small eternities

there is a waiting place. with openings and missed opportunities. a river of growth. the water changes from a mirror, to gold, then deep midnight. light and depth perceive the same truth. is it so that we only exist in the eyes of another? are we more meaningful relating. the drone of a boat being oared across the surface ever so calmly soars with this reception. sometimes our solitude is what reminds us of our whole self who at times meanders under a cloak of grief. just move your body says wisdom. be a movement that is its own. grand. 

to heal - 

i carry a black bear in my arms, two cartons of eggs, two hands. feel.

crimson cats

craft life softly, with reciprocity. 

the other night through a trail of coyotes i reunited with an ancient piece of earth bearing many stories. there is a viewpoint there that i’ve know all my lives. i think that says something about existence. when, on the way home the still, cool land winds through congregations of juniper trees, an arroyo weaves a water trail. sagebrush, a maze that illuminates the air. i find a photo of a journeyed stairway in Peru and knew it could take me anywhere. tending the fire is our role now, to gather, prepare, then converse with the spirit of the flames. the dance of cue and element. 

delicious monster

it is kind of lovely to write to the ether. i wonder if anyone is listening. anytime frogs have sung their shamanic voices it nestles into my body, my memory, my heart. aren’t they all one. the moment transpires into a ripple of moonlight on water under mountains reflected by our momentous cosmos. delightful. unusually happy and sad, my friend and i collide she is bright and offers me sweet cakes under rain in the parking lot. people try to navigate around us, we are in our own world of appreciation. later my husband says he’s leaving. he comes back. there are two fires in us and the future will write itself. love is curious and we are worlds apart with maps that lead our return. 

that is why i leave the windows cracked. smoke can release itself from our walls. i stood in front of a thousand year old hearth and someone dreamed the same dream with me.

blue voices

i was in there thinking everything. cried with autumn rain. the chill had arrived and i almost forgot the season of preparation before winter, however long it may last. before the bears paw up osha after they wake from winters ceremony they sleep, a long dream, a different realm. i am reminded of light, music and solitude. even though we are a family at the table - a fullness of way - there are empty chairs where guests would sit. our family down the road, our family across the country, an ocean, no longer in this body. candles are hopeful saviours in a time where reflection on all our paths is given and illuminated. to heal, to go, in time for an October full moon. after the show, we hopefully listen for rest within. a grieving period arrives and leaves. let it. the past scene reveals how different our days can unfold and how we navigate it with realism and the supernatural. 

finally, juniper and pinon trails up to the sky from our house. the sacred incense of home. our place is placed under the stars and we must look upward to the roof, here is our atlas. yes, that sense of belonging is with us. all along. i watch from a vantage point greater than myself.

and, give thanks. 

flowers, flannel, lamplight

once time. that’s what my daughter says when she starts a story. she sings sentences often and tells me she is singing a little song. more of this natural state. sometimes it is impossible to fathom how time works or how  capacity can be so great. i am sorry for the land and people where water’s powerful nature swallowed history, lives. organizations have come together to decide on ancient ways of tending a healthy forest so that consumption is balanced and a universal anger soothes. burning low brush in certain areas under thoughtful conditions. a planned, spirit led path. when i inhale smoke and the horizon is hidden a part of me freezes. then i relearn how things can be done. 

distinctly a new chapter begins. friendship, tapestry. the dishwasher roars. freezing air escapes the faulty freezer. a mouse eats butter. candlelight, music. a bird book or two. our hands guide us. patterns, colour and plants.

my son learns about life from giant willow tree who is the guardian of our home. the unison of coyote. sacred epiphanies.

prescribed fire

muted rosewood. when i imagined the cave with candlelight that i would retreat to for a quiet dance, i was sitting on my bathroom floor surrounded by violins. just for a moment i wondered. 

clay joins with water in the shower in the music. at the grocery store i reach the counter and see a total price i don’t accept. why do wise ones across the planet become extinguished. why is anyone only now figuring out animals enjoy each others company in peaceful clearings on common ground. we did come here as love. we are here in a wild fire. running through a flash in the night produces such contrast to our outcomes. 

juxtaposition: sandstone, sky

i am a mother in the desert. 

my wilderness.