Whole Plant Cannabis Oil ... A Kid's Best Friend?

Update from Mykayla's step-dad!!!!

"November 18 at 8:21pm ·
So proud of my little warrior Mykayla. She has dutifully gone to her oncologists appointments over the past nearly 5 years with little to no complaining. She has succeeded on this path above and beyond all expectations, I know we give cannabis a lot of credit, but the credit is truly due to her, her will, her fight, her personal power.

She has taught me a lot about humanity and it has been a blessing and honor of mine to accompany her on this walk.

Today her blood counts were completely normal, just like you and I, this is something to celebrate-

#givethanks #Hero #fighter #BraveMykayla ✊💯🙏✌👐😀🏅"

*****Bravery at any age.


Illness is a part of life.  A part of the part that states that life isn't fair.  And illness—at any age—is an unwelcome illustration of Mama Gump’s words wherein “Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re gonna get”.  When a loved one is diagnosed, we always do the math in our heads, trying to figure out if their age is the typical age to get this or that disease.  But anymore, adult diseases now belong to the young too.  Cancers and tumors, Epilepsy and seizures … these are all-age venues now.  No mercy left for the young.

I know very few parents who buried babies in their lifetime.  My cousin Trevor is one, and a couple I was related to through marriage make the second.  I cried for hours the day they buried Jake.  My tears more for the family than for the wee angel in that wee casket.  As my mom told me years and years ago, the funeral service and the wake are more for those who have survived than for those who have passed.  The smaller the casket, the more profound that sentiment.

We all give to childhood diseases when we can.  That Leukemia box at the beer store always gets my change.  Hospitals like CHEO benefit from countless donations from people who have lost a child or simply loved a child lost.  Generosity flows freely to charities for childhood diseases.  We can all agree:  No parent should have to bury their child.

Yet I am filled with hope as I write this.  And not a moment too soon, as my tissue is wearing thin & wet.  I just met a little girl named Mykayla Comstock otherwise known as “Brave Mykayla”.  You can GOOGLE, TWEET or FACEBOOK  that name to put a face to it.  What you’ll find is a nine year old who was diagnosed July 14^th 2012 with intermediate risk T-Cell acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.  A big word for a nasty disease.

Here’s why I feel so hopeful.  Mykayla’s Leukemia is in remission.  She and her illness now serve a greater purpose of showing the world that Modern Western Medicine can successfully team up with Natural and Alternative Healthcare measures, as well as using food as medicine.  Her enormous and heart-warming smile is testament to this, because you can clearly see how healthy she now feels.

Mykayla is Oregon’s youngest Medical Cannabis patient.  And no … she does not smoke the herb.  But she eats it mixed in Banana Bread, and she drinks the juice from its crushed leaves in her smoothies.  She also takes a very concentrated form of Whole Extract Cannabis Oil and, as explained in the link provided above, it all “helps her to mitigate the debilitating effects of the Chemotherapy protocol.” In other words, it lets her feel human and it protects her fragile body from the damages and the side effects of the chemotherapy.   

It is crucial to note and understand that within hours of beginning this concentrated Oil treatment, Mykayla got the munchies.  Yep … her appetite and smile came home, and all traces of Leukemia took-a-hike within a mere seven days.

Childhood diseases are the ones that make us pull out all the stops.  If it will help the child; we will do it.  We’ll spend every dollar, pray every prayer, and promise all for the life of a sick kid.  When a child’s life is at stake, the sacred cow must be sent packin’ because no life is as sacred or innocent as that of a child.  Clearly, we as a society need to legalize and study the Cannabis plant.

So this got me to investigating other examples of childhood diseases being helped by this oft misunderstood plant.  After meeting Mykayla and seeing her health so improved, and reading about several other kids who attribute their survival to Cannabis, I had to know more.  Brave Mykayla is NOT the only child being helped by this illegal plant.  The following is an incomplete but tear-jerking list of children who are either being helped, healed, or cured with the Cannabis Plant and the cornucopia of healthcare products it provides.

It is my hope, that after reading through the following list of angels who are given relief by a plant that is still illegal, you will see that the prohibition of Cannabis is actively harming children like these every single day.  In fact, this post could have gone both ways, for sadly there is another list that needs to be compiled.  That is the list of children who have died while our Governments try to decide if a plant that has never killed anyone, is safe enough to legalize.  

Please do your part to share the information that backs up the fact that Cannabis is medicine.

Logan Ewell, Michigan--B Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia.  Cannabis oil successfully manages side effects from Chemotherapy treatments.  Read more HERE

Charlotte Figi, Colorado--Dravet’s Syndrome.  Cannabis Oil reduced her grand mal seizures from up to 300 a week, to less than one per week.  Read more HERE

Landon Riddle, Colorado--Leukemia.  In remission for 19 months... 13 months of which he only received Cannabis Oil. Keep up to date HERE

The Miracle Baby, US--enormous centrally-located inoperable brain tumor. Oil given on soother twice daily. Tumor reduced to such a point that in four months the tumor was gone.  Rejoice with me HERE

**NEW ADDITION !!** :-)  Liam McKnight, Constance Bay, On. Cda-- Dravet syndrome.  While plant cannabis oil stopped his 60+ daily seizures, leaving him seizure free for the first 10 days after treatment.

***If you have any examples or info about any other angels being saved by our plant, please leave a comment below and their name and a link will be happily added.

One Love We Are.


The youngest and by far the cutest Cannabis activist I encountered at the Champs Expo in Toronto.

Brave Mykayla .... kickin' Cancer's butt on the daily.

Gall Bladder Emancipation ... Feeling Muted

Up until seven days ago, I was a hospital virgin.  Other than the day I was born, and two other uneventful visits to the ER, I had never really seen the inner workings of any hospital.  As strange as this may sound, I was really excited to simply experience this new thing.

Last Friday was the day.  And if I had to summarize, the last week would be something like this:

Friday:  Barfy barf barf ... nausea sucks and anesthetic always makes me barf.  Thank Goddess for intravenous Gravol.
Saturday:  My entire surgical team are ROCK STARS.  Pain was minimal.  Movement brought on pain, but not severe by any means.  My hubby is a ROCK STAR when it comes to nursing me back to health.
Sunday:  I am a ROCK STAR.
Monday:  Sleep is my friend.
Tuesday to Today:  Let the healing itch begin ... and continue.

Rewind seven days.  The Out patients' or Day surgery area of the Belleville hospital was lonely that day when I arrived about 9:40a.m. but the preoperative machine was in working order, nurses buzzing around.  If I could get a message to all of those nurses, I would apologize for staring.  But truly, as a person laying on a stretcher, you are the most interesting entertainment we have.  And personally, I just love sitting and watching you.  I couldn't help but wonder if you all enjoy your jobs.  Do you know that you are a crucial spoke in the wheel of humanity?

I was undressed.  I was weighed.  I was given the Anesthetist's personal pre-op cocktail of Lyrica, Celebrex, and two Tylenol.  Within a mere thirty minutes, I was loopified.  And this made the short walk into the pristine, shiney operating room, very interesting to say the least.  Upon entering the actual operating room, I was met with sterile equipment, gloved hands, and many sets of smiling eyes beneath dark blue surgical masks.  I felt confident and in good hands.  Before I went under, I was asked two final qualifying and clarifying questions:

What is my name?  What are we doing today?  No one told me there'd be a quiz!  I aced it ... loopy and all. Next came the wonderful oxygen-rich mask, and a calming voice telling me to take four deep breaths. Another calming  voice telling me to nod when I feel like I'm sinking into the bed.  And that's all she wrote. It was lights out.

I've heard horror stories.  You've heard horror stories.  But I can say that my first surgical experience was quite awesome.  To be honest, I wasn't so much worried about the procedure itself, my two older sisters had already had it done successfully.  I was more concerned about something else.  You see, I was completely honest about my Cannabis use.  And that scared the shit out of me. But the modern-day ME knows this is the only medicine for my biology, so it was important to me that it was taken seriously.  I feared that it wouldn't be taken seriously.  And I feared how I would react to that.  We in the "movement" think everyone sees what we see.  But this is so not true.  For every medical professional who knows Cannabis is medicine, there are an equal number who do not.  They're not taught about it.  Expecting medical professionals to know about Cannabis is silly.  Any education they get is on their own terms, time, and their own dime.  Ain't nobody got time for that in a 40+ hour work week of saving lives.  Because of this fact, I was and still am ready and willing to answer any questions any medical professional has about my use of this plant.

All in all, I wasn't sure how much respect my medicine would garner me.  Would they be offended?  Would they too give me some silly asinine joke about the munchies?  You can imagine my relief upon realizing that my whole team put the capital P in the word Professional.  In fact, I was advised that I could have partaken before coming in by one nurse, because as she stated, "that too must be kept at normal and regular levels in the body like other medicines."  Amazing.

This seems like a natural segue into post-operative medications and pain control.  I had a surgical consult almost a month ago during which time I briefly touched on my use of Cannabis as medicine.  Unfortunately, I let my fear and the fact that Cannabis is illegal to limit my discussion on the subject.  If I could re-wind I would explain more fully all of the ways in which I ingest. From smoking to taking Cannabis infused olive oil in caplets, to using salve made with cannabis infused coconut oil, it's now all that I use for many many ailments.  This ailment was no different.

Nausea.  Is there a more basic urge than to eject the contents of one's stomach?  And what power that diaphragm possesses!  It's crazy to think that for the most part, nausea still has medical professionals stumped at times.  Smoking Cannabis seemed the only logical option for me that first night after my surgery.  For truly what good is a pill when I know I'm going to barf?  Yes ... there are other suppository options out there, but even they can have unwanted side effects.  Within three small puffs, my nausea hit the road so I could finally eat something.  Insert munchie joke here :-)

One very crucially important thing to me throughout this whole thing has been my aversion to Opiates.  My apres-surgery drip was only saline and gravol.  I felt a certain gush of pride when I heard one nurse tell the other nurse that I was "dry".  But I was sure that I didn't want that shit in my body!  I didn't want the high.  I didn't want the nausea.  I didn't want the constipation.  And I personally did not need any of it.  Years of intermittent stomach upsets has awarded me a high pain tolerance.  By 11 pm on that first night after the emancipation, I realized that I hadn't even taken a pain pill!  I honestly found there was no need since as late as 9 pm every cell in my body was still vibrating at a higher frequency, the anesthetic remnants still clearly felt. I was given a script for Tramadol but I let my fear of nausea sway me, and I chose to fill a few gelatin caps with Cannabis goodness to ease me into sleep.

Pain.  It truly does suck.  Long term pain especially.  But for post-operative pain, this has taught me that pain can be a tool.  For me, pain only came when I moved.  So heavily medicating myself for pain that I could control seemed illogical.  No medication is without it's side effects.  Tramadol contains codeine ... a known colon blocker ... so my use of those has been sparingly to say the least.  In one week, I've taken 7.5 Tramadol and likely as many as 60 cannabis caplets for the pain. This experience has shown me that pain control does not necessarily equal healing. Yet many of us seem to think it does.  In my opinion, that wee misunderstanding is a recipe for disaster ... and the disaster is already happening with stat after stat proving and re-proving that more of us are addicted to legal pharmaceutical pain killers than are addicted to illegal street drugs.

In the end, now that it's all done and my life revolves around itchy incisions and sticky steri-strips, I feel as though fate had a thing or two to do with connecting me with my healing team at the Belleville hospital.  I felt my surgeon's genuine goo .... whoa ... wait a minute.  I am an idiot.  I trusted that they listened.  I trusted that all seven of them listened to me, and not a one of them did.  I just googled Tramadol.  It's a fukking opiate.

So ... let me get this straight.  If I were to go to any Emerg in Ontario asking for an opiate pain med, I would be immediately black-listed as a pill-seeker.  Yet I tell nine medical professionals, and write it down on the pre-op forms that I specifically did not want an opiate and they ignored me.

This is especially upsetting to me because I understand Opiate addiction ... I lived with a recovering addict for several months.  I saw how wretched her poor body became ... and that was on Methadone ... the thing that's supposed to help addicts!  I saw the pain she went through on days that she missed her drink.  That could be me right now had I had any issues in the past with Opiates!  And they don't have my medical records so they have no way of knowing!

So ... profit ... frequent flyer miles ... trips to Jamaica ... smooth writing pens ... ski trips to Aspen ... just why did this surgeon ignore my wishes?  Does the entire Belleville Hospital have a contract with Janssen Pharmaceuticals to give every out patient Tramadol?   Why did she ignore me?  I'm not even a doctor and yet if I had told me that I was having this surgery, yet didn't want any opiates, I would immediately suspect past addiction issues.  Yet nine medical professionals didn't?  WTF??

Is the Medical industry actively making addicts out of us?

I am officially verklempt.

Define Canada~ Disconnect In Progress

I live in what I consider to be the best country on this little blue planet.  I feel National pride like it's a seventh sense.  In 2010, Canada hosted the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, British Columbia.  I was a sobbing friggin' mess from the start of the opening ceremonies til the end and beyond.  I've even re-watched certain parts like the poem by Shane Koyczan titled "We Are More" and been overcome with tears.  Check it out HERE. Whenever I start to feel like giving up and accepting the nonsense in the world, in my country, I remember all the ways that we are more. 

There is some serious injustices going on in my country.... as in every country.  And there's a very good chance that my rantings do absolutely nothing to push change.  I've been told by loved ones to just accept certain things.  Like the fact that by the time certain Members of Parliament turn 90, we will have paid them 1.9 million dollars in pension.  I’ve told that to people, and they are choked.  Does that not seem excessive to you?  While the heroes who fought in the trenches with rotting feet and broken souls no longer get allowances for special dietary measures or adult diapers.  No money for the people who fought for our freedom ... literally.

One of the things that I'm most proud of about Canada is that we have a legal Medical Cannabis program where people who have proven the need with their doctor, are allowed to legally ingest this plant.  We would all do well to further our understanding that man-made, chemical medicines have only been around for 100 years.  The death toll from them is climbing like the sea levels, yet most hospitals and many Doctors would rather shove you full of those pills, than accept your use of this plant.  Does death toll truly mean so little to them?  Many likely don’t even believe this is true.  Though Health Canada states HERE on their website that "there has been no documented evidence of death exclusively attributable to cannabis overdoes to date".

One such Legal Cannabis Patient named Lisa 'Mamakind' Kirkman is the inspiration for this post.  I used to just stew about stuff like this, but now I write.  Lisa has been dealt a mixed bag of health issues, and almost all cause pain and discomfort.  One of those issues is from a gastric bypass that leaves her missing much of her intestinal tract.  Therefore most oral medications don't work for her.  Thank heavens she lives in a country with a legal cannabis program.  Her Doctors, her Pain Specialist, and Lisa have decided that the best if not only medication that works for her is vaporized cannabis.  Isn't it great that she can deal with her ailments without potential addiction and in a way that is virtually harmless? Vapor is not smoke. Think asthma inhaler.

Further to my bragging about my incredibly awesome country, because of that legal cannabis program in which Lisa takes part, she used to vaporize whenever she stayed in hospital.  In several Alberta hospitals, Lisa was allowed to use her legal, recommended, and Health Canada approved medicine.  Until November 2013.  What changed?  Great question!  We'd all like to know this.  Lisa wants to know so badly that she's spent the last month at the Calgary Court House trying to get a Judicial Review of what the heck happened.

Of course, there's more to this story.  Lisa is a journalist by trade, she knows every story has more than one side.  Much of what happened doesn't make me proud of my country though.  Or at least not very proud of the Alberta Health Services.  Hospitals are where medicine is.  Health Canada says Cannabis can be legally used as medicine by some.  Why can't Lisa use her medicine inside the hospital in Alberta?  And why the change in rules?

Now the really infuriating part to me, is that she is very welcome to admit herself into the hospital but she must leave her legally approved and recommended form of medicine at home and accept their opiates.  Opiates are synthetic heroin.  For any of you who are reading this thinking that she likely just wants to get high and do it legally, can understand that if she wanted to feel high, she could be higher than Johnny Cash on a bender.  How is that okay?  How is any of this okay?  Our hospitals would really rather have people addicted to Opiates than allow them to use the medicine that the Canadian Government and Health Canada and two Medical Doctors, one of which is a Pain Specialist have said she can legally use? 

So there sits Lisa at the Calgary Court House.  She sets up camp every day about ten am. She has her vaporizer running beside her, her herbal medicine heating up.  Laptop and small hand drawn sign stating:  I NEED A CIVIL LAWYER.  Thank heavens the Calgary Court House lets her vaporize inside, while she wastes no time taking on Justice.  Funny isn't that?  In Alberta, it's allowed where laws are made; banned where medicines are.

I just learned about the Queen's Bench Amicus Project, which Lisa visits daily.  It's like this program was designed just for this situation!  It's a pro-bono program of volunteers, giving better access to justice to those without a lawyer.  Check it out HERE.  From every angle the "Due Process" drains Lisa's energy, as day after day she is turned away from the QB Amicus because of conflicts of interest.  So many of the volunteer lawyers have already worked with AHS, the people Lisa's case is against.

So, as I mentioned above, I'm a very proud Canadian.  Maybe I'm more in love with the view from afar than the view from within.  I love how the world sees us.  I mean, Canada is so great, that tourists from other countries have been known to sew our flag on their bags to ensure respect while abroad. Every day I read updates from Lisa from many provinces away from me.  And every day I think that we are more than this!  In the midst of all of this, and to further confuse my national pride, we read HERE that the Sherbrooke University Hospital in Quebec just ok'd vaporizer use in hospital for legal cannabis patients.  When I explain the situation to others, they don't believe me, can't believe this is happening.  It's a clear violation of human rights.

We are the country of thank you's and world renowned Peace keeping missions. When we start offering more compassion to other countries and their citizens than we offer to our own, a disconnect has happened. And when we citizens sit back and allow that to happen, a break happens.

I want to know why this Canadian citizen is having her human rights, her health, and her future stomped on.  Don't you?

Stay up to date with this ongoing battle on facebook HERE.

Lisa has found representation with the firm Elias Facundo LLP.  I thanked them on their facebook page HERE if you want to follow along.

Give Lisa a shout out and some positive words.  Power to the Canadian People ... we are more than this!
And finally, if you can donate any funds to help pay legal fees, you can do so HERE

Life as an Unsolvable Equation.

When I have visits with family or rarely seen friends, I realize how much I bitch.  I do.  I bitch about shit all the time.  I read the news ticker, and pffft at what is considered news.  Solange Knowles turned 28 the other day.  Who the fuk is she?  And why do I care?

Drumming.  That's what my friend-in-the-know Kell says.  Drumming to distract.


So I had a visit with a girlfriend last night.  So good to catch up.  We discussed so many things.  Personal, family, municipal, countrywide ... we covered much of it.  My girlfriend works in a detox clinic.  She is a crucial spoke in the wheel of humanity.  I don't know much about her workday.  But I don't need to know that, to know that my fellow citizens are becoming addicts without fault of their own.  Many Doctors are actively making addicts out of so many of us by giving out scripts for Heroin.  A friend was having her wisdom teeth out and was told beforehand that she'd be given a script for Percocet..... Oxycontin (synthetic heroin) + Acetamenophen.  When an anti-inflammatory would work fine.  I'm getting my gall bladder out tomorrow morning.  I will be getting Tramadol not opiates.  And I'll be taking Cannabis infused Olive Oil that I make in my own kitchen ... in my 'lab' as my mom once joked.  This Lab is for addiction free health!

But back to the bitching.  Why do I do it?  Because I see injustice every day.  I see fakers in positions of power.  I see lies believed.  Stories fabricated.  I see facts ... then I see lies.  I see logic ... and then I see the actions of a majority Government with a hard-on for Oil.  I see money spent to warn our youth in the form of anti-Trudeau/anti-pot ads, when I should see warnings and education about Meth, Crack, Cocaine, and shit like that.  But your kids won't learn about that from our leaders, more likely from their older friends. Our leaders want them to beware of the Cannabis plant~the one with no death toll~ so they can win the next election.

I see society hypnotized with this belief that the business starters and the economy is all that really matter. While the people who stand as the forefront of those businesses are made to simply be glad they have a job. Do they forget how easily that forefront could ruin their business?  I as your minimum wage worker can make or break your business.  Seems like I may be more important than you realize eh?

I'm rambling here ... what's my point?

I'm beginning to see the enemy.  And yes there are so many.  Capitalism being the biggest in my mind.  But I'm seeing the enemy for you and I.  I'm seeing the enemy for society.  The enemy is the status-quo.  I've been told by loved ones to just accept things.  I've been told that my bitching only harms me.  A large part of me laughs at that thought.  Why vote then?  As it is, it seems asinine to me that we as a country don't even really decide what issues are dealt with.  We rely on Members of Parliament to do this.  And then we vote on those issues.  But what about all of the other issues out there?  Simply because the MP's don't see it as an issue, does not mean it isn't important to many and deserving of our attention.

The status quo is comfort.  The status quo makes accepting fukkery the norm.  Ain't nobody got time for that!  Life is short!  I'm already 40!  But the status quo tells me to get a job, pay my bills, vote for one of the pre-chosen issues .... rinse and repeat.  In my mind ... that's not why we're here.

"It's all progress ...." a thought that came to me this morn.  As each moment expires into the next, it is progress.  We cannot NOT progress forward.  Or can we?  The status quo hates progress.  The status quo hates change.  When we sit back and accept the nonsense and bite on our tongues, the status quo laughs.

What many don't see--and maybe I don't show--is that within and around this bitching is the desire to do better, to find the better way.  Progress states that there is almost always a better way.  They say that every process in life can be written mathematically.  The status quo would see us with an unsolvable equation ... one that merely goes on and on into perpetuity.  I bitch to solve it.  I bitch to solve for 'x'.

It's hard to believe this considering how much I used to hate Algebra!

Imprinting ... it's how we're made. Deal with it.

What we experienced yesterday, affects who we are today.

Here are some of my own personal examples:

As a child, my parents were hyper-vigilant about quiet when I went to sleep.  Not sure how, with two older sisters living in a 150 year old house.  But they did.  So today, I must sleep with earplugs.  Mom thinks it's ridiculous and likely unhealthy, but if I don't and a dog barks five blocks away, I'll hear it and wake up.

Weekly Catholic Mass was a routine from my childhood, making it a big deal.  A spoke in the wheel so-to-speak.  We used to play mass at home and communion was clearly the most exciting part.  We'd take turns being the Priest~ almost a sacrilege since we were girls ~offering one another the "Body of Christ".  We even tried to make the Eucharist out of bread.  So hard to find unleavened bread in those days.  They were poofy white circular sacraments made with the rim of a shot glass.  So much tastier than the real thing.  We'd even try to smush them down with the palms of our hands.  So ... to this day when I give a treat to any dog in my family, in my mind I say .... "Body of Christ".

In that same vein, the smell of a church with it's incense and stale air, makes me feel somewhat verklempt~ overcome with emotion~to this day.  It feels familiar, so I feel comfort.  It feels authoritative, so I feel anxious.  The enormous paintings of the 'Stations of the Cross' make me sad.  The humanitarian in me remembers feeling so confused as a child.  The power and glory intermingled with brutality and death.  But all for me and my sins ... so I can be forgiven.  No wonder why I've had issues with guilt.

Today, I fear heights because of when I fell off of the wood pile.  I can still find the scar at my hairline.  I don't like amusement park rides, possibly because of the time my big sisters made that teeter-totter out of a ladder and a lawn-mower.  I was all dressed up to go out with my folks ... with blood-droplets on my gown.

My folks never fought in front of me.  So it's never felt right to scream.  My Dad never hunted, so I forever saw the season through those other eyes.  I cannot recall a time when we didn't have a pet.  Sometimes several different kinds.  So to this day, I feel absolutely desolate without one too.

I grew up in a small community, related to more than half.  As children we were reminded and possibly molded to be kind and friendly children who make eye contact and respond when spoken to.  Because of this, I have a very hard time with the chit-chat.  It's possible I do it too much.  Maybe that's why I love Facebook ... chit chats 24/7.  If only I could get paid to chew the fat.

And then we mustn't forget the other ways that upbringing molds us.  You have to pull out for a more macro view to see this.  Rather than an imprint being directly related to a situation, we're imprinted by other more broad things like customs and belief systems, and by the words used and the ways in which arguments were ended, fights broken up.  As my sister Kelly reminded me many months ago, I have always been about what's FAIR.  I've always seen a sort of par system needed.  Inequality in all it's shades of the rainbow has never seemed right to me.

So I can only surmise that mom and dad were very much about that too.  In fact, I know this is true, because I see it in how they interact with my niece, their only grandchild.  The only game we really play as a family is Crokinole.  Do you remember that game?  Many a fingernail was perpetually marked from too many Crokinole games.  Well ... rules are rules.  And there have been times when my niece has taken extra turns, or attempted to bend the rules in some way.  My dad is all over that shit.  In fact, he refused to continue to play once last year.  It was kind of a big deal.  Tears abound.  And yes ... that may be one of those defining moments that really stands out for Maddie.  That one action by my Dad ~her Papa could direct her passion in life.  I think that's a great inspiration! Maybe she'll be a lawyer though I really hope not.  Maybe a Politician. Maybe my niece will be Prime Minister of Canada and will finally bring back true socialism and the real united one love.

I see the future in her eyes.  And though we all want to shield our children from their lives and all the shit that it includes, we can't.  We shouldn't.  For every single experience~ the good and the bad ~affects the outcome of our lives.  Due to this fact, I am SO DIFFERENT now that I spent time off the rails, learning lessons, seeing truths.  It changed me to be who I am today.  And who I am NOW is the happiest I've ever been before.  I am the most content now ... content with knowing that I live what I feel, I speak what I know, I live how I love.  That may be more important to some of us than it is to others.  For me it's the only way.

I am imprinted with memories, experiences.  And so are you.  They are the recipe ingredients, the ingredient list, the make up of the contents therein.   They are you.  And this effectively takes the pressure off of you. Live today.  Give yourself a break.  And don't forget to smell some roses along the way.

So Long and Thanks For All the Pollen!

The Bees are dying and the causes are still in debate.  As if it matters at this point.  We’re doing the same thing with Climate Change and pollution, still discussing or denying while action of any kind is--they say-- imminently imperative. Keeping us confused. But unlike Climate Change, there is no argument who is to blame for this loss of a crucial spoke in the food source wheel.  Do we understand completely just how wobbly and unsteady that wheel will be without that spoke … that group of species we call pollinators?  No clue at all.  And it’s already happening right here at home.  Paintbrushes are being purchased and used for pollinating apple orchards; instead of being used to paint them.

From what I have read, Bee keepers were noticing bees coming back to the hives in early spring carrying pollen.  Yet the season was too early for that to naturally happen.  Upon further inspection, it’s been confirmed that what was sticking to their furry legs and baskets wasn’t pollen at all, but pesticide residue.  Like a modern-day Trojan horse, the pollinators are unknowingly bringing the enemy into their hives and nests.  The experts and the bee-keepers are in some agreement that a common pesticide ingredient called Neonicotinoids is the culprit.  And then there is a subsequent viral infection.  Or is it the infection that makes them more susceptible to the pesticide?  I don’t care.  I really don’t.  What I care about is that there are actions we can take now that would benefit all of the pollinators and yet we’re allowing Capitalism to stop us. 

Profitability, the sacred economy, and our obsession with ‘weed-free’ landscapes lets us justify the sale of pesticides and fertilizers that are most definitely infecting the water table, sterilizing soils, and off-setting millions of balancing ecosystems every single day.  Whatever will Capitalism do when there is nothing naturally-grown for it to sell us?  It’s like they don’t realize that the soil AND the sun--two of the three components for growth—are free!  I can’t wait until they realize how much more expensive a shipment of Apples will be when they have to grow them hydroponically and pay for the photosynthesis!  I mean, when the soil is officially sterilized of all living organisms, nothing will grow in it.  And there is no spray Mons@nto can create that will give it that spark known as the “God-particle” that instigates germination.  Like Austin Powers’ mojo … it’s an unexplainable force that allows a seed to sprout.  We humans believe we can control that.  So easy to say while it’s happening.  But when it’s gone, what will we do?  It is then that we will see how little gold truly means in the scope of life?

In so many ways we've abused this creature, myself most definitely included.  I've always been a tree-hugging nature-lover, but I've allowed others to influence my actions at times where it concerns our insects.  We demonize them.  We swat at them.  We share recipes of natural bee killers.  That seems like such an oxymoron to me now.

 Tell me, if you could speak "Bee", what would you say to they who remain hanging by a thread?  Are you with me at the point where you too will gladly implore them to stay? I would sing Van Morrison’s “Baby please don’t go … baby please don’t go-o” over and over to them.

If it were you running the show, would you beg them to stay living?  I would, and it would go something like this: 

“Dear Pollinators:  I hereby promise to invite you to all of the picnics this summer.  I’ll bring you homemade jelly too!  No longer will you be ostracized simply because people misunderstand you.  I’ll start telling them about you more.  I’ll make them see in you what I see in you.  We’ll make that buzzing sound comforting and good!  They won’t get so nervous when you come around.  I know you can smell their fear- I know those pheromones freak you out.  We can do this!  I know we can.  Bees … please don’t go!

I’ll leave room for you in the shed and in any abandoned buildings, feel free to set up camp.  I‘ll speak with my municipal leaders about controlling harmful pesticide use.  Grassroots all the way!  I know I’m not alone, we can change pesticide laws.  Just hold on guys, give us a chance, bees … please don’t go!

I’ll even talk to the Bee-keepers about the supplemental feed packs they give you.  You deserve Organic all the way!  What good is supplemental Bee feeding, if we’re feeding you GMO crap?  I will implore our Government to subsidize Bee-keeping and all of the products they use.  There are things we can do to help you.  We can do this.  I love you so … Bees … please don’t go.

I’m going to make Pure Raw Honey the newest new black.  I’ll pull out all of the info, all of the recipes, all of the anecdotal cures.  I’ll take selfies of me doing honey facials … facials all around!  I’ll tell virtual strangers about the Honey you make from the Tea Tree flower … I hear that honey kills MRSA!  Bees … I’ll do more I will … just please bees … please don’t go!

I’ll plant flowers on my balcony so you can stop by.  Basil flowers just for you!  I’ll tell my friends to make bee boxes and bee baths too!  We can co-exist.  We just need time.  I know we can adapt.  Bees … please don’t go!”

I’d tell them all of this and more.  Whatever more I could find.  I’d broadcast it in every country.  No Pollinator left behind.  No worker Bee forgotten.  No Queen without a team.

 Yet I know that some will survive and many will most definitely adapt.  Their sting will likely kill us and their honey will be like battery acid.  It’s a crazy thing what happens to nature when it’s pushed to the edge of existence.  Adaptation is not always pretty.  I fear this one will be no different.

You see, who done it … doesn’t matter.  We just need to act on it now.  Please stop using harmful pesticides on your lawns.  Get to know bee-friendly flowering weeds and plant them wherever you can.  

Canada’s own David Suzuki has some suggestions here in this link.

We can do this people.  I know we can.  Look him in the eye ... can the Pollinators count on you?

Your Past Mistakes Do Not Define You!

Life is such a conundrum sometimes.  We can all look back and see our own individual mistakes. They stand out to us more than they do to others.  Another example of 'the human condition'.  We'll fight for our own survival yes, but many won't defend themselves in the day to day.  We forgive others;  yet refuse to forgive ourselves.  Or refuse to accept forgiveness from others, holding on to some belief in penance. There's some blame that could be laid here.  Societal influence and all.  But we all just do the best we can, with the tools and faculties that are given to us.  Our individual life experiences are the hand that gives.

I've made mistakes.  I spent about a year lost.  Many years before that meandering.  But for one whole year, I put myself through several different stages of hell.  And they all seemed fun at the time.

So I sit here, talking to you.  Whoever the you are that read this.  I marvel at the countries my google stats show me.  Hello there you ... in Ukraine, Brazil, Romania, Bulgaria, Spain and oh so many more.  I hope you know we are all one love.  I myself, didn't used to know this.  It's not until I spent that year off the rails of reality that I learned this.  Unconnected and the only one to feel the way I felt ... struggling to see the point ... and being fooled at every turn.

I spoke for a while last night with my neighbor Alex.  He's the one that said he believes every religion to be VALID.  That immediately resonated with me.  As did many other things he said.  Alex is stuck in this puddle of re-living his past mistakes over and over.  Regret.  Who knew it could be avoided. I want Alex to know peace.  I want him and you to know that our mistakes are merely experiences.  We as a society put the labels of good or bad on those experiences.  But for the most part, in my opinion there really is no good or bad.  There just is.  'IS' being the reaction that we get when we experience life.

What I know is this:  words and memories hold power.  Memories affect our thoughts.  And our thoughts affect our reality.  When you're constantly regretting your past mistakes, you're gonna miss out on the ride. My friend Francis is all about correct thinking as therapy.  He sees this too.  He was the gateway to me learning about this.  All through Facebook --take that FB haters!  Peter McWilliams is another soul who knew the secret behind correct thinking.  His words live on here to inspire others like myself.

"Chronic remorse, as all the moralists are agreed is a most undesirable sentiment.  If you have behaved badly, repent, make what amends you can, and address yourself to the task of doing better next time. On no account brood over your wrong-doing.  Rolling in the muck is not the best way of getting clean."
~Aldous Huxley

Profound.  Found that two years ago.  After I read it, and let it sink in, it felt like a boulder was lifted off of my shoulders.  This quote is in the 'forward' of Huxley's newer versions of "A Brave New World".  I never read the 'forword' as a rule. I had read the entire book likely two years earlier and missed that little tidbit.  Makes ya wonder about timing ... and whether we even have control of that. I mean, what made me read the 'forward' this time?

Pretend we're liquid.  You and I and every everybody is liquid in a petri dish with several million compounds swirling around.  The compounds are our experiences.  How we were brought up.  What your family members said or did to you.  And how you yourself perceived those actions.  Because lets face it, it's not often the same.

You can't really change those compounds.  They are you.  I mean, I guess you could have a lobotomy, but that ain't legal yet.  Every single one of your past life experiences is in there--the ones you remember and the ones you don't.  Now imagine that yet another drip of liquid is dropped into the dish.  How will those compounds react? Will it bubble up and foam?  Will it create heat and choking smoke?  Quite often we have no control over how we react on a feeling basis to everyday life.  But we do have control over how, when, or if we physically, verbally, or even sometimes mentally react. Thought precedes action.  Always.  So learn how to make that thought count ... and make that thought correct.

It's odd how honest I can be now.  Like my tears, I spent years not being honest with myself or others, spent years never shedding a tear.  But now I know that what I feel; others feel too.  This is therapy. This has been one of the few therapies that has worked for me.  I am okay with me and the dumb ass shit I've done. Some of it is laughable now. Most of it has been forgiven.  Thank Goddess for family and unconditional love.

"Storms make trees take deeper roots", said Dolly Parton.

This is also profound to me.  I used to see my mistakes as disappointments for and to others.  I felt like our road together was so bumpy and crooked and full of holes, and it was all my fault. Those rocks and holes being my own poor judgments.  But now I see that a road must be torn up, to be re-paved. You have to break apart those old chunks of incorrect thinking in order to turn them into something stronger, more secure.  A road to survive the miles.

The "Correct Thinking Movement" is still in it's infancy but increasing in size like a snowball of the stickiest snow ... we're a force to be reckoned with.  My buddy Francis is writing a book.  I'll keep you posted on that.  Peter McWilliams is someone that we all would have benefited from knowing. We're people saying, "No worries ... it's all good".  We're the ones who know that life is too short to allow toxic memories affect your today.  What good can come of that?  Live in the now.  If someone is a grumpy prick, they likely have reason to be.  Even if it's their every day ... those are the ones most deserving of our understanding.  And it's difficult.  Holy shit do I ever know it's difficult.  Just let it slide.  Be water.  And be in the one love of the now.

“Ten thousand flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, a cool breeze in summer, snow in winter.  If your mind isn't clouded by unnecessary things, this is the best season of your life.”

~Wu-men