I FEEL A MOAN COMING ON!

Let me preface this article by saying that I am one lucky woman to have been born in the United States of America.  It is not by virtue that I am here, it is by chance.

Having been given this chance, I deeply love, appreciate and respect everything this country stands for (or used to stand for), and my way of thanking this country is that I have worked since I was 14, sometimes 2 or 3 jobs at a time, and currently I am working 4 jobs, all with companies that I created out of ash without borrowing a dime.  I pay a gigantic amount of taxes to this country and follow the rules set forth by the government now, as well as the ones my country was founded on by our forefathers.  I employ many people and for years put their needs ahead of my own, declining salaries from my own company so that my staff could be paid.  I have invested every dime I have earned into my companies so that they would survive some of the worst economies of my lifetime, and did so successfully, even though it put me at the brink of homelessness.  But due to extremely hard work and taking quick and necessary action to preserve everything I had built, my companies, and my staff all survived, and there was not a pay cut (except mine) for any of them, unlike so many companies and employees out there.

So, here is my moan.  An article came out in the last days that in certain parts of California, people are apparently not allowed to wear the American Flag on their shirt.  I am assuming this also applies to pins, hats, patches, stickers, jewelry and face paint.  My reaction?  Are you flipping' (I would have F-bombed here) serious?  THIS IS THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!  This is OUR flag.  If you are here as a citizen, a visitor, an alien (legal or illegal), you had better well respect this country and its flag.  I bet most of this country doesn't even know there are rules, a code, for owning an American Flag.  Did YOU know there are rules?  if not, here is just Section 8 of those rules:

§8. Respect for flag

No disrespect should be shown to the flag of the United States of America; the flag should not be dipped to any person or thing. Regimental colors, State flags, and organization or institutional flags are to be dipped as a mark of honor.

1. The flag should never be displayed with the union down, except as a signal of dire distress in instances of extreme danger to life or property.
2. The flag should never touch anything beneath it, such as the ground, the floor, water, or merchandise.
3. The flag should never be carried flat or horizontally, but always aloft and free.
4. The flag should never be used as wearing apparel, bedding, or drapery. It should never be festooned, drawn back, nor up, in folds, but always allowed to fall free. Bunting of blue, white, and red, always arranged with the blue above, the white in the middle, and the red below, should be used for covering a speaker's desk, draping the front of the platform, and for decoration in general.
5. The flag should never be fastened, displayed, used, or stored in such a manner as to permit it to be easily torn, soiled, or damaged in any way.
6. The flag should never be used as a covering for a ceiling.
7. The flag should never have placed upon it, nor on any part of it, nor attached to it any mark, insignia, letter, word, figure, design, picture, or drawing of any nature.
8. The flag should never be used as a receptacle for receiving, holding, carrying, or delivering anything.
9. The flag should never be used for advertising purposes in any manner whatsoever. It should not be embroidered on such articles as cushions or handkerchiefs and the like, printed or otherwise impressed on paper napkins or boxes or anything that is designed for temporary use and discard. Advertising signs should not be fastened to a staff or halyard from which the flag is flown.
10. No part of the flag should ever be used as a costume or athletic uniform. However, a flag patch may be affixed to the uniform of military personnel, firemen, policemen, and members of patriotic organizations. The flag represents a living country and is itself considered a living thing. Therefore, the lapel flag pin being a replica, should be worn on the left lapel near the heart.
11. The flag, when it is in such condition that it is no longer a fitting emblem for display, should be destroyed in a dignified way, preferably by burning

The full Rules and Regulations, or Flag Code can be found here:  http://www.ushistory.org/betsy/flagcode.htm

The American Flag is a symbol of honor, the symbol of the United States of America.  To deny it in any part of this country or to disrespect it is like going into someone's church and spitting at its icons, whatever they may be.  It disgusts me that people in the United States are now attacking our national flag.  We have seen the extreme left attack Christianity and have gone so far as to want the work God removed from our currency.  We are no longer allowed to pray in public schools.  The pledge of allegiance is something for the history books.  We cater to foreigners' beliefs as not to 'offend' them on our own soil.  We change the direction toilets face in prisons because Muslims can only shit in a certain direction or it will offend their God, or Ala.  Can you imagine?  WE CHANGED THE DIRECTION THAT MUSLIM PRISONERS GET TO SHIT, AND I PAID FOR THAT!  IN MY OWN COUNTRY!  WITH THE 49% IN TAXES THAT I PAY, RELIGIOUSLY (couldn't help the pun).

I am so sick of everyone trying to be Politically Correct.  What the hell for?  The United States of America has innate values and codes of conduct that include respect for one another, but does not require us to placate to anyone.  If someone comes here and is offended by our Flag, our God, our way of life, then LEAVE.  Go back to wherever you came from if you cannot or will not be respectful.  And for the love of Pete, if you break our laws and end up in prison, you can shit in whatever direction we tell you to shit.  You lost your right to shit facing the west or whatever the hell the rule of your countries and religions are.  You are in the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.  You abide by OUR rules, OUR values, OUR codes of conduct, and if you can't abide by them, then RESPECT THEM, and don't expect the people of the United States to change our ways to accommodate you.  That is NOT what this country stands for.  You are free to believe whatever you wish, but you are not free to change what the people of this country believes in and honors.  No way.

I am done being PC.  I will call anyone out who plays this ridiculous game.  Blacks don't call whites Caucasian.  I will not call a black person African American.  It's absurd.  Black people call us WHITE.  She's black, he's white...who cares!  It is just a color, not a slander.  Illegal Aliens are now Illegal Immigrants.  Soon they will something else, like "welcome guests from a foreign land" because we will be afraid to say who, where and what the truth of the situation is.  People who here illegally are HERE ILLEGALLY!  Do you think other countries allow this?  Absolutely NOT.  It would never fly, not unlike our flag is doomed for if people from the United States of America do not put a stop to all this non-sense.

Okay, I think you get my point, like it or not.  I will stand tall and protect the values of this country, the values and code of the American Flag, and if you are black, I will call you black, and if you are white, I will call you white.  If you are acting like an idiot, I will tell you so.  And by God, I will chain myself to the next prison toilet that they think they have to rotate for a Muslim prisoner who is nothing but a criminal and a burden to the people of the United States.

Enemies, Come Sit At My Table.

I was walking home from the bus stop one afternoon with my friend that I played violin with at school in the late 60's-early 70's.  It was a rural street, still dirt and curiously mud covered water puddle road that we walked up and down every day.  But this day was different.  About half way down, we could see the flashers of police cars, and a lot of them.  As we grew closer, the police kept us from proceeding, and we saw a truck that said SWAT on it.  These scary men in black were up in the trees and on roof tops, and someone was talking through a loud speaker to "come out with your hands up".  All of this was surrounding and aimed strait at my friends house.

When we were finally able to approach, which I suppose is when they determined that there was no longer any danger, it was discovered that my friends father had shot and killed his mother, then himself, according to their next door neighbor.  I skid-addled home as quickly as I could, not knowing what else to do.

I only remember two interactions between me and my friend after that event.  The first was the two of us sitting outside in front of his house, in the ditch between some giant pine trees that lined the front of his property.  The only thing I remember him saying was "If my father was still alive, I would kill him".  The other interaction wasn't an interaction with him directly, but a discovery in his music locker.  It was a love letter between my friend and another boy.  I thought there was something really wrong as I had no experience or knowledge about homosexuality, and I showed it to my music teacher.  He took it from me and said nothing.

I went back to minding my own business, but as far as I can remember, that is where our friendship ended, and I lost track of him after that.  I think he and his older sister and brother moved away at some point.  I do remember thinking that he would probably be fucked-up forever, and felt guilty and helpless and wish I would have known how to be a better friend.  I remember hearing a long time ago that he was working at a gas station and was a mess.  It made me cry.

With the advent of FaceBook, I randomly and periodically search for names from my past, and lo, there was my friend.  He had followed his musical talent all the way across the country achieving a degree in teaching music, and proudly did so at several elementary schools.  He is still gay, and by every appearance, seems about as happy as any human being that I have ever read about on FB.  Not only was he accomplished, but in love, happy, living in one of the most beautiful cities in the world and had somehow overcome what I can imagine is one of the most devastating life events that anyone could ever survive.  How was this even possible?

In a word, forgiveness.

I've been thinking about forgiveness for the last several months.  I have been trained for many years the importance of forgiveness in our lives, and how it dissolves resentments.  During the past couple of years, I have had a string of betrayals from people that I loved so very dearly.  I was not aware of most of them until after the fact which made them somehow even more painful.  I suppose I'd rather be punched in the face directly than stabbed in the back.  Regardless, there were several in succession, and while they were nothing like what my friend experienced, if one can overcome the kind of resentment he had towards his father, I should be able to rise above these less devastating, nonetheless painful injustices.

There were several instances of slander from people whom I treated with the utmost respect and love.  I don't know where it came from.  Perhaps I wore too many hats in those relationships which can often lead to trouble, but I am one to be able to handle dual relationships, and after considerable conversations with the other party, I was convinced that they would be able to do the same.  I was wrong, and so were they.  While painful, the infractions were fairly minor, and while I expelled her from my life as a friend, I did tell her in a separate communication that I love her, and I meant it.  I still do.  I have no resentment towards her, whatsoever.  She was simply tangled in the web of a spider of greater strength then her own and followed suit.  It wasn't her fault.  One day, I will invite her to my dinner table and hope to resume the nature of what our previous relationship consisted of.  My being a supportive role model, and in this case, one that displays the ability to forgive.

Another is a little more difficult and I haven't taken any action on this one yet.  And yes, my resentment still looms in the recesses of my grey matter.  It involves an individual who was in a position to steal from me many thousands of dollars in cash and equipment, defraud an account, attempt to corrupt my reputation with business associates and has thus walked.  I have the legal right to file criminal charges against this individual to try to recoup some of my losses, but at what cost?  I don't know if any of you have ever been involved in a lawsuit, but they are about as toxic as any process can be.

I have had other experiences where I had the choice to file suit or let it go and let Karma take care of it all, and chose the later.  Karma always won in the end when I've made this choice.  It seems like it would be an easy choice again, but that resentment is gnawing at me like a God-damned weasel in my brain wanting retaliation, and would relish seeing this person behind bars.

So, I look back and remember my rediscovered friend for the answer without even having to ask him.  I have to forgive this person.  I have to take the high road and let Karma take care of the situation.  It always does much better job than I could anyway, and I am saved all the anguish that goes along with having to handle it myself.

I remember witnessing many lessons about different forms of forgiveness, or at least the end result, and one of them cam from the play Les Miserable when I was quite young.  First of all, I don't like plays.  I do not like being made to sit in one place that long as it caused extreme claustrophobia and other various discomforts.  As far as I am concerned, the title translated to "I'm Miserable", and couldn't wait to get out of there.  But I do remember a scene where people were stealing from some man, and he knew it, but kept inviting them to eat at his table.  It seemed so odd to me that it captured my attention, and I never forgot it.

The other similar lesson was from a book I read many ears ago called The Fifth Sacred Thing where more horrible things were happening in the world, and the innocent were inviting the 'enemy' to sit at their table.  There it was again.  It was much different than the 'turning the other cheek' I remember from childhood'.  It was much deeper and much more risky.  Inviting the enemy to break bread with you.  It is not a tactic that I have implemented yet, but I intend to try it.  It has revealed itself to me again and again in ways that has stuck in my consciousness.

So, perhaps my New Year's Resolution will be to give this process a try as a means of forgiveness.  Something tells me that it is the right thing to do, and will perhaps lead to much more than forgiveness, but maybe even understanding, and maybe a little closer to them and to God.

Thank you, my childhood friend.  You set an amazing example for us all.

Asheville’s Pack Square Cultural District

Image via WikipediaI have a long history of maintaining a small business in the heart of Asheville’s “Pack Square Cultural District”.  I wasn’t aware that this part of Asheville’s Downtown had a name until recently when I started to notice signage saying this part of town was this way or that part of town was that way.

I started to consider the name they gave to my section of town.  What did it include and why did they give it this name?  The area includes many restaurants and shops, the City Building and County Courthouse, the fire and police stations, a lovely park area that took a couple of years to complete…but what was the cultural aspect they are referring to?  It all seemed pretty ‘white-bread’, tourist centered to me, except for one little corner that is truly culturally rich and diverse.  That little corner is called Eagle Street.

I first became familiar with Eagle Street when I moved my fledgling business there in 1999.  I immediately fell in love with the small block and our new neighbors, who were ever so welcoming.  It wasn’t until after I moved my business there that I became aware of the rather glooming reputation that Eagle Street sported.  I heard whispers of ‘that’s the black part of town’ to ‘that’s where the drug dealers hang out’.  For the life of me, I couldn’t understand such a rap when I had come to know and love many of the shop owners and patrons of this beautiful tree-lined street.  For me, it was a beautiful safe haven for my business in the most ideal location, and the rent was great!

After a couple of years, my business continued to grow, and I soon found myself outgrowing the space I was in.  At the urging of my accountant, I purchased some property on the outskirts of town to house the major part of my business, but kept one of the pieces of my business right there on Eagle Street.  It was the smallest part of my business, but centrally located and secure, it was to remain right where it was.

Many years later, and in a dramatically different economic climate, I decided to bring the major portion of my business back into the downtown area.  I looked at many areas of town, from north Asheville to the River District, and found myself looking at Eagle Street once again.  I saw tenants who had been there longer than I had and loved visiting with them, catching up after such a long period of time.  Many told me how much they missed me and missed my business.  They told me that Eagle Street had become a ghost town after I left, and it was said with great warmth and heavy hearts.

I decided it was destiny that I return to Eagle Street.  I contacted the property manager of the building where I already occupied space, and he at once appeared, showing me some of the wonderful units that had been lying empty for year.  He agreed to customize them just for my use and even installed shiny new windows for me.  Construction continues and is scheduled for completion on November 15^th, the day we plan to begin moving back in to our culturally diverse neighborhood.

I told our neighbors that I was coming back, and they were overjoyed.  One of my favorite Asheville shop owners, a barber who goes by the name of “Smooth”, said “Welcome home.”.  I was welcomed with open arms by all on this darling street in Asheville.  I knew I was coming home the moment I stepped foot back on Eagle Street.  With its bricked sidewalks and full-growth trees and truly diverse cultural background, I couldn’t feel more at home.  Black, white, Hispanic, men and women from far reaches of the world, all with unique products and services, I am proud to be included in this wonderful family of proud Asheville residents and shop owners.

Asheville really does have a Cultural District, and its heart beats on Eagle Street, as do the hearts of the wonderful people who call it home.  It is amusing to me that anyone would ever consider it to be anything but wonderful.  I’m glad to be coming home.

Peggy Huff is the owner of the Center for Massage & Natural Health.  She has maintained a popular Massage Therapy Center on Eagle Street since 1999 and is moving her COMTA Accredited Massage School and upwards of 50 faculty and staff, along with all her students back to Eagle Street on November 15^th, and hosting a Grand Opening Event on November 19^th.  For more information, visit her website at http://www.CenterForMassage.edu or call (828) 658-0814.

Golden Ratio & Pi

I was watching a Bones rerun recently and the lead character made a statement about a women that her partner was involved with stating that her face was within the Golden Ratio, and through out some mathematical summary.  I had no idea what she was referring to, but knew it had something to do with beauty and symmetry.

Yesterday, I decided to research the term, and found a wealth of information about the Golden Ratio on the internet, including Wikipedia, where I learned that it is all about math...the math of beauty and nature, and that it has been studies and used for more than 2400 years.  It dates back to ancient Greece, and was used by some of the philosophical and mathematical greats, including Plato and Philiads.  The go den ratio is seen in the Parthenon statues and ancient Greek archetecture.

Aesthetically speaking, the Golden Ratio yields pleasing, harmonious propotions in human anatomy as well as in architectural design.  Many of the proportions of the Parthenon itself are alleged to exhibit the Golden Ratio.

Fascinated by what I discovered, I set out to find a Golden Ratio drawing of the human face since it was used to describe someone, and see who I measured up to this mathematical design.  I found a mask-like drawing of both male and female ratios, downloaded it and used it as an overlay on a photo of myself.  To my great surprise, there was almost a perfect match, for which I can thank my mother and father.  Genetics provided me with mathematical symmetry, at least facially.  There is mathematics that apply to the body as well, but we'll leave that one alone for now.

It is also noteworthy that since I was 18 years old, I have been unexplainably drawn to the number 1111.  I have always had an almost overwhelming since of peace whenever I see it, which is quite often.  I discovered this morning that it is not just a mere number, or the attraction to the symmetry of that number in my brain as explained by an astrologer friend of mine, but is part of the Golden Ratio.  Here is the math:

The formula φ = 1 + 1/φ can be expanded recursively to obtain a continued fraction for the golden ratio:^[59]

and its reciprocal:

The convergents of these continued fractions (1/1, 2/1, 3/2, 5/3, 8/5, 13/8, …, or 1/1, 1/2, 2/3, 3/5, 5/8, 8/13, …) are ratios of successive Fibonacci numbers.

The equation φ² = 1 + φ likewise produces the continued square root, or infinite surd, form:

IT'S ALL OVER THE PLACE!  I don't know what it all means, but I am connected to it, absolutely.   I think it connects all of us in some way, but I don't know how yet.  I will explore further and let you 

know if I figure it out.  In the meantime, I will enjoy my Golden Ratio mask image as it makes me look like a superhero.

Love to you all. 

Gold Eyes and Middle Fingers

So, as if my astrological chart isn't anomalous enough, my eyes are changing color and becoming gold, or amber, and I just discovered that I have a triple loop on the middle finger of my left hand.

The eyes becoming amber are rare in humans, and is mostly seen in cats.  The finger pattern was discovered when I was finger printed for a background check, and the woman commented on how very rare a triple loop is.  She actually seemed a little freaked out by it.

I did a little research and found a man who is a finger pattern expert and he listed all the various types of finger print patterns from most common to most rare, and mine wasn't even listed.  So, I wrote to him and told him of what I discovered about my own print, and he immediately asked for a digital copy of it.  I tried scanning it, but too small, and I don't have an ink pad to make a copy, but I'll get one and send it off to him.  He said he has never seen one, nor has he ever hear of or read of one like mine, and is highly intrigued.

So, I don't know what it all means.  But it probably explains to some extent why my life is as colorful as it is, and always has been.  I'll let you know about the 'triple loop' if/when I ever learn more about it.

As for the eyes...meow.

Craving The Balsamic Moon Phase, Aged, of Course

My brilliant astrologer called me last night because he saw my FaceBook posts about me chopping my hair. He wanted to know if I was okay, knowing that this had significant meaning, at least in astrological or maybe emotional terms.

As it turns out, I am at a turning point in my life, where EVERYTHING is about to change, and I can feeling it coming, like a freight train.  There will be no stopping it, an I have no desire to resist it either.  I am ready for it, in fact, I called for it just days ago.  I posted something on FB like "Okay world, bring it on!  I'm ready!".  Geeze...I don't know if I am prophetic, plain-ol' sensitive or if I should be really careful what I 'pray' for!  Anyway, change is here, and it is big.

First, my 3-year relationship ended very abruptly two days ago.  Completely unexpected.  Three years of promises, love, bonding, commonality, expectation (there's a mistake), and ongoing plans for the future.  Then I call him out on 'chatting' with another woman, and BAM...it's over.  No dialog, no explanation, no warning, no nothing.  Just a hundred forms of blocking one another from this and that form of communication.  For all intents and purposes, he has vanished into the ethers as if he had never existed, and I am left with a profound sense of  freedom/relief/closure/happiness/grief, etc., but most of all a vacuum that has begun to suck all kinds of goodness into my life that was being blocked by my attachment to him.  I feel a bit like I am being suddenly catapulted into the known and unknown, and it is   a very exciting ride.

Like many dreams I have, I am flying above my life, having a good look around, and seeing everything that I am letting go of, with great delight I might add, and waving goodbye without an ounce of regret.  I have been on a path for the last 25 years of building and working and building and working and building and working, and it is complete now.  There will likely remain remnants of it, but I don't feel like they will be my remnants.  Perhaps just a subtle legacy and fond memories.

My catapulted ride has not landed yet, so I have no idea what is next...well, maybe I have some idea, but I don't want to put any expectations out there...I've learned my lesson about that little poisonous tidbit.  But I am free to let go and dream and let providence have its way with me.  I am unafraid, and ready for what my next mission is, and know it will be my best one yet.

I'll let you know what it is when I find out.

Until then, much love and many blessings to all of you.
Peggy

Reflective Idols

An argument ensued over the last 24 that stemmed from one person having idols and the other (me) not having any.  It has inspired deep thought about myself (my favorite thing), the people in my life, the people not in my life, and people of different cultures and belief systems, and I found that this topic did not have any borders, socially, politically, economically or otherwise.

What are idols, and why do so many have them, and even have to have them, and why do I not?  Are either of these choices or needs helpful or destructive, right or wrong?  My ponderance of the day as I drink my illegal raw goat's milk cappuccino in the state of North Carolina.

It all started while discussing history with my significant other when he proclaimed that his idol lived in the 1700's and was none other than Casanova.  Giacomo Casanova.  My initial gut reaction was "Blech!" The quintessential womanizer of all time.  I was first shocked, then appalled, and then I was scared.  How could the man I love aspire to be a man of this moral character?  I must admit that I pretty much saw the writing on the wall on this one.  Those red flags that pop up from time to time were waving obnoxiously in my face like an annoying swarm of black flies as I tried desperately to deflect the swarm with my brain rather than my hands.

Immediately after receiving this tidbit of information, I gave myself a mini-education via an encyclopedic synopsis of Casanova's life, and learned that there was much more to the man then just womanizing.  He was a gambler (and a bad one), lived on the money and graciousness of other people, was imprisoned on multiple occasions, one of which he escaped from and fled that country, was allowed back many years later, only to be evicted again, was in and out of various religious venues and kicked out...it just kept going on and on, and my stomach became more and more queazy.  As far as I could tell, the gig for this gigolo was exposed, and it was up.  There was nothing nobel or moral or appealing to me in this personality type.

But the man I know is more intelligent Casanova was, by far.  It was curious to me that this would be his idol.  Upon more careful study, I found there were striking similarities in their interests, including law, language, mathematics, and the desire to mingle with high society in a desire to see himself in or be accepted into a higher class.  Seeing this, and putting my own emotions aside (that would be the continuous emotion of wanting to vomit), it made me take a closer look at what makes one idolize another.  What is it that makes one an idol of another?

First, the whole notion of idolizing someone is a turn-off for me, personally.  To worship another person would make me feel less than them, and I am not less than anyone.  And to be worshiped by another person would make me feel more than them, and I am not more than anyone either.  It is my deep belief that I am the same as everyone.  Human.  I am the good.  I am the bad.  I am the ugly.  So are you.  So was Casanova.  So was Hitler.  So was Mother Teresa and Jesus.  All human, in all its forms.  So why idol one over the other?

I believe it is more an issue of objectivity.  A desire to see one's self in another, to see our humanity in a way that is validating.  Someone in my distant past once told me that it is impossible to see oneself objectively.  I don't know if this is a true statement or not, but it stayed with me since my youth, and if it is impossible, or perhaps very difficult, finding "idols" makes perfect sense.  Seeking out people of history, past or present, with whom we can most closely identify with gives us the ability to see ourselves more clearly.  They are like having a mirror for our soul.

A personal example of this is during the past year, I went through a period of reclusivity that included a bit of mania and no interest in personal hygiene.  For a few weeks, I declared that Howard Hughes was my idol, much to the horror of my Mom.  My declaration spurred me to read more about him, and I found that there was much more to Hughes then the popular notion that he was just a crazy, stinky man with a lot of money.  He was, in fact, brilliant, achieved many tremendous accomplishments and was a man of great character who was plagued with a bit of mental illness.  Of course, now I idolized him even more.

Having showered recently, taken my morning dose of anti-depressent medication and having had a good night's sleep, I can see myself a bit more clearly, and can see that I wasn't idolizing Hughes.  I was identifying with him.  I didn't want to be like him...I was like him, just as my aforementioned significant other saw himself in Casanova.

Relieving the compulsion to puke, I now realize that our idols shift and change as our mutable souls and psyches search for new mirrors to look into.  Reflections of who we are today may come in the form of Madonna (the pop singer), Madonna (Mother Mary) or Madonna (smirking her way through eternity).  You may see yourself through your child or your dog or a stranger on a bus, or maybe, if you look hard enough into your own eyes, you can see yourself when you look in the mirror.

Regardless of how you come to see yourself, the beauty is that if you don't like who you see, you can change who you are and maybe even become your own idol.  It is then that we see ourselves objectively.

I wonder who will reflect me today.  Maybe it will be me.