windthread

 

for the last month or so,  Madia has permeated this world.  In the evening, the pungence of her scent clings and remains present even all the way up the Hill to C.   Everything continues to dry,  now mid August,  and will continue to dry on into November.  Today,  her scent was a little less.  But to touch,  strong.  I still need to learn what she teaches.    She has multiplied over the lower section of the meadow,  along the fence line.  And then on the road out,  CareFreeWay,  out and the turning right,  up a ways on Old Olive.  She is bordering us.

Green Tara,  on the right wall.   in a frame.   The difference in the Sense of this place is surprisingly clear.  It's the

frame.

it changed Everything.   And now,  we are on that Edge of too much.   Nothing else can come In unless something goes Out.

reading again.   Plant Intelligence and the Imaginal Realm   Stephen Harrod Buhner

"once  you come to understand,   in your experience, that you are just one life~form among many,  that you can meet the other life~forms  here in  moments of tremendous intimacy,  it enables one of the most wondrous of explorations possible.  To leave the human world behind,  the surface identity of the self,  and swim,  only one life~form among a multitude,  deep into the metaphysical background of  the world is to enter a place where we meet there as living beings,  identical in nature at the core,  similar intelligences,  all given birth by Earth,  all expressed out of the Ocean of Being into form.  And in those moments  of touch,  we look back at each other with luminous eyes and tell tales of the lives we have lived and the lands we have seen and speak of the commonalities of what it means to be alive on this Earth,  kin,  all of whom came from common ancestors long ago"

after waking this morning,  i lived OutSide.  I listened to Wind,  that came and went.  To Crow,  overhead,  3 times.  

i am washing my shirts in a bucket.  When i'm done,  i will wash my hair,  my body,  out there,  where Wind still moves.

Inside is one thing.  OutSide is way more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

gifted,  these Black/White.  The front,  the back.

the second day of 102.   Not unusual for August,  here or in New Mex.   but still,  102.   A  long day for Emrie and i.  We spent the morning walking and sitting.   collecting,  arranging and naming.   She collects  things  up from the ground as we walk.  Twigs stones and rocks  leaves.  Today a feather.  We both carry them.  When we stop to sit,  she arranges them and looks closely  saying words she knows  for them,  lately being about size differences.  There are Mama sticks  and baby sticks.  Leaves are nice and sharp and green and brown.  spots.  Today we added smooth and rough.  pointed and dull.  She loves words now.  collects  words.   Did this till she asked for milk which meant she was willing to try a nap.   felt tired.  She used to nap for two hours…but lately,  not at all or just an hour.   Today  just a blessed hour of silence and up again with hours to go till MomMom came back.   We  filled our  water things and set out to B.   There we ripped toad egg cloth and used it to tie the many bells in the  small grove of trees where the hammock is,  a couple on the cloth line right over the hammock and then we got on and layed back at opposite ends.  Rocked and talked.  she rang the bells.  We talk about trees,  their branches,  how they move,  about all the leaves,  the Sun.  The birds that ride the thermals overhead and the ones in the near trees that we can only hear,  repeating their sounds.  We feel the quiet wind that sometimes is wind,  sometimes just breeze and imitate the movement with our hands and arms,  blow softly with our own breath.   

And then the buttons.  All the last part of the day we looked at the buttons.  Talked about the buttons.  Arranged the buttons.  Put buttons in the jar and took them out.  Repeat.  We never ran out of things to do and say about the buttons.  When Momma came,  we had come back from there for more water.    Julian had gotten home from school.  We turned the mist sprinkler on.  Alyssia brought mexican food from a new place.  It's food friday.    Somewhere in there,  i told Alyssia that that button jar was the only thing maybe that i would ask  her to always keep.  That i wanted her to tell Emrie to always keep,  that i wanted Emrie to tell some other to always keep.  I want to think of the buttons always there in the jar.  Some taken out sometimes for use.  But when that use is over,  the threads clipped and the buttons   put back .   Buttons.  From a time when buttons had meaning.  From when clothing was made with care and pride.  I thought of how Dana makes her table.  Like that.  French seams.  Darts and gathers.  Tailored.  and then,  the buttons.

 

 

 

 

 

from way back,  when Jude was teaching weave.   i remember making it…just because i could.  I think how spontaneous things were then because everything was a First.   I remember the feeling of that  and the joy in the simplicity.  

I want to make more of these.  This,  is how i can pray.   And i want to make prayers .   I want to pray for Humanity,  for all Beings,  for the Earth.    In the last few days i have come to realize how small my concerns are in comparison.

i went down to B.  Should have gone earlier.  SUN was Center and white yellow.  But i sorted and sat and looked and sorted.

Funny,  i thought i had a whole storage shed of stuff,  but really,  no…one tub.   Paper things.  Art paper,  paper and notebooks.

a single tub.  And one of the flat under the bed storage things for doll figures.   There's 4 of them.   That's it.  There are some plates.  I can set them in the trees by the hammock.  A couple bowls too.  i'll see if i can take a pic of the Whole of it.  Maybe.

so i am going to take a day or two off from here to first catch up with the really supportive and loving comments and also to acknowledge that things have shifted.    To understand and acknowledge that Shift.

and Green Tara.  She was wrapped.  Now on the wall,  Center,  where she was There. and things already feel Her,  there is

a gentle but strong vibration,  a hum.   What might living with Her Here be like?

i say that a lot.   I love something,  or "you",  or a thing,  or a doing,  or or or.   I say it a lot.  I love _____.  And thinking a lot about love as a verb.  a doing.   Emrie is helping me learn about what it IS to love.  Sometimes today when she was really tired but couldn't let herself take a nap,  she gets uh,  well,  a little mean streak shows.   She pushes things across the table fast.  They fall on the floor.  She thumps her book VERY hard on the table.  Throws a lego at me.  Or,  bangs one of my drawing pencils so that the lead breaks and i said STOP!,  really loud.   It startles her,  the loud,  it's not often at all and she is wide eyed,  unsure

and in that moment,  there is the possibility of Love as a verb.   There is a Pause.  We are locked in eye contact.   I finally break the silence and say, no.  my pencil.  and pick the broken lead pencil up and hold it to my heart,  patting it.  My pencil.  Love.  Love my pencil.  I say Emrie.  No…..this time quietly.   She still is wide eyed.  I say Emrie.    No…love love,  and pat my pencil again and then say   OK old nana,*  ok and i smile and begin singing the Happy All Day song that is just those words,  over and over to a non specific tune…she made it up…. and she releases  and says Ok old nana  and begins to sing along and after a couple rounds we go from there.  Love.  And i still have the cold and i think,  after they have left, that maybe the Wall Garden will be ok enough till morning.  I think to just skip this evening water giving.   But then,  i think about how i say i love the Garden.   And what does that mean?,  but how a garden is Loved,  by the end of a long hot day,  but 

water.  The word means nothing,  the water means everything.

 

so we go.  Me and Tay,  Puppy somewhere on the periphery in the trees.   All of us  and in this way,  it's Goat Love too.  They find meaning in these walks of belonging.  Talkie trails along at the end.    They can't come in to the A space…i close the gate,  so they fan out and browse along the creek until it's time go walk back up.    And i think about how Love is how we live.  Every day.  Such simple stuff.  But the weave is so strong  and i sit in my 3 resting places on the way back and look up into the trees.  Them too. 

Love, Love.   I pat my heart.

*i have had no name till this last weekend  when we were all working,  and she pointed,  over and over to us all and herself,  saying names,  Emie,  MomMom or Mama,  Nana,  Jenny,  her grandma,  and then from so long ago and from what Julian calls me,  Old nanna, me.   It suddenly had meaning to her.   she says it O Nanna.    Naming.  Claiming.

i turned off Comments for last eve's post.   We're just going to let things be.   Figure out the best way to just go and

go.

it's just so uhhhh, unexpected.

Talkie.  A single chicken.  Who has ONE chicken?   Who IS one chicken?   Talkie.  She accompanies Us,  me,  Tay,  Puppy down to give water tonight.  It's been a long day.  They all came and there was more work on the kidding pens.  Julian and i have Emrie's cold.  Emrie is way fine and over it.  And during the Work and at the end of the work we talk about Who We ARE,

some kind of family.  Julian is hard.  He is similar to Jude for me.  Sure of his understanding of How Stuff Is  but i love him,  like i love Jude.   And i need that kind of love,  that kind of different knowing.    The loving of them helps me.

 

and i am sitting there,  on a 4×4  while they saw and screw and i see….there in the dust and leaves….!!….Acorns…small,  immature ones…MANY acorns,  complete protein,  Acorns….and i understand that THIS is what the Goats glean now…i didn't know,  but now i do….there are so Many.  The First People here relied on Acorns.

 

i want to Cry with the Beauty of it all…this being Human.   

I got pics today from Mike and Thelma,  my friends back in Socorro.  Pics.  They went to the Polvadera Place.  Travis has gone to Florida.  Everett to somewhere in town.  The Home,  the Substation. Pics of that.  It's a MESS. I felt like i'd been punched in the  stomach.  I couldn't breathe for a minute.  I felt sick to my stomach.  And then…it all subsided.   And i just looked.  Looked at photographs of a Place i Love.  Loved for 20 some years.  It's trashed. 

 

 

circling around,  always, again,  back to quantum physics.  Physics.  Metaphysics.  

"When you change the way you look at things,  the things you look at change."   Max Planck

"the most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious.  It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science."  Albert Einstein

addendum,  late.

it is not for me,  ever, to define Spirit, but just to keep looking.  Keep looking.  Like my dog.  She is ever looking.  Having no idea, ever,  what she might see.