In the low places

Where my losses have accumulated

The yellow leaves have left the tree

Perhaps Banks and I will muster a walk.

But for now I will sit

And just be with my experience.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

Our wild- one man band- Jesse

Has moved out – due to lack of funds

But really the chaos – almost killed us

But I will miss him.

So few of us believe in magic

These days- and it’s his first choice.

Transitions are hard- even ones you wished for.

“““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`

My friend Bobby died on Weds-

As the 3i Atlas was closest to our sun

She too believed in Magic.

Tiny birds nests of treasures gathered

Each and everything held as sacred.

Fox came around the corner of the house

Stopping to poop- Banks will go crazy about that

The audacity!

My bold red headed friend – like fox

Is coming for tea…

We have co funded a scholarship fund

On Pine Ridge- at Lakota College.

The two of us having gone up there in our 50’s.

A week of living in a third world nation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~“

The kids wrote poetry

I must of prompted- smell and touch.

The one I selected for you is called Big Bats

(The name of gas station on Pine Ridge)

It is written by Eliza Star Comes Out.

“““““““““““““““““`

When I go to Big Bats

I see people talking

I can smell the food there cooking

When I touch the ice cream, it is freezing

Sometimes I can hear kids screaming

When I go outside

I see cars all over

I can smell gas all over the place

I touch oil with my shoe.

It doesn’t come off.

I hear the cashier talking on the intercom

I can taste the dirt in the air I am breathing in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

If you want to contibute to the

Gerald One Feather, Leonard Little Finger

Scholarship fund- send me an email.

I sat with a friend- patting her hand..

Her son died this week- just

Shortly after her husband.

I took soup and apple crisp

And a willingness to enter…

Remembering the wisdom of breath-

“On the inbreath- just don’t turn away from the suffering”

This is not about fixing anything…

But somehow offering up my body

Breathing with the impossible reckoning

No sense – no shore to stand on

The death of her son-

And his brother

And their father.

I didn’t know her middle child

So I asked the group gathered to tell me about him

Meeting for the first time this exuberant human

Photos of him smiling

Holding up a mushroom

He’d found like it was the best thing ever.

I ascended the steaming hill

To meet with LOR

Who would give instruction

Guidance as to what was next.

Short of breath as I topped the hill

Sat Lor- cloaked and waiting for me.

Sulfur steam and the sound of boiling mud –

I bowed my head

Hearing about what I must make

And then leave for another generation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everyday the scales weighs out our measure

And has the mythical in it.

LOR- now sits in my heart

Giving clear direction

If I will only listen.

““““““““““

In 1992- John planned a hike across Yellowstone

Sort of a plotted vision quest for us- Willow and Em were 18

The imagination will so quickly agree to wonder_ I have seen it.

John’s mystical adventure for the eight of us

Yellowstone

A moment of breakthrough- thank you thank you thank you

A stressful situation sent me on a quest- I guess and

I was able to see my own nutty inner patterns

The false trades I fall into as if they will save me.

““““““““““““““““““““““

But while working on a painting last night….

I saw that when I paint

I have no fear and that there is in me

A land called no fear

And from this place I was able

To see and name old patterns

Activated automatically when I am in fear-

But not if I am conscious of the choice.

Profound stuff- if you’re up for it.

Praise stress- what a pal.

This little bear is standing still

Unlike my friend’s little boy

Who was constantly moving.

Some mom’s are given a child

Who need a level of care

That is staggering…

Apples in the basket- apples out

Gentle- gentle – gentle

Those hands reaching too roughly for the dog.

Funny non verbal little whirlwind- grinning into the moment

They call it down syndrome.

And she is with him 100%, patient, loving

All seeing – all believing too.

The level of her service

Through one small child is a wonder to behold..

With no need-

For things to be different.

Maybe I can melt my stiff little heart

Just a little- I stand in awe.

Tom Mangelsen is up on You Tube

A 60 mintues rerun

He has healed his soul

By standing behind a camera

All day long – for years.

I could tangibly feel his love of bears

Especially a mother bear, named 399

He stirred my own love for bears

So I thought I’d paint one

It was deep let go though

I wasn’t allowed to paint out of my mind

So as the drawing failed

and I was wiping the canvas with a sponge

There came the bear

Love made it happen, not me

Not even my own love

But LOVE

We are testing these waters

Is LOVE actually real…

Let’s be surprised shall we?

““““““““““““`

I will show you the painting – one day soon

Love Sally

The morning sun- lights the grass circle

An unplanned miracle

As I sit with tea and just be

Taking in what happens.

Like the four male deer spashing their way

Down the middle of the river-

Healthy and wet ( x rated)

They parade before me.

“““““““““““““““““““““

Everthing wants us to wake up

On a hike, yesterday, with John

Lightning stuck a scree field

Just off to the side of where we stood.

FLASH and BOOOOOMMMMM…sending

Loud rocks of scree tumbled down

A cloud of dust where it hit the earth.

It made me so happy

To be this awake..

Everything in conspiring now….

Don’t you feel it?

My friend forgave me

She said it was Uranus’s fault

That we’d gotten caught for a minute

In the illusion of separation.

What a relief that we are cosmic

And so quick to choose again

Words – like- I love you-

Get the job done in a minute.

“““““““““““““““““

I have returned to the still point

Eating my breakfast of fruit

With flowers and candlelight..

On this wet autumn day

Delicious Libra- weighing in the balance

Of what really matters.

“Called or not Called God is There”

Can this really be true….perhaps

In moments when we allow it

Before retreating to the familiarity

Of the obsessive mind and it’s many tricks.

““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““

Four darling teens paid us a brief visit, yesterday

( Jean Pierre’s friends- Seniors at Boulder High)

And when they were leaving

I said to each

“Good job at being a kid”

Is it that simple- that our mere existence is enough.

That is the called or not called – enoughness

Of our existance –

I could see this shining truth in them

Now- to see this in myself

ahhhhhhh- equinox.