a timeless poem of leaving and loving

so
in love with my wild wild self
the embrace of the earth shoots up my legs
tendrils growing through the mass of my feet

i hug myself and worlds contract within this warmth.

my own heart leaps in the face of extreme human suffering
the girl strung out in relationship with meth
the man with codine and self hatred
loud with the voices of wanting, of desperation
calling out for something to ease the pain of inner turmoil

to make everything alright. just alright. like in the hug of mama’s embrace.

my own heart leaps God’s love toward them on the path of life
until we all know that we are good enough
children of God’s own creation, sprung out of the earth
like the feet and mouths of the earth eating itself

the time is now, brother sister,

the veils all drop down. we know ourselves as spirit-earth-walkers
embedded in the mass of time, materialized like the oak leaf
in the sands of time, walking, what is the cause of our being here

one friend leaves his body,
“do not call it a suicide,” he writes in his last note
“instead, know that I have continued on my journey into the
realm of spirit; man-walking without a body.”

and, “perhaps now i will be your guardian angel.”

what is the cause of his self-killing? the recent scorpio new moon
paired with the eclipses? we are living in extreme times
yet, perhaps we are just seeing through the veil

Time becomes constant; i mean: there is no time
the only time we have is no time and the veil of the ancient temple is rent

there are no priests and priestesses besides ourselves.

and, i mean,

I am you and you are me, are we ……… and God is among us
there is no future salvation or damnation or eternal elation

it is all here in your smile, and mine. in your hug. in this embrace.

and in the dance of hearts with babies being born and friends leaving the body
i see with clear eyes the dance of human life
how short of time there is here

beneath this blue blue sky
upon this good green earth.

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

evolution and our part in it: a dream & reflection

woke up last night as i slept out in open air, grateful for another night to be sleeping there, so raw and pure beneath the stars. what has started as a temporary travel has morphed into this life style that i love … not sure if i could sleep as comfortably inside of doors anymore .. at least for now..

when i awoke, wow it’s only 11:45PM, it’s not even tomorrow yet! i was invigorated with thought streams i’d like to share from the following dream line…

“we evolved around my footsteps for a while”

They are Shooting film, there are footprints in the sand…
As an actress/explorer finds out certain truths, she says as if impersonally, “we evolved around my footsteps for a while.” We witness.

~~~~~~~~~~

Each of us is , at times, pushing the edge of our collective envelope and as we do so, in our own ways, the collective can witness us and so evolve.

There are many of us from arts and sciences, the humanities, agriculture, healing modalities, etc who are pushing the edge of this envelope. We each do our part for evolvement is not limited to any genre. Therefore we understand we work together something like a family unit, each with our individual roles that help move us along.

What we do, then, is ultimately for the collective, that our species can evolve.

That’s one facet of our mission here.

bats at dusk

bats at dusk, rio grande

bats at dusk, rio grande

The bats at dusk glide and dip
As if drunk
Yet, actually, are guided by infinitesimal
Sensors, down to a hairline fracture, on their journey to what they seek

If we didn’t know we may think bats were lost, inebriated, or, worse, incapacitated
And unable to fend for themselves
(though they go on making bat families)

Perhaps we should rethink the term “batty”
Wild kook? Or incredibly honed, following some inner radar we can’t detect?

Open the gates of perception
Allow what is “different” or “other than”
It may just be that he or she
Is simply attuned to something
You can’t see

space of mystery

No one knows why the humming birds
Fly straight up and pause in front of me
As if in recognition and then move on

Or why the coyote and I crossed paths at exactly that time

Why the people moved away from Chaco canyon or these cliffs here too
At bandelier or why the people at the gila cliffs maybe only stayed there for 50 years

People move on, drought, words of the gods, we may say, ever the beings desirous for meaning

But what of the nazca lines- how did they do that? Or the incans moving all that stone? Some mysteries we are forced to live with, their immensity stunning our minds

And as for the hummingbird
It’s a wonder
And wonder can be a final destination

It’s a gift to the mind actually
To leave the space for certain things,
The mysteries, To simply let them be