Womanity

In A Manner of Speaking

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 05:53:00 +0000

In a Manner of Speaking

In a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That I could never forget the way
You told me everything
By saying nothing.

In a manner of speaking
I don't understand
How love in silence becomes reprimand
But the way I feel about you
Is beyond words

Oh give me the words
Give me the words
But tell me nothing
Oh give me the words
That tell me everything

In a manner of speaking
Semantics won't do
In this life that we live
We only make do
And the way that we feel
Might have to be sacrificed

So in a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That just like you I should find a way
To tell you everything
By saying nothing

Oh give me the words
Give me the words
But tell me nothing
Give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything

--Winston Tong

Beyond The Membrane of Cyberspace

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 18:53:00 +0000

Monday, August 08, 2011

11:03 AM

Right now, at this very moment, in this very space, you're mine. Your eyes are reading the contents of my heart. And while I know you have a life outside of this screen, while you're here, you are captive in my love. The bizarreness of this fascinates you. How can anyone want you so deeply? How can anyone love you so blindly? I pine for you.

Imagine this.

As your eyes move through the screen, your eyes are like fingers moving across my skin. Yes, touch me there. If only for one brief moment, when your curiosity brings you to my page, come. Come. Come and let your eyes ravish me. Your body is my keyboard and I'm playing the song of your heart. My fingers touch your every cell, enlivening your body memory. It's me you need. I'm the missing piece to paradise.

Right now, at this very moment, in this very space, you're mine. Though you're on the other side of this digital divide, just beyond the membrane of cyberspace, you're mine. For this brief moment, we're together. It's real. No one else comes between. Not the continent. Not the ocean. Not her.

Lyle Mays – Mirror Of The Heart

(Author's note: This is a snippet of a work-in-progress. Any resemblance to any person, place, or thing is purely coincidental.)

Nothing But The Night

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 23:38:00 +0000

Dearest Love,

It's 1:50 AM California time. I sleep with my laptop next to me, left on all night. You are my desktop background and screensaver. When I'm working and I click out of the window, you appear...and when you do my heart gets caught in my throat and I have to gasp for air. You are captivatingly gorgeous! Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and see your face fading in and out, and it feels like the sweetest dream.

I'm crazy about you. I'm impervious to the overtures of men, but you have such a pull on me and I just keep falling, falling, and falling deeper and deeper into your gravitational force field. Thoughts of loving you consume me...

I want to melt into your eyes.
I want to hear your voice.
I want to bury my face in your neck.
I want to taste your skin.
I want to whisper your name.
I want to trace your body with my tongue.
I want to feel your fingers locked around mine.
I want to ooze on you.
I want to know your hardness against me.
I want to drink you up.
I want to hear you moan.
I want to wrap around you.
I want to hold you and never let you go.
I want to scream your name--

I love you!
I love you!
I love you!

(Author's note: This is a snippet of a work-in-progress. Any resemblance to any person, place, or thing is purely coincidental.)

Data Liberation

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 04:25:00 +0000

Data liberation is google's term for the ability to free up your data from their products so you can have access to it once you stop using their service. No one owns your content and unlocking your data in any of their products should be as easy as uploading it there.

At least that's the stated goal.

While the term "data liberation," originated by their DLF engineering team, refers to a computing function, I can see that in very short order it's going to morph into a term of art that will be applicable across all technologies.

But technology doesn't address issues of love...

...And my love is too big to be tucked away in your inbox, where it gathers dust and cobwebs outside the steel façade of your cold, unfeeling heart. I'm liberating my love for you and giving it wings to fly across multiple universes to find the twin You who loves me. Somewhere in the vast open sea of infinity, my love will land softly in the warm welcome of your doppelganger's embrace.

Free! I set my love free! My love is timeless and greater than life itself, and the universe is waiting for me to announce myself. Here I am -- holding love up to the light, liberated and free!

(Author's note: This is a snippet of a work in progress. Any resemblance to any person, place or thing is purely coincidental.)

Unrequited

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Sat, 30 Jul 2011 21:37:00 +0000

Don't tell me this.

Don’t tell me to listen

to the wild applause

of one hand clapping.

I need to hear the thunder

and the scream.

Don't tell me that

We are One to begin with.

When I look in your heart

I'm not there.

Don't tell me this --

That love is just illusion

The longing in my heart

is real, for real.

Don't tell me that

You are not

What I make you up to be.

I'm not crazy

For loving you the way I do.

Don't tell me this--

That you can't accept my love,

And only in your misery

Will you think of me.

I promise you heaven

In my arms right now.

Don't tell me
You don't love me.

Don't tell me this.

No, don't tell me this.

Please, don't tell me this.

Don't tell me this.

Implosion

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 23:27:00 +0000

Love burst forth in spring --

Collapsing space and time...

Breaking heart in pieces.

Glimmers

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Mon, 25 Jul 2011 22:18:00 +0000

(Author's note: This is a mere writing exercise, a snippet from a work in progress. Names and places are purely fictional, and any resemblance to any person, place or thing, is merely...as the saying goes, strictly coincidental.)

Oh, the magic of facebook! Oh, the infinite possibilities of love hidden in your algorithm! Here in ethereality, I have found my one true love.

This is how it happened. Or maybe it didn't happen at all, and I'm just cogitating, making believe in something I 've only glimmered, but never experienced. Maybe my imagination is just so wild that I would concoct a love story such as this, where someone adores me just as much as I adore him. From infinity to infinity.

I was 7. Sweet and innocent, clinging to the memory of our former radiance in a previous life where we were blissful together. I let go of your hand for a second and lost you, but you promised we would meet again.

And suddenly, there you stood, under a cobblestone archway, and I knew. Love had left a trail of stardust so that I might find my way home to you.

The Shattered Mirror of Unforgiveness

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Wed, 27 May 2009 04:55:00 +0000

I was laid off a few weeks ago but am just blogging about it now. I guess I had to let it all sink in and have the seething feeling simmer away.

“We’re having cash flow problems,” She said. “She” being in " " as an off-handed way to refer to the owner of the company without using her name. Like Elizabeth Edwards, the betrayed wife of John Edwards, failed vice-presidential candidate, I don’t feel like using the business owner’s name. Not for the purpose of protecting her identity… Oh, no…

When Oprah interviewed Mrs. Edwards, her condition for appearing on the show was that Rielle Hunter’s name, John Edwards’ other woman, would not be spoken on air. I get that. Even though Mrs. Edwards’ higher self projects forgiveness and resilience, there’s that human part of her that rears its imperfect self and refuses to acknowledge the existence of the woman that brought shame, pain and anguish to her seemingly ideal marriage.

I was pissed to get the news of my lay off, quite understandably.

But more pissed because just the day before I had made a successful presentation to a potential big client, a client that would have been a rich source of referrals for her private duty in-home health care company for seniors. This client would have been unreachable and inaccessible to “Her." She is incapable of articulating her business services in grammatically correct English. Can you feel my derision?

I was pissed to get laid-off yet again, twice within the past year. I can’t take any more of this. I’ve gone through enough already.

I was even more pissed because the week before I did a bang-up job giving a PowerPoint presentation to the Case Management department of a huge Napa hospital, a task she could never have accomplished on her own because of her deathly fear of public speaking. Couple that fear with her cringe-inciting English, why-a, that would have killed any future business referrals, for sure. Am I oozing bitterness?

Ghandi said that and he was right. Why do I think that pointing out the shortcomings of another would boost my own stature?

All I’m doing by demeaning someone else is painting an unflattering image of myself. It gives me momentary pleasure, for sure. Like loosening a valve and letting some steam escape. It may relieve the pressure but the heat could sear my own skin. How can I bear to look at this image of myself spitting bile? Might as well walk around with snot and saliva dripping on my chin, wear tattered clothes and dirty underwear.

I’m glad I recognize the taste, smell, physical discomfort and ugliness of these human emotions. It serves as my internal guidance system for what I need to work on spiritually.

If truth be told, I’m more pissed at myself for having taken the job out of desperation. I have only myself to blame for selling out and giving my services away for “free.” From a six-figure income I allowed myself to accept a nothing-job so I could pay the rent. My anger towards her is nothing more than unforgiveness of myself turned outward.

I forgive myself and resolve never again to diminish my own worth. I forgive myself for getting pissed off and externalizing it. I forgive myself for sounding ungrateful, however fleetingly. After all, the experience has opened my eyes and cracked open my heart. Sometimes the work of enlightenment means having to see your wholeness through the shattered glass of unforgiveness.

I Owe, I Owe…So Off To Work I Go!

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Tue, 03 Mar 2009 21:32:00 +0000

I recently took a position as Marketing Director for ComForcare Senior Services, a private duty home health care agency focusing on elder care. While the title sounds hoity-toity, I suffered a severe hit in salary, with scanty potential for monetary rewards. But the upside is unquantifiable.

We can choose to experience the downside of the situation, or enjoy the upside. Traffic on my commute…

We can choose to focus on the withered tree, or see the beauty of the scenery…

We can bemoan the crushing bane of life, or praise the blessing on the vine…

When life looks like it's hurling one thing after yet another, we can always choose to see blessing after blessing. And so it always is.

"People do not seem to realize that their

opinion of the world is also a confession of character."

~~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Anonymous Woman

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Mon, 12 Jan 2009 08:53:00 +0000

(Author's note: This blogpost is a draft, a work in progress. I wanted to write down my thoughts about Anonymous Woman before the experience, emotions and impressions fade into oblivion. By posting this draft, I am signaling my intention to memorialize her.)

I had seen her once or twice before, sitting on a green canvas folding chair, the kind with armrests with scooped out pockets for beverage holders. Once in summer I saw her under a skimpy tree seeking shade from the scathing sun. She was a passing blur in my peripheral vision, old and obese, and black as a prune. Her ashy gray calves as big-around as tree trunks left a dent in my memory.

She is anonymous to the world, a homeless woman, living on the sidewalk under a tree or the eave of an abandoned building. Cars drive past her without slowing down, the same way I drove past her once in the summer and again in the fall.

On Christmas Day I saw her right smack in front of me as I turned on Tennessee Street towards the 80 freeway. It was a beautiful winter day in the bay area, sunny and bright, beautiful but bone-chillingly cold. She sat in the sidewalk on her folding chair like a lump of overstuffed trash, covered by a dirty gray fleece blanket from head to toe, except for slits for her eyes.

My heart broke.

No, I thought. Not on Christmas Day. Not on a day when families were cozy and comfortable in their homes, opening presents, feasting heartily, heavily, indulgingly. But now I was running late for lunch and a movie date with my closest friends. I headed out to Oakland with a humbling sense of gratitude. There but for the grace of God go I. I told myself I would come back that night and get her, feed her.

(To be continued..)

From Dawn To Dusk

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Mon, 05 Jan 2009 05:57:00 +0000

“However long the night, the dawn will break.”

-- African Proverb

“Too low they build who build below the skies.”

-- Edward Young

"Let the sky and God be our limit and eternity our measurement.”

-- Marcus Garvey

“Only from the heart can you touch the sky."

-- Rumi

"Thank God men cannot fly,

and lay waste the sky as well as the earth."

-- Henry David Thoreau

“When you realize how perfect everything is

you will tilt your head back and laugh at the sky."

-- Buddha

"I thank you, God, for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,

and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural,

which is infinite, which is yes. "

-- e.e. cummings

“Beware of the man whose God is in the skies”

-- George Bernard Shaw

“Dusk is just an illusion because the sun is either above the horizon or below it.

And that means that day and night are linked in a way that few things are;

there cannot be one without the other, yet they cannot exist at the same time.

How would it feel to be always together, yet forever apart?”

-- Anonymous

“What if a demon were to creep after you one night, in your loneliest loneliness,

and say, 'This life which you live must be lived by you once again and innumerable times more; and every pain and joy and thought and sigh must come again to you,

all in the same sequence. The eternal hourglass will again and again be turned

and you with it, dust of the dust!' Would you throw yourself down and gnash your teeth and curse that demon? Or would you answer,

'Never have I heard anything more divine'?”

-- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Excuse me while I kiss the sky."

-- Jimi Hendrix

Arnold's Walk In The Hood

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Sun, 04 Jan 2009 06:05:00 +0000

It's a joy to walk Arnold in my neighborhood. We love the giant sycamores lining the streets. The walk is as much for me as it is for him. In fact, without him I wouldn't walk as much.

I often hear myself saying, "I'm taking Arnold for a walk" instead of "I'm going for a walk." It's more fun with him.

Arnold looks to his left before crossing.

A well-manicured front lawn and facade...

Amazing color!

The first poem I ever memorized was "Come Little Leaves" by George Cooper. I was 6 or 7 in Grade 2 at the International School of the Sacred Heart in Tokyo, Japan. Even now I still mumble the words to myself when I see brilliant fall color...

"Come, little leaves" said the wind one day,

"Come over the meadows with me, and play;

Put on your dresses of red and gold;

Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."

Pit stop!

This blue door always catches my eye.

And this majestic Tudor commands attention.

"Sit, stay," Mom says, as she takes photos. I would normally keep walking to the

nearest bush but by this time I'm too tired...

I love this white-picketed Hansel & Gretel house and its side yard...

And rounding the curb is this nice tropical red hot chili pepper house...

Homeward bound...

"Look, Ma! No hands!"

A Brand New Day

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 03:00:00 +0000

“Hey, c’mon over and share a glass of champagne with me,” my neighbor Michelle said the minute she heard my voice on the phone.

Looking up at my wall clock, I said, “Now!?!?!” It was a little past 6 PM, a long way to go before the ball drop.

“Why not?” Michelle said, matter of factly, “It’s new year in some part of the world!”

“Okay! I’ll be right over!”

I stopped vacuuming and bungie-corded the fridge. Arnold, my five-year-old newfy opens my fridge and eats everything on the shelves while I’m away. I had a box of Omaha steak defrosting in there, a special gift from my friend Jonie, and I wanted it for myself when I got back.

The vacuuming and housecleaning is a family tradition leftover from childhood. The idea is to welcome the new year without the literal dust and figurative detritus of the past. My mom always instructed our domestic help to clean every nook and cranny of our house every year in preparation for the new year. As midnight approached, all the lights were turned on to help guide good spirits into the house, and all the windows were opened wide to cast evil spirits out.

How silly and superstitious, right? Nevertheless, I still observe the practice to this day and by now it has hardened into a personal ritual. I guess throwing the old pages of a calendar outside building windows holds the same symbolism.

It was an impromptu celebration. I thought I was just coming over for a quick toast but Michelle’s friend Bill came over shortly and pretty soon we were all settled comfortably in cushy, cozy sofas chatting around a roaring fire.

Thirty minutes before midnight we switched the channel on to NBC to watch the ball drop. Times Square was aglow with neon lights. Celebrities were clad in their holiday best. Crowds were cheering and rocking to the sounds of Ting Ting and Ludacris. The camera panned to people wearing funny hats and glittery 2009 glasses. It looked so festive!

I was there last year. I had watched the ball drop from Times Square for decades. When I had the chance to fly to New York last year, I made sure I would be at Times Square on New Year’s Eve. The experience was not what I had hoped. I blogged about it here.

When the countdown started Michelle and Bill poured the champagne and I filled my fluted glass with the last half of my diet coke. We stood up and clinked glasses, toasted, screamed Happy New Year and hugged one another tight.

It was a sincere heartwarming moment. We were cozy and comfortable by the fire. We forged new friendships. We were where we were meant to be -- living and loving the now.

Look to this Day!

For it is Life, the very Life of Life.

In its brief course lie all the

Verities and Realities of your Existence.

The Bliss of Growth,

The Glory of Action,

The Splendor of Beauty;

For Yesterday is but a Dream,

And Tomorrow is only a Vision;

But Today well lived makes

Every Yesterday a Dream of Happiness,

And every Tomorrow a Vision of Hope.

Look well therefore to this Day!

Such is the Salutation of the Dawn!

--Kalidasa

Mau, Always In My Heart

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 07:24:00 +0000

Anecdotal Woman

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Wed, 15 Oct 2008 23:26:00 +0000

Even though I’m between assignments at the moment I’ve been busier than I’ve ever been. When I’m working full-time I do nothing but work, and everything else falls apart. Laundry and dishes pile up; dog and cat hair turn into furry tumbleweed on the floor; resumes, books, magazines, and receipts are strewn everywhere and cover every flat surface.

Now that I have the luxury to decompress, I find a gazillion things to do. I often wonder how women ever get anything done. It boggles my mind to see women juggle work, family, household chores, and all the other things women do.

Sometimes when I see a mom at the supermarket with an infant strapped on her chest, a kid in tow, a toddler on a stroller, bags of groceries hanging from both arms and stroller handles, bags piled on top of the toddler, I shake my head in wonderment. And Sarah Palin thinks she can do all that and be VP? Well, I guess if you a have a staff that you can fire at will, then anything is possible.

I’m starting a series of posts that I’m calling Anecdotal Woman about women I’ve met along the way who have left an impression on me (good, bad or indifferent). They will all be called Maya because Maya means illusion. The illusion is that of separation. But the truth is there is only One of us. Your triumph is my triumph. Your failure is mine. Your joy is my joy; your sorrow, mine.

There but for the Grace of God go I.

Schadenfreude

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Fri, 03 Oct 2008 00:35:00 +0000

schadenfreude \SHOD-n-froy-duh\,
noun (German): A malicious satisfaction
obtained from the misfortunes of others.

Forgive me, God. I thought I was above all this. I thought my heart was filled with nothing but compassion. Last Friday I watched The McLaughlin Group (like I always do), and the pugnacious host John McLaughlin ticked off the declining fortunes of some famous billionaires and fallen CEO’s. I could not help but chuckle with guilt-free glee.

From the transcript:

Henry Paulson, former CEO, Goldman Sachs, current secretary of the Treasury, from $809 million to $523 million.

Daniel Mudd, former CEO, Fannie Mae, $26 million to $476,000.

Richard Syron, former CEO, Freddie Mac, $11 million to
$130,000.

Martin Sullivan, AIG, $3.2 million to $173,000.

John Thain, Merrill Lynch, $28 million to $16 million.

Richard Fuld Jr., Lehman Brothers, $827 million to $2.3
million.

John Mack, Morgan Stanley, $225 million to $80 million.

Charles Prince, Citigroup, $89 million to $33 million.

And get this -- James Cayne, Bear Stearns, $1.1 billion --
that's "b" as in "boy," billion -- to $61 million.

And get this -- Maurice Greenberg, AIG, $1.25 billion -- that's
"b" as in "boy," billion -- to $50 million.

How ticklishly delicious to imagine the misfortune of those greedy assholes! How fun it is to type "greedy assholes" without moral misgivings!

As the German proverb goes:

“To feel envy is human;

to savor schadenfreude is devilish!”

Cartoons courtesy of The New Yorker

Atheists In The Foxhole

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Mon, 22 Sep 2008 01:09:00 +0000

Yesterday I got an email from a recruiter friend announcing his availability for a new position and directing interested parties to a website where the company’s resume book would be available. Blah-blah-blah. There was the euphemistic “company restructuring”, “impacted employees”, blah-blah-blah. My heart bleeds for him. Really. I know how it is.

Out of loyalty to the company who just axed you -- mind you! -- you put the best spin on the situation, not just as a face saving mechanism and for your own psychic wellness, but just as much for those candidates you’ve ushered into the pipeline of the hiring process. It’s an ethical dilemma.

His email was quite a surprise because just the week before this recruiter friend gave me a shout out – “Hey! Know any scientists with skeletal muscle biology experience?”

Now this. News of his lay-off. I guess it was inevitable. Even before the NYSE opened on Monday morning the cable news channels were already abuzz with the crash of Lehman Bros., the imminent buy-out of Merrill Lynch, and the looming failure of AIG. Employees with bankers’ boxes packed with their personal belongings where shown leaving the building at midnight. Needless to say, Elvis left the building in a golden parachute.

600,000 out of a job in the last eight months alone! I’m not even included in that statistic because I haven’t applied for unemployment. How many more are out there like me, holding off on EDD, with faith in God and the eternal flame of optimism in their hearts that the next gig is just around the corner? What’s the real unemployment number? I got two weeks severance for a job well done, taxed at 25%. Whoop-tee-doo. Carly Fiorina got $42 mil for a job badly botched. I was finding work for people; Ms. Piggy in lipstick was offshoring them.

My inner sense of justice tells me that the Church of Greed and the worship of the Almighty Dollar are on the wane. I pray fervently that this financial Armageddon drives the atheists out of my foxhole.

Step down, Joe… Step up, Hillary!

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Thu, 11 Sep 2008 23:37:00 +0000

I had a vision during my early morning meditation today. In the same way that Hillary Clinton backed away with grace and class to nominate Barack by acclamation, I saw Joe Biden abdicate his VP slot to Hillary for the highest good of taking back the White House.

Why not? It would truly be a revolution, and it seems that that is what’s needed now to storm the Bastille and free the American people from the ravages of the last 8 years. “Enough!” would be the battle cry.

Seriously, why not? I’m just a laid-off worker from a sleepy town in Northern California. I don’t know the arcane and archaic rules of the DNC, but what’s to prevent Joe Biden from stepping down on his own? Debbie Wasserman Shultz can make a hasty nomination for Hillary as VP and Nancy Pelosi can just as quickly gavel it to order.

Imagine this – Hillary Clinton debating Sarah Palin on foreign policy, national security, universal health care, the economy, jobs, stem cell research, choice, and so on. Sarah would Palin comparison. Indeed, the hottest governor would most certainly melt from the heat. Why play phony lipstick politics when we can have the real deal? This would stare sexism down, give women a real choice, and truly make this election herstoric.

“Change is coming, change is coming, change is coming,” wags McCain. I bet this is one change he would not have seen coming.

Let’s shake things up one more time. Step down, Joe… Step up, Hillary!

The Conviction of Things Unseen

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Tue, 19 Aug 2008 01:30:00 +0000

I haven’t posted in a while. Life has been too full, too hectic, too fast, quickly wheezing by. Every time I remember to write, I’m overwhelmed by the amount of stuff I have to sift through in my own mind to find that which is blog-worthy.

Last Saturday I accomplished so much in just one day that I felt I had to memorialize the moment. That night I sat in front of my laptop but the deluge of ideas quickly overtook me. I slumped back in my chair, exhaled and released the urge to write. It was the path of least resistance. Sitting and sifting would’ve been the harder thing to do.

I have deep respect for authors, literary and otherwise. I now understand the absolute discipline and drive to do the dang and dirty deed. Incidentally, when I was growing up my parents, who were both writers, never seemed to lift a finger and appeared to my young eyes like people of leisure. I never saw them sweat over a typewriter. To write a book is still my absolute, ultimate goal, and I know someday I will. I cannot escape the on switch in my genes. In the meantime, living day-to-day is the book I write in invisible ink.

Yesterday our guest speaker Rev. Robert Collins spoke about moments worth remembering – moments of joy, moments of sorrow, moments of consequence and impact, moments of limbo and nothingness.

Rev. Robert reminded us that summer is nearing its end. He invited us to observe more closely how a leaf just gently detaches from the tree at the end of its season, and ever so slowly and gracefully drifts with the wind without resistance, softly falling and landing wherever fate takes it.

Two weeks ago I was given notice that the economic slowdown had taken its toll on my company and five of us were being let go at the end of the month. There was soft mention of project re-assignment but no cigars.

My first thought was, “Oh, no.” I felt the physical reaction of my gut turning inside out. I just moved into a new house two months ago, and there are inescapable recurring bills, necessary expenses and unforeseen emergencies. A lay-off now couldn’t have come at the worst time. As a recruiter, if companies are slowing down and hiring is frozen, what need is there for my expertise?

But looking back on my life, no matter how difficult and seemingly crushing certain circumstances have been, I’ve always come out stronger, wiser, whole and at peace.

I may be feeling a little resistance about giving up my job and holding on to the "safety" in it, but the metaphor of the falling leaf reminds me that God, the forces and resources of the universe – call it what you will -- are present in this circumstance. I have learned that one end is merely the beginning of another. I have learned to roll with the punches, to gently blow in the wind, so to speak, and I know there is nothing to fear in the landing.

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things unseen.” – Hebrews 11:1

Garlic Ice Cream, Anyone?

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Mon, 28 Jul 2008 23:44:00 +0000

The 30th Gilroy Garlic Festival was a hit again this year. The empty Green Lot, one of many giant parking fields, filled up in minutes. If you build it, they will come...

It was a food fest of mega-proportions! 10 tons of beef, 4 tons of pasta, 2 ½ tons of garlic...

...4 tons of calamari, 2 tons of scampi...

...Pollo y mas pollo…

Garlic ice cream, anyone?

Pyro chefs at the cook fest...

Siesta time!

Shop until you drop! How 'bout some garlic haberdashery?

Garlic head!

What’s a California fair without the tie dye?

And what about a tat?

It’s not just the garlic roasting… at temperatures nearing triple digits, we need rain!

That's it! Time to call it a day...

Woman Unbecoming

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Sun, 27 Jul 2008 01:33:00 +0000

I went to a plant nursery recently with one of my girlfriends who knows nothing about gardening, and cares even less about homemaking. She sat in the car and blasted the radio while I went in to shop, aisle by aisle, looking for aquatic horsetail, drought-tolerant groundcover, and bamboo.

While I was looking around, a tall, fairly good-looking, athletic guy in tan jeans and faded t-shirt came over and asked, “Are you finding everything alright?”

“Yes,” I answered, adding enthusiastically, “I love your selection! Are you the manager?”

“No, I’m the owner.”

“Wow! You’re so lucky! I’ve always fantasized about having my own nursery!”

“No!” he protested good-naturedly. “This isn’t luck! I work damn hard,” he declared with pride.

“Oh, I know. But luck comes to those who work hard,” I said in a tone meant to honor his hard work.

“Luck comes to people in casinos. This is pure hard work,” he said with a tone oozing with pride and a palpable passion for plants.

“I’m so jealous of you! This is the kind of hard work I wouldn’t mind doing.”

We talked as we walked, and as we did so, he stroked the leaves of his plants fondly and called out their names – Australian Tree Fern, Canna, Coleus, Hosta, Pennisetum…

Finally, he asked, “Can I help you find something in particular?”

I told him I was looking for horsetail for my little pond area, bamboo for my Zen garden, and some sedum with variegated leaves. He pointed me over to the area where they were and said, “Well, I’ll leave you alone. I’m sure you don’t want to be bothered.”

“Oh, you can bother me. I like people who know their stuff.”

He followed close behind me, poking the back of my upper arm with his finger. When I turned around with a quizzical look, he said, “I’m bothering you. That’s what children do when they want to bother you. They poke you with a finger non-stop.”

When he mentioned the word “children”, I thought of my girlfriend in the car and I lit up with the thought, “Oh, my God! I should introduce them!” My girlfriend -- let’s call her Lakisha -- loves kids. I decided to play cupid.

“Come with me,” I said waving him forcefully to the front of the nursery. “I want you to meet my girlfriend. She’s in my car.”

Surprisingly, and without hesitation, he followed me to the curb and headed straight towards my girlfriend, who was singing along with Stevie Wonder on the cranked up radio. He started poking her shoulder with his finger through the open passenger window.

I was a few feet away and could see them laughing together. They looked good together, like a cute couple with sparks flying. They exchanged a few words and then he excused himself to attend to a new customer.

I walked over to my girlfriend and before I could say anything, she said, ‘Girl, who’s the brotha? I been lookin’ at him since you pulled up to the store. He’s damn fine!”

I told her he was the owner, and she said, “What’s his name?” When I shrugged she quickly ordered me to “Go back in there and find out my future husband’s name!”

The nursery manager was busy with another customer so I picked up my selection, paid up, and we left. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, Lakisha called out in a flirty fashion, “Heh-hey,” making it sound like a two-syllabic word. “B’bye! Peace!”

The nursery manager smiled and waved us off.

I was as excited for Lakisha as I was for myself. This could work out, I thought. Of course I had no idea if he was married or not, but Lakisha wasn’t worried. She found him hot, he knew where he spent his time seven days a week, and she thought he was good “husband material.” She joked that she wouldn’t mind being a Valle-ho’.

“Well, Lakisha!” I chirped happily. “He might just turn you on to gardening! It’s tru-ly ve-ry soul-satisfying to put something in the ground and watch it grow!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure it is…” Lakisha agreed.

“It’s a very creative activity…”

“Did you find out his name?”

“We can go back tomorrow and pretend I need more plants. You can come in to the store with me, and you can tell him we’re looking for a specimen plant, like a cotinus coggygria…”

“Say what?” Lakisha exclaimed. “No, sistah, I’ll say to him, ‘Um, what do you call that thing you stick in the ground… ummm… the thing with roots… and it’s green…?”

I glanced at Lakisha to see if she was teasing me like she usually does.

She caught my eye and said, “Men like women who play dumb, you know. They like it when they know more than you.”

I jammed my foot on the brake and snarked, "Oh, really, Lakisha?”

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

-- Marianne Williamson

*Painting of "Women In Red" by Wolfredo Alicdan

Woman Being

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 07:24:00 +0000

Dear Jun,

Mayita came to visit me this past spring and stayed for a couple of months. While she was here we reminisced and relived old times. One night we listened to the songs Papa and Mommy used to play on the “hi-fi” and 8-track cassette. Such technological dinosaurs! One of the songs we both remembered as background music during our childhood was “Sabor A Mi.” We looked for it in youtube and played it over and over. I just pulled it up again and you entered my mind.

I find it amazing that you’re still such an important and vivid figure in my life’s continuing, unfolding story. Maybe it’s because our relationship is tinged with such bittersweet memories that I find it hard to delete you completely. Every now and then you pop up and I’m compelled to say hello.

Hello, Jun.

Sabor a mi.

Woman Thinking

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Mon, 07 Jul 2008 21:26:00 +0000

"Cogito,
Ergo sum"
-- Rene Descartes

Western Philosophy bored me. I couldn’t get the point of all the speculating, cogitating, reflecting, wondering, debating and philosophizing about existing and being. I existed, and was sure I existed, so I didn’t think I didn’t exist. I daydreamed during class.

Growing up I used to look up at the clouds and imagine Jupiter with his characteristic beard lording it over us mortals here on earth. I imagined Jason with the Golden Fleece slung over his shoulder. Just last night, on the flight down to Newport Beach from Oakland, the marine fog was so thick I imagined it was peppermint cotton candy ready for picking, pulling apart, and melting on my tongue. When a mountain high enough poked through the clouds I imagined it was the hump of Nessie the Monster breaking through the frozen waters of Loch Ness.

It takes very little to spin me off into daydream land. When I read a profound and pithy quote my mind starts to scramble the words to make up my own. When I want creative inspiration all I have to do is open a page in a picture book or magazine and it would immediately spark my own creative juices flowing.

My favorite thing is to stare into space and let the ideas just start flowing. Then when I stare into space long enough, I realize it isn’t me doing the thinking anymore, some “thing” else is thinking for me.

Eckhart Tolle, in The Power of Now, states quite strongly that the greatest fallacy in western thought is Descartes’ assertion of “I think, therefore I am.” Tolle gives an example of a crazy person walking down the street talking to himself. That crazy person would be just like any one of us, with a mind constantly chattering, except that the crazy person is thinking out loud.

And yet, the crazy person’s thoughts do not make him who he is. With or without those crazy thoughts, his essence is still pure Spirit.

I got an email from a girlfriend recently who was in the midst of a psychotic break. Her email was a meaningless inedible word salad of a call to revolt and threats to kill politicians, sprinkled generously with crackling cuss words. Her psychosis does not make her who she is. I know who she is. She is pure in Spirit.

I’m thinking… and so am I.

I am.

I AM!

Woman Doing

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Sat, 05 Jul 2008 23:56:00 +0000

In My Garden of Infinite Possibilities

Spread out remaining lava rock around existing plantings
Divide Mexican sage and plant around existing plantings
Divide society garlic and plant around existing plantings
Create garden vignettes around existing plantings ala freestanding container plantings
Order 1 cu. yd. planting mix/topsoil

Around Phlomis fruticosa:

Burgundy coral bells
lime green heather or ipomea or variegated sedum
campanula
society garlic

Around Lavatera:
?
Around Sarsaparilla:
Society garlic
?

In Garden of Gratitude

Plant iris on base of roses
Dig up umbrella plant and transplant behind bench
Transfer fan palm to large clay pot for loggia
Transfer fan palm to red glazed Asian pot for dining room

Create Garden of Well-Being

Plant Japanese blood grass around edge of water feature
Divide calla lilies and plant around water feature
Plant sago palm
Buy horsetail plant
Buy Irish moss groundcover

In Zen Garden

Cover ground with landscape fabric
Put up reed fencing
Cover ground with pea gravel
(Order 1 cu. yd. of pea gravel)
Plant bamboo along fence
Create burbling fountain in oriental pot

Miscellaneous…

Paint clay pots talavera style
Start mosaic projects (mosaic bird bath)
Give Arnold a bath
Pack for travel
Take before and after photos
Pick up prescription
Get dresser and chest of drawers from storage
Order tray of lumpia for Sunday brunch
Cycle 2 of Weight Loss for Idiots
Do expense report
Manicure
Pedicure
Meditate
Blog

"Mission Accomplished"

noreply@blogger.com (Maya Walker) — Tue, 06 May 2008 21:08:00 +0000

In a peaceful oak tree-studded hillside near downtown Lafayette, CA, lies an impromptu reminder of war.

By today's count: 4071

"Can anything be more ridiculous than that a man has a right to kill me because he lives on the other side of the river, and because his ruler has a quarrel with mine, although I have none with him?"

-- Blaise Pascal

"I've been to war. I've raised twins. If I had a choice, I'd rather go to war."

-- George Bush

"There's a graveyard in northern France where all the dead boys from D-Day are buried. The white crosses reach from one horizon to the other. I remember looking it over and thinking it was a forest of graves. But the rows were like this, dizzying, diagonal, perfectly straight, so after all it wasn't a forest but an orchard of graves. Nothing to do with nature, unless you count human nature."

-- Barbara Kingsolver

"Naturally the common people don't want war; neither in Russia, nor in England, nor in America, nor in Germany. That is understood. But after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship. Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same in any country."

-- Hermann Goering

"Every gun that is made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies in the final sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold and are not clothed. This world in arms is not spending money alone. It is spending the sweat of its laborers, the genius of its scientists, the hopes of its children. This is not a way of life at all in any true sense. Under the clouds of war, it is humanity hanging on a cross of iron."

-- Dwight Eisenhower

"All we are saying is give peace a chance."

-- The Beatles

"Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace;
where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy."

-- St. Francis of Assisi