Gifts of the Desert

I feel quite certain Edward Abbey said something moving and brilliant about the gifts the desert freely gives; perhaps something like

how the sun and carrion scour our bones exposing a story our ivory is there to tell,

or maybe

the lavender hued shadows at dusk tempt us to look with the vision of owl, bat or mischievous coyote into the mystery where no sun's light casts our story into obvious relief. 

I invite you to seek out your favorite quote about these gifts(or write your own) and insert it here in your thoughts...(feel free to share if you are so inclined) for only you know exactly what mood and gift this moment asks to share with you.

this morning as i cleaned through a stack of papers in my room that clamor from somewhere deep within their pile "herein lies all the wisdom, all the answers, don't cast us away", but i'm never quite sure what to do with--i found the following birthday gift emerging to be heard and read and held, and it felt the perfect way to honor the turning of the season from birthday to autumn, from introspection to pruning and preparing for hibernation whence seeds germinated begin their coiling stretch in DNA code long since buried that ignites us all--and so i share it with you in joyful celebration of its expression.

from tessa at my birthday

Desert sun, radiant watch

the eye amidst the grass.

Stretching forth, the gnarled branch.

It holds the last rich seed.

An ancient crane, its song a sacred melody to the woman's bone.

The shadow of the red cliffs cradles,

ever holding, ever strength.

And high above, 

sent from the wind, 

a silhouette that calls you round.

A message from yourself.

You've seen its face and feel the stone.

The Place.

--in reaction,
a heart filled with tearful blessedness,
hearing the crane's cry, seeing the woman's bone
cradled deeply in red cliff's shadow
a message from self--this shadow stalks me,
warrior, shaman, sage
silhouette ever with me, silently willing and waiting to be heard
i am blessed and grateful indeed.

August: an INNER course of action

The warmth of the sun, the composting time for the earth, planting deep roots and ridding ourselves of weeds that spring up unbidden...time to allow thoughts and patterns that no longer serve to be turned under, let the filter of Mother Earth and Sister Moon offer the gift of mulching, ebb and flow, seasonal shift.

Time for a personal inner search this month. I will be in Brazil for the month of August--what better place to observe and swim deep in the RIVER and invite a shift in current. This is a challenge, an urge from within, to meet my soul in the deep underworld of its growth and emerge into the sun with the piece of spirit that is calling to be heard.

Poetry Mondays--The Song of the Wandering Aengus

Following whimsy and subject to spontaneity like i am--i declare today  "POETRY MONDAY".  this yeats poem keeps turning up like shiny new dime to be reconsidered and examined. with gaze intrigued, i discover the power of a celtic and druidic return to mystic images unfolding and revealing itself to me in these words.  funny how we experience things on one level, and they become brand new when our eyes are opened on a new level of awareness.
i am grateful for a conscious look at all the symbols that are offering their wisdom to those who seek.


what images are revealed to you?

The Song of Wandering Aengus
By William Butler Yeats

I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.

When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire aflame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.

Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.

To Consider: Love and its thousand transformations, and the pursuit of the Beloved, that holy one who calls me by my name. Over and over again.

i ask you, is this the eye of God?

i'm not quite sitting on the dock of the bay, but the view from where i am atop the trees of the amazon is not one to scoff at. from my perch in the trees it would seem i am just another creature of the jungle...and my lovely friend (her partner was just a tad bit more shy) appears to be questioning me as much as i am questioning her. do you think perhaps she thinks me god as well? in her world that girl with the crazy, frizzy (thank you rain forest humidity) hair could be the strangest thing she has ever seen and just might be considered some kind of celestial visitation. (since i have added a little more blond to my hair of late, everyone thinks me a tad bit heavenly)

my question really is, why isn't that bright eyed, alert and a little bit cunning bird in front of me the god i am looking for? and perhaps she is...i really couldn't ask to be placed more squarely in the heartbeat of the world or perhaps the cosmos than where i am sitting right now. i am breathing deeply, opening heart and eyes...from this stance layers peel away and i feel stripped bare and vulnerable and like it that way

Desert Child

This one isn't by me, it was written for me this year by a friend on my B-day. it's sort of been appearing in my dreams lately, and i find that i'm craving another dream in the desert. With the full moon upon me, joined by the lunar eclipse, i am eager for the new energy this dreams carries with it. Nice how a moment taken by another to really see just a little part of me imparts so much meaning. i am as full as the moon...

Your home, you’re home

In the valleys carved by water and wind,

These dry bowls where all bones show

Veins flow and rush to the Great,

Where hewn wheels carved ruts in salt.

From cities of sins to one of saints

To dwellings abandoned save for Fremont ghosts

And Anasazi whispers

You find shelter in the desert

Solace in exposure.

Your skin sparkles of mica, cheeks of quartz

Hair twisting ‘round like gold Mohave’s devils

Heart found huge at a narrow’s end—a

Wide, sun-beating valley of fire.

Hardened like a those of walk-a-bout’s child,

Feet that have led and sometimes followed.

Clear like a nighthawk

Clever like the crow

Laughing eyes open to a long, long path

To depths back and beyond.

In the gorge where the wren’s call clings

Down the cliffs like water,

Where coyote hitch rides on Highway 6,

Your home, you're home,

Desert Child

Pamela Ostermiller 09/12/07

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Now playing: Ray LaMontagne - Be Here Now

via FoxyTunes

Now would you teach that to your children?

I have this line of inquiry running in my head that seems to reappear with some frequency. i really wonder about the shit we teach our kids and how aware we are of what we want to pass on to the next generation. sometimes my reason for the question is so obvious like "why in the hell is that child dressed to 'kill' at 6 months old, killing doesn't really match with her darling multi-layered pink bow, nor the bubbles that she continues to blow?" but we can't help it can we, the outfit was a gift, it was too precious to pass up, it's funner than playing with dolls...
or "is it really possible that mom and dad are not aware how disrespectful and downright rude their kid is? if he pulls my hair one more time over the back of this booth, i'm going to pull his back"
and "if the boy just wet his pants as you were trying to force him to climb onto the pony's back, is there a chance he might not want a ponyride today? just wondering"
but much more that these painfully obvious things we as adults seem justified putting our kids through because "we had to learn it as a kid and so should they", i am questioning the behavior of adults and wondering just what the lesson was their parents were trying to teach them, and what the lesson was the kid took on into adulthood?
and what secret did this mom whisper to her precious cargo--to make him so eager to make his entrance into the world?(can i hear it next...)
mostly these are not extreme, terrible or obvious things--not things that parents may even be aware that they are passing on to their kids, it is really more like defense mechanisms, ways of rationalizing behavior or lack of integrity in choices--or outright fears that translate into dicey moments in all of our lives.
so i get it, there is no instruction manual to life, raising kids or being perfect. we are all just really doing our best, but i really do always wonder why we humans tend to shoot ourselves in the foot quite so often.
here's my point, at what place in human history did we learn to believe in our fears, choose life the hard way, let go of our inner guidance system--and then turn around and teach that to our kids as "that's just the way life is!"? i call total bullshit on this one--i really want to expose this practice for the bully that it is, the snidely local priest peering over half-glasses shushing the joyous children of the world, the bitter maiden aunt dried up from lack of proper care and feeding and insisting that those children be seen and not heard, the establishment or the "been there, done that" crowd...
rather why don't we teach our kids and ourselves that life is a tremendous gift, truly a puddle-luscious experience whose marrow we should spend our entire lives attempting to suck dry? this is my personal philosophy; there are unseen, unproven, whispered possibilities that circle our psyches all the time that i would love to hear trumpeted from the rooftops...life is so easy, you have an amazing power and gift and can create whatever wondrous dreams you conjure up, even when serious shit hits the oscillating fan it's because you asked to learn some stuff in this life--that doesn't mean it's not worth living--it means you were powerful enough to get what you asked for...so pay attention to those questions, be clear on your intentions, view life with the joy and delight that it was giftwrapped to be.
(photo credits tim gibbons, photog and filmmaker extraordinaire)
Notice this little chica? utterly fearless, has she ever learned the strange lessons our western society tries to put on us? i think not!!! i embrace this stance to open and let the wonderment in.
i was really writing this in response to a few fears i noticed in others this week, but really it's my own best advice(some showed up to be great mirrors for me) and i'll be the first one to step forward for a little self-mothering.
Hear that lama? puddle-luscious!!!! so let the marrow sucking begin!!!
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Now playing: Adam Green - Jessica
via FoxyTunes

desert dreaming

Our band of night weary travelers sits gathered by the fire in the warming morning light while a few of the group, unwilling to relinquish the powerful hold night’s vision still imbues, cling tightly to their rumpled sleeping bags. in sacred silence we each welcome the warmth and power of sun and fire into our own days.

what a strange sense of community, with no shared words--only shared space, each one taking on a task as the need arises, start the fire, make the coffee, lay out the breakfast food—until, finally the silence is broken and our dreams intertwine for the day.

the drum beats out the rhythm--arise, awake, come together--bring your spirit and attention to this place, this moment. Last night on the mesa i welcomed in the spirit of the dream for myself in ritual with tobacco, smudge and spirit; the clear chill in the air held at bay by a well-worn down blanket; the light of the stars, intensely singing their own night song, calming the cares of the day and lulling me toward my bed and dreams.

as mates and strangers, we band together on this mystic journey among the bold red rocks--with common history or newly gained common ground, answering a call that cannot be ignored--to step into the circle of this now, this here; to join the dance--awake to this dream and live.