Category Archives: philosophy
I have no time, anymore
To sit and watch the Earth turn,
Sending the Sun to sleep.
I have no time, anymore
To stand at lands end
and have the smiling sea
lap at my feet. Continue reading
We humans are amazing creatures. We have the most complex and advanced computer system on the planet—our mind. Yet most of the time, we simply ignore it or take it for granted.
Often, because of our complex mind, we find ourselves scattered, confused, rebellious, in doubt, depressed, fuzzy, frustrated, or fearful. At other times, our mind lets us be alert, confident, steady, focused, creative, and clear. However, most of the time we are simply jumping from one state to another, like channel surfing on the TV. Continue reading
We had been together for a few years when he started Beverly Hills Magazine. I wrote the astrology column, and a few articles, but for the most part, I was the receptionist and the “bosses girlfriend.” I didn’t care that the other employees talked about me behind my back and probably said nasty, jealousy things, I was having an amazing time in the world of Hollywood. Stars, celebrities, fancy parties, and more! I couldn’t get enough. Continue reading
One day, I decided enough was enough. The world was passing me by. Shortly after watching the first moon landing on Rick’s aunt’s flickery black-and-white TV, I vowed to “Get outta here and into the action.” It was a time of war protests, riots in Berkeley. People demanding to be heard!
I bought a bus ticket to Frisco, and was on my way. To what? I didn’t know or care. Something would turn up. It did. When I got off at the station, a sylph-like young woman with frizzy blond hair and gauzy, gypsy-esque clothing, handed me a flower and said, “Peace and Love.” I was supposed to give her money but instead, I said, “I want to join the cause.” She looked surprised, then grinned with perfectly straight white teeth that set off her natural, no make-up beauty. I was entranced. I wanted to be her. Yeah, right. Like I could EVER be like that.
One morning a few months back, my mother summoned me outside—where she fed every stray cat on the planet. At her feet was a scrawny, little orange and white kitten, meowing loudly between gulping down the food my mother had dutifully placed on a paper plate under the lime tree. When the food was gone, the pitiful little creature rubbed soulfully against our ankles, then looked up at us with huge, jewel eyes, pleading with yet another heart wrenching meow. You know, the kind that is partly silent and partly cracked with the angst of misery. Continue reading