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.

A Prayer To Remember

Saturday, on an impulsive whim, I packed up my Airstream and escaped into the National Forest for a 2-week reprieve from my reality.  Faced with various business issues and some difficult impending decisions that must be made, I craved the peace and quiet of nature, where I could become more grounded and perhaps gain some clarity regarding my path, missing any maps I could hold in my hand from which I could chart my course much more easily.

 On my arrival here, I discovered I had not properly winterized my home away from home, and the toilet plumbing had sprung a nasty leak, which flooded my humble abode while I was outside primping and pruning, pulling out all the awnings and breathing deep the forest pine-scented air.  So, my trip essentially started with emergency water valve location identification education and soaking up all the toilet water that was seeping into every nook and cranny.  Plumber’s putty didn’t stop the gusher, so off the valve went on the toilet, which is now being flushed with a bowl of water from the kitchen sink as the faucet in the bathroom is also leaking.  Ugh.  Not the kind of energy I was hoping to experience here.  But I am camping, so okay.

One of the reasons I thought to get away from it all is to find quiet meditative inspiration, or at least a clue to what my life should become.  My professional life is at a crossroads, as is my personal life and love life.  In fact, I think I am on the brink of total destruction and chaos and possible annihilation.

On my third day, unable to find any form of peace, I knew a storm was rolling in.  There were sever thunderstorm and wind warnings all over the region, and I new it would be coming straight through the forest where I was managing to flush my toilet manually.

Sure enough, just after dark, I saw flashes of light in the distance and the wind picked up, swaying the trees quite strongly, back and forth. As the flashes became brighter, I could hear the thunder following them in their requisite number of seconds later, giving me a general idea how long it would be until I would be right under it in my steel plated camper with the antennae fully extended.  I cranked it down, just in case, even though I kinda’ wanted to leave it up.

I decided to turn off the TV and all the lights and experience the storm fully from my fairly well protected bed, my dog, Angel, lying at my feet.  I closed my eyes and felt the storm coming closer and closer, and could now feel the rumbling of the thunder and the sway of the trailer from the heavy winds.  I could also see the flashes of light through my closed eyes and tingled with anticipation of the bang that followed, not knowing if one of them might be from a tree falling on me, or the possibility of a direct lightening strike.  I was hoping that in this unusually intense but meditative state, I would here an inner voice speak to me, have some brilliant insight as to how to get myself out of the mess I find myself in or at least find the hidden answer to one of my thousand questions.  All I found was myself waking up at 8:30 the next morning, not the least bit refreshed.

Jesus, day 4, and I am worse off then when I started on my peace mission.  Depression, cold weather, Angel looking at me with his big chocolate pudding colored eyes longing for me to be happy enough to take him out for a walk.  I mustered the energy to take him out for a walk with my first cup of coffee, and crossed paths with a distinguished looking gentleman walking his very fat and fluffy dog, wearing a suit coat and also carrying a cup of coffee.  We exchanged a few colorful words about the weather and continued on in our opposite directions.

I returned to the trailer as lost as I could be when I received a txt message from a quasi friend who announced that his cancer had returned with a vengeance and his doctor gave him no more than two years to live.  I should have felt bad for him.  Any normal person would have.  But I didn’t.  I felt jealous and envious.  I knew I was in trouble.  

Just then, when putting my purse in the overhead storage, I saw a CD that a friend mailed to me last year.  My friend, Fran McKendree.  I met him many years ago when I first moved to Asheville, and we recently re-connected via Facebook and have had some very beautiful exchanges.  He had emailed me a song he wrote, and I told him how beautiful I thought it was.  The soon after mailed me his CD, and I put it in my trailer last year and didn’t get around to listening to it at that time.  But now it caught my eye and my full attention.  The title of the CD is “Awake”.  I put it in my disc player and laid on the sofa with a blanket over me.  The music was beautiful, filled with songs about God and Jesus.  It was a little bit like being in Church as some of the songs I recognized from going to Mass years back.

As I laid there, I was hoping maybe from Fran’s beautiful music I could connected with something outside or inside myself that would lend itself to feelings of peace and tranquility, but despite the beauty of the melodies and spiritual nature of the lyrics, I was not connect to any of it.  Even as I gazed out the windows up into the swaying trees and the blue sky and white clouds passing by, which was by all accounts as beautiful as the music I was listening to, nothing.  Not until the end of the disc.  There was a song that was not sung, but spoken by Fran about fire, and how there has to be empty space between the wood for the fire to burn, and that all we need to do is put an occasional piece of wood on the fire for it to continue to burn.

That was it! That was the answer and guidance I was looking for.  An old lesson that I had somehow forgotten.  It is not up to me to get me out of this mess.  It is up to God.

All I have to do is to do the next right thing…put an occasional log on the fire.  I have lived this experience profoundly so many times in the past, I can hardly believe that I forgot the many lessons I have already learned about it. My life is none of my business. I had forgotten.  No wonder I felt so utterly powerless.  That is because I am.  And to fight against that is like not only exhausting, but terrifying to the point of paralysis.

As I draw a deep breath of relief into my lungs and listen to my fingers type my words automatically as I think them (so amazing and magical when you think about it), my thoughts go to one place…God.  Okay, two places: God and my stomach, which is hungry.  It is close to 7pm now, and I will do my best to re-member who and what I am, and let go of it.  All of it.  It is when I let go of all things that magic starts to happen. Providence takes place of self-will, and I am able to experience serenity and tranquility in the midst of chaos and uncertainty. And that is a place I wish to live.  Peace lives there.

God’s will, not mine, be done.

Amen

PS: Thank you, Fran, for your ongoing inspiration.