I haven’t been at my best

Picking fights and taking no prisoners

I didn’t know what had me- What Demon?

Turns out it’s ” My Place in the World ( demon)”

Something I usually steer away from

But I’ve invited the world in- hosting

An Open Studio in October.

Me – my right to be here, expressing

and making things, I am the world

The world is me.

I took my germ ridden body- up hill

Banks and I enjoy an outing in nature

So off we went early, coffee in hand

Right before the big show shuts down

It’s the color of happiness in the high country

Driving with care to dodge the squirrels-

Busy creatures this time of year

And in the woods,

Dropping pinecone missiles

That would hurt…

One young squirrel let us get up close

His tail wrapped over his head, munching

I was sorry we disturbed him.

His gnomic world – short, succinct, crisp, and economic.

He turned quick when he finally saw us

While I held Banks leach tight.

It’s hard to turn back towards home

Something so vital in the woods.

On a center stage of my own creating

I didn’t turn my entire self over to my “message”

I was still in the room-

Still self aware and eee gods- it was bad.

If I’m going to be speaking in tongues

Then I have to let go and enter into

That subliminal space of truth

Where important words – live

Allowing them to flow through-

unimpeded by a personal identity.

“““““““““““““““““““““““““`

A steep learning curve is upon me-

I bet there is one riding on you too.

This is a shout out to Terry Bell

Eighth generation on the same land

Down East Maine,

We once did a two week traverse of Yellowstone

And it was always we two bringing up the rear.

Having shorter legs then those giants ahead-

our porky- pig legs did get us up the ravine and over

A brother in law of the highest caliber. We had fun together.

“““““““““““““““““““““““““`

On today’s hike in the rain

I was trailing John and Banks

When I tripped on a branch

And went forward onto my knees

Head coming in touch with the hill.

I thought wow- that was such a small fall

A person could really get hurt out here.

But at the same moment

I was the necessary-supplicant

The one bowing to the natural world.

And now it’s mushroom for dinner.

As I was going out the door

John said “Go off trail” and

Banks and I did just that

We forded the stream- our feet wet

Discovering the lake behind the known lake

Eating our food and having a sip of water

We moved on

Banks bouncing across the bog

Feet black like a fox

But when we entered the brambles

Banks made the call to turn back

And I agreed.

Sometimes it’s best to listen to our friends.

True comradery – we two.

This is Jean Pierre’s puffer fish- Pedro

He’s very friendly – comes over, with a wiggle of joy.

Each of us are so completely precious.

And my friend, Charlie, who battles on under – water

She is relentless, a mythic fighter, decades long

Giving and receiving all that life offers up

I think of her as Beowulf

Fighting the monster’s mother

Under the surface of the lake

We might see the ripples but

Most of us will never know…..

But I do.

And I know who will win- SHE WILL.

xxxooooxxxoooooooxxxxx

On this hot afternoon

I made peach jam

Not sure if it will set –

Pot bubbling beneath my spoon

I am an old woman.

And come winter, my jam , your cure

You will know I am a healer.

Now- I jump into the river

Swimming across the current- laughing

(And as I write this peach of a poem)

With only a towel around me- still cool

I am the young woman.

““““““““““““““““““““““`

Living the old chant are we…

“I am an old woman, I am a young woman

I am a healer and my soul will never die.”

Here’s to that!

Wild in it’s reaching tendrils

Climbing on multiple strings.

Higher than the roof it floats

Reaching for the moon

Ignorant of the distance

I too want to be unrealistic

And inspired.

At the end of the day- weary from my efforts

Banks and I headed down the road where-

I ran into Hannah, an artist women friend and

We spoke of the heaviness we feel

Our global warming worries multiplying

The weight of it in our bones and that

Transmuting the grief is now a full time job

Like mushrooms who eat the oil

This is alchemy

Reaching for the elixir of the shared cup

Any two will do.

Tried of myself, my opinions and concerns

I asked John if he wanted to go to Brainard Lake?

The high country is a cure-

And walking with John is a luxury-

He doesn’t much like trails- so off we go

Trapsing through the woods

Wintergreen under foot, decaying logs,

Lichened branches to dodge

So comfortable and at home- off trail.

What have we been busy doing?

This is our oldest connection, our roots

Our best way of relating

The sensate adventure of off trail.