photojourney A~gust twothousandfifteen *Ozarks


In the Ozarks, there is plenty of water. Springs are especially !Magical! places full of wondrous entities invisible to the eye. And the water is delicious.


There are a plethora of old buildings ready to come down with readily usable materials. Here is an old barn that Ini is salvaging from. It’s quite possible most of the tin roof for our tiny strawbale home will come from this effort.


Aerial view of the property we’re most likely going to make a bid on this week. It’s mostly surrounded by forest (which we love), 100s of acres of which are inhabited by an ancient (70s) lesbian commune called DragonWagon. That’s Beaver Creek winding to the West. We have met the neighbors and while they are a slightly different brand of Crazy than we are (let me tell you my salvation story!), they seem to be generous, kind, and down-to-earth people (like most of the Missourians we’ve met!).


And of course, la araña… weaving her web

everything vibrates out from the center
sacred language prevails

in the midst of our violent economies, going back to the earth, where we take care of ourselves as if we are the earth *which we are


I believe this is the only way.

the full moon, psychic powers and letting go of my past

as i more fully step into who i am, my powers come back. as i turn the bend on another soul-cycle, i feel more integrated, more whole, more ready to further fully allow my creator-self to manifest.

Last night the super moon was just that SUPER. It hung low in the sky and was huge. My whole being felt drawn to it, magnetized, as if I was going to start floating up toward it. it was supercharging me energetically! Lately I’ve been coming to the realization that I am psychic. I’ve had this feeling for years now, but the confirmations are getting stronger, more palpable & astounding, even laughable at times! I think of friends who I haven’t thought of in ages and the next day they send me a message saying, I was thinking about you yesterday. I can also read people’s minds sometimes or I get “information” about people from near or far.

I feel hesitant to write these things, which is natural. I even feel some fear or a little scared (maybe genetic memories from the witch trials?). These gifts are not readily accepted in our society. They’re not really well-known or understood. By me even. I can’t control this power and, as of yet, I’m not even sure how I can use it as a gift. I know it gives me insights, yet I’m not sure how I can use them. I’m sure this will unfold in time. What I’d like now is to get more comfortable and familiar admitting it. Why do I choose the word admitting? Because it feels like letting some taboo cat out of the bag! I think this is for multiple reasons, some of which I’ll list below.

When I was growing up, I went to a fundamentalist Christian school, went to church, had a Christian mother, etc. I was taught a lot of stuff from the Bible about how witches are bad, magic is bad and is against God, magic is scary and you should stay away from it and that anyone who has these powers is basically a bad, evil witch who is against God and on the dark side. Now, that sounds so black and white and almost laughable! But, in summation, that’s really how my upbringing framed witches, paganism, witchcraft, psychic powers, etc.

I’ve spent the last few years getting to know the New Age community- its people, its trends, history, fashion, spirituality, healing methods, ceremonies, etc. It took a lot for me to “get over” my Christian upbringing to even let myself step foot in a pagan ceremony. Really! I remember in the beginning, I was so hesitant of it because I was taught that it was evil. It is evil to pray to any god except for the One God of Masculine Christianity. It is wrong to challenge this. It is wrong to make altars out of earth elements. It is wrong to invest yourself in New Agey stuff.  All of these “fears” I’ll call them, washed under me like a current and instilled hesitancy in me. Obviously there was something stronger in me that came from within and reached towards these experiences, but the original programming (imprinting, as one therapist called it) still lingers.

I’d like to release this! That is my intention in writing this article: I’d like to release this to live the life that I want to live, fully serving whatever god (god, goddess, spirituality, whatever) that I want to, living the life that I want to, being the person I want to be. My mom is a very heartfelt and strict Christian and I think this is a remaining thread I have yet to totally let go of. Because she openly disapproves of and says she is afraid of my path. That if I have pagan symbols or deer skulls, etc in my house, she won’t be able to visit. This hurts me and I am bothered that my mom has such a negative feeling toward my choices in life. Especially when they are choices that come so naturally for me.

I think this is also why I have hesitancy in admitting or fully stepping into the psychic powers that are starting to come through me. I am working on creating safe space for myself in it, because honestly it can be pretty scary when I start feeling them come in full-blast, like they did last night in the light of the full moon. I can feel a strong energy in my crown chakra and I start receiving all this information. I’m becoming more “okay” with this realization that this does happen to me. I think more acceptance will come with time and experience. For now, I am working on centering and grounding myself, creating a safe space around myself that only allows unconditional love, and really listening to what I hear, listening with the eyes of my heart and soul. I was so inspired last night to pay closer attention to these happenings after I read an interview by an amazing dancer who is also psychic (thank you spirit guides for orchestrating that 🙂 ).

This quote by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estes encourages me to frame and claim this transition from “survivorship” (from Fundamentalist Christianity & judgmental imprinting) to one of thriving and naming myself,

“Being able to say that one is a survivor is an accomplishment. For many, the power is in the name itself. And yet comes a time in the individuation process when the threat or trauma is significantly past. Then is the time to go to the next stage after survivorship, to healing and thriving. … One can take so much pride in being a survivor that it becomes a hazard to further creative development. … Once the threat is past, there is a potential trap in calling ourselves by names taken on during the most terrible time of our lives. It creates a mind-set that is potentially limiting. It is not good to base the soul identity solely on the feats and losses and victories of the bad times.” 


All in all, I feel deeply (on a soul level) excited about these powers that are coming up for me. I have laid many times beneath a full moon and known that these powers will come in stronger one day. I have been told by numerous healers and people who are psychic that my gifts will just get stronger as I heal myself and grow up. This is exciting! My intention is to use them for healing, for beauty, for joy, truth & love. 


inner work flows outward in service

“is an alchemical journey wherein one’s own inner healing and service to the world join together”

I decided to try this offered assignment this evening, as it leapt out at me.

1. Take a quiet moment to read the Heart of Shakti – even if you’ve read it before, read it again with new ears and an open spirit!  2. Choose a phrase or sentence that speaks to your heart and spirit.  3. Tell us why you’re drawn to that line, and how it lives within you (or perhaps how you’re cultivating it to live in you more fully)  4. Email your response to me!  Optional step 5: Also include an image that either harnesses that line, or just a beautiful picture of nature that you love. We’ll be putting the line you chose on that image to post on Facebook.

2. phrase above.

3. i’m drawn to this line first off because of the word alchemy. i think of alchemy as a magical process merging disparate things in order to produce something in their synergy, something that before wasn’t there or even thought of. also because i see inner healing as alchemical – to take pain, discomfort, uncertainty, chaos and from that create beauty, understanding, love, joy, faith is an alchemical act of power. it takes strength, focus, determined attention to do this. in this stage of my life, this is what i feel i am called to: to join my inner work with the service that i offer the world.


ini juggling his flower sticks ; air alchemy with body, mind, spirit, flower stick

ini juggling his flower sticks ; air alchemy with body, mind, spirit, flower stick

north carolina beauty







the mountains fill with fog in the morning. burned off by midday. the hills hold promises of beauty along the way. how to tap into that ancient well of “being on the land” hoping for some direction, hoping for a lent hand.

the island of amantani, peru & worship of the heart

while the story of the werecats of amantani and the letters to pachamama have already been written (both true, indeed), so much more can be said about standing atop the highest part of the magical world of lake titicaca.

astounded by the magical thinking still present in the consciousness of the island people of amantani & so encouraged by their connection with the natural world, with pachamama ~mama cosmos, we hiked up to the mountain peak at nearly 14,000 ft where her spherical place of worship, her temple, resides.

pachamama temple on the island of amantani, lake titicaca, peru

pachamama temple on the island of amantani, lake titicaca, peru, fields of papas the whole way

one of the main reasons i ventured to peru with ini was to ~feel~ to witness~ to embody via association~ learn~ drink in their connection with Mama, Big Mama E, Pachamama, Our Big & Giving & Wild & Uncontrollable Mamma Earth. after feeling, so accutely, the missing connection with earth back in the united states, i needed, to know about the people who i had heard were still connected to her, still worshipped her, still lived their life in relationship & in honor of her. from my experience, to say all peruvians are still in this intimate connection with pacha would be a stretch- they aren’t. many are hooked by the allure of what can be bought with money, the craze of technological advancement, the bright lights of hollywood and the quick&easier route of factory production for clothing & food. so it is.

but there are many, so many, who still treasure their connection with Pachamama!


on the island of amantani, especially, people rested in their connection with her. they have to. you see, there are no supermarkets, restaurants, 24/7 inns, wifi hookups. it is an island after all that one can reach, if the boat is going medium-slow speed, in 2-3 hours. it is an island after all, where south american tradition would have it, the original people climbed out of the water and onto the land. it is an island after all, where people will die if they do not cultivate & honor their connection with the land, seasons, and various gods & goddesses of sky and earth, lake and underworld.

as we hiked up ~3 miles to the peak of the mountain where pachamama’s temple resided, we saw field after field of cultivation on our way! much different than mountainous regions i’ve been to in the united states and canada. imagine a field of potatoes surrounded by a rock wall as you’re climbing a 14er in colorado. it just doesn’t happen in the united states. the land is too privatized for “everyday folk” to ramble about cultivating flowers, selling hats, harvesting potatoes. yet not so in peru. all along the way we saw people engaging with the land, in bunches of 2 or 3, men & women at work in the wind, at the high altitude, carving out the impossible condition as they have done for generations, ever since their ancestors climbed from the lake on that first day.

fields of papas at high elevation on the island of amantani, peru

fields of papas at high elevation on the island of amantani, peru

it was cold and very windy as we walked up the steep cobbled pathway to the site of the temples (pachatata, the masculine principle also had a mountain peak temple). we had had a series of nearly sleepless nights & the effects of being at such high altitude were wearing on us. but the grandeur, the beauty, the incredible impossibility of people thriving & making a life in such a climate nourished us. and the lake! the lake!

lake titicaca & fields of papas

lake titicaca & fields of papas

it is a place of wonder. wonder & wind. as we made it to the top, i felt a sense of supreme peace imagining all of the people who had hiked up to the top of pacha’s peak in worship, in curiosity, in pilgrimage. each year the islanders, men & women, hike up to the tops of the respective peaks (pachamama for the women & pachatata for the men) and dance down to the town below. whichever group dances there first “wins” for the year and dictates whether the growing season will be successful or not. if pachamama wins, it will be; if pachatata wins, the season will not be successful. haha. so it is.

pachamama’s temple is locked and empty as i peer into it, still imagining the dancing, the songs, the ceremony & offerings brought here for generations.

inside pachamama's temple, amantani

inside pachamama’s temple, amantani

the temple is like a bowl, a relief, a womb. here pilgrims come again to be held. to cry. to dance. to sing & offer. this is the temple where the original humans who crawled from lake titicaca come to make fires and burn~ burn in their humanness & in prayers to their Mother, the giver of all life. this is where humans who deeply believe their prayers to their Mother are heard & answered. this is the temple of our deep ancestors who crawled from the lake who crawl back into the womb to this day. as i imagined the sturdy folk of peru worshipping in this temple, my own prayers to pachamama  poured forth. i gave thanks with such a full heart for the animating force who is also my Mother, my Great Mother, in all of her provision for me and my human family.

as i overlooked the lake

lake titicaca from atop amantani

lake titicaca from atop amantani

i felt so held by the beauty, the impossible & wild & so-beyond-me-yet-i-am-a-part-of-it grandeur of the world we live in. that i too, though i am from a land-divorced culture, can still forge a relationship and reconnect with Pachamama. i prayed in thanks for this and my heart was full. and we gave thanks.

wren & ini at pachamama's temple on the isla de amantani

wren & ini at pachamama’s temple on the isla de amantani


want it to show in a poem

My aim is to encapsulate words with the effect of bringing the consciousnesses of those who read the words into similar states. Like writing as a portal, as a finger pointing, as a signpost. I have this hunch that all spirits Are hungering after this union , as like a secret underground mission of sorts most of the time, so leaving little baits out along the trail of tears.


Have you ever noticed its blue hue and the way the winds move and touch the surface,

It’s never the same

The flow of life is written on the sky for all to hear and see

Yesterday I laid by the ocean for hours, sometimes opening the slit of my lips allowing the chords in my throat to quiver and to hear a sound shiver out I wanted the sound to match the way the waves moved I was a lone human,

Yet indescribably I wanted to be all-one, I wanted to be joining the waves, I wanted no difference between us two, I wanted no difference between me and the sea

Is this oblivion,

It is union

What is it to be human, what are my true responsibilities

Each part seemingly taking a different slice of me

Can I be whole can I be wholly all-one

My tendency, as this part in the whole, is to watch, I want to witness as the world moves by in its ecstasy, in the pain and beauty

This morning I rolled around aching with the tears that wouldn’t come. I breathed for a bit and tried to orient my perspective with a vibe that’s true true true

Now I sip tea from the orient, characterized by asian symbols I couldn’t read if my life depended on it

The ocean still moving the way it never stops the girl who came to me in a dream, was it a dream, consciousness, which part of you is real real real she said to me, both in her actions and her voice, my dear, ecstatic, you know those moments when it’s like you’re having sex but you’re really doing something like look at the wind move in the trees, sex is the word we use for the union between humans, or  organisms,

But what about the sex I have when I feel a sunset, the way I can feel smelling a flower, when all time stops, it all ceases to matter ‘sides us two. To live in states such as these, wouldn’t it be fine,


Yet the girl was jumping in and out of line, she was unruly, unprincipled, unshocked, unguaranteed and she looked at me, the way she looked at me, we were devouring each other. There was nothing left. There was the brutal honesty in it that I can only write about, but I want to show you in a poem. I want to write the meaning into the words so you feel it glowing.


So you can feel your own majestic self move as the fibers in your brain latch onto the state, sneaking into the consciousness unawares. The power of speech is a transportation portal. I’ve visited plenty in my day. What is the power of writing lest it change us. Why else do we read. For more sleep? Sleep is fine,


Yet why not read to be rocked. I eat your words because in them, in the way I am moved by your eyes, I remember what cannot be said and simultaneously forget everything that can be forgotten. For a time, for times. What is it to be human. Where am I anyway and I how did I get here?


I want to prod the basics, keep in the body, write what I see



Receptive vessels

The base state of people

And where they meet

Where do we meet

As stan asks, where do I appear


And the lines are telling on my face, but I can change them at moment’s notice the way each organism goes its own way the way a tree grows up in the shade or in strong winds it is bent and curvature’s just right to fit the lens, yet moving from that space, with feet and with legs and hips that asway, I can move in any old way . I can choose and form and dance and glide, the lines are telling on my face, but I can then slide


The way a poem reaches out and meets part of you you forgot about or weren’t remembering just at that time The way this is why we seek out art, to show us something sublime, or like art can be a portal

a portal to where we want to go, where we want to live. Base state base state, living on the ground, humans, yet within this and amid it there are a thousand ways to kneel and kiss the sun,

a thousand ways to run our course to run

A thousand ways to perfect and hone what’s at home here, we’re the ones who decided Truly truly, I aint playing that game of the mass culture truly truly let’s let some ingenuity into the fore. There’s no time for sitting around keeping things the same, with all of this creativity flowing through my brain It’s time to fail and time to try again. Time to learn and time to be a kid. What’s in all of the livin’ if it’s not a time and time and time again. Time and time and time again. Time and time and time again.

I want my poems to be mind-states, mind states to wrap your head into, showing us, a hand reaching out prodding what we could be, what we have been. Portals for remembrance, portals to what we haven’t seen. The brain will take symbols and interpret them without you knowing what happened, I want my words to work themselves into your system without your brain’s permission. Though there’s something deep inside that’s asking to be listening. Asking to be listening, ask and you shall listen, avenge and you shall hear. What is it most, dear, most you want to hear. Portals to hop into, to remind you what you could do. Humans as inventors, engineers of days we haven’t seen yet. Same old same old sometimes has its benefit, yet there’s a time and a place we haven’t been to yet, and it’s there I’m headin, there I’ve been, there I come from and there I yearn for. Days I haven’t seen yet, spaces I haven’t gleaned yet, things I only imagine, imagine in my genes, it’s an imagene that exists within my head and things are never the same we just sometimes wear the old glasses in the same way.

You know how your cells change every 5 years, thoroughly completely, you’re a new being than you were back then. And the brain has the capacity to carve out new rootless into dark nooks and crannies that we haven’t been to yet. That we haven’t been to yet. Talking about spaces we haven’t seen yet.

Prod the unknown, court the undecided, uncertain, dark womb of creation that you’re drawn to. Court the cunt, penetrate and sow a million seeds, maybe one will glisten in the light of day and grow to have a day of its own. Maybe one will glisten in the light of day, you never know. Sow sow sow sow sow. We never know what will take hold, so plant while the day is young. We cannot know what we haven’t seen, but we can dream, we can dream.