photojourney A~gust twothousandfifteen *Ozarks

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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.

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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.

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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!).

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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.

home

ini wiht cherimoya

“Never make your home a place. Make a home for yourself inside your own head. You’ll find what you need to furnish it – memory, friends you can trust, love of learning, and other such things. That way it will go with you wherever you journey.” ~ Tad Williams

storms & the witches who love them

For the past few days I have awoken to the thickest, wettest air imaginable. Usually air is a thing that can go unnoticed – unless it is moving irregularly fast, if it smells, or if it is very, very wet.

The days have started out with wet & thick air. I walk outside & my hair surprisingly perks up with sweet little curls I’ve never had before falling out of my braid, cradling my face. My skin feels damp & sticky, even when I’m not moving around a lot. And I remember what droplets of sweat are like – behind the knees, between my breasts, in the inside of my elbow. When I play tennis, the sweat from my body joins the sweat in the air & I feel like I am swimming. I am a fish hitting a ball with my fins aggressively across a net. Somehow the ball maintains its sense of gravity in all of this water.

But the afternoons, and they have been all the same as well, these are my favorite. For in the afternoons, the sky turns from grayish light blue dotted with translucent puffy clouds to a dark churning pot of swirling grey & black. The air loses some of its water & starts to move quickly making a lot of noise in the trees. Clouds are moving fast now and everything starts to feel eery, as if preparing for something grand & monumental.

Suddenly the sky cracks. Streams of light go racing through the sky, at times whipping the earth below. Winds are picking up & rains start to pelt the earth. The air is moving very fast around me now and the sky is a spiraling mess. This is a summer storm and it is one of my favorite types of weather.

When the winds pick up, trees make such peculiarly satisfying sounds as it moves through their leaves. As light pours forth sprinkling the earth & the sky drops in chunks of wetness, clouds applaud in claps & stomps. When I am in the midst of a storm, I feel complete & happy, never afraid. If I was longing before the storm, I am quickly sated, like a baby at the tit. My senses dance around as they take it all in. I am in wonder & awe at the power unleashed within moments playing in fields as light drips into trees & booms and rumbles shake the ground I stand on. I feel so connected in these moments. My affinity for storms is oftentimes greater than for times of calm. Perhaps I am akin to a witch of old, tying knots in rope or in my hair to influence their coming & going.

Storms comfort me; through the loss of control, the wild display of power, I feel at safe & at home.

the turtle in my pocket. less than an ounce of home.

You’re embarking on a yearlong round-the-world adventure, and can take only one small object with you to remind you of home. What do you bring along for the trip?

I have been walking for months. I am like the peace pilgrim, who only wears her long smock with the words peace pilgrim written on the back. i have no food, no water, no water carrier & no bed stuff. i rely on the generosity of others for my food, my water, my bed. i am like a wandering monk or a spirit wafting in the wind. i have nothing but my body, my smile, my well-wishes.

ok, that is a lie. i do have something beyond my cassock. it is a small remnant of a treasure that reminds me of home, of the place that is the dearest to my heart. it is my ounce of home.

when i was in college, i met a person who was to change my life forever. if you’ve read or watched nausicaa of the valley of the wind– he was master yupa to my nausicaa. he touched my heart. forever. he is my spiritual father, my friend, a soul-mate. i am his turtle daughter.

and this is the secret to the treasure in my pocket, the only belonging i take with me as i journey. it is a small turtle the size of a thumb nail that he had given me one summer as we stood in his driveway. when i finger it as i walk or when i put it out on my altar each morning as i pray for the day, i remember this wonderful soul whom i share so much love with. i feel love fill my heart in its soft rosy billowing & i give thanks for the magic between humans. i give thanks, for though we are far apart, i feel as though we are together. i feel like i am home.

story thanks to this dailypost prompt

 

a fresh wind moves in: letting go of the angst

Today as i walked the loop by my parent’s house it was palpably a different experience for me. We moved into this house from a fish-bowl neighborhood, where everyone is competing with each other & can literally see into each other’s homes to know what they’re competing on. One of my friends growing up – her dad was a basketball star on our state’s NBA team & i used to play in the lake, others were my wild soccer team members (lots of stories to share about that!), and others were children with lame mothers who didn’t enjoy it when i would invite their daughters to play in the ice with me- so what if our feet got caught as we tromped around the icy stream beds? we were on an adventure! but i digress..

We moved here and it was spacious & surrounded by farm fields and the occasional farm house (which pretty soon got torn down as little box neighborhoods, as i call them, were popping up in their place). Good bye corn & soybeans, Hello plastic siding & same-looking boxes with same landscaping for people to live in! Everyone gets their little mortgaged square of bland, colorless earth around here. At the time, i was a very active young one – playing sports in every season, hanging out with friends, making out with my boyfriends in the basement. It was a time i look back on as being so outwardly-focused. But sometimes in my room, especially at night, i would feel this hungering ache. I would write poetry to my boyfriends or write in my journal to God. I read Edna St Vincent Millay. I wondered what it would be like to live an artist’s life and i hungered. It was a hungering ache i didn’t understand & it made me feel very very alone & misunderstood. While on the outside, perhaps everyone would’ve said, well, that girl had such a great, well-liked high school situation – and, in so many ways they were right – but there was so much uncharted territory, so much of myself, left unaddressed and, well, neglected. The plastic siding & homogeneity only made it worse.

They tore down the farmhouse i could see from my bedroom window – and the one across the street too, where my sister & i would dare one another to sneak into the old, falling-apart, creaky barn & where i got the then-wild asparagus & transplanted it into the garden. The neighborhood seemed to magnify this ache that i had. The homogeneity was excruciatingly painful. I saw it as a place with no character. Without soul. Filled with slaves disguised as people who take out mortgages & listen to everything the local news says. A place where people live in fear & do not think for themselves.

My inner life was relatively untapped while in high school. My inner learnings were to unleash themselves/i was to open up a few years later as i faced certain struggles like death, injury, desire & ways of life different than the ones i’d known growing up. Since this homogenous neighborhood experience & many seekings of character, art, ingenuity, individuality & ram-shackledness later, i am pleasantly surprised today as i go on an evening walk and feel peace as i look around at the surroundings, the plastic siding, the boxes, the manicured lawns.

Suddenly, my judgment or perspective of the place was not holding me back from enjoying my little moment in nature, my walk on the concrete loop in the subdivision’s flood plane turned into nature trail (i’m sure you’ve seen one of these places – a little forest, prairie, wetland nook in an area unbuildable for homes within a subdivision). The prevalence of non-native, “invasive” species didn’t bother me. The cotton woods were beautiful, as were the red-breasted black birds and the shrubby legumes were so prevalent & taking back that landscape, fixing nitrogen into it, so well! The sky had just rained & big grey billowing clouds were still turning above me. I felt like a witch as i harmonized with my surroundings, taking step by step, recollecting & embodying the walking meditation i had taken part in the week before at the prison meditation. Perhaps it was seeing some of the horrible natural devastation in Peru just a few months prior that gave me this perspective. The clear-cutting of the amazingly diverse amazonian rainforests into vast deserted land. The pollution near rivers & in cities. Perhaps it was this perspective which more easily allowed me to “let-go” of my previous hold on hating & judging & disdaining this young adult habitat of mine. Perhaps there’s something in this week’s astrology (I think so), which eased this transition for me. Or perhaps, this wound has finally dislodged in a deeper way within me & i have found peace here from within my earlier surroundings which beckoned so much pain, angst & aching. So many questions. So many existential crises.

And today on the walk, they felt transcendentally resolved. I felt finished with them. I was there, in this same place i have been so many times before, in so many moods and i felt … peace. simply put … peace. And that release brought happiness and gratitude.

spirit connection: the place

me as human is an energy being, a creature with 2 legs & 2 arms. i can only do so much, really. me as a human only has so much capacity, yet through this capacity i can hold the space for something so much greater than myself. this is what i feel called to do.

i want to hold space for a space to flow through me. i want to hold the fort down of a place where the following can be found:

  • spaciousness: to feel spirit & breathe deep
  • ancient: reflecting deep cyclical forces from which we all originate; not for quick profit, not for quick anything
  • mater: deep presence of connection with mama earth
  • meeting place: where people can congregate & grow
  • home & hearth: feeling of warmth, coziness
  • wilderness: large pieces of wild land (undisturbed by humans)
  • purity: clean air & protection from pollution
  • art: expression, vision, creativity, innovation
  • secret nooks
  • streams: fresh, clean, flowing water
  • mystery room
  • abundance: food forests, alignment with earth’s ways, permaculture gardens

this place reflects spirit connection. i am just a human with 4 limbs, a brain, a pumping heart. yet i could hold the space for infinite forces to move through me. may this space have the chance to grow through me and others. give me the courage to be embodied and hold the space for this. amen.

LIVING OUTSIDE OF THE BOX

Originally posted on my new website: http://www.rainbowbridgetotheheart.com ~

What does it mean to live Outside of the Box? I mean, literally Outside of the Box… Imagine with me Now …

As humans we have so many possibilities as far as what we create while we are here. Creations come in all shapes & sizes and fit all manner of necessities and desires in lifetimes. There is a creation niche for every life style. The possibilities are truly endless. As it is said, imagination’s the limit.

One thing dear to me is house-making. When I think of “house”, images flow into my mind of all the houses I have seen. There is the house style I grew up around and in: It is boxed and has certain rooms that fill criteria of what a house “is”. There is the kitchen, the sitting room, the living room, the library, the basement, the bedrooms and extra bedrooms, etc. All of these rooms have “feels” to them that dictate what can happen in the room. The sitting room is nice and basically untouched- never put your feet on the couch. The living room has a TV in it, a fire place, we probably eat in there occasionally and put our feet up on the couch whenever we want. The kitchen is, naturally, where the cooking and food storage & prep happens, people congregate and eat in here. Homeowners have guest bedrooms, but usually don’t sleep in them (unless there is a transition in the relationship or someone needs some space or is sick) as they are reserved for guests who come. Etc, the list of “the way things are” goes on. But who makes these rules & why is this what we think of when we conjure the idea of “house”?

On my travels in life, I saw many other versions of “house”: natural cob homes seriously and playfully made of mud, clay, sand, straw and wood, homes that have round walls, homes that are one room with kitchen merging into sitting nook for breakfast merging into a “live TV” of the chicken coop. I have lived in canvas yurts and places without electricity that have cob walls with heart-shaped reliefs for candles. Homes half-finished with manual water-pumps and a swirling cob staircase. I have stayed in mud shacks with dirt floors where the kitchen is its own building detached from the house so that the house doesn’t burn down in case of a kitchen fire. “House” when viewed from this bigger perspective, conjures up a completely different set of images.

In my dream last night, I was invited to live in a house near a college campus in someone’s backyard. It was an old and infamous house that was very thin and long with triangular and rectangular contours. I felt excited to live in this house, even though it wasn’t very practical and its thinness felt a little cramped in certain parts. I felt excited because it was different and every time I was in it, along with feeling a little impractical-ness, I remembered magic. I felt different and this feeling allowed, even encouraged, me to think outside of the box. I felt like I was in a slightly magical house, because it was of a different shape and had its own character in its unique building style. Being in the house reminded me of the magical, literally “out-of-the-box” realities of life. I was no longer “boxed-in” & being in a place that resonated with that thought allowed me to live within my own limitless and unboxed imagination more easily.

I believe it is as simple as this: We imagine a “house” and there is the standard box which comes to mind. But Why? Why is a house a square thing with so many typical rooms with typical feelings? What if stepping out of the box with something so seemingly simple as what kind of house we live in is actually able to propel us individually and ultimately collectively into “living outside of the box” in our daily lives? Imagining What could be instead of living within the mind-set (or set-mind) of What already is and therefore What will continue to be? There is a great need & opportunity Today to create from our imaginations. Building codes can shift over time and as they do nothing is limiting us save our own actually limitless imaginations and beliefs around What is possible….