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Posts tagged ‘Skin_of_Glass’

It’s a Barn Raisin’!

Night Before
“Now it is the time to know that all you do is sacred.”
I read that the night before the barn was scheduled to arrive when I was very very blue, very alone, very unsupported. No one was going to be here from my world to celebrate, to cheer me on. To be excited with me. Of course I have been keep this somewhat secret so how could I have had that support, but I guess I thought Ric should drop everything and fly out. Then I read the Hafiz, realized I was being childish, and settled right down. I was able to get out of the lonely child head and see that this project will be the source of great joy, peace, deepening, beauty and Beauty for years to come, for me and for others. Read more

Ravens Show Me

Yesterday morning my ravens showed me the right site to build my barn. I walked the track along the top, heard them making a racket in some pinion trees, turned my head and there is was. It was higher up on flatter ground and more secluded that the one I’d been measuring, yet still looking out to Hermit’s Peak. It felt absolutely sweet and right. I went about my day then decided to check again closer to sunset. Would the spot still attract me? And there they were—three ravens hanging in the wind above the clearing, soaring and soaring, calling out from time to time. Read more

Comfort in Practice

My night reading of Koran verses was surprisingly refreshing. I used to find them judgmental—all that ‘do the right thing or be in hell’—but with a new perusing and the leavening of age and experience, that they are right.  They just are. The question is understanding what the ‘right thing’ is. Each sura drops a tiny clue in its bed of poetry to what a right thing is. Read more

Spoilers: Letter to Karleen

Letters are the best! The best. Proper letters, on paper with an envelope and a stamp tempered by time nestled up against other letters traveling across country in trucks or vans or airplanes. Depending on the interlocutor, its like a journal, but witnessed. You toss down your burdens. You aren’t alone with the head buzz of ‘stuff’ (no matter how legitimate), and the time it takes to run a pen across a page slows down expression just enough (to catch a breath?),; as well, there moments of marination between writing and posting the letter. Its a beautiful process. And I felt all that as I read your letter. I felt how different it was from talking with you on the phone, or reading an email or your blog, all of which are equally authentic yet each bounded by different ‘rules’ of time. Read more

I Need This Palace

Late night. The crickets sings. I don’t sleep. I wake, light a candle, and read beautiful Hafiz poems and Koran. My cabin is a cranium, the door a mouth, and the deck its tongue. I walk out of the head, through the mouth, onto the tongue, and fall into space as a song. Quiet settles in me. It grows too cold for the cricket. I close the window and lean toward the candle. Read more

Sponge Bath

I enjoyed this evening’s sponge bath more than usual. I lit a candle and put the blue enamel pitcher and basin on the old wood table. Next to these, Dr. Bronner’s peppermint soap, a blue wash cloth and, for after, a white towel. I washed slowly, listening to a podcast of Radiolab about the emerging neuroscience of embodiment— of proprioception and body-mind sequencing and Air Force pilots’ out-of-body experiences— all rather old news to me. Autumn’s cool evening has come. I had to heat water to keep this from being a chilly bathing. The radio drone, the wind outside, and the water splash were pleasant, soothing, normalizing for me while I methodically washed one part after another.

Morning Prayer

The morning wind blast from the NW. It is chilly for the first time so I’m in two polartechs and Don’s huge sweatshirt, sitting on the sunny deck with my goatskin over me to drink my morning tea and write. Read more

Coming Home: Letter to Kate

I sit in the Pine Grove a bit shocked by all the small purple flowers, tufts of long, tender grass, and feathery, ferny stems springing up from what was a dense, brittle carpet of pine needles when I departed. I am wading in shin-deep greenery! The ground is vaguely springy. The rainy-season has also brought along  other not-so-pleasant shifts—mosquitos. Surprise! There were never any mosquitos in all my prior years in New Mexico. I’m trying to wrack my brain for what good there might be in a mosquito…Now I have to put in screens or forfeit entirely the cool night breeze. Read more