Thursday, December 23, 2010

An Adventure!

Greig took me on an adventure yesterday! He called around Noon to tell me he was "turning left instead of right". I asked what he had in mind? He said he was going to go find the snowline. *pause on my part* "With me?" "Well, I can't think of anybody else I'd go driving around for...."

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!! He's sooooo romantic!

So he came to pick me up, and we turned left instead of right at the bottom of "my" hill. We drove about an hour or so from my house, into 1 foot stuck beautiful snow. he got to polish up his "snow skidding" skills ("Don't worry, Creampuff, I'll get us home safe.") We almost made it to Bagby Hot Springs, but it was getting quite dark, so we put chains on and he got to practice snow chain installation, un-entanglement, and removal skills.

I even got some new pictures. I'll put them p as soon as I get 'em back from the developers. I even discovered that my camera has a "timer" setting and I HOPE I got a rare picture of us together!

He's not a "Cat Man", but the cats adore him. And when he thinks I'm not looking, he gives them kitty loves. And, of course, doesn't mind being a couch when it suits cold kitteh feets to be so.

Even the Song Dogs love him.

I had such a loverly adventure! It was so wonderful to explore a wider part of my Community, I hadn't even gone that far yet. It's so beautiful ! It was so wonderful of Greig to take me away...


Sunday, December 12, 2010


Time for bed, me. The storm(s) have been pulsing through in waves, a land-locked estuary..this latest with lots of wet and wind... The wind is howling through whichever screens it can wrap its' gnarled and whispery fingers into.. It moans into the very air I breathe.

The Song Dogs join in, adding an amoebic element to the night's kareoke. Their songs rely only upon their personal ranges Alto, soprano, baritone, tenor, and their own style. Song Dogs, like Humans, have preferences. Some are jazz singers, their voices scatting and free. Some are Country, with a deep throaty "whiskey whisper" tone, and some are Classical, with their formality and power.

The songs of the Song Dogs are always filled with passion, and with a tender sorrow tinged with unutterably joy. The song of a Song Dog is like a verbal description of a sunset on a clear, yet snow-bedazzled day to a blind woman. It is like a kenetic
energy translated into the verbalization of the pumping of heart's blood.

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Keeping the Season in my Heart

The older I get, the more I understand why people can begin to feel depressed during the HolyDaze. I call them that on purpose: Holy Daze. This is the time, from the end of October till the following year, where we gather our Families together, where we Honor our Dead, our Elders, our Ancestors. This is a Holy Time, when the plants and Mother Earth nestle deep within the Dream, when those who can, hibernate. When those who cannot, struggle to find Rest.

And consequently, during all this gathering up, there are holes. Some are still gaping, some are healing, but all are missed. Having *Angels* on my shoulder is comforting in many ways, but OH these are times when I wish I could laugh with my Grammy again, when I could bake her favorite cake, sit down with the Family all whole and healed. And not just the human holes in my heart. I miss my Tundra, I miss Mr. Bear Britches. I still miss my Puck.

The longer you live, the more holes in your heart you wind up with. These are holes which will never be filled, will always be "just that particular shape" of the Missed. And I wouldn't WANT them to be filled. The band-aids my heart is filled with keep me connected to the World.

And this is the Season where we forgive. When we forgive ourselves, first... That's been my toughest lesson, learning to forgive myself... And then forgive the important people in our lives whom we have disconnected from for one reason or another. Because after all, I don't want the holes in my heart to crust over from the things I wish I'd said, from the things I wish I'd forgiven while I had the chance. I don't want to remember that the last thing I said to an Important person in my life was negative, or hurtful, or neglectful.

So, for today, JUST today, JUST for RIGHT NOW, I forgive myself. I invite you all to forgive yourselves. I invite us all to cast forgiveness like the fallen leaves of Autumn which make for the compost of Spring. Have you seen the way the sunlight dapples across the faces of the leaves as they flutter in the wind? I cast forgiveness like those leaves, to flutter in my heart until they find a nice warm place to make compost.

I met and spoke at length with Wallace Black Elk once, who told me to ask myself, when confronted with adversity, "Does It Grow Corn?" Is what you are struggling with going to generate a positive outcome? If not, throw it in the compost pile. ("The question “Does It Grow Corn?” – is a Native American [sic] standard by which to scrutinize new models and approaches")

So May the Spirit of the Season find a warm place to grow in our hearts. For today, I am going to smile, even if it starts with me taking my fingers and forcing the edges of my lips up.