Happy Halloween.....

This was taken 5 years ago but it's the only time that I have dressed up on this day in many years.  I seem to be going through another metamorphic change so thought I would post this picture that I had shared on facebook.  
More importantly, this day is the 25th Anniversary of my surviving Ovarian Cancer.  I have written about it on this blog before. 

 https://anniebsiemer.blogspot.com/2009/10/


 I did surgery to remove it but refused chemotherapy.   I opted instead to use plant medicine.  I was very lucky at the time to have been surrounded by several women who were involved with the Northern California Women's Herbal Symposium.  
I will forever be grateful to that group of women.  To keep the cancer from re-occuring, I chose to use the Essiac Formula.  I was given the actual formula from an herbalist working at Rosemary's Garden, an Herbal Apothecary located in Sebastopol, California (as the prepared formula in bottles was not affordable to me).  I will forever be Thankful to the Ojibway healer who shared the formula with Canadian Nurse, Renee Caisse in the early 1950's. Google it.  Later today, I will post the formula.  It is an amazing tonic for so many things. 
NOTE: I LOVED THE ACTUAL PREPARING OF THIS AND IT ADDED AN EXTRA BONUS/RITUAL FOR OWNING SELF-HEALING....

 THE ESSIAC FORMULA

 6 1/2 CUPS OF BURDOCK ROOT

16 OUNCES OF SHEEP SORREL

4 OZ OF SLIPPERY ELM BARK

1 OZ OF TURKISH RHUBARB ROOT

-USE 8 OZ AT A TIME OF THIS DRY MIXTURE

-PUT INTO 2 GALLONS OF DISTILLED WATER AND SIMMER FOR 10 MINUTES

-COVER AND  ALLOW THE MIXTURE TO COOL FOR 12 HOURS 

NEXT PREPARE GLASS BOTTLES(12 OR MORE AMBER OR CLEAR) THE SAME WAY YOU WOULD WHEN DOING ANY CANNING...STERILIZING ETC 

 THE NEXT DAY REHEAT THE TEA, BRINGING ALMOST TO A BOIL BUT BE CAREFUL NOT TO BOIL IT.

 USING CHEESECLOTH OR A STRAINER, POUR THE TEA INTO THE PREHEATED BOTTLES THE SAME SANITARY WAY YOU WOULD WHILE DO CANNING.

STORE IN A REFRIGERATOR TO PREVENT GROWTH OF MOLD

TAKE TWO OUNCES, TWICE A DAY, MORNING(BEFORE EATING) AND EVENING (AFTER EATING)

HEAL ON!

I am proud to say that "Big- Pharma" has not entered my body/temple since 1994. 

My favorite  TREE and "GROUNDING" song......

This is/was the Silver Maple Tree that stood in front of the house on Lynward Road in a Columbus, Ohio West-side suburb called "Holly Hills", where I grew up.

   When my parents purchased the newly built-for-us tri- level house in 1962,  they had to agree to plant 2 trees and this is the one that survived.  For my entire growing up through my Mom's passing on in 2012,  it was "The Picture Tree" as everyone who ever had their picture taken outside at our house by my Mom , (the photographer) would have to
stand in front  of this tree.

A few years ago, to my dismay, the new owner cut it down.  My Aunt Mickey had my cousin Gary go get pieces of it for me and I have one piece here in Florida.

This tree will always be my original "Giving Tree" as I climbed in it as a child.

Early this morning I  was looking at the pictures on a hard-drive of a camera I had purchased for my Dad back in 2011 and found this picture and a few others that I will share here now that I didn't honestly know were there.  I am so very grateful for these found pictures as my Moms glorious backyard garden has since been completely mowed down as well.

And here is my favorite old grounding song...a song I taught hundreds and thousands of children in a few environmental education programs here and there.  I believe that it was written by a woman named Betsy Rose:  It is a song that never ends...

"Standing like a tree

with my roots dug down,

my branches wide and open...

come down the sun

come down the rain

to a heart that is open to be ....

Standing like a tree ...."

repeat over and over 

Temenos

"When we choose a seat or standing area on a bus or train, when we arrange space in an office or workplace, when we decide where to put a garden, or chairs on a porch, where to sit on the riverbank to have lunch, where to play with the children — all of these decisions have to do with temenos, marking out a space appropriate for a certain spirit that breathes life into our activity." 

from The Re-Enchantment of Everyday Life by Thomas Moore

I found more on temenos today on this blog called 

"A Reverant Life" by C. Forrest McDowell PhD

https://reverentlife.com/2011/05/26/sanctuary-temenos-%E2%80%94-sacred-boundary-for-the-soul/

He writes:

"Our interior system of temenos, like rooms and gardens of the soul, is enriched and enchanted by the furnishings of our thoughts. We often come to a place in our day, for example, when we feel a need to let go of worldly thoughts and enter into a more sparse, relaxed, and peaceful inner space. At such times this interior temenos becomes interior sanctuary, as in a daydream, the recitation of a mantra, the silent outpouring of prayer, or quiet reflection. We feel, in short, momentarily walled-off from the world."

 Also from this blogger:

"The relationship between daily sanctuary and peace is so interconnected that we need to understand how temenos (sacred boundary) and the Spirit of Place afford us refuge." 

from Alfred Lord Tennyson:

"In this boundless universe
let us this thought rehearse:
We can be boundless for better
or boundless for worse."

random paper cutout by Annie B. Siemer

circa 2004

Hoping and Praying

Photo by Chandra Passero

Sculptor/Artist unknown


 

For years and years I had dreams that were focused around a very tall , very thin Obsidian Black woman in all matters of my own affairs. The first one was back in 1988 when I was getting ready to go to a job at a Girl Scout Camp in Thetford, Vermont. This woman showed me a sculpture made out of matchbook type wood. She made this sculpture in the town square there and then destroyed it. 
 

I was going back there to be The Arts and Crafts and Ecology Director. At first I thought it was reminiscent of a teaching I had in college my senior year in a pottery class. Our teacher then tried to instill in us these things: both that whatever we made would be around (after firing) for a very long time, (so it was important for it to be not only useful and beautiful to our own eyes), but we should know that it was permanent, so as not to waste the clay , I reckon. Then later I realized it was probably a nudge to realize that nothing is permanent.

I later had a dream where I was living in Sebastopol, California in which Sebastopol had become an island after some great Earth change or flood. In this same dream, about 1995, I confronted my Fred Phelps-like Brother, Michael about his treatment of me. I had been trying to maintain my health after surgery for Ovarian Cancer using the Essiac formula as well as a number of other natural healing methods (that I have previously written about in this blog). In waking life, Mike had written me a homophobic themed letter, not in support, but to tell me that he thought I was going to ( his proverbial) hell. When I confronted him in the dream, my tall Black woman ( who I had by then realized was my higher power personified) just shook her head in a slow and steady “no”. I took this to mean he wasn’t worth my energy and moved on.

 

I saw this picture of this sculpture on a friend’s facebook page and asked her if I could use it. The figure is not only important, for the temenos or ambiance of sacred space that she (my friend) has created surrounding it...but it looks to be about how I feel right now. I asked her to borrow it for this...because this is how I see both myself and my Tall Black Woman now. Sitting cross-legged, a lot older, a little more round. Trying to stay in the moment , while also hoping and praying for positive outcomes with the challenges I and we now face...individually and as a society.

I am hoping and praying that my one remaining brother will eventually treat me with the love, compassion and respect that I deserve, while also trying to accept that this may never actually happen...trying to still....again.... now let it go, knowing still that I am responsible for my own path, not his.

I am hoping and praying still that all of the people on our planet will realize that this moment is really all we have...and that loving each other can be the only way for us to survive , and that none of us are permanent.

I am hoping and praying for an end to all wars, especially the ones going on in our own families.

I am hoping and praying for the well -being of my friends fleeing fires in Northern Cali, other friends healing themselves (in their own ways) of cancers and life threatening diseases or friends and family facing loss of loved ones and myriad other obstacles to true inner peace.

I am hoping and praying that I myself can rise above the chaos and hatred and remember myself that I (even through all of the grief and challenges of my past several years) have had a very incredible life experience, meeting SO MANY beautiful and soulful folks in each and every place along my path, and remember to sit and reflect , with genuine gratitude , for each and every one of these life experiences.

4/16/2020post note: I went back and reread the amazing blogpost from which the picture of this statue came from...my old/new friend Chandra Passero. Here's the blog post that is timely again for today: 
https://www.chandrapassero.com/earth-based-traditions

occupy 8 years later

My hopes/demands during Occupy 8 years ago haven't really changed

“I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

'tis the season....

10 year old collage

1 section of
Mixed Media Collage

12/21/2009

Annie B. Siemer

Fall Colors of My Garden.....

Ripple | Playing For Change | Song Around The World

Woman's Magical Cob House Built with Earth & Reclaimed Materials

an amazing poem by Jeanette LeBlanc

there is a girl
she is wise
and wary of flames
but still, she knows
she will survive the fire
life scorches sometimes.
she has been a phoenix before
and every time
she burns to ashes
she knows
exactly how to rise
again.
she carries
destruction grief
carved river deep in her bones
specializes in
wrecking ball
knows how to bring
the whole thing down
surveys the broken
claims it as wholeness
and names it all good
she knows well
the holy necessity
of beginning again.
she has gone mad
for beauty
found rapture in shadows
calls poetry her religion
she seduces uncertainty
like a dominatrix
bows to no god
names herself goddess
builds alters
to the divinity
of heat and sweat and sex
and claims righteous ownership of
the body she has been given.
she once held her truth
in bone marrow,
locked deep.
but she was always
prone to fracture
learned that words flowed best
at the broken spots
she wrote splinter point novellas
told shatter stories
knit words into worlds
and worlds into heat
and heat into breath
and breath into medicine
and she learned her voice
had the power to heal.
she lives transparent now
welcomes the feel
of air on bare skin
throws arms wide
holds out her heart
and says here
take this
all of it
she figured early
that far too much energy
is invested in veiling
truth
in hiding bodies
in cloaking love
she refuses
to cultivate shame
she saves her effort
for vital things.
she knows that
love is expensive
and always worth
the price
she knows home is not
where she lives
but something
inside held
and sometimes
only found by leaving
she knows that walls
are imaginary
and that open doors
are everywhere
and that eventually
we will all
make our way
back to the sea
back to the crashing waves
back to salt water truth
she does not believe in one day
no happily ever after
or black and white
hard truths
her forever is now
she finds her rapture in the fullness
of this moment
humanity is her only dogma
kindness her communion
and church a mountain top
in the center of the desert
while the city pulses below
she speaks amen
in every holy fragment of existence.
she always knew she’d have daughters
knew she would mother them well.
she teaches them the value of their
outside voice
their no voice
their yes voice
their my entire being is a temple voice
she teaches them that their spirit
is truth
and their truth
is strength
and their strength
is vulnerability
and their vulnerability is a gift.
she knows too many girls
are broken before they
become
she has done battle in the name of rebirth
carries her scars with fierce grace
she finds beauty in the breakdown
and wholeness in the shatter
strength in the fault lines
and goodness in everything.
she is not afraid to name her gifts
knows the magic in her words
knows the spiral in her hips
she has a vital spark
at the center of her longing
she has secrets behind her eyes
and will share them
with anyone
who asks
but she only wants those
who commit
to asking.
she knows that compromise
is for vocations
and that spirit
is non-negotiable
she accepts no labels or limits
build her a box
and she will dismantle it carefully
use the pieces
to create a stage
and sing her own wild song
knows there is a power
in the melody we carry in our
bones.
She knows the lotus blooms
in mud
she knows the phoenix
goes down in flames
she knows the rapture of lust
and the escape of captivity
she knows the center of the paradox
is where the truth is found.
she is full of sky
full of starshine
full of goddess flame
bleeds words
speaks truth
welcomes it all
howls at the moon
she is a girl on fire
she is stoking the flames
she is lighting the world
she is burning to ashes
And always she is rising
And rising
And rising again.

__Jeanette Le Blanc 

find more like this at www.jeanetteleblanc.com

Christian de la Huerta on Coming Out Spiritually

sunday morning walking with mollie and one of many Denise Levertov's gems.....

Aware

When I found the door
I found the vine leaves
speaking among themselves in abundant
whispers.
My presence made them
hush their green breath,
embarrassed, the way
humans stand up, buttoning their jackets,
acting as if they were leaving anyway, as if
the conversation had ended
just before you arrived.
I liked
the glimpse I had, though,
of their obscure
gestures. I liked the sound
of such private voices. Next time
I'll move like cautious sunlight, open
the door by fractions, eavesdrop
peacefully.

Denise Levertov

Everything Possible (Live)still timeless

Never Turning Back (by Pat Humphries) - Performed by Judy Small

The picture on my profile here is from early 2010.  I have been through so very much grief and just plain spiritual growth (ongoing) but the sun here in Florida has really taken a toll on my body.  All and all, even with all of the scary crap going on around us now...I am still very happy to be alive in these times, on this planet and feel so very blessed to have lived in beautiful places in Ohio, Kentucky, California, Indiana, Vermont, Oregon, Tennesee, and Texas and here now in the land of many rivers. 
All of those places had me meeting just plain INCREDIBLE people. And for that, I will be eternally GRATEFUL.

A poem by one of my favorite poets, Susan Griffin
"Love should grow up like a wild iris in the fields,
unexpected, after a terrible storm, opening a purple
mouth to the rain, with not a thought to the future,
ignorant of the grass and the graveyard of leaves
around, forgetting its own beginning. Love should
grow like a wild iris
but does not.
Love more often is to be found in kitchens at the dinner hour,
tired out and hungry, lingers over table in houses where
the walls record movements; while the cook is probably
angry,
and the ingredients of the meal are budgeted, while
a child cries feed me now and her mother not quite
hysterical says over and over, wait just a bit, just a bit
love should grow up in the fields like a wild iris
but never does
really startle anyone, was to be expected, was to be
predicted, is almost absurd, goes on from day to day, not
quite
blindly, gets taken to the cleaners every fall, sings old
songs over and over, and falls on the same piece of rug that
never gets tacked down, gives up, wants to hide, is not
brave, knows too much, is not like an
Iris growing wild but more like
staring into space
in the street
not quite sure
which door it was, annoyed about the sidewalk being
Slippery, trying all the doors, thinking
If love wished the world to be well, it would be well.
Love should
grow up like a wild iris, but doesn’t, it come from
the midst of everything else, sees like the iris
of an eye, when the light is right,
feels in blindness and when there is nothing else is
tender, blinks, and opens
face up to the skies.

How/why the Kate Wolf Festival was my idea.....

I remember walking through the rain in Austin, Texas on December 10, 1986 when Kate Wolf died. John Aielli, the dj who was greatly responsible for introducing all of us Austinites to Kate Wolf and her music (via one of the greatest npr stations of all time.....wkut) played her music his entire shift. I walked with my walkman through some Austin Parks and Rec hotel function/training, mourning the loss of this great spirit and cried.

Kate and her music stayed with me through several moves back and forth and finally had me riding my bike through the town of Mendocino on my 1989 bicycle tour of the Pacific Coast. Everywhere in that town and on the “coast of California” that summer I would ask people if they knew her and knew the songs she had left all of us, especially about their town.

Later living in the Redwoods in The Santa Cruz Mountains, I bought her songbook and taught myself to play Give Yourself to Love, The Red Tail Hawk and Green Eyes on a guitar that was given to me by my Uncle Barry. Those years I tried to share with all of the kids and fellow Environmental Educator/Naturalist types surrounding me, this love of her music and these songs. In the spring of 1994 I moved to Occidental, California and shared this music with the same at Caritas Creek E.E.
 

In October of 1994 I was diagnosed with Ovarian Cancer as I had a grapefruit sized tumor on my right ovary. I did the surgery to have it removed on 10/31/94 and while on the morphine had the following dream: I was walking with Kate Wolf. I was holding a crystal bowl or chalice and I had on a beautiful white robe. At the time I took this to mean that I would be just fine.

The following year I took a job as a Recreation Specialist/Night time rec center supervisor/Special Events coordinator with the Santa Rosa Rec and Parks dept. While looking over old files for both Finley and Steele Rec Ctrs, I came across beautiful black and white photos of Kate and she had apparently played there at Steele when she was still alive.

I had been a big fan of public radio since college in Morehead, Kentucky and while living in Sonoma Co , discovered Cloud Moss and his radio station there. At that time, looking over those photos I had the idea to have another concert, a ten year anniversary of her departure and this time to specifically benefit Public Radio and that station in western Sonoma Co.

So I got on the phone and called the Institute of Musical Arts in Bodega to ask them to put me in touch with Nina Gerber so that I could get this idea moving forward. I pictured her, utah phillips, Joanne Rand and a plethora of musicians living there at the time...singing different Kate Wolf songs. 
 

I pitched the entire idea several times into their voice mail (box)…trying to get them…and Nina on board with the idea before I pitched it to the (then) director of SRRP special events, Debbie ( last name forgotten )

who was the supervisor to my spec events super Kelley Magnuson.

Neither the IMA nor Nina Gerber ever returned my call.

So I pitched it anyway, to the aforementioned supervisor, Debbie who proceeded to tell me that no one had ever even heard of Kate Wolf and she was certain that we would never be able to make any money from it...so my idea was killed. Or was it?

A year or so later (maybe less) Cloud Moss and friends started the Kate Wolf Festival. I am sure it has by now made millions. Maybe Debbie knows who Kate Wolf is/was now. The big irony is…while still living in Sonoma County and working myriad jobs to just be able to stay there (ee provided free housing) I could never afford to go to it myself. I have never wanted monetary KICKBACK OR anything for this idea...just the acknowledgment that it was my IDEA.
 

Thank the Great Spirit,God/dess that the intention and the outcome are the same.

More and more people, hundreds of thousands of folks, now know about the life and music of one, Kate Wolf. And I sure do hope that some of those millions made (indeed ) went to public radio, especially KRCB.