Curandera

A curandero (or curandera for a female) is a traditional folk healer or shaman prevalent in Latin America, and especially in Mexico and in Chicano communities in the southwestern United States. They are often respected members of the community, being highly religious and spiritual. Literally translating as "healer" from Spanish, curanderos often use herbs and other natural remedies to cure illnesses, but their primary method of healing is the supernatural. This is because they believe that the cause of many illnesses is evil spirits, the punishment of God, or a curse. (Taken from Wikipedia) Some folks at work refer to me as a 'curandera', although I do not consider myself to be one. I believe that ancestrally, there are healers from both sides of my blood line. My grandfather (my father's father-who is FIlipino) was considered to have healing powers. He died when I was 4 years old, so I never saw that part of him. My aunt has some incredible stories of his abilities. From my mother's side, there are a few in the nursing profession (I don't know if we have any MD's). And, I think my mom passed along a lot of common sense which seems to come in handy in dealing with everyday ailments. I have evolved into one who practices integrative medicine. Much of what I know is derived from a wide array of reference books and learning from those who have been trained in naturopathy and homeopathy. I can't say that I could ever fully embrace the principles of being a curandera, since I don't think that illness is a form of punishment from God. "The mind is its own place, and in itself can make heaven of hell, or hell of heaven. (John Dorphine)

Flotsom and Jetsom

Where have I been? This feels like blogger confession...forgive me, folks, but my last blog was 10 days ago. Hey, but I really have a good excuse (I always do). Since the last post, we've had 8th grade graduation, out of town company and 3 days at Dizzeyland in Anaheim. It was fun, but I'm STILL tired from all of that activity. The image posted is truly flotsom and jetsom. It is a SMALL fraction of what I found at a "fishing hole" along the coast of Moloka'i summer 2005. It is north east of Mo'omomi beach for those familiar with the island. For any artist out there who loves to work with recycled things or anything that is aged and worn, this place is paradise! I never saw so many fishing floats, fishing nets, rubber slippers (that's flip flops in mainlander lingo), driftwood a plenty. My only regret is that I couldn't haul any of the stuff home! In particular, there was a huge piece of driftwood that was the trunk of a very large tree; worn down to a smooth, white finish from the miles and miles of salty sea travel. It's fun to imagine the journey the flotsom and jetsom took to get to that shore. The sea current comes from the Siberian Straights, so the debris' origin can be anywhere from Japan to Alaska (and MAYBE even Russia). Or, as close as from across the channel or from someone else along the shore. Today's car tunes: Brahms Requiem

Moloka'i Canoe Club

I go home to Moloka'i about every other year. Been doing that for quite sometime now; my last trip home was in July 2005. Whenever I go home, I take a ton of photos. This last trip home I decided that I needed to build up my color slide inventory so that I could have more images to work from with Polaroid transfers and Polaroid SX-70 manipulations. This image is a Polaroid transfer. Moloka'i Canoe Club is right outside of the main town, Kaunakaka'i where the wharf begins. Not much to it, but you can feel the energy there from the paddlers who usually practice in the late afternoon. When my younger cousins were still living there, it was neat to see them out there on the silvery waters paddling away. It's a pretty good feeling to know that you know one or two of the paddlers; an honor, really. Every October (first weekend, I think) there is a canoe race from Moloka'i to Oahu. It's a really big deal and the race is grueling. When my younger sister was in high school, she used to paddle and participated in that race one year. My only regret is that I didn't get to see her in the race because I was in college living in San Diego at that time and didn't know she was in the race. I would've loved to have been there for that. My parents never let me see the race as it involved an overnight camping trip down at the beach from where they took off. I suppose the late night partying and beer drinking was not something they wanted their daughter around. I'll post more images of this canoe club at a future date since this image is of the outdoor shower that they rinse off at after they paddle.

Kindred Spirits

It's been 8 1/2 years since mom passed away, and I still miss her. It seems that after I got married in 1985, our relationship began to change from mother daughter to one of a very special friendship, while maintining the mother-daughter relationship. We became kindred spirits. I really miss being able to pick up the phone and talking to her about what would be such trivial things to anyone else; she could rejoice in my eveyday, mundane triumphs. She had become a master gardener, so I could troubleshoot any gardening problems with her. I miss her visits here and having her hang out with us. She ahd lost her right leg back in 1991 right after our son John, was born. It had been a very difficult adjustment for one who had been so active and independent. But, so many great life lessons she had taught me! Yesterday, I was talking with a friend about "momisms". Her mom had many variations to the one, "if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you?". The "momisms" I remember the most is, "that's the way the cookie crumbles" and "when there is a will, there is a way". Funny, now that I'm a mom, I feel like like my "momisms" fall on deaf ears, but in reflecting back, they have made a huge impact on how I approach life. So, I guess I shall keep moving forward with the "momsims" with my son and hope they make a difference too. But, I still miss my mom...happy Mother's Day, mom!

Tres flores

Dance, dance, dance!

Dancing is perhaps my first love...growing up on Molokai, I don't remember when I saw dance for the first time. I think it was a snippet of somehing on the old telvision; maybe even the Ed Sullivan show. All I know is that I do love to dance and never got the chance until later in life. I remember one afternoon putting on an LP of my mom's album (it was ballet music of some kind; probably "Dance Macbre"), and spun around the living room pretending I knew how to dance. When I was living away from home going to an all girl's high school on Oahu, I even researched ballet studios in the area to see if I could work it in my schedule. Only problem was that the bus stopped running after class let out and it was too far to walk in the dark (the distance didn't bother me; it was the safety issue). When siging up for my classes my first semester at University of Hawaii, all my first and second choices were closed out and my friend told me to just sign up for P.E. classes that were open. Imagine my absolute delight when I saw that ballet was open at the time I needed! I haven't stopped taking dance since then; more than 30 some odd years later. We do have some good studios here in the Albuquerque area; especially for adults who want to take calsses during the day. The comraderie is special; I have known the same group of women taking ballet classes since I moved here 12 years ago. At age 51, I am one of the younger ones in the group. I am going to see, "Carmen" (Ballet Theatre New Mexico) today with my friend, Oma. I think she is around 66 years old and still dancing! Women like her inspire me to never stop; just because the years add up doesn't mean you have to stop participating in life!

Ta Da!

...a few hours later from my last post, I've learned some of the basic functions of my digital camera. For those who are adept at their digital camera, you're probably wondering why anyone would write about it? I dunno...nice to set goals and meet them so that you can raise the bar higher for new goals. Das all.

Zoom Gali Gali

Ah well, the tilte has nothing to do with the blathering that is about to occur. Woke up at 4 a.m. today with nasty allergies. I've taken everything under the sun and used the "integrative" approach. Homeopathic and OTC's...all to no avail. The pollen count is off the charts and eveyone feels it. I tried to go into the office to work, but lasted only 2 hours. Now, I sit here, induced into a stupor from Benadryl. I am desperate! At leaset I know that in a few weeks or however long it takes, the trees will stop this silly nonsense of releasing in ordinate amounts of pollen into the air and perhaps I can get back to my (ha) state of 'normal'! Alright, alright. The image is not really me, but the image representation and the concept behind it is an aspect of 'me'. It was such a cool graphic image (you've seen it in magazine ads I'm sure), that I just HAD to use it! It is altered to suit my needs. What we reveal of ourselves to others changes from one moment to the next, but we never, ever do a full reveal. Not even to ourselves. Others engage in the masking behavior to the nth degree that they no longer know (or never knew) who they are. I am always in a quest to unmask myslef; some days I do so quite vigorously, others I barely touch the surface. I not only practice on myslef, but others. Helps me to be the compassionate person that I want to be. However, my task that lay before me is to conquer my digital camera! Being a print film buff all my life (to the point of obsession), I am now trying to add this format to my repetoire. As I have success in this latest quest, images will be posted to this blog. Keep tuning in!