2022 222200002222000 2022

Two represents duality and Zero is non dual

Zero is you and me

before and after and in between.

But we do want for guidance here

with our demanding human life…

maybe if I can get lower down

in my own sweet body

into my belly

out of the head ( out of the story)

I can learn to read the belly’s signals

and trust them.

(noticing too the confirming synchronicities

that validate my experience.

” Synchronicity as an active way of life

a path of steady observation

and a response to the little messages

that come from the environment every day:

sensations in the body,

encounters

and events that happen,

the way things line up in linear time

and all the little miracles.”

The spider’s web holds it’s shape

even in the strongest wind!

“From her belly she spins something from nothing

everything from the empty space within.

In the same way that a spider’s web

is infinitely sensitive to vibration

and the smallest movement is felt reverberating

over the entire web

so are all the actions and reactions

felt by everyone

contained in the web of life.

There is nothing that happens anywhere

on the planet

or galaxy, for that matter

that does not affect each one of us

and that we do not feel on some level.

Nothing we do is without consequences

Each life matters

at the same time,

each of us is no more then a tiny speck of light

Let’s be vow to be animal enough

to acknowledge the movements of the web,

made both safe and challenged by it’s sway.

The spiders web holds it’s shape

rocking us not gently but with a firm hand

on this New Years Day!

\

Are the young cottonwood volunteers

(perfect beaver food)

that have grown up here after the flood.

We also planted a number of trees

and now we have a beaver

who thinks nothing of taking down

a major tree……

which is exactly what happened.

It’s interesting to receive a heavy blow

from a creature I have reverence for

Like God , a beaver can deliver your next dose of woe

without bating an eyelash

I stand in Awe tinged by Anger

It had been John’s job to wrap the tree

He’d promised.

So my first impulse when I saw it down

was to get mad at him.

And as it often is in relationship

the coming together in a shared grief

is at first fractured by guilt or it’s equivalent…

“We should of been better prepared”

“We’re too old to manage this place”

So on this cold winter afternoon

John went out to wrap trees.

Attending to the effort of living

our softness returns….

dancing under the moonlight

(to the Moody Blues)

Two beavers- or one beaver and God

or two parts of a mutual God

Who can say?

and we are not separate.

The electromagnetic field that is my body

interweaves with yours

waves on the ocean.

Tomorrow is my sister, Jan’s, 80th birthday.

She is already with the beyond ( but still here in form)

The family is freaking out- of course

But what I feel is her readiness,

to just be the magnetic field…

tiny beads of light

invisible to the eye.

She is done for,

as they say in the West.

I had a dream Christmas night

That Anne pulled up to the curb

with Jan in the sidecar of the roadster,

ready to be off, on the adventure ahead.

The two of them side by side

tucked in low seats the engine purring

So on this eve of Jan’s birthday

Anne is in the roadster

ready to give her a lift

as soon as she steps over the threshold

off they will go, joy riding.

The horizon is not a line.

Two sister’s are circled up

as the unit they have always been.

And when I asked

Hey Anne ” do you know how to drive that?

in that quirky way of hers she said,

“I guess”

So get out of their way

Beep Beep – off they go!

In this season of the descent

Where Innana gets hung up on a meat hook

in the underworld

(in an attempt to aid her sister)

whittled down to nothing

no arms or legs or head- just a trunk

And isn’t that just it….

Our besties do this whittling

although we truly wish they wouldn’t

sisters, brothers, mothers, fathers, friends, spouses

taking away what isn’t me.

So much baggage,

so much dross.

that I have been fairly aggressive of late

demanding a way out….

shouting, stomping, pouting, wailing,

interesting to track

because something gave way

under the weight of my desire for liberation.

I was given this question

“Whose eyes are you looking out of”

and in this moment,

I saw my soul.

And it’s more like fire or wind or star.

Not human, truly other.

And living with this visitation has changed me,

something heavy has been lifted.

There are habits of emotion,

the sway of the heart.

but I’m not sure what I am gathering here.

I ( as fire) don’t appear to need anything.

Make Love Not War

Granny says- “Make Love not War

with Beaver and Redtail Blessings”

This year’s image for my annual print

(brought through in a mediation)

captures my inner masculine supporting me…

No small thing- this.. taken a lifetime!

How do men pull it off?

We have a four point buck in runt here,

in season, blind to anything

but the scent in the air

that has him trotting with purpose

and almost running us down.

That’s me.

I am running a bit hot, it all so new

and poor John

but I ‘m loving the sense of instinct and drive….

Wild old woman

integrating the societal need

for the men to get behind…

And isn’t this the underlying principle of Feminism?

Scary is a woman’s fangs (but her sharp teeth mean well)

I know the fight is an internal alignment

I own that

But come on guys

Have our backs, will ya?

Even though you might get bitten.

Integration

My friend held her hands out far

demonstrating the masculine principal known as Shiva

That which holds, that which offers divine space for the feminine,

allowing wild Ms Shakti to explode if she wants to

He just holds the space for her, no worries.

Like warm apples in a pot

ready to be made into pie!

Getting our toes wet

dipping into that salty sea of old age

wet with worries, not unfounded

Peter Pan and Captain Hook ( that’s me)

and a crocodile with a ticking clock inside.

My mate keeps to his work

but the truth be told, everything takes three times longer.

Perhaps it’s time to go deeper into the sea

where the water, thick with salt

lets us float for free

like turtles, old with time

and free.

John and I have been going at it

I’ve been introducing what could be called a a homeopathic dose

a suggestion really…

That we turn our sights toward our older years

( we are in our 70’s)

mutually gazing into the pasture of our later years

(Really not John and I at all)

So I’m not surprised when my innocent suggestion quickly becomes-

A fight to the death.

But there is good medicine in bringing up difficult topics

They do lose some of there sting, their bite.

It was the wedding of the century

and I was there.

Terry and Michele both live at Mesa Vista

the nursing home where my sister lived.

Michele always knew where Anne was.

She is the gatekeeper at the vortex

a cosmic human,

surviving a near fatal motorcycle accident in her 30’s

Some of us get whittled

into something akin to pure light.

I have stayed in touch with Michele

and when I visited her I met Terry.

They’d met when Michele was 17

and as Terry’s said

” She was with her old man

and I had a lady” …..

only to meet again in their 50’s,

both worse for wear.

But their wedding was the true ritual…

Odd angels, both of them.

(The groom so nervous I thought he might faint.)

Their willingness tangible

in a way that most of us have little access to.

As we hummed amazing grace

they walked back towards

I heard Michele say, over and over again,

I love Terry,

I love Terry,

I love Terry.