“Swing low- sweet charoit
Coming for to carry me home
Swing low sweet chariot- coming
for to carry me home.” I hum—feeling
The sound of my voice in the empty air
“A band of angels lookin after me”
And so it is….
This journey we are on together
Into the unknown- an unknown
( most likely) we are totally familiar with
But on this side of things – it’s a gate
A mysterious other.
Present in this moment
Is all there is- ever..
As my friend Bobby says….
I love you always and forever.
I kiss you America
I kiss you awake
And oh it hurts to feel
How we have gone asleep at the wheel
Careening down the road
So much damage – we don’t even know…
But on the personal level…..
I know this amazing group of women( in their 70’s)
Elders in my town.. who quietly are doing the work.
The steward of the labyrinth
Maintaining it’s earthie chi with grace
Or the wise women behind the creation
Of our local botanical garden with it’s wells trimmed paths.
Or my friend, who weekly organizes us to protest- sign in hand
Wearing Red White and Blue glasses….
We kiss you Awake- America.
Heart in hand- hand on heart.
““““““““““““““““““““
Painting by Childe Hassam
The Auenue in the Rain- 1917
Joanna Macy put it this way…
“It is a good thing to realize that falling apart
is not such a bad thing.
Indeed, it is essential to transformation
As the cracking of outgrown shells.
Anxieties and doubts can be creative
not only for the person
but for the society because
Our fears permit new approaches to reality.”
“What disintegrates in periods of rapid thransformation
Is not the self- but it’s defenses.
Self protection restricts vision
Going to pieces however uncomfortable
Can open us up to new perceptions”
“In our culture , despair is feared and resisted
Because it represents a loss of control
We dodge it by demanding instant solutions to problems
We seek a quick fix.
Acknowledging our despair
Involves telling the truth about what we see and feel-
Truth telling is like oxygen-
It returns us to health and vigor.”
“Pain for the world
The outrage and the sorrow
breaks us open to a larger sense of who we are.
It is the doorway
To our mutal belonging in the web of life”
You are not alone
We are part of a vast- global movement
The epochal transition from empire to Earth Community
This is the great Turning.
And the excitement , the alarm
Even the overwelm we feel
Are all part of our waking up to this collective adventure.
In the evening the cold air from the mountains
Swoops underneath the hot air of summer
I too am Katabatic
As I expand – into what is expanding in me
Pushing out
The tightly held old ways of being…..
What no longer serves.
Each dark night ( of the soul)
Removes one more chunk of the gunk
This weeks self portrait is only a temporary reflection,
Things are really moving.
Love’s got us – a strong wind in our hair
And on the water.
Watching the wren bring food to her babies
And listening to their tiny happy cheers
“Yeah a bug from mom”
My tuning forks healer ( lucky me)
Said “You have to feel it to heal it-
Those deep layers and it’s uncomfortable”
So much was buried until later-
” Well- later is now.”
The system wants balance as it wobbles….
Lightning strikes and pounds the sky.
Not mind- centic ( what I usually rely on)
It is the nature of nature itself
That can be trusted.
Bare feet on the ground.
Love Sally
Snake Medicine – the yin/yang of a marriage
It’s gifts and it’s “Oh My God are you kidding me?”
Last year on our anniversery John was bitten by a snake
A real show stopper…
But it was the return to being a dedicated partner that I needed.
In times of crisis –
It’s easy to set down ones burden basket
Being with the WHAT IS is such a relief.
The presence is a present.
We were married in a year of the snake
She is our quide- shed that old skin and begin again
But each year grow wiser- if you dare.
No wonder I am such a bad ass
According to my astologer …
My past life as an overly contained nun
Is now busting out at the seams…
With the same devotional quality- gone rogue.
““““““““““““““`
I am making a visual rosary
“Hail Mary Full of Grace”
(I took out sinners and Jesus too)
And people have asked me if I am catholic
And I haven’t understood
How this prayer found me… but it fits
In it’s the devotion to the feminine journey
Birth and death and return to birth.
I have done 54 blue and white drawings of her
As in 54 rosary beads…
Like clean laundry – drying in the sun.
Images of the Divine- She
Ours alone to claim or let go.
No rules, dogma or words…
Only HER.
I hosted an art show without enough boundaries
And today I have the same feeling as little Sal-
Pounded by the waves in Lake Erie- unable to get out.
I thought that was the end of me….
They had left me with my Grandfather ( worst choice ever)
He was oblivious to the grave danger – my near death.
Now the traumas are so subtle you have to dig in
To make them real.. to Recognize them.
““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““““`
Jay, who does poetry readings understood what had happened
The vulnerablity and subsequent abondonment of the self,
Primitive survival triggered, talking too much- without breathing or water.
Jay said ” Well, when you get hurt – You know you are alive”
All you need is one person who gets it.
Every year on this day- in Les Saintes Maries de la Mer
This lovely being is taken into the sea
Carried on the shoulders of Roma men
Devoted to her energy here on earth….
Her strength renewed by the sea
And people who are present to this celebration
Are in awe of the love- of the devotion for
She who is the servant- the humble one
(The still hidden daugther of mm and Jesus.)
““““““““““““““““““““““““““
When I was little I heard about the second coming
And in the solitude of my room
I knew- that I was that
The secrets that children hold in their hearts
Of their spiritual greatness
In a world that tamps down greatness- right and left
There is a fierce requirement now- that we claim what we are
And let it shine, wet from the sea.
her soup pot 