Upcoming Guests on My Radio Show Healing Wisdom

Violinist, song writer and shamanic healer Onyay Pheori discussing her upcoming albums.

London stage actress Rachel Handshaw discussing her muses, Shakespeare, poetry and inspiration.

Dr. Rupert Sheldrake, biologist author discussing the interconnectedness of all things, new science and skepticism.

Feminist author and Dianic Wiccan Zsuzsanna Budapest, discussing her amazing autobiography about her fascinating life through political unrest, as an immigrant refugee. Her journey had her fleeing in the stealth of the night from occupied Hungary to Austria via swamplands, to studying improv at Second City in Chicago, acting in New York art films, and starting the women's spiritual movement in the 1960s, a subsequent witch trial and interview with Johnny Carson.

Dr. Seeta Narsai, Ayurvedic doctor discussing motherhood from a mind-body health perspective.

Boston-based Odissi-style belly dancer Kalidasi Burgess discusses this ancient temple dance from India and Hindu spirituality.

Tune in Thursday mornings at 9am EST/6am PST to hear Healing Wisdom live streaming at http://womr.org or if you live anywhere from Provincetown to New Bedford, you can find us at 92.1 WOMR-fm Ptown or 91.3 WFMR-fm Orleans

Dr. Robert M. Siegel on Childhood Obesity

Tomorrow on Healing Wisdom, is Dr. Robert M. Siegel, medical director of the Center for Better Health and Nutrition of the Heart Institute at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center and he’s joining us by phone. Dr. Siegel is a professor of Clinical Pediatrics at the University of Cincinnati. He earned his MD from New York University. He was a general pediatrician for more than twenty years before joining the Heart Institute and was president of the Medical Staff at Cincinnati Children’s from 2008 to 2010. Dr. Siegel’s research interests include dietary and physical activity interventions in obese children. Tune in to 92.1 WOMR-fm, 91.3 WFMR-fm or http://womr.org at 9am est.

2,400 Acres of Tribal Land Set to be Usurped

Indian Givers! When does it stop? When there is not a single spot of land for the native people of this country? This is not 'uninhabited' conservation lands where only plants and animals and their ecosystems are being disrupted and destroyed, which would be horrible enough. With European settlers' history of creating genocide on the original people of this country, hunting their food sources, battling them until they moved to nearly inhospitable regions further West, and then demanding by death or imprisonment that they pick up their cities and move again, how can this THIS be happening? Whatever happened to the vision of folks like John Muir?

As part of the NDAA, the House passed a bill which steals 2,400 acres of Apache Native American lands and hands it over to a foreign mining company to exploit and destroy. This means that access to all of the traditions and cultural teachings associated with the last vestiges of lands which facilitate the communication of sacred knowledge and teaching of cultural wisdom and identification is being robbed out from under our collective feet. These are our brothers and sisters. This means that the space native people were given to live, practice their ceremonies, have access to medicinal plants, and create community is being robbed from them in the name of national security. Since when did inhibiting religious freedom and creating cultural genocide become part of a defense budget plan? I guess that is a strategy that has been oft employed.

Mother Earth and the Death Culture

The difference between Mars and Venus is that war-like Mars energy promotes conquering, competition, and death, and love-promoting Venus energy promises unification, community, and life. Why do so many people feel betrayed by religion? Why does it fall so short of our expectations for so many of us? We can try to extract the aspects of it that reflect the cultural misogyny, racism, classicism, xenophobia, and other political agendas that clouded the spirituality at the roots of organized religion. Once we make a concerted effort to sterilize old doctrines, viewing them through politically correct rose-colored glasses based on our modern conventional wisdom, what we have left looks very much like the tenants and customs of the old earth-centered religions which centered on creating balance and harmony between plants, animals, people and our planet. When we extract the patriarchal and misogynistic constructions and ideologies of monotheism, purging them of futile exercises in condemnation of our basic humanity, we are less left at odds with our nature, less at odds with one another and more compassionate to the world around us upon which we are dependent.

What is religion in the tradition of monotheism? It is the rituals and belief in purifying oneself and absolving oneself of intrinsic deficiencies and acquired sin to be accepted by God in the afterlife. It is preparing oneself for death and life ever-after. The path of the earliest earth-based religions celebrate the cycles of life, preserving the perfection, wholeness and integrity of original self, the global community and the earth. It is preparing oneself for life and living in love. The fear of death and loss of safety makes the status quo desirable, whereas the courage to embrace life and its unknowns requires people take chances and make ongoing changes. When fear is replaced by courage, doubt is replaced by faith, repression is replaced by expression, avoidance is replaced by exploration, competition is replaced by community, free will replaces blind obedience, and a knee-jerk inherited value-system locked into shame, guilt, regret and self-hatred is replaced by beliefs based on authentic experience, kindness, love and creativity thrives.

There is nothing wrong with single parent families, but there is something innately destructive to societal structures that do not honor the feminine as holy and divine, as equal with the masculine. There is something critically fatalistic and futile in a religion that excludes the Mother Creator figure, and renders the only important mother as mere vessels of God's seed, Mother Mary. Is it any wonder Father God is so pissed off and angry all the time slinging around eternal damnation like a cowboy in the Wild West shooting his pistol on the dry chaparral of immortality with no wife to keep him company. All alone and unmatched on his omnipotent mountain in his wrathful and eternal perfection.

Incredibly Distasteful News Brief

Cracking the Pandora Myth: How Women's Pussies Got Blamed for the Downfall of Mankind Which Actually Led to It. Working title ;) Picked up major steam in some fabulous revelations for my book this week.

Fracking for The Cure on Planet Pandora...In National News: Scientists for Surgical Hair Removal have linked depression, low self-esteem & the inability to get a date with pubic hair. For The Cure: Feminists for Cosmetic Liposuction teamed up with Pink Drill Bits for Fracking to create pink EstroBits, SoyGrrrl donuts for moms on the go. 10% of profits from every greasy, artificially-flavored, hormone-disrupting donut wrapped in a leeching BPA-lined plastic baggy, goes to fighting breast cancer.

Our new Pope is so amazinglicious, that he's recommending Christians stop condemning other religions, insisting that there are more commonalities between them, than dogma that separates them. In a bid to win favor with circumcision advocates of the Christian faith, he's endorsing a rabbinical mouthwash for Priests. Brit MilahFresh, in new MetzitzahMint and Maztzoball flavors, from Low Hanging Fruit: Kosher Sauces, Medical Supplies and Environmental Impact Studies for all Occassions. "Choose Brit MilahFresh: Because boys aren't fully clean until their Metzitzah fully clean!" A recent surge in Low Hanging Fruit stock may be due to the increased market for sauces in drier climates, old fashioned circumcisions, and studies on the potential uranium impact on countries who have stuff we want, bad. The incredible claim that Brit MilahFresh mouthwash leaves your tongue and salivary glands Clean as a Whistle and Soft As a Baby's Behind has yet to be undeniably refuted by peer reviewed scientific studies.

Community Spirit Award Day was turned into a massive teleconference due to carcinogenic vog. An award for most creative high environmental impact aerobics class went to Old People With No Blood Relations for their ingenious use of gas leaf blowers in public places. Uncle Sam was quoted in the Status Quo as saying, "It is an amazing how when you stop giving a shit about the future, your whole world opens up and the possibilities are endless." Until that cavernous hole swallows everyone and everything up.

More Sunshine on a Chilly Late Autumn Day

These are from my photoshoot with Susannah. She chose Sunne, the German Goddess of the Sun, as her character.

A Night at the Sea Tangled in Unruly Hair That Might as Well Be Rope

It doesn't take an alien abduction to lose time. It doesn't take a mushroom to solve a burning mystery.

The rough lapping sea on a chilly night, is syncopated with the quiet rowing of unseen fishermen. Though the air is clear, the heaviness of low-lying fog banking on shoulders of weeping tavern storytellers is palpable. Gasps and held back tears stifle breaths in the rib cage like snares that smother traffic on a busy city street linger like a mother's last words. Attempts to keep attic dolls smiling and perfect peaches in tight mason jars fail miserably as you stumble clumsy on up and down yesterday's stairs, kocking over dolls and jars like dominoes. There is no sense in munching aspirins with a sour stomach and intestines full of compounded mistakes, but drinking them down with water might give you time to think about dreams you chased away after asking for them. The silence cuts Matisse paper dolls out of museum walls. It suffocates the shy sly vulnerable volatility of the cranky prankster with pockets for ears.

The universe dosed some sleeping fawns with too much love for this endless game of cards in a study where reading the books lessens their Rayndian value. Rolling down honeymoon slippery slopes and falling off the cliffs of a Virgil paradise are a thing of the Victorian past.

Shimmying bows of light from a desolate pier break on heavy rocks and pound a hidden shore. Surrounded by skeleton trees bending blithely in the non-confrontational winds, forgiving the numbness of limited thinking in human shells. The arc of a ship awaits a return to the stellar dimensions of the cosmos. A star explodes to underscore a verbal epiphany shared by friends cool to their lava strength inspirations. Exhalations are lengthy and the brain tries to wade in shallow waters amongst centuries of old friends piecing together the stories of by-gone eras. Peace by piece.

It was a night of stage fright and ylang ylang, a sensual floral aroma that scours scenes from your timeless psyche in an attempt to clean the muck and restore the reflective sheen of cooking pots in your soul's kitchen. It was an evening of reverberating empathy between a woman who flies over the streets of horse-drawn-carriage-London and a woman who grew up being chased by a flying magician, with a top hat, cane and cape, through endless vineyards into the dawn. Vain attempts were made to save the family from this flying wizard with piercing blue eyes who spoke telepathically in this recurrent nightmare. "You know you cant save them, its only you I want. This is a dream, and you're not waking up, you're coming with me."

This is a night that facts, figures and scientific studies hold the secret to finding one's voice in the dark chamber of resistance. Rejoicing arm and arm, basking in the modernity about them, rainbow stickers on new cars, electric street lamps, their painted lips and love of the theater not making them vulnerable, as it had, not so many incarnations before. Suddenly, the faint superimposition of a narrower cobbled lane with taller buildings on either side looms over the two. Someone or something with heavy feet sinks into the sidewalk behind the heels of the startled ladies. It vibrates the body and triggers a vertigo falling into the past, descending from the comforting present into a historical moment. A sharp object seems to dig in through the base of the neck on the blond, followed by a blunt whack with another object, a squeezing possessive firm hold that feels like Satan's love, and a strong blow to the head. This is what remains in the spirit body, not the DNA. Every stolen nook and cranny of human safety sucked out of a human vessel like a vacuum-sealed envelope to a God who betrays good girls gone bad. Buttons and bits of brightly colored lace lay around a corner like a clawed scarlet macaw. Such birds belong in houses, in large cages. Not on the streets past midnight.

Imagine, will you for a moment? Taking a dip into ancient history, a night ghosts have long tired in reenacting. A fruitless search by Scotland Yard, revealed inconclusively multiple suspects. Multiple handwriting samples spark copycat theories, wannabe notions. But you know the truth. And perhaps more importantly, so does she. The inhuman eyes that slashed throats like veal on a butcher's block and sealed it with a hairy kiss. An entity carves black holes in the comprehension of historians for ages to come, and leaves tongueless question marks on shaking forsaken flesh, on twin Magdalenes in brightly colored bows. And the ghosts of these stage actresses will inhabit many places, before they find their homes again. Madness junkies, escape artists, trying to out run the flying magician who stole bodies and made them his temporary home. The blood thirsty thief of night with inhumane eyes, holding a torch for death culture only similar vampires could understand through the evocation of the hateful "god". Floating by the homes they once owned, these wonder if their return would be welcome.

A calligraphied tattoo on the scapula reads: Don't you dare remind me. If you burn fossil fuels with rage, they don't last as long as when you burn them with love.

For the empath who can transport herself into someone else's shoes and view through their eyes, it is sometimes hard to know if she is feeling herself or someone else. Am I the dreamer or the dream? Whose life is this anyway?

Dining in November & Mining Through the Archives

Nothing like cold weather to make standing over a hot stove enjoyable.

Perscription for a balanced, upbeat person whose environment is filled with cosmic scorpion power punches and bugs for typewriters:
1) Light a fire in a hearth or in a German beer mug.
2) Scry some Sylvia Plath, Lord Byron or Anne Sexton poetry.
3) Eat a food that wiggles and lather it in garlic and butter.
4) Retell your dreams over a martini or write them down in the deep dark of the night.
5) Let the midnight trees and starlight soothe you with mist, recognizing the hard work you do.

This is a self portrait from the netherworld of teen angst.

This is a drawing I drew in 1991 of the kid who sat next to me at the back of my fifth grade class.

And, this is a my teenage feminist response to the Cinderella Complex.

"Infantilism with Angela" Teen Nanny Art that lasted a lot longer than the job. Do not scribble notes for your manifesto/feminist zine, called, Funky Cunts' Guide to the Emotional Universe.

Nor should you read a booked called, Cunt, around children when you are a nanny. The ironic and herstory-based reclamation of the word and the importance of gender equality through radical rejection of gender stereotyping may be lost on your employers. Your explanation of the fact that Cunt was a word for chalice, used in priestess rituals in neolithic times in matrifocal cultures may only further build the perception that you are a creep. And you did attempt to smoke a cigarette around a child in your charge, so perhaps you are a creepy sixteen-year-old punk after all.

The Spunky Side of The Box

Step right up! Step right up!

Weighing in at 160 pounds of sheer musical muscle, DJ Boxtart is coming at you with 3 hours of intergalactic pleasure this Sunday from 9 to midnight streaming at womr.org. Prepare to be amazed by Pandora's Jukebox. Guest DJ Marisa will joining me in ring with a set, some live music, and we will be pondering some of life's great mysteries. Place your bets and Call us up to make a request, if you dare. The night will include pop, electroswing, Latin jazz, early blues, rock, world, and hip hop, baby. Our Ptown side show has it all.

Wanna Learn More About Edgar Cayce?

This Thursday at 9am EST on my radio program Healing Wisdom, Peter Woodbury discusses the life and work of famous channel medium Edgar Cayce and past-life regressions.

Peter Woodbury, has been a trainer at Edgar Cayce's Association for Research and Enlightenment for twenty years. He plays the famed Sleeping Prophet on stage. Mr. Woodbury is also a social worker in his own private practice. Peter Woodbury, MSW, received his undergraduate degree in psychology from Harvard University in Cambridge, Massachusetts and his master’s degree in social work from Boston University. He trained in hypnotherapy and past-life regression techniques with Dr. Brian Weiss, Dr. Allen Chips, and Dan Brown, PhD.

The Electrical Impulses of the Planet

When you're a professional medium, it's refreshing to make discoveries without the help of the dead. I'm a big girl, I can make my own observations too. Like, bribing my kid to practice for his piano lessons with ipad time works. He is definitely under the spell of the sushi monster math app, he's completely possessed by Cut the Rope, and he has a deep soul connection with the xbox. Moreover, not all hockey moms make their crying infants go back into the rink and let their kids eat ice off their skates and demand that their potato bug faced minimes take after their beer guzzling DD lovin' dads. In fact, most of these not predominately sports attired families have been over the Sagamore Bridge at least a few times since birth.

I found out the one certified homebirth midwife who travels to Cape Cod is moving, so unless I plan for a immediate conception and premature labor then my dreams of multiplying here are sunk. I wonder what my OBGYN would think about my birth plan, or my Orgasmic Birth spreadsheet? "Week 34: exercise too much, make love too often, take too much caster oil, and go on really long hikes, pop my amniotic sack with a knitting needle and then have oral sex thereby increasing the likelihood of infection." Inducing labor naturally is basically just living the Los Angeles dream, except the needle is inserted through the vagina, not into the forearm. I often envisoned myself giving birth alone under a waterfall which means I am even more primitive than previously suspected. According to Bill Wallauer, Jane Goodall Institutes' leading chimpanzee researcher and videographer, in my recent interview with him for WOMR, in the wild birthing chimps seek solitude.

Viewing life through a shamanistic theosophical transcendental worldview is pretty soul-sating. The complexity of human consciousness in the afterlife, as well as the interplay of spiritual beings on earth makes the hypnotic trance of the boob tube less inviting than ever. Not that dont enjoy me some Portlandia or Nature program every now and then.

Chimpanzee Videographer Bill Wallauer on Healing Wisdom Thursday at 9am EST

Wanna know what scrambling through the hills of the Gombe National Park in Tanzania with a camera documenting chimpanzees is like?

My next guest Bill Wallauer did so for 22 years, documenting the daily dramas of their society. He recorded chimpanzee births, rain “dances” and even some vigilante justice. Hear about his life on the edge of a forest. Wallauer and renowned primatologist Jane Goodall met in 1989, while Wallauer was on assignment for the Peace Corps. Tune in to 92.1 WOMR in Ptown, 91.3 WFMR Orleans, or streaming at WOMR at 9am EST Thursday.