March 4, 2012

 

In this place I see a man on a cliff. It is dismal. I see fire bleeding into different layers of the earth.

There is a war going on amongst these beings and the sky is streaked with fire. Some of the beings

are riding the fire streaks.

 

I see a Jesus like figure struggling to retaliate.

 

On a cliff - in a different time and place (though it still speaks of destruction) - there is a wolf.

It is as if the land is struggling with land.

 

There is a long, elongated seed that seems as though it will survive. I smell a musty smell - which

is where the wolf retreats to after seeing this.

 

***

 

Once upon a time there was a God in the Earth and a God in the sky. Both Gods were expressive Gods but the

God in the Earth had the curse of being buried by layers and layers of ground - such that, it took 10,000 years

for his voice to be heard (which was usually felt in earthquakes).

 

The people that lived on the surface of the land were mostly concerned with the Sky God, who had a beard, 

and whose effect on them was more visible. However, over time they became curious about the rumblings

below in the Earth that held them. They were at last able to dig deep enough one day to make contact with 

the Earth God.

 

The Earth God was exuberant and restless, and shot something boldly out of the hole in the earth, which 

hit the Sky God. This angered the Sky God and threatened his power. So began the war between Earth and Sky.

The human beings were caught in the middle of this chaos. Many died. 

 

One man was able to survive by crawling and climbing up the side of a cliff. Up there he met a wise man, who

leaned against the back of a dead tree stump. 

 

"What will we do in the midst of this destruction?" asked the survivor.

 

Said the wise man:

 

"Sit and wait and watch

The air you breathe is you

The earth on which you sit, is you."

 

And so the men sat and watched as the atmosphere waged war.

 

***

 

The primal shaman stands in front of the world tree.

The ancient eagle emerges to show the shaman the boundary between heaven and earth

which is the path the shaman must take to meet the source of creativity.

 

There is a line that goes through the top of the tree and the shaman's head to the source and center of the earth.

 

The shadow falls from the standing shaman. This is the realm of illusion, unreality and attachments.

The line passes through that as well. The shaman stands on and is of the earth, beneath him is the land of dreams

and it is the life blood of the world tree.

 

There are beings that live there,

that also live in the world beneath that, which is unknowable.

The line also passes through this realm.

 

The beings act as intermediaries between dreams and the earth with the source.

The are needed because of this unknowable realm.

 

Even though they exist and are necessary,

that line that exists from the shaman's head to the world tree, still runs through it all.

 

***

 

I travel across the earth,

above and below

and meet the stranger

the view from above

reveals energy rising

from a solid foundation

and

beings sinking down

into the depths

from a solid foundation

 

They walk to the water's edge

Bathed together in the water

with explosions

and blood

expanding everywhere

They hold one another

Rubbing gently

Touching without fear

Skin touching skin

Heart meeting heart

In the midst of the explosion and blood

A calming

all pervasive peace arises

 

no hurry.

 

Great accomplishments achieved,

moment by moment

surrender

delight

drinking eachother's stories

presents

 

Being at home

Being on the adventure

Feeling warmth

They exchanged Eternal time - the now -

with the warmth of blood

Bringing to Both

the ease of living

 

August 2010

 

Once upon a time, we were four and we were so terribly lost. We led ourselves in circles under a nasty molten sky.

            “Where are we? When do we eat?” One asked, because his tummy had begun to rumble like rocks moving in mud.

            “Hush now! No complainin’,” Two said, because she couldn’t stand to hear him whine. She’d been all around the world and seen all kinds of places. Once, she put her whole arm down into a half-collapsed mine shaft, and when she pulled it out again it was stained berry red and covered in ants. Tree explains things like that as “the work of God.” That’s what he says, over and over again, day after day out here, pointing at things as they crest into view: a cloud-whiz skull baking in the sun (the work of god), a barren tree with branches cracked and to the sky (the work of god), a river flowing red with blood (the work of god). Feels like the end of the world out here, and him always chanting “the work of god.” Me, I’m not too worried about it. I had a dream in the night – (and I always believe in dreams) and in it a great forgotten something was leading us into the wind, into the great unknown, with a staff like a divining rod lifted to the sky. Out in the dream, as in life, we missed the shape of the staff, divined nothing through the rod, and saw only her arm, the shape of her clenched hand instead.

 

 

Once upon a time an old dead oak tree remembered his life as a man. A man who came to live on the same acre of forest that the dying tree now lives. It’s life as a man he thought which is much more trying, even in these times when the lives of trees are not kept sacred. As he was reflecting on these thoughts of life as a man , along came a group of people who appeared to be on a hike. When they reached the tree they commented on the state of the dying tree. Of course being a tree couldn’t understand their strange talk. As the others walked away, one girl stayed behind and without using the same language as the others said without words, “you remind me of my great Grandpa, you have such a gentle smile.”

 

FROM THE ALL WORLDS FAIR 2013