I
So human
Forget
And then
Remember
Tending the garden within
Through loving care
Gathering in the bright energy
Dis Ease can not thrive on Mindful ground
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
A Poem Touched By A Dream
Mountain deep and star so bright
Companioned me all the night
Into the chambers of cavernous sight
Star does glow to see the mystery
No die ease on mindful ground
I shine, I shine and I am found
Land I must for one more round
Humans must know their history
Companioned me all the night
Into the chambers of cavernous sight
Star does glow to see the mystery
No die ease on mindful ground
I shine, I shine and I am found
Land I must for one more round
Humans must know their history
Monday, May 27, 2019
Into The Territory of The Mind of War
When I was visiting my son this past spring, there was this young group who had read Robin Wall Kimmerer's book and were meeting at a yoga studio down the road. The youth that I know today give me the best vision into the bright future.
Sometimes my dreams take a look and a turn into places not unlike Mordor. How many generations will it take to turn the tides of a war riddled culture? Tolkien knew the importance of companions. Let us take courage and quest to shift from this habit of mind twisted from the idus of war . There is The Fellowship of the Land: with some companions to keep the tide at bay, some companions to shift the grip of spirit of that one ring, some companions are Activists who walk through fire, past the hecklers and gossip and scorn, and some companions are Seers, into the form of the bright future.
Slowly attitudes of war leak, becoming common practice in homes, schools, churches. We become forgetful."Once they were kept in containers marked with skull and crossbones; the infrequent occasions of their use were marked with utmost care that they should come in contact with the target and with nothing else. With the development of the new organic pesticides and the abundance of surplus planes after the second World War, all this was forgotten."
Silent Spring (copyright 1962)
Rachel Carson
"Today the land where the Peacemaker walked and the tree of Peace stood isn't land at all, but beds of industrial waste sixty feet deep... Onondaga is a rarity in the United States, a Native nation that has never surrendered its traditional government, never given up it's identity, not compromised it's status as a sovereign nation,"
On March 11, 2005 the Onondaga Nation filed a complaint in federal court, so that they may once again exercise their caregiving responsibilities..They did not call their suit a land claim. Their intelligence as a people knew, and continues to know they're companionship to the sustainer of life. They did not call for relocation of residence, nor ask to set up a casino. They sought legal title that would enable them to steer a thorough cleanup of the sacred lake.
"In spring 2010, the federal court handed down it's ruling... The case was dismissed. In the face of blind injustice, how do we continue?"
Braiding SweetGrass
Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge And The Teaching of Plants (Copyright 2013)
Robin Wall Kimmerer
We must live into the brighter stories and join in a Fellowship of this Land.
Sometimes my dreams take a look and a turn into places not unlike Mordor. How many generations will it take to turn the tides of a war riddled culture? Tolkien knew the importance of companions. Let us take courage and quest to shift from this habit of mind twisted from the idus of war . There is The Fellowship of the Land: with some companions to keep the tide at bay, some companions to shift the grip of spirit of that one ring, some companions are Activists who walk through fire, past the hecklers and gossip and scorn, and some companions are Seers, into the form of the bright future.
Slowly attitudes of war leak, becoming common practice in homes, schools, churches. We become forgetful."Once they were kept in containers marked with skull and crossbones; the infrequent occasions of their use were marked with utmost care that they should come in contact with the target and with nothing else. With the development of the new organic pesticides and the abundance of surplus planes after the second World War, all this was forgotten."
Silent Spring (copyright 1962)
Rachel Carson
"Today the land where the Peacemaker walked and the tree of Peace stood isn't land at all, but beds of industrial waste sixty feet deep... Onondaga is a rarity in the United States, a Native nation that has never surrendered its traditional government, never given up it's identity, not compromised it's status as a sovereign nation,"
"In spring 2010, the federal court handed down it's ruling... The case was dismissed. In the face of blind injustice, how do we continue?"
Braiding SweetGrass
Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge And The Teaching of Plants (Copyright 2013)
Robin Wall Kimmerer
We must live into the brighter stories and join in a Fellowship of this Land.
Thursday, May 23, 2019
Eve's Story of the Fall
There came a time when the stories in the garden were being squeezed into one voice. At first I became bored, but then a stench grew. The winds stopped changing. I suppose that's difficult to imagine, winds that do not shift a single leaf. A singular control stayed in the undercurrents and slowly began to voice; "order, order, order". A slow withering of creation became apparent. Adam could not smell the stagnate stench, but then he never ventured to the far east of Eden. He must have thought that was normal as he slowly adapted. Nothing new grew on the west side. Not a blade of grass moved, the winds did not dance. That singular voice in the west; "order, order, order", thought it could control the winds.
Eve paused her story to look toward me. She saw my eyes for the first time. You see it don't you, in the time you come from? Yes. For us in our time the many realities are becoming hidden and a stench grows. Not all give their power to a singular order. Those that do can not see all the realities there, hugging them as close as the width of a leaf. That wind when it is stilled, where no leaf moves, is an alarming phenomenon in many parts of the world. I encouraged her to go on. When sitting in such a vibrant garden and the gardener wishes to tell me a story, I listen. Please continue Eve, I'm listening.
Along the edge in the far east of Eden a rim developed. I began to put on fins that afforded me here. It was luscious swimming, far away from any hint of time. The stream grew to a river and gratitude was birthed. During this Eden, all that lived in the garden knew their first birth. I swam often in this flow from Source that sourced all potential, the birthing place. It is an uncontainable flow that knows creation.
We looked at each other for a brief moment, as she opened the understanding from this river to the making of the human heart. We giggled at the marvel of it's forming. Then my wonder drew to me and I glanced into another story she knew. But she closed the curtains on that wisp, the width of that leaf turning closed. It was a seeing into the forming of hearts among the trees. Remember, she said, you want to hear the ending of this story. That is your challenge, to fully end one story before diving into another. You will get better at this, it is a challenge many face when the winds dance freely about them and the heart of trees open their wisdoms to them. She gave me a trickster's smile, and I laughed so hard knowing the road that will take me back here for the next story.
Eve continued. Each time I stepped from the river, fins to feet, water drops fell. You might call them inventions or new creations, rain droplets from the act of this transition. There at the edge of Eden was fresh newness all lit up, threads from Source. I was young then and did not know how to stay with the forming of them.
We gazed at each other and a twinkle of knowing the power of stories whispered between us.
I became sad and frequently traveled back west to hold the company of Adam. He was so lonely and continued to refuse to follow me and give his fins a try. As I held his companionship, I watched him step by step overcome his fear of losing the Beauty of Eden. When he looked upon me in those places of fear, he saw me as reckless. He would say, "To give up your feet and leave the sanctuary of Eden is stupidity." We both remember that first time that word was spoken. We laugh at that point in the story, him speaking it and me creating storms from the hearing of it. In this stepping away from his fear, he created an apple tree.
She saw my understanding of what such a feat meant. To bring in creation at the west side of Eden when the undercurrent was loud and stinky,"order, order, order", was the birthing of miracles.
He offered this floral gift to me and I spent many a story close to the apple tree with him. Together we sprouted the most luscious green vital force, a mere sprout then. This is when wonder was born. The tree's flowers blossomed into fruit. We ate the apples and wondered what else we could create together. We did not know our delight threatened that singular voice. That voice that killed the movements of wind and rotted the dream of creation. One night asleep under the apple tree we dreamt and saw a spiral form in the void. The singularity of a one sided order, thought it could stop all of creation. But I knew this was not the case, I saw the face at the core of the spiral, Adam could not. He had spent no time in the river from Source.
She turned to look at me, a fierce Goddess now thundering, yet holding the calm of her storms within the grace and containment of experience. When I saw this into an image I could understand, she brought that image into a mask that covered her eyes. Through this veil I glimpsed at the face she dreamt. Primal winds like none my body in bed had ever experienced came into the space we shared. I became afraid for my physical body, so newly birthed. She took my hand, stepped me back into the telling of her story and the winds shifted to the gentlest of rhythm. In this transition, I glimpsed another story. Again her eyes in a shift of that trickster smile, warned me to wait before I went chasing after it. In this experience with her, learned something of the trickster way. I could offer a glimpse of further story and then command attention of the listener back to the story unveiling into knowing. I am good at practicing past a challenge. I will find the story I thought to myself, of the child re-born from the zephyrus winds. Before she spoke into an ending of the story of her fall from Eden, we sat for a pause in the garden so that I might come all the way back to myself.
This benevolence turned as a feared faced parent, and spoke through Adam. "You can gaze upon your creation together, but never taste it's fruits." " Why bring need into this paradise I have created?" "Why wonder into a desire of more?" "Is this perfection not enough?" I refused sadness when Adam formed resentment and harbored it's energy toward change. Conflict rose up between us, the companions. It was from this conflict I learned to bring story from beyond the east of Eden to the west. I offered Adam a compromise. "If you still feel we should not eat the apples after you have wore your fins and swam in the river just beyond east of Eden, then I also will stop eating those luscious red creations."
I watched her take a long last breath of this story before it's end. Eve please hurry now, I am drifting back to my body in bed.
It came to past that in Adam's transition from fins to feet, he was unable to contain his love for creation. He ran with a power of wind that I was not able to follow. I was in awe of his quickness. In my pause I noticed he left his fins behind. I took both of ours and stored them deep into a chamber within. When I made it to the apple tree I also could not contain my love as I watched him take the first glorious bite. I strolled over and in a graceful gesture of movement, gently grasped and took a bite and then another. I reached to grasp a seed before it feel and placed it into a warm fertile chamber within. While holding Adams hand, within our wild wonder, we laughed and tumbled to Earth.
As I drifted back to my body in bed I saw her trickster eyes flare and wondered of the story of how she would present Adam his fins.
Art by Kimberly Webber
Eve paused her story to look toward me. She saw my eyes for the first time. You see it don't you, in the time you come from? Yes. For us in our time the many realities are becoming hidden and a stench grows. Not all give their power to a singular order. Those that do can not see all the realities there, hugging them as close as the width of a leaf. That wind when it is stilled, where no leaf moves, is an alarming phenomenon in many parts of the world. I encouraged her to go on. When sitting in such a vibrant garden and the gardener wishes to tell me a story, I listen. Please continue Eve, I'm listening.
Along the edge in the far east of Eden a rim developed. I began to put on fins that afforded me here. It was luscious swimming, far away from any hint of time. The stream grew to a river and gratitude was birthed. During this Eden, all that lived in the garden knew their first birth. I swam often in this flow from Source that sourced all potential, the birthing place. It is an uncontainable flow that knows creation.
We looked at each other for a brief moment, as she opened the understanding from this river to the making of the human heart. We giggled at the marvel of it's forming. Then my wonder drew to me and I glanced into another story she knew. But she closed the curtains on that wisp, the width of that leaf turning closed. It was a seeing into the forming of hearts among the trees. Remember, she said, you want to hear the ending of this story. That is your challenge, to fully end one story before diving into another. You will get better at this, it is a challenge many face when the winds dance freely about them and the heart of trees open their wisdoms to them. She gave me a trickster's smile, and I laughed so hard knowing the road that will take me back here for the next story.
Eve continued. Each time I stepped from the river, fins to feet, water drops fell. You might call them inventions or new creations, rain droplets from the act of this transition. There at the edge of Eden was fresh newness all lit up, threads from Source. I was young then and did not know how to stay with the forming of them.
We gazed at each other and a twinkle of knowing the power of stories whispered between us.
I became sad and frequently traveled back west to hold the company of Adam. He was so lonely and continued to refuse to follow me and give his fins a try. As I held his companionship, I watched him step by step overcome his fear of losing the Beauty of Eden. When he looked upon me in those places of fear, he saw me as reckless. He would say, "To give up your feet and leave the sanctuary of Eden is stupidity." We both remember that first time that word was spoken. We laugh at that point in the story, him speaking it and me creating storms from the hearing of it. In this stepping away from his fear, he created an apple tree.
She saw my understanding of what such a feat meant. To bring in creation at the west side of Eden when the undercurrent was loud and stinky,"order, order, order", was the birthing of miracles.
He offered this floral gift to me and I spent many a story close to the apple tree with him. Together we sprouted the most luscious green vital force, a mere sprout then. This is when wonder was born. The tree's flowers blossomed into fruit. We ate the apples and wondered what else we could create together. We did not know our delight threatened that singular voice. That voice that killed the movements of wind and rotted the dream of creation. One night asleep under the apple tree we dreamt and saw a spiral form in the void. The singularity of a one sided order, thought it could stop all of creation. But I knew this was not the case, I saw the face at the core of the spiral, Adam could not. He had spent no time in the river from Source.
She turned to look at me, a fierce Goddess now thundering, yet holding the calm of her storms within the grace and containment of experience. When I saw this into an image I could understand, she brought that image into a mask that covered her eyes. Through this veil I glimpsed at the face she dreamt. Primal winds like none my body in bed had ever experienced came into the space we shared. I became afraid for my physical body, so newly birthed. She took my hand, stepped me back into the telling of her story and the winds shifted to the gentlest of rhythm. In this transition, I glimpsed another story. Again her eyes in a shift of that trickster smile, warned me to wait before I went chasing after it. In this experience with her, learned something of the trickster way. I could offer a glimpse of further story and then command attention of the listener back to the story unveiling into knowing. I am good at practicing past a challenge. I will find the story I thought to myself, of the child re-born from the zephyrus winds. Before she spoke into an ending of the story of her fall from Eden, we sat for a pause in the garden so that I might come all the way back to myself.
This benevolence turned as a feared faced parent, and spoke through Adam. "You can gaze upon your creation together, but never taste it's fruits." " Why bring need into this paradise I have created?" "Why wonder into a desire of more?" "Is this perfection not enough?" I refused sadness when Adam formed resentment and harbored it's energy toward change. Conflict rose up between us, the companions. It was from this conflict I learned to bring story from beyond the east of Eden to the west. I offered Adam a compromise. "If you still feel we should not eat the apples after you have wore your fins and swam in the river just beyond east of Eden, then I also will stop eating those luscious red creations."
I watched her take a long last breath of this story before it's end. Eve please hurry now, I am drifting back to my body in bed.
It came to past that in Adam's transition from fins to feet, he was unable to contain his love for creation. He ran with a power of wind that I was not able to follow. I was in awe of his quickness. In my pause I noticed he left his fins behind. I took both of ours and stored them deep into a chamber within. When I made it to the apple tree I also could not contain my love as I watched him take the first glorious bite. I strolled over and in a graceful gesture of movement, gently grasped and took a bite and then another. I reached to grasp a seed before it feel and placed it into a warm fertile chamber within. While holding Adams hand, within our wild wonder, we laughed and tumbled to Earth.
As I drifted back to my body in bed I saw her trickster eyes flare and wondered of the story of how she would present Adam his fins.
Art by Kimberly Webber
Monday, May 20, 2019
Saturday, May 18, 2019
To Listen
I am grateful there are no more hours to the day then is afforded to me in the long summer arc of the sun. As the birds sing in the morning and softer as gentle lovers into the night, my Soul. From the night into dawn, even when I come from places where horrors threaten to gobble up peace, I feel this reset that nourishes. Each morning awaking into this moment of time and body, Spirit whispers, you are here now. Remember yourself. I spread into this life. I have learned my anchors. If I had no anchor I would spread too open the sails to the winds. The noisy people who have lost their harmony that dwell in this time would be unbearable. I am practiced, with many anchors and can fall in love with an ease now into this body and time. This morning waking into gentleness, there is a shift in the winds across my Soul. This is the still gentle wind, I am steadied. To experience breath in a symphonious union of Spirit, my mind smiles and is still.
Art by Ed Org
I am grateful there are no more hours to the day then is afforded to me in the long summer arc of the sun. As the birds sing in the morning and softer as gentle lovers into the night, my Soul. From the night into dawn, even when I come from places where horrors threaten to gobble up peace, I feel this reset that nourishes. Each morning awaking into this moment of time and body, Spirit whispers, you are here now. Remember yourself. I spread into this life. I have learned my anchors. If I had no anchor I would spread too open the sails to the winds. The noisy people who have lost their harmony that dwell in this time would be unbearable. I am practiced, with many anchors and can fall in love with an ease now into this body and time. This morning waking into gentleness, there is a shift in the winds across my Soul. This is the still gentle wind, I am steadied. To experience breath in a symphonious union of Spirit, my mind smiles and is still.
Art by Ed Org
Friday, May 17, 2019
Of The Rose
Star so bright
You shine upon me this night
You watch the sprouting of my growth
Silky red petals brought to light
With my blossom stretched so wide
My petals to the wind and Star beside
Your light does pierce upon my silk
Poetry and music as the lied
I greet you as flower to star
In my longing, no need to travel afar
Season into season you shine your light
Together we make the Avatar
Art by Igor Vladimirovich Belkovsky
Art by Igor Vladimirovich Belkovsky
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"... I hope that you'll always remember that your life is charmed, and that your magic is you; and you don't have to prove anyt... -
There came a time when the stories in the garden were being squeezed into one voice. At first I became bored, but then a stench grew. The wi... -
I love the smell of the library, like fresh ancient magic that warms the mind into all sorts of wonderment. What better place is there for t...