Are you my mother?

A friend of mine just wrote a blog post about feeling that she was dropped by aliens in the wrong place and encouraged me to write a post about my travel adventures during my life. Her blog can be found at: http://www.playinganewgame.com/?p=2367

The odd part about this is that last night just as I was about to write a post on my own blog our internet service went out so I never had a chance to carry out my plan. This is the way it started and I am sure you can sense an interesting connection with what my friend Lois wrote on her blog.

Sometimes I feel that my life is a cross between Alice in Wonderland and Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz with a smidgeon of Are You My Mother? tossed in for good measure. When I was a teenager I actually convinced myself that my father was not my biological father. My mother insisted that I was wrong. She also insisted that I was premature and my birth certificate eventually proved her wrong.

All of my life I have made every effort to keep my so called biological relatives connected, but it seems I am the only one who cares. I am beginning to wonder if there is a piece to the puzzle that is missing. None of the rest of my family for generations has my height. I find that very odd. Perhaps that is the reason I have always felt a little out of step with questions that have never been answered to my satisfaction.

In the last few years things have happened to convince me that I have a closer connection with my universal family than my biological family. They are the ones that I can count on to really care when I have challenges that are causing a serious problem. When I was in the hospital last year my friend Lois, on her way through New Mexico, made a detour to visit with me. Priscill, another friend, called me long distance just to see how I was doing. I had not met these two people before, except through Facebook.
My biological family never made an appearance.

My physical travels have taken me from Ketchikan, Alaska to three towns in Washington state and two towns in California. I moved around so much that I can't say I had a hometown until I came to Cibola County, New Mexico in 1976. When I first came here I didn't like it one little bit. Living in the middle of the Laguna Indian reservation was not my idea of fun. In 1980 I had the opportunity to move closer to the small western town of Grants, NM. Although it was an improvement I must confess it took many years for me to appreciate the gift I had been given.

This area finally feels like home and at the moment I don't think I would like living anywhere else on this planet. I have found not only the friendship of my fellow humans, but a wonderful connection with the spirit world and all it has to offer. In recent years I have taken some magnificent photos of actual spirits and have had some very interesting experiences with them to share with others.

I guess it really doesn't matter who my human mother was because someone had to accept the job or I wouldn't be here sharing my thoughts with my readers.

My favorite place to be, Riverwalk Park, Grants, NM