in a field in northern Wyoming. I was one of twenty-five people that had gathered to participate in a workshop with a Mexican shaman. I knew no one but was determined to learn every one’s name by the end of the long week-end. This was a personal challenge for me, not only as a memory test, but because I had never attended a workshop like this so totally alone.

Truth be told, I was recently separated from my husband and it was my son’s 7th birthday. He was with his father and I was sitting with wonderful people that I did not yet know. It was the first time I was not with him on his birthday. I cried every day.

Secondly, for some obscene reason, I had set up my tent beside a dirt road which was spewing dust with every car that went by. I had no idea there would be so many. By the end of the first day I was in a full blown allergy attack, puffy face and eyes nearly swollen shut. I left the group and found a lonely shrub to crawl behind and I sat there silently sobbing, miserable, lonely and consumed by grief. I heard footsteps and there was the old Mexican shaman. He was a very short man and he looked at me with such compassion that my heart split open and my whole body shook with sobs. We did not share language and could not speak to one another, but he placed his hand on top of my head and then brushed loose hair off my wet face. He stood over me and whispered words.

After he walked away, I stood up, dusted myself off and headed for the bath house to splash cold water on my face. At dinner that night I was approached by three older women who were wild-crafters for an herb company out of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. They told me all about the nettie pot and how it had helped them with their hay fever symptoms. Mix ¼ tsp of sea salt with 1 cup of warm water, tilt your head to one side and let this saline run through your sinus cavity. It sounded so simple.

Once at home I purchased a nettie pot from my local health food store and I have had a love affair with it every since. Excitedly I gave one to my mom in Kansas City and one to my sister in Springfield. I wouldn’t dream of getting on an airplane without one and gently packed mine all over Scotland a few years ago. About that same time my mother saw a woman on TV demonstrating how to use a nettie pot. A few days later my youngest brother called me and said, “Why didn’t you tell me about this years ago? I have worked with concrete dust all my life. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was actually mad at me. I reminded him that I did try to tell him and the rest of my family about it so many years ago, but they all just laughed it off as “another crazy thing” that Annette does. I told them all. But a woman on TV made it all legitimate for her.

I continue to sing the praises of the simple nettie pot. I have heard so many folks tell me that they would feel like they were drowning. But I tell them “if you can breath while your dentist has both hands in your mouth, you can use a nettie pot. It is way easier than the dentist.”

Flue bugs, cold viruses, sinus infections VS salt water and a simple nettie pot.
Try it, you may like it! I am pretty sure that you will not drown.

* annette

The Santa Monica Pier

It was a time to escape the millions of people on Santa Monica beach.

My friend and his wife needed a break from one another. He and I joined his neighbor on his sixteen foot sailboat and headed into the Pacific. It was amazing to watch as the coast reached further and further away. We kept extending further into the ocean, delighting into leaving the millions back on land.

After going so far west, we turned and headed north and kept going. Our friend had his little radio on playing soft music.

All of a sudden, we were covered in thick fog. We could not see anything. Our friend turned off his radio, bringing in total silence. It became very eerie, such quietness. We kept heading north. We had no idea which direction we were going. But with the thick fog we had no idea which direction we were going.

In a flash we looked up and discovered we were in a sailing regatta. We were headed straight for a huge colorful spinnaker , then another, and another. How surprising, now what? The huge sailboats were blowing at us, as we were doing our best to get out of the way. Eventually we did and what beauty surrounded us. The fog just as quickly disappeared. We eventually headed back to the shoreline. We headed for all the people we had attempted to get away from. But the quietness we prized was worth the adrenaline we managed to pump up.

Patricia

A Spiritual Experience

I sat among the scrub oaks in the Jersey woods. It was midday on a sunny, Fall day and I had just come from saying hello to a couple who lived in a log cabin at the end of the paved road. I was deciding whether to head down the sandy path to my tent, set deeper into the forest, or whether to bike over to the Island and walk the beaches.
As I sat there hidden from view and breathing into the day, I felt a presence behind me. I didn’t jump up to look, but searched with my inner eye as to what I needed to see and know. I felt the slightest pressure on my shoulders and, in my mind’s eye, I saw Christ standing behind me with his hands there.
I was filled to overflowing with a deep loving, knowing that everything in that moment was okay, was perfect. That I was okay and deeply loved was communicated as well. I felt that love penetrate into my cells, into my heart. The tears, streaming down my cheeks, cleaned away a lot of the self-doubt and loneliness aftermath of the marriage’s end and gave me renewed hope to continue.
After a few minutes, I rose, wiped the tears away, and sent a silent prayer of gratitude for the experience.

This happened over thirty years ago and still is a vivid memory.
Jyoti

Ode to Shakespeare

'Tis learning lines and whence to move
That at my age is wont to prove,
That sorely it doth tax my brain
And all this work to be in vain.
Ah, Shakespeare, though I am imbued
With rhyming couplets and subdued
Within my honesty to know
That all in all, I strive to grow,
As doth the ever climbing vine
To reach for sunlight and to shine
Upon the branches of this tree
And thus illumine memory.
As much as I repeat my words
And sing aloft to listening birds,
As cadence lilts so easily
Within my heart to set it free,
My struggle to retain the clue
To the next line that doth ensue.
The rambling path to a clear thought
Becomes a labyrinth so frought
With twists and turns that I get lost,
But hold my own at any cost.
Yet slow retention doth advance
And on I go to dance this dance.

Prema Rose

Prompt: Circles/Jyoti

Circles I
Circles within circles
some of light
some of dark
twining, rippling,
allowing
lines coming
from cosmic sources,
others of human mind
colliding, grappling enforcing,
destroying
to be rebuilt with beauty
and light.
Ever widening circles
of truth,
my truth
your truth
the truth
all available
in the Cosmic circles
we call our lives.

Circles II
Circles of friends,
circles of people
I’d rather not
fit into.
Circles of behavior
over and over
need different choices
to set in motion
new circles of ideas,
new circles of results.

Circles III
Circles within circles,
families, friends,
neighborhoods,
religions, cultures,
races, countries,
worlds,
how these perimeters
lock us in,
block others out,
defining
eliminating
other circles
than our own.

Circles IV
Circling around,
I look for the silver lining,
I look for the truth
of any circle
I step into.
I’m circling light
like Earth is
circling the Sun.
It is my warmth
and my focus.
Circling light.
Circling.