That other night in Las Vegas

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When they started playing ‘Thank god I’m American where at least I know I’m free,’ I knew then that we were in a mind-control zone. Las Vegas is a place of entrancement and of illusion. My third eye glowed and pressed the entire time- I wasn’t going to be fooled or sucked in.

All this year my lips have refrained from alcohol- a message I received while with ayahuasca bid me to abstain for the year. It’s the first year since my early 20s I’ve not had anything to drink. On Bourbon St in New Orleans, the closest thing I’ve witnessed to Las Vegas, I tried all of the ‘drinks to have’ and, of course, wound up incredibly drunk in a near-stranger’s bed.

Being very sensitive, alcohol, paradoxically, was my way of coping with strong & base energies, cigarette smoke and ‘heavy’ environments. It gave me a kick of unconsciousness that I would’ve otherwise not had, and probably wouldn’t’ve been able to endure nor had the desire to engage in many of the social climes I’ve dipped in.

Yet tonight, and all this year, I’ve been thankful for this sobriety. My warrior self needs it as I connect dots and see all that I can see. We didn’t spend any money on the strip, save $2 for parking. We were driving through the area on our way to California from Arizona and thought, Hey, let’s check it out (in a “keep your enemies closer” line of thinking– and from curiosity). We tried the free slots on Freemont St. Ini got 2/3 on all three we tried. A man tried to rope us into some promo deal. We walked on.

Quickly I started to feel sick in the unnatural lighting, smoke and glaring emptiness. In an earlier moment I might’ve grabbed some booze to acclimate, so that I could actually be there/ stand the environment. Yet we walked on, observing all of the displays.

Only two people, out of hundreds, were dancing and singing as if they had won something significant. They were two older republican-looking men wearing near-matching Polos, skipping, arms around each other. Everyone else was wrapped up zombie-like staring at some half-naked dancing person, street display, or glued into the machines.

I knew we were in a mind-control area when that song started playing. Everyone stopped moving and many took their phones/cameras out and started videotaping the ceiling which became a uniform image of an American flag with scrolling military faces and fighter jets. Then that song came on. All noises collaborated with this one song. Every disparate energy became united beneath the American Flag. Drunk people started singing and tearing up. We were surrounded by patriots and, though previously they were like hotels flashing vacancy signs, they all suddenly woke up and started marching like wind-up toy soldiers. It felt like a moment at church when the people are moved by something that strikes you as preposterous. Yet everyone was playing along, entranced. That’s when I saw the thread connecting this reptilian lineage. Money, War, Oil, bright flashings lights (media) and the songs and symbols (flag) that tie it all together.

I learned that song in 5th grade. We sang it, all of the grades in unison, at our end of the year performance at Amy Beverland in middle-Indiana. It probably felt so good at the time, as we basically unconsciously learned this song, to all sing together, ages 6-10. The attempt at programming, you see, has passed by all of our gazes. It’s especially strong with the bright lights, naked dancers, cheap booze and possibility of winning thousands of dollars, but it’s as subtle as a McDonalds on every corner and the media craze of the ‘War on Terrorism.’ The Patriarchs from our country are terrorists enough; they ought to call war with themselves and leave our land and people alone.

As we drive away from the bright lights into the solitude and darkness of death valley, the moon rests in front of us. Yellow timeless crescent, she will far outlast these bright shining lights. Our culture is like a pigmy elephant riding the back of a large whale in the middle of the ocean the size of three worlds. It doesn’t make any sense and it is so very small in comparison… With time & galaxies firing and off setting.

Ayahuasca gave me this message, too, as we laughed into the night. We all are so small! Generations! Ha! It’s like the skin off of that Great Serpents back. Shed and shed and shed. We are like a flicker in comparison of the passing sands of time.

It’s good for me to remember this, to reflect with the moon as she sits there cradled in the sky and I feel the dark close in around me, the pressing dark of the cold desert night. In the reptilian game of bright flashing lights, the built up system of money, all of that illusion of external gain, it is good to feel the cold, powerful desert press close, womblike, as we ride into the night and I remember what endures as the stars shine overhead. Perhaps tomorrow we will be mesmerized and directed by our solar system’s brightest flashing light, our sun and further humbled by the heat. We are out of Las Vegas into Death Valley, after all, and that precludes a whole different game of survival.

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the Great Forgetting & Remembering

Once upon a time, the earth was a part of everything on it. Connection with the earth was acknowledged in song & dance, in ceremony & creed. The earth was known as The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth. Before building homes or starting new businesses, humans would have intense rituals embracing their need to have the protection & support of Mother Earth- for without her blessing, nothing would flourish.

Mother Earth had many songs in these times. There were songs for harvesting. Songs for planting. Songs for sadness & grief. Songs for love. Songs of patience & songs of courting. There were songs for birth & songs of death. And Mother Earth was included in all of these songs. There was always weeping & laughter in the land, but everyone knew they were held by Mother Earth and so, whether stupefied with sadness or howling with joy, they each found comfort in her strong embrace.

Young men, Old women, new babies, and everyone in between honored Mother Earth. It wasn’t anyone’s job to speak for her, to mention her or to honor her; Each and every member of the land, from birth until death, spoke with adoration and humility in her heart about The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth. For it was truly apparent that everything came from her hand and went back to her body. This was The Great Cycle and everyone knew themselves as inextricably a part of it.

There were the traders, the mothers, the wisdom carriers, the artisans, the troubadours, the homeless, the farmers, and many more facets of the society which played roles in its function and all of these thanked & honored Mother Earth. Not one, except maybe the farmers & the wisdom carriers, had a greater or more intimate esteem for Mother Earth, for each of them, from the day they were born until the day they died, drank from her streams, ate the bounty from her lap, felt her wind in their face, and climbed all over her body dancing, limping, crawling, singing, weeping, lauding. Each of them knew themselves inextricably a part of her Presence. And this is the way it always was.

This was the way it always was, until it was slowly this way no more. It’s hard to say when the shift happened, when the earth stopped being a part of everything on it. The deer and wind, streams and tree frogs, lightening and spiders certainly remained with the earth in it, but something started to happen to the minds of the humans. Slowly, over time & person by person to family by family to tribe by tribe, the humans started to count the things of the earth, which before they had seen as a gift to them, as their right. And they forgot to give thanks & honor Mother Earth. Slowly the men, because they were physically stronger & in fear of the women’s power & sexuality (which are often so closely intertwined), started to treat their wives & daughters, mothers & grandmothers as if it was their right to lord over them, as if the women were there to serve them. And they enforced this through violence, violation & punishment.

Slowly, slowly people started to forget that the earth was a part of them; that they were a part of the earth and that they were all equals. Tribes started to see themselves as inherently different; as if from a different place, as if different species. People no longer saw themselves as siblings of one human family, no matter the color of their skin. Instead, certain skin colors were prized over others & the dominating group would make the “others” subservient to them through laws, violation, violence and punishment. Slowly, slowly as the human mind forgot what the human body & heart had always known, humans no longer thought of one another as kin, but as enemies conquesting for resources.

What was once a gift to give thanks to Mother Earth for, like precious stones & jewels from the earth or conch shells, feathers, fine bone & wood pieces, became objects of a hoarding contest. Whoever can take the most of these things, becomes the most powerful and therefore has the ability to control the others. Slowly, slowly people forgot that it wasn’t always this way – the faint murmurings of the heart that not only was another way possible, but it was the way things used to be: a life of connection, abundance, togetherness, sharing & caring, gratitude and respect for one another & Mother Earth- this whisper of heart & body became nearly unbelievable. This murmur became something the dominating controllers scoffed at.

And so, though children born from the heart of the earth & from the stars came with these ancient secrets on their lips, the dominating controllers silenced & shamed them and kept telling the story of greed, one-upmanship, exploitation, and competition. They controlled the media sources where everyone got their information & told stories of fear & of war. Technology & machines took the place of human contact and while they sped up The Progress, thousands of species became extinct, waters & air became dangerously polluted, soil was poisoned & degraded, food started to be a specialized lab experiment and was no longer the thing of every backyard & wars over Mother Earth’s resources became commonplace. Children’s voices were not heard & a child was very fortunate if they were able to remember some of the whispers about being a Child of The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth. At night, masses of humans would feel great tremors of sadness from within & so alcohol, cigarettes, heroin, meth, abuse & violence were the strong distractors away from their feelings of sadness, which were really cries of remembrance from their heart, from their bones, which remembered that they were a part of Mother Earth.

For Mother Earth never stopped crying out to all that was a part of her, to everything that was on her, eating from her body & drinking from her veins the streams. She spoke through plants, through dreams, through children & to the human’s minds in the evenings as another sun set, as this was a time when the people, finished with their labor of the day, were particularly vulnerable for remembering as the veil was thin between the imagination & the heart.

And The Great Mother From Whom All Things Flow Forth has gotten through to many of her children, which is how I am writing this story at all. She has whispered to me through my blood & bones which are fueled by her body, by her vegetables & animal flesh, through her sporiforous mushrooms & her seaweed, and her water and berries– through all of these things which fuel my body, her body is able to speak to me through my cells. She reminds me that this is the way forward, in remembering what once was and still is, yet has been forgotten – in remembering this connection with our Mother Earth so much that one day I remember it into existing again.

 

a creative re-telling of our origin, kind-of inspired by daily post.

lost & found of the soul: finding true center

thanks to this daily post for the prompt!

 

lost & found

sometimes when things are lost, it allows us to more easily find something else. sometimes when i lose my fear and aversion to discomfort, i find my true strength. sometimes i lose my knack for “people-pleasing” and i am more able to find my true voice and move from my true center, unafraid of how others perceive me or my life. sometimes when i lose something, i am not lost at all, but rather am more found, by myself. sometimes when i lose friends or we drift away, it is not because i have done something, but because i am moving closer to my self, my real purpose and the relationship no longer fits into my life. sometimes in my commitment to truth, i must withstand loss. sometimes it can hurt to lose things, but what i find when they are gone is greater than the loss.

sometimes i must lose in order to find.

this teaches that loss, too, can be a gift.

everyday magic of the herbs on the mound

today i cut lotsa stalks of oregano in my parent’s backyard. a few years ago when i was having a depressed time in my life, i had taken pieces of that oregano (& mint & thyme) over to another section of the backyard, one outside of the garden, called “the mound”. it’s called “the mound” cuz it’s a humped section with a few blank spaces on it, but filled with big lumbering pines. i also found an iron arch with two seats built into it on craigslist for about $20, if i remember correctly. i sanded that arch & spray painted it red. my mom was doing a master gardening course at the time & was learning how to start native plants & flowers from seed. she brought home some columbine & other flowers i can’t remember. today that’s where i harvested those herbs, enough for four large bundles worth, that i now am drying & will take with me, dehydrated, to sprinkle into soups & grains & vegetables. a little sprinkling of herbs is a great addition to a healthy diet. they add flavor & are a great source of nutrients // fresh or dried.

a few days ago, on father’s day, we also took a family picture on that mound which is wild with the yellow flowers of columbine, the sweet light purple shoots of thyme, the high vibrant stalks of oregano, yarrow my mom transplanted, mint, wood sorrel, wild strawberries. it’s a bright area in the backyard &, though i started it in a period of depression, it brings abundant fruits to many lives now (plus being a great place to take pictures!).

as i cut the herbs, i gave thanks for their simple beauty. many times i pass over common herbs, simply identifying them in my head & not seeing them for the wonderful, “everyday” blessings that they are. juliette de bairacli levy aka juliette of the herbs is a wonderful teacher in my life for living close with the earth, living simply & being in connection with the powerful “everyday” properties of herbs. sometimes life can get so “in my head” or “fast-paced” that i gloss over the simple gifts of herbs and artistic acts done even in times of depression, but this act of gathering & drying herbs today has reminded me of the ongoing nature of life, that even if our mood isn’t the best we can still create acts of beauty that can give & give to ourselves & others for years to come.

joanna macy & the shambhala warrior prophesy

i found one of joanna macy’s interconnected co-arising buddhism books when i was in college. tucked away at odd hours throughout the day, i drank deep at her studies and followed her into the deep ecology movement. i’ve cared deeply for my larger body, the earth, for many years. still learning how to interface that care with my life, with life. this video today is a beautiful token from joanna:

in the land of home: two graces

Tonight Ini & I had a heart council. New Moon in Taurus. Time of earthy, grounded, materialistic beginnings. We follow in the tradition we learned at OUR ecovillage by a teacher from the Ojai Foundation. It opens us up, lets more mystery into our conscious awareness, usually heals & clarifies. Tonight we did it in the bath. Bright blue skies transform after the rain. The grass is bright green. The sun sets casting a mysterious hue.

We hold a talking piece in our hands throughout the council. It signifies, this is my turn to talk. Tonight we used a big chunk of citrine. Inherent in heart council is speaking from the heart as well as not planning what you’re going to say before the talking piece comes to you. This way container truths are able to rise organically, informed from one person to the next. And how easy is it to truly listen when we know what we are going to say? In this way, council encourages the inherent value of each person’s wisdom in the moment. As I said, magical, simple & profound truths can come from this.

 

read the rest here at rainbowbridgetotheheart.com.

Antennas

important

wren

25 years, 1000 years

Like a lightening rod,
An antenna for the divine energies
Ancient beauty, powerful channel
Being around you
I remember, I see
What it is I am meant to be

In cutting down the trees, humans have done much more than clear the land. We have cut down our healing centers, we have tempered our natural connection with the divine. Hugging her for 5 minutes of precious solitude, tears come and deep knowing release, joy, plenitude, graceful thanks. May we remember, Mother, these things which are full of health and goodness! And protect them!

~largest Sitka Spruce in the world

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