silver threads of connection moving through and beneath everything
The Mad Farmer
Make me an instrument
If there is any desire in me may it be the desire to be of some use.
Where there is hatred, let me show love. Where there is injury, pardon. Where there is doubt, faith. Where there is despair, hope. Where there's darkness, light. And where there is sadness, joy. Grant that I may not so much to be consoled, as to console. To be understood than to understand. To be loved as to love. (Prayer of Brother Francis)
A tribute to connection and living a medicine life. To becoming a Hollow Bone.
Song Of Fidelity
All things change. All things grow. What is fidelity? How can we ask for this new love to remain constant when we ourselves are in flux and transformation? Grace. Forgiveness. And holding the love in the Light of its highest potential. We can cultivate fidelity to ourselves with self talk that lifts us up. We can be in fidelity to our families by being who we are in honesty, trusting they are big enough to love us always. We can be in fidelity to our work in the world by remembering the things we enjoy about it as we slog through the not so wonderful days. We can be in fedelity to our world by celebrating Her great beauty and strength. We can be fidelity to another by holding the belief of their best intentions always.
In cultivation of a patient trait. A slow grace. Maturity.
Kindness is not weakness
Love is not frail
Monotropa; where does life end, where does death begin
Eve was framed. song of the Garden
Make me an instrument
Mamma Mycelium, the alchemist
song of fidelity
moss and stone
Lament of the Waters
white buffalo woman
song of passionflower
song of the swan
song for the waters
song of time
time moves in all directions
a symptom of Love
Made new on an atomic level. Grasping at the enormity
She Who Has Ears let her hear
Music is medicine Our voices are Free Available Transformative Om Go beyond beyond beyond go utterly ever beyond On the Word Ineffable
Follow the spiral of the ear Toward the drum at my core Make me an instrument
In the beginning was sound The first colossus flames of collision Between parent planets Flickered a spiral dance In the womb The Perichoresis Which expanding created the swirl of the inner ear And moving out Danced into material vocal chords liver Teeth Skin
In the beginning was sound Consciousness known to itself As vibration strums across nerves Awake
In the end Will be sound And it seems Hearing will outlast even the beating of the heart
Music is medicine Hum Sing Harmonize Listen To the still small voice Singing always within
Amplify with these precious vocal chords Birthing into the world Creation Culture Reality With every syllable Bring heart and head into Constellation Make me an instrument
Sing child Sing and Listen You are made of music
music is medicine
What Love Endures
Honey hearted persistence. Broken open by the roots of this tree.
Cochlea. Listen deep
cotton worm Moth
cotton root medicine
Death is just a door
Cotton Root. Medicine for America
There was softness Spun into the thread Spiraling around the anger and grief Memories of bloodied fingers and forced wombs.
Acrid and biting Worming into all my dreams marrying my hand to the seed And the seed to the ground
Wasn't that hibiscus blossom White this morning? But now at sunset Dies to red
Like the medicine made from the roots Red
And look how the flower bud is held in little green prayerful hands
So urgent With all the time in the world She gave me her roots
And an ocean of tears
her skin shedding so easily Too easily handing off the burden
Turning everything red
Put your hands on your womb Know the life that stirs Know the beauty of that life It's swirling mystery Fall in love
Know the world you can open has only cruelty Only suffering And in all your love Close that door Send the light away from you To Eternity And beyond the cruel hands of men.
Let it break your heart Look at your children Let it break your heart The sacrifice of that A cosmic reed basket when no flowing water can be found
Wealth was built this way Our wealth All of us
This story saturates our soil and waterways
Wonder about our inexpensive textiles
Wonder about how to heal forced wombs and bloody fingers
Who works without sick days? Our wealth is built upon this back Who is in shackles? Oh listen Who wanting her child can not see how it can be possible? Wrap her in cotton blankets The ones your grandmother made
Wait Listen It sounds like roaring wave a chickadee The rattle of wind and husk Let the medicine of ordinary things Change us Dredging and deepening
Make us ready to be sanctuaries
How do we heal the demon Greed? How do we unwind it from the thread The fabric of society?