“Cactus” and Bullwinkle

Getting ready for The Fourth?


No permit needed for this “firearm. It would’ve been perfect for my hunter Dad, “Cactus.” He and his hunting buddies bragged over strong Maker’s Mark. But, NO bragging, my dad was a reMARKable marksman!

“Cactus” is a legend in my neck-of-the-woods. Particularly, the part of his 2 daughters being photographed sitting in “Bullwinkle’s” palmates. (Anyone know of the pics’ whereabouts?) This guy is so-o-o big, it takes double loading doors to maneuver him indoors! The only place we could view him was at our local pool hall.

PHOTO Daddy's Bullwinkle.

Daddy taught me how to “lead” dove for an accurate shoot (and my bag limit); how to draw my bow, and aim my arrow, for a “bull’s eye.” But, what I inherited from my dad was a love of nature.

Despite his kill-it-and-eat-it testosterone, I was tuned in to Earth, God, the Universes, and human consciousness of ALL. I’m gratefully aware of my finite self, who is infinitely a part of I AM.

Are you?

You can be more impressed with my Daniel Boone-ish dad in the “That Was Then” chapter of Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html

Animal Love

I’ve been the blessed owner of 3 dogs: a precious, loyal Miniature Schnauzer, Wolfgang (“WG”), a gorgeous, sweet Irish Setter (“Coors”—yes the beer; he and WG were stepbrothers in the 70’s), and a happy, playful Black Lab, “Shadow,” in the 90’s. (I couldn’t find a picture, but he’s highlighted in the “FYI” chapter of Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html.)

I understand canine loyalty…UNTIL they catch a “can’t-say-no” scent, decide to cause mental distress from a run-away-offering-cash-reward-for-information-of-their-whereabouts, or just to take a cooling swim in the nearby lake!

Even though they were all indoor dogs, they car-traveled, hiked, camped, and jogged with us; and, the Lab loved duck hunting, especially retrieving in the frigid water!

I’ll agree that loved/cared-for dogs will develop a steadfast loyalty to one (occasionally a second) member of their human family. I can even attest to it. The minute I stood up, WG came to attention anticipating our destination. And every day after work, he was waiting at the door to greet me. (Before Coors, WG’s feline stepbrothers, Trampas and Trooper, were associate “look-outs” in my front windows.)

But, let me tell you: my EVERY move is accompanied by my Chinchilla-furred cat, the debonair Fred Astaire—a feral I tamed. His unclipped claw’s dance taps behind me. He knows my routine so well that half the time he leads me, anxiously looking over his shoulder to make sure I don’t get lost on “our” way! He’s as much unconditional love as any dog doesn’t think about being!

iPhone Pictures 066

To squeeze in as much time as he can with me, he sits in the bathroom sink when I brush my teeth, as well as when I put on and take off my make-up; on my desk in front of my computer screen as I write and research; beside my chair when I eat, read, talk on the phone, and go to the bathroom. And, of course, my lap; that goes without saying! Your dog, and Mary’s lamb, have nothing on Fred!

Not only can he scale my fireplace to spring onto the horizontal wood beams adjoined to the outer walls, but he can jump vertically, almost 5-feet, straight up, from my countertops to the top of my kitchen cabinets…to keep a look-out while I cook.

And HONESTLY, I carefully take over-the-shoulder rear views before moving! Even after 13 years of accidentally pressing a claw or tail, he’s still bad about sitting under and behind my wheelchair.

What an unconditionally loving, loyal dat! Or, could it be “separation anxiety?”

Have you a “Big Fish” tale?

Here’s more on Fred: (an excerpt from Views From My Chariot: A Wheelchair Oddity http://booklocker.com/books/6235.html )

“He’s a Russian Blue on the outside but pure dog on the inside. He’s that rare breed, half dog/half cat, that I call a dat!

The cat part of him has sleek, satiny slate-colored fur, grass-green eyes (all three of my cats got my eyes), and exceptionally long, fang-like canines. They make it appear as if he’s always smiling. He head butts for kisses, closes his eyes in feline bliss when petted, and stands up on his hind legs to politely pat my arm for attention when I am otherwise predisposed.

The dog part comes running when I whistle, drools when his ears are rubbed, climbs my chair, cat-like, to stand show-dog-style on top of my push-handles, and rolls over on his back with front paws extended…offering up more belly for a belly rub.

Most nights he sleeps propped against my chest under my right arm, on my right shoulder or at my head.”

*The Russian Blue is a naturally occurring breed that may have originated in the port of Arkhangelsk, Russia. They are also…called Archangel Blues. It is believed that sailors took Russian Blues from the Archangel Isles to England and Northern Europe in the 1860s. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_Blue

Think Healthy Thoughts

For me, minoring in psychology was like a baby rocking on its stomach to strengthen its back muscles to walk. It was my foundation for counseling, something I see as strengthening others (myself included) to “walk” into wholeness. Becoming a certified counselor through Elijah House gave me the tools for transformationvisualization, going back to childhood (even back to the womb) to discover root problems, in order to make changes in the present.

BUT, the eyes can’t see what the heart can’t hear. I wasn’t totally there. Gracious Holy Spirit continued to illumine my darkness.

A few years after my certification, I read Dr. Thomas Verny’s book, The Secret Life of the Unborn Child. Epiphanies sparked. This was after I had released the hope of motherhood. Previously, I had re-married to have children. At forty, there was a trauma that caused premature menopause.

God chose to stubble burn that field, and replant. Then, my mind was fertile to conceive God’s idea for my healing. Dr. Verny gave me a vocabulary for my, until then, unconscious perceptions.

You know that I don’t apologize for my unconventional avenues in seeking God and wholeness. So, anything I say that ruffles your spiritual beliefs, just place them on a shelf for future reference. This has been my habit for years. Time and again, I take to blowing dust off a few. This is one of those:

With my permission, a counselor took a walk through my spirit. (He is the only person I know gifted in doing this!) It’s sort of like a guided tour. Holy Spirit showed him what I needed to know about my spirit and heart, at that time.

There are some things he saw that I still don’t understand. But, one thing he saw, or didn’t see, has been the path of God’s breadcrumbs. He couldn’t find my heart. Nope. He couldn’t find it. That was around fifteen years ago.

Thus far, there’s been a lot of demolition. I had locked my heart behind so many doors with fortified walls that even I couldn’t find it. That’s why I said Dr. Verny gave me a vocabulary for my…“unconscious perceptions:” beliefs I formed from my mother’s thoughts, insecurities, and fears…while I was in her womb.

Know that your thoughts create your reality. Their energy draws the experiences to you.

If you’re scratching your head, if this sounds “far-out,” Karol K. Truman’s Feelings BURIED ALIVE NEVER DIE…is the “TREK” for you. It’s a book illumining why feelings trigger our choices and behavior, moment to moment, day to day, year after year.

The first step is grasping your diagnosis of unconsciousness. Severity varies from person to person. A lifetime of unawareness, suppression, and denial affects us all, as does a closed heart.

When writing HOW TO BE THE BEST YOU http://booklocker.com/books/6811.html , it was through the veil of my, then, present consciousness. Ever’ so often, I pick it up to reference something I’ve forgotten. Only a year after publishing it, I’m amazed at where I was headed—to my present consciousness, light years away from then. Before the above books, I think it can offer you a place to start.

The good news: You don’t have to wonder why you don’t see the forest for the trees, just look for green. You’ll find your path. Remember: green is the color for new beginnings, life, and love.

Bamboo can grow ninety-eight inches in 24 hours! God is a God of miracles.

Bamboo Forrest in Japan

Bamboo Forrest in Japan

AFFIRM: “God of creation, Your Divine plan in my life is speeded up under grace.”

“It is the glory of God to conceal a matter, But the glory of kings is to search out a matter.” Proverbs 25:2 (NAS)

Revelation Fireworks

As you probably do, I have several Bibles with varying translations. I even have a New Testament given to my dad (with his Sunday school teacher’s signatures) on June 8, 1934, when he was 13. I also have his pocket-size New Testament issued to him as an enlisted Marine.



My first bible (or the one I still have) is an “Authorized King James Version.” It’s undated, but my handwriting says it was a Christmas gift.

The reason I don’t have a churchpresented bible is because I didn’t go up in front of the church with my Sunday school class to receive one. I felt that the only reason to be presented a bible was for a heart-changing belief, not an age or level in Sunday school. In defiance, I sat in the congregation. I digress.

The bible I’ve studied since 1978 is The Spirit Filled Life Bible, New King James Version. I can’t remember the translation I read in the late 60’s and early 70’s. I gave each new purchase away to the new hitch-hikers I picked up that week. I finally decided that if I was going to keep a bible, I’d have to switch to another version. Whatever.

I married in ‘72, wrecked in ’76, and bought this Spirit-Filled Life Bible in ’78. As you can only imagine, it is underlined, written between-the-lines, asterisk’d, has sticky pad Post-it® notes curled out from a multitude of pages, and has ink-stained dates of HS epiphanies; PLUS, it’s crammed with whatever-I-have-on-hand as book marks. I love my bible! But, I’m not good at regular “devotionals.” I can’t read a specific passage, contemplate it then, pray.

It’s rare for me to stay where I start because epiphany fireworks keep me chasing one reference after another…after another, you know; sort of like a storm chaser. The Trinity is one of my favorite “mystery clouds,” a brain-teaser, a conundrum. Try to grasp It:

God, the fountainhead, named Himself Yahweh, translated “Jehovah.” (Jehovah is believed to be a tense of the Hebrew verb “to be.”) Literally, it means, “He who causes to be.”

His eternal existence is still mind-boggling, but as a child “Who made God?” consumed my thoughts. Growing up on a farm, I understood the concept of a seed.

The Son, God’s Word—Logos—by which all was created, is the agent of Creation (yet by Holy seed is God Incarnate), reveals Father to us, and is our Redeemer.

I AM existed before time, along with His expression—His Son, along with their production manager/minister Holy Spirit.

Holy Spirit exists from the action of Father and Son’s Love. He mysteriously inspires us, mightily empowers us, and mercifully convicts us.

They were there before anything began!???

How can epiphanies/revelations/insights not spark! After all, the Bible IS The Word of God.

“For the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Hebrews 4:13 (NIV)

What’s one of your “fireworks?”