Murder, Madman & Martyrs

Sometimes I feel so heavy hearted I can't seem to do anything but cry. Not a self pity sob, but a tender weeping that comes with the responsibility of knowing how bittersweet it is. Life I mean. No madman is chasing me around with a bomb strapped to them intent on murdering me and themselves, but I seem to have fallen through the cracks of caring. Stealthly, I travel north to Alaska where I'll study the frozen places and share the warm, native love. My spirit guide has shown me the path and now I'm challanged to walk it. Is it wrong to only want to love? Can it be bad to let go of politics and carefully plan an escape to places where the air is filled with ice crystals and people are past hurting each other? I made a vow to make peace tonight. In front of a clean, beautiful shrine with polished statues, sparkling vases and white roses, I prayed for the murdered and martyred. Equally, they'll share a place in heaven. From Pakistan to Prague, Peru to Pocatello, we're all in this together and tolerence is the only answer.

No Christmas Bah-Humbuggery!

December 25th, 2007

It snowed in Portland! I stoked the fire and made perfect cappuccinos. A simple day with no expectations dashed. Christmas can be strange and magnificent. I didn't let my disgruntled, bah-humbuggery run the show. I honor each second as they tick by filled with family, stories and new life that grows like a string of fine pearls knotted perfectly for one hundred years. The moon colored gems pick up the oils of life and glow. Adorned and bejeweled with gifts from the sea, I stare into candle light, catch the scent of sweet Champa insense, fill my eyes with family photos of the children, drink red wine (2002 Silver Oak and Portteus Cabernet Sauvignon) and sit down to a table filled with delicious food of the season. I'm grateful for the bliss, but like a captured star, my eyes tell the deep story of the heart. Breath sweeps into my lungs and out into the wet atmosphere of night time, twinkle lights and melting ice. Remember, Christmas comes but once a year. Don't wait to be happy.

Last night I dreamt I was walking down H Street in Anchorage, Alaska. I crossed the Park Strip and rushed through town into the warmth of the Atwood Theater. I saw the faces of my tribe. His black eyes flashed a smile and I saw my guide waiting for me, again.

The Drunken Solstice

I realize that even when the planets are badly aligned in the sky, I have to make the best of this craziness. I believe I will comment on the state of the modern drunkard. My simple thought on this is, “If you can’t handle alcohol, don’t drink”. I’m not saying there aren’t some cute drunks, but only once can sloppy drunk be endearing. The journey of addiction is an empty one. I do have mercy on addicts and their disease, but I vow to never be an addict. I know now. In the New Year I will continue to party with the people and share the gifts that are offered to me like the pipe, the food, the love, the booze, but I will balance and be free of any ties that bind.

Today I burn the flowers of the past. Dried and dead, their color is pale and the vivid blue of spring is dusty with visions and dreams that have come to pass. Standing at the sacred bonfire with friends who all struggle with addiction, depression and life humbles me. I kneel under the stars at the altar of love. That is where the clear answer lies. Living with the question (Have I had enough?) is becoming second nature to me now and I celebrate the clarity of what love brings.

The modern drunkard has something to prove that has no place with the warriors. Keen and quick we have to be. It could happen in a split second. When least expected you will be called upon. What if? You can’t help if you’re drunk. I’ve been scared straight, but it would be preferable to rise to the moment and know that my choice is made in a clear state.

Thinking of the right thing to say or do each moment is quite the challenge. Deciding what I want in my life is always a pending question.

December 18th, 2007 Chugach Romance

Rosemondpost is up and on the road. Like any new born, we have to learn to crawl and take our first step. Sipping Dao from Portugal, we celebrate the beginning of a commentary that shall include the erotic, travel, politics, humor, gossip, poetry, music, opinion, photography, cooking, growing, healing, advice, magic and love of life.

As a train whistle blows in the distance, my minds eye sees it traveling south while we cozily stare at the Christmas tree. We're happy that Al Gore won the Noble Peace prize and we're here to write about it. Turkey is $1.99 a pound.

We end our first post with pesto rigatoni and a Happy Hour that never ends.

More to come about the Chugach Mountains that skirt Anchorage, Alaska and the hot romance that is playing itself out on the foothills, backstage, in the bars and on the wintry streets covered with snow.