tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18920837485555717672024-03-07T01:49:23.006-07:00The Goat's Lunch PailLeah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.comBlogger1727125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-78039335583996134322020-04-27T08:26:00.000-06:002020-04-27T08:26:18.330-06:00Gratitude Monday - Crystal Clear Edition<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Today I am grateful for a number of things, including the reminder to
make offerings to the Wee Folk.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">Here's what happened:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Last week on Facebook friend Virginia Lee shared a post from the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/search/top/?q=fae%20propaganda%20department">Fae Propaganda Department</a>. It made me smile and intrigued me to find out more on
its page.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">I did, and in the course of it read comments including one from a woman
who said when things went missing in her former home she'd have to put an
offering of chocolate on top of the refrigerator. The missing item was found
about a half-hour later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">This nibbled at my mind. I'd been looking for a quartz crystal to put back
on my computer desk. I'd swapped it out for another a few months earlier as it
needed to be cleansed and recharged. I knew where I'd put it to recharge. It
wasn't there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">This sent me on a hunt to all the likely places, then the unlikely
places, and then the likely places again with a few stops at where it ought to
be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">So when I read the comment I thought I'd try it. It's always good to
provide a little something for the Wee Folk when they are about. Things going
missing can be an indication of that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">I considered briefly what to offer, but chocolate was on my mind. I
briefly considered not putting out my favourite, but that is wrong on every
level. One must give one's best. The Wee Folk know when it isn't.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">My favourite chocolate is Lindt Mint. It has gotten expensive so I am
careful about how often I have it. There was no question in my mind. Lindt Mint
or I shouldn't even bother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">I took a square of it, wrapped it in wax paper, and set it on top of
the refrigerator.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't think the site
is mandatory, but it was in my mind so that is what I did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">About two hours later I looked again at where the crystal ought to be.
Then turned around and looked between the TV screen and sound bar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">There it was. And I even thought I remembered putting it there.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd seen this location many
times for a variety of reasons over the past month or two. My eyes had swept
over this location many times during the search.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">And that's not all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">The next day I reached into my sock drawer and drew out a lone black
sock. I have two other<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>pair from a set
of three pair I bought together. One sock of one pair had been missing for more
than a year. But on this occasion I reached in again toward the back and pulled
out a second single black sock of the same make and model.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">The other two pair from the set were accounted for. This was the missing
sock.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">I said thank you and found myself quite tickled over the events.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">A few other things have come about for us since I put out the offering.
Another one specific to me was the other day in Sobeys as I was grocery
shopping I found Lindt chocolate bars, including mint, on sale for $3 each,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">I am grateful for all of these including to VL for putting me on to the
Fae Propaganda Department. It is even helping me with a rewrite of an old manuscript.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">It might be a good idea to offer a little something to the Wee Folk,
whether anything is missing or not. It certainly can't hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-54267791019214161252020-04-13T08:29:00.003-06:002020-04-13T08:29:27.560-06:00Gratitude Monday--What The Bunny BroughtToday is Easter Monday and I see by the calendar that it is not marked as a holiday any longer.<br />
It may still be considered so by some business, but it will escape most notice as most things are closed anyway.<br />
What it does do is give us a chance to quietly reflect, if we wish, on what's happened, how the world has changed, and which changes are likely to stick.<br />
I have no idea what will last and what will revert. I'm open to waiting and seeing.<br />
<br />
What I can say is the the Easter Bunny brought a quiet enough weekend that the birds seem louder and can be heard from farther away. Without constant traffic to muffle their song they pierce the silence in a manner that is so uncommon as to border the unsettling.<br />
The chickadees sound happier and I have heard a merlin call twice now in the past few days. The other morning it seemed like it was several blocks to the north. In the past I doubt I would have heard it.<br />
We see wildlife roaming in cities. We will probably seem more plants growing because we aren't walking on them. We're already seeing clearer air and water.<br />
The Bunny brought a reminder that given the opportunity Nature will reclaim what it lost.<br />
I hope we learn the lesson well.<br />
<br />
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-25567530476270848092020-04-11T07:50:00.001-06:002020-04-11T07:50:19.566-06:00Why We Do It<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Reality is what I say it is. Do you hear
me?" The project boss looked down the bump slits on his face toward the
subordinate. "Do you?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"It's hard to define reality," A. argued.
"There is no one reality. On that planet, like everyone on it, there are
different versions of it."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"You know that, and I know that, and everyone
else on board knows it, but," he swiveled around in his floor glider and
fixed his amygdaline eyes somewhere past the subordinate's face. "But they
don't know it. And it is best if they don't figure it out for several more
generations."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"That's your story, boss. I think they are
ready."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Reality there is a group agreement they work
with. It is best for them in their puny excuse for development. Anything else
is more than the majority can handle. Now get back to work. There's a sample
couple in the north quadrant who are asking uncomfortable questions. Deal with
it."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Deal with it, boss?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Shut them up. Or feed some confusing blather
into their minds. Make it real enough to be almost believable."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"You mean set them up to fail?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"I mean set them up with a nonsense version of
the truth. We're not ready to be known."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"I don't see what purpose that serves."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"If you want something, you think about it. Or
they do. What they don't understand is the corollary; if you don't want
something, you think about how much you don't want it. The Universe makes no
distinction. You get what you think about."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"I understand that, but, oh, I see. They'll think
about us. It's preparatory. Sneaky, but it will work."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"That's why we do it."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-21461389073271729782020-04-07T11:38:00.000-06:002020-04-07T11:38:54.198-06:00A Light Bulb Moment<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">The lounge quickly became the meeting area not just
for the subordinates, but for actual meetings. The boss said it was easier that
way. Less formal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"I've heard the questions and I comprehend why
you are worried. It's the whole forgetting thing you have to do. What happens
if I forget too well?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Nothing, that's what. Both meanings, too. Either
enough of you forget so well that the wake up encoding is ignored and then
nothing happens this round. Or you go along in your lives, wake up as designed,
and the world changes. That means, nothing is wrong. Nothing bad happened.
"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">B. piped up from the middle of the lounge chairs.
"So no matter how much we 'go local' it's all right? We're going in to
disarm them in the good way. Change up the mess they made and get<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>them back on the path that fear lured them
away from yet no matter if we fail or succeed it's all right? You can see why
this might be confusing."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"I can and it is. The point is the world you're
entering must be entirely your world until you, that is, it, is ready. The way
down there must be your second nature. You need to live among them in their
way, like I've told you, before you can see why it has to change. It takes one
to change one, as it might be said."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">More murmuring from the crowd. The boss relaxed a
little. "Like the joke down there goes, how many people does it take to
change a light bulb?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">They waited. No one asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Only one, but the light has to want to
change."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">Polite nodding followed by laughter followed by lost
looks of confusion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Be the light that wants to change."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;"><br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-75891839899254419982020-04-01T08:19:00.000-06:002020-04-01T08:19:00.049-06:00Courage<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Come child, let me take you out and away for a while. It'll remind
you what you're doing this for. And it will give you courage."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Courage, grandma? Don't I have it already?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Of course you do, child. This will remind you of it, and of the
truth. That tends to be forgotten later on. This way, when you think of the
things you'll be thinking about, you'll see what you're thinking about."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Grandma, you're confusing me. Can't we stay here?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I like it next to you. I want to hear more
about my triggers and what I'm to do with them when they're pulled."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"We'll be back, love. This is what you've asked me to do. You've
forgotten that you arranged this."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I didn't remember that at all. What I did remember was how warm and safe
it was next to her and I sure didn't want anything to stop that. "Maybe we
could just have a summer scene?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The thin creature beside me laughed a gently, almost tinkling laugh. I
hardly ever heard her laugh. When I did it made me feel so happy like a warm
cover over me keeping away the plans I'd made, the experiences I'd selected,
and the very possible ostracizing I'd face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"We'll use any scene you wish, child. After we get back."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We whooshed away. Out of the cocoon and past the sky out to the cosmos
and beyond.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We kept going, kept
whooshing until all the stars and planets melted into one great light. We
rolled and soared and rolled some more as great wells of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>energy rose up through us and around us until
eventually if we'd been breathing, we'd have been breathless.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The scene around me was astounding.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Familiar in one sense and completely foreign in another. I felt like a
five year old and an adult as the two consciousness inside me fought for
supremacy. Fought to see who was the most moved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I relaxed. Child me, in her wonder, won. "Grandma, what is this
place? It's so beautiful."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Lights burst and twinkled in a deep blue while lights in orange and yellow
and purple<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and the other colours, the
ones beyond the spectrum that earth eyes can't see, danced around us to the music
that surrounded them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Can you hear it, child? Use your inner ear."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The knowing, the contact, the long golden cord that connects everything
with everyone at every time. Where was it? Did I still have it? Adult me
worried while child me took over again.<br />
"I hear it. I hear it. The high hum. Oh, it's so beautiful. I don't want
to ever leave."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"This is what you keep inside you, child. This is what connects
you. It is what gives you courage when the darkness of youth and ignorance try
to shut you down and force you to live within its comfortable limitations."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Lights streaked by. A great well of energy and love flowed through me,
illuminating my body and beside me, grandma's body became incandescent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Look, child," and she pointed finger toward a small dot of
light so far away. "Remember that. In the great scope of infinity,
remember that. It will reinforce your courage. You know what courage is?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Tell me, grandma." <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"It's the thing you do when your mind tells you not to, but you know
it's right so you do it anyway. Will you remember that, child? It'll be the
message in your heart that says do it anyway."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"Will I hear this when I do? I want to."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">She didn't say anything. Instead she reached for my hand and we were
back in the cozy<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>place and it was
raining outside. A glorious downpour with rivers cascading off the ends of the
roof.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"I'll remember, grandma."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"I know you will, child."</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-59144430422983212712020-02-27T14:45:00.002-07:002020-02-27T14:59:37.026-07:00The Parallel<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
"Grandmother, why don't I feel?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Child, it is because you feel too much."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"But grandmother, I want to be like them."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"No, child. You can't. You are you and they are
they. Never the twain."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Why not, grandmother? Why won't the twains
meet?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"They are parallels child, and parallels do not
meet. The lines you see meeting in the distance is illusion. Like all
things."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"But why am I on this parallel, grandmother?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"This was the choice you made before the lines
were lain down, love. All had their choices. Many chose the other
parallel."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Are there more on my parallel, grandmother? Am I
alone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"You are never alone, child. There are others on
your parallel."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"How will I know them, grandmother?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"By their hands reaching back to support you, child,
and by those who grasp the hand you reach back to guide."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Will I feel then, grandmother?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;">"Will you let yourself, child?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 70.0pt;"><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-52254233780021096612020-02-10T00:30:00.000-07:002020-02-10T00:30:18.711-07:00Gratitude Monday --Thyme For Everything EditionYesterday I put a pot of stew on the stove over the noon hour to give it plenty of time to simmer and gather before our dinner.<br />
As the black tea steeped its 20 minutes so it would properly tenderize the meat, and the cubed meat itself sizzled in its mission to brown, I mixed my spices.<br />
There are a few that go in it notably paprika, garlic, salt, pepper, and the thyme we grew ourselves in a patch in the front yard that has been going strong for more than 20 years.<br />
As I mixed them together I threw in a generous amount of thyme. It goes well with meat, I discovered, and it is difficult to have too much thyme. As I thought about it, I realized I use thyme in almost every savoury dish I prepare.<br />
"There's thyme for everything, " I said to myself as I stirred in the tea and then added a frozen tomato to the pot.<br />
<br />
This made me think and what I though about was the spice's homophone, time.<br />
Is there really time for everything?<br />
Yes, I believe there is.<br />
Granted, life gets in the way all the time. Matters rear up and have to be dealt with before we can get to the things we want to and eventually those some of those wanted things get shifted to the back burner to simmer like the stew or are relegated to a back cupboard in the mind. There they rest and bide their time until we find them when we're looking for something else. But we don't forget them, because they are things we want to do and we always think there will be time.<br />
<br />
I have managed to do most of the things I have wanted to and for that I am grateful. But I know not everyone can, because most of us let life get in the way and then use lack of time as an excuse.<br />
I recall once a few years ago a friend came to town for a few days, but did not find the time to contact me.<br />
The reason offered later was there was there had been no time, and I accepted this. It had been a busy time and being busy takes energy, but time was not the reason.<br />
<br />
We can feel overwhelmed, and often do, and we hide behind that as an excuse to not live as we choose, play as we choose, rest as we choose.<br />
<br />
There is time for everything if we really want it, because time is all we have.<br />
<br />
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-82538822641120080942020-01-23T15:18:00.001-07:002020-01-23T15:18:42.297-07:00Bring Back Romantic Friendship<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Whatever
happened to romantic friendship? It used to be, until about a hundred years ago
that friends could show their affection, profess undying love, and look after
one another emotionally without anyone so much as twitching a whisker.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Wiki
explains romantic friendship </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Romantic_friendship"><span style="line-height: 150%;">this way.</span></a><span style="line-height: 150%;"> In short
it's a passionate and usually non-sexual friendship with a physical closeness
not seen in western society.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This
is missing today. Men can shake hands with one another, but not hold them. Any
touching they get is done under the cover of sports and often involves
fighting.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's
a<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>bit better for women, but even them
too much physical closeness gets questioned. Consequently they have all but disappeared.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not
entirely, of course. But they have gone underground. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Years
ago I did a story for Women's History Month. My subject had been a nurse who had
been quite a character. Among other things she was known for physically hauling
in people off the street to make sure they got their shots. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She'd died about five years earlier so I
couldn't interview her, but I did speak to her friend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
two women were companions. Close friends, never married, and they'd shared a
house until death parted them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Work took
one away from town for long periods of time. When the other retired she would
often go up and stay with her friend.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
the one died the other continued going to go each year where they'd wintered
and took a large framed photo of her friend along.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I
wrote the story not quite sure what to make of their relationship other than
knowing it really wasn't my business. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Any local person I discussed it with left a
great deal unsaid.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Not
long afterward I found the book,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Surpassing The Love of Men: Romantic Friendship
and Love Between Women From the Renaissance to the Present</i>, by Lillian Faderman<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Quill, William Morrow, 1981).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">This
opened a fascinating world for me. I had no idea such relationships existed and
it made me look at the Women's History feature I'd written in a new light. I
don't know the degree and details of their relationship and neither does it
matter. What these two women had together worked for them, met their needs, and
harmed no one.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Same
sex marriage is legal and we see same sex couples in shows and movies and it is
wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But we also need the middle
ground. Friendship as we commonly see it is great, friends hug, occasionally
have a passing touch in a conversation or will comfort one another, but that's
about it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
think we need more physical contact. I believe we'd be healthier and happier
and feel less alone if we could have friendship where we weren’t concerned with
what everyone thinks or feel the need to question our sexuality.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Bring
back romantic friendship for all our sakes.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-74683639204918957562020-01-20T00:30:00.000-07:002020-01-20T00:30:00.608-07:00Gratitude Monday - Eyes On The Skies EditionI'm sorry I haven't been around lately, blogwise. I haven't forgotten about it. I needed a wee break. I hope to post a bit more regularly in the future, but who knows?<br />
For now I am grateful that I have a blog to write in.<br />
<br />
If you've been reading my posts, then you know I've had a few interesting experiences in my life and that I attribute them to extraterrestrials. Give that history you will not be surprised to learn that I have taken the next logical step.<br />
I am a field investigator for MUFON. That is, I investigate UFO sighting reports.<br />
<br />
I joined MUFON Canada about a year ago and wondered about becoming an investigator. I got great support from its director emeritus Andre Morin. He answered my questions and gave me unflagging support as I read the manual and wondered if it was for me.<br />
I am grateful to Andre for this.<br />
<br />
There's a test to take. It is open book and you can take all the time you need. Open book tests are the hardest, but I passed. There has been additional training and there will be more.<br />
<br />
This is volunteer work. We do it in our spare time and I am grateful that I have the time to spare.<br />
It is eye-opening and it is fulfilling. I am grateful that I get to do this.<br />
<br />
Eyes on the skies, my friends.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-71881496406977938612019-06-13T10:38:00.000-06:002019-06-13T10:38:47.813-06:00The Appendix Dreams<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">For most of my life I've dreamt about
having my appendix out. I'd be in the hospital prior to the surgery and then it
was a day or two later. Sometimes I was still in the hospital, other times I
was walking outside of it in the dark of night, and never did I recall what had
happened during those days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Those I got used to. I haven't had one
in years and in an odd way I miss them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But one time when I was 10 the dream
changed. Instead of waking up afterward <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I woke up on the operating table. I'd only
ever been in hospital treatment room once and that was to have a cast put on my
leg. That room was tone blue with dark at the bottom half of the walls and
lighter blue above this mark. I was awake for that and I recall it fairly well.
I remember some lowered lights above me and I tried to sit up to watch the
pasted strips being wound around my leg.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In the dream I woke up surrounded by a
team of doctors. Their faces were covered from the nose down with surgical
masks. They wore dull aquamarine surgical gowns with matching caps that covered
most of their foreheads. And I have it in my mind they all wore glasses. I
don't recall the exactly what those glasses look like. It's about the only
think that I'm not sure of. In my mind they are plain eyeglasses with thick
heavy black square frames that cover their eyes<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>and reach from the surgical mask to the caps. Their eyes are dark. I can
see a bit of skin on them. I think it's flat, yellowy brown. I don't recall
noticing any hands. There are at least six of them staring down at me on the
table. I am surrounded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The other thing remember is the
dullness of the light. Not subdued or dimmed, but dull. The light above me is a
dingy, faded yellow such as you might get out of a 30 watt bulb. The room is
also dingy, almost dirty, looking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">They all seem tall and thin though I
am only 10 and barely five feet tall at the time. Everyone is tall to me. I
can't say if they are male or female though I have the sense that the one at
the foot of the table is male. That's all I know about the dream because that's
all I saw. I went right back to sleep on that table and then it was morning in
my own bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This stayed with me right from the
time I had it. However, I didn't think too much about it other than it was a
really odd dream, It wasn't until I read Whitley Strieber's <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>book <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Communion</i>
in the late 80s which contained a similar description on a ship that I
associated it with anything beyond a dream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Is it a dream? A memory? I honestly
can't say for a fact. It is one more item on the list of odd things in my life.
Separately, they may not mean much. Together, I believe they are <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>evidence of ETs in my life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-70688998667374898062019-06-04T17:57:00.000-06:002019-06-04T17:57:07.565-06:00The Other Side of the Story<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p> </o:p>So far I've talked about aliens/ETs, the ones I call my
people. Wrapped up in the UFO phenomenon is paranormal activity. Are they
related? I can only speak for my life. In that respect, they sure are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Paranormal can't be explained by conventional means and that
means it can't be explained by acceptable means. It's well past time to enlarge
what acceptable means can mean.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But that's an argument for later and for better qualified
folk to answer. All I've got right now is me and so that's all I can talk
about. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here's some of my other stuff.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was this one day in the eighties. I'm in my early 20s
living in a high-rise apartment. I've got a job, search clerk in a government
office. This is where liens and chattels are registered as well as limited
companies. It's boring, but it's work. I'm really a journalist, you see, but
the one reporting job I had I hated. It was in the buckle town of the province
Bible belt. I lasted less than four months. It didn't help that I didn't have a
driver's license.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It made for a dull life. I paid my bills, read, dreamt of
being a writer and often wondered what to do with my life. Usual 20s stuff, but
with a feeling of inertia.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then one day in the shower I had this feeling. It came from
nowhere. I hadn't been thinking of my future and probably not thinking much
more than why did the three step hair shampoo I used had bottles for steps one
and three but a small squeeze tube for step two.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The feeling washed over me like the shower was doing, only this
feeling came from inside: Everything was going to be all right in my thirties.
And I smiled inside. I wasn't a smiler then. I barely knew how to do it, but my
mind grinned ear to ear. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The feeling didn't last very long, but the memory never left
me. It didn't stay topmost in my mind, but I'd think of it from time to time.
But at no point did I ever sit down to figure out how that was going to happen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Instead I went to work until one day I went travelling with
a new friend to Europe. Then I came home after a few months and decided to get
back to journalism. I sent out resume after resume to every newpaper in the
province I could find and wound up in the south end of the centre. I covered
just about everything but sports and loved it. Oh, and I had my driver's
license by this time. A few things happened here. In one, on the way back from
the interview for that job one sunny Saturday in July as the canola bloomed and
waved hot gold against the deep blue sky I saw a unicorn.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can't prove it, but I know it happened. I was driving up the
highway on the way back and out the corner of my eye a large white horse in a
field stood out. Or rather, its single dynamic horn jutting skyward caught my
eye. My parents were with me. I'd never driven on the big freeway before and
only had my license a few months. I wanted the company and they wanted the
scenic drive. It all worked out.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, I didn't mention the unicorn. I kind of regret that.
My parents were pretty cool that way. Mom was a bit on the psychic side and
read Fate Magazine. Dad always wanted to see aliens and go for a ride. In
retrospect, that should have been an indicator.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The there was court. I loved covering Provincial Court.. One
learns a great deal and it's passive newsgathering at its best. Anyone, one
day a new Crown Prosecutor showed up to handle the day's files. She looked 32.
I don't know where I got that, but it struck me as probably her age. She seemed
to have it all together. I have no idea if she did or didn't, but she handled
herself in the courtroom and certainly gave the appearance of having it
together.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I decided that 32 was going to be the best age for me,
and then I remembered again about how things were going got be okay in my
thirties.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I worked there 33 months and took another
trip to Europe. That's for later. For this, I took the trip, came home to my
parent's house, read the Bible cover to cover, and then decided to get
another reporting job.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That one took me to Ft. St.John B.C. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I spent six months there at a daily newspaper. That was fine,
but I didn't feel right there. It wasn't for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Quit that mess after six months, hung around at my parents
house and then realized I'd better get another job. That's how I ended up in
the job I stayed at and the town I live in and found the man I married.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time I was 32 I was living with my going to be
someday husband, had a job I liked in a town I liked and everything felt pretty
good.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One night I had one of those dreams. You know, the kind that
really aren't dreams at all but you don't quite know the right word so you go
with dream and hope for the best.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was alone, fiancé was away working, it was during the dead
hours of the night when I visited me. The me of the 80s high-rise apartment
hesitated as she walked into the bedroom. I sat up in bed and made myself as
open to younger me as I could. Young me was so shy, withdrawn, hesitant. Then
me remembered those feelings so well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We talked. I have forgotten about what. I remember the red
pants and red and white striped shirt younger me wore to the visit. Younger me
even had makeup on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then me made some comforting reassuring noises to younger me
and said everything would be all right as the visit ended. Then me stretched
out her arms for a hug that younger me was reluctant to accept. I wasn't a
hugger then. I wanted to be, but I didn't know how to do it. Then me understood
and hugged younger me while younger me accepted it but did not respond, her
arms lifeless at her side.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She left, and then me fell back to sleep immediately,
knowing after all these years I'd seen the other side of the story.</div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-66276258239555216862019-06-02T17:25:00.001-06:002019-06-02T17:25:39.551-06:00Content To Wait?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
All my life I've had the feeling I
was to do something important. Not so much world-changing, but important nonetheless.
I'm just a gearwheel, but what I do matters. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
Accompanying this is the feeling,
knowledge really, that the thing I do is after some big world change. I'm not
going to speculate on any world changes here. Perhaps it's Edgar Cayces' predicted
physical upheaval, it may be restricted to the social landscape. Whatever it
is, it will be big and I am here to help afterward.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
That's all fine and good, but I
also think I need to be doing something until those changes occur. It
frustrates me to feel this and have no way to determine what it is.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
On the other hand, maybe I should
just be content to wait. Maybe I've got some deep-seated suggestion that is
triggered by an event. Maybe I wake up to the knowledge I need. Maybe my ET
family swings by and activates my memory. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
All I can swear to is I've had
continuous conscious recollection of this my entire life. Along with it since I
was 17 years old I have seen myself on a stage, in front of a closed curtain,
speaking publicly. About what I do not know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
For now all I can do is wait and
watch and speak publicly via this blog about what I recall, what I've known
through feelings, and maybe start a conversation about ETs and world changes,
and all the other things we don't talk about.</div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-65640704380105119182019-05-30T19:39:00.000-06:002019-05-30T19:39:12.303-06:00Taking Stock<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I am of extraterrestrial stock.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
My parents were human. I'm human, but also alien as near as I can figure it. I've written about it here from time to time, but at no point have
I actually said it. That stops today. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I've written about the clown in
the barn and how it started as a being who visited me and drew it on the wall
in grease pencil. That's how I remember it, and I have continuous conscious
recollection of it. That said, it was for my eyes only as the reminder was for
me alone. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
She used to visit me often and
during those times I was no child. A full- grown adult consciousness took over
as we spoke. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
We talked of what I am to do here
in this life. I don't know what that is, but I do know if I am not open about who
and what I am, the heritage I share, then I may never know it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Are you wondering what my parents would think of this?<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
My mom would be cool about it as she had some moderate psychic ability and read
all the Edgar Cayce materials she could get her hands on. Past lives were her
interest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
My dad always wanted to be
abducted by aliens and taken for a ride. He was clear he wanted them to bring
him back, but a quick trip around the cosmos was on his list.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I asked him once, "Aren't
you scared?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
He replied, "What's to be
scared of?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
Back to me. I am sure that
full-grown adult consciousness is still in here somewhere. I wish it would come
back out. I want to know what it knows. It is possible it is simply adult me that
through some process of time and space and reality was available to me there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
I have no idea what is going to
happen next. For now, it is important to get the matter out on the public
record. I am of alien heritage and I look forward to what is next.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;">
<br /></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-40113896083489605312019-03-25T10:12:00.003-06:002019-03-25T10:12:48.755-06:00Gratitude Monday -- The Magic CupboardThis morning when I opened the cupboard to get some cooking oil I saw lurking at the back a large container of olives. This was a wonderful vision, and for it I am grateful, but it was an unexpected one. I'd opened the 3L container of Kalamata olives a few weeks ago.<br />
We love these olives. The nearest source for these containers ( 231-260 large olives in each) is Edmonton so we buy three at a time usually and they last us perhaps a year. We stocked up last April so opening the last remaining container recently was no surprise, but I took a second look afterward to make sure.<br />
I moved several containers around to make sure it was the last of its kind and realized, with a pang, that when it was gone we'd have to find a reason to go to the city.<br />
This morning's discovery was the very happiest of surprises, but similar things have happened in the past.<br />
<br />
We used to have a magic freezer. I'd think I'd be out of something and then one day, there's be one more of it in with the other frozen foods.<br />
It started about 25 years ago when we got some sauerkraut from Mike's dad in the fall. It was so good that we went through it quickly, probably less than two months.<br />
I craved it and looked several times in the freezer in a case a container had fallen way down to the bottom and gotten covered. I emptied the freezer. I rearranged the contents. Nothing.<br />
Then one day in the following March I went in to get something and there was a container of it, sitting almost on top of the rest of the food.<br />
Oh yes, I was grateful.<br />
Over the next few years similar things happened with that freezer . I dubbed it "The Magic Freezer" and often wondered if I was ever really out of anything.<br />
<br />
We had to get a new freezer last spring. I am not sure if the magic has transferred to the new one or not, but if not, then at least it found a new home in the cupboard.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-13617769569228208192019-01-24T14:17:00.000-07:002019-01-24T14:17:10.262-07:00A Walk, A Dream, And An Answer<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I've danced
around this subject in various posts, trying to make sense of the events of my
life. I've known what they are, but I could never find the hook I needed to
write about them publicly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I'd been
looking for the big splash event, the kind of encounter one remembers and can
hang a post, or talk, or a book on. The book I am working on. I've found a way
to tell the stories of odd events and past life memories together as a </span><em><span style="background: white; font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">roman</span></em><span style="background: white; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> à </span><em style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-style: normal; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">clef </span></em></span><span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">rather than memoir.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">This is
different. This is coming out publicly as one who has had contact with
extraterrestrials, and none who believes she shares a consciousness with them.
Here is a bit of my story.</span><em><b><span lang="EN-CA" style="background: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal;"> </span></b></em><em><b><span style="background: white; color: #6a6a6a; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></em></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">#<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I felt compelled to take a walk south of the barn, and there was no bargaining with me about it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It was
March when I was in grade six. That makes me 11 years old. It was Friday and I
was riding the school bus when I saw myself in my mind walking south from the
barn to the windrows. A few years earlier after we got rid of the cows dad
ploughed up the pasture south of the barn and knocked down several acres of
trees in an east- west orientation<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to
make more fields. The pasture used to go south out to those trees. Now it was
all crop though not in March of course.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I reasoned
with myself as the bus approached my home. It was cloudy and cold and already
about 4 p.m. Dark wasn't for a while yet, but it would be along soon enough. A
slight wind blew, and some thin snowflakes were falling. All in all a really
lousy time to go for a walk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I did as I
usually did, went inside, put on some jeans and other home clothes all the
while bargaining with myself. The drive to walk to the south end of the former
pasture had me in a firm grip, but the major thinking portion of my mind
thought there was some leeway.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">"I'll
just go to the barn," I told myself as I put on a coat and cowboy boots.
Despite the cold I didn't put on winter boots and neither had I put on long
underwear under my jeans. I didn't think I'd be out long. At the barn I decided
to walk to the edge of barnyard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm
sure dad was in the barn cleaning a pig pen and I know there was no clown to
greet meet this time. I simply walked thought it,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>probably speaking with dad and then telling
myself I'd go the fence at the edge of the barnyard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">So I did,
and when I got there I told myself, "I'll go to the edge of the
pasture." There was road beside it that led to a field to the west of the
former pasture. This became my conscious goal. The unconscious goal remained
going to the south end to where the windrows started.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">But I kept
on going. One foot in front of the other. Large clumps of ploughed- up dirt
make difficult walking at the best of times. I remember wishing it had stayed a
flat pasture. These were frozen clumps. They slowed my progress and I even
thought about stopping and turning around and going back. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">But I
didn't.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">How I felt
escapes me other than what I was doing was right. This sureness rested past my
conscious awareness. It existed as a thing I knew and the things one knows are
not questioned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Not every
feeling escaped me. I felt cold. Denim alone doesn't protect all that well from
a bitter March wind and cowboy boots aren't warm especially as I likely had on
fairly thin socks. At no point had it occurred to me to dress properly for the
trip. I'm commonly cold. For a few years, until about age 13, I wore an old
winter coat in the house because of it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On this occasion I felt the cold and ignored
it as a mere inconvenience. I noticed it and kept on, one foot in front of the
other, eyes ahead to the charred trees in the windrows that we'd burned the
previous fall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It probably
took 20 minutes from the time I left the house until I'd plunked myself down on
a tree trunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not all of them had burnt.
I can see a trunk with a few spindly branches which still had green, if desiccated,
leaves. I remember this. It has never left me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">This is the
part I am not so clear on. I had a smoke, an American brand of cigarettes that
I liked despite not inhaling the smoke then. That I learned a few months later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I sat
facing the farmyard enjoying the smoke. I looked at the thin brown filter end.
I smoked it down. And then I tossed the nearly empty pack under a log assuming
that I'd come back out again. This I recall clearly. What is as hazy as the
smoke that came out of my mouth is where I got them. Having US smokes from time
to time was hardly unusual. I got them from friends who could get them at a
local store on occasion. Perfectly normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The
non-normal part of this is I have it in my head that I got them from under a
burnt log in the first place. And if I didn't, then it would be highly unusual
to leave them half a mile from my house and therefore largely inaccessible. Yet
this is exactly what happened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">We'd burnt
the windrows in the fall. Smoke still trailed up in a few places, especially
near where I hid the smokes. Then I climbed to the top of the windrow and
looked down into the field. The land had a bit of a roll to it, a few shallow
dips in an otherwise flat stretch. Water had pooled in the dip closest to me. I
remember it rippling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">This is
March in north central Alberta. Open water is rare. It's not unheard of, but
neither is it all that likely. Yet there it was. Deep, dark blue against the
grey-brown soil which itself should have been covered in snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had snow on the ground I am sure, it
simply wasn't in those particular fields.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">After
climbing back down off the logs I walked back to the house, at one point
wondering why I'd come all the way out there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Along with that I felt a little odd, apprehensive maybe, and cold. The
thin flakes swirled down in a stiff breeze that went right through me. I bent
my head and trudged along occasionally slipping when I stepped on a larger clod of frozen dirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">At home I
put on long underwear under my jeans, and another layer under the thin shirt
I'd been wearing. It snowed all weekend. I never did go back to get my smokes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">#<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The cold
spring walk stayed with me. I've never forgotten it, and neither did I
understand it until a dream I had in the early 1990s. I'll call it a dream
because it happened while I slept. It had no real dream quality to it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">In it, I am
11, it is March, and I am at the end of the field standing on top of the
windrow. Instead of a pool of rippling water there is a small spaceship.
Intuitively and without question I know this to be a scout ship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Beside it
is a small creature, a friend of sorts if somewhat businesslike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slender, dark,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>wearing some sort of uniform, also dark. He
motions me toward the ship. I am not sure of the communication. I knew what he
meant. It may have been telepathic, but I do not recall any words.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I get in.
There is a round dome surrounding me. It is transparent. I see my friend ahead
of me and off to the side, waiting. There are levers on the floor. I have been instructed
to fly it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Momentarily,
I panic. How?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then I
remember. It is done by mental control.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I take the
small ship up about 10 feet. I am thrilled I recall how to fly it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I land and
get out. My friend is pleased.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The dream
ends there with a sharp knock on my head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I wake up
and look over at Mike initially blaming him for head-butting me awake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">He is sleep
soundly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The knocking
came from inside my head.</span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">#<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I know this to be the truth. I felt compelled to take the walk to the end of the field that day.<br />Now I know what happened. I am not sure I know why it happened.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-51151873172995232042019-01-21T09:20:00.000-07:002019-01-21T09:20:14.788-07:00Gratitude Monday - Solid Gratitude Edition<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Back in the early 90s I'd had a
dream that started in the house I spent my teen years in on the farm. In it I am in my parent's bedroom and there's a white cat on
the window sill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">Then I am
in my bedroom in my bed in my apartment and this same white cat rushes up from
the foot of the bed to the head. A great waving of rising energy went through
me keeping pace with the cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It is near
impossible for me to describe this feeling properly. Rising, almost tingly,
awake, fully alive, energy, and maybe not quite solid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I rose up.
It felt like my body, but I think I may have felt my body on the bed. I can't
be sure because I so felt so filled with energy. I turned a bit went toward the
open bedroom door. Instead of going through the door I went through the wall
beside it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It felt so
wonderful. I was whole and yet in particles and so free and so filled with joy.
I knew exactly what to do and how to do it, how to get through solid matter. It
came to easily to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">It made me
happy to do this. Overwhelmingly happy. I went back to bed, back to my body in
my bed and the cat walked back to the foot of the bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I know I
fell back to sleep because I woke up remembering what had happened and knowing
how, but not believing in, my ability to walk through the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">What stayed
with me was an overwhelming feeling of love and the sense of belonging, of
wanting to be with people, listen to them, love them, join in with them. That
was entirely new.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">That day at
work I did join in more conversations and casual discussions and I know I was
smiling that day. Maybe not on my face, but inside I grinned from ear to ear
and I felt joy and happiness and wonder and such gratitude for life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">The joyous
desire to be with others and socialize didn't last very long. Within a day or
so I was back to my usual leave-me-alone-please self, but I remember how it
felt to not just want to belong, but to know how to do it, and to do it and to
feel I belonged. I remember the internal smile.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I remember
the feeling I had of knowing I could get through solid matter by simply opening
spaces in my body at the subatomic level. It's easy and simple and everyone can
do it, I remember.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">But I no
longer remember how to do it, and the core sureness of it is gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">#</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;">I've had a lifetime of interesting occurrences and I've been writing about them. From time to time I will post about them.<br />They cover a fairly wide variety of experiences and some are difficult to speak about. That tells me it is important to do so. I am convinced more people have these sort of off-normal experiences than are willing to say so publicly. In fact, I expect there are so many that they should be considered normal.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-CA" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-CA;"><br /></span></div>
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-86592980607672104592018-09-03T14:52:00.000-06:002018-09-03T14:52:33.906-06:00Gratitude Monday -Cornography EditionHusband grew some Hopi corn this season. When frost threatened yesterday he had to bring it in even though it belonged in the field a bit longer.<br />
<br />
However, we got corn out of it and that included a cob that was mature, and for it I am grateful.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll-1VKCmA40GAxUhvleJK_cUAJWLl2llh4wmghrxP0e5YiKpjvofEy6DB-g_XcvYuWyvlJ-tpiHFviGICGarw_DMBzhECJ4u2tPCrcEsVWviKcsYnMb6WDYk4GDWGo1Qf6T4HYx40uDg/s1600/HopiBlue+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll-1VKCmA40GAxUhvleJK_cUAJWLl2llh4wmghrxP0e5YiKpjvofEy6DB-g_XcvYuWyvlJ-tpiHFviGICGarw_DMBzhECJ4u2tPCrcEsVWviKcsYnMb6WDYk4GDWGo1Qf6T4HYx40uDg/s400/HopiBlue+003.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With its field mates.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGwSSEIZnPKiH2WbUflvJl26BLp0u08lPV6oSq6KeLmerXRaTPm9IQOkBUoH23iynpRz255IXjwuKmVYKGlCOwVS_VGJ76bx4hpsJNLi7xDuUzAOZUvhe3s2KGWPPivQJJPsglsFkGIw/s1600/HopiBlue+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGwSSEIZnPKiH2WbUflvJl26BLp0u08lPV6oSq6KeLmerXRaTPm9IQOkBUoH23iynpRz255IXjwuKmVYKGlCOwVS_VGJ76bx4hpsJNLi7xDuUzAOZUvhe3s2KGWPPivQJJPsglsFkGIw/s400/HopiBlue+005.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A closer look.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvGvBy2E-crsTJ_7-R2H3KYCGAzPxoM-vbQ6F-L4ZnYRPcU5ytAUreB-dxabpst_vcjwTkCvlWYMfoDLXkRIgt9rvVzSf8yt5iMGk1jrnUiOobSnGZ2Ai8CB2j34e_av8dhoHi2nV0qM/s1600/HopiBlue+012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdvGvBy2E-crsTJ_7-R2H3KYCGAzPxoM-vbQ6F-L4ZnYRPcU5ytAUreB-dxabpst_vcjwTkCvlWYMfoDLXkRIgt9rvVzSf8yt5iMGk1jrnUiOobSnGZ2Ai8CB2j34e_av8dhoHi2nV0qM/s640/HopiBlue+012.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Cornfather.</td></tr>
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-77950558360603940832018-06-11T00:30:00.000-06:002018-06-10T15:51:06.760-06:00Gratitude Monday - It Never Ends EditionI am grateful all the time. Every day brings something for which one can be thankful for even if it is the simple act of waking up to another day of being alive.<br />
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With that I am calling an end to the weekly gratitude posts. I will still write about gratitude, but it won't necessarily be on Mondays.<br />
It may not be every week.<br />
It could be any day of the week.<br />
<br />
I've enjoyed sharing my gratitude with you.<br />
I am grateful to you for reading them.<br />
I am grateful I have always found things to be grateful for.<br />
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It's been great.<br />
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Thanks.Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-65765486973083959092018-06-04T00:30:00.000-06:002018-06-04T00:30:05.047-06:00Gratitude Monday -- Picture This EditionI am so grateful I was able to capture this photo:<br />
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-29600893139554469922018-05-28T00:30:00.000-06:002018-05-28T00:30:07.738-06:00Gratitude Monday - The State of the Butt EditionIt's all good and for it I am grateful.<br />
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In specific, I had a colonoscopy last Tuesday and nothing was found that wasn't supposed to be there.<br />
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It's been four years since I was diagnosed with colon cancer. This was my second follow up scoping and am good for another five years.<br />
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I am pleased to report all is well.<br />
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You'll recall what I asked of you four years ago and I am going to ask it again, this time in celebration.<br />
If you've a mind to and a moment to do it either pour a glass of your favourite libation and raise it or simply pump a clenched fist in the air and say, "Cancer, my ass!"<br />
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Thank you.<br />
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-23415621381882565822018-05-21T00:30:00.000-06:002018-05-21T00:30:12.976-06:00Gratitude Monday -- The Harlech Unicorn EditionI finally got a proper photo of the wild stallion who grazes out by Harlech and for it I am grateful. For non-locals that's west of Rocky nearing Nordegg on Highway 11.<br />
He was with two others Saturday as we were on our way to the mountains.<br />
The stallion was kind enough keep eating as I took his picture and to walk slowly past the car.<br />
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I am convinced this stallion is a unicorn. While I haven't seen his horn I can sense it. There's no question in my mind it is there.<br />
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What do you say?<br />
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-5082385601289743072018-05-14T00:30:00.000-06:002018-05-14T00:30:09.966-06:00Gratitude Monday - Winds Of No Change EditionYesterday I spent just the right amount of time outdoors.<br />
The day was hot, sunny, blue, and quiet, as the best Sundays are and for it I am grateful.<br />
I got a bit of work done, too, but most of my time was spent sitting and listening to the wind.<br />
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It was relaxing and that's great, but it also spoke to me in a new way. It made me think about how nothing in life is permanent and that led me to consider the material possessions I have and what will come of them.<br />
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A few might be taken by family, assuming I outlive the ones who would take anything. And then I thought about my pictures. I have thousands in hard copy and that again in digital.<br />
They are great to have, but they ultimately serve no purpose.<br />
Yes, I know, old photos go to museums and history books, but that is only a few. The rest?<br />
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The wind blew and told me everything blows away with it. In the end there will still be winds blowing over the earth when I, and all I own, are long gone.<br />
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I am grateful to have the possessions left to me by family, but they don't mean anything to anyone else, and as I get older and see things differently, having them means less to me.<br />
It is the possession of the material object that loses meaning, not the love and energy of what the objects represent.<br />
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I am nowhere near ready to get rid of these possessions. I will someday, and it will hurt to see them go, but the memories stay. They are what is important and they are permanent for as much as mental energy can be permanent.<br />
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So possessions can come and go with the wind, but the wind will always be, and for all of this I am grateful<br />
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-22336995949876490752018-05-07T06:32:00.000-06:002018-05-07T06:32:06.440-06:00Gratitude Monday -- No Choice EditionSpring is in full swing.<br />
We had a wonderful weekend with friends.<br />
The weather has been gorgeous.<br />
The leaves are coming out.<br />
And those are just off the top of my head.<br />
It's the kind of time where everything is wonderful and picking anyone one thing for which to be grateful seems unfair to everything else.<br />
Therefore I refuse to choose.<br />
I am grateful for it all.<br />
<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-55920903438235584122018-04-30T00:00:00.000-06:002018-04-30T00:00:14.108-06:00Gratitude Monday - Look At it This Way EditionI have a lot to whine about. If given a few minutes I can find even more things worthy of my complaining.<br />
For instance, I had some invasive dental surgery the other day. It involved opening the gums and cleaning out around the implants.<br />
There are sutures.<br />
I had a bone graft to shore up some bone loss.<br />
I can't bite or chew with my front teeth for six weeks.<br />
The above is just off the top of my head, as it were.<br />
But you know what?<br />
I had chronic implantitis that had improved and then steadily worsened. The flap procedure I had done took care of it. I can eat anything I want as long as I am careful. It means bite-sized pieces and nothing chewy.<br />
That does not matter.<br />
I feel healthier already.<br />
I had to go to Edmonton for it. My husband took the day off to come with me and do the driving. This was wonderful.<br />
I did not know I would require this procedure and certainly hadn't expected to have it right then and there.<br />
I did. This means no second appointment unless my dentists is reluctant to remove the sutures.<br />
The procedure was done right away, my husband took care of getting my prescriptions filled, and there's a possibility that his company insurance will take care of at least some of the cost.<br />
It was an expensive procedure, more than $1,000.<br />
If I wanted to complain about the cost I certainly could.<br />
Why would I when it solves the issue and I don't have to worry about bone loss?<br />
My point is everyone has things to whine and complain about. It's easy. And the more we do the more negativity we can find. The world will happily throw it at our feet.<br />
Rather than dwell on the negative why not take the issue, flip it over and tickle its tummy and see the good in it?<br />
I do, and for it I am grateful.<br />
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1892083748555571767.post-20041477279340875292018-04-23T00:30:00.000-06:002018-04-23T00:30:30.599-06:00Gratitude Monday - Finally EditionEvidence spring is finally here.<br />
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<br />Leah J. Utashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08497599109798015888noreply@blogger.com3