A new mythology 

A new mythology is needed and it has finally come to me what the centrifugal theme will be, and that is, of course, a tale of the bastard child. Only this time, the mission she is sent for, you are surprised that our savior is a woman aren’t you, but it is time for at least one tale to inspire little girls to never be victims. Surely that would almost make all the suffering of the women before you a little more worthy of just outcome if the end is that we will warn you of the wolves at your door and you will also be saved by other wolves so it’s a matter of knowing friend or foe, to survive long enough to grow strong and smart. Much of this also involves being silent. In speech. But the pen is mightier than the sword, they now say, but that is only because the sword quietly watches as the pen must get its rest each night to continue defending the want of the sword but not necessarily the need of a weapon that assures death. The mutually assured destruction policies were borne of fear, when there were too many people in the world. So many that too few appreciated her, their Mother Earth, Gaia, the one who sustained everything about them and yet they were filled with such disrespect, it made a metallic taste in her mouth.

She spit it out.

The bastard fights no vengeance battle, no ancient bloodlines seeking to avenge the dead who do not care who lives and dies for they are no longer here to see it. That is the folly, the surreal and ridiculous horror of our existence. If we are alone in the universe of galaxies as some rare unique sentient life form that the beings of light protect and the beings of dark infest to ruin from within. Angels versus demons. The shamans were all in hiding. It was another of the cyclical dark times. The heat was oppressive, the cold would bury you if you didn’t keep moving.
She fought for no one. She fought for all.

There is 

One thing I’m relatively sure of and that is I’m the best white girl stearsperson on a Hawaiian outrigger canoe 

For those I won’t forget 

the new moon closest to the shortest solar day
Calls our silences

back together 

to those times we forgot 

everything but the immediate 

command – to live in the face of pressure to absolutely give up, give in not buck up relentlessly past due date circumference  death.

You’d be surprised how wrong you are about me. If you’d only ever been listening.

This is my dad opening a Christmas present in our basement 

This is him in his prime. He was a beautiful swimmer, like my brother’s daughter. See, there is such a thing as nature v nurture and I’m just not sure where I fall in that mix at the moment, at this point in time, I’m not sure I want to find out where I came from, the nature part. If you’re just catching up, I’m adopted. 

Paradise Found was 22 acres and a crappy little house (I kept the tiniest bedroom always that is now part of the kitchen) where Liz and Barry raised Hector & Gertrude (our longest running romance of 250 ducks, 40 geese, various injured hawks and speciality rescue creatures).

 Almost every weekend for most the years of my childhood, we would take in injured animals because Dad had really wanted to be a zoologist instead of a radiologist. 

We rehabilitated a baby pig named Pearl, a  fawn, Daisy Dirl raccoon (she stayed), many garter snakes all named Charlie, an osprey, a few grebes, my pet duck movie die and my horse, Buck Z-O.

I did not realize how utterly unique my upbringing was until—sometime a while ago. But I also never let on the obvious quirks of my one-of-a-kind family such as my father reading Carlos Casteneda to me after dinner while I was going to an all-girl Episcopalian prep school adjusting to blue bloods and Faulkner, while contemplating medicine wheels, introduced by my western medicine practitioner eastern medicine admirer sort of father.

And here I stand as confused and confounded as ever, somewhat worse for the wear, some ways better aged like wine, no details offered just a wish and a hope on a wing and a prayer that it’s not just stupid and meaningless after all.

Tomorrow brings the last 4 days of an incredibly tumultuous year. So of course I want to steer my own ship. This you could predict. 

If you listened, if you hear. 

The bluff overlooking the river 

Saved my life 

I can safely assume 

from this distance 

the bird’s eye view

eagle eye scan 

the horizon 

for lost 

and found 



mirrored light 

thru apertures 

slowing time 

fast film 

light glistens holy forever 


Happiest time of my relatively happy life 

So far   


Where everything around is only reminder of loss

Lost years lost luck lost loves 

Everything designed 

to resonate your 


if you never have to say a word perhaps the loss will stop 

And to all a good life 


A study by Gavin Finley MDendtimepilgrim.org

SUMMARY: The two turtledoves in holy scripture and in literature present a picture of devotion and covenant lovingkindness. It is a sublime vision of earthly love and friendship. Two is the number of witness. One person is bringing a witness on behalf of his friend, his companion. One individual is standing up on behalf of the other.

I like that message. It gives hope. A glimmer of faith in humanity. That an individual would stand up for me? I just lost that person this year. Now do I stand alone?

But religion can never just leave it there, contemplating the possibility of good in man. Nope, vengeful creator asshole has to step in and demand blood sacrifice. 

I ask the world’s people, has not enough blood been shed to satisfy your God today, Christian, Muslim, Buddhist, Hindu, Jew? Has not enough been sacrificed to YOUR GOD?

How can there be a your God and a my God?

I reject a creator power that demands killing. I find the notion of armies of angels naive and delusional. The only reason I even can consider the gospels is they are written by four different men telling the same truth. The end book is the mad vision of one crazy of man seeking vengeance of his own. God has no use for a scorched earth. Move along with your lies please or come to crucify me because no prophet you can begin to imagine will be foretold to such dark and ignorant minds.

In the Hebrew sacrificial system the sacrifice of the two turtledoves is an acceptable offering for the poor. It is an offering that brings peace with God. 

Blood sacrifice does not bring peace with my God.

Remember those peaceful doves carrying the olive branch? Well Judeo-Christian tradition slaughters those doves like a serial killer.

Here is how it works. The two turtledoves are accepted as a pair for entry into covenant with God. The blood of the two turtledoves is sprinkled not on the altar but against the sides of the altar. This is the very same altar upon which the Sacrifice Lamb is offered.

 Again I reject this God. I only accept the God is love principle. And I have proof.

So two turtle doves to me represent the bringing together of two to achieve peace on earth 

Goodwill to mankind and to all a good life


If I had known of this before three days before Christmas, two turtle doves would be the ornament story I’d want to tell on my tree. This year was red, predominantly red with a splash or swath of green, as I am free green friendly vibe underground sinister watchful eye. The beginning of this song I’m trying to write for the blues guitarist.


“Turtle doves are a symbol of friendship and love. Keep one, and give the other to a very special person. As long as each of you has your turtle dove, you will be friends forever.” – Home Alone 2.

ghost of xmas past

Faith, Hope & Charity 

On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three French hens… 

French Hens were very expensive during the 16th century, and thus are symbolic of the three costly gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh given by the wise men (Matt. 2:10-11). An alternate significance is symbolism depicting the value of the three Christ virtues, faith, hope, and charity (sacrificial love) (1 Cor. 13:13). Other forms of the song use the French Hens to symbolize the three persons of the trinity.




Instead of wishing or hoping for something to happen, a believer knows that their hope is solid, concrete evidence because it is grounded in the Word of God and we know that God cannot lie (Heb 6:18; Num 23:19). 

How does he “know”? Knowledge is not faith. Hope that faith is true. That is the human predicament. The other half believes that faith makes them right, not wrong. Yet, still, the human soul toils to prove its worth to a god whose word is encrypted and cloaked in mysterious myths of old, based on fear and the need to believe that God CANNOT lie. There’s not mention of whether he wants to our not. If we are truly created in his image, then how could he not lie to us? How could he be anything but like us? No one ever talks of this because they want to use their belief to exclude others. They want their place in line to be sucked up like a deposit in a bank tube to going straight to heaven.


  Drive-thru banking for Heaven 
That’s your soul being sent up to God, or to Mars, take your pick. I’m still not clear on how his fallen angel got away from him and why he wants the wasteland we’re leaving so much. 



soul -sucking machine
soul courier
soul pile
Three days til the first Christmas without my father. I’m not sure about any of this, but I’ll accept the three French hens from my true love whenever he finds me right where God left off…

My Favorite DollIMG_1231

i cannot lie

There weren’t always 4…

On the continued quest for the truth about the 12 days of Christmas and using the format of the advent calendar to reveal some pearl of wisdom or at least authentic reflection of time and place, this 21st of December, 2015 years after the death of the boy about to be born, according to my cultural tradition, whether I like it or not.


 4. They weren’t always “four calling birds.”
The “four calling birds” that we sing about today were, at different times, “four canary birds” and “four mockingbirds,” and before that they show up as “colly birds” or “collie birds,” which is the archaic term for blackbirds. There were however, for some reason, always four of them.

Precise Origin Unknown

We’ve now heard that the song is code for the persecuted…

4 Calling Birds = the Four Gospels and/or the Four Evangelists 


4 virtues

But what of the 4 virtues?





What of nourishing those, 4 days out, my true love waits…

3 French Hens = Faith, Hope and Charity, the Theological Virtues