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Summer Newsletter 2002 by Jeannine Parvati Baker 19 June 2002 The hotter rhythm of summer is upon us. Awaken early everyday to water the gardens, as we have a drought in Utah. Morning songbirds and then the crickets sing the day into being. Quickly the silence of heat settles and until the wind begins to blow, the desert air is audible in its stillness. In the early evening, the plants are thirsty again and to the glow of solar lights and the moon, we visit with them beneath the stellar sky only known in the southwest. The long days this Gemini season, are like a coyote prowling around the sagebrush. Here we are, just minding our business, when the trickster does his business right on the path again. What is left eventually is the scent of sage as we learn to watch our step. A case in point - this Mother's Day we had a special gift. Our granddaughter Wynn came to visit us by flying alone from Austin to Las Vegas, where we met her at the airport. We got there very early even though Mercury was retrograde! She was scheduled to arrive at McCarren International Airport later than we thought so we had plenty of time to spare as I had timed it according to MST forgetting that in Las Vegas, it is PST. We went through security, though I was detained for the full terrorist screening, and had enough time to walk around the airport, watch the NBA play-offs (the Kings won) on the TV at the gate, and greet Wynn as she de-planed. All was going as planned. However, the Holy Wonder had another plan as we took off for home mid-day. Maybe it was the heat of the road but Coyote began to swish his tail - knocking out our fuel pump north of Las Vegas on I 15 - we were stranded in the hot desert sun on a late Saturday afternoon outside of Moapa Indian Reservation. Seems that people of any sense are not out and about when it is so hot - and for good reason. There was barely an insect, much less any two-legged in the desert sun. I think I did see a vulture or two at one point. We waited, and prayed, and with coyote cunning, spotted an abandoned car on the other side of the Interstate. Soon enough a police car investigated and Rico ran to the rescue! When a policeman finally found one tow service willing to get the abandoned car and us, we felt as if an oasis had been sighted. Eventually we were towed to a garage that reminded me of the more unstable parts of Tijuana, not exactly my idea of a desert refuge. We 
waited for the mechanic's diagnosis and took shelter in a local fast food
restaurant that welcomed kids. To make a long story short, we ended up renting
a car to drive home, with Wynn singing us songs all the way through Nevada.After 10 days in Joseph, Mercury was once again retrograde when we drove Wynn back to the airport. The rental car made it, but we didn't for her flight, as there was interstate construction on the way and this time, passing through security on a Sunday seemed endless. Why is that security likes my shoes so much? Each time I surrendered to be scanned, wearing either boots or sandals, they wanted my shoes. When we missed the first flight, another one could've been made except Wynn, as an "Unaccompanied Minor", needed her mother to answer her home or cell phone when we called her to confirm the change in arrival time in Austin. The airlines called as did I countless times, leaving increasingly desperate messages, to no avail. Two more flights and we were down to the different gates but still couldn't board Wynn until we heard from Loi. That fateful morning when we awoke at 4 A.M., (the last day of our visit), readying to drive to the airport, Wynn had declared that she didn't want to fly home, "just yet". We were all having a great time so I did understand. Yet her mother was going to be at the airport waiting so off we went to Las Vegas. All seemed perfectly reasonable and settled. But then again, Mercury was retrograde and both Wynn and her Grandmother are double Gemini's!! Loi finally did answer her phone. Easy explanation - she spent the night with friends and didn't take her cell phone with her. We are now at the pre-boarding area and Wynn again informs us that she doesn't want to go home, "just yet". Some more talk and then she makes a break for it! We have to run and catch her - Halley, Rico and I corral her back to the pre-boarding area. Now all 71 passengers seem to be watching and I attempt to make friends with someone else who is sitting on the ground with us. Turns out she is a Mom and quite willing to befriend Wynn. However, Wynn is still not going for it. She doesn't want to go home, ģjust yetī and applies her seven-year-old skills to expressing her truth. Now we are supposed to board but of course, I am not allowed, only the "Unaccompanied Minor". Since Wynn again is an ģUMī, a very nice agent at the gate comes out to accompany her on the walk to the plane. Yet Wynn dissolves into tears, clinging to me. The agent gets the supervisor who, noticing the pleading glares of the other passengers waiting to board the plane, makes an exception to the rule and lets me, Grandma, walk her to her seat. Almost the entire way down the ramp Wynn is crying, clutching my arm. I involve the kind surrogate Mom we met at pre-boarding, on her way home from a weekend vacation in Vegas without her three kids, to talk with Wynn and she calms down enough to walk onto the plane. Once we find her seat, the other two passengers in the isle look like they had lost the lottery as I try to settle Wynn down. I instead related to them as the compassionate people they are and assumed that they will help my granddaughter. (Wouldn't you help?) I pointed out her things and introduced Wynn to the startled couple. After kissing Wynn goodbye one more time, I leave the airplane. On the ramp going out, the agent asks how Wynn is doing? I say, ģBetter than I amī and burst into tears. Who awaits me as I de-plane is Halley to hug me, and Rico, who is used to my histrionics by now. As we see the plane pull out to be taxied to the take-off strip, another agent shouts to us to stay until the plane actually departs. If Wynn hadn't settled down, they would return and not let her fly. Lucky Wynn didn't know this either. At last the plane flew to Austin and I had to cast the astrology for the event. What a drama! The consensus amongst my children is, that this what I deserved, being too nice and all, to my granddaughter. Indeed, the 2nd day of Wynn's visit, she told me that I didn't have to do everything she asked. After we leave Las Vegas, along the way home, I phone Loi to see if Wynn has arrived? She is on her speakerphone when I ring her, still in her car coming home in Austin from the airport, and I ask Wynn how here flight was? She says, and I quote verbatim, ģGreat! I got the window seat.ī As maudlin as this may read, I loved every minute of our visit - including the comings and goings - all in true Gemini style. Wynn is the delight of my life. After she left, I found all sorts of love notes - hearts and flowers and stars - around the house and garden. I miss her in the morning when we talked with the plants in the garden, and prayed with our ears as we listened to the butterflies and ladybugs. Between visits to Moab and the callings of Freestone Innerprizes and Six Directions, this summer has been one filled with flowers and neighbors, cats and teenagers. All of our children are well and the friendship circle grows. After Quinn's 18th birthday party, a camping trip to the La Sal Mountains, he declared that he has a lot of good friends. It is true - we are rich in relationships. 
After the last spring event in D.C., we stayed home until late May, when the
next TOUR of 2002 called us to Joshua Tree in southern California. This time
the invitation came from the California Association of Midwives, directly from
my sister midwife Mary Earhart, Director of the Perinatal Program for the ABC
Recovery Program in Indio, CA.The CAM Conference was spectacular! It began with a pre-conference on INTUITION for midwives. Several Hygieia students attended and it was a reunion with others who have attended my workshops over the years as well as meeting new friends. The workshop had an intimacy, a certain coziness, that I found edifying - especially meeting my wise sisters, devoted to healing the Earth by healing birth. It was a wonderful birthday gift to my soul. During my keynote on June 1st, I realized that I am a "Direct Entry Intuitive". This came when I was describing my personal metamorphosis from midwife, to lay midwife, to lay-lay midwife - which proved too polysyllabic, even for me. I declared that I am a Direct Entry Intuitive and that every mother is a midwife (in varying degrees of realization, that is). On my 53rd birthday, I shared the story with the midwives of the conception of my own conception. That is, the story that my mother had told me recently about the first time she envisioned that she would be a mother. I am the realization of that impression, received in Victorville, on her way to Joshua Tree with her then boss, my future father. . She was his secretary and told me that as he was studying psychology, he hypnotized her into loving him. Traditionally people go to the desert for visioning and in Joshua Tree, we envisioned a world wherein every mother is a midwife. Those in attendance were quite moved by my keynote and we passionately discussed, of all things, circumcision and other genital cutting (like episiotomies) more than any other topic. This has never happened before in the USA, where midwives are this interested in circumcision. "Reclaiming An Authentic Midwifery: The Hand That Rocks The Birth Machine" was given a great round of applause, still ringing in my ears a week later as I compose this Newsletter. I am left wondering now what the sound is of one hand rocking the birth machine? There was a felt sense of unity for the California midwives as Halley and I left the Conference to visit our family of origin in L.A. 
The very first visit was with Halley's grandmother, Wynn's great grandmother
Vicki O'Brien in Van Nuys. This time I recorded my mother on tape telling
stories from the past -- now immortalized and on cassette tape for our
ancestors. Her long-term memory is crystal clear and as time goes on, she will
spontaneously give me these memorable gifts. As I never know for sure when the
oracle will speak, I kept the tape recorder handy with an excellent headset
microphone handy on her coffee table. She loves it and I am grateful for every
story is like another piece of the puzzle coming into place.The last visit with my mother several moons ago, I had taken her to the Emergency Room at the hospital. This was only upon her insistence as she was unduly worried. As we were waiting for the doctor to arrive in the exam room, my mother suddenly said, "Did I ever tell you the story of my de-flowering?" Astonished, I told her, "Not yet", and just as she began to tell me about going to Joshua Tree in California in 1948, the doctor came in and we both began to blush and giggle. The doctor quickly surmised this was not an emergency and affirmed my diagnosis. Of course, I told my mother, "I told you so". Later I also got her explicit story of initiation - but not on tape. When I asked her again to tell me this particular story on tape, my mother modestly declined. The first night we visited the San Fernando Valley, we went to my cousin Kip King's home to meet his son, Chris Kattan of Saturday Night Live and of recent, movies like Undercover Brother, A Night at the Roxbury and Corky Romano. As I had his astrology handy, we talked about Chris and his new squeeze until he had to leave, on his way to Rome. However, he kept calling me while I was at Kip's home when new ideas came to him and we continued talking into the late night. Kip composed a birthday poem for me, which I quote below. He read it to me in a singsong voice and with an impish grin the whole time. (Kip after all was a Smurf - the original voice of the animated cartoon character of the Tailor).
I also visited with my only blood sister, Kit O'Brien in Sun Valley. She showed me her landscaped garden and as a Libra, has a keen idea for design and beauty. As I am still in process of landscaping our acre in Utah, I learned a lot for she began to beautify over 20 years ago by planting trees, bushes and flowers on her property. Kit is my ģbaby sisterī and at almost 52 years of age, is still dependent on my mother. Your prayers for her freedom from the past, release from pain and full healing would be greatly appreciated. Send them to the Sun Valley in California. Thanks so much! 
This 2nd evening in L.A., the kind pediatrician to the movie stars and my
NOCIRC colleague, Dr. Paul Fleiss, picked up Halley and I and in his new hybrid
car drove to Laura Huxley's home on Mulholland Drive in Hollywood. Halley and I
were seated on exercise balls at an elegant table and served a nurturing vegan
meal and insightful dialogue with our hostess, the 90-year-old wife of Aldous
Huxley and founder of The Ultimate Investment Conferences on The Child of Our
Future. Now she sponsors the TOTS & TEENS program - getting together these
two groups to the mutual benefit of all. When Laura admitted that it was only
Michel Odent and myself that she trusts with the future vision of childbirth, I
was reminded to share with her news of Michel's brand new book, The Farmer
and The Obstetrician, of which I had the honor of receiving an advanced
copy to read and soon to be available through Freestone's website Catalog). I
like it even better than his last great book, The Scientification of Love.
Paul shared with us his work in La Leche League to discuss circumcision and how
even in this association of largely mothers, not medicine men or academics,
that he was asked to not talk about it on the panel entitled, ģControversies in
Pediatricsī. We have long resigned ourselves that the work to end genital
cutting, in the words of Norm Cohen, Intactivist and founder of
NOCIRC-Michigan, ģis a marathon, not a sprintī. I am privileged to have these
two great humanitarians and healers in my life.The next day we make a surprise visit to the Hollywood Birth Center to see Mary Ceallaigh. Our mutual friend and Hygieia student, Kyera Shim, sets up the surprise. She calls and tells Mary that she made lunch and will be bringing it to her. Instead, Halley & I carry Kyera's homemade nori rolls to find that Mary is not only unsurprised, but she has a gift ready to give to me. Hygieia students are so psychic! We had a lovely visit, meeting the pregnant couples and I left a copy of HYGIEIA: A Woman's Herbal for the HBC's awesome library, as it was the only Freestone title they didn't have. They even stocked all three editions of PRENATAL YOGA!! The drive home was an odyssey in itself. We naively departed L.A. after rush hour in the early morning. Not exactly, as we were stuck in traffic for many miles and once we began the climb out of LA County, the caravan began to overheat. Pulling over on a narrow mountain road, without a decent shoulder and yet with diesels rushing by, is my idea of alert status! I enjoyed the adrenaline rush as we let the caravan cool down. Eventually we got to Barstow, where we took refuge with an Indian family in a room with a swamp cooler. It was 116 degrees through the Mojave Desert that day. In the evening when we made it to Baker in California, it was still 105 degrees at 11 PM. I drove all night long, taking ample rest stops. I saw the crescent moon rise many times as I drove the mountain roads of Utah. I hung my gratitude on that sliver moon each time it showed itself during the long quiet night. It was a meditation on the old moon, and all that had happened on this last tour of the spring season. All in all it was a lovely ride home and we arrived after dawn to be greeted by Gannon and Quinn, who had the house looking better than when we had left. The next day we began the familiar "settling into home" process - lots of business waited. Phone messages galore! Many emails were lost when a glitch occurred a few days before our return. Quinn had been handling the publishing and web businesses, email plus snail mail orders, yet this error in the computer system stymied him. (So if you didn't hear back from me via email in early June, it may be because I lost your message - over 50 are missing in cyberspace -- please do write again, OK?) He did a most excellent job (Thank you, Quinn!) yet I indulged in a brief yet needed feeling of overwhelm until I began responding to one message at a time. Settling into home is a blessing. A most glorious season it is after an amazing if ambivalent spring. Have you noticed, too? This summer is the best one ever that I can recall. (Another benefit to short-term memory loss?) In the Alchemical Bakery we all are healthy and content with what-is. The gratitude from readers all over the world is a boon for doing what I am already destined to do for the sake of our optimal planetary health. Each day I thank the Holy Wonder for another day to serve and have as much fun as possible with all my relations. 
However, this has credibility if I truly mean, ALL of my relations.
After the visit to L.A., I can again state that I am blessed for the family I
have - every one of my relations is precious to me. As well as my most intimate
family members - my partner Rico, and our children. Each made Mother's Day, my
recent birthday, and Father's Day, too, full celebrations of the heart.One last note -- the new photos adorning this website are possible through a birthday gift from Loi. (Thank you, Loi! You knew how much I wanted a good camera and you gave me a great one!) More will be posted as I learn how to use the computer software. It is a perfect time now with Mercury direct to explore the magic of photography and to share the images with you through the Internet. "One picture is worth a thousand words", as the artists say. Yet writers instead yearn to find the one word worth a thousand pictures and as time goes on, I think that word to be LOVE. Love is what made me possible, and love sustains all possibilities. It is with love that I report the summer so far, from the Alchemical Bakery, located in Joseph and Moab, Utah. May you also listen to the butterflies and ladybugs, whenever the wind stills the breath long enough, to pray with your ears. With LOVE, Jeannine Parvati Baker BACK to Newsletter Archives |
