windthread

 

it's different here,  than at the Other Place….when Wind comes.   Here, this Hill,  there is almost always some movement,  but gentle…drifting through,   across and down.   This Wind today though,  blew my hair.  Blew through the 100 ft trees,  Rushing,  Shushing,  the sound of ebb and flow….tides.  a Pulse.   As if from a Great Heart.  as if.   i think about the words,  as if.

i love very much the marks on this cloth.  Takes me again back to the paraphrase from Women Who Run With the Wolves.  Clarissa Pinkola Estes.

Stand and face what you know.

 

 

so i have this Time.   Alone,  to do with what i Will.  

the first since December.

I am haunted by an image.   Slate,  first,  an article by Dahlia Lithwick  that Mo linked for Dee.  But since,  different places.

the midsection and legs of a young woman,  being searched,  in headlights.  It's night.  You can't see her arms but know they are on the vehicle…up.    At her knee is a child,  girl child,  maybe 2 years?  Pink jacket,  pink shoes.  The child is crying.  I can assume that the child is crying because she wants her mother to pick her up.  The mother doesn't.  The mother can't.  The child will never understand why the mother didn't pick her up.

I  took a nap today.  The good kind.  20 minutes,  mid day.  The kind of nap that allows me to wake….Cleared….wide eyed,  knowing nothing and slowly focusing and realizing where i am.  what i am.   I worked at the hole i am digging for daughter's Hydrangea plant that her son,  my grandson,  gave her for mother's day.  it's late to plant it,  but…better late than never

Earlier in the morning,  i cleared Campsite B.  Picked everything up.  Put things in their two respective tubs,  bagged the junk that they seem to be attached to…the energy drink containers,  chip bags.   It's ready for early work tomorrow.

I hauled down two bucket loads of Goat manure and placed it in the Wall Garden,  gently,  around the plants that grow there.  Gave water.

I walked up and over the top of this Hill and cut some few twigs of Manzanita to add to the jar outside the door.   Bundled some scraps and submerged them.

late in the day,  washed my hair with the Outside hand held shower thing,  at the back of this travel trailer,  the water there heated by the Sun.   it's for camping convenience.  

Way back in the morning,  during tea,  I listened to the latest On Being pod cast.  I wasn't going to.  I felt too raw and didn't want anything gentle and civilized and kind.  But i went there and Frank Wilczek was being interviewed..a theoretical physicist,  mathematition and Nobel laureate.  Who has written a book called A Beautiful Question:  Finding Nature's Deep Design.   It was a beauty Full interview and though i don't imagine i will understand much about the physics,  or the references to mathematics,   what i heard him say,  I KNEW.  I knew to be How It Is.  I knew it to be How It Is since i was a child…watching dust motes,  watching the flow of the creek.   I ordered it from Amazon.  along with some whole cardomon seed,  taking me over budget for this month,  but WTF.

late in the afternoon i stood,  thinking i hadn't accomplished anything today.  I looked at the Refuge Cloth on the wall.  I thought about how i imagine mySelf to be a cloth maker.  So i went back into that bedroom here and began pulling out scraps of cloth from baskets.  What "wanted" my attention?   All the while,  i'm seeing that young woman,  the girlchild.  Thinking,

what good is this thing of cloth making?   

I have no answer.

Alyssia and Emrie missed their plane on their way to Texas to see Emrie's father.   Their luggage went on but all A had was a backpack.  They had to sleep in the airport.  It is conceivable,  given the present tenor,  that passengers might be….uhhh,

detained.

Alyssia is brown.  My daughter is me…light,  blue eyed caucasion.  Alyssia's father was black.  She is brown.  Her married name,  to her son's father who is Puerto Rican,  is spanish.   Emrie is brown.  Her father's name is spanish,  El Salvadoran.  Both Alyssia and Emrie's father are veterans of the United States Navy.  it's where they met.   8 years ago.  But it is conceivable that she might be detained.

detained.  

Emrie,  taken from her.  Like the child taken today,  while breastfeeding.  Emrie breast feeds.  Taken.  For how long?  How long would it take to figure it out?  What would that mean to Emrie?  Why was her mother not there?  Why was her mother not picking her up?

This is Happening.  Like in Germany.  When people were taken to the showers.  The children HERE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA are said to be taken to be "cleaned up".  They don't return.   WHAT IS HAPPENING?  We are heading head long down a slippery slope.  No amount of protest will change it.  So…..WHAT can we do?  Maybe nothing  .  or?

 

 

 

a part of the Hill.   It's a canal that was created for the run off from the Oroville Dam Fish Hatchery.  Many years ago.  How long i will eventually find out.  But right now,  it's a creek.  Fast flowing.  When i get IN it,  any time now,  will probably be to my waist.  It's clean.  There are fish,  crawdads, water striders and just beginning now,  MANY dragonflies.  I put my feet in.  There is no easy access,  a steep slope down.  Tay tried to think about it.  Puppie watched.  It's possible we can make a little landing.  Will talk about that.

comparisons.   to need or want to choose one thing over another….to judge one thing as better than….

How everything carries its own Beauty,  its own unique singularity,   not more than,  not better than.  The specific singular Isness….to appreciate this….just for what it IS.

And then.

Finishing reading The Moth Snowstorm  …. Nature and Joy     by Michael McCarthy

"At some unknown moment between  1 July 2006 and 1 July 2007, according to the demographers of the United Nations,  a momentous milestone in the history of humankind was passed with no one being aware of it:  the percentage of the world's population living in towns and cities exceeded 50 per cent.  Henceforth,  most people on the planet would live urban rather than rural lives,  and for the first time would no longer be in close contact with the natural or even the semi-natural world  (which farming represents);  a majority, and a rapidly expanding one, would no longer have direct access to the rhythms of the growth  cycle, to the effects of seasonality,  to quiet, to the visibility of the stars, to non-industrial rivers and natural forests, and to wildlife ~ to birds and wild mammals, to insects and wild flowers ~ even where, as in more and more places, wildlife was impoverished.  Nature in any form would no longer be part of most people's everyday experience."

the book came highly recommended by the On Being interview a while back.  And tho it was full of so much,  i'd hoped for more,  i'd,  as always, hoped for advice on how to just go.  

I come away with the thought that no one knows how to just go.  

so i guess, maybe,  just this.  Whenever possible,  tell,  like TELL things you feel and see.  TELL them to the guy at the gas station,  the cashier at the grocery.  Whether they seems to want to hear or not.  Just TELL.  Tell how there was this so small bird this morning,  how there was a skunk in the compost,  how the Goat Manure seemed to change the pepper plants over night.  How it was sad that there was a possum squashed on the highway.  Any  thing.  Every thing.  Become the keeper of the Field Notes.  and share those.  Any way we can.  I know that many of us here already do that on blogs,  but to keep on,  and to share it face to face as much as possible.   We can't forget how important any small thing IS.  Every small thing is.

Destiny,  the extended family foster child left for Michigan last weekend.  For the summer?,  for Life?  she will reunite with her father and  unite with her mother for the first time.  

today,  Julian, the 8 yo son of Alyssia will  fly to New Jersey to spend the summer with his father.

Alyssia and Emrie will fly to Texas  for two weeks to spend time with Emrie's father,  to meet her Grandmother there,  her Aunties.  Cousins.

The threads pulse.

Tay and i,  Tazmeena,  Puppy,  the Goats,  the one remaining chicken, Talkie,  we wait here.   it's 99 degrees today.  but a dry heat.  Alyssia and i reviewed all the functional things i need to know…the grey water for the travel trailer,  the use of the generator to charge the phone and this laptop.  Daughter Jenny will come weekends to work on the Hut.  But, in general,  we will be on our own.  How will THAT feel?   

 

felt like that.   A little of Everything.   the strip of french seam from some article of Thrift Shop clothing…i think  probably a design that everyone of the 70's might have had something?   I cut the threads,  tiny threads and finger pressed it flat….to the Other Side.  The intense pleasure of that.

i drew a little.

shoveled along the doe Goat fence line,  loading some just so FINE and already Beauty Full  composted manure and feed debris  into a tall bucket to haul down to the Wall Garden where plants,  especially Pepper plants are having yellowing leaves.

the hose from the main connection down to the travel trailer blew a hole….there was,  for a little while, till i noticed,  a small stream flowing past.  Fixed that with a different hose.  All is well.

Last night, during the night,  maybe about 4 am,  give or take,  a sudden strange sound.  a single sound,  repeated.   Loud.

Tay and I sat straight….ears pricked,  eyes wide,  listening…..I don't know how to describe it…maybe the "word"  KWAT….made of a thick plastic,  like the old fashioned bakelite?   a Plastic sound, large,  maybe the size of a large triangular grapefruit?   I googled night birds in N Cal today…finding nothing.  I can't imagine tho it being a mammal,  What kind?   It's dusk now.   I hope it happens again.

so, this is next.  it refers back to the posts of  5-21  and 5-27.  And again,  primarily Deb Lacativa's cloth,  that Rose UP and presented…perfectly,  the  brilliance of the Earth and specifically,  the signaling of the Spanish Broom.  There is the dark square,  the under ground,  the whispered secrets,  upon that cloth of the Storks Bill,  that is,  IS,  a vague green,  and enough exactly.  

so this next.  and the sense that once it is done,  all else will rise from the Big Picture here.  Will be so much less personal and more,  the Here that Is.

in gratitude for the collaboration with Deb Lacativa's damask, her dirty threads.  Time now to go Into it All.

Finished.   the Cloth of it…Initiation.  Because of the Cloth,  the Understanding of it is strong.  What is New.  Unknown.  The path is Spirit.   Crow Spirit accompanies.    She has been able to allow herSelf to be clear,  to be available for whatever comes.  To meet it with an open Heart.  And this is how the Going will be.  Open Heart.

 

i have no idea what to expect here,  what to imagine.   A while ago,  when there was still RAIN,  there was a cacophony of sound of what i knew to be 

Spring Peepers

that,  being from one of my old lives  my childhood life in Michigan.  

i could see no one.  Were they the same?????  

today,  after the Rains Season,  now when it is becoming DRY,  on this cement block at the wheel of the Travel Trailer,  near where i water the Hydrangea daily….this small being….i think….a Spring Peeper….how the Circle   gently moves in it's circular spin,  slow and elegant 

a Spring Peeper.