It’s not that there is a lot wrong with me. (see what I mean!  There I go…..) But just the same, there is always room for some improvement. A little less susceptible to sinus infections, a little less asthma, a little more patience, a little more balance.

Being a homeopath  in the hot seat and may make it even more difficult since it’s tempting to try to analyze what you are saying….but I just went with the flow, and tried to be as spontaneous as possible, and my homeopath walked me through to get to my core sensation.  I knew the only way to find a good remedy for me was going to be with classical homeopathy taken to the ultimate, with my case taken by someone who was an expert in the Sankaran style of interviewing.

I took my single dose a couple months ago and I think the remedy is a good one, whatever it was. (No way they are going to tell me what the remedy was until they are sure, we need to keep my follow-ups unbiased as much as possible.) At least I haven’t had a sinus infection in the past 2 months, and before I had one or two every winter for the past 4 years. Time will tell.

Homeopathy is one of the most powerful healing modalities I have ever seen. True healing occurs on the energetic level, and that is why modalities that are able to shift/correct/balance/move a person on an energetic level are so powerful. Suddenly the body can heal itself when the blocks are removed. It’s quantum: a seemingly small shift can allow huge and sometimes dramatic changes as the person returns to a balanced healthy state on all levels, both physical and emotional. This is something allopathic medicine can never do, since it is often treating the symptoms of what is wrong, not what is actually wrong with a person.

I can’t imagine they have any feeling of job security though. I mean, there are only so many colors. Once you name them you are done. Right? But it seems that every time I go to a paint section anywhere: home depot, Wal-Mart, Dunn Edwards, etc…the brochures seem to change, and there are new names for colors. Names that I could never think of.

Does each company have their own paint color namer? Or is it just one person that works for all the paint companies as a consultant.

I suppose each country has it’s own paint color namer. After all, the colors may be the same, but how is a person in Istanbul going to know what color Green Bayou is?

It all started when I was inspired by the urban farmer, Greg Peterson. I had a tour of his yard in central Phoenix, and was impressed by the 35 or so fruit trees in his front yard, (he had even more in the back!) The idea was to keep them pruned and small. Keeping them under 6-7 feet you never need a ladder, get all the fruit you need, and can get more varieties in a small space.

Rene mixing up cement

First thing was to build an underground barrier to prevent the Bermuda grass from getting into my vegetable garden. This underground 12 inch cement wall surrounds the area and will keep any new Bermuda grass from sneaking into my great garden after the irrigation stimulates the grass to start growing again.

6 months ago 9 yards of planting soil was delivered and spread over most of my front yard. Areas for vegetables got the lasagna treatment: cardboard over the grass, then alfalfa, then soil, then alfalfa, then soil. This smothers out any grass underneath the cardboard. Irrigation lines were installed with spaghetti lines (sounds like an  Italian yard) so that I could move water lines wherever and whenever I wanted. While attending the first annual heirloom seed expo in Santa Rosa, I picked up some heirloom seeds, and learned about saving seeds. My first small crops are just coming in now: zucchini, lettuce, snow peas, broccoli, beets, kohlrabi, carrots, dill, cilantro.

The caliche soil is hard with a lot of clay so rather than chop with a pickaxe, or soak it and then shovel mud, I rented a gasoline-powered auger from Home Depot. With the help of a friend, we quickly drilled into the hard soil, making 3 close passes for each planting hole. Shoveling the loose soil out of the holes was a breeze. Then I mixed in 20% compost with the soil and back-filled the holes to the proper level for the trees. (Ok, I couldn’t raise my arms above my waist after 2 hours of lifting that auger and shoveling, but some Arnica 200c helped.)

The trees were already pruned for me, so they looked like sticks with roots. I put them in the holes with the graft facing as much NE as possible, do avoid the harsh Arizona sun. It is important to the roots are completely covered without any air pockets. After a good soaking with a couple gallons homeopathic Silica 30C water, some mulch added the final touch.
Peter Honey fig, Brown Turkey fig, 2 varieties of pomegranates, an almond tree, Anna Apple tree, Gold Kist apricot, Santa Rosa plum, Babcock peach, Florida Prince peach, Red Baron and Desert Gold peach, Tropic Snow White peach, and a loquat. There are 2 navel orange trees and one Meyer(of course!) lemon  tree left to be delivered after the danger of any frost is past.

With minimal maintenance, shade and the benefit of organic fruits planting fruit trees seemed like the logical thing to plant if you have even a just small space for a fruit tree. Thanks for all the help from friends and workers for advice, and shovel-time!

Trenching for cement barrier

!st layer of lasagna - cardboard

1st layer of alfalfa

Planting soil....lots of it.

The first soil layer goes on

Another alfalfa layer, then more soil.

Ready for planting

Here comes the food!

peas

Zucchini

Bare root fruit trees

Apricot

TLC

Almost done

A front yard orchard

By the way, I have traveled to India, Thailand, Kenya, Tanzania, Botswana, and South Africa, and have seen and even ridden elephants there….and I never saw any of these amazing elephant balls there.

After I was dropped off at the airport I knew within 1 minute that I didn’t have my cell phone.  I could have called the friend that dropped me off to circle back and give me the phone that had fallen to the floor of her car. But, I didn’t have my cell phone. And I didn’t have her phone number…it’s in my cell phone of course.

A moment of panic.

Ok, everything happens for a reason. I’ll be OK.

Actually, I was better than OK. It was somewhat freeing to not have the phone attached to me. I had my laptop, so I could email people what had happened. I could roam and not be found.  The four days went quickly. I emailed back to phoenix to set up my pick at the airport. But if there was a problem on either end, we wouldn’t be able to call each other to tell the other person what had happened. Just like in the “old” days. But I sent an email in advance and got the cell phone number of the friend picking me up. Just in case. If I was waiting too long I could borrow a cell phone and call. (Do they still have pay phones?)

Anyway, I survived. When I was reunited with my lost friend it had lots to tell me. After recharging the battery I got caught me up on all the people who tried to call, and all the voice messages, all the texts.

It feels good to have it back in my pocket.

Man is always fighting something

Since you begin to resonate with what you think about.…perhaps we shouldn’t focus so much on fighting, but on healing. It’s a subtle shift, but an important one, and it brings a whole different energy into play. Mother Teresa said ”I was once asked why I don’t participate in anti-war demonstrations. I said that I will never do that, but as soon as you have a pro-peace rally, I’ll be there.”

Forest fires clear the path for new growth, and return nutrients to the soil. Sort of wipes the slate clean, so the cycle starts over, but doesn’t end. When fighting a forest fire I suppose we can at least slow things down, and save homes. But stepping back and looking from a higher perspective taking ourselves out of the arena – maybe gives a different perspective.

The war on disease has given us antibiotics, but now there are super bugs that are resistant to some of the strongest drugs we have. This is a setup for a new epidemic of old diseases that we will have no allopathic drugs left to fight with. In fact, Eckhart Tolle brings up this very point in his book, A New Earth. He explains:

“Homeopathy and Chinese medicine are two examples of possible alternative approaches to disease that do not treat the illness as an enemy and therefore do not create new diseases.”

“War is a mind-set, and all action that comes out of such a mind-set will either strengthen the enemy, the perceived evil, or, if the war is won, will create a new enemy, a new evil equal to and often worse than the one that was defeated.”

I’m not saying don’t support that which is good, but try not to give as much attention to what is bad. Rather than curse at the darkness, light a candle, and see what is good.

If there is to be peace in the world,
There must be peace in the nations.
If there is to be peace in the nations,
There must be peace in the cities.
If there is to be peace in the cities,
There must be peace between neighbors.
If there is to be peace between neighbors,
There must be peace in the home.
If there is to be peace in the home,
There must be peace in the heart.
Lao Tzu

Making soap can take patience, and a lot of stirring. In this case it seemed to take more than usual, perhaps because of experimenting with the recipe. But the stirring provided quality time, to chat, to share a cup of coffee.

So here are some pictures. The soap is curing….it takes a couple of weeks. But we will have some fine olive oil/coconut oil/hemp oil/shea butter soap soon.

That synchronicity thing popped up again. I knew my sister died in the month November…but that’s all I remember. Just not good with dates, never have been. A lot of tangentially related things the in the past week, and especially the past 24 hrs made me think of her. I didn’t even remember what year it was she died….. but again, I don’t remember dates. I had to look at the bookmark made in her memory, with the date on it. Then it all made sense… it was yesterday, 3 years ago. For some reason I had to look it up, after watching a roach dying on the floor.

It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that when something happened isn’t as important to me as what happened. Anyway, there was a posting on Facebook this past week of a photo of her. Then there was the movie I watched last night- “Terms of Endearment”. I just recorded it knowing it was an old movie, maybe it won an oscar, and Shirley McClain was in it, and I like her. A big reminder at the end of the movie the young woman (Debra Winger) dies of breast cancer leaving a young family behind. And today I realize that I was watching it 3 years to the day that my sis died of the same thing. wowie zowie!

So, you’re wondering about that roach? 20 minutes ago I got out of the shower, dried, and then saw it laying on its back, legs pointed up in the air,  in a slow crawl. It was right by an open door to outside, so I am hoping he came in that way. But there he was, usually creepy, fast, and grossing people out…but flat on his back, alone, and dying. (I scooped him up on a sheet of paper and tossed him outside to become one with nature…)

For an instant my sister popped into my head. Then I saw on the morning news about the Ironman competition here in Tempe today, and how the last leg is running a marathon. Oh yea, my sister was a runner, she ran 13 marathons after being diagnosed. And the news this week about Avastin being pulled as a recommended drug for breast cancer. Just lots of little reminders….that’s when I had to check the date.

She died 3 years ago yesterday. I suppose all those who knew her connect with that fact on some level, depending on their own life. For me, the roach just was a reminder: Nothing is permanent in this world, not the roach, and especially not us. (But none of us believe it.) So I think sister Steph was just giving me one more poke today, it just took a lot of reminders. Not so much to remember her death, but to remember her life.

Make it count, everyday. Be careful with your words and actions, and thoughts. Just a reminder.

I Am a Runner

By Stephanie Lesiecki

This is a story about going from an 11-day stay in a hospital bed after undergoing major surgery in July of 2004, to finishing the 2004 Chicago Marathon in October.  It’s about being a breast cancer survivor and living with a recent diagnosis of metastasis to the bones.  It’s about being a runner with short-term goals that often evolve around the next long run, to long-term challenges that are usually defined by the date of her next marathon.  It’s about the fire that burns inside a person who wants to thrive, not just survive, and the strength to commit to something that, at the time, seems impossible.  Unfathomable. It’s about personal discipline and perseverance.  It’s about a lot of hard work — physically, mentally, spiritually, emotionally.  It’s what happens when a person decides to take a disease that continually threatens to put her on the downside of the living curve, and use it to feel more alive than most people will ever feel.

I was 35 years of age in 1995 when I found a lump on my right breast and received the diagnosis: infiltrating ductal carcinoma. Breast cancer.  The C-word.  No family history. No smoking or other “bad” habits (medically, anyway). Exercised regularly.  Worked for an advertising/marketing firm. Married.  Mother of two, ages 3 and 5.  Busy life in the suburbs.

Yes, my first thought was . . . “I’m going to die.” 

It’s nine years later, and I just finished my 8^th marathon.  I love to run.

I found an incredible group of doctors and a truly special oncologist, Dr. Melody Cobleigh, at Rush University Medical Center in Chicago.  To say that a lot has happened to me in those nine years would be an understatement. Lumpectomy, axillary node dissection, chemo for months, radiation for weeks, daily hormonal therapy medication, blood tests, mammograms, hair loss . . .  Then came a span of several “good” years in terms of medical check-ups in which I logged hundreds and hundreds of miles running.  With some biking and strength exercises as cross-training, I was able to complete numerous 5Ks, 10Ks, 20Ks, 30Ks, ½ marathons, four triathlons, a couple 3-Day walks, a duathlon and, of course, the ultimate challenge of the marathon.  I ran 7 of them.

Then it happened.  October 2002.  I found a lump and swelling in the right supraclavicular nodes of my neck. It was a locoregional recurrence.  A survivor’s worst fear.

My first thought was “This is it.  A RECURRENCE.  I’m going to die.”

I was registered for, but missed, the Chicago Marathon.  Actually, I didn’t miss it totally.  I was on the sidelines to cheer and support my good friend and running partner, Bill, who will tell you he “ran for both of us” that day.

I began more treatments of chemotherapy and radiation.  I lost my hair for a second time.  My confidence in myself, in the medical world, in life, was beginning to wane.  I had a family, a household to run, a part-time job (I had since exchanged my full-time marketing work for a less stressful, more appealing part-time position at a local family-owned grocery store), gardening, car-pooling, laundry, dishes, daily life, running.  I simply did not have time for cancer again.  Mentally, physically, emotionally . . . I had too much to live for, and so much on my “to do” list.  How would I possibly have time to squeeze in cancer again and still try to fulfill a few of my own personal ambitions and dreams?

So I ran some more.

I ran during a protocol of more chemo with its side effects and I ran through the fatigue that accompanies radiation, particularly a second time around.  In retrospect, I think I felt that I had to get my miles in before my time was up.  I did a few more “races” (the term is relative when you run at a nice slow pace like I do).  I carried on.  I had a lot of support from family and friends.  The encouragement I received from my running/marathon partner was enormous.  Quite frankly, it was his unwavering friendship, supportive outlook and consistently positive notion of how my running could help me get through this, that helped sustain me during this time.  I learned that the healing benefits of doing something you love, something that has helped define you as the person you are, go way beyond just the physical aspects of the sport.  The emotional, psychological and spiritual powers that are generated in me when I run, if only for a few miles at a time, are undeniable.  I needed to feel that strength, that power, that control.

Not to sound like a broken record, but it happened again.  Another recurrence this past April 2004.  This time it was a distant recurrence.  The left supraclavicular nodes were involved, plus additional nodes in other areas of my body. This one was really big.  METASTASIS.  The cancer had invaded my bones.  To make matters worse (is that possible?), it was in my right femur.

Now I thought, “I’m dead.”

I am a runner.  Please don’t let this be in my legs.  I am (only) 44 years old.  I have too much still to do in life.  I have a husband and two beautiful children (now 12 and 14).  I have too many goals and wishes and dreams.  Plus, I’m training for a marathon in June . . .

The abridged version of the past few months goes like this:  April—biopsy and metastasis confirmation in several nodes, plus bones; surgical removal of supraclavicular lymph node (left side of neck.) May—laparoscopic surgery to remove ovaries, thereby shutting down estrogen upon which my cancer was feeding (by-product of this was that I shifted immediately into menopause). June- healing, missed the scheduled marathon, but accompanied, cheered and supported running partner as he “ran for both of us” . . . again.  Aches and pains and bizarre, unexplainable symptoms in my stomach/gastrointestinal area.  July—doubled over and vomiting, a trip to the emergency room, scans, tests, unpleasant procedures too numerous to list, resulted in another round of laparoscopic surgery plus 15 centimeters of my lower intestine removed during a small bowel resection.  There was breast cancer metastasis in my intestine.

Thank you, doctors, surgeons, nurses and medical staff.  I feel better now.

Did I mention that I also had a porta-catheter implanted in my chest for the intravenous treatments I now receive every 3-4 weeks?

Children can be a surprising, even silent, source of hope and inspiration.  Being a mother with breast cancer is challenging, yet it has certainly caused me to fight harder to get better and, as a consequence, to run more consistently.  As I have watched my children grow and mature, I have also listened to them, answered their questions, and tried to help them understand who I am.  I have used their very existence to inspire me to be strong.  I owe them hope.  I’ve learned that as difficult as it is for me to be a mother with cancer, it is probably more difficult for them to have a mother with cancer.

So, as I like to put it, I began training for the Chicago Marathon in July on the 9^th floor ofRushUniversityMedicalCenter, while pushing my IV full of fluids and nutrition around in front of me.  I walked and walked and walked, till the battery on my IV pole began beeping loudly to signal that I was nearly out of juice and needed to be plugged back into the wall.  I would overhear the nurses fondly refer to me as “here comes the runner”, or “are you beeping again?”  I even recall a couple visitors who uttered “wow, maybe you should slow down” as they tried to keep up with my walking pace.”  Eleven days was a lot of time to push that weighted pole around.

I went home.  I “took it easy”.  I began to heal.  I continued to walk.  And after a couple of days I began to jog.  Slowly, and with walking breaks.  I added the bike.  I increased my miles.  My stamina returned slowly but surely.  My running friend asked me to consider training for the marathon in October.  I’m pretty sure I told him he was nuts.  And yet, after self-determination, perseverance, motivation, diligence and hard work, I committed to the challenge of the marathon as my fuel of hope.  It was a means of battling this ominous disease.  Running helped me turn the corner on my anger and stress and discouragement and the depressed state in which I could potentially fall. Ironically, running made me feel healthy.  It made me happy.  It became my metaphor for life.

I am proud of my 26.2-mile achievements and the eight medals I have to show for them, but I am most proud of what I did on October 10^th, 2004, after the tumultuous summer I had endured.  There is hope for us survivors.  We can do seemingly impossible things when we put our minds to it.  We can rise above obstacles that face us every morning when we wake up and get out of bed.  It’s a choice we have to make.  Sometimes even that choice isn’t clear to us and we need the help of others for guidance.  We need to feel the courage within others in order to find it within ourselves.  Accepting that gift of encouragement is sometimes difficult in and of itself.

Every day we survivors can motivate and inspire others to get up.  To be somebody.  To be in the moment.  To take a chance.  To follow a dream. To be alive and thankful for another day.

And we need to remind ourselves to smile a bit along the way.

I am a runner.

The idea is to hold the camera perfectly still while it gathers the dim light, whether from the moon, stars, cars, lightning, or even street lights. The longer the shutter speed, the more light, and the greater the need for perfect stillness.

Just a few minutes exposure caught this picture of a meteor.

I like to take star trail photos when I go camping. If it is a clear night, I set up my tripod and camera with a wide-angle lens pointed toward the North Star, and get a little horizon in the shot. I go to bed and set my alarm for a couple of hours before the sun comes up. This can get you a good 6 hour exposure (depending on the season).

North Star and star trails: North Rim Grand Canyon

It’s best to avoid the moon directly in the shots, as it will ruin any star trail photo. Set the camera on manual exposure, and manual focus set for infinity, and the aperture at about 5.6 or less. Higher apertures gives finer star trails, but may not show the detail in the foreground.

To make things more interesting use a hand-held flash, or even a flashlight to paint light into the foreground. You can flash trees, buildings, or even a single flash inside your tent  will make it glow.

comet Holmes

Or, don’t use a tripod…..this were taken out the plane window, using 2-3 second exposures.   Spinning the camera or zooming the lens during that time produces additional motion effects. Have fun….