windthread

i think a lot about Simultaneous.  Simultaneous realities,  Simultaneous selves.   Because i want to understand the reality of Simultaneousness.  Because i believe it to be real.  It takes such a particular kind of Willingness for a particular kind of Openness.  It's hard, still,  for me to stay in that place.

i just now took the trash dumpster down the hill,  down Carefree Way to it's place on Old Olive Highway.  There is city pick up.  We are on the farthest edge of this service.   Every Monday.  so…we are on the farthest edge of the municipality of Oroville California,  USA.    I looked up at the Hill.  No one would imagine what goes on here.  There's no sign of it,  this reality.  And from this reality,  there is no sign of that other reality that is playing out day unto day.  The noise of it.  the senselessness of it, the cruelty of it,  the  incessant flood of illusion.  

This  is not who we are.   

it keeps being said with every instance of the above.  This is not who we are.  And stuffed animals are placed,  Flowers, small signs and love notes and we say,  This is not who we are.  Candlelight vigils.  This is not who we are.   But more and more it is becoming 

who we are.

so….how do i live?   How do i understand the simultaneousness of who we THOUght we were and who we are??????

Half,  or close,  to the human beings in this country are really ok with things that cause me such deep grief.  And we all live here.   

we all live here.

more and more i am thinking that it is a necessary point in time,  where things will become so pointed,  so stark,  that something will happen…evolutionary,  whatever that might mean.  But something Big.

 

 

 

this Cloth is small,  simple in compositional pieces.  Today the branches of Tree began.  It comes from the REALITY that all the while that the other Reality is playing out,  there is one that is completely simultaneous that holds so Strong and so REAL,  day unto day.  The Sky,  Trees,  Growing of all manner of entities.  It continues along side of all that other,  of its own accord,  true to its own Song.  And though i watch all the Rest,  i can still Stand with This.  I can still  ASK this to take me in enough so i can just go,  holding my own simultaneousness.

Hazel of Handstories put a John O'Donohue quote today from his Beannacht/Blessings.  These few sentences:

May the nourishment of the earth be yours,

may the clarity of light be yours,

may  the fluency of the ocean be yours,

may the protection of the ancestors be yours

 

   

this morning,  an opportunity for maybe TEARS.  But still.  no,  no tears.   Instead,  i have pictures.  Words.   Picture tears,  Word tears.  that translate into the language of cloth 

 

not particuarly anyThing,  but a way to Cry,  to look  longingly,  to beseech  

 

 

 

i "feel like crying"  sometimes but i never cry.  I just don't  .    There is the feeling ,  rising up FULL,  my chest is full,  my eyes and nose kind of tingle,  don't know how to describe it,  but it is there,  but then,   there isn't tears.  I don't know why.  It's how i am.  i've always been that way.

but i am full.  of crying.  A crying of a Tenderness,  a love,  a sadness,  a wish for Hope…..stuff like that.  Stuff like that.

i don't even know if you can see her in this pic.   But,  it's a Journal,  and i will be able to remember.  If she gets a chance,  like the door is left open for a moment,  she goes out.  She's  care FUL L  on the metal steps,  there's 3 of them and then she just takes off.  Setting out.  In this pic,  her onsey is unsnapped and she reminds me of a Lightning  Bug    She took off to where her brother was giving Water to the Goats.  She s barefoot and a one year old steady on her legs,  but she goes FAST.    She fell once but got up fast and kept going.  A one year old girl child.

the guy who is sending bombs…his face,  plain….saying in a deposition some years back that he was owner of a cleaning business and a chipanddale dancer among other things,  and we need to read this stuff before we vote,  wondering how it works in to the All of it and then the people,  moving toward the border.  I would like to just sit and cry for a while.  Cleansing Tears.  Cry.  Cleansing Tears.  but i don't.  i can't.    and so i will lay me down tonight and sleep,  dream,  wake.  Go again.

Alyssia drops Julian off at his school here in Orovile in the morning.  It's 25 min from their present home in Chico.  She loads up Emrie in the car seat.  Him.  His back pack with bus pass which is required.   He gets dropped off down at the end of CareFree Way and Old Olive Highway at about 3:10 give or take.  Walks up,  eats something,  does homework sometimes,  sometimes does one of his online things and then,  ordinarily,  it's Goat time,  Chicken time.  Alyssia and Emrie and i go out.  Sometimes i don't go.  They feed the buck Goats,  fighting off the Doe Goats who are alfafa junkies.  They put feed for Talkie,  check her water,  retrieve her egg.  All that goes slow.  You need to look at everyone,  see how they're doing, pet who wants it,   have a conversation with Talkie,  and with Emrie,  it's really slow because her walking to and fro takes time.  and she doesn't want help.  Wants to do it herSelf.  Takes a while.  Today,  Talkie left a speckled egg.  A first. ??????  Maybe from that lizard?  So the wondering took time too.

Today i finished planting one of the  domestic Lilacs that Jenny had bought.  Late.  the planting.  Was pot bound and had lost all it's leaves.  Digging it's hole took days.  Dig some.  Add water.  Dig some more.  more water.  on,  and use the pick for the rocks.  As i planted it,  i saw that at every possible juncture,  there are new leaf buds,  vibrant green.  i'd kept asking…where do you want to put these?  and there was no answer, because no one knew.  So i picked a place.  Up behind Alyssia's Campsite A,  in a small sunny space where i imagine Emrie and I having a picnic.  

i tried,  last night.  It was overcast.  MOON was there,  but few stars and not so much LIGHT.  I went out and walked up to that ridge where it goes over,  into that part of the forest,  but it was shadowed.  I sat with Tay and then came back.  It does not belong to anyone but itsSelf,  that Place,  and last night it did not open itsSelf.  Ok, then. ok.  

i watch the Cloth on the wall.  Off and on,  all day,  every day.  What does it want?  for the Story?  How can i give that?

i have my sweatshirt ready.  My socks and leggings.  In case.  It's been overcast off and on today.  If the MOON is     O   …..   I don't want to take artificial light.

 

in the North,  up from the Meadow,  in the far forest from B.    Very large and not "fallen into",  but Near one another,  touching.   you instinctively approach slowly and as quietly as you can,  then squat.  a little distance away.  There is the Felt Sense that if you sit long enough and often enough,  If you became familiar to them,  you could hear something,  a kind of language,  or song.   A murmuring .   Tomorrow is a Full Moon.  By next full moon,  all will have changed.  Wet.  Rain will have changed their color and patterns.  Lichen will appear.  Maybe ferns.   I still am not sure exactly how to get there,  to where they are.  I go in that direction and then stand,  wait a lot,  then trying an opening in the brush.  I have yet to make a path.  I'd like to try to go there tomorrow night,  under the Moon.  Before the Rain.

 

that there are no seasons.   That if there are not maple leaves,  there are no seasons.    Season is here,  it's depth and Love.

Cynthia will know this.

in this pic,  the multitude of Oak Galls that i need to figure out how to harvest.

 

 

 

 

but generally,  in All,  there is a Great Exhale going on.   Like a great Sigh.   All has been Done.  Accomplished.  Soon,  the respite of Rain.  Softly,  things Breathe.  Waiting.

Trees take Time.  Trees in Earth and Trees on Cloth.  Bark.  Leaves.

 

 

and then,  there's Roots and All that Lives among the them.    

looking over the back of one of the table benches,  back over it,  across the door way…to the small counter top,  under what has now become the design wall,  such as it is,   

on the left in the pic, the blue pitcher that's full of Goat pellets and sweet feed for Cinderella.  Then that Monkey Basket,  a wierd basket that Alyssia has that's full of walnuts she's found along the road.  Then,  Tazmeena and her food bowl.

above…the Cloths.  And ABOVE,  the hanging birthday Wish for Julian.  today's his birthday.  Nine.  and i hung this,  with the pepper that was sliced to contain his Birthday bill,  his money.  He gets it once a year now.  I am being absolved of Christmas.  So Birth Day.  I tucked it into the chili.  The bows and sprigs of Aztec Spinach and Basil.  in lieu of a bought card.  A garden sentiment.

an odd assortment.  But,  how it is.   

i had a whole day today,  to myself and i spent it pretty much trying to figure out how to use the Walnut dye.  I clamped things,  tied onto things,  but nothing really "worked".  The dye is strong and prevails.  There's not marks.  I try to remember how i did things in New Mex.  But that was pretty much with Elderberry…????  I don't know.  So,  i'll keep trying.