Remind me of your face

Morning, here. Filled with the dreams of the past night. I awake feeling refreshed, excited. A deep excitement stirs within, laced with gratitude.

I feel it pulsing, throbbing like an underground heartbeat. Like a river beneath the surface of the earth bursting up through artesian wells, spouting out of limestone springs. It manifests through the work of my hand as dreams taken flight, birthing foundations.

My gratitude is based on knowing the opposite of this and in the sheer pleasure of being here. Like many things one has waited for, there is often a path building up to the attainment that makes that final meeting of what was once only hoped for, dreamed of simply put, Sweet.

It is sweet to be here, like a piece of dark chocolate turned in the mouth, tasted with all sides of the tongue, the thick black complexity met with quiet delight.

I remember nights on the road close to midnight as i or Ini and I searched for a place to rest our heads, away from the road, from traffic, from the noise, urgency and often violence of a culture set apart from the rhythms of nature. Oh so many nights!!!

And as we returned from a somewhat hectic trip to town yesterday, for a meeting and grocery run, I was greeted by the soft, effervescent illumination of MoonLight filling the forest corridors, making this a new territory for me. Revealing further the nurturance of this place. How it is beginning, more and more, to be Home. A place of rest, joy, sustenance. Yes, of work, too, and of struggle. Yet overwhelmingly a nest, a comfort. My type of woodland comfort.

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moon poem…

And then the moon rose over the canyon rim
It was like a silver sliver of pear floating there
reclining in the cleft where two ridges converge
Its rays extending and contracting into the sleep of my midnight eyes each time I blinked

special place, created space, wild magic of nature~~

i was standing there on the mound as the sun set. an orange glow sprinkled through the leaves onto my shoulders, illuminating the place i was standing. i looked down at the ground and saw the sea shells i put there. it is now a sacred place, full of woman’s wisdom, full moon magic, special intention. it was a place i have released my soul and i feel its magic as i stand there.

the wild oregano, thyme, wild mint.. none of it can be contained here in the suburbs. these are wild ancient herbs that grow up from the earth after tapping roots down, gently, firmly, branching beneath the surface of the earth. this is now a magical space. i have created a magical space and from that initial act of creation, it creates itself again and again. the echinacea, soft pink petals, spiky brown centers; medicine root taps beneath. the wild columbine, standing tall, spread branches with seed carriers fronding out. the wood sorrel, the strawberry, the daisy, sweet sweet flowers of life. all contained here on the hill with sacred transported rock and stone, sea shell fragment and full piece.

this is a woman’s space, this is a healing place. this is a created place, now with a wild face.