red oak

• inhale • om • hold • exhale •

i want to bend and bend and bend
the rules of writing, poetry & possibility 

i want to breath light from the north
and spin it into a sentence
that blooms in your heart

i want to read the ringlets
of water-speak
beneath gnarled roots and
dripping springs, i want to
divine the transits of jupiter,
wind and rain

i will catalyze cosmic creativity 
in the hands of my daughter, to
listen, listen, listen -- 

a butterfly lands at the water's edge

photo by author

I have been germinating place-names and submerging my consciousness into the wet soils of mother earth ~ calling in a new name for a gathering we are hosting on our land this summer (it’s not been renamed yet). We have been given both the gathering and it’s name, somewhat unexpectedly, so we are running with it and feeling the need to rename it, calling into alignment our intentions and vision. So, in light of that contemplation, I wrote a few short poems.

headwaters, humble
wet and 
millionfold, white
hands of the goddess - 
held.

headwaters, holy
hands primordial,
ancient
cave-dwelling
priestess

headwaters, source
of mycelial 
imprint
trickling
down mountains,

calling to
storm and snow,
unite, unite, unite

photo by author, Mt. Lamborn

We are hosting a number of other events this summer, a few silent retreats, a women & children’s gathering and a vision quest camp. Hopefully a grief ritual in early fall. I have been busy dreaming and communicating, updating, typing, planning away. We still hear voices in the wind, echoes in the forest.

When you live like this, immersed in nature, there arises this spaciousness in the way the wind moves and the sun shines, the way the rain falls on the roof or the snow lightly cascades down through the air. Time becomes irrelevant, or thick, like this fullness, this light-filled, fully embodied presence floods the everything of everything, the micro-knooks of Creation and there you are, just living in the infinite throes of eternity, known well by peoples of long ago, in awe, gently tending to the fires of your home, watching the clouds pull in new storms and the chickadees jump from branch to branch.

☼ ☽ ✧

(My daughter giggles with delight as I run, full speed, across the meadow.)

you are the mudra
arms spread wide
open

and this is 
the holy mantra
shrieked across
the open field:

"hug?! hug?!"

there are realms
in the subtleties 
of your breath

dimensions
in the range
of your voice --

we squat at the doorway
to catch snow
in the palms 
of our cupped hands

photo by author ~ the walk to work

If you like what you read, leave a comment or like it or share it or do a little dance, whatever gets you going. As a mama, I usually only have a few blessed moments to write, so that is why my posts are usually short and sweet, simple and open-ended, sometimes maybe a little dis-jointed. I write because it nourishes me and because it keeps me deepening my relationship with nature. I hope it does the same for you.