Spirit Speak

When I was a young girl I learned that a poem was something that rhymed. Cat in the Hat. When I got older poems became un-rhymed and seemingly loose, but with a whole lot of rules attached to them. Rhyming was almost sneered at, and so became a dying art, unless you were Doctor Seuss or Sheil Silverstein. I have gone to readings and participated in poetry festivals as the token musician invited, and have watched poets bleed their life stories; thoughts, feeling, indignities, avoiding at all cost, the dreaded rhyme… Well, I am hereby confessing that I LOVE THE RHYME. I am an expert at it. I break all the rules of meter and run with the flow, and just when you think it is not going to happen, ah…, there it is! The satisfying feel of the rhyme. Where there is rhyme there is music. There is song and rhythm and complexity. It takes skill to create the rhythm of the rhyme. It is an art that deserves respect and acknowledgment. Maybe that will be my next crusade… Save the world…Save the Rhyme…

Duffy died yesterday, somewhere between his Cozy’s monster burger at lunch and dinnertime, he checked in for his new assignment. He was 62 years old and the only family he had was his sister and the crew at Cozy’s Road House. He arrived at Cozy’s every morning at opening and read his paper. He went back at lunchtime to get his daily monster burger and back again at dinnertime to sit at the bar and socialize with the regulars. He always stayed to closing to make sure the bartender left safely. The bartender is my 22 year old daughter, Kelsyn. Duffy didn’t drink. He worked as a painter and did odd jobs. He participated in life. He was kind.

Theresa Ghandi died at home three weeks ago. She was surrounded by family and friends. It was hard work and a long time coming. Theresa was a social activist and was full of ideas and opinions and could research any subject and become an expert. She was incredibly articulate and a skilled writer. Many people thought she was a pain in the ass. As an experienced pain in the ass myself, I respected this quality in her. Politicians would see her coming and shudder. Theresa was a pit bull who understood that speaking out and doing the right thing was not always going to be popular. I admired her courage and her tenacity. Theresa showed up for her own life yet the world was not ready for her this time around.

As human beings we spend much of our time thinking about what is going to happen or thinking about what has happened… We are the only species on the planet that lives in the past or the future. While we are contemplating forwards and backwards, we forget to live right now. The moments we have fall away when we don’t choose to be present and use them.

I was a strange child… One day, when I was four years old my mom came upon me lying on the ground. I was very still. She bent to me and asked “Beverly, what are you doing”? My eyes were closed and without looking at her I replied, “I am listening to my heart drink my blood”. It is something I have always known, yet have not always practiced; when we are very still and silent we can hear things we might ordinarily miss.

Strange children usually grow into strange adults. (dictionary definition: strange:  unusual, extraordinary, or curious; odd). One time, an angry neighbor, told me that I did not have the right to live where “normal” people live. Being Chemically Injured when I was in my early 20’s changed my life irrevocably. Producing too many killer T cells, my body sees everything as the enemy, sometimes even its own organs, so even when I tell it to remember being “normal”, it defies me. Over the years I have developed techniques to navigate through the “normal” world so I can participate fully, retreating back to my safe space to detoxify my body. Theresa and I shared this as a disorder, as do many chemically compromised individuals. This anomaly in my body caused me to be acutely aware of this moment as the only moment I have. And so I show up for it.

Being human is a task. If we are human, we have signed up for it. We have made contracts and we have desired outcomes. None of this means that it is all predetermined, it means we choose. And because most of us are not practiced at gazing into the crystal ball, mostly we choose without the exploration of our other senses.

We surround ourselves with noise and chatter, with things that fall away. We are alone yet never alone. We are always connected to each other and the heart beat of this planet. We all share our genetics, DNA, and connection to that which is bigger than us. We are inside and outside at the same time. Our thoughts and our feelings flow from us in solid waves and connect in passing to those around us. We come through the womb individually. We exit individually. Yet it some way we all feel the births, the rebirths, the transitions. We just are not still enough to realize the experience.

Close your eyes…Lie still… Do you hear it? That is your heart…Drinking your blood…

The house I live in is made out of rastra and adobe. It is a fortress that has passive solar gain. As the day heats and cools that house cracks and rumbles and since everything is a hard surface; walls, floor, ceiling, the cracks and rumbles reverberate around the house. In the daylight they aren’t noticeable really, but at night when the silence is even more present a creak and crack sounds like an intruder. Yoda and Jack often think the noises are something other that they are and Yoda starts frantically barking. Because she is 3 1/2 lbs of canine fury, Jack begins a low and no nonsense growl… I have a heart-attack three or four times a night. I keep the door closed to whatever room we are in to keep the heat in. When the two of them stand barking at the door I figure I must go out and meet the enemy, so I muster my courage and fling the door open armed with a 3 lb dog leading the way. Yoda runs ahead yapping with gleeful self righteousness. I have no idea what goes on in her teeny tiny head, but she is determined to protect me. Jack, following at a more dignified pace, realizes that Yoda has led him astray, yet again, and that there are no intruders to tear limb from limb. He lays down and looks regal while I search all the closets, inside the showers, every corner of the house, and under the stairwell. Heart thumping wildly I call them back into the heated room and we begin the sequence all over again. It is true, I am not totally comfortable on my own in the middle  of thousands of acres filled with sinister elk, cows, and jack rabbits. You never know when a irate critter will knock down the door. But I have my Japanese gardening implements, so I am safe!

I did think that once I got to New Mexico in the high desert, I would have a deep desert experience, going inward, finding quiet and repose… Evolving into my next incarnation… OMMMMMM… But so far I find it is more relaxing driving through rush hour traffic in Seattle.  However the New Mexico sky is stunning, the rocks call to me, and God told me to come. I am patient…

The snow gods heard me and dropped down another 5 inches of snow last night.

There is something sacred about being the first and only person to walk through a new snow fall. It is a meditation in itself. The snow is like a fine white powder and is clean, clean; quite a contrast to the red soil underneath. It is one of the things I love about this place; the red rocks and red soil. It is so silent here that you can hear the ants moving under the tremendous ant hills. The mounds are enormous and are the only thing showing through the snow besides the Juniper Cedars and Pinyon Pines because the ant colonies produce so much heat.

There was one big cat track by the front door, a Bobcat or Lynx. Just one. She must have come while it was still snowing and the rest of her tracks must have gotten covered; or maybe not. Maybe she is a shape changer…

The scrub jays made an appearance today as did someone’s three horses. One had a broken rope around his neck. They paid me know mind when I went out to talk to them. It is a constant parade of life.

I have been thinking about boundaries.  There are no boundaries for the wild life or domestic livestock here. They just wander around wherever they please. Boundaries can mean so many things. Sometimes they are something we do not cross. Sometimes they are something that should be eliminated, like the border boundary between the US and Mexico, and the US and Canada. Sometimes they are something we set up for ourselves to avoid controversy or discomfort. Sometimes they stop us from taking a risk. Sometimes they stop us from taking a stand. Sometimes they give us an excuse to allow cruelty. Sometimes they remind us to be observant, co-operative, and compassionate. Sometimes they stop us from invading another’s space; sometimes they create a chasm to wide to cross.

When I was twenty I worked in a bank in Vancouver, Washington. I was a teller. One day the bank manger came back from lunch. He had been drinking. He walked up behind me and grabbed my breasts. I didn’t know what to do. I was young and embarrassed. He was in a position of power and I had not yet grown into the bitch I would become. I mean, the self assured, confident, woman I am now… That day I learned something about boundaries. I determined I would never take from someone, something they didn’t freely offer.

We live in a confusing world. We are supposed to move beyond the confusion and evolve, yet even Jesus, who was the Christ, who was fully human, asked in confusion, “why have you forsaken me”… It is ok not to have the answers; to doubt, to feel at a loss, because on the other side of all that is hope, and generosity of spirit.

Maybe one of our most important lessons is learning when to cross a boundary and when to honor one.

It was warm today. I will be sad when the snow begins to melt. It has told me so many stories. Today I found what I think are cougar tracks. They are much bigger than the lynx or bobcat tracks, and are so different from a dog’s footprint. Cats walk light in the snow and have rounded pads that don’t sink in deep. I was excited to find them and followed until they, poof… Just disappeared! Jack and I explored deep in the canyon and found some caves. I thought it would be exciting to explore them…until I remembered the cougar tracks. I decided to leave it for another day.

It was an event filled animal day.

The sun rose and the ravens landed on the roof just like they do every morning, thunk, and then a swoop of their heavy wings and they took flight over the canyon.

I heard cows this afternoon… New Mexico is a fence-out State. If you don’t want beasties wandering on your property you have to fence them out, otherwise you can wake up in the morning to a herd of cattle. So today I heard cows. I put on my boots and ran outside. I could hear them mooing plaintively down in the canyon. When I got to the edge of the cliff I realized that they were up on a ridge above the canyon. One, two, three, four different cow voices stuck somewhere in the snow. Then far off in the distance I heard an insistent truck horn, way up, maybe 5 miles away. I realized after a while that this belonged to the cattle men trying to give these four cows a noise to orient on to find their way back to the feeding ground. Everywhere you go on the roads there are cattle guards designed to stop the cattle from crossing. However, the cows aren’t stupid. They walk around the cattle guards and cross wherever they damn well feel like crossing. There are more cows in New Mexico than people.

Four elk passed in front of us about 20 feet away. They are as big as refrigerators. They paid no attention to us.

And then, as we were walking, Jack stopped all of a sudden, buried his head in 4 inches of snow and frantically started sniffing. He knew he had found something great. Well, he did, but as I watched, a very large Jack Rabbit appeared and crossed about two inches in front of Jacks face. He never saw the rabbit as it bounced away. He was too busy sniffing in the snow.

So these are my lessons:

The sun always rises.

Sometimes the path that is right in front of us can disappear, just like that!

Sometimes we are too busy moaning instead of listening for those who will show us the way.

Sometimes we are invisible to those who have bigger energy.

Sometimes we can’t see what is standing right in front of us, even if it jumps, because we simply won’t look up.

The sun did not rise over the Pedernal and shine through the window today at 7AM because it was snowing. I slept till 9AM.

Jack is a 170 lb Tibetan Mastiff. In Tibet these majestic dogs are flock guardians and patrol vast territory, thousands of acres. It is built into their genetics. Because the keeper of the flocks are usually women and children, these Mastiffs have a DNA distrust of stranger men. Jack and I go for a walk every morning and evening and before he can get busy he has to sniff around 5 acres…That warms him up, gets his elimination system primed and ready. Then something distracts him and we have to start all… over… again. It takes hours of exploration just to get Jack to pee.

The great thing about virgin snow is that it is a clean slate. Every story is written plainly. Today in the fresh snow while I was encouraging Jack to “get busy”,  he was distracted by some enticing odor and we found enormous animal tracks. While I was wondering if it might be a bear and if it was wise to continue, Jack was pulling me forward as he surged through the snow. What I saw were the big tracks and then next to them, cat tracks tracking the big tracks. Maybe a Bob Cat or Lynx. I wasn’t paying attention to Jack. If I had been I would have seen him scoop up his prize as he started to chew it… The delicacy, elkish poopish; otherwise known as elk dung. Yep, the cat was tracking an elk, Jack was tracking the cat who was tracking the elk. I was being hauled along…

Life is like that. Sometimes we just allow ourselves to be hauled along…

Jack started down a very steep part of the mountain… I put on the skids… I wasn’t in control exactly, but I wasn’t been hauled down the cliff face either. Jack turned and looked at me accusingly and then “got busy” at an impossible slant down the hill. Jack doesn’t lift his leg like smaller male dogs. I guess trying to balance on three legs at 170 lbs makes no sense to him. Jack is all about his own “highest good” He doesn’t obey. He cooperates…if he feels it is for his highest and best good. So Jack squatted and I dug the elk poop out of his mouth…

Sometimes our prizes are taken away from us and sometimes others have clearer vision on what might be for our highest and best then we do.  And mostly we are never, ever, in complete control.  Even if we feel like we are. Although the universe allows us our illusions. Even the most evolved, educated, put-together-well, articulate, savvy, cool, individual, has one small flaw and one tremendous grace: humanity. We are all made up of the same genetic code. We don’t eat Elk Poop, and we don’t try to balance on three legs to eliminate…unless we are under the influence of something…

Sometimes the tracks are clear and sometimes they have been camouflaged and crisscrossed. Sometimes our path is smooth and easy, sometimes it is a rough tumble down a hillside, and sometime we toss rocks in front of us, just to proove we can go over them… I don’t know why! But we all do it. Even if we do it in secret.

So if we can get rid of the secrets, if we can get over the shame, the embarrassment, the blame, the judgment, the prejudice, the need to be right, the fear of failure; if we can get over all that, then we can begin the journey upwards. We can evolve into a world of balance.

I think it is time to stop sniffing around for the perfect place, and begin to create that place. I think it is time to “get busy”…

I look into the glass, I see my life line traced, a young girl locked inside, a much older persons face…

When I was 30 years old I asked my Mom what it felt like to get older older. She told me that sometimes she looked into the mirror and wondered who that “old bag” was looking back at her. I had smooth, almost flawless skin then…That was 25 years ago. My Mom is now 86, I am now 54. Sometimes I look in the mirror and wonder who that old bag is looking back at me.

It isn’t easy, is it? One minute we are stumbling on brand new legs trying to figure out how to keep our balance and the next minute we are stumbling on elderly legs, still just trying to keep our balance.

Balance…That is what is all about. Give and re-give. Energy for energy.

The world is not in balance. Pachamama, Gaia, is trying to correct that. Either we change, or we will be tossed off. We are not the most important life form on this planet. No matter what we think. We are just a part of the whole.

But what if time bends? What if we move backwards and forwards at the same time.  What if time is exceedingly patient and is simply waiting for us to come back into balance?

Isn’t that where God lives? Is that what God is? Balance…

What if time does wait?

There are things that we are not told when we are children, like…sometimes people aren’t going to like you. or that giving birth is messy and painful, or that when you get older not only are your breasts going to sag, but your knees will sag as well. We don’t come with a “how to live” manual, so I think maybe my mission, if I choose to accept it, is to write that manual. The one that allows us grace and forgiveness for being so utterly human. The one that reminds us to rejoice as time is etched on, what used to be, perfect skin. The one that reaches past or underneath the wu wu, the feel good, the don’t worry, and allows us to be confused, to not have the answers, to make the mistakes, to feel the fear, to say the wrong things, to wear the wrong clothes, to not be perfect, and to still be worthy of love and joy. That is what I am going to write about. Not becoming more god-like, but becoming fully human…

If I could give you the moon, I’d wrap it in ribbons, and sing you a tune, I’d lay it at your feet and wait for your smile…Your smile so sweet…

The moon in New Mexico on a cold winters night, with 50 million stars so close you can reach out and touch them. The silence is absolute. The stillness broken only by the furtive walk of a Bobcat slinking over the snow. The house echos…The floors are tile, the walls; adobe. The floor is warm. The water is a precious commodity; not to be wasted.The nearest neighbor is a mile away. The driveway is two miles long. The Pedernal is right outside the window. The landscape is stark and stunning. Peace lives here..and for now, so do I. 1/26/10