Michael's Path to Health

Three weeks ago the father of my teenager was diagnosed with Stage II throat cancer and has started radiation treatment October 8- ending November 25th. This man had been destined to die as soon as we met back in 1987 when we fell in love head over heals. With the diagnosis came the realization that in his own words: " I have lived thirty-three years longer than I deserved". Now despite it all I am moving quickly through the five Kübler Ross stages of grief ( I used it even though I know it is only for the ones who have actually died). I skipped the first one "denial", and went immediately to "anger" since Michael was another classic Kaiser misdiagnosis, (they sent him home for two years with Tums for acid-reflex),  then omitted bargaining and depression and arrived in no time at acceptance. They delayed starting radiation treatments because he was too trim and too fit and we needed to fatten him up since he might not be able to eat nor swallow once his throat was irritated by the treatments.  Also, we decided to repaint,  redecorate, and feng-shui his room and tossed everything he did not need or want out. We just finished yesterday by hanging art works and his room is now more "manly" and simply gorgeous. His life style choices finally caught up with him and when he mentioned how hard it is not to smoke I had visions of smothering him with a pillow while he sleeps to just get it over with. This man is an incurable BAD-ASS. The tumor is the size of a peanut sitting precariously at the edge of his tongue way back and very close to his vocal cords. A Dictaphone was purchased in the hope that he would speak his life story.

Homeless with Heart and a Heart for Homeless

Today I was with extra time. My fourteen year old teenager cocooning in her room, snuggled cozily with journals, Math-sheets, I-phone and computer. Her Mom only needed for a few minutes every few hours. So all day I knocked on her door, called out "Laundry Service" (huge stack of freshly dried and folded clothes balancing on my arms), or with a tray of desired foods and water, calling out "Room Service", other times equipped with a vacuum etc, etc. After a while we both screamed with laughter.

 Still there was lots more "ME" time. More time to think, read, practice the piano and plan my next adventure. And there was time contemplating Rilke's idea of loving the expanse between two lovers, where each partner appoints the other as guardian of each others solitude, thus they show each other the greatest possible trust. (Letter to a Young poet). I love that. I love his poetry, - always have.

On other days my daughter is unstoppable, she adores to go outside where we live. Our, neighborhood, now so very cool, still has old metal buildings and forlorn parking lots, often with junk strewn about, which she uses for her art projects. Our surroundings often reminds me of SOHO, NY in the seventies.

We are far away from these magical woods where we found just the other day amazing fungi specimens: Leccinum Manzanitae (Manzanita Bolete), the red headed wonders are indeed edible. The small orange one glistening on pine needles is called (Which’s Hat) Ramaria Araiospora and the White Coral sp (non species identified) are not edible.

My teenager sees nothing wrong to walk in her shorts and crop tops with dangling digital movie camera on her side down the allies and onto the bigger streets famous for their characters straight out of Dickens' classic, Oliver Twist. Here we find the characters of his novel still alive, filled with venom and hatred, Bill Sikes and Fagin and Monk, conniving career criminals, pimps and murderers.

Presumably having nothing to loose I decided to put everything I learned since 2009 (i.e. First Aid Wilderness Certificate, KravMagna Self-Defense student, desert speed-trekker and runner, living in a gentrified neighborhood where street-smart is a survival technique), into ONE huge package and walked into the trenches, the borrows, the underworld, in hopes that I could clean up the streets for my daughter to walk on.

 Equipped with a basket of socks, hats, a cooler full of apples, mandarines, pita bread, hard boiled eggs, peanut butter and strawberry jam, hot tea and water, empty containers, water, wax paper and a knife (for spreading.)

I started my contact by: "Hi, my name is Martina, how are you? Do you need anything?

The first person I approached was Mark, he was pushing a huge cart. He needed nothing, had money and even candy. He goes occasionally to a Motel to clean up and get a good-night sleep. He seemed very save to me since I know that they would not run behind me if I had to bolt away. The cart, is everything they have, they do not abandon it easily. He had been on the streets for ten years and he was most enchanted of how friendly people treated him over the years. He works as a recycler and has not used any assistance from the government, even though he had paid into it all his life. Due to using drugs prior to his homelessness, he lost his job and soon was on the street. He is on a long list for housing, yet the list is indeed very LONG.

The second person I talked to was Robin, on the streets for just two days. She did not want to share what happened and did not need anything.

The third person was Jeff. He made the mistake of taking someone into his house two years ago to sleep on his sofa. That person turned out to be assaulting him during the night while Jeff was asleep.

He almost broke his thumb so Jeff called the police and the police ended up taking him, Jeff, to 850 Bryant and booked him falsely, for three months, into the county jail for assault. In the meantime his house received an eviction notice on the door and of course he lost his job. He listened carefully to the list of foods I had and he answered, if you don't mind I will eat it all. I gave him my number so if he thinks of anything else he needs he can call anytime.

Now I just saw that Barbara Brust wrote back. She started the web site   www.HomelessLivesMatterBerkeley.org .

Black Madonna And Her Healing Powers

I kneeled in front of the Black Madonna high in the Monserat Mountains by Barcelona, Spain.

My knee pain is gone. 

My Secret Treaty!

 What do President Obama and Frederic Chopin

 have in common ?

November 6th, last Tuesday, I had a secret treaty. I promised if Obama wins again that I will sign up for piano lessons.

In 2008 I took my OATH to become an American so I could vote in the most important election of a century. I also was inspired by the fitness of his wife. My 50's birthday was upon me. An article in the S.F. Chronicle http://www.sfgate.com/chronicle/ had inspired me to change everything I wanted to change before I turned  50 because, it read, that after that point, you might never change. 

I progressed from yoga, 
to bicycling, 
to extended walks, 
to hikes,
 to speed-hikes, 
to bootcamp, 
to extreme speed trekking,
 to jogging,
 to running 
and to racing. 

In June I ran and completed the DipSea and the Double- DipSea, http://www.dipsea.org/. 

 Back to my secret treaty! Last Sunday I heard a 12 year old boy play the piano, during a concert "From Beethoven to the Buena Vista Social Club", his name was KIKO. After the performance, in the Finnish Hall of Berkeley I asked him about his piano practice. He simply said: "I take one lesson a week and practice 2 hours a day. That I have done for the past four years."

 According to the young boy if I were to commit to a 30 minute lesson a week and practice 45 minutes a day I will be able to play Chopin in 7 years. 

My first lesson will be tomorrow at 4 PM.

Photo of Martina Konietzny by Kevin Thomas Pope in the Arc Dom Wilderness, NV 10/2012

Rites of Passage

My daughter had a Rites of Passage Party. We all got dressed in pinks, oranges and reds then we had her ears pierced and she was welcomed into womanhood. 

Hiatus Resumed

Transit of Venus encouraged me to purchase my own private telescope. My "Meade Ds-90 EC Refracting" is my personal connection to the intergalactic Black Bands of our own Milky Way. Watch the Milky Way rise in June around 10 PM. 

Begeisterung ist der Schluessel zum Glueck

Ihr Lieben,

ein OsterNACHRUF von Martina!

Ein bewegtes Dankeschoen fuer die unvergesslichen Erinnerungen, die vielen Mitbringsel, Blumen und Schokoladen und die prachtvollen gebackenen und gekochten Herrlichkeiten. Das Haus duftete nach all den Leckerbissen. Die Kinder waren bezaubernd.

Lasst Euch durch mein stilleres Wesen nicht vom wesentlichen abhalten. Der feurige Vulkan sprudelt im tiefen Innern. 118 Tage ohne jeglichen Kaffee, benoetigt eine Stunde mehr Schlaf pro Tag und Worte verschmelzen zu Gedanken.

Freiheit durch Einfachheit.

Also meine Energie ist reziprok reduziert.

Ostern, und eigendlich jeglicher grosse christliche Feiertag, laesst mich melancholisch an zu Hause denken. Der praechtige lila Flieder, der im Moment in unserem Garten fast wie Unkraut wuchert. Meine Mama auf Sylt im Strandkorb, mit Buch, allein, aber nicht einsam. Die verpasste Kommunion meiner Nichte, Ihr kent den Drill.

Allerdings bin ich im Moment so richtig stolz auf unsere Deutschen im Lande Deutschland. Es scheint das letztendlich aus unserer Geschichte doch gelernt wurde. Penibelst wird mit groesster Aufmerksamkeit darauf geachtet , WER das Land Deutschland regiert und WIE. Ob es Menschen mit vorbildlichem Character, fuer die Begriffe wie Anstand, Moral, Aufrichtigkeit, Ehrlichkeit und Integritaet, nicht nur leeres Geschwaetz sind. All das was im Moment in Deutschland ausgefochten wird, (Guttenberg, Westerwelle,, FDP, Merkels Atomwende, niedrigste Arbeitslosenquote etc.) ist Ausdruck einer Wachsamkeit, die aus unserer Geschichte resultiert.

Es ist eine Wachsamkeit, die in direktem Zusammenhang mit den Jahren 33 bis 45 herstammt. Diese neue Wachsamkeit hatte ich mir hier vor zwei Jahren so erhofft.

Sie ist so noetig!

Ich haette nicht gedacht, das ich sie in meinem Heimatland so erleben darf, allerdings bedauerlicher Weise, nur aus der Ferne. Ploetzlich erscheint mir, die Deutschen haben doch ne Menge gelernt aus Ihrer Geschichte.

Ganz genau beobachten, ganz genau hinschauen. Fast uebergenau mit riesig hohen Anspruechen an die Menschen, die sie gewaehlt haben.

Dies ist die Hoffnung.

Allerdings lebe ich hier in diesem Land, die USA, wo mir jeden Tag, oft mehrmals, ein Schmerzensstich verabreibt wird, ob es der neue schreckliche Krieg in Lybien ist, oder Gefangene, Talibanfuehrer zu 500 aus Afgahnischen Gefaengnissen entfliehen, der verkorkste "War on Drugs", der Menschen-und Kindeshandel, die Krankenversorgung, der Zerfall der oeffntlichen Schulen, die unbezahlbaren Universitaeten, die ungerechte Steuerverteilung, unserer Abhaengigkeit, eine regelrechte Versklavung an unserer Autos, die Verschleuderung fossiler Brennstoffe, die alternativen Energien, nur mit Profitgier/geist erorbert werden, die ueberalten Bruecken und Strassen, Daemme und Massentransporte, die ewige Armut, alles liegt hier vorsintlich im Argen.

Dazu kommen, die sich haeufenden Naturkatastrophen, letztes Jahr die Golfoelverschmutzung, die gestrigen schrecklichen Tornados in den Suedstaaten, die immense Trockenheit im westlichen Texas, all das kommt dann als Schlag Sahne, zur Verzierung mit obendrauf.

Sogar die lebhafte Osterpredigt in meiner geliebten St. Columba endete politsch und rief zum Austritt aus Wells Fargo und rueber zur Mechanics Bank auf, unglaublich!

So versuche ich mein Leben wieder mal vollkommen umzusatteln, auf Natur, Musik, Kultur, Jahreszeiten, Philosophie und mich auf die Seelensbereicherung meiner Selbst zu konzentrieren, um es ueberhaupt auszuhalten zu koennen.

Begeisterung ist der Schluessel zum Glueck.

Menschen zu finden, die mit uns fuehlen und empfinden, ist wohl das schoenste Glueck auf Erden. (Carl Splitter)

So schliesse ich nun mit Splitter's Worten, da ich mich so mit Euch allen fuehle. Ich danke, das ich oft so lebhaft an Euren Leben teilhaben darf und das ich Euch alle hab kennenlernen duerfen. Dieser Weg als Deutsche Mutter im fremden Land, waere glaube ich ohne Euch fast undenklich.

Bleibt so wie Ihr seit, oder werdet jeden Tag besser.

Herzliche Ostergruesse von Eurer Martina und Familie

P.S. Noch ein Gedicht


Fruehling laesst sein blaues Band
wieder flattern durch die Luefte. Suesse, wohlbekannte Duefte
streifen ahnungsvoll das Land.
Veilchen traeumen schon, wollen balde kommen.
Horch, von fern ein leiser Harfenton!
Fruehling, ja du bist's!
Dich hab ich vernommen.

Eduard Moerike