Re: Ed McCabe Letter

[Guest guest]

Tangerine, and everyone,

Posts about Ed McCabe are definitely NOT spam. They are most certainly about

health related issues. And the political situation he is in is also a valid

topic, because the Government's suppression of alternative healing is why we're

here in the first place.

God bless Ed McCabe! His relief from this burden he carries for all of us is in

my prayers, and I know I am not alone in this. Tangerine's updates on his

welfare and situation are important news to all of us.

jim

Mike & Tangerine wrote:

> From: Mike & Tangerine <synergy7@...>

>

> Jim, I have my doubts about whether you will let this through, maybe

> you'll consider it spam, but I hope you'll see it's underlying

> connection to our collective quest here...

>

> To give you a bit of history. I became involved in the oxytherapy list

> a year and a half ago, because I was pretty sick, and I needed an

> alternative. Ozone has changed my life. So has Ed McCabe. When I

> first found out he was in prison, I became determined to find out why.

> In the process, we began writing to each other, and discovered that we

> have similar souls, and share some of the same deepest wishes for the

> world.

>

> The last two years of my life were hellishly hard -- too many things to

> name, but two experiences definitely stand out. December of 1997 the

> house my boyfriend and I lived in was partially swallowed by a flash

> flood, that broke all of our furniture, and left us with a foot of

> sludge. We received no aid, moved downstream where the creek was

> underground, charged things we needed on my credit card figuring we'd

> work extra hard, and two months later, in the dark of night, the

> mountain fell on top of us in a massive landlside, burrying everything

> we owned., and killing two of my neighbors. Prior to all this we had

> just begun to get on our feet, and I had just begun to feel like I was

> going somewhere good with my health. I had also applied and been

> accepted into graduate school, planning on making it happen even with

> the debt I had then.

>

> Three months after the landslide I met Ed. Obviously, there are many

> details missing here, but I wanted to keep this as short as I could.

> When Ed and I first began writing he gave me open permission to post our

> letters on the net, so that people could learn about him and his

> situation. This is one of my letters to him, in the face of his

> sentencing, on Friday.

>

> February 23, 1999

>

> I was driving in my car late tonight, high up the hill where the

> city begins to shine below, and you feel like you're driving up into the

> stars. The ocean spread out below me, glittering silver and calm in the

> dark, no sound but my car, chugging along. When I reached my driveway I

> sat there, in the dark of my car, my life flitting by me, moved by the

> silences, by the ache, by something rumbling, stirring, deep inside.

> You, your life, what little I know of it were (are) with me, and I

> felt my whole body turn into a prayer, for your release. Leeda, and her

> pain and her fear came into me and I held her there as well, and I sent

> my spirit out to both of you, to the judge, to the courtroom, to the

> things in the world that are helping to lead us in the right direction;

> to plead for your release. Like Ninshibur pleading with the gods for

> their aid in Inanna's release from Hell, I felt myself pleading with the

> powers that be to intervene; to set things right in the world, and to

> bring you back to us (your friends, your family, the outside world)

> where you are so missed and needed, and where your work lies.

> I don't know that you will even receive this before Friday, and so I

> write, unknowing, hoping, wondering, afraid.

> I would love to hear the news that you get to walk, time served, and

> that Leeda could come join you and the two of you could recuperate and

> settle on some farm or in some cottage somewhere (or do whatever else

> moves you!) free to gather yourself back together again and heal, and

> move on from this awfulness.

> I dread any other possibilities, and find myself waiting, breath

> half-held, for Friday, considering my options for action should you not

> be released. Believe me, action will be taken, should that occur. I

> (we) will not sit idly by for any long incarceration, without

> challenging the fabric of things…

>

> * * * * * * * * * * *

>

> It is the anniversary of the landslide this morning; a year ago

> today we were trapped in a wall of mud for hours, not knowing whether we

> would live or not. We survived (YES!) but I remember a moment just

> before sunset a few days afterward. It was the irony of the universe

> that it had rained almost nonstop for months, until the mountain finally

> crumpled and fell on us (after a flashflood from the creek filled our

> first house two months prior) and the day after the mud swallowed

> everything the sun came out, bright and beautiful, announcing Spring and

> new life. It came and it stayed with us until long after the mud had

> dried, and we had dragged what little things we could away. That day

> the golden light on the hills was fading, the canyon dark descending,

> and I sat there, in my truck, which we had just unburied, and were using

> as a meeting place, or home base. I had a pair of thigh-high mud boots,

> the muddy clothes on my back, a truck that lurched along, and, that was

> IT. Everyone was going home for the day -- back into their homes in the

> canyon, or driving away to their homes and their things in their cars,

> even the news crews had packed up their vans and headed away. I sat

> there, with nowhere to go, nothing and no home to go home to. It was

> the most profoundly disconcerting feeling. I was definitely pushed to

> one of life's edges, and I knew I would walk it until I found my home

> again, but it was a lonely place to be. The next day, same time, Mike

> and I were together at the truck, home base, mutually on edges and

> speechless, except for the occasional wisecracks or jokes he made.

> Across the way a woman came out of her studio, in the darkening light,

> and beckoned us in. She sat us down on her sheet-covered couch (there

> were paint splatters and paintings piled everywhere) and she fed us wine

> and cheese and crackers. She turned on the TV and didn't talk much,

> just kept filling our glasses with cheap red wine and urging us to eat.

> I could have cried for how good it felt to be there, how good it felt to

> be warm, and fed. It was dark when we left and drove to a friend's

> house, where we stripped down in the garage and climbed into a big white

> fluffy bed in the guest bedroom, too tired for anything but dream-filled

> sleep. That night Mike caught me as I was jumping out of the fluffy

> bed, running from the mud that was swallowing me. I spent a month

> kicking him in my sleep.

>

> It's a year later, the clock is ticking, and I am a different girl.

> I am bigger and deeper and less afraid, and my dreams are unfurling like

> flowers and I am walking out onto the grassy field wielding my sword or

> my pen or my voice, ready to speak the truth as it is, as I see it, as I

> feel it in the center of my heart.

>

> You are there in that truth. You, your plight, your fight to make it

> a better world. You, and the dozens of others who face the loss of huge

> parts of your lives, because you dare to help us heal without drugs…dare

> to do something different in the face of greed inspired laws.

> You, Edie, my new friends on the Internet, all of the people who have

> come into my life and helped me to see things in a different way…

> There is the beginning of a new love, for a new person there too.

> Someone who challenges me to think differently, to rise to the occasion,

> someone who makes me want to break open the vessel that I am because the

> love I feel inside is too much for this vessel to hold. I want to be

> bigger, so that I can contain it all, and love it all, no matter what.

> I want to be bigger, so that even the storm has its grace, even the dark

> nights when I feel I was born onto the wrong planet, even my health,

> tenuous, body hurting, all have a place in the beautiful evolution of

> things.

> Everything can be a lesson, and these moments (3 a.m. now!) remind me

> again, of what is beating, beat by beat by beat, inside of us. The

> pulse of these moments where, in the swirling chaos of the universe, I

> am reminded that we are inextricably woven together. We touch each

> other, we need each other, together we create this tapestry that spans

> time. And we need to remember to feel this pulse, we must dare to dream

> and live big, if we care about what we are weaving.

>

> The world is still and silent now, here, and from my place across the

> country I send you my love and my prayer.

>

> Tangerine

>

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jim@... http://www.entrance.to/madscience

http://www.entrance.to/poetry ICQ:16531148

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