Monday, September 16, 2019
meditation is old and honorable, so why should i
not sit, every morning of my life, on the hillside,
looking into the shining world? because, proper-
ly attended to, delight, as well as havoc, is sug-
gestion. can one be passionate about the just, the
ideal, the sublime, and the holy, and yet commit
to no labor in its cause? i don't think so.
all summations have a beginning, all effect has a
story, all kindness begins with the sown seed.
thought buds toward radiance. the gospel of
light is the crossroads of --- indolence, or action.
be ignited, or be gone.
~ mary oliver what i have learned so far
this early morning..moon cloud hidden..
peeping out again and again
a watchful eye to catch a glimpse of earth..
earth speaking plainly through fragrance
scent of moist soil dug in deep with wet weep
rains calling for wake up..
i felt certain i smelled the fresh watery voice
redolent with the perfumes of faraway lands -
incense, dung, spice and herb
fire, ice and countless living beings
requesting heedfulness of hands feet hearts
earth implores with the whiff of rising tides
come stand with me for me
kindle the tinder of care
vox terra ~ vox populi
ignite or be gone ~
Friday, September 20, 2019 • 11:00 AM rally / 12:00PM march
Bellingham City Hall • 210 Lottie St, Bellingham, WA 98225
Contact Info: email@example.com
youth led all ages climate strike on September 20th.
*Wear green, all day, anywhere
Saturday, August 10, 2019
in the end, all you want is someone to long for you
when it comes time to put you in the ground.
~ tea obreht
i pick up road kill..
moving it to a soft grassy shoulder
or laying it out under a shade tree..
sometimes i actually carry it home
for a different burial
picking them off the roadway of fast wheels
i always stop.. most always stop ...
to remove the remains to the side ..
to keep scavengers from meeting the same fate
to whisper some prayer of release and love
to ask forgivness for our human speed
the dead are celebrated.
the dead are loved.
they give something to the living.
once you put something into the ground,
you always know where to find it.
~ téa obreht
it is said..
one becomes a totem to the very animal
one has lifted up..
and the animal beomes a totem for thee
one comes to be clan..
nindoodem - my clan
our last breath informs the first breath..
take note of the inhale and the exhale..
some nights back..
with the cool heat sifting thru my open windows
i heard a strange sound in the wee early hours
of the last night's new day..
piercing my heart and wide-waking my eyes..
a bark of sorts.. a keen..
was it a dog?
some strange human animal texture -
mournfulness and yearning co-mingled
puzzled and straining to hear a known name to place it..
it ended in the unmistakable yip of coyote..
the cry - so unnerving -
the still - so loud -
the vibe of it kept me on alert
before slowly turning me back to slumber ..
as i drove out the road, the following morning..
i see ..
i see the sound i heard..
in the middle of the road
it is a coyote kit
the colour of wheat
the colour of sun
a pup - new to the world..
soft pelt, clear eye
at the very same place in the road..
the very next day..
an elder..grey and sun-scorched..
following the footsteps
of the one thus gone..
both laid out in the deep grasses
a long while ago..
when i was teaching
at the swinomish spiritual center
- still living in anacortes -
driving home one evening
i see a raccoon .. hit..
circling back, i pick up the heavy carnivora
and place it under a tree just outside town..
as i rest it down, the palms touch gently together in namaste..
stunned and moved beyond the beyond..
prayers come easy.. tears too..
all autumn long as i drove by..
i watched the body
mulch its way back to clay,
to gaia mother..
last summer i scooped up
2 babe masked marauders
- heart - broken-open for days -
traveling the laconner-whitney road
great blue heron met its demise..
upon lifting it up .. still warm
holding the great wings to me
the warmth of life deserting its expanse..
i carried it home for some unknown reason
a friend who knew the art of preserving,
honoring and tending the winged ones
crafted the wings for me ..
the pinions were huge and aloft with power..
i lived in the attic of the nantucket at the time..
daily i would stretch the wings out on the rich brown carpet
and lie down upon them -
receiving the power and the glory
of one such majestic avian dinosaur
after a time, i gifted the wings to my husband's lover's lover..
eventually i gifted husband to lover!
just before my walkabout to california..
on a night that held a throbbing energy,
i awoke to hawk..
spread eagle..butterflied on the front lawn..
as if it had been laid out for me..
in full feather finery..a red tail..
again i took the splendiferous one
to my pal and she crafted a hawk fan -
she strung a lone feather on my cap
we laughed that it would save me
from birds pooping on my head..
and indeed it did..
to this day, my gaze is hawk-eyed
to every raptor along the hiways and byways..
in the most obscure nooks..
i am linked heart and soul to hawk..
like a bird on a wire..
fussing and chirring..
with such passion..
keening a lament ~
on the ground just below..
a squash of feather
nary a form left to lift ~
a partner, a pal, a lover, a mate..
i could not move a muscle
until the sorrowful bird took flight
liftting crow up and off road..
a murder gathered -watching
silent at first
then bellowing their thunderous raucous
that only these black birds can muster
after i placed the fellow corvid
in a tender lush spot ..
they encircled the corpse
wailing the wake
cats, flickers, bunnies, snails, possums
all totems for me..
let us please slow down
we are in no hurry
.... if you are making your journey in a hurry,
you are making it poorly.
~ téa obreht, the tiger's wife
pray that you shall not harm another..
on the road or off the road ~
yet the whirr of wheels and the speed of light..
the karma and dharma of birth and death
might slip sideways into action..
if so ~ here are two mantras
that will ease the pain of the all and every :
OM MANI PADME HUM
OM NAMAH SHIVAYA
* grammer police :
dunno if i got the lay and lie
the laid and lain
all in proper places..
do send out a warrant, if need be..
Friday, July 26, 2019
i voiced these words to a wee rabbit and her mama
this early AM on my meditation stroll..
perhaps frivolous in this day when all is a rumble..
the climate crisis,
the #metoo watershed,
the political predicaments,
the senseless violence -
fun is enjoyment..
the bliss of resting in a spiritual blessedness..
the skillful means of accepting the tender intimacy
with all that being fully alive brings -
the allowing of life to offer the ten thousand things
at our feet.. bowing .. and letting go ..
a spiritual blessing might be:
may all the moments of your life
and the lives of every being
be one of wakefulness,
a user friendly 3 letter word..
though i will say, it was not much fun to
be crashed into by a hit & run driver..
WHAT A SURPRISE - O MY O!
(she was found ! she has insurance!)
and it did not feel like a spiritual blessing..
hum? wait a minute ..
karma ripened, eh?
that in itself is a blessing..
while it isn't quite amusing
filling out insurance forms,
driving around in a jalopy..
(mila rubie is sooo self conscious!)
feeling sore and achey all over
i am, indeed, having fun being alive -
thank you very much!
remember that there are two kinds of lunatics:
those who don't know that they must die,
and those who have forgotten they're alive.
~ patrick declark
in our yoga practice..
sukha is an energetic state of being
that reveals itself when we are in the flow
of what is..this is it!
able to see and be in the world without any blinders..
savoring the robust taste of exactly THIS..
dukha, the reverse of sukha,
is often explained as a vulnerability
to suffering actually inflicted upon ourselves
veiling our authentic nature - joy -
loving the all of life..
& having fun doing it..
i remember a saying from a comrade on the path ~
nothing outside the self..
along with the words of marcus aurelius ..
look within; within is the fountain of all good.
so it seems then..
it is up to our wise olde selves
to bring to our table of aliveness,
made up of a fluttering impermanence,
an open palm rather than a tight fist,
a wee smile that invites an ease of being,
a willingness imbued with the delectable clarity of just this..
it takes only one breath
if this life assailed by many ills
is yet more fragile than a bubble on a stream,
how wonderful it is to wake from sleep
and having loosed one's breath,
to breathe in once again?
Tuesday, July 2, 2019
morning had broken..
it was 4:30 am and i am
walking the tightrope yellow line
down the middle of bayview edison road..
it will be a bright day..
warm and windy as usual..
halfway to the slough trail,
i catch a fawn doing ice rink leaps
above the grass at the trailer park..
she/he stops as she catches wind of me..
i stop too
we gaze at the gazer in one another..
my fortune from the day before said:
your tenderness is your greatest strength
the medicine cards claim the deer as gentleness -
whoa! lo! a second prancing dancer skids
in behind her /his sibling and their 4 eyes
hold my 2 eyes in a most gentle stare down..
then mama comes along and the spell is broken..
we are all on the move again..
the lone duck who i've been keeping my eye on
is still alone this morning and appears to enjoy the solitude
her mate has left her with..
what do i know..?
except that i appear to enjoy the solitude
my mates have left me with !
birds and beasts and jewelled insect free
know me full well; one brotherhood are we.
~ james thomson
my legs had lost their "start up" pain
and it was a joy of joys to be moving along the path
with the pace of..dare i say.. a dancing fawn..
as i closed in on the finish line up the road
to the wee abode, walking backwards as is my usual stride
to get the full spectrum of calf and gluts and whatever toots -
i see the winged one..
the fledging is huge..immense in wing span ..
the aura is at once powerful and tentative..
i am witness to the first flight ..
the eaglet youth circles exactly above my head
and turns back to the nest..
the nest that i have watched
ecstatic and in full wonderment
i am so excited i spin and yelp -
arriving at complete standstill
.. in awe and admiration..
what must it take to move off the edge of the nest
into the thin bright air of emptiness and clear light?
what must it feel like to open the tightly folded wings
that had held one a' capture to sticks and twigs?
what must it be to fly, fly away from the known
to the unknown?
everything harmonizes with me
which is harmonious to thee, o universe.
nothing for me is too late nor too early
which is in due time for thee.
everything is fruit to me
which thy seasons bring, o nature.
in thee are all things, from thee are all things,
to thee all things return.
~ marcus aurelius
if all this was not enough to set my own wings flying..
i ended up on a whale watching boat that afternoon
with three lovelies and a band of scamps looking for
cetaceans in the salish sea..
we found them..
the great sea pandas in number,
coming in for a plunder -
right before our very eyes,
the blessed porpoise was late lunch for the orcas..
leapin' and hoppin' on a moon shadow
rolling and romping with great glee
robustly, lushly, huskily licking their lips..
do whales have lips?
become the one that when you walk in,
luck shifts to the one who needs it.
if you have not been fed, be bread.
as one animal to another, it was a day to remember...
nature never did betray the heart that loved her.
Sunday, June 9, 2019
give me a land of boughs in leaf,
a land of trees that stand;
where trees are fallen there is grief;
i love no leafless land.
- a.e. housman
i was given a book for my birthday ~
conversations with trees
she recalled her first experience..
her first conversation with a tree..
do you talk with trees?
i speak with most anything..everything..
the prius - mila rubie -
a stuffed elephant - babar -
trees - o yes..
ants, spiders, dogs and cats, of course!
tea kettles, yoga mats, bicycles - spike & shantidevi -
shoes, dollars, frying pans, ghee, hats, zippers, screen doors..
hummingbirds - well, any of winged the ones..angels!
unwieldy garbage bins, bells, cookies, each bone in the body,
pancreas, kidneys..every organ..the sun, moon, stars..
all bodies of water, pens, papers & pencils..books..clocks,
the laptop, the iphone, keys, vacumn cords, hoses, hangers,
jeans..too tight or toulouse..lamps, candles, holy moly images,
shivas & their linghams..
we were talking about trees..
my first true conversation with a tree that i recall
came when i had 6 or 7 years to my name ~
there from the beginning of time -
a tree in our yard in elmhurst, illinois..
my sister and i were introduced to this tree by
our mama who called him the box elder..
he was definitely an elder
and definitely a he to me..
toweringly tall with maplely leafy leaves..
utterly open to being climbed,
to be hung from,
to be swung 'round,
always generous and compliant..
silent, goodly and kind..
a most grandfatherly tree and the biggest in the hood..
we gathered there often ~
'neath the compassionate shade tree..
for picnics, parties and cool downs..
on our backs gazing up, up into the green expanse..
the sky shimmering thru just enough to keep us on planet..
we lie on the earth;
to keep from falling into the stars,
we reach as wide as we can and hold onto the grass.
~ william stafford
there was a weekly climb..maybe even bi-weekly..
in summer, an every day climb..
- the tree was the gathering place -
all the neighbor kids would simply show up
and climb aboard..
my first entrepreneurial scheme..my premier start-up!
i had heard my parents speak about insurance..
though i thought they might have said assurance ~
i was onto something..
when the clans and tribes arrived one morning,
i spoke to them with fervor about the need for assurance..
only 10 cents would assure their safety ..
if they fell, they most assuredly would get their dime back..
a few walked away, scratching their heads..
others scampered home for their allowance..
many returned with a shiny 10 cent piece..
which i collected and kept in a glass pill jar
exactly the diameter of a dime..
( i have it to this very day )
my stack of coins was growing and i needed a second bottle.
so...i emptied out a prescription of my father's
and my assurance fund grew to two pill flasks..
the entire neighborhood -
it's a beautiful day in the neighborhhod.
a beautiful day for a neighbor.
would you be mine?
could you be mine?
won't you be my neighbor?
~ fred rogers
- contacted my family tree and said .. whoa!
already heartily reprimanded
for emptying dad's pill bottle
and now for charging the neighbor kids for their climb..
i was instructed to return every last assurance dime
that i had summoned to my person..
and in no uncertain terms ..
(whatever does that mean exactly?)
never to do either again...
thereafter, the good-natured tree
was free climbing for all..
woebegone, i clambered up to my look out
for solace and to offer my meek apology to the elder..
feeling, somehow, i had harmed him
with my business venture..
when i reached my perch at the tree top
(the top for me, that is)
the elder spoke to me in his mysterious susurrous voice ~
all will be well -
without fail - your glass pill flask will be filled just enough -
rest assured, you will always - always, i say..
be enfolded by a mighty bough embrace
that will forever lift you up to higher ground..
Saturday, May 25, 2019
next time what I’d do is look at
the earth before saying anything. i’d stop
just before going into a house
and be an emperor for a minute
and listen better to the wind
or to the air being still.
when anyone talked to me, whether
blame or praise or just passing time,
i’d watch the face, how the mouth
has to work, and see any strain, any
sign of what lifted the voice.
and for all, i’d know more — the earth
bracing itself and soaring, the air
finding every leaf and feather over
forest and water, and for every person
the body glowing inside the clothes
like a light.
~ william stafford
next time now
in wonderment at the vast fantabulous sounds of a starling..
the whirring propellers of hummingbird wings..
the way water rests on the coat of a black dog.. rosie..
the dharma discourse from the alder elders
leafing wisdom just across the street..
the yellow finches lined up on the branch to be counted..
the miraculous fabric of peony petals..
it is evening now after a full day of rain..
there is clearing further across the valley
and the light is edging closer..
only the still thrum of the hummers,
the drippily drip of the roof drops descending..
the echo of a robin trilling..
the solitary refinement of a day ..
a birth day..
to be born into this!
Sunday, May 12, 2019
fal low /falō/
left unsown for a period in order to restore its fertility
who can say?
why one simply stops sowing seeds,
nurturing words, ideas, notions ~
a field that has rested
gives a bountiful crop
that might be overstating
what may come of this post,
i have heard it said that
providing oxygen is the
noblest of vocations..
giving flame enough oxygen
so it may burn..
a deep breath..
the oxygen of our practice..
the vayu (wind) of expression..
at the throat
up and out!
thought expressing as speech
think of brahmari breath..
the honey nectar of hum..
the sound of space.. akasha
- the element of the throat chakra -
pure clean communication
poetry and hums aren't things
which you get,
they're things that get you.
all you do is go to where they find you.
~ a.a. milne
once, when i was sad, i said to a kind olde priest -
have you learned any secrets to unburden the heart?
he responded -
hum a favorite melody;
wine will always rise to
the top of oil.
~st. catherine of siena
it's mother's day!
my mama's favorite melody
( mine now, also..)
and a most profound notion:
row, row, row your boat
gently down the stream,
merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
life is but a dream.
what kind of dream do we wish
to be living, we would ask one another?
she was a needle artist and had been
working on a piece..
it is unfinished..
the never-ending dream..
the never-ending sweet dream ~
in the highest yoga tantra of vajrayana,
the throat chakra is focused on
for the practice of dream yoga...
meditating upon it before sleep
will bring forth lucid dreams..
where we continue our yoga practices ..
awake while dreaming!
seeding the heart-mind
with sweetness, with wisdom..
~ may your pure dreams come true ~
ian bogost has said :
as a writer, i realize i am going
to have to write again!
as i say:
glad to be back..on blog
as osip mandelstrom says:
take from my palms,
for your delight and joy,
a little honey..