My Father was a World War II Marine. He is not my biological father,
but he is my Dad. He raised me and he raised me well. He taught me
about pride, how to stand up for myself, he taught me when to sit back
and be silent. He told me that I was still wet behind the ears and I still am. He called himself a jarheadand taught me about Semper Fi.
When you think about crime, and active duty and war and all the crazy
things that can happen to you, you never think that someone who is in
the military is going to be taken by cancer.
When I was 15
years old, cancer took my Father home. Being 15, that is a messed up
time for anyone, you are confused about everything and no one tells you
anything.
My memory is acute. I recall when I was a baby
and around 2 years old, yet the day of my Father's funeral, I have no
memory. It is funny how the mind works because it protects you from
things that may otherwise be disturbing.
I recall clear as
day my family in the limousine driving to the cemetery. It was a
beautiful, sunny November and just like a knife cutting bread, WAP! No memory, nothing, gone. I had to ask my Mother did they do a gun salute, did they perform TAPS, did
they fold the military flag on his coffin, did they hand over the flag
all neatly folded in a triangle? She had to tell me all of that. I have
no remembrance.
The years of illness before my Father was diagnosed with multiple myeloma
(bone marrow cancer) and the chemotherapy treatments to follow, was
devastating. My Father, an over 6 foot healthy, muscled Marine turned
into a shell of his former physical self. Once he was admitted, I was
not allowed in the hospital because I was too young. At the time, you
had to be 16 years or older to get into ICU, the Intensive Care Unit,
where he was being kept comfortable.
I never saw my Father before he died.
Several years ago, I flew to Washington, DC to see Bob Dylan and
also ended up going to Arlington. It was a pilgrimage. Have you ever
been compelled to do something and have no idea why you wrote a letter,
got in your car and went to someone's house or made a phone call or sent
an email? It is your instinct telling you that you need to do this
right now.
I said to my friend that I was visiting, we need to go to Arlington. If you have never been to Arlington,
you must go. My entire chest caved in. We had to stop so many times
inside Arlington because I literally could not breathe. Arlington is a
mirror of life itself. There is all of this death, and alongside of
that, all of this life. There are birds and gardens, fountains and
trees. Everything is alive and some of the grave markers are beautiful.
Arlington is life and death existing together.
I sawIwo Jima.
I thought it would be a small sculpture. Iwo Jima is at least three
stories high and bigger than a school. When I walked upon this
sculpture, I felt so tiny to life, to the entire universe. I was
circling and circling this bronze, immense, mammoth sculpture and looked
up at it and thought, That's my Father, that is my Father.
It is a long walk from Arlington to Iwo Jima. The entire walk back, I
do not even know what I was doing, letting go of all of those years, yet
not aware of it. I was with my friend Ed and he just allowed me to go
on and on ranting and crying and screaming. He was silent, supportive,
he understood. When we went back to Arlington, I wandered off on a path to some place I
was not supposed to be and looked up and saw a large granite sign on
the wall. It was the oath that the sentinel takes for the Tomb of the Unknowns.
I was standing there trying to take photographs and abruptly to my
surprise and shock, out of the door right next to me, steps a Marine.
He was but a boy and oh, my goodness, he stopped and saluted me. It
blew my mind. I felt like I should be saluting him. He turned on
a perfect pivot click of heel and when he walked nothing moved but his
feet.
We did not have a schedule. We just went on a whim.
Neither of us knew anything detailed about Arlington. We had never
been there before.
So, I was sneaking behind the Marine wondering where is he going? knowing I had to follow him and I do. Then he turns around the corner and Oh, my goodness . . . the changing of the guard.
My Father was a World War II Marine. His name is Edwin George
Koester. He is not my biological father, but he is my Dad. He raised me
and he raised me well.
I absolutely adore growth. When I was 13, my first job was working with the Mercy nuns (Sisters of Mercy) at the convents cultivating their elegant and numerous gardens.
When I had my first chunk of dirt in the city, I grew everything from
carefully constructed herb rock gardens (that my chocolate lab lived
in, loved and kept digging up), elegant rose beds of all variations, 7
foot sunflowers, all types of annuals and perennials, tons of
vegetables and yes, I grew corn in the city (that grew beautifully and
was delicious).
Last year, I started all of my vegetables and herbs indoors during
winter and had so many plants when Spring hit that I had to keep giving
them away.
I will try (almost) anything. I have never attempted to grow fruit.
The simplest things in life make me happy like seeing avocado seeds burst with roots!
This unique fruit is sometimes referred to as the "alligator pear"
because it is shaped like a pear, is green and has "bumpy" skin like an
alligator. The flesh inside the fruit is only eaten, discard the rest.
Except for the seed.
Avocados contain Vitamin K, Folate, Vitamin C, Potassium, Vitamins
B5, B6 and Vitamin E. There are small amounts of Magnesium, Manganese,
Copper, Iron, Zinc, Phosphorus, Vitamin A, Vitamin B1 (Thiamine), B2
(Riboflavin), and B3 (Niacin). An avocado contains more Potassium than a
banana.
It is a "high fat food" meaning heart healthy poly
and monounsaturated fatty acids. Oleic acid, the fatty acid present in
avocados, is the main component in olive oil. This fruit is loaded with
fiber and while some nutrients are "fat soluble" (meaning they need to
be combined with fat in order to be utilized), simply adding avocado
to salads, dips, and spreads increases antioxidant and nutrient
absorbance. I adore avocados. There are various ways they can be eaten.
Simply peel the skin off and eat it like fruit, when the avocado is
ripe, use that as a spread [instead of using mayonnaise or a similar
unhealthy concoction] on sandwiches, make a dip out of it for raw
vegetables, add chunks to a salad, to rice with lime, to salsa, replace
fats in recipes with an avocado, and of course, to make guacamole.
Avocados ripen well and when purchasing, unless you are ready to use
immediately, make sure they are firm to the grip. An avocado is ripe
when it is only slightly soft to the touch.
My love for avocados led me to grow my own tree. This is the easiest thing I have ever grown and it was 100% free.
To start, use a seed leftover from an avocado:
Wash it well, do not scrub it.
Put three toothpicks on a downward angle into the center of and around the seed.
Get a small clear glass container, fill it with water.
Suspend the toothpicks across the rims of the container.
Let the seed sit in the water halfway.
Place that in a warm place out of direct sunlight, uncovered.
Replenish water when necessary, do not allow evaporation.
Wait about 2-6 weeks.
I started with two seeds and one grew. I would start with a few just
in case. If none of them grow, keep trying! It takes anywhere from 2-6
weeks to see the root appear.
What occurs first is the seed
covering cracks, falls off, and the entire seed cracks and the root can
be seen growing out of the bottom. After that, the new green growth
comes out of the top. Replenish water so it is fresh and gently clean
both seed and container regularly with plain water, no soap, to get rid
of accumulations from humidity.
After you see the root, follow further instructions HERE.
Due to the below freezing temperatures in winter, I keep a 4 foot
tropical Croton tree (diverse, complex group of plants ranging from
herbs, shrubs to trees) in my living room. The avocado tree will be
right at home!
For me, nothing truly compares to the serenity of nature.
I have had an interesting ride
thus far. I have done just about every drug in some form in the
past except for putting anything in my veins. At one point in my life,
I bordered on alcoholism. I do not regret these times; they were the
best and worst times of my life and made me who I am today.
I am after all, only human.
My point is I fully understand what it feels like to be high.
I am a strange creature and
fully accept this. I am an introvert and extrovert rolled up into one
human being. I can be completely sociable and outright solitary. Not
everyone is going to understand where I am coming from and that is
okay. If anyone takes a single positive thing from what I write, do, or
say, then my purpose on this Earth is clear.
Last year, while out in the
woods, a dear friend of mine said to me, “Why are you taking that cell
phone out? You need to enjoy all of this around us!”
I replied, “No, you do not
understand. I have to show people what we are seeing, feeling,
experiencing. I have a NEED to tell others. I am fully immersed in this
moment.”
He looked at me out of the corner of his eye with recognition, and said, “You are a documenter!”
Yes, I am.
I do not plan my times in
nature; rather, nature tells me when to go. Often, I am driving and
just turn off the road and decide, Hey, right now; I need to go do this.
Today, I went where people
rarely travel where there is wildlife and woods, trails and trees,
water and brush. I went before it became humid and everyone was out and
about enjoying their weekend. I prefer to be alone or with someone
close to my soul. I go "elsewhere" in nature.
While walking along one trail,
mesmerized within and with the trees, looking up at their lumbering
arms reaching above, out and down to me; I wished to reach my own arms
up to meet theirs in some sort of holy supplication. Some sort of
forgiveness and gratefulness for the damage humankind has dealt.
Trees are bridges to other worlds.
Their exhalation is our breath and vice versa. Their arms reach up
towards the sky, the Upper World, their roots below to the Underworld,
and their physical bodies; trunks, exist on our plane, the Middle
World.
Just then, a person rode by on a
bike and I did not hear them coming. It is not that I am not aware of
my surroundings, quite the opposite, yet in these instances, I am
accessing someplace else.
When they rode up, I stopped, stared, and gave them that Robert De Niro look wondering what they could possibly want from me. All they ended up saying was, Excuse me, sorry. Then they rode off.
I smiled at them and just kept walking.
When in nature, I step between
and within two worlds. I fully see this physical world, where people
are playing golf, are with their families on swing-sets, walking dogs,
riding bikes, yet that world becomes wispy, like fog. A veil lifts that
I wholeheartedly step into, quite easily and without effort.
This is the realm of nature.
Where the wind whips my hair all around me and her breath pushes
towards me, and I am reborn, cleansed, grounded.
I take photos as I go, snapping
views that to me are not typical. Peering through leaves at bridges,
spotting a critter hopping along a branch, the way the sun dapples my
hand immersed in water. I crouch in leaves and dirt and get down low to
rocks and water. I close my eyes and feel the Earth beneath my feet. I
place my hands and feet in the water to feel the energy of this
universe.
Nothing exists around me but
this, these moments, that energy; although I am fully aware of my other
surroundings, they are secondary to these moments.
I take videos of what I see to
come back and show others - hoping that someone experiences what I do
and feels the energy of the moment. I record audio of what I hear, the
birds, ducks, critters, and things I have yet to discover. I record the
water speaking, babbling, bringing me a sense of belonging. My ultimate goal is that others explore the momentous, hallowed ground that surrounds us daily.
I do belong in both worlds. Completely to one.
Today I came upon a grove of trees of varied species, enormous, beauteous, wondrous. Before I approach a tree, I
place my palm gently upon the mid-trunk similar to consoling or
greeting a person, gentle, with compassion, not abrupt or intrusive. I
leave my palm there feeling if this tree welcomes me. I use my
intuition.
[If you have never
done this before, please do. Who cares if people stare at you, they
stare at me too. We are, after all, a strange species and that is okay.]
I listen with my heart, close my
eyes and crouch down close to the tree where it meets the ground, like
prayer, in reverence. I take a photo of the view from the ground and
if that is the tree for me, I proceed. I found two trees that welcomed
my presence.
The first, a big ole Ash and after placing my palm upon
the bark, I rested my spine right up against the tree and closed my
eyes. My upper body started shaking, feeling that immense energy. It
was subtle, the shaking, one cannot see by looking but inside of my
body, yes. More importantly, that shaking felt like fear.
That emotion and feeling went
all the way up and down my spine and settled in my mid-back, yet did
not frighten me. Whether it was my fear, or belonged to the tree, I am
not sure. I turned to face the tree and instead of attempting to gain
energy, I gave.
I placed both my arms around the trunk as far as I could reach and the love I felt was intense.
This felt like one of those
hugs you receive from someone that holds you so dear and you mean the
world to them. This is what I was doing with and for the tree and it,
back to me. Perhaps the tree was ill or plain tired. Maybe I was too.
All I am sure of is that we both needed love. The second tree was a Sycamore,
pictured above. The crux of the tree branches into two massive trees
and the stark white branches screech to the heavens above. This tree
fully gave to me. I walked around the tree
repeatedly seeking the best angle for a photo. I could not resist
resting my palms on the bark. There are places on this tree molded for
the human body, little indents that fit your shoulder, your hip, and
your head.
Around and around I go with this tree and I care less and less about everything "out there." Before the trees, there was this
little path worn a bit by the edge of the main trail. I went down
there and found a cool breeze blowing by the banks of the creek. There
was a massive concrete slab from industry long past. I sat upon that
slab and peered down.
What I saw was the reflection
of the tree leaves and the sky in the water and I smiled. I laid my
back flat against the cool concrete, stretched my legs out and felt my
spine instantly relax into what would normally be something undesirable
- concrete, hard, cold, and dirty.
I never care if my clothes,
shoes, or I get dirty because I enjoy that. My white socks now stained
with mud, my shorts full of grass and leaves, the backs of my calves
splotched with mud and clay from splashing through creeks.
Lying on that slab though, the
breeze blew my hair all around, the birds were singing, ducks flying
overhead, a woodpecker far off, and even though others were walking on
the main trail, not one person saw me there meditating on that concrete
slab. I did not wish to be bothered and I was not.
On my way out, another person tried to talk to me. They said, "Hello!" and I smiled.
They asked me what I was doing. I said, "Taking photos." They replied, "Of what?
I replied, bewildered, "Of nature . . . "
I kept walking wondering if I am the only person who sees two worlds and not just one this day. Sometimes when I leave nature, I
want to hold onto that energy, that bliss and know I cannot. I go to
nature to heal, to ground, to have my own questions answered, to seek
peace. Today was different.
Walking out on the old dirt
path, I felt grateful and lucky to be alive and awake. My limbs work,
even if sometimes I experience pain and although everyone I came across
today was not where I was, I was tired in a healthy fashion, in a
healing way. I walked out of there knowing everything was simply okay.
I did feel a bit sad watching
others sitting in their vehicles talking on cell phones on such a
beautiful day and crossing the street with grimaces on their faces
while holding babies. Some people were yelling at their children in the
park. I wished that just a small spark would light up for everyone and
that they too, would begin to see what I did and do.
I got to my Jeep, started her
up, looked around me once and gave thanks to all that is. I allowed the
breeze to wash over me once again, so sweet, so cleansing.
My goodness, I thought, smiling, this is divinity.
The wind
howls,
magnificent and shrieking,
like some wild woman,
unabashed and naked.
Her brow wet
with brine,
upturned to the most holy sky,
arms raised
in supplication
to a dying world,
embracing,
all that is.
And she,
cross-legged,
beneath Gods and Goddesses,
hair whipping wind,
eyes brazen,
brown and soft.
A touch of
madness and desire,
no human soul
comprehends.
Her howling
becomes one with the wind,
distress signals to the raiment,
the ancient raiment
that poets and sages
sat under and above
for millenniums.
Legs stretched
in front of her,
toes uncurled,
she lays back
flat—
allowing to be cleansed
by the pelting rain,
the dying winter,
the oncoming of spring,
a rebirth of births.
A eulogy to the past,
a welcome to the present,
an embrace to the future.
What it holds
is of no concern,
for she knows
where home is,
away from this society,
away from the busy-ness of life,
away from monotony
and dramatics,
away from this life
consumed
with triviality.
She is here
now,
waiting for you,
to set you free
from chains
you have bound yourself with.
Whip your shoulders back,
allow them to fall.
Feel the weight
vanish.
Grab her hand, willing,
loving,
kind,
calm,
pure and desirous.
Show her
how your soul
shines,
show her
how your eyes light up,
show her how you have released
from your very soul,
all the toxicity
of existence.
She is Earth, dirt,
rocks and stones,
limbs of trees,
mighty oaks and maples,
the birch and elm.
She is the silt of fault lines
holding this globe
together. She is the mighty maelstrom,
every season,
without apology.
She is you,
me.
Come, come and relish this moment,
even if only once.
Dine as a human starved.
Sing of the grace bestowed upon you
for you are born to be supreme,
you are born with the ability to fly,
you are born with the gift to see
with six senses,
seven.
You are powerful in your wildness,
in your pure soul self.
She is here to tell you
to scream and cry,
until there is no speech,
to the skies,
to the clouds,
to the falling rain.
Let it wash upon you
like a sweet cool dream,
and come, come my dear soul.
Do not wait.
No hesitation.
Moments are fleeting.
She is here,
now,
with you,
yet not eternal.
Hurry, hurry, dear!
She will share secrets with you,
teach you how to see
with eyes
that have no place
in the land of humankind.
Each blade of grass,
leaves of the trees of her mane,
like a thoroughbred racing, wondrous,
eyes staring, mad.
There is no finish line,
only now, here.
This moment.
Disrobe beneath this day.
Give thanks to the Great Creator,
to Mother Nature.
To the spirits that speak to you
in your dreams.
To the souls that have guided you
to this place,
this patch of Earth,
this precious time.