windthread

ripening?

i've tried to post this,  or actually,  more than this,   for about 3 hours now.   There were 2 pics that had meaning.    i give.    This one.   about

Standing.

about the phrase that has been so prevalent these last days...weeks...people saying   "let me be clear."

i was  down at the B Garden this morning,   mixing compost and soil,  lost in thought.   From last night when From No Where,  Pink Floyd again,   bringing :   Comfortably Numb. 

 

  listen on  YouTube.   I listened.  over and over.....Comfortably Numb.  it was still with me as i worked this morning,  just moving into the day  

when there was an alert.....a VERDICT had been reached.   I was not expecting that and i have no words how my BODY experienced those words...i don't think i've ever felt what ever it was before.  And then....GUILTY.   ALL THREE COUNTS.

GUILTY.

Listening to Comfortably Numb last night i had thought to ask here....to write here.....a request.....that however much emotional, mental,  spiritual energy  you  can give,  Devote,  to social justice,  racial justice,  earth justice....Please.  Please do.

and now...even more so.   Anything you have to give.  Please DO.   There is a sense that we,   this Peoples that we Are in this America,  we have reached a point of Ripening....a door has maybe opened.    We must not remain comfortably numb.  We need to walk through.

LOVE and LOVE to All.    Just so much Love

 

 

not me

i wish it was

to Live

Alyssia hauled it here with  her New To Her Haul Anything Truck.  (Old Cowboy's truck is limited).  This New To Her Truck will also be the vehicle than will haul this Tin House if that is ever a decision made.

For the years that i've been here,  in between all other things,   dead branches are pulled to stack along the side of the road Up the Hill,  in effort to create defensible space.   For 2 days,  non~stop,  the 3 of them...Jenny,  her man, Alyssia fed the branches in,  chipping them along the side sometimes in piles,  sometimes just amidst the trees.  I should have taken a pic of the chips...,  beauty full but not good for compost or mulch as most are Oak and take an eternity to decompose.   

Emrie and i watched,  but for the most part did out own thing in both Wall and B Gardens.  Maybe it was the drone of the machine,  maybe their almost hypnotic focus on their work,  but the time we shared was on a whole different level.   She found a zillion ways to be Busy....mixing soil and goat manure, moving from container to container,  "measuring",  planting things of all kinds,  singing with long bamboo garden sticks as percussion on the wheel barrow and for the most part....with her  SELf.  I pulled weeds,  extended beds,  cut and placed cardboard, moved rocks.   Instead of  "watch,  Old Nana...."  it was      I'm Busy.  When i called her to look at something....."I can't.  I'm busy".   We were all busy,  gloriously Busy,   independently Whole Heartedly Busy.  

About Half the roadway is chipped.   One more weekend and then we begin again,  hauling and stacking,  more from the interiour of this Hill  land.    Defensible Space.   We are determined.

 

 

and in these days,   the Lilac Bush from just last year has BLOOOOOOMed,  just in time for Jenny's Birthday....she always had a lilac bush...

AND...OH...AND    John Lewis,   the grapefruit tree....John Lewis  has MANY buds and these blossoms. The fragrance,  even next to the Lilac is  UnReal,  intoxicating and Bees arrive and arrive and arrive.

in the circle of seasons

spending at least  4 hours a day.......planting,   creating new garden spaces,   giving water  and most recently,  being STILL,  Receiving,   becoming more and more tuned to how all this Gives.   What it Gives.   My body,  my spirit,  my felt/sense of  the All.  the caregiving...Goats,  chicken, cat, dog.   The feeding of self ,  cooking,  which i love,  and all that entails.

Cloth waits.    a kind of waiting that is not passive,  but energetic.   And when i  focus,   the Joy of that is  deeply felt.   

real and pretend

still With this stalk of Geranium.   Is a teacher in these days on going.   Is it still Alive?   So much appears NOT,  but some appears Yes.   Thoughts about mortality.   

 

and things are seen,   things happen that contribute to these thoughts.   Unasked for,  simply  happening,  but immediately recognized as some kind of  ummmmm,    some kind of  validation that  this thinking is for    Purpose.    Example:

it's a pattern.   At the end of long days of Emrie's being here while Alyssia is taking care of business,    Often she gets the phone and we call people.   or they call us and we answer.   it's most frequently her New Nanna we call,  her father.   They can't talk long because they are at work.  so it's short.   we say we'll call later.   

This time Emrie  and the phone are in this swing.   Alyssia has returned,   is sitting in the fake adirondack  chair,  me in the other swing.    I push Emrie by her feet.  She swings.   Phone rings and she answers.   Alyssia and i are talking,  she talks into phone,  i am not listening to what she says but then she holds out the phone and says

it's for you.    he wants to talk to you,  and i hear her say dad and take the phone and begin talking to her dad...asking him how he is and if he is keeping people safe  (he's  a cop in Houston)  but she interrupts and says...no...it's   YOUR dad.   

i don't remember what all i said but i said for sure,      but...  Emrie....remember?   My dad is dead.   He wouldn't be calling on the phone.   She looks directly and after a long pause says....pretend.   

i hesitate but say ok,  who knows?,   and i say   Hi dad,   how is it going?  Are you doing better?   and some other stuff and then i tell her i'm done talking and that he wants to talk to her and hold the phone out to her....

she takes it and i say....he's a crabby guy.   His name is Bill.

she turns away from us,  receiver to her ear,  face in the privacy of the folds of the swing and says very softly

Hi Bill.   I love you.

shades of

looked through the 11 bags of scraps   (not 9, as previously counted)  and took out pieces i identified as Indigo.   Individually, this may be so.  But together,  i question what i think the color of Indigo actually is.

what i do know is that  this much  "maybe indigo"   made me feel  "swoon~ie".

 

giving water at B,   the bottom of the Lavender blossoms....a deep violet.

it's the 3rd year for the perennials.   They are claiming Place.    All the vegetables,  some already in pots and some still in their seedling cups are so Alive.   There was a sensual "hum"....could say vibration.   Even the old Scrub Oak....same,  as well as the beauty Full  wild weed grass.   All this accented by a breeze that fluttered leaves and blossoms.   Swoon  is the best descriptor .  A very subtle swoon.   And  the "direction" to go very slow.   Take much time.   Let the feel of it,  the sense of it  slowly seep into awareness.  

the cilantro that is in its second season has tall stems with blossoms that will provide coriander seed.   to witness this progression is joy and a very deep satisfaction.    to one day cook with that coriander even more.  

6th Chakra

Acey.   Nichobella   4~12 prompt        

sparklinglotusink.typepad.com

the long beads are Indigo....difficult to photograph,  but they are.   The fish....a flash,  seen,  but maybe not?   Was it a fish?

 

the GodThing

 

as usual...it's not light.   Tea.   sorting through everything in my head,  looking off,  out the Morning Window as shapes of Trees become more and more distinct,   Goats have woken and move past,  Talkie flutters down from her sleeping twig.    SUN  rises from behind the topmost rise of this Hill.   as usual.   and    SUDDENLY

it becomes a Rainbow Vision of what could appear to be finely spun glass,  crystal,  glistening,     ALL OVER   Out There,  all the  Trees are  woven with these Fine Slender Glistening Lines

i can't tell you

i ran out,  sure the phone camera wouldn't be able to see this    but it did.....at least enough for these images here

I've said this before.    How my kids,   Jenny and Jonathan each in their own time of inquiry,  would ask me about God...is God a Real Thing?   What is God?    Probably maybe in part because my mother,  their grandmother,  talked to them about God,  Jesus and those Baptist things.  or....maybe just from their own young life experiences?   I don't know...i never asked.   But what i ended up telling them was that there are such incredibly miraculous things  all around,  myriad miraculous things....Flowers of all manner,  Butterflies,  all patterns and design,  the migration journeys of  birds,  the SONGS of bird tongue,  the astounding magic of mating,  conception, birth....All ways,  All beings,   the thing of Sky   Earth   Wind   Seasons   Sun  Moon  Planets  the Oceans and the vast array of beings therein  Rivers   Stones  and i would go on and on until their maybe 5 yr old minds got tired of listening...and i would sum it all up with my sense of things,   that whateveritis  that  IMAGINES  all that,  sets it into motion,  that Grand and Great Imagination to me would be God.      Emrie right now loves the word     Enjoy.    and i would say   

that it seems to me that Some Thing,  Some Great Consciousness     ENJOYS  all this,  otherwise a brown insect  would be sufficient for a bird.  Nutritious.   A plain flower can produce plain pollen in a plain way and be functional to produce a plain fruit.    a plain single color dog could be sufficient.   a white fish.  

so when the kids came tonight,  i showed them these two pics....i said....this is the God Thing.  in the form of many many many oh so small green  caterpillars....not the "Phillips"   that we have had for the last 2 years,  but this year,   these even smaller simple green ones who spin a single thread from their bodies upon which they are suspended and as the breeze  flows up this Hill,  their single strands move in a horizontal wave to weave weave and weave between the branches.   And SUN,   SUN,   shows us.   

if we look.

double click the pics

 

a gentle day of slow steady work and words between us

 

I changed her water in the kitchen sink.    Blossom arms have turned Up and toward the window,  toward the Sun.   No real sign yet of root(s).   Tomorrow i will take the jug to set in the Wall Garden where she will live if she chooses and if she can.    When Jenny came she laughed.  The top of my head was covered in dry leaves.   

losing it

i get up this morning.  Still dark.   Put  tea water on.    Sit and stare out the window into the Trees,  thinking....I'm losing it.   This dream....seemed to have lasted  all night ,  much came before,  but these scenes, just at the very end,  until i got up:  

at first i have found a really good place to camp...it's under a viaduct....clean of debris and airy and i am happy but right away a couple arrives and points out that it's their place,  pointing around and i see then that there are things already there...belongings... and tho they say i can stay,  i leave.   Arrive at some kind of   "ranch place...several buildings,  fencing.  Many people,  some i know, most i don't but i am not talking to them and i see that we,  or some of us,  are supposed to gather.  It's a wall,  cement but old,  cracked,  mossy,    like the wall of a dam and we mill around it's edge until  He comes....some kind of a guru for a lazy descriptor,   and  he  wants us to line up at the edge of that wall...we do,  loosly,  and all are talking and moving around and i look behind and up,  say 50 ft and am wide eyed to see....a Naga......it is HUGE,  like really HUGE and spread out above on another level of whatever this is.  It's multicolored and shining skinned and Breathing...very visibly Breathing and looking with incredible eyes  its head moving slowly   HUGE...maybe at least  100 ft long..or 200,  30ft high.. at the top of it's uh,  fins,  dragon, serpent,  human type being  moving its head slowly as it looked out over the scene.  And the Guru person tells us that we must jump off the edge of that cement wall,  down...again i'll use the number 50,    50ft down into a large body of water...river , but wide and slow moving  .....i keep saying  But i don't know how to swim   and  i wake up because i have to pee and get up to do that coming back,  lying down and the dream is  "on pause"  as  my dreams happen....and i am standing there,  looking up at the Naga as it lifts up so slowly  and is dissolved up into the Sky  and i am in wonder and then wonder what happened about the jumping into the water...did I jump?   I must have...my hair is wet.     I wake up   and think.....I'm losing it.

i could say these days lately are "hard"  but that's not what they are,  they are....____________....,  there is much going on consciously but i feel that there is much more going on  subconsciously....at the level of Collective  Unconscious...  I wish i could find Carl Jung...become part of the Visions Seminars,  sit and tell him these dreams and bring drawings of them to him, but he's dead and i have no time to draw them anyway...there are the Gardens needing so much,  potatoes to plant

i am losing it....but to FIND some Thing or things....and i sit and finger these scraps that have put themselves together like this over this week...and how i need to Allow .  it takes the willingness to believe that at any single moment or second even,  some Thing or things are aligning ,,,of their own accord

that want to speak.      These scraps talk about this........

and i sit here....it's like sitting with an old time radio...slowly turning the dial,  searching for a station that might be there,  a lot of nothing,  some static and then    if i give it time .....

Margery Knott's post  Trickster in the Skull       trickstershoard.com  April 9                                                                                                 On Being   Bryan Doerries   You are not alone across time   April 8       The Theater of War                                                                                         "the Greek word catharsis...releasing both insight and emotions that have had no place to go,  and creating an energizing relief"                                                                                                                                                                                                            Inside Cup Foods where it seems George Floyd never left.   Sara Sidner    CNN  April 10       

so,  this is how it is for me.  Every day.   I can't write it often.   It takes energy to let the words and images form and  i need that energy to accomplish the days.   But i love what it means to be human,  participating in that.  Participating in These Days as they unfold...wanting to give them my best.  And losing it.  So i can FIND what wants to be found.