Exploring the transformative power of love


I am such a flirt with my hotness, beauty and aliveness, fleeting here and there in my heated self. Will you join me? Let’s become one; let’s burn together, baby. The birds do it, the animals do it. I am in heat! Let’s just do it. I desire to give my hot self away, otherwise, how do I know I am alive? I can warm your cold, ashen self. I can light your fire and we can dance, slip the collar, become unanchored. When I join with your dry brittle self, we two can become intimate and discover hidden treasures of a new world made from our ashes, where the old burns away making way for the new to be born.


Slowly moving closer to you — can you feel my heat?


Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, burn, baby, burn! Release the old that has neither worked nor brought us joy! Burn our bridges, totally creating a newness from out of burned ashes!


Wild flowers will be blooming out of this love, everything will be different. Burn, baby, burn … burn! For life is being born anew in our heartfelt orgasm.

Possessed with Love

This is about a joy of Life that brings blessing to others in giving what has been given from a grateful heart.  I met a man  that  has a reliable business, a man that is awaken to Life who got married a week ago. I dropped into  his business yesterday to pick up a piece of jewelry he had been working on. He and his new bride were standing side by side at his desk as I entered, I was honored to meet his new  bride, my heart spoke softly and swiftly “Share with them a life blessing.”

I stopped in my tracks for I was headed back to get in  my car, As they were working together I ask for his hand, I gave a heart kiss on the back of his hand and did the same for the bride then I joined their hands together and gave another heart kiss. Joy was there Love was present  three of us peoples received Love blessing from each of our hearts and were blended in unity. Happy flooded my heart one more time  giving  from a grateful heart- giving away that had been given.


Little blade of grass,

what a Teacher you are,

reminding me to remember.

your roots quietly going down in


How easily you grow, surrendering.

The warm brown earth is there for you

as the two of you embrace,

creating a beautiful world.

not just of your making,

but merging into the oneness of the grower

As I sit in Silence, webbed by pain,

I sink into the warm earth inside myself,

to the Oneness, the Lover, the Grower;

the Lover becoming One

in my surrender to Silence.

In Silence,

the smallest leaf becomes a thing of wonder

and a blade of grass

a sign of God’s perfection.

Thank you, little blade of grass,

for sitting with me

and helping me remember.

Out of the closet

I no longer feel compelled to buy

a car demonstrated by a gorgeous hunk climbing down into it and taking off with his white-tooth-smile and toned-up bod.

I no longer want to see how cosmetics “work” on young, unwrinkled skin.
How about a 50-, 60-, 80-year-old modeling this stuff just for you and me?

I no longer want to see ads for fragrances that show inexperienced couples embracing.

What about showing lovers “of a certain age” encircled by the warm perfume of their  not pretending?

I no longer want to thumb through a magazine promoting fashions that only go up to Size 14. What about Sizes 16 through 28  — things that “fit” our thighs and style?

I’ve become a Cheerleader for Positive Aging. I’m coming out of the closet on this one  — Watch out!

I’ve had many bodies: a newborn body, a 14-year-old body, a 21-year-old body, and the ones that have shown up since my 40’s.  Now I have this 70’s and 80’s Model  —  Surprise! Surprise! My past bodies  — well, I’ve just outgrown ‘em!  Having decided my present one is no longer going to stand at attention and salute, I’m off the hook and, as I said, out of the closet!

Now my question is: What will I do with this body I presently live in? Having moved through my past Body Beautiful Syndrome, I now choose to navigate both the inner and outer journey of my life’s second half with an easy attitude. While living with only superficial beauty, I never knew if I was being loved for me or my body. Now, there is no question!

It makes no sense that we as humans are born to blossom early and then spend the rest of our lives withering away.  Not so!  Forget that   — I just don’t buy it!

Here’s my new attitude:  Positive aging makes me gutsy and full of laughs.  I’m always ready to give and receive appreciations.  I even relish my solitude.

You could say it’s just plain  choosing to be happy  — lightening up, enjoying being a Crone. It’s being secure in the knowledge that I am a woman of wisdom with a child-like joy of being in the moment  — no matter what my body’s up to.  I see things differently now.   I enjoy “my 70’s and 80’s version” with blessed acceptance.

Cheers to the grandeur of Positive Aging!

Calico Cat

Calico Cat

Calico Cat (Photo credit: Danielle Bauer)

Calico —  You went away  just like you appeared, out of no where, you walked into my life.

Calico cat you are so gentle, warm not taking sides, no separation, you were just who you were and never apologetic, you knew what you wanted , you knew who needed that love touch, walking  through my front door of my home.  Thank you Calico cat. As I lay your lifeless sweet body to rest you will always be in my heart for love sits on top of darkness and death.  Your unconditional love was everywhere, my heart was ripe for your love to enter that day.  You brought  softness in the way I want to speak (soft with myself) and when confronted by others of different colors like a calico cat, to also be soft.  You displayed all of your colors well, black white with maize in gods’ diversity.  Loving, allowing yourself to be held in your last breathing moments cradled in my arms rocking ourselves in our rocking chair together, you were showing me to embrace life and death as we joined  together in our  sacred space, But death does not steal love. You are now cold and this mystery is: you still live warmly  in my heart, you walked in to me and walked out. I am grateful for that walk my way. Love moves without an agenda. It just moves because that is its nature- to move. What you left I get it, it is all about life’ teaching,  I get the big picture, your cats persistence taught me to receive love and healing no matter what form it comes in. Although your form is gone, placing you underneath my newly planted Bartlett  pear tree, Mother Earth welcomes you, with help in growing her pears for our enjoyment .You have returned to where you came , thanks for making my home one of your stopping off places.

Polka Dot Love

Living beyond the city limits I see unwanted dogs being dumped out weekly.  Some find their way to my home.  When a large, black and white spotted pup found his way to my door I took up with him right away.  His eyes were bright and gentle and his ears perked quickly at the sound of a kind voice.  Funny, I had just bought a black and white polka dot purse, so like my polka dot purse, I named him Polka Dot.  He loved and was loved.  My false, soap opera ego was disarmed by Love masquerading as a canine in a polka dot suit.

One day about 5 months later he came up on the porch sick, very sick.  I felt totally helpless and fearful because his breathing was so labored.  I gently spoke to him and stroked him with my loving hands.  He could not breathe and then suddenly he just seemed to surrender the struggle.   He rose, turned and slowly walked down the steps and headed for the corner of the house that leads to the backyard.  As he reached the corner he paused, turned around to look back at me and then walked on as if he knew where he was inevitably bound.   Around the corner, he laid his body down and died.  What pulled my heart strings was that I just knew he was saying bye to me with love and gratitude.  I can still see his sweet, gentle brown eyes as he turned back to look on his way out of this world.

Love sometime seems to be hidden; but where can it go?  Its fragrance lingers to soften our hearts.  Love remains.  That’s exactly what Polka Dot brought into my life – yes, love embodied in a 4-legged canine earthly body.  Thank you, sweet Polka Dot for your visit and for reminding me of what really counts in my life.

The Phone Call

Please allow me to share a recent happening with you.

My dearest Mother left this planet, crossed over, died – whatever one wants to call it — (I choose to call it dying or passing on to the next life) — a little over six years ago. In her sickest days just before that, we had this conversation:

“Mom, will you please let me hear from you

when you pass over or get to that next place?”

“Yes, I will do that.”

I must tell you that I’ve thought about that conversation many times since that day. And I must also tell you that I hadn’t received a word from her in all that time until….

One morning last week my phone rang. When I picked it up, there was only silence on the other end.

“Hello,” I said. “Hello,” I said once more.

It was then that this soft, ethereal voice spoke.

It said to me, “My daughter…”

Though I listened for more words, there were none.

And there was no sound of hanging up from the other end of the phone.

After a long moment, I hung my phone up very slowly.

I say that was my Mother keeping her promise to me.

What do you say?

Happy Now


It’s a good thing my 75-year-old body grounds me to this earth, otherwise my Spirit would just float off! The mystery I call love is my goal.

Since I put on my earth suit, love has come to me in bits and pieces. Now I know there’s more – much more.

Love never runs out.

Love is Big

Life is Big.

And Happy is part of both.

In my life, the bits and pieces of love I’ve gotten have made me feel crappy. Now I want happy, so is  the leap I’ve chosen to make.

Last month, I was swimming at the ‘Y’ on Quince Road, when I was splashed by Happy in the form of a beautiful young man of 19 from the war-infested Middle East. Even though he’s been forced to live through war’s pain, he accepts everyone as beings to be loved, not as war’s participants – not as his enemies.

Inviting him into my heart and our home has been a real heart-opener for me. Sharing life’s moments with him reminds me that true love has nothing to do with age, looks, smells, what I drive or what part of town I live in.

The love this young man and I share is not a romantic love, but a God Affair.  It teaches me daily that love is a solvable mystery and nothing can take its place.

At 75, I accept no substitutes.  I want what brings me Happy – not crappy.  And the joy of it is, now I know the difference. Out goes my idea that one must be mature (certainly over 19!) to “get” Love’s mystery and live it.

My 75-year-old body is going to pot, but my spirit is downright perky when it comes to love – no matter when, where or from who it appears. I’m glad my body’s got me grounded because I’m not through with life.  Love is Big.  Life is Big. There is plenty to go around — no matter what your age.



My baby Emy, just this morning I held you to my breast and let you lick all over my face and neck with your little pink tongue as you loved to do. Somehow you must have known that this was our last perfect time together. And I know that you knew.

I also know that you knew I would be the one to find you, so you bestowed me with one last remarkable gift. The car that hit you left no marks at all on your precious little body.

You laid down your life so I could heart-see you — beyond bodyform — and get a glimpse of the Real! How perfect is that?

My beloved lover-girl-dog, before you walked through my door, I thought (with my cunning, know-it-all mind) that I knew all there was to know. But not so, because in your subtle doggie ways, you easily and willingly taught me so much more. I must have been ready for you and didn’t even know I was ready. But in you came – and you got me BIG TIME.

You were who you were and you were Love. 

Will I give up the tears I’m crying for you, Emy? Not just yet, because my feelings have been laid bare and I’m overwhelmed. But I know that I will get through this pain and that I will be getting a love call that I don’t even know about yet.

“Bow Wow!” it will say.

And I will say, “Wow!”

I now have glimpses of you scampering where there are no cars for you to dodge, no cats you must run from, no cravings for foods that hurt you, no baths to endure, no need to bark at any- and everything. For you, my beloved Emy, are totally in the light of freedom!

I see you running wild with the wind blowing through your beautiful, silken hair, but I still so miss your perfect love presence in perfect dog form.

Can I put a closure to our love affair? I do not know. You

opened my heart with your sweet surgical skill and right now, I refuse to close it, for Love is coming through.

Through our pain and all our “stuff,” Love can call each of us when we least expect it, and Love can show itself to each of us in ways that may surprise. After all, LOVE is what everyone is!

Why Men Love Bitches.

Before you react negatively to that title, allow me to tell you how I interpret that word, because I’ve thought about it a great deal and I’m pleased to report that it no longer evokes the negative charge that it’s held for me for most of my life.

Just the other day, a man who’s quite close to me called me by that word, and I think I can safely say that he thought he was insulting me or criticizing me. Imagine his shock when I reacted by saying, “Thank you! What a revelation!”

He didn’t quite know what to make of it — but I sure did, because, now that I’ve learned to love myself and now that I’ve become a thinker on my own, the way I react to being called a bitch is not too serious anymore, it’s laced with a sense of humor, rather than a negative sensitivity.

To me, a bitch is not someone who has an abrasive disposition, not the proverbial “bitch on wheels” like the one Joan Collins portrayed on Dynasty. The woman I speak of doesn’t give up her life to please a man. She doesn’t chase a man. She won’t let a man think he has 100% hold on her. She isn’t swept away by romantic fantasy.

The woman I speak of has an ever-so-subtle strength She knows what she wants. She is like a steel magnolia, flowery (feminine) on the outside and secure and durable on the inside. And she will step up for herself when a man steps over the line.

I believe men love freedom and need a mental challenge. Typically, most men won’t say things like “Don’t be a doormat” or “Don’t revolve your whole world around me,” or “Don’t always say yes yes,” even though, deep down, they tend to resent latched-on women who are unable to say no to them.

In my opinion, therefore — even though they may not know it or admit to themselves — men love bitches because they’re independent, they know what they want and they can think on their own.

To me, a bitch is an empowered woman who derives tremendous strength from not thinking someone else’s thoughts. To me, a bitch has come to a self-knowledge of her own value. To me, a bitch is a woman who has a feeling of confidence and carries this magnetic quality within herself always.

Because of that, she is able to relate to any male on a whole new level.

I am a bitch. Won’t you join me?