On Our Way

It’s so amazing, the propulsion of real love, of abundance, of harmonious co-creation. Oh how I want to grab everyone and tell them how wonderful it is! I want to dance and sing! How it can be! How it was meant to be at the beginning of the dream, and we’re on our way! I’m so excited! So blessed! Aren’t you excited? Thank you! Everyone and everything that’s gave a little push. Breaking through is so exhilarating! It’s so good, so beautiful!

What an adventure we are beginning.

Epic win = ace! Poker face? Captain, you’ve got a tell, you know, but your secret’s safe with me. I can go between the mavericks and the pirates. We’ll rake it in and enjoy a little whiskey, a little gin. Good things we’ve got planned in the saloon of the first frontier, oh very good things. I think my heart has wings. We’ll be riding for days. Western trails are calling.

This just seems too apt after bringing me thunderstorms Saturday night and sharing and exchanging beautiful trance Sunday night. It’s a story I’ve been tasting bits of since August. I found this on Navajo’s blog. She is one amazing lady in our family of light. It brings me back again to this feeling of my story being interwoven with the Hopi people. After driving through New Mexico, I am not sure how I was able to keep going to make it here. If there ever were a place more soothing to my soul that Nor’Cali, surely, it is there in those painted mesas and azure blue sky, just as my dreams have always promised it would be. Yet, still not the moment of opening my eyes and awakening in the Rockies where every beat of my heart strongly resounded, “HOME.” There has been the past 13 years, a promise to return and an ancient echo of alpine meadows of brightly colored wildflowers fresh from snow melt, I possessing the knowledge of their secret aid to man. Here in the Rockies lay the story of antelope girl and the morning star. More recently has been the aspen ringed meadow in the fall, full on GOLDEN. These lush and ancient dreams guide the weaving of our future, remembering when we saw where we would go in our past. And wasn’t I just reading about Pan, the horned one, turned Christian devil last night? Oh, how I laughed when I read Navajo’s take on this.

“The women welcome him, for he offers the promise of many pleasures,

The men look forward to his arrival, for he brings prolonged virility,

The children happily greet him, for he weaves playful, magical melodies,

The land salutes him, for with him comes the much awaited rains, and

The crops thank him, for he will surely help them deliver a bountiful harvest.”

Kokopelli had been walking for many days when he spied the upcoming Aztec village not far off.  He sought refuge under an almond tree in order to rest and ritually prepare himself for the next days encounters with this distant clan in unfamiliar territory.  After finding a river near-by to wash, Kokopelli set to the task of listening to the land.  He pondered:  What was needed her by her inhabitants?  What spiritual laws, if any, had not been honored?  What was beautiful about this tribe?  What was askew in their thinking?  Nature would reveal all the secrets of these proud Aztecs.

Later in the evening as the tribe slept, Kokopelli took out his flute and began to play a mysterious star tune. The flute helped him to go into a trance-like state so that he could listen to the people’s collective dreams.  In this way, he would be able to discern what he had to offer to the people and this land.  Just before sunrise, satisfied with his findings, Kokopelli slept a rejuvenating sleep.  He would not enter the village until after dusk of the next day.

Dressing himself in an elaborate headdress of vibrant red macaw feathers and a red loincloth, Kokopelli ’s intention, through his costume, was to call forth the energy of fire & fertility.  His allies, the Star Nation, had made it clear of the utmost necessity of infusing this community with his seed.  Kokopelli further proceeded to paint his body with the ancient symbols that called forth the rains.  The people of this land had grown very disgruntled waiting on the rains, and their three sacred crops; beans, squash and corn, were failing fast.

Placing his heavy pack upon his back, a sack filled with intriguing goods & objects from the far away lands in which he had travelled, he proceeded to prepare himself for arrival in this down trodden village.  As he walked towards the people, he played a hauntingly, soft melody to announce his presence. He arrived just as the tribe was starting their evening cooking fires.  All heads turned towards him with curiosity to see who was this mysterious stranger arriving so late in the day.

Recognition was instant.  All tribes from the souther region of the Colorado down to rainforests of Mexico had grown up on the folklore and myths of Kokopelli.  Maidens hid their blushing faces, mothers longingly sighed, young girls ran to his feet jumping up and down with excitement.  The men and boys stood back in awe and jealousy.  Everyone recognized the infamous Kokopelli.  From the time of puberty, both the young girls and boys were taught to carve statues bearing an enormous penis (symbolic of a healthy maleness and prolonged virility) of this famous demi-God.  Mothers would whisper hushed female  stories to their daughters of Kokopelli’s renown sexual prowess.  Young men would flatter themselves by calling their penis’ Kokosticks or they would boast of their sexual exploits as a Kokonight.  It was well-known through the tribes that baby’s born of Kokopelli’s seed were blessed with special talents.  Any woman chosen by Kokopelli to be his consort, was honored by the tribe, throughout her entire matriarchal lineage, as a favorite of the gods.

The chief of the village immediately called his counselors to build a communal celebration fire or their honoured guest as this surprising evening now promised joy, stories, sharing, laughter, enthusiam and some much-needed hope to this weary tribe who were facing famine & drought.  The villagers danced, performed, sang and told stories late into the night for their welcome visitor, Kokopelli.  When it was Kokopelli’s time to share, he wove a performance worthy of a true magician.  With flute in hand, he sang into existence an atmosphere of another world.  Rhythmically dancing, he entranced the crowd and took their spirits to the Stars.  At various moments in his song and dance, he would remove a sacred object from his sack that mesmerized and dazzled the people.  When his lungs were exhausted, and the people filled up, Kokopelli wrapped his flute in a woven cloth, kissed it and offered it up to the Great Star Nation,  “This flute carries the music of the Great Star Nation to the Great Earth Mother and calls forth the Thunderbeings to make love to her.  In their love-making, we ask that these lands will be renewed with rain”, exclaimed Kokopelli.

A cool breeze began to blow, the  fire pit ignited a sparkle of embers as lightning flashed across the sky and thunder sounded in the background.  The people exploded into sounds of disbelief and excitement, wonder and awe.  Everyone ran to prepare their water vessels for the oncoming rain.  Everyone except for one lovely lady.  A married woman named Jasmine remained with her two small children.  Her husband loomed not far behind her.  Kokopelli walked to her side.  “Why do you not run to fill your water vessels”, he asked?  I heard your flute last night, it called to me, it told me to prepare for the rain.  My pots have already been placed out”, she replied.  Kokopelli smiled!  This woman was who he was to leave his seed with, she had already been chosen for him.

Kokopelli turned to her husband as he pulled two small flutes from his bag, gifts for the children.  He placed his flute in the husbands’ hands.  “This is my most sacred possession, my lifeline to the Stars, from whence I come, and my musical instrument in communicating goodwill to the people and the lands in which I travel.  I ask that you guard it with love, dignity and respect, just as I shall treat your wife in our time together.”  The husband of Jasmine accepted this honor.  “My flutes presence in your home, albeit short, will bless it with a magical starlit essence from this day forth.  Whatever you ask of the Star Nation, within reason, shall be granted.  If your children sleep with it near their beds over the next nights, they will be infused with my musical talent and they will, by osmosis, know, without study, how to play and master their own flutes.  This is my gift to you,” said Kokopelli.  The husband gracefully took leave of his wife and Kokopelli.

The Aztecs say that this union brought forth a great spiritual leader, one who knew how to invoke the thunder and lightning beings at will so that the tribe was never fearful or hungry again.  It was said that this spiritual leader had two talented master musician brothers who always assisted him in calling forth the elements.

“Kokopelli play for me,

So my heart may sing,

Magic flute of mystery,

Fruitful dream you bring.

Song of Aztlan, Fertile Fire,

Canyons of my mind,

Sacred Union,

Heart to Heart,

Speaks of the Divine.”

(Poem quoted from Jamie Sams, Sacred Path Cards)

(Stroy adapted from Jamie Sams, Sacred Path Cards)

Baby, I am so grateful for the light you have brought and bring and will bring into my life. I thank you, I thank God for moments like these.

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Leadership

I was having some thoughts about leadership today, like how great it would’ve been to have my power acknowledged when I was younger. Then I decided it was all bullshit. This Art House thing and baby mama drama is bullshit. Teagan is a very powerful soul, and he must’ve only needed a mother for two years. I know that he’s already onto her games. But it still hurts me, because I know he misses me and he’s my son and I miss him, but I am not going to let that whore manipulate me into buying that house for her. No money bullshit. No legal bullshit. I am not participating in that system!

It’s time to take my tipi into the Rockies, homeless in Humblodt, couch surf the cascades, light-adorned trailers in western Kentucky, but I’m not buying into her shit, the old shit, the bull shit.

Family isn’t about blood. It’s about heart. It’s about soul. I’ve made new family, but I want my baby boy away from her, away from her mother. I wish that I had the resources to take him now, but I don’t. I wish that I had the resources and that she would let me take him. Since she weened him, she’s worked hard to make sure he wasn’t her responsibility, just her cross to bear so people would pity her and so she could have an excuse to fail.  I suppose that if she fails again karma will do it’s old job in the old deadworld. If some entities ceased to BE the universe would be such a freer, easier, more beautiful place. Sometimes all the light is gone. Sometimes every seed is destroyed by overwhelming darkness.

Well, the in-between time has been shitty. I never wanted to get further than Clovis, but passion pushed me back here, where you have yet to leap into nothinginess and shine, shine, shine. Where accountability lags and fear hangs on. Western Kentucky? Western Tennessee? Are you ready? Let’s do this thing then! Good-bye Deadworld, again! My sweet son, when you make it home, you will find me. God’s grace keep you safe until we meet again.

I think that’s where I was going with the leadership thing. Accountability. In Cali, if someone doesn’t do something, no one sweats it. If they really want it done, they eventually do it themselves and there’s no begrudging or hating or calling people out. It’s harmonious and flowin’. Exactly perfect, and I’m gonna make it happen here.

ONE TO GROW ON, WELL, FLOW ON BROTHAS AND SISTAS, FLOW ON!

Growing Starseeds

I want to GROW!

Take that to mean whatever you like. I desire it on so many levels, so many layered meanings. I think today will be about slipping into that new love level. The cotyledon is breaking through the testa.

When we can move away from woundedness and trauma and lack, we begin to open to the truth of our existence which is that we are provided for and cared for in Universal Love, if we could only move away from the dramas of lack and trauma and perceive the Love!

In the New Earth energy, as Awakened beings we know that we live in this moment, and that we have Choice in this moment as to how we will think and behave and what we will do. We cannot give over responsibility for our actions to some event that happened in an illusionary past. The mind enjoys that, it allows us to deflect responsibility and avoid the responsibility of Choice. And indeed, being Awakened and being Conscious means that we are Responsible for our Choices at every moment, and that we have the capacity to make new choices at every moment. If we fail to make choices then we enter into inertia and stagnation, and we do fall out of the Flow of Cosmic Grace. Choices are the actions that we take in order to allow the Flow of Love to manifest our desires and needs. They are like direction signals for the Divine to show how and what we desire in life. Choices are Love and Life in action.

If there is any great shift and change in our Being and the way in which we live, as we come to Conscious Awakening, it is the understanding that we live in a Collective Dream that is created by all of us on many levels. We are not “in control” and the more we release the need to control and manipulate, and the more we learn to make choices within that Collective Reality, the more easily we can Align with the Flow of Divine Abundance and Love and Peace that is always there. When we can feel that Flow of Love, then we can easily make Choices that ensure that we align with that Flow and can Create and Draw on the Energy of Divine Love.

The release of control does not mean that we accept that we will spin into chaos and lack. Quite the opposite. Once we relinquish the need to control from the limited perception of the mind, and move into an Acceptance of the ultimate Good and Benevolence of All Life, we move into the vibration and frequency of Harmony and Balance, of Divine Will and Order, of the Light Codes of Divine Power that shape the Flow of Abundance into Blessings and Grace. And the more choices are offered to us as conduits for these Divine Blessings of Love!

But the key here really is the ability to just “give up” and to surrender and accept that at times we need to allow periods of readjustment and realignment.

This Country Shit

I am gaining weight here. My 31s and 32s make me feel like a sausage. My 34s wont’s sag so that they are long enough. Ugh! Get me back to the mountains! I wonder if it’s not mostly water weight from the toxicity here.

The Scilla

I was talking with J.B. about why there were daffodils everywhere, but no tulips or other bulbs at the homesites. Then I got to thinking of the scilla in Wisco and how they are the flower that most reminds me of Neira and then I was thinking about the strange Lincoln Creek neighborhood I was canvassing in last spring and how it was all ghetto now, but there was this energy there. That energy, and I felt it a little at the farm last weekend and at the magical homesite near old Model last Wednesday. It is latent here, and although the grid is not as fluid and as in flux as it was when we moved into the art house, and I certainly don’t have amazing creatures here like Teagan and Miss Emily and Jesse to work with, I think I can awaken these ancient nodes, or even just ghost traces of the energy left by previous occupants. It’s strong around many of the ponds because the ponds were intentionally created and are in harmony with the natural surroundings. In the absence of many natural springs, they serve as mini portals.

So what I had envisioned, even as far back as the Texas border was that I would go camping with my rainbow warrior before he heads out west to ground these energies in me and work with the elemental grid to node, and that we could draw off of the transmission towers from Fenton that my angel and I set up before I met him. I know he gets it, but sometimes I find us diverging frequencies and then I begin to worry that I have strayed from my high heart, fallen off the edge of the blade,  and what have you. Or that he has gotten lost in the forest. Or sometimes only that he becomes irrelevant to the story at hand because he is working with higher energies that I have not yet mastered the conceptualization of. This last thought begins the lovely meldfuck. Must be on track here.

So I believe I made up the meldfuck term to describe that thing that Ken did to me, how I knew he loved me, that spiritual magnetism.

Girl, you’ll be the death of me.

Now I know exactly how he felt when he said that, with the unspoken, I love you so. All the while I know that you know that I know you know, but why we conspired against ourselves or refused to sacrifice or compromise. You did not have to go that far, to show you were holy. That will never happen, until it did. And could it ever again be like that, be better than that, so inexplicable? Oh sweet meldfuck!

And then the be-bop sax player, how where I am, trying to breathe the Shasta into my surroundings and stay true to my creed as a naiad, a keeper, a guardian and my playful deep core spirit. He will play with me! He will play! And he doesn’t seem to think it’s weird or out there, not too much. He’ll humor me for the sake of curiosity. It’s like an infusion to him. Let’s wander around downtown Jackson, the deadest downtown around, the tumbleweed phantoms swirling in the ether, and we find this fabulous Mexican restaurant just like it was meant to be. And let’s get wine and let’s go out to the cabin and let’s listen to frogs and let’s weave cosmic voodoo star shit let’s listen to “Little Wing” on L.P. let’s fall asleep in the blush of wine and the draining rush of play and the rain started as the I stared at the trim and peace washed over me maybe it’s not so bad I’m not in California so let’s do cut ups since it’s raining and the music stuff isn’t going to work without my Sony. So we did cut ups and put the important words in Mason jars and it was perfect, almost, half-regretting that he kissed me (didn’t he know? how it is how it was? how I wish that it could be between our friend and me?) and fully regretting the apple wine and my soul was satisfied. The aural expressions and half formed translations, soul singing because I got to play, but not meldfuck.

And have I screwed it all up again? Or can we dream outside the box? Because if both of them can understand where I came from to be here, then why not? Go on as three? Maybe 4, this is the forth lesson or someday even more. One love, one heart, interchanging and exchanging soul songs.

Still on the Battlefield

I struggle still with this. Longing to let go. Longing to admit I was mistaken, or that I can be okay with things always being this way, but Spirit won’t let me. For once, letting go, peace is not the aim of F.L.O.W. It is within the mirror of self-discovery that I must battle for a new unfoldment. It’s digging in for the long haul. Going the 14th mile when your legs are jelly. Buttoning up and tying down for the winds of change. I dare you, to take me on. I dare you. Breathing gentle healing into wounds. I am strong. Practicing patience.

But the old me is screaming, “No!” The old me, the pre-California, pre-frontier me is shouting, begging, crying for a path of less resistance. In the past things that were as they should be just fell into place. It seems counter intuitive to me to fight. Flight would be a better remedy. Sitting on my ass, ain’t no move at all.

And in my core is the Fuck this! I just want to go home! With home apparently now being Mt. Shasta. I cannot make anyone else’s choices for them, and hasn’t the window long since passed? Long, long since passed. Why should I feel guilty for attempting to escape this? Or at least hold the ache at bay? I am beginning to slip into the old patterns of hating myself for any attachment at all. I am ruminating on the negative, clearly this is not going to work, but we already suspected that, so why am I angry and disappointed. Get over it, right? So I want to go home.

But underneath the plum tree last June is where this all began to take root. Why can’t I node here? This place is like kryptonite to me.

Well, now that I have bitched and moaned about how the land between the rivers is like the ghetto rejected Appalachia, I feel better and will try with concerted effort to ground down the Shasta vibe full time with sunshine and cut ups and random adventures through the forest, never forgetting who I am, even in the near absence of moving water. What do naiads from Neira do? They make western Kentucky into Neira, of course. And start from the similarities rather than bemoaning the lack of WONDER. They leave wonder in their footfalls. NODE IT! TRANSMISSION BEGINS! Breathing spring in the first frontier saloons while keeping an eye out for pirates and the siren call of the seductive intergalatic elementals. COME HOME! LET’S PLAY! RESTORATION AND INTEGRATION!

808 and blueberries at Will Flora

808 and blueberries again today, also re-enacting a dream from last summer setting up a portable toilet at Will Flora. I was wondering about that strange dream, and so it happened. Now I am BEAT, wishing I had a wife to cook me dinner and give me a massage when I got home from work, but glad for beer and chilling listening to Eric Mire Band. Still missing my bed and Teagan and Quinn, missing Cali, and a bit overwhelmed with Kentucky/Tennessee. Thursday is not looking so good weatherwise. Time seems to be speeding by. I’ve been wondering about Wyoming and Colorado. I think I am going back to Redding or Mt. Shasta if that doesn’t work out rather than going back to Milwaukee. My soul is more at peace there, in spite of the lack of homey type things.

I have to deal with car insurance and money shit this week. Car insurance is a tricky thing when you are a gypsy and don’t know where you will be in 2 months or a year. UGH! But grateful that I should have the fundage to address these nightmares.

Wishing I had phone service for good night conversations while wishing for simpler times. What a contradiction I can be.

Insomnia and the Hole in the Universe

Upon these travelers who make their way without maps or guides, there breaks a wave of exhilaration with each unexpected change of plans. This exhilaration is not a whore who can be bought with money nor a neighborhood beauty who can be wooed. She (to persist in personifying the sensation as female) is a wild and sea-eyed undine, the darling daughter of adventure, the sister of risk, and is is for her rare and always ephemeral embrace, the temporary pressure she exerts of the membrane of ecstasy, that many men leave home.

Ah, wanderlust, who was the fire among the dreamers trying to kid? Settle? Any thought of calm was just the eye in the hurricane.

And thinking of holes in the universe, at times I wonder, as I wander, if I weren’t the one tearing a rent in the fabric of reality. I am homesick no doubt. I wonder why I have come to this place. I lay down, close my eyes and am flooded by images of snow-topped volcanoes, rushing water, and sun-drenched ponderosa scraping the sky. I chaff at any missions that have sent me here. I cannot get away to find myself here and begin to wonder who I am. Sometimes I see reflections and laugh because they please me much now. I cry because I still do not believe that he knows, believes or is even capable of fathoming the depths of my desire and the light of the bell-like laughter he is capable of releasing from me. I weave a story as that figment takes me far over the edge past the point of no return. I shudder in release from this lust craze and feel the bottom drop out with the realization once again that it is merely my mind’s creation, and that there is no one who knows my mind.

The Beauty of Losing Cohesion

The give-away teaches us to release, without attachment, our greatest possessions and it teaches us above all else, that the earth is eternally fertile and all our needs will be provided for again and again through the community.  Whenever one feels lack, of anything, Spirit counsels giving away a valued possession.  Are you in need of health?  Give-away!  Are you in need of love?  Give-away!  Are you in need of money?  Give-away!  Through the eternal spiritual laws of energy and return, all ones needs will be met.

From Navajo’s Blog.

Who doesn’t love presents? The more you give away, the more you will have to be grateful for! 😉 This is what the abundance paradigm is all about. Sometimes it’s hard to be brave and do this, so start with baby steps. It is very liberating once you get further along.

One thing about right now is my inability to see the future. Everything can change completely in a moment. It is with a glad heart I anticipate the future. Non-attachment allows a greater possibility of outcomes to manifest. 🙂

I have about a million other things I want to share and a million things I want to do, but right now, I think it’s time to eat.

Equinox

Manifesting food, love, synchronicity, and creativity thus far. I think those are going to be this year’s themes. Can’t hardly wait!

The important themes of the moment: Abilene, Texas, blueberries, 808, Wild Fermentation. We will explore these themes later.

Mad de j’ai vu while sitting cutting up a 1970 issue of Southern Living on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. I have to laugh at being on the right track remembering past futures even while wondering if it’s not going to be a big awkward mess. Lessons. This is the 4th lesson. 1-2-3-4. Hahaha!

It felt like the shortest weekend ever.

I am homesick. When we blew up Neira in July by opening the portal, at least this is the assumption I’m operating under, I started this transference process of re-creating Neira in Siskiyou. Now Siskiyou is home. Farmers markets, fermented foods, blueberries, and peach cobbler…. cut-ups, 808s, re-recording in the universe studio.

“Try, Try, Try”

Pop tart
What’s our mission

Do we know
But never listen
For too long
They held me under
But I hear
It’s almost over

In Detroit
On a Memphis train
Like you said it’s
Down in the heat and the summer rain of
The automatic gauze of your memories
Down in the sleep at the airplane races
Try to hold on
To this heart
A little bit longer

Try to hold on
To this love aloud
Try to hold on
For this heart’s
A little bit colder
Try to hold on
To this love

Paperback scrawl your hidden poems
Written around the dried out flowers
Here we are still trading places
To try to hold on
Pop tart
Can you envision
A free world
Of clear division
For too long
They held us under
But I know
We’re getting over
In Detroit
With the Nashville tears
Like you said it’s
Down in the heat with the broken numbers
Down in the gaze of solemnity
Down in the way you’ve held together
To try to hold on
To this heart
A little bit closer
Try to hold on

To this love aloud
Try to hold on
For this heart’s
A little bit older

Try to hold on
To this love aloud
And we are still alive
Try to hold on
And we have survived
Try to hold on
And no one should deny
We tried to hold onto the pulse of the feedback current
Into the flow of encrypted movement

Slapback kills the ancient remnants
That try to hold on
Try to hold on
To this heart alive
Try to hold on
To this love aloud
Try to hold on
And we are still alive
Try to hold on
And we have survived
Try to hold on
Pop tart
You never listen
Skinned knees
Try to hold on
Stop start
What’s our mission
Skinned knees
Try to hold on

Uh-huh
This is beginning to hurt
This is beginning to be serious
It used to be a game

Now it’s a cryin’ shame
‘Cuz you don’t wanna play around no more
Uh-huh
Sometimes I push too hard
Sometimes you fall and skin your knee

I never meant to do
All that I’ve done to you
Please, baby, say it’s not too late
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, getchoo, getchoo
Uh-huh
oh oh
You know this is breakin’ me up
You think that I’m some kind of freak, uh-huh
but if you’d come back to me
then you would surely see
that I’m just foolin’ around
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, getchoo, getchoo
I can’t believe
What you’ve done to me

What I did to them
You’ve done to me
Ohh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, uh-huh
Getchoo, getchoo, getchoo
Uh-huh
This is beginning to hurt
This is beginning to hurt
This is beginning to hurt
This is beginning to hurt

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