“Swing low sweet chariot – coming for to carry me home”

Banks nudges the door open with his nose because

John is blowing cottonwood seed from the deck

From his wheel- chair.

In an Odyssey of our own

Mythology came to bite us

Not a lethal doze

But way more then I would of asked for

If I lament too much I will be lost so instead

I will show you things I like

The bird at the feeder, the flowers in the vase- Banks asleep in the sun

The bird sounds- even the sharp ones

Dead flies on the sill, sunlight

My old hands, that I am writing

That the day is mine, that I can rest if I want to.

Catapulted into spirit

On this day of the Lunar standstill

Our Sun most North and our Moon most South

In Chaco Canyon, The Dagger of Light

Pierces the spiral petroglyph

Made a 1000 years ago and

If you pause a moment you can feel it

A call to go deep and be.

To standstill with our sister the moon

Lunar- ly – I lean with risk toward you….

Always there is the possibility of snake bite.

Sometimes life sweeps us up when

Someone we love has been injured

And needs our full time support and care.

This has been my fate of late

And as an advocate for his medical care

I found myself fully lost in Duality

Kind of a terrible place to be

But now that he is on the mend

I savor my return to personal expression

In writing to you, I exist.

This is how I know myself.

It’s a full moon solstice today

So full- so complete- growing is constant.

At my neighbor girl’s graduation party

Her breasts, lively in her small bathing suit

Announcing that she is ready…

Enviably ready- as I drag my feet

On what is changing in my my own life.

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Changes that are asking for more of me

To emerge from the thicket.

Like the three young deer I saw this morning

Come down off the back hill with a trot

Crossing the green field

Then the river -in single file.

One before the other.

All of it symbolic- a call to

Invest again in my own life- it’s specificity.

Fulfilling the desires of my inner child

That deep place of spark and purpose.

She and I do a pretty good job but

It’s in the naming of a disruptive feeling

That the release comes.

Crossing the river to the other side.

John has been a proponent of hiking with a light pack,

Hence “Super Light” has become a metaphor.

I think that I write in this way too-

Limiting the use of my words

( I often subtract any that aren’t strictly needed)

But as it turns out

At the risk of not being understood.

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A friend of mine had to check on me

As a result of my last blog post ( Venus)

In which I thought I as waxing eloquent

About our creative potential

To create the world a- new-today and everyday

( I ‘m a bit of an ecstatic).

And I was raised by drunken sailors

With their jaunty language and a wild turn of phrase.

I didn’t mean to worry her….

I just get carried away.

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Communication is a wild endeavor.

How many ways it can go wrong?

It makes me wonder….can I try harder to be clear

Or maybe it’s just impossible.

As an artist – I play around with paint and words

And it eases my heart…

Transforming pain into nectar.

Art heals me.

Thank you for being part of this flow,

We do this together for better or for worse.

The frequency of love is now established

Post Patriarchy (official last day was May 15th)

It’s time to get creative.

No more bitching….

What was no longer matters.

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As in a dream- now shall we dream a- new.

The love channel is oceanic

Sweeping the beach clean…

Feeling a pulse that is not mine alone.

We are all in the same womb….

Splashing about…..What a Day.

Very oceanic

So many things wish to strip us of our innate knowing,

Like waiting for test results….

Weird dominate medical authority trip.

Let’s question everything- shall we?

No more pacing in our cell blocks.

We humans have fairy wings

But it requires a fierceness to use them…

To overcome the cultural trace of our conditioning.

But we have the capacity to out- shine the shadows.

Be Gandalf at the bridge.

My sister Jan send me this perfect card a few years ago

And it is a treasure-

Especially now that there will be no more cards coming.

I set it on the counter as my birthday gets close

John sees it as clutter.

But I’m her little sister, hand on hip…

“It’s not just the clothes, it’s the attitude

Happy Birthday to someone

Who’s aways known that.”

“““““““““““““

It took me a while

But I feel that I have fulfilled the prophecy.

Thanks Jan for your spell casting- your wish making

I am that.

Walking around the pond

The windy ripples on the water

Inform me

Reconnecting my breath and bone

Returning to Self

I sometimes say- I love you Sally.

Today as I rounded the bend

A group of geese launched off the shore

And in their midst were

Five tiny goslings- their fist swim.

“Swim said the mother-

We swim said the five

So they swam all day, newly alive.”

Bending low – I plant spinach seed while

The birds flutter at the feeder

Swaying the seed, spring-drunk

( aren’t we all?)

But what about the cosmic-seed planted

In our collective wombs,

That bright seed of love

That we are duty bound to cherish

And protect.

That’s the seed we want to acknowledge

Parent and Repeat.