a timeless poem of leaving and loving

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

Silent Sige

here’s an in-the-works full moon poem that came out last night called,
Silent Sige, maybe try reading it aloud to yourself or a friend:

Ssshhhh Silence
Silent Sige
Silent Sige
Keep silent about the things that matter
Histories written by the captor
Ssshhhh Silent Sige
Word immemorial We heard it as Logos
Ssshhhh Silent Sige
Keep silent until only the truth remains
The conquerors language only feigns
As if
It was
In the beginning was the Word (logos)
And the word was God and the Word (logos)
Was with God
It was
As if
Ssshhhhh Silence
Silent Sige
Keep silent until we all remember
Your image, your lips with finger
Sssshhhh Silent Sige

You were there from the beginning

if you’d like to learn more about Sige, the ancient gnostic goddess, here’s a link 🙂 http://landofgoddesses.wordpress.com/2011/09/29/sige/

when loving has been forgotten, we must ~become~ again


We become the things we care for, that we invest our time in, that we love
 because love is an act of expansion, an opening, a reaching toward. When we love, whether plant, person, place, etc, we extend ourselves to that object, becoming more than our bodies. Our concepts of our self & our awareness grow, and we merge or connect with that object of love. In some ways we have now become that object, or in sensing our connection with it, we have a tendency to have more empathy (or we feel what they feel more easily) with the beloved.


But what of a culture whose bottom line necessity has been made up to be survival through greed, overwork, one-up-manship & racing one another to an ethereal finish line time and time again? The finish line of monetary gain at all costs- even over the health of ourselves & our ecosystems? Cultural champions can be holistically strong, but they can also be way out of balance: never resting, the disease of over-work constantly taking hold; raised stress levels leading to a myriad of health conditions; a perpetual valuing of doing over being. And the earth, our larger body, in the scheme of a capitalistic, racing economy where one has to grab & take before the other is able to in order to get the share, is largely leaving our literal playing field of the ground we walk on dreadfully raped & pillaged, polluted and overlooked. In a word, the playing field is disrespected. The playing field is seen as a backdrop and as the culture’s main Father God says, The earth is here to serve you, it is seen as an eternal, limitless bank account where everyone has the bank number- it’s just a matter of who gets there first.


But the earth is not a limitless, eternally giving bank account for everyone to take from. The earth is a system, a living organism, a dynamic combination of finite and infinite resources playing together much in the same way our body is a largely mysterious system of interchanges amazingly keeping a healthy equilibrium. The earth is abundant, yes! But she is also kind of like your mother, who will give you everything, but not if you disrespect her, take her diamond and gold jewelry, cut off her hair, blow smoke in her face, inject her with dangerous toxins, spill harmful substances into her mouth and other orifices, and when you say you’ll take her for a massage, lace her with life-sapping chemicals leaving her body in a state of depletion & warfare. She is abundant & giving, our Great Mother, yet we must learn to work with her instead of treating her like some backdrop wishing tree that has no relationship to us beyond what we can get from her.


So we begin again to care, to see, to behave in relationship with, to love, adore, & worship, even, this being on whom we live and breathe and have our being. Take my body broken for you, eat it in remembrance of me, the Christ says, and I wonder- Isn’t this verse more apt in relationship with our Primordial constant mother, the earth? Instead of setting our spirituality on an ethereal God of total spirit who will nourish our spirit but not our body, what if we integrate and ground our spiritual leanings? The verse can then take on a literal meaning wherein our Great Mother says to us: take my body broken for you, eat it in remembrance of me. And, if every time we eat, plant a garden, & break bread, we see it as such a spiritual, sacred sacrifice she has made for us, giving us of her literal body so that we can continue to live. In this way she is our sustenance. Which of you can live without being a part of her in this way? Yet in remembrance, connection & union with our mother – how could we treat her with such sacrilege? With such ultimate disrespect?


I don’t believe we could. But we have fostered and nurtured religions and economic and political systems where the ones who make it to the finish line, chunk of mother’s flesh in hand first, make it to the bank & so continue to contaminate and control. Wherein the god-figure is a male and tells us the earth has nothing to do with us beyond being something we subjugate and have dominion over.


Yet yesterday I planted the remaining holy basil plants into the garden and looked at the last one, a runt very small in size compared to the rest of the seedlings so far and I gave it a special place. I planted this little one in a container that I would take up to my room and I sang to the plant in worship as is the centuries old tradition in India. As I did I felt my heart & my being extend to include this plant in my circle of care. I felt myself expand in adoration to this little runt who through my love and the vitality in its DNA will grow to be big & strong, cared for and nurtured and will therefore bless me in turn with its medicine, its presence, its sweet juicy leaves. For you see, the earth & her beings are inherently giving. The Great Mother, like most of our own mothers, wants to give us every good thing. But first we must treat her with respect and see her for the gift she is. Let us sing along in adoration with this “Ave” as written by Diane Di Prima,


             you are the hills, the shape and color of mesa
you are the tent, the lodge of skins, the Hogan

the buffalo robes, the quilt, the knitted afghan

you are the cauldron and the evening star

you rise over the sea, you ride the dark

I move within you, light the evening fire

I dip my hand in you and eat your flesh

you are my mirror image and my sister

you disappear like smoke on mist hills

you lead me thru dream forest on horseback

large gypsy mother, I lean my head on your back


I am you

and I must become you

I have seen you

and I must become you

I am always you

 I must become you


For when we become something, when we extend ourselves out to see ourselves as connected or not-that-different than something, we are not apt to treat it any differently than we would want to be treated. And over time this leads to great care & a deep, abiding cherishing.

(i am, will get) strong (i think, i know)

I will get strong, I think, walking up all these hills all the time carrying water.
Everywhere I want to go there is a hill to go up or down, strengthening calves, honing balance and gaining skill dodging poison ivy, stepping on rock instead of slippery mud streaked path.
I am getting strong, I think, as I lift chicken after chicken in and out of the chicken tractor; slinging compost; creating garden bed; again, carrying water.
I will get stronger, I know, walking up and down these hills all the time carrying water.