Standing Women will stand again on May 11, 2008.

Last May hundreds of thousands of women and girls, along with the men and boys they love, in 75 countries and on all continents of the world stood together in parks, on beaches, in churches, at graduation ceremonies, in their backyards and at school yards or anyplace they could find to stand in a global wave of humanity in support of a better world for our children.

We will be standing for the world's children and grandchildren, and for the seven generations  beyond them. We dream of a world where all of our children have safe drinking water, clean air to breathe, and enough food to eat. A world where they have access to a basic education to develop their minds and healthcare to nurture their growing bodies. A world where they have a warm, safe and loving place to call home. A world where they don't live in fear of violence-in their home, in their neighborhood, in their school or in their world. This is the world of which we dream. This is the cause for which we stand.

We will stand again this May 11 at 1 p.m. local time. 

Please view our Standing Women website at  http://www.standingwomen.org

And view our YouTube video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_eNJ4oVQKxU

We hope you will stand with us again.

And, we hope that you will help us spread the word about Standing Women to people all over the world.

Thanks so much.

Deb from Ohio, USA

brad

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Maya here...now comes the exercise...ready?  Reach your hands around behind you and grab your arse.  Is it still there?  Good.  Now, walk on.  There will be better days...and there will be worse days...all mix to give a depth of flavour you never would've dreamt of...if you weren't brave enough to keep walking this way.  The scenery keeps returning, like a ride on the carousel...but your eyes find new magic in each spiral...that's no lie.

I am no cultivated flower

no product nor progeny

of home soil

no homecoming queen

nor conquering hero

defined

by lines made in sand

nations of the moment

my seed was born wild and

carried on the wind

sprouted crossing seas and

storms of intimate darkness

roots reaching somewhere

just beyond the moment

somewhere between the atoms

I will touch lightly the lands

I light upon

rest sweetly a moment on the

breast of the mother

seeking all my days her

secret and sacred spaces

to birth myself again and again

until my robes shred and

fly in the wind like the

fading coloured prayer flags

on a distant high plateau 

My daughter was born on December 6^th 1980.  Of course she was fashionably late (her due date being November 19^th ) making her entrance in Huntington Hospital, Long Island.  The thing is, if you ask me her birth date, I have to think for a minute so as not to say Dec. 8^th instead.

The night of Dec. 8^th I was on the phone with my brother in L.A., telling him all about his new niece, when one of his dogs bumped against his television and turned it on.  He asked me to hold on a second, then I heard a shocked, “What?” and he told me to turn on my television.

John Lennon had just been shot. 

That quirky quicksilver talent, that imperfect striving spirit of music…of peace and love…was gone.  My brother and I sat in silence, coast to coast, as our lives flashed in front of us in a montage of pictures with full soundtrack.  Yes, John Lennon was a flawed human being.  His was the essence of our evolving generation…imperfect but striving for a Love that could unite the world’s people in peace.  His was the pain of our wounded generation…and he was so honest about it that we couldn’t help but see ourselves.

We make the loving joke in our family that John Lennon is my daughter’s “Patron Saint,” and present in her life.  She grew up loving the Beatles’ music and loving John’s writings and drawings.  She corresponded with Yoko Ono (which I thought most gracious of Ms. Ono) for a time.  The postcard of John, giving the peace sign in front of the Statue of Liberty, is always up on our bulletin board.  The one of him with his arms crossed in a NY tee-shirt marks the slot where prescriptions for my daughter are kept.

Today I honour the man, the memories, and all that wonderful music.  Ah John, how I would’ve loved your perspective on this stage of life and lovin’. 

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...about being culinarily-challenged...here's a pic I call "The Kettle Graveyard"...just some of the kettles I have done-in while forgetting I was making tea....

Whoops...seems the pic was cut off...but you get the idea.  What does Maya make for dinner......reservations!  Or...a peanut butter and jam sammich....

Once upon a time of the Medicine Wheel, there was a young girl of a desert tribe.  She was afraid of death and, in holding onto her fear, her spirit became misplaced and she became ill.  None who loved her were able to help.

Now, at this time there was an old, old woman who lived by herself in a canyon, close to the pueblo.  She was held in great reverence by the people, though few came close to her, for spirits had talked through her since she was a child.  She heard of the young girl and sent for her.

The girl’s father carried her to the old woman’s fire and set her gently down beside it.  He stroked his daughter’s hair and disappeared into the night, leaving her to face its magic.  She turned her head like a frightened fawn at the rattle from the other side of the fire.

 The mist is snaking through the trees like long white hair, tangled in the fingers of a lover.  There's a blush of pink against the silver of the sky just over the ridge and the small pewter-coloured clouds scud down the Sound.  All this deelish smoky silence...and a cuppa to warm me cockles.  Ooh, some clouds are becoming coral at the edges with the rising sun.

Yesterday's wedding was so beautiful...held in an old barn that was decorated with fairie lights and gauzy white veiling.  An iron arbour had been set up, though I had them remove the back of it...otherwise it wasn't deep enough to let the bride and groom stand under.  With the back off, I could set up my podium just behind the arch, leaving room for them to be in the right spot.  The arbour was set up on the small stage...you see, this barn is used for the Olympic Music Festival.  Nice cushioned pews had been brought in on the main floor and there was a hayloft gallery in the back, with bales of straw for more seating.  The whole effect was relaxed magic in the kindest glowing light.  Massive heaters had warmed the space to comfortable, just prior to the ceremony.

To a great classical guitar rendition of Led Zepplin's "Stairway to Heaven" the bridal party came in, gorgeous in the fall colours of brown, gold and deep burgundy.  I had to do some mighty inner-lip biting not to begin leaking when the bride came in on the arm of a dear, elderly friend.  Her gown was a stunning strapless, tight in the bodice and full in the skirt.  Champagne-coloured brocade and embroidery, not overdone, softened and gave an old-fashioned look.  Her Great-Grandma's cameo was pinned between her breasts.  My daughter later reminded her of the day she showed us this cameo, nearly a decade ago, and had exclaimed she would wear it if he EVER decided to get married.

I love to facilitate wedding ceremonies...and when the couple is a part of your Circle...well, it just feels so heart-cookin' good, y'know?  I felt the strong presence of the groom's mother (and I'm sure the bride's mother too, though we never met) for the last ceremony before this was her passing.  Circles...Cycles...Rhythms of Life...and the River Life flows in....Love...both Creator and Destroyer...and, in the Unconditional Love....Balance.  This couple spend most of their time in rivers (oh honey, can they smoke salmon!) and so this is what I wrote to include in the ceremony:

When Two Rivers Twine

Rivers forever run their own journey,
Each one's current and course unique,
But Nature carves a mighty plan
When two such rivers meet.

Rapids roiled them together,
Fed by each other's streams,
Resting pools, deep and still,
Reflected each other's dreams.

Far have they come from their meeting,
Winding miles have yet to run,
Yes, Nature carves a mighty plan
When two rivers twine as one.

The party was just gearing-up when we slipped out to go home.  That Bella Luna...Auntie Moon...was dancing in and out of mottled, inky clouds, a rainbow and soft gold halo around her.  How grateful I am to be part of All This.