Beautiful People

John quotes Eckhart Tolle,

“It’s not about accomplishing the goal

It’s about this day and being in it.”

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Lucien has been here this week

And we had such a good time

He is a new person ( aren’t we all?)

Having been batted about by the elements

The whole family has been weathered

Illness is an unwished for journey of discovery.

Lucien is faithful and bright and better

We may never have a diagnosis.

Our minds are weary from endlessly seeking to know

But eventually the stubborn self

Turns inward and goes cosmic…..

Appreciating this day and beautiful people in it.

Thank you dear reader for our connection- xo Sally

Getting a Higer View

I threw the I Ching

And the oracle did not disappoint.

She said to place my worries and fears

Into the hands of the Unknown.

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LIne 5 in hexagram 32- Duration

” We are wondering if it is necessary for people

To go through the risks of learning by experience

We wonder if it can be correct to stand by

While others place themselves

In what we precieve as jeopardy

THE ANSWER IS “YES”

If we are to attain self mastery

We must slay the dragon of fear within ourselves.

If people are never exposed to risk

They are hampered in finding themselves”

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“Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death

I will fear no evil for thou art with me”

How else does the God of our experience find us

Without extreme exposure to the elements

The raw walk of a human life?

Foot-Prints In the Snow

Am I here

In the early falling snow?

Having wandered into the nether- world

The woods – vague and distant.

Me too… so out there that

It feels like a lot to pull myself back into form….

The amorphic self is whispering “why bother”?

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My dad was famous for his one liners….

“When it takes half the day to put your pants on

And half the day to take them off

It’s time for the deep six.”

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We practice the there and the here

So when we go

It feels like home.

Woman’s Paint

Holding the warm tea cup

The dog walks on the dry leaves

The river is a constant

My senses are open

As We welcome in a ritual day

Eight or so women will be arriving

To jointly put paint onto a log

And chant to the earth and community.

And we will send this unified field out into the day

As the Stag bows his head in our direction.

Sedna

Sedna surrendered into the sea

And became the goddess of the deep

After having being tossed out of the boat

( by her father)

Who further dissuaded her from clinging

By cutting off her fingers

Which sunk into the ocean to become

The seals and the whales.

We too have been tossed

( not for the first time)

From the sinking/ stinking Patriachy – so addeled

It won’t hold anyone much longer.

But this time is hard to witness

I’d perfer a more mellow transition

But I guess all the gnarly distruction must be seen

Before it can be transfomed into the dove.

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There are great and beautiful powers on the earth

And the seal knows to sun itself upon the rock.

Big love Soul Sisters and Brothers.

Rattle with the face of a bear

Wearing a mohawk of feathers

I emulate the Lakota Fancy Dance

My arms – eagle wings

As I bank a turn left then right

Stompting my feet

I stir the dust.

Remembering our first people

Living in America

With it’s very different value system.

( like now)

We can’t even imagine the creativity needed

To pull this off but we are getting a look at it.

We have allies..

The earth’s incredible power

“America the Beautiful”

The corn fields in Ohio, the splash of Lake Erie.

Driving across endless Texas with Pricilla

As we delivered art to Florida,

She just had to stop in Paris Texas

To have me take her photo.

And Yellowstone tucked inside Wyoming

It’s ever present sacred heat

Reminding us that the earth lives

And we are hers.

Leaving the mind and moving into my feet

I dance with you my beloved.

First Women President

Willow and I have been treading water

Kicking our legs in the deep mystery

As if the Lucien’s health depended on it

All the while opening in ourselves to

New spaces of faith.

And haven’t all of us have been treading or

Dreadiing the election

Posed on the cusp of the great unknown?

But as with Lucien, I feel a surge of light

Has entered and we will have

Our First Women President.

As I write this

A huge space blossoms in my being- feeling

The enormity of the shift in consciousness

Released from an intense pressure….

I can see us

As we just float- a few feet off the ground

Waving to a floating neighbor

Complete wonder is in the air.

Here we go!

A Moment of Repose

The late sun made the river sparlkle- so

I called to John suggesting he

Lay down beside me and see

The light on the water.

He fell asleep, my hand on his heart

His hands covering mine.

An unusual moment of repose

For we two rough wranglers-who

Sure do know how to “hold their own”

Defenses like fenses build long ago.

But on this sunlight afternoon

I did not stir an inch- listening to him sleep

I savored our love

Our truest truth.

Spirit Walk

The veil is thin between the worlds….

Am I here-it’s hard to know?

With so much spirit in the air.

The first frost has sent the dry leaves tumbling

To earth, like me one day.

From this dream to the one that follows

The here and the next –

We simultaneously exit in both.

Refected, by our inner DNA Helix

Looping left we experince the 3d dimension

While bending to the right – the 5th.

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Time to sit for a minute

Feeling the light run all the way down into

My roots, joining the tangled roots of all.

Metaphysically I am yours

And You are mine.

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It’s Halloween!

A Story

In turbulant times

A story can sooth the soul.

In a cave, an old woman

Sits weaving the most beautiful garment in the world

She uses her teeth to flatten the porcupine quills,

Worn to nubs, her smile is most effective.

Hers is a perfect creation and as she sets it down

to wander to the back of the cave to where

A huge caldren sits on a fire

It is full of seeds, all the seeds in the world

The forest, the plants, the flowers

And it requiring stirring so that it does not burn.

While she is there

A black dog comes into the cave

Sniffing the garment, it pulls on a thread

Until the whole thing is unwoven.

When the old women returns

She sees the pile of thread

Perhaps she yelled at the dog- I don’t know

But with a wild glimmer in her eye

She begins again

Knowing in herself that the next garment

Will be even more beautiful.

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I heard this story told by Michael Meade