Inspiration

Harvesting Dreams

Harvesting Dreams When the lay of the land lies ripe, Pendulous the moon, Delicious golden weight. Journey from dark birth Headlong toward the Grail Daughter of darkness/daughter of light Hanging horizonless Reflected Consort to her mate His light, her soul. She ripples the blue-black vastness Covering fields, orchards, forest, pasture Making sacred, wheat, corn, apple, grape. Transformative elixir reflecting What is, what is not Her dreams ready the harvest.

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Firefly Memories

Burnt by the sun Summer’s long days pull like taffy From childhood eyes. Womb return to lemonade Steaming pavements, hoses, and wild cries. Tree Frogs burp, exciting the dark. Sounds of far off waves move in When we lie in light long after bedtime. Dreaming with eyes wide open–memories Caught in a firefly net of lingering dusk, Between what was and what was wished, Dreams come and gone And come again. Have we only to roll in the sweet grass, Lie still in an August night? Or did we dream the first time?

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Night Moves

Tender is the night Soaked in August heat Oven-baked-day leftovers Bodies soft and bendy. Darkness swallows Noon’s acrid burn, A sensuous descent Of thought melting into midnight air Bones disappearing Skin surrendered to touch. Scent of dripping Brugmansa, Perfumed, poisonous, gold-orbed, Magic alive and well Settling deep in the nostrils. Possibility enters I am already different

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Lions In The Heat of Summer

In days of darkness, somewhere there is light. When we have lost faith, somehow, reason to hope appears. When we are most cruel, sometimes kindness prevails. A brief news bulletin from the provincial town, Beta Genet, 350 miles outside of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, tells of a twelve year old girl, missing for a week, who’d been taken and beaten by seven men, one of whom wanted to marry her against her wishes. Three lions came and frightened away her attackers, then stood guard over her throughout the afternoon until police and family found her. “They stood guard until we found her,” said Sergeant Wondimu Wedajo, “And then they just left her like a gift and went back into the forest.” A gift indeed. A redolent reminder that there are more things in heaven and hell than we shall ever know. When Angels choose to move through us, ‘us’ doesn’t have to mean human. The connection between human and animal is far greater than we acknowledge. Mankind can be so much worse than we wish to know. Redemption can be greater and stranger than before envisioned. Like storytellers of old, sharing this story makes it more alive in me. It calls to what is profound, mysterious, and brave, as well as what is evil. In its re-telling I connect over and over to the magic, alive here on earth, never forgetting how close by darkness waits. Be the lion! Asana: Simhasana/Lion Pose, of course. You can sit with your R foot placed under left buttocks, place L foot under R buttock, or in Padmasana, or kneel. Stretching the back up, extend hands, placing them on the knees, opening fingers wide. Focus gaze at tip of nose, or within to the Third Eyes, in center of forehead. Open your mouth as wide……

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The Misshapen Heart

There is an astrological signature for the place in each of us where we are most wounded, and where ultimately we do our greatest healing, and teaching. It is the placement o an Asteroid called ‘Chiron,’ named for the Greek God who was blacksmith, teacher, and healer to the Gods, and their offspring on Mt Olympus. I am reminded of Chiron through my Yoga Practice, for it surfaces in poses that fmost rustrate me, and where my body feels inept/misshapen. Ultimately these are the Asanas offering the greatest knowledge, and profound understanding not only of my body but my attitude toward it. In my growing consciousness healing begins. The ‘Chironic wound’ is a reminder not only of what we think we don’t do well, but where we hold back, where we allow fear to squelch effort, then disdain ourselves for taking the risk. Psychologically, it is the interior space where we cannot, or do not support ourselves, selling our talents short, diminishing our true gifts, or worse, not even recognizing them. Just as our Practice over time opens consciousness, and elevates desire, Chiron’s healing comes through the same practice of awareness, loving kindness, forgiveness. In both, the deep bell tones of a well lived life emerge out of rock-hard struggles. The Chironic wound often appears as the ‘Zen-Master:’ The unfair boss who drives you crazy, the lover who abandons you, the child who flagrantly disobeys. Each of these demonic conflicts has something important to tell us/teach us, then heal us. Are we listening? Are we willing to bring our ‘misshapen hearts’ into light? Asanas: Natarajasana or Lord of the Dance. Begin in Tadasana, and move onto the R foot, (lift R knee cap, and draw thigh deep into hip joint.) bending L knee, raise the leg behind you. Rotate L……

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Punxsutawney Phill

Nothing against Aquarians, but February is not a cakewalk as months go. We have spent our money, and bills are due. Pipes are frozen, and you can’t smell spring. We have gained weight, and resolutions haven’t paid off yet. Taxes, like heating bills, loom large. Given that the above are true, what do we most need? Hope & Silliness, not necessarily in that order. Groundhog’s Day goes a long way to satisfying hopes with lashings of silliness. Groundhog Day history is a strange combination of European and Native Indian ritual and story. In February 4, 1841 a Pennsylvania-German storekeeper referred to a celebration of Candlemas, which has origin in the pagan celebration of Imbolc. It is timed for the mid-point between Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. Candles were lit and carried home to dark houses. Superstition was that if the weather was fair, the second half of Winter would be stormy and cold. The other half of the Groundhog equation emerged from the Delaware Indians, who considered groundhogs honorable ancestors. According to their original creation beliefs, their forebears began life as animals in “Mother Earth” and emerged centuries later to hunt and live as men. The Woodchuck comes from the Indian legend of “Wojak, the groundhog” who was considered to be the Indian’s ancestral grandfather. Punxsutawney comes from the Indian name for a location, “ponksad-uteney” which means “the town of the sandflies.” So far so good. None of this is particularly interesting or makes any connection to today’s legend. They simply increase the nonsense around Groundhog Day, casting wierd shadows on it’s history. What I love is that from these disparate, sacred beginnings, it took Americans only a few short years to turn them into the bizarre ritual of Punxsutawney Phil looking for his shadow. Asanas: If the requirement is……

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