True Love

Sometimes being adopted really bugged me. People would always ask, "Do you know who your real family is?" Even going to a new doctor, as they asked about genetic history, I'd always have to put, "I don't know."

I dreamed about my natural mother at night, fantasizing about her during the day. Even as I would walk down the street I'd always wonder if she were passing me on the sidewalk without my knowing it. I'd look into people's faces and eyes, searching for the natural familiarity that seemed to exist between parents and children.

In 1984 I thought I was losing my hair. I'd go to my stylist and ask her if my hairline was receding. I wasn't finding clumps of it in the sink or on my pillow, I just truly believed I was losing my hair for some reason.

When I found my natural family in 1989, I learned that at the very same time I was convinced I was losing my hair, my natural mother was in fact losing hers from chemotherapy. She died before I could meet her, but the reality that we were still connected in our silence taught me that love knows no dimension. True love doesn't know time, distance, life, death...true love exists beyond my pedestrian experiences and comprehension. True love is energy, therefore, it can be shaped and moved.

I feel her with me all the time now, I know our unity is only a heartbeat away.

Until next time,

Peace.

The African LIon-Dog

As a refuge owner I get all kinds of calls, inquiries and accusations. Most wind up being very amusing in some sense. This particular incident took place a few years ago when the refuge was new enough not to have a track record of safety.

Nine o'clock in the morning, a knock comes on the door. I opened the door to find two cops looking serious. "Are any of your tigers missing?"

After I put my eyeballs back in their sockets, I brought the officers to the compound and counted tigers. They were all there. So, "No, every one's here...", as I go on to explain the gazillion safety measures I've taken.

One officer says that a lady down the street called the cops, saying she'd been trapped in her car by an African lion. I told him that I didn't have any lions and I hadn't heard about anyone who had them in the area. Apparently the woman had come home and an African lion was in her yard and trapped her in her car. When the lion walked off, she'd raced into the house and called the police.

The police in turn contacted the Tulsa Zoo saying there was an African lion on the loose. The Zoo told the police to be very careful and they dispatched someone to come out with a tranquilizer gun and a team to capture the animal.

The officer at my house told me the story and so I asked him if it could have been a mountain lion, one of which was rumored to be living in this area. He said he didn't know.

I knew that an African lion and a mountain lion would have very different behaviors, and knowing their behaviors would help the police. The officer drove me to the woman's house so I could interview her and possibly help in capturing the animal.

When I got there, she was almost hysterical. Lights were flashing, half a dozen cop cars, higher and higher officials coming and going; this was getting interesting.

I began to interview her. "How close was he?"

"Oh, he was only about six feet away!"

"Did you notice any markings?"

"No, I was too scared."

"Do you remember the shape of its ears?" (Mountain lions have pointed ears, African lions: round.)

"No, I didn't notice, I was too scared."

"Okay, how big was it?"

She pointed to the bottom of her kneecap.

Not an African lion, maybe a bobcat. If it had been an African lion, at that size, the poor little thing would have been terrified, not bold and aggressive, or even big enough to trap a woman in a car.

I called out into the woods, "Boys, put the 9 mils away, it's probably a bobcat!" I felt their relief, their beehive had been seriously rattled with this.

I continued to interview the woman.

I asked her what happened and she told me the whole story, barely able to hold it together.

To help her, I walked her outside so she could get some fresh air as she talked. As we were talking out there, she looked up to the road and her eyes became big and terrified. She pointed and said, "That's it! That's the African lion that trapped me!"

I looked up to the road and saw the animal sitting in the road, staring at us.

"Are you sure ma'am?"

Still pointing, "Yes! That's the African lion!"

"Um, ma'am, that's a dog."

Nobody so much as snickered, we all felt sorry for her.

The dog, although dun colored, was just sitting there wagging its tail, watching all the commotion from the side of the road.

Mystery solved.

Until next time,

Peace.

A Bit About Skydiving

Trust me when I tell you that skydiving is not for everyone. Especially for me, I was bad at it. But I loved it for the ridiculous smile it gave me and the sense of raw fun. Nothing like the smell of jet fuel and hurtling to the earth (unmotorized) at 187 mph to start one's day.
Personally I was going through a very tough time and knew I had to do something that would wake up my sense of fun and wonder; something totally outrageous. So, I learned how to skydive.
Since a bad skydiver equals a dead skydiver, I had to quit jumping. I really miss it though; I look at planes flying overhead and wonder where the exit door is and whether or not I've ever jumped from one.
I have lots of precious memories of my friends, of the fun we'd have in freefall as well as on the ground. Skydiving is a whole lifestyle, not just a sport.
One particularly sweet memory comes to mind today:
I was in freefall and noticed I was several hundred feet above a hawk circling her pastures. As I came toward her, I dipped my shoulder to follow her spirals. For a moment there was just the two of us in the whole world, me and a hawk.
She flew off to continue hunting and I opened canopy to float home.

An African Black-Maned Lion Named Zeus

The first time I met the lions I knew I was home. Looking into their golden-green eyes, I saw the beauty and nobility of my own simple soul. I knew the adult male would fight to the death to protect me, I had become a member of the pride.
In the mornings, I'd go around the compound saying hi to the various animals and check on their well-being.
At first Zeus gave me his shoulder to scratch. After a few weeks of that he'd lie down next to the fence so I could scratch his back and neck.
I slowly made my way through his mane, getting closer and closer to his ears and eyes (his survival gear), earning his trust.
Then one day I saw he had sleepy feathers in his eyes and I went to brush them away. Zeus snorted and snapped at my hand. It wasn't an aggressive snap, it was just letting me know he wasn't ready yet.
Some time went by and he began to let me rub his eyes.
After these trials of trust, in the mornings, Zeus would come out of his den and lie down in front of the fence; on his back, all fours askew in the air. He'd put his head up against the fence and I'd massage his forehead. After just a few minutes he'd fall soundly asleep.