Breathing slowly through the heart

Calling on Higher Power

The First Step of the 12 steps….

As we stumble around inebriated on media..

I called for help today

And it’s wild how quick I got it.

How can this be?

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I had gotten thrown off course

By the storm that is America

Or what is left of her.

But I am obligated as an elder

To set the fear aside- consciously.

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Breathing with the heart

Slow and easy.

It’s called SHOLDER- space holders.

Hello Best Beloveds…..

Can we stand in the fierce beauty

And feel the Earth

The power of her love

That sings in our bones.

We are not separate- She is us

And we are Hers.

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This long ago-photo is of John and I

Out for our three days and nights

Sleeping on the snow- bone cold.

But in such awesome stillness

As to never be the same.

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On that note-

There is a ski expedition film on You Tube-

About when John and two others skied

The Mountains of Colorado.

The film is called Moving Line.

Just a moving line in the snow.

An art project I offer to children who visit

A small collection of fuzzy balls-

Glued to paper in your very own cosmic order.

And when my young guest is gone

On my coffee table remains…..

Fuzzy prayer beads

For me to contemplate

And come to understand

The divine nature of things.

If she is a bear then so am I

She came to my house

With her eyes shining and hips wide

Sniffing the river – saying no to tea…

And proceeded to tell us her tale

Of the Bear Portal…

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She had been in Northern California

Where there are lots of bears….

Driving at night- alone

When she came upon a bear

By the side of the road.

Her mind racing – she suddenly let go

And laid down next to her still warm fur

And held her in her arms..

Eventually sitting with her in her lap

And finally standing up

With the bear before her.

When she let out a growl

With the last of the air in her lungs.

The bond was made.

( Bear sitting on my couch- smiling)

I too am a full bellied bear

Eating honey-

And if I seem a bit gruff

Well I can’t help it- it’s my nature.

What a joyful romp to be in company

Of another she bear- who came to remind me

Of mySELF.

Weary from the birth

I have my second cup of coffee….

It’s been a solstice of letting go

A surrendering to the light…

Which equates in human terms

As more acceptance

“Of “what I can not change.”

The thing about healing is

It can happen quick..

But the preparing for it

Can take a lifetime.

We deserve to be free of the burdens

That have defined us.

Can we dare to be bran new?

Take that chevy for a ride

Wind in our hair.

Whom Does the Grail Serve?

If we forget to ask – then nothing can heal.

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It was late afternoon

In an industrial part of Boulder

An odd place for a walk

But Banks and I both needed a stretch….

Heading back toward the car-

We approached a man in a black T shirt

Getting ready to bed down for the night

By a utility box- with his two white sheets.

And as we passed -he warmly called out

“Merry Christmas”

And where do we go from here…

In the parking lot – my car held

An extra warm shirt and a travel blanket

Which I took over to him.

He’d already covered up with his sheets-

Shivering.

I suggested that I drive him to the shelter

But he said that he wasn’t good with people.

I handed him my jacket , knowing it was not enough.

I think of him..

One of us who lives

And possibly dies- so close to the veil.

Our shared mythology experienced for a moment.

Thank you.

When we were young

John’s mother bought him a raft

Tor 800 dollars and he and his friend

Formed a rafting company called Styx River.

The river between life and death.

( I guess they were warning their customers)

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In my morning mediation

As I allow for a “part “to come forward

I didn’t know who it was a first

But I trusted the guy…

His boat gently rocking on the River Styx

Holding his latern to brighten the dark

It turns out he’s an old friend…

His only task is to ferry me across

When it’s time.

I love this guy and he loves me.

It’s love that carries us over.

As we become Galactic Beings

( Does anyone listen to Pam Gregory?)

She is most encouraging

Framing these difficult days

As a cleaning of the house.

A time to experience-

Feelings that just need to be felt….

Tranformed into something more round….

Their sharp edges not pricking the heart.

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There are little kids in us

That get hurt or sad or mad and inside of me

I have a tough orphaned street-urchin kid

He’s mad as hell and because

I understand his point of view

He is now willing to accept shelter in my house.

I’ve left the door open

Feels right to both of us.

On this windy night.

Meet my project- this small book 4.5 x 6

I’d made a prototype with a friend

To print on Amazon ‘s self publishing-

Rabbit hole… but it didn’t have soul.

The Marys required my old school-

Joyful cutting and glueing –

The table covered with the chaos of creation.

It was a pre -computer day

Delighting in the process of making art

Hands on- all the way.

I’d love to send you one-

But just as in making the book

This is old school – send 5 dollars

With a return- stamped envelope to

Sally King- 618 Apple Valley Rd, Lyons Co 80540

” The soul asks for a change

The mind agrees

But the field chooses the familiar…

Not out of resistance

But out of protection.

You repeat what once saved you.”

But when the original emotion is finally felt

We get another vibrational narrative….

A new frequency replaces the old one.

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I have just dipped my toe into Parts Work

But right away- I meet a Part

Stranded on an island ( My Keeper of Sadness)

And when I asked her how I could be of help …

All she wanted was contact with The Self.

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Love is on this island too –

Liberation is at hand.