Nancy Wesson's Blog: A Texan Goes Questing

Last year I was honored to receive my second Nautilus Book Award, for I Miss the Rain in Africa: Peace Corps as a Third Act! The first was for my first book, Moving Your Aging Parents. I am particularly thrilled with these awards because Nautilus promotes recognition of books as "seeds to help the world-shift," honoring books that

Recently, I Miss the Rain in Africa was also awarded the Moritz Thomsen Pece Corps Experience Award for 2022, by Peace Corps Worldwide.

"At a time when her friends were planning cushy retirements, Nancy Wesson instead walked away from a comfortable life and business to head out as a Peace Corps Volunteer in post-war Northern Uganda. She embraced wholeheartedly the grand adventure of living in a radically different culture, while turning old skills into wisdom.

Returning home became a surreal experience in trying to reconcile a life that no longer “fits.” This becomes the catalyst for new revelations about family wounds, mystical experiences, and personal foibles.

Nancy shows us the power of stepping into the void to reconfigure life and enter the wilderness of the uncharted territory of our own memories and psyche, to mine the gems hidden therein. Funny, heartbreaking, insightful and tender, I Miss the Rain in Africa is the story of honoring the self, discovering a new lens through which to view life, and finding joy along the path.

Growing up in Baton Rouge and the rich cultural gumbo of South Louisiana was bracketed by a Master’s Degree in Audiology. Her first book, Moving Your Aging Parents (Love Healing Press 2008), was her account of helping her aging parent. At the time, she was running a consulting business, Focus on Space. After fifteen years of that — at the age of 64, she walked away and became a PCV.

She has traveled far-and-wide; cruised on a small sailboat; raised kids, businesses, and husbands; and had more than a few adventures, but nothing compared to the deep immersion in war-torn Northern Uganda. That and the consequent plunge into the wilderness of her own psyche and the new self that emerged, has been — by far — the greatest of these adventures, all told in I Miss The Rain In Africa.

 Hi everyone,  

Despite covid-lockdowns and all the rest - or in some cases, because of it - life marches on and stuff gets done. Grand babies grow, books get published, community rallies around friends, and people change jobs...  All of it is a testimony to the human spirit and our resilience in the face of challenges. 

In the process of releasing I Miss the Rain in Africa, which in part is about revelations and being authentic, it seemed a good time to integrate all of the parts of my life - past and present - into a new website, especially since I jettisoned my previous one, Focus On Space, shortly after returning from Peace Corps.

If you're just interested in the blog portion, which now includes previously published articles about Feng Shui, Organizing, Intuition AND A Texan Goes Questing, with more pictures, go straight to:

BLOG

If you're interested in what I'm up to now,  the possibility of a consultation, or what I learned since, about transmuting family history and examining life through a new lens, I invite you to explore the site in general and go to:

www.NancyWesson.com

You'll also find more information and reviews for both of my books, I Miss the Rain in Africa and Moving Your Aging Parents 

Whether you're a former client, a new or old friend, a reader, or all of those:

WELCOME!

 Hi all,

In case you missed it otherwise - I'm very excited to announce the release of my book, I Miss the Rain in Africa: peace Corps as a Third Act!  It's been an interesting process writing and rewriting and rewriting and letting the muse take over when I really thought the book was finished.  

 

We've all heard writers say that--at some point--the book took a turn of its own, one that wasn't consciously planned.  And that's exactly what happened as I began writing a book that I thought would just be about the adventures and misadventures in Peace Corps.   Yep - the burned foot, teaching Ugandans how to fight a brush fire in my back yard, attempting to remove a ring on my finger with a circular saw, and more!

But once I got home--in the book--the next adventure began to unfold and my muse really did take over. 

They say writing is good for the soul, but in birthing this book, I really did realize that writing is soul-work. It took me into the deep recesses of memory, judgement, healing, and re-discovery of self.  The adventure continues. 

To give you a little preview: I'm offering the Foreword.

 

 I Miss the Rain in Africa: Peace Corps as a Third Act, is an
absorbing record of a woman’s literacy work in Northern Uganda.
It is also a record of the exploration of self, explored by a woman
who enters a remote area of Africa at age 64 to work with a Non-
Governmental Organization (NGO). Ugandans were emerging from 
Joseph Kony’s cruel and bizarre rebel insurgency which had left the
 Acholi populace brutalized and mired in poverty. Assigned to an 
outpost in the north of Uganda, “where all bus trips begin with a
prayer” and “bathroom breaks can be hazardous to health,” Nancy
Wesson begins to live and work with survivors and strivers.

 
Western privilege and pride in institutional roadmaps to progress
 have no place here. Daily life for Ugandans is a struggle unimaginable 
even to the poorest Americans. Life is indeed precarious in 
Gulu, yet education is highly valued, and solutions hammered out of
 almost nothing. Season and weather guide life here and everything is
 “about the relationship, not the clock.” Westerners used to direct
and quick solutions must adjust quickly to decisions made through
 consensus.
 

But serendipity lives in Africa, too. Nancy gets to know her landlady’s
son which leads to literacy materials made of jigsaw puzzles.
The residents of Gulu leave a deep imprint on the author; in 
particular, Peter, whose education she sponsors. On trips to the 
bush, exhausting and hazardous, Nancy works with teachers to 
carve out learning spaces. Her work in Uganda would leave her a bit
 battered and re-entry to the States—shell shocked at the contrasts.
 “Recalibration” is sought and achieved through another exploratory
 journey into the maturing self, requiring a reckoning with 
remembrance, recognition and reconciliation.
 

With self-deprecating humor, curiosity in all things, and empathy 
for all, Nancy takes us through an account of acclimation, acceptance,
and peace with all the different geographies she encounters—
physical, communal, spiritual. “I had devised a portable life with
 total autonomy and it was daunting. Having infinite possibilities
 was both the good news and the bad news.” Living in Uganda
 brought home the knowledge that having choices is the ultimate
 luxury, to be made “wisely and often.”
 

Part adventure, part interior monologue, I Miss the Rain in
Africa: Peace Corps as a Third Act is an account of 21st century
 derring-do by an intrepid, intriguing, and always optimistic woman
 who will undoubtedly enjoy a fourth and maybe even a fifth act
 wherever she may find herself.      

Eileen Purcell, Outreach Literacy Coordinator
                                                                                           Clatsop Community College, Astoria, Oregon                                                                      

~~~

 Soft-cover, hardback and Kindle:

Available via the author, Amazon, Bookshop, your local bookstore, and numerous other outlets.

 

 

 

 

Boys eagerly awaiting a mealI know you have other things going on in your lives and other causes, but this evolving story is one worth telling, not only as a thank you for those of you who have so generously contributed to the GoFundMe campaign to feed the homeless children in Gulu, and to inform others who may consider donating, but also because it offers some perspective on our own lives.
Travis, my oldest son, and I were talking a few days ago, and he made a statement that defines so much about our culture, "few people are aware of prosperity they/we enjoy."
The kitchenFor those of you following this project, here are the latest updates regarding how the funds are helping. I love this shot of some of the smaller kids lining up for a good meal, cooked in the kitchen you see to the left.

Just as a point of interest... if you look at the kitchen picture to the left, you'll see what looks like a wooden paddle leaning up against the wall on the right.  It's called a mingling stick, and it's used for stirring.  The round white ball in the middle is the dough for making chapatis, similar to Mexican tortillas in size, taste and texture.  It's tasty, accompanies most meals, and doubles as a utensil.
~~~
The pandemic has forced greater awareness than ever before, but as we grouse about face masks, scarcity of some food items (not to mention toilet paper), and lock-down, it can be helpful to remember that it's temporary, even if it's maddening and frightening. For many people around the world, scarcity is a fact of life, not merely  an inconvenience, and... it's not temporary.
Cooks and serving womenOne of the things I appreciate about M-Power (the organization receiving the funds) is its commitment to go beyond a band-aid fix of just providing an immediate food source.  While that is the critical need at the moment, the larger goal is to a) reconnect these kids with their families and b) determine long term solutions to help the kids become self-sufficient and productive through education, vocational skills, and farming.
I'm sharing a few of the photographs Peter has taken to document activities made possible by the GFMe funds, as well as a few success stories. 
To the right, the ladies are serving the food from huge pots, large enough to hold food for seventy kids!  And of course, below is a picture of one very happy little boy!
Happy little boy!Some of the children wrote thank you letters for for the food and the care, and almost without exception they added that they really want to return to school. Other letters explained how they came to be on the streets. The vast majority are there because one on more parents died, and they had no way of contacting surviving extended family, so ended up on the streets.

During the pandemic, Peter has received a few donations to shelter thirty of the most vulnerable children in a home.  The long term dream is a mud-brick structure on land that can be farmed, and where the kids can earn money for their daily needs and ultimately, to send them back to school.  If anyone knows of a Rotary Club, church or other organization that might be interested in funding such a project, let me know.  Around $6,500 would do it.  But for now, the focus is on food and getting as many  kids as possible back home.

The letter to the right is from Ojok Morgan, orphaned for eight years and living on the street.  Last week, another two boys, Okot-age 16, and  Opiyo-age 17, joined their families after living on the street for 4-5 years!   
It's a rough life for anyone, but children are especially vulnerable, as they sleep totally unprotected on the street, as shown below.  In rainy season, they must find an awning to sleep under or slip into huge rice sacs to give them some protection from rain and chilly nights.

Asleep on the street
As funds hopefully continue to come in, more children will be returned to their villages, where there is community to help care for them, and a place they, themselves can contribute and learn to be part of a family again.  Uganda is a tribal culture, and living on the streets separates them from all of the benefits of communal life.  It will be a tough transition for some of them, because the other homeless kids have been their family.
One of the things that is so important about Peter's organization, is that he knows and cares about each child and tries to create some sense of belonging in the absence of family,  instilling the values important to help them not only stay safe, but rise above their stories.
A typical Ugandan village, accessible only by footpath.There is such deep gratitude expressed by these children and their families. Over time, we hope more children will be returned home, back into the small villages, such as the one pictured, where they are safer.
Thank you all for you donations, your care, and your generous spirits.
Sending my blessing to you and your families to stay safe and well, and live in gratitude for the abundance that surrounds us.
Nancy

It's been a while, and world of COVID-19 continues to deliver  unexpected challenges and opportunities.  My family and I are fortunate in that we live rural lives, and those have remained relatively unchanged, with minor adjustments.  But others have not been so fortunate, and the pandemic has had a devastating impact on many in our own communities and around the world.
Peter in 2013During this time, I've found myself more reconnected with Uganda than I have been for a while, largely because of Peter, a young man some of you may remember from my time in Peace Corps and a blog I wrote about him  on this site in March of 2013.  When I met Peter, it was in the context of his trying to help the street kids, and only later did I discover that Peter himself was living on the streets. His desire to help others, even as he, himself, needed help, was what drew me into Peter's realm and prompted me to help fund his return to school. Some of you reading this contributed to that effort and Peter and I both remain very grateful for the extra years of education that has afforded.
As we've stayed in contact through the years, I've witnessed Peter's continued commitment to helping "his" kids through a charity he founded, M-Power Gulu (aka Edu-Power Gulu). Peter's focus has been getting kids back to school, receiving vocational training, and when appropriate, helping kids reconnect with their families and villages. There are 800-some-odd homeless kids in Gulu, and Peter's organization serves about 70 of them. They are homeless for many reasons, but most are related directly or indirectly to the twenty-year war waged in the north,  ending in 2005/6.   When COVID-19 arrived, we all know it has hit the most vulnerable hardest, regardless of their country or status. The homeless children in Gulu were no exception.

Some of Peter's KidsWhen the street-children lost their access to food sources with the closing of businesses, loss of tourism, etc. the usual food-scarcity became a full-scale crisis.  As they scavenged for food, many were savagely beaten and/or raped.  As the situation worsened, I made the decision to start a GoFundMe campaign to help feed the children and, when appropriate, re-connect kids with their families and villages.  If you're interested in learning more about that, or contributing, click Feeding Homeless Children in Uganda.
This blog is simply to bring you up to speed on what that campaign has made possible, thus far, and share what some others in the world are facing as a result of the pandemic.
Peter now, with some of the homeless he is helpingThe campaign is twofold in its goals: feed the kids and re-home as many as possible.  The re-homing is really important, because it accomplishes a number of worthy goals, one of which is to reduce the number of at-risk children on the streets of Gulu.  That in turn reduces the number of children who need to compete for food in an already strained system.  More importantly, it reunites kids with family.
I know what you might be thinking; I've thought it, too.  If they wanted to be with their families or could be, why are they on the streets, and it is really healthy for them to return home, depending on the causes for their being homeless.  This is a complicated question, because we all know there are many reasons kids end up on the streets: finances, abuse, adolescent rebellion, and stubbornness...  There's a long list.  But in Uganda, there is another cause, and it goes back three decades to the war years.  Kony's war.
To this day, many of the homeless can trace their situation to some family member being a victim of that war, either directly or indirectly: grandparents killed  thereby orphaning their children, who went on to have children, who, themselves were orphaned. The war lasted twenty years and spanned three generations, resulting in unimaginable cruelty, loss, HIV/Aids, and crushing poverty. The list is endless, so Peter's kids and hundreds of others are left dealing with the fallout.
Your funds are helping!

Travel is dauntingHere's what your funds have helped accomplish thus far and it's just the beginning:  in the past 24 hours four children have been reconnected with parents in villages as far as a day's drive away.  Just getting there is a challenge, as you can see from the picture on the left. A trip that might take an hour in the states, can take most of a day in the bush and more, if it's rainy season.


In Peter's words:

Peter with Okello and David"Okello and David were so please yesterday to meet their elder brother and his wife Aber and their ground father (grandfather) Onen Patrick, when we reached there, they welcome us in very special way that I can't explain the joy they felt to see their Sons again after a long times and they even thought that they will never see them again.

The Father said that we send his greeting to YOU and he glad for the pray and donated to support this program which has made his family back together, he said his family started separated after when the rebels took his Son who was the father of Okello and David and killed them, ever since their father was arrested and killed by rebel, his family has been going through a lot of problems and he is glad that God is fixing now, he added by requesting that if some help could be offer to build some small house for his two ground sons who had returned home he will be glad for that since they will still to borrow a place to sleep, David and Okello also added that they will work hard to make sure that they settle themselves they we taught them to work hard and I said to them that all things are possible when they believe and trust in God and work hard for it."

The remaining kids are receiving nutritious meals consisting of beans, rice, posho (think hard-cooked grits), green and some meat. Yesterday more funds were released to purchase basic cooking supplies and more food, making it more cost effective moving into the future.

All meals are served on reusable plates and utensils, so there is no waste of funds on disposables.






Thanks for reading, and again, please feel free to share the blog or the link to the GoFundMe Campaign.

https://www.gofundme.com/manage/feeding-homeless-kids-in-uganda


Stay safe and thank you all for your continued interest and support.

Nancy

A friend, years ago, told me I have a tendency to use ten words where three will do, and I plead guilty: I like words and their nuances. And some of the information I work with seems very esoteric (taking a lot of words to explain…), but has extremely practical, real world ramifications (not so many words). And because it’s too important to be left unsaid, it’s those practical connections I want to address at the moment. So I will cut-to-the-chase, because these concepts put into practice help boost immunity.

Suffice it to say, that over the past twenty five years or so, working with energy (i.e personal energy fields, not your electric bill), both professionally and through personal practice, I found myself operating in that sweet spot where science and spirituality connect on the continuum of energy.
What I found in that area where science meets spiritual practice can be summarized:
    1.    Everything exists as packets of energy, each vibrating at its signature frequency, which can be demonstrated as a sine wave. Humans are a collection of energy-packets in a skin-suit, operating within a field of energy called a biofield (scientific term) or aura (metaphysical term).  
It's both measurable and changeable.    2.    Because we vibrate, we are  transmitters—sending out our unique vibrational signal, a signal that impacts everyone around us. Remember how things vibrate when the bass on your stereo is too loud?  Same concept, but more subtle,    3.    Like any other transmitter, the signal we broadcast determines the signal with which we will resonate, i.e. a radio-signal tuned to Heavy Metal, will not receive Beethoven, just as a signal tuned to hate and fear will not resonate with love and gratitude.
    4.  Like a radio operator, we get to manage our operational frequency and tune it to what we want to receive (experience) and what we generate (manifest). We do this via intention, thoughts, and emotions. Now, take a leap with me while we connect ends of the continuum and talk about emotions as frequencies: high-frequencies = love, gratitude, compassion; low-frequencies = fear, judgement, anger.


Learning how to manage our energy/frequency/emotions is the single most powerful tool we possess.  The power to do this is within every one of us. We are deciders,  more than doers.
What does this have to do with COVID 19?
It turns out, it has much to do with boosting immunity, both individual and collective.
Amid the chaos surrounding the virus, and the compassionate and necessary actions of physical-distancing, self-isolation, and hand washing as ways to safeguard ourselves, families and communities, it’s vitally important to ALSO know that:
 We EACH carry an effective arsenal of immunity building capabilities within ourselves.
That capability rests in knowing HOW we control our frequencies—our emotions—which directly influence immunity. What follows is a partial list of practices anyone can do, to build immunity and support each other, now and always.
Chromosome with telomere at the endIn 2009, Professor Elizabeth Blackburn won the Nobel Prize for her 1984 discoveries regarding telomeres (found at the ends of chromosomes) and their relationship to immunity. Longer telomeres translate to stronger  immunity, and medical research shows that those telomeres can be lengthened through various practices, and it can be done in a matter of weeks.
In 2008, the Dalai Lama and a group of biomedical scientists came together for a conference on Longevity and Tibetan Medicine.     Among other things, was the discovery that the practice of gratitude lengthens telomeres, and therefore supports immunity.
So gratitude is the first on my list of daily practices.
    1.   Gratitude: in addition to lengthening telomeres, reduces stress and cortisol levels, increases IgA (immunoglobulin antibodies) stimulates “feel-good” neurotransmitters and a sense of well being.
             a. Keep a gratitude journal.
             b. Sit with gratitude for ten-minutes a few times per day. Or for a visual/auditory presentation go here.
    2.   If experiencing fear, shift to gratitude, love, compassion for ANY event in your life. Trying to talk yourself out of fear is like putting-lipstick-on-a-pig, so shift to a memory, event or relationship that stimulates gratitude. 

    3.    If you can, meditate. Any method that works for you is effective and as little as fifteen minutes a day can stimulate creativity,  calm the amygdala, and reduce reactivity in emotional responses.   For information on how meditation changes the brain, check this out.
    4.   Strengthen and take responsibility for your personal biofield by creating your own high-frequency bubble of good-in, good-out. For Star-Trek fans, think of this as your own personal deflector shield. (*A short exercise is provided at the end of this blog.) 
And NO, I'm NOT suggesting that this replace physical-distancing. 
    5.   Be responsible for the energy/attitude/intention you bring to interactions. Experiments show that when two people are placed in a room, even in the absence of behavioral interaction, their brain waves will synchronize and the person with the most coherent brain wave pattern has the greatest influence. Coherency is supported by meditation and emotion. 
 In other words, you change another person/situatin merely by your presence.
HeartMath Institute Image    6.  Increase the synergy between head and heart through visualization, breath, intention, or meditation. Heart-brain coherency changes blood chemistry, cognition, emotional response and many other biological functions. To learn more, check out HeartMath.   For those of you who like gadgets to help guide you, they are available.  Several of my clients have found them useful.

    7.  Pause and consider the larger metaphysical implications of the current crisis on society, environment, and systems that may no longer serve us.  Further, what are the implications at a personal level, and what are you meant to learn as an individual consciousness at this point in your own evolution?  One of many avenues to explore if you’re so inclined is Matt Kahn's post.
           8.   Put yourself on an energy-diet. Literally, choose your energetic intake: monitor and manage your exposure to toxic “news,” fear-mongering, and any media (including t.v, movies and articles) that focus on victimization, whatever the method. Prolonged fear and anger reduce immunity.  This is not to say you can’t be informed, but choose discernment rather than reactivity and judgement.

    9.    Finally, use the opportunity of staying-at-home in ways that support you, not to just pass-the-time.  What are the things you’ve been saying you “don’t have time for?”  Evaluate the things that have fallen away; what served you and what didn’t?  How can you use this time to build relationships (with yourself or others)” “Go deep,” as one of my sons would say, and discover the wilderness within. You might be surprised by what you find, and what you’ll heal. 


In short, in the context of so much external uncertainty and change, we can be our own best allies because of our phenomenal innate resources for managing our thoughts, energy, emotions, immunity, and brain chemistry. Sometimes helping in a crisis boils down to being the person in your circle who can stay grounded and centered and hold space for others going through rough times. 
Your own energy is a powerful source for others and can offer solace simply through your presence. 
Be the light that guides the way.
*Bio-field Exercise: 
Remember, your biofield is a fact and exists with or without your awareness.  This exercise is a method to consciously strengthen that field for your health and well-being.
1.  Take several deep belly-breaths to relax and set the intention for this exercise.       
2. Visualize yourself inside a balloon or an expandable egg shape.
3. My recommendation for breath: imagine  taking in breath/energy from the core of the earth, bringing it up through the sole of the feet (chakras there…), bring it up through the body and out through the crown of the head.  Move energy up to 2-3 feet about your head (clean source energy), then bring it back down thrown the crown to your heart and exhale through the heart to fill the balloon).
6. With each inhale, imagine taking in white light or the pure energy of love, joy or gratitude.  Let it fill your physical body from your toes to your scalp.
7.  With each exhale; blow into your balloon filling with this pure, clean energy.
8.  Continue breathing comfortable, slow breaths until your balloon is expanded to just beyond your fingertips with your arms extended perpendicular to your body, and about a foot above your head and below your feet.
9. The membrane to this balloon or egg is semi-permeable allowing your breath, light and energy, but only that of your choosing.  GOOD IN – GOOD OUT!
10.  If you become light headed during this process, return to normal breathing, and continue to visualize your energy balloon or egg.
11. You can see the light inside your balloon as golden or white light, both of which are associated with the highest frequencies of energy (love, joy, gratitude).
Note: Once you’re comfortable with this technique, you can do it in an instant, anywhere or any time, simply through intending it.

Still catching up her as the last snow of the season falls.   I am acclimating it seems, because I wished for this snow!  This, my third winter, was very mild and I found I missed the magical quality of snow, as someone who has not lived in it her entire life can say.

But to continue the catch up and give you the character of life here:  back to that first year.

Year ONE, in the rear-view-mirror:

Shortly after settling into my cute place on the lake, two events coincided:  my new landlords decided to sell the property, and the kids announced the coming of my first grand baby.  When invited to move closer, I naturally embraced the chance to love on a grandchild, and for a short time, that would mean living in an efficiency apartment connected to their house.  In the span of a few months, I'd repacked everything I'd just unpacked, and moved to join them in the high-desert and unpack again! I traded in my fancy water-proof Bogs boots for gardening boots and leather  gloves and away I went, downsizing yet again, this time to a 300 square feet. That's what grandmothers do... Life in 300 Sq. feet
I moved in as millions converged a few miles down the road to watch the full-eclipse in 2017. It seemed  fortuitous, but man was it dry country. A water person at heart, I was consoled by nearby White River Falls and the Deschutes River, nine miles away. Within moments of opting for life in a desert clime, I hightailed it to the Falls for proof of being able to get a whiff of mist. I wasn't disappointed.
 White River Falls 

We got down to business of settling in and to give you a taste of the first phase of that endeavor, here's a  copy of an article I wrote for the Wasco County Master Gardner's Newsletter. 

Read it and weep.




Confessions of a Tygh Valley Weed Wrangler Having served in the Peace Corps Africa for two-and-a-half years, before moving to Oregon in 2014, I thought it would prepare me well for living a more remote, less “Better Homes and Gardens” life-style – as was my preference.  And to some extent, that’s true: I actually got better phone and internet coverage in the wilds of Africa than I’ve had in either Cannon Beach or Tygh Valley!  That said, nothing prepared me for the sheer variety and ferocity of noxious weeds and grasses I encountered as the self-appointed Weed-Wrangler of our little piece of property in Tygh Valley.   I admit—it’s not an entirely fair comparison though, since I wasn’t wrangling weeds in Africa.
The kids bought a five-acre piece of property in happy pursuit of the dream of having a big garden and chickens and a family compound of sorts. Surrounded by wheat fields, buttes and breathtaking scenery, the place has delivered on its promise of serenity, sunshine and possibilities.   And then there were weeds …. and rocks… and ground squirrels…. and yellow-jackets … and a badger—all of which had staked their claim on the place during the years of neglect between owners. Although an acre-and-a-half had been (emphasis on past-tense) tamed a few years ago, its return to the wild was complete by the time we took possession.   By the end of day three after moving in, I was a woman-possessed—and armed.  Prepared for battle with heavy leather work gloves, leaf-bags, an arsenal of weeding tools, and a pioneer-spirit, I went to work.
Goat Heads will puncture bike tires & feet“What the heck IS all this stuff?” I asked a Master Gardner at one of the last Farmer’s Market days in The Dalles last season. She plied me with brochures and resources, then told me about the Master Gardner program.  That was August of last year and I was hooked. So here I am a fledgling Master Gardner-in-training and the answers are/could be/might be: Cheat Grass, Foxtail Barley, Bull Thistle, Scotch Thistle, Wheat,  Dandelions of course, and False Dandelion (didn’t know there was such a thing),  Field bindweed, Puncture-vine (aka Goat Heads) Knapweed, Wild Geranium, ad infinitum.  Add blackberries, flowering rush (I think) and willow along the unlined irrigation ditch and it’s the gardener’s version of The Perfect Storm. In short, most of the weeds appearing on the PNW weed identification site and some that aren’t are in evidence under-foot, in the cat’s fur, in the gardens, and embedded in my shoes.
None of us have had much time for clean-up, but what time there was, had to be sandwiched between a newborn baby/grandbaby and jobs on Mt. Hood. It’s been a harsh learning curve, with many discoveries, one of which was that of the “seed bank.”   Who knew….  This was not a happy discovery as I’d spent a hideous amount of time pulling weeds out of a previously landscaped bed – un-fortuitously situated across the road from a wheat field, only to have it covered with beautiful grass-like sprouts a few weeks later.  Thrilled with the possibility that the lawn grass had “just needed room to spread,”  it soon became apparent that this was not grass.  And that’s when I began to understand the work of a seed-bank and wished my own bank account would yield such a return to abundance when emptied.  
Having given away ALL of my yard tools when I sold my house to go to Africa, I’m in the process of re-stocking. I am now the proud new owner of a stand-up weed puller, which offered the promise of Dandelion control (not so), a hula-hoe (truly God’s answer to a seed-bank) and sundry other yard tools which promised to ease the work-load.
Hula HoeBy late-Fall, the debris pile had grown to the size of a small house and burning just didn’t seem like a good idea considering that much of Oregon had recently been on fire. Finding no-one willing to haul it away, we ended up renting a U-Haul truck with the Granny Attic and filled it to capacity, dumping it at the Transfer Station, but leaving at least a third of it for another load.  The next load consisted of 50+ paper leaf-bags transported in style in a shiny new rented box-van.   I’m sure a burn-barrel is in our future—when we can find one.  I know people burn out here all the time, but frankly I don’t want to be the one to set the hill on fire when a flaming tumble-weed escapes before I can bat it down.   As of this writing, much of what was cut away to create a fire-barrier, is now in the process of growing back, so it will require constant maintenance
In the war-against Dandelions, the Dandelions have won. What precipitated this surrender was the collection of a bushel of Dandelion blossoms and seed heads (a half-hour’s harvest), accomplished to the mantra “there are still plenty left for the bees!”  What happened next can only be described as karmic.  As I reached down to pick up an armload to  transfer to the paper leaf bag, I was stung by just such a bee, foraging from the picked supply.   Mea-culpa.    I think Dandelion salads and tea might be my best revenge.
Periodic use of the hula-hoe has been nothing short of magical in making “withdrawals” from the seed-bank with minimal soil disturbance.   A weed-torch has been useful in preparing the 32’x24’ area we’re prepping for the garden which we’ll put in too-late because we’re still hand-digging the thirteen, 28” deep post holes in soil that is at least 50% rock, to erect an eight-foot "deer proof" fence.
Future weed-pullerYep! We’re the newcomers, city-clickers, novices, dreamers, optimists—so  feel free to laugh and cry at our efforts (we are).  But progress is afoot and I have new appreciation for the Ugandan expression:  “slowly-by-slowly.”  By the time this confession goes to print, the fence will be up and hopefully, our one small “starter row” with its temporary chicken-wire fence will not have been consumed by the deer – or the ground squirrels – or the badger.   And I fully plan on teaching my grandson, that if he’s very good, I’ll let him pull weeds. But he’s still a little young. 


Post Script: 
I'm happy to say, my future weed-puller  likes "working in the yard with Nana," and is becoming a fine puller of weeds (as well as the random flower... and the occasional-but not-often,  cat-tail). Bribery has not been involved.

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Hello my friends. For those of you still reading, thank you for hanging in there.  For new friends, thank you for welcoming me into your lives.  I'm lovin' my life in Maupin, and still learning how to be an Oregonian; new survival gear is involved: snow boots, rafting gear, ice cleats. Skills to out-smart and out-run a two-year-old are also on the list, though not Oregon-specific.
After Peace Corps, Mexico, and Cannon Beach I sort of fell off the radar when so much new life  (literally) announced itself. Life went into high gear, and the blog fell off the short-list; excuses/reasons will be apparent in future blogs.   
My book about the whole adventure of Peace Corps and more is in the works;  and that took me back to  my blog to see where I left off.  I was a little shocked to realize I'd failed to post the last entry I wrote four years ago. So, while it's old news to some, I'm putting it out there... just because.
As a recycled-Texan, the expression, "I'm back in the saddle again," comes to mind; though the last time I was in a saddle was at a Dude Ranch in 1996 and that didn't end well.  As a new Oregonian, maybe I'm back in the raft? Back on the trail?  Yet all of those feel a little unfamiliar.  Let's just say I'm writing again and it feels good. That actually is familiar ground and makes me happy.
Here's the bit I hadn't posted, from November 21, 2016,  so don't let the timeline confuse you. More to come in bits a pieces...
  
Still processing the aftermath of the (2016) election, I decided to focus on something positive, some-thing a little more uplifting. So here's some beautiful scenery and an update.

At the end of September, my landlords decided to sell the cute little Cannon Beach Cottage and it became time to shift gears again.  Long term rentals in Cannon Beach are non existent, since property owners can earn more on a weekend from the tourists than they can in a month of lease.  The upside was that Travis was able to come for a visit before full chaos erupted and it was like Christmas having both of my wonderful sons here at one time.  It was so much fun sharing this beautiful place with Travis and then being ale to spend time with both of them in Brett's end of the world - Mt. Hood.

Magically, one - and only one - place became available 16 miles up the road, via an acquaintance  I'd made in one of those synchronistic meetings a year ago.  It's a tiny place, overlooking a lake buzzing with activity:  otter, deer, elk and birds. So far,  I've identified 86 different species of birds - but who's counting.  In short - another gift from the universe. Here's a peek.  SO much more open feeling and lots of light.   The people weren't even going to rent it, but a friend of a friend sent them the Peace Corps article that appeared in the newspaper a while back and apparently I didn't look to scary. After getting my stuff in, I took a break from the tourist craziness of the summer and decided to be one - a tourist, that is - and set off to explore the Olympic National Forest and its Rain forests. Who knew!?  The trip was beyond my expectations and just in time to see the Fall Color.  Had my friend and I started a week later we'd have missed it!

There are four temperate Rain forests just three hours north of here and we explored two of them: The Hoh and the Quinault. Feeling like we were lost in the set of Avatar,  every vista was more mystical than the next.  Take a look -
Tucked in among the dripping leaves, bearded trees and waterfalls we chanced upon Lake Quinault Lodge that looks like the set from Dirty Dancing.  Driving on, the scenery switched back to the eerie beauty of the Twilight movies filmed around here.   And in another heartbeat there was scenery that looked straight out  of Colorado. 

Returning via an Indian Reservation and some iconic fishing villages and harbors, we wound our way back into Oregon, stayed long enough to do laundry and regroup before heading south to explore Mt. Shasta, then back north via the southern Oregon coast.


Hoping for a little weirdness on Mt Shasta - known for it's mystical happenings and  inexplicable  encounters, we found only great vistas - until we tried to get back to the shore.  Somehow - (used in the true Ugandan sense...) we were routed to a Forestry Road through the Forest Prime-evil devoid of any sign of  humanity except for  dilapidated, long abandoned barns and small signs announcing GOLD CLAIMS!!!  It was a trip back in time and we were lost, running out of gas and approaching dusk. It stirred up some old spookiness about back roads and bayous in Louisiana, and fearing I might have to walk out or spend the night in the car, I threw up my hands and asked the Universe for help I'm happy to say a big black SUV appeared around the next curve. Although very welcome, it too had an element of weird:  not a speck of dust on this dusty road and no identifiers what-so-ever re: Make and Model.

We were looking for weird, not scary, but this slice of  adventure sufficed.  Heading back home,  the north coast welcomed us with characteristic rain, and so another fall begins.    I've settled into a new place, with great new neighbors - both animal and human - and  ESL (English as a Second Language) classes have begun.   Trying to  find a new cadence to life, since this community is so removed and different from Cannon Beach.

Looks like we're in for quite a ride these next few years and in trying to find some solace, what I've come to is a quote from  Margaret Meade:

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed it's the only thing that ever has."   
It's time to act in your own way to "Be the Change." Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/qu... doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.
Read more at: https://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/qu...

Hello all –
So I thought I’d completely jettisoned my old self…. but there are some things that are just here to stay… And that was rather the point – to see what remained after all the excess fell away.  Part of the Peace Corps journey was to re-calibrate.  You’ve heard this story before, so no repeating.  In short, I chose an opportunity that would allow me the space to live my work – and not sell it.    I’ve dismantled two websites, leaving behind  sixteen years of history.  I’ve stopped formally teaching the Feng Shui, the organization, dispute resolution, the ADHD classes, intuition, hands on healing.   I began teaching these topics at least a decade before they became mainstream and commercial. I’m glad to say that most of it is now part of the vernacular.  When I started, some of these concepts were only spoken of in hushed tones with trusted friends or others who had experiences that were outside the norm.  Now they are the subject of websites, books, webinars and Oprah.
Suffice it to say, that what remains after all that jettisoning of trappings and overhead, is the spiritual practice in daily life and the essence of that is awareness of what kind of emotion – vibration – energy I am offering to the mix.    Am I a source of light or contributing to the darkness?
Energy – sound – light – matter – emotion: it's is about vibration.  Everything vibrates at its own rate and that makes us all transmitters.  It’s not MAGIC – it’s PHYSICS.    This vibration influences everything around us and is cumulative in its impact.  It becomes and defines the collective.  It’s one of the building blocks  of the principle that thought-creates-form. In Africa, I had the remarkable opportunity to observe the immediate results of the concept in daily interactions.  Here there is so much noise, that sometimes it’s hard to rule out the variables.  

So why am I dragging this out now – after years of hiatus?  Because we, as a nation and as a complex culture, are in a mess - a world of woe.  It’s one we created for ourselves - and therefore a situation that we can choose to dismantle and change before our unconscious actions  or knee-jerk re-actions cement what it now just a possibility into a concrete reality. Regardless of political affiliation, our collective energy has created this atmosphere of escalating divisiveness.   Each political candidate represents the out-picturing of the mass energy – representing in different measures: hope, fear, love and hate.      We have – individually and as a society, allowed ourselves to be distracted by the media’s images of hate, violence, divisiveness and inflammatory rhetoric.   We have either not been paying attention, or often paying attention (aka: giving our energy) to things, thoughts, emotions and personalities that do not serve us well.   But we can change this IF WE CHOOSE.  And choose is an active verb…
Each of us has the ability to change our own energy or vibrational signature if we so desire and therefore calibrate (there’s that words again…) the signal we want to be responsible for sending and TO WHICH we want to resonate. Change the signal - change the path. 
We are creatures of choice and we can choose to be the best version of ourselves or drift along and let others do the choosing.  But what does that mean on a moment-to-moment basis?
In part, it means being acutely conscious of what we bring to every moment, every  action and interaction, every decision about what we re-post on FB, about the stories we tell about others and the worth we hold for ourselves.    In the book The Four Agreements (Miguel Ruiz), there is a quote:
“Be impeccable in your word.”
For me, that means not just to tell the truth, be authentic and honor our commitments. Our “WORD” is actually our frequency – the vibrational  signal we emit.  Sound – as an example of frequency – can destroy or create calm.  Is the signal we emit love or hate, worth or devaluing, supportive or discounting?   We are the tuners of our own devices; we are self-calibrating when we choose to be. 
IFF we want a different world, it means active engagement, but not necessarily in the old ways.  If we choose change, we no longer have the luxury of living on auto-pilot and being asleep to our real value, power or capabilities to shape the world and the relationships around us.  Perhaps we have reached this point of chaos and despair precisely to encourage us to be more aware, more conscious of the responsibility we hold for the choices we make, the actions we take and the words we utter.
Not to belabor the point, but again - we create with every breath, every emotion, every belief, every judgement, every blessing or curse – every word, thought, action (and inaction) – and every FB share!   Frankly, acting from conscious choice all of the time can be exhausting! It means breaking habits, operating out of new paradigms, questioning our motivations – being fully present.
One practice I have found helpful is meditation in general, but I really love doing a walking meditation, whether hiking, walking on the beach or to the store or even driving... it's a good way to focus energies and stay out of my monkey-mind.  Sometimes, it’s a challenge to “sit” and still the mind or to re-frame troubling thoughts and feelings, so I’m sharing a meditation I created for myself, in case it resonates with you or you want to create your own:
·
        With every step I take, may all beings walk in freedom      May every action I take be one of compassion      May every thought I have be in awareness of what I bring to the world      May every word I utter be spoken in kindness      May every emotion be of love and gratitude      May every breath offer a blessing       May I see all beings as the divine in form.
Namaste,Nancy

Yes indeed, the sun has set on yet another year and  2016 blew in with with gusto and freezing temps here on the northern shore.  Some strange atmospheric anomaly brought with it the tease of seeing the northern lights as far south as Cannon Beach, so in search of a little magic, a friend and I put on one each of the collection of jackets-hats-vests-and gloves co-mingling with the family of boots to drive up to one of the lookout points away from the light pollution of the metropolis of Cannon Beach. 
We set off into the inky night, any glow from the moon obliterated by the giant specter-like Spruces guarding one side of  Hwy 101 and the Pacific Ocean- - blackness incarnate -  on the other.  Headlights are all but useless on this road of hairpin curves and the darkness swallows the meager glow fr m our high-beams.  So we threaded our way out of town into the encroaching spookiness  until we came to Nekehanie lookout where we might be able to search out out some light-play on the horizon. The wind howled with a vengeance on this point as it juts out into the Pacific;  Manzanita to the south and Cannon Beach to the north.  My shoe-box  size car does not like this kind of wind, nor does its driver - so we inched up as close to the wall separating parking lot from the sheer drop into the ocean and turned off all the lights hoping for a light show.   As we waited, the car shook, the cold crept in and the spook-factor ratcheted its way up.   The only light we saw were those of few fishing boats tossing at sea and I again thanked the gods that I was not on a boat tossing in the dark.  As we sat, cloaked in the black night, it reminded me of the William Ernest Henley poem:
Daytime view from Nekahanie Lookout"Out of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul...In the fell clutch of circumstance,I have not winced nor cried aloud;Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody but unbowed...It matters not how straight the gait,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate;  I am the captain of my soul."
That same captain saw fit to settle me on this gorgeous coast with the intention of reinventing life and so I am.  The first week of the new year always brings up the urge to avoid New Year's Resolutions, but a review of what's past and what might be ahead always seems to creep in.  While mulling over such things, I began to fall into that abyss of trying to figure out what this time of life is all about.  I've never really understood or identified with the term retirement.  Thank God I was rescued from further ruminations by a phone call from a strange country code: 256...   I answered my dark-ages black flip-phone (yes I admit it...) before the whereabouts of the prefix had been found in my mental Rolodex, for those of you old enough to remember such things.  A resonate voice full of lilting accent blossomed forth....     Identifying the accent, but not the words I knew it was Uganda calling!    A little knee-jerk panic hit as I wondered if  I was going to being able to understand any of this. Historically - the answer would be no:  lousy acoustics of my  phone, poor connection, a vaguely British accent speaking across thousands of miles, old fart hearing and a brain (mine) being out of practice in processing the uniquely Ugandan way of stringing English words together.I said: "I'm sorry who is calling ????"    The voice:  something unintelligible Again, me feeling embarrassed: "Oh I'm sorry! can you say that again?"  The now-laughing voice:  "Your friend!  The former Assistant Rrrrrra D.C. (Regional District Commissioner)!"  Me finally: Oh Emily - it's YOU! How wonderful!" I am now choosing words carefully, trying not to "decorate"  language with words that will only confuse.  My English is just as strange to her ears as her's is to mine.But we prevailed and it was the most delicious, surprising conversation.
She said "It is the New Year and I could not welcome it without calling you!  I have been missing you!  And I love you too much... and I could not start another year without saying thank you for all you have done? We miss you SO much!" 
Oh my, I felt wrapped in love and gratitude for knowing this woman, having lived those years in Uganda,  having  been "enough" to be missed two years later.  Overcome with emotion I couldn't think fast enough to ask her about everyone and when I tried one volley, I could tell there was familiar mis-step in making oneself understood (it goes both ways)  when the crackle of a poor connection took over ... In the next moment,  I think I heard her ending the conversation as it was just beginning. It was a very Ugandan practice - usually without preamble the conversation is simply "finished."  Air-time is a precious commodity and telephone etiquette is just different.  Was that "Goodbye"  I just heard?  Yes - I think so. And I thanked her for calling and told her,  "I miss you and love you 'too much. ' "  And then it was over.   Had it actually happened? 
Wow!  What a gift! What a spectacular way to start a new year!  A with it,  a heartfelt reminder of the impact we have on each other's lives.  Emily - who rescued a toddler literally from the sacrificial alter of a local witch doctor and moved heaven and earth to help me with Peter's horrid school situation had far more impact on my life in Uganda than I perceived  having had while there.  Still, I believe any small act of caring resonates far more deeply that we can imagine.  It was - for me - a clarion call to continue to be mindful of our ability to change the world through small acts of kindness given freely and without attachment to the outcome. And that continues to be one of the repeating gifts from my time there: to simply to the next right thing without expectation of return.  Just do it.
 Three weeks later, life has resumed some form of normality. The elk herd wanders down the street and fat racoons maraud around town at night and the wind blows. 
One big step for me in the ongoing process of re-calibrating and redefining life has been to jettison some of the trapping of a prior life that no longer support me.  The knowledge from and the appreciation of that life remain, as do good friend but other things no so much.  The website I had for 20 years Focus On Space and the email that went with it, along with it the book site are now defunct.  And I will tell you that the conscious dismantling and untangling of a previous identity with so much history was daunting.  It is so much more than I thought and as liberating.  Rather than dragging my history along behind me by default, I decided-to-decide what I would keep.  That said, there is NO aspect of life that that site did not touch:  accounts, online billing, contacts, professional life,  ad infinitum.  As soon as one layer was cleared another took it's place.  But, slipping around in the primordial goo of a new life forming is a distinctly unsettling - if often exhilarating - experience. 
So I am exploring and face it - funds are essential. But  thanks to Peace Corps and  other internal shifts, my relationship with money has changed as has the life-style I choose, allowing a lot of latitude.  But this new life I have here has no real rhythm and that's taking some getting used to.  I've taken on something new for me that stems from the language training in Uganda and my short stint in Mexico, learning how to teach English as a Second Language.   I'm the new coordinator for recruiting students and tutors for a TESL program funded by Clatsop Community College.  It ends in May, when the tourist season starts here and it's been interesting.   It's a bit like herding cats:  finding both tutors and students and then matching them up and finding venues for sessions: different schedules, abilities, transportation limitations, etc. etc.  I'm teaching one class a week that ranges from 5 - 12 students, half at any given time are new... English skills all over the place and great fun.  What a great group of lovely, supportive, funny women. Cold but beautiful
My role as staff for  Haystack Rock job starts and this year I'm getting paid for what I did for free last year.  That fulfills one of my intentions: to get paid for work I would do (and have done) for free :)  Since that job revolves around low-tide, there's no normality to be found there.  The tide waits for no man, so all other schedules have to dance around this one.  No sense of balance there...   But being paid to be on the beach, talking to people about the wildlife is pretty fine.  However, the first session of beach duty was a little raw: 45 mph winds, cold and rough surf. 
And somehow I've made it onto the front page of the local papers without doing anything illegal or outrageous - yet.  I was interviewed about my Peace Corps experience, so it was fun and lovely to have the chance to the experience.
An that's the news from lake Wobegone...

Wishing you all a belated Happy 2016!   Love and blessings ya'll...