May all beings be remembered…

“Do not forget that the ashes falling from the sky are all that remains of the pine and grass and thistle and bear and coyote and deer and mouse that could not escape. Scoop some up in a sacred manner. Take it to your altar. Offer prayers for these beings. Honor their death. Pray for life. Call in rain. Remind Fire that it is full, has gobbled enough, and can rest. May all beings be safe. May all beings be loved. May all beings be remembered. May all beings be mourned.” ~ Sadee Whip

Milan the Pup

Hi Everyone – I wanted to take a few minutes to introduce Milan, my wonderful pup. I adopted Milan about a year ago. She is a Formosan Mountain Dog from Taiwan. A year and a half ago, I was looking for a rescue dog to adopt and accidentally stumbled upon Milan. I was actually looking for a Beagle, but her photo and information came up since it was believed she might have a little bit of Beagle in her. I wasn’t looking for an international adoption at all when I first set out on my search, but when I saw Milan’s videos and her photos, I knew I had to have her. Her story is that she spent the first six months of her life traveling in the mountains and streets of Taiwan with a companion puppy. They had to fend for themselves and when they were found by the rescue organization, she was very thin and malnourished. Her companion puppy even had difficulty walking from lack of care. The last photo below was taken shortly after Milan was found roaming the streets on her own. Taiwan does not have the resources to take good care of animals in shelters and for that reason, there are several rescue organizations that try to help. The dogs are brought to the United States if people can be found here who will adopt them. And I was one of those people.
I will always believe Milan and I were meant to be together. I’ve had lots of dogs in my life, but I’ve never had a dog so perfectly suited for a photographer. I found out very early on that Milan looks forward to the times we spend together putting some goofy costume on her and then she’ll sit very still while I take photographs. I take photos of her every day, but I don’t post them here on the blog. I share them with family and friends. In the last couple days I started a Facebook fan page for Milan and wanted to share the link in case you want to follow along. She will surely make you smile and knowing that I’m able to spread a little bit of happiness in this world right now makes me happy as well. The link to her page is: 
Hope all of you are doing as well as can be. We are all praying for better tomorrows. Love to all of you. – Carol



God, the hummingbird is waiting
while the butterfly drinks,

and I don’t think
that the hummingbird is kind,
or patient or irritated,

or any of the many
of my feelings when I wait.

This morning
I pray for everyone who waits —
one for a COVID-19 test result,
one to re-schedule a cancelled flight,
while trying not to touch
anything in the airport,
one finishing a job interview,
one sitting at the restaurant table
with two menus
and only one chair filled.

I pray for the family with hospice,
the college freshman
wondering whether to signup
“in person” or virtual,
for everyone in the courtroom
as the jury returns,

for women with the swelling
under the heart
of the third trimester,
and parents who listen
for a late-night cardoor-bang
to announce an adolescent’s return.

I think about the feeder,
and pray for each one of these,

that when life pauses,
and they hover —
they feel your updraft under their wings.


~~ Maren C. Tirabassi ~~

Walking during a time of social distancing and finding a beautiful moment…

The words below are written by my friend, Doug…posted by him on Facebook.  I asked permission to re-post those words here because it seems that so many of us are searching for whatever bits of beauty we can find at this time.

“I have been taking longer and longer walks. The weather today is warm, but with a steady breeze that makes it pleasant. So after lunch I took a walk, just to be out and about.

Restless, curious, I abandoned my usual routes and decided to cross over the main street near our house and do some exploring. This rewarded me with a lovely neighborhood of winding, interlocked streets where older ranch-style homes, all of which were well maintained, sat in manicured lawns like dowagers blissfully unaware of their advanced age.

My stride past these homes was brisk, purposeful; but then something brought me to a halt.

It was music. The soft tones of a piano’s lower keys came to my ears like a gossamer hitchhiker on the wind. I had to stop and listen. The notes were slow, sometimes hesitant; it was obvious I was not hearing a recording but rather a live performance.

While competent, the player was no maestro. However, that didn’t matter. Man or woman, who cares. Alone? Playing for someone? It really made no difference. I only knew that a person was in the house to my left playing a tune on the piano. But for some reason I had the distinct impression they were alone, playing solely for themselves. That was my version of the story. Who knows what the truth is.

But in my version, they were alone. Or so they thought. Because unknown to them, there I was outside on the sidewalk listening. Appreciating. Smiling at the vision expressed by the tune’s composer; at the skill of the craftsmen who had labored to build the piano; at the ability, the ‘ear’, of the last technician who had tuned it; and at the person now playing it — likely for their own comfort judging by the soulful nature of the tune being played — smiling at how all that combined creative energy had come together to stop a random stranger, me, in his tracks.

It was not so much an interruption of my walk, as it was an interlude. A moment of comfort for the anonymous player and the random stranger who would likely never meet in person. But for a brief moment we were linked, as every person is linked: by the invisible thread of our common humanity.

Today, for me, that thread was vibrating like a piano string. I could not help but experience an harmonic response. And the remainder of my walk was lighter for it…”