Herstory, as told through my teeth

December 10, 2025

Looking at my teeth, you’d never know the long road they’ve traveled.

This morning I spent at the dentist, having a new porcelain crown inserted into one tooth above left and a cavity around the gum edge of an old crown below left  filled. Notice: both procedures involved teeth on the left side of my mouth. The left side is the only side I can now chew with.

Three teeth above right were unceremoniously pulled two years ago. That left me with only the left side capable of chewing.

Likely the day will come when I can no longer chew, but instead will have to resort to soft “baby food.”

 

But back to the beginning, and my bodily herstory as told through my teeth.

First, physiologically, I have a small mouth and big teeth. So, when my second adult set of teeth came in, not surprisingly I ended up with “buck teeth.”

My parents (doctor dad, nurse mom) decided I needed to get braces. But there was no orthodontist in Twin Falls, Idaho, where we lived, in 1951. The closest one was in Boise, 2.5 hours away by bus.

So, when I was nine years old, my mother drove me to Boise, for my first appointment with an orthodontist. Braces would be duly fit onto my buck teeth, and I was instructed to return once a month.

Since I was the first of eight children, my mother could not continue to take me to Boise. Instead, my parents found a teenage girl to ride along with me as a companion, by bus.

The second time I took the bus to Boise, I told my folks that I wanted to go alone. That I knew how to do it by myself. That I wouldn’t get lost. They actually let me do it. Gone all day to another town when I was only nine years old!

(Needless to say, no parent in their right mind would allow this today.)

I loved those trips to Boise! I would get off the bus, walk to the dentist’s ofice, and then afterwards, walk a few blocks to the restaurant in the historic Owyhee Hotel (built in 1910) for lunch.

The bus back to Twin Falls wouldn’t leave Boise until 3 pm, so I still had a couple of hours to go. Rather than waiting at the bus station, or in the hotel, I explored Boise, on foot. Had a great time, and didn’t ever get lost because I made sure to keep the top floor of the Owyhee Hotel in view wherever I wandered.

So I can credit my buck teeth for my wandering ways

 

Meanwhile, as a kid, having inherited my father’s teeth, over a period of years I received mercury fillings for sixteen cavities. Which makes me wonder now, how my nervous system was affected by all the mercury. Especially wonder about my tremorous hands, which I’ve had for about 20 years now, not getting worse, thanks to chikong/taichi, but definitely there.

Sometime in my 40s, I had all the mercury fillings replaced, mostly with crowns. Again, this was a long-distance operation. The dentist I needed lived in Idaho Falls, and I lived in Jackson Wyoming, three hours away. I don’t remember how many trips it took, but I do know that each time I was given a Vitamin C drip throughout the procedure, to help dispel? cancel? the dislodged mercury.

Prior to that, back when I was 38, I had endured a year-long hellish experience with a “bad man,” determined to change his mind, heal his body, and save his soul, and of course, I failed! Phil taught me that the only one I can change, heal, save, is MYSELF.

But during that experience, I found myself tightly, ferociously gritting my teeth, in fury and frustration, not being able to say anything, lest I infuriate him!

At some point during this seemingly endless ordeal, my clenched jaw began to exude an exudate, which traveled through the lower left jaw up to the front left bottom tooth, where it leaked out, and rendered that tooth loose.

Weird.

So from then on, I had to carefuly guard that tooth, lest it come out of my mouth.

When I moved to Bloomington, back in 2003, a went to a dentist who, some years later, took out that tooth and constructed some kind of a bridge, so that when you see my bottom teeth today, you would never know the mastery of which he was capable.

Meanwhile, the gums were and are receding from my teeth, despite all manner of tooth care, including three or four dental visits to clean them each year. The worst spot was the three back teeth on the upper right, where deep holes had developed, harboring infection, and I had to very carefully rinse them several times daily, knowing that the infection could rise to the brain or drop into the heart.

After a few years, this dentist recommended that I go to another one, because he wasn’t in “a network,” and I would benefit financially if I went to a network dentist. So I did, looked around and found the one I go to now.

At the very first visit, this dentist took one look at that area in the right front back, and said, “these three teeth must come out now, right now!” So they did, the very next day, by another dentist who specializes in pulling teeth.

And what I noticed about this procedure, was that afterwards I sensed that my body was grateful; it no longer had to spend energy making sure that the infection in the right side of my jaw didn’t spread!

Okay, that was two years ago; then, last summer I was told that I needed to have a root canal on the back left bottom molar. What? I’ve heard terrible things about root canals, and did not want one. But my dentist convinced me, said it all depends on who you go to; and the person we recommend is really really good, lives in Columbus (about two hours away).

So, I made the appointment with this expert root canal dentist, and was stunned by how pleasant the experience was. No big deal.

Okay, so we’re back to the left side of my jaw, and the new crown above, and the filling around the edge of the old crown below. Today, just this morning.

I wish I could say that this is the final dental procedure I will ever undergo, but I know that’s wishful thinking. My teeth (and my nervous system) seem to be my “achilles heels,” and let me know that this nearly 83-year-old body is not only not immortal, but marching inexorably, tooth procedure by procedure, towards its final letting go.

Meanwhile, this morning, while out walking with Scampi after the dentist, I remembered my Grandma K, the set of false teeth on her bedside table. Yes, my teeth genetically linked to my Dad, and through him, back to his mom, Grandma K.

Our bodies loop us into history, memory, both large and small, recent and long ago past.

And yet, I can’t ever forget how my teeth actually got me going into what became my fully Sagittarian life of full-on freedom to roam far and wide, and I can’t ever forget how my parents gave me permission to go alone on the bus to Boise. I thank them. I thank all the dentists. I thank my teeth, what remains of them, for their ability to chew my experiences enough to allow me to fully process them.

 

 

 

 

Yesterday evening, my first public talk in Bloomington

December 9, 2025

Remember this?

Yesterday evening was the long-awaiting event where I spoke in public about Green Acres Village. As I introduced myself to those present (about 25 people), only a few of whom I actually know, I mentioned that I’ve done lots of presentations of various kinds to groups, large and small, all over this country, but never locally. So I never had to worry about blowback! That got the first laugh.

Another laugh erupted when I mentioned that, in the ’80s, I was a violent peace activist. . . That, in fact, it was this experience, and my shuddering recognition of it, that led to my current philosophy of life, which includes embracing the dynamic contrast within any contradiction, rather than identifying with one end and polarizing against it’s “opposite.”

All in all, I spoke for 30 minutes, and then another hour or so was taken up by literally everyone there passing the mike to each other, as each one intensely both spoke what was on his or her mind and listened to one another. Nobody feared censorship, even normally shy ones joined in.

During my talk I had focused on the world view which generated Green Acres Village, and that is my own conscious embrace of paradox or polarity, contradiction as the creative driver of whatever comes next.

I mentioned there what happened during a lecture on Boolean logic, given by a professor back in graduate school. I, still innocent, had shyly asked: “But what’s wrong with contradiction?” And he stood there, his face growing red, and finally sputtered, “Because from a contradiction, anything follows, ANYTHING!’

Yes, ANYTHING! The space between two poles is not neutral; it is, in fact, dynamic, a pulsing presence, the growing point that each of us can learn to inhabit moment by moment our whole lives long.

So yes. Let us cultivate contradiction; appreciate how it opens us to new possibilities. Then, take a risk, experiment. See what happens next. And above all, learn from mistakes!

This way we break through the too tight box of cultural expectations.

This way, we COME ALIVE.

 

The main “contradiction” that ignited the group last night was that between Individual and Community, the one that has spurred the growth and evolution of Green Acres Village. For too much emphasis on  Individual freedom, and the result is anarchy, chaos, greed; and yet, too much emphasis on safety in Community, and the result is cult, hive mind. Both poles are necessary. Both feed off each other.

Here’s part of a post Karen Lynn Burr, of Indy Holistic Living put up on facebook this morning:

The four people at the top right are the all Green Acres Village gals: Marita, myself, Elisha, and Carisa.

Here’s some initial comments on that facebook page:

I’ll end this with a quote from a long ago essay that I think I posted recently, but it belongs here as well.