Tag Archives: Storytelling

Cantognake

As writers we are continually on the hunt for words.  Words drive us.  Words are our souls.  And a couple of days ago I found one.  This one is from the Sioux language and I think it is absolutely beautiful.

Cantognake

It means to place and hold in one’s heart.

It can be used to describe a special place or person or persons or, for that matter, any soul or anything where ever you might encounter it.

I just recently left a place and souls I have placed in my heart.  Of course, there is already a collection of souls and places that occupy my heart too.  My heart is filling up.  It feels good.  Warm and glowing.  And even better to have a word to describe it.

Do you have a favorite word?

***

Photo:  A lake shore from up in the north country.  There are so many pictures I could choose of locations and special persons and animal friends that I really couldn’t decide which to use for this post.  I might have to add an entire gallery under this same title 🙂

Photo Journal

If you had the chance to read my last post you probably noticed that I mentioned I was gearing up for travel again.  Consequently, I won’t always have the time I desire, at a given moment, to write out some of my stories.  At least not until I am settled long enough to hammer out some lines.

Also, there is a direct relationship, which could be graphed, between having adventures and writing about them.  Have to have them first in order to have something to write about 🙂

So I thought I would launch another category in the blog today – Photo Journal.  When I don’t quite have that next story put together, I can at least post a nice pic for the day.  Some positive energy.  Beauty without words.

I’ve noticed other blogs doing the same and they use the theme of being “Wordless.”  Makes sense and sometimes, as the old expression goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

I have many pics of wildflowers that I haven’t had the chance to identify and this is one of them.  Maybe someday I circle back with a name for this one.  In the mean time, enjoy 🙂

Another White Flower 2

***

Photo:  While I try to use all of my own photos for all of my posts there are times that I must seek out others to match the theme, but every post in this category will be one of my own.  I took this one on the trail yesterday 🙂

 

 

Monsoons and Mountains

I’ll be gearing up soon.  Time to cut roots, pick another dot on the map, and drive.  As the time dwindles in my current resting place, urgency grows to take in all the sights and sounds possible in this oasis.

I study maps and locate a pristine spot that holds great promise.  A place where perennial streams meander through desert canyons.  A place bursting with life.  But I discover you need a 4-wheel drive vehicle to get there. Such are many places here.  Primitive roads where only a bulldozer has preceded you.  Signs warn that you’re driving at your own risk, and being out of cell range you want to be sure that car is up to the task.  It could take a day or more to hike out if stranded and returning with a tow truck may even be difficult depending on where and how you get trapped.

Forty years ago, I off-roaded in an old 1970 Plymouth Satellite.  It did ok for the most part.  I knocked the muffler off once and a while bottoming out, but I’d just reattach it and move on.

It would have been quite the sight, if anyone had been there, to see me driving that car right through the middle of forests, across open grasslands, or over rocky flats.  In search of the mythical Escalante.

Freedom then was being surrounded by Ponderosa Pine with fifty cents in my pocket, half a tank of gas, and some food to cook over an open fire.  Most probably food I had caught that day after making the proper offerings.

But the world has changed and I’m outfitted quite a bit differently now.  I’m driving a Prius with about 8 inches of ground clearance.  Smooth ride on the highways, but cautious trolling on the back roads.  I’ve had to turn around many times where the rains have washed out gullies big enough to swallow this car.

With one destination scratched from the list, I search out another.  It’s not far away from the original target and promises a good hike through the mountains.  Unusual mountains.  They look like some giant had fun rearranging and piling boulders to the sky in very unnatural configurations.  I wonder what this terrain must look like from the Eagle’s point of view.

How did this mountain range form?  Was it volcanic?  Was it upheaval?  Metamorphic stone smoothen by the rains and bleached by the sun over millennium.

I have good road most of the way, but the last five miles are primitive washboard.  I creep along at 10 miles an hour.  Any faster and the Prius shakes violently.  I bridge cattle guards in this open range country and cross four low-water washes.  They dip gently enough to cross, and a few inches of water reflects the recent rains.  If it rains again, they’ll fill rapidly.  Flash flooding is common during this season.

It is the Monsoons.

As I reach the base of the mountains, I discover the road is gated.  This segment of national parkland is “closed for the season.”  The sign doesn’t say what season, but I’m here and so I park on the road.

I check my gear, settle my backpack.  Essential to fit it correctly to avoid strained shoulders, neck or back.  But as I head towards the trail dark clouds start rolling in.  They appeared so distant on the horizon only moments before.  What appeared to be days away now envelops the area.

The temperature drops rapidly from the 80s to the 60s.  And as the rain drops begin to fall, I scramble back to the car.  This is not a time to hesitate.  I have to make it past those low-water crossings and can’t speed to do it.

As I splash through the first one, I glance back and the sight is amazing.  The mountains have virtually vanished in the veil of heavy rain.  Like a magic trick of monstrous proportions, the Monsoon rains have made the mountains disappear.

Chochise Stronghold 5

No time to gaze, I creep back the way I came and I’m grateful to make it across the last wash intact.  Now I can pause and reflect.  Marvel at what I’m witnessing.  But I can’t pause for too long.  Time to finish finding my way back to that paved road.

Once back on solid ground, and with hiking out of the question, it’s time to pick a new destination.  The rain forces me east, and I find an old historic town with the navigator.  The navigator wants to save me time, but I choose the backroads.

As I streak out on that gray ribbon and back into the warm sunshine, I notice I’m in a valley, a flat plain between 4 different mountain ranges.  The Monsoons blanket the north and the west, and I’m treated to a wonderful display of wrap-around lightening from the Thunderbeings.

This dessert grassland has been brought to life with water.  Water that hides in underground streams.  I’m driving through orchards, and pecan farms.  Corn fields and pistachio trees.

Vineyards and wineries dot the horizon.  The soil here perfect for developing the favor and sugar the grapes need for their fermentation.

Hawks ride on the trusses of the center-point irrigation systems that pull water from the buried aquifer.  The perfect vantage point for any prey attracted by both the water and cultivation.

I pass a gin factory and a bean plantation.  A cattle feedlot appears, surrounded by planted pines – an attempt to hide the final forced growth before the trip to the slaughterhouse.

Dust Devils spring up in the cultivated fields.  Mini tornados spawned by the Monsoon winds not far behind.

Herded out of the mountains, I find myself in an almost two centuries old town.  I park on the street next to the railroad tracks and soon a freight train rumbles through town.

First stop, a cowboy museum.  Not where I expected to be, but the storm brought me here so I explore the town the same way I explore the mountain trails.  I walk the streets and feel where my body is pulled.

Of all things, I find a bar of old-fashioned lye soap to purchase.  Something suggested to me to avoid modern soaps and detergents to which I now have chemical reactions to.  I didn’t know where I might find some, and wasn’t looking for it today.  But here it is.

Next stop, an antique store.  Now the Monsoon catches up with my retreat and as the high winds blow and torrential rain pours, I take my time in this shelter of shiny objects.  Glassware, military medals, old clothing, hats and rocks and minerals.

The proprietor turns out to be a Cheyanne Indian and she gifts me with a beautiful feather.

The symbolism associated with feathers refers to ascension and spiritual evolution.  A flight to other realms, Shamanic Journeying to gain knowledge.  Feathers also represent the Thunderbeings, along with the power of the wind.  Both clearly present today.

Feathers are also used ceremonially, fanning the smoke from sacred tobacco, sage, sweet grass and cedar.  A way to carry prayers to the heavens.

The proprietor and I talk and trade stories of life as historic figures might have traded coffee and sugar for furs.  It never ceases to amaze me how we meet kindred spirits on our paths.  In the middle of nowhere.  Some 1500 miles away from where I call home and a hundred miles away from where I’m currently based, my soul recognizes a familiar soul.  Had we walked together before, a different time and place perhaps.  Had I gifted her with a power object in that past life time, a gift now returned?

As we talk, she shows me many treasures in her shop.  I elect to add one to my collection.  A piece of rutilated quartz.  Quartz with inclusions of Titanium Dioxide – golden filaments.  This stone has also been called as the “Venus Hair Stone.”  It is said to be an energy amplifier to aid meditation and intuition.  To help free one from the feelings of suffocation or strangulation.  It is also said to connect the physical and spiritual realms and to aid in bringing out one’s true spirit.  It is an illuminator for the soul.  An interesting mirror image as the heavens touch the earth with life-giving water and electrical charges.

I am gifted again with a medicine bag for the stone.

The rain, thunder and lightening now paused, I give my thanks and say my goodbyes.  I make one final stop.  The retail shop of one of the local wineries.  A glass of wine to top off the day’s unplanned adventures.  As it turns out, the store’s owner, the only person in the shop, is a displaced mid-westerner from my home area.  So, we remanence of familiar times and places we walked before our consciousnesses had connected in this distant town of less than a thousand households.

What are the odds of any of these encounters?  These gifts – all cleansing, physical and spiritual connections, healing and growth.

Such is life in free-flow.  Chance occurrences.  Chance connections.  Compelling feelings to head into the mountains, to drive to an ancient town, to walk inside certain buildings, to converse with complete strangers whom we’ve seem to have known for lifetimes.

But is anything truly by chance?

The storm cloaks the mountains I sought, chases me out of that remote natural world to a place with spiritual gifts, kind words, and communion.

It was a good day.

***

Photos: All captured in the moment.  Below, a couple of shots before the rains.

Chochise Stronghold 7

Chochise Stronghold 8

Published ! Thrilled and honored that my story was published by The Urban Howl on September 12, 2018, under the title “Surrender Control & Let The Wind Take You To A New Adventure.”

The Bear

Safety can be Stifling.

Sometimes we need to take risks, to be exposed to the elements, and to leave our comfort zones in order to learn and grow . . .

I was hiking up into a beautiful canyon.  The transition from chaparral to tree line with over 4000 feet of elevation contrasts three completely different worlds.  From scrub oak and mesquite, to cottonwood, sycamore and willow, to ponderosa pine and alligator juniper.  All at finely demarcated lines of altitude or water course.  The canyon’s green armies of pines climbing beyond the highest point I would reach today.

It was hot and there was a dry breeze channeling through the mountain passes.  I stopped at an overlook, a cliff perched midway into the canyon.  I was taking in all that surrounded me.  It’s a mystical sort of beauty.  It draws you in.  Captures all of your senses.  Takes you on another journey.  An infinite landscape.

And then I “heard” something.  Maybe “sensed” is a better word, because I just knew I needed to turn around for a moment.  Turn my back to the captivating view because something else was happening.  Or was about to happen.

The feelings of curiosity, excitement, and fear all hit simultaneously when I saw it.  Bounding down the trail behind me and coming right towards me was a Black Bear!

I quickly stood on the rocks, and waved my arms to try to make myself look bigger and more menacing than I am – not easy to do.  And we exchanged growls.  Fortunately, the bear was just as startled as I was and it turned and ran off into the woods.  I continued to yell out and heard it scrambling further away.

This had all happened in the blink of an eye, so I replayed what I saw in my mind.  Over and over again.  It was a bear all right.  It seemed to me that it was in an almost playful stride.  Happy to be facing another day in this peaceful forest.  Its forest.  Until it saw me jump up.

This was the first time I had a close encounter with a bear.  Fortunately, it was a black bear and not so aggressive.

As you may know from my prior writings, I don’t believe in coincidence.  Everything happens for a reason.  Nature is constantly giving us messages, if we take the time to read them.  So what meaning could I derive from this encounter?  Regardless of how brief it was.

The bear’s symbolism is rich.  While awake it has been portrayed as having strength, courage and male energy.  It is also said to be a teacher of boundaries, for itself and others.  But it seems it greatest powers lie in its ability to sleep through the winter.

The bear doesn’t go into a true hibernation, rather its metabolism slows way down and it enters a state called “torpor.”  It can still wake easily, and the females can even give birth in this semi-conscious state.  The bear draws upon its fat reserves for nourishment during this time of prolonged rest.

While in torpor, the bear is said to be in a receptive state.  This energy of introspection is said to be female in nature.

The ability to go deep within to find resources necessary for survival mirrors a state of deep meditation.  Go deep within your soul’s den, draw upon your inner stores of energy and essence.  A time to awaken your personal power during this solitude to bring it out in the Spring.  Spring itself symbolizes birth and renewal.  Resurrection.

The bear is considered to be a messenger of the forest spirits.  It demonstrates more than just strength, but a supernatural power.  Fortitude.  The whirlwind.  The will.

It’s been immortalized in the constellation Ursa Major, the Greater She-Bear, more commonly known as the Big Dipper.  According to Iroquois legend, the quadrangle of the dipper forms the bear that is being pursued by seven hunters.  The three hunters who are closest form the handle of the dipper.  The four farthest hunters drop below the horizon in autumn and abandon the hunt.  At the same time, the bear rises to stand on its hind legs and one of the hunters wounds the bear with an arrow.  The bear sprays blood back on the hunter and blood falls on the forest to turn the trees red.  The bear is eaten but its skeleton remains, traveling on its back during the winter.  But in the spring, a new bear leaves the den and the hunt begins anew.

In Chi Gong, the bear is one of the five frolicking animals.  The exercise practiced mimicking the bear is believed to aid the stomach and spleen.  And these are considered the energy centers for applied thinking, for generating ideas, and for aiding memorization and concentration.  The digestion of knowledge.

To the Seneca tribe, the bear is a symbol associated with the West Shield.  Again, it relates to the pathways of attaining knowledge.  Entering torpor represents entering sacred space to be receptive of information.  This information is digested and integrated to discern truth.  And once we tap into our personal truth, we can seek out our desired goals.

So, what message can I derive from this brief meeting in the woods?

While many would think this encounter had little meaning, other than being glad the bear didn’t maul or eat them, examining the symbolism carries a major life lesson.  Recurring themes of introspection, digestion of knowledge, and attainment of truth span multiple cultures.  Once attaining truth and direction, one then should seek out their goals with strength and fortitude.

Recent times have been a period of solitude for me.  Other than contacts on social media, I have been pretty much resting in a somewhat semi-conscious state.  Waiting to be awakened.

In torpor, I examine myself, my life, my successes, my failures, my goals.  I must integrate this knowledge into action.

The appearance of the Bear marks a metaphysical inquiry.  Is your judgment or the judgment of those surrounding you in error?  Do you fail to see the beneficial things happening in your life?  Are you being too critical, or not discerning enough?

Time to venture inward and awaken potential.  And then emerge from the den.  Personal power must be brought out in the open to taste the fruits of such labor.

Whether you believe these messengers are sent by the Source, or that this is just mystical thinking, lessons can still be drawn.  Introspection is always good.  An examined life.  The integration of truth.  Acceptance of what has been.  Strength to face what will be.

To hibernate, or cut oneself off, to simply achieve safety is ultimately a sacrifice of living.  But hitting the pause button to gain knowledge, insight, and truth for a later emergence can lead to powerful growth.

Be the whirlwind.  Hit the trails.  Face the bear.

***

Photo: I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain.  The link tracked back to a web publication called Cool Green Science.  The article was titled: “When is a Black Bear Actually a Blue Bear?”  Black bears exhibit a whole range of coloration from black, brown, blonde, and even cinnamon.  I found a pic that closely resembles the one I saw.

Published ! Thrilled and honored that my story was published by The Urban Howl on August 20, 2018, under the title “Bear Wisdom — Venture, Awaken & Emerge From The Den.”

Hiking Through the Rhyolite

Many millions of years ago a volcano erupted with hundreds of times the force of Mount St. Helens.  Later the earth would push the remains upward leaving the volcanic rock exposed to all of the forces of erosion.  But the erosion was differential.  Softer materials washing away first. Leaving columns of stone.  Statues in precision alignment.  Sort of like the Moai on Easter Island.  Only here, they face inward to the center of the collapsed caldera.  Covered in desert scrub, it is difficult to imagine the explosive forces that once coalesced here.

The monoliths can also have disproportional heads where the boulders appear to balance mysteriously on much tinier pedestals.  All standing shoulder to shoulder like soldiers lining up on the parade grounds.

Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 7

Before I enter these mountains, I sign in with the park ranger.  They need to keep track if people go missing.  Know whose body they may find days later if you don’t return.

They warn me that there is a high chance of rain, and the trails across the ridgetop I’ve chosen to hike will have me exposed to lightening.  But I don’t believe the Thunder-beings have any interest in hurting me.  They can be great messengers of the Earth and the source of replenishing energy.

I’m prepared for the 8-mile trek.  As much as I can be.  And as I wind my way through the monoliths I follow an undulating path.  Up and down, back and forth, snaking my way along switchbacks.  That image of the snake’s path accented by the mineral serpentine, mixed with green, blue and gold lichens, reddish rhyolites, and specks of glistening mica.  A colorful cacophony.  Discordant reflections of muted color that shift continually as the sun makes its daily journey across the sky.

Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 13After a couple of hours, I reach the ridgetop.  Black char on skeletal trees, evidence of a fire from a decade ago, mixes with the light and dark greens of new pines and oaks.

 

Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 8

All of the washes and creeks are alive with a torrent of water.  Small waterfalls offer the perfect intonations for meditation.  Worn trails fragment as you hit flat rock.  And segments of it vanish completely.

There was a flash flood the night before and if there had been foot prints or trail markers they’ve all been washed away.  Erased as if no person had set foot here for eons.  And no one is here today other than myself.

Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 10

Often, I find myself in the wilderness where there are no other people.  But I’m never alone.  A troupe of Painted Redstarts moves through.  Lizards scurry away.  Butterflies seek out precious nectar from the red and yellow columbine that burst forth sporadically.

I come upon a pine totally splintered from a bolt of lightning, probably from the day before because its needles are still deep green.  No sign of this timber having dried.  Totally debarked with pieces strewn in a thousand directions.  I pick up a small piece of this now energy laden bark and place in my shirt pocket above my heart.  You can feel the energy throbbing.

I hit another point on the ridge where the trail has cloaked itself.  There are at least ten directions I could go.  Four seem more likely.  I climb up on a boulder to get a better vantage point and to my surprise a solitary white-tailed deer is right below me.  The doe doesn’t seem to know I’m there.  The wind coming towards me carries my scent the opposite direction.

I watch her quietly graze on low-lying tree branches.  Then she raises her head and sees me.  Stares right into my eyes.  But I’m surprised by her actions.  I expect her to panic.  To run away as most deer would.  She’s unconcerned.  Apparently feeling no threat.  And instead offers to help.
Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 11She alters her path and circles back toward me and loops to my left.  We lock gazes, and I follow her.  Her gentleness lures me to the right path.  And then she’s gone.  In an instant.  A blink.  As if she wasn’t there at all.  Her spirit saves me the time I would have spent trying to find the right route.  Time is life out here.

Descending from the ridgetop, I make it to the center of the monoliths.  How long have these statues stood?  Holding this ground.  Carved by forces that no human sculptor could match.  They’ll be here long after my physical body has departed.  Silently keeping watch.
Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 15I hear an Owl in the distance.  Its affirmation tells me I am safe.  I can take a break here. Take the load off my back.  Hydrate and take in some calories to replace those consumed.  Breathe in the surroundings.

Native Americans used to inhabit this place.  It’s sacred Earth.  I offer thanks for being allowed safe passage.  I’m not the top predator here, after all.  Black beer and mountain lions call this their home.

An injury here can mean death.  Can’t let your guard down even as you grow weary.  Pay attention.

I hear a noise, and a Yarrow’s Spiny Lizard perches himself on a rock next to the path.  He does pushups and flares his neck in a display of dominance.  I stop to observe.  When I start to take my next step, I notice a large stone in the center of the path.  I had not seen it before and if I continued unaware I would have tripped over this stone and have possibly been injured.

Falling to right would have landed me on the switchback 20 feet below.  Falling to the left, into the rock wall there, could have meant a fractured skull.  Falling forward, a twisted or broken ankle.  I thank the lizard for his warning.
Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 17+C1

Such is nature.  Be attentive.  If your soul is open, nature’s spirits will speak to you.  Warn you.  Protect you.  Give you energy.  Keep you on the right path.

The hike complete, it is time to center and reflect.  There are always forces around us at work.  This day was my mother’s birthday.  She passed away last year.  And I can’t help but think that maybe she is watching over me too on this day.  Protecting me from all the dangers that surrounded this solitary hike into the wilderness.

As I drive home, Hawks, Ravens, and Turkey Vultures line the telephone lines.  All facing inward.  Like the monoliths, soldiers.  These are the protectors, the shape-shifters, the visionaries.  And they guard my route.  Almost like a salute to a journey well completed.  So many of them.  Their numbers far exceeding and mingling with their prescribed territories.  An oddity?

Thank you, mom.  Love you and miss you.

***

Chiricahua - 8-9-18 - 14

Photos: I took them all with a cell phone camera as I hiked 🙂

Published ! Thrilled and honored that my story was published by The Urban Howl on August 29, 2018, under the title “If Your Soul Is Open, Nature’s Spirits Will Speak To You.”

All Lives Matter

Does anyone see anything wrong with this title?  I mean sure, we can add other value judgments and say maybe that criminals’ lives don’t matter, as much.  Or perhaps terrorists?  Surely their lives don’t matter, as much – compared to those doing good in the world.  But those are relative comparisons and still don’t affect the overall message.

If you believe in the sanctity of life or truly practice any form of religion, then it is hard to get away from this statement.  And I would expand it beyond the limitation of only human lives and say this applies to all life – humans, animals, plants, etc.

A strange thing happened, which is why I brought this up today.  This phrase was used as an accusation that I was diluting a conversation because I put forth the implied notion that all lives matter when that person believed the subject had to be restricted to only women in certain situations, specifically health care treatment.

So how did we get from point A to point Z?  Good question.

You see, it’s like this.  An article was posted on a social media platform that can be summed up in its opening sentence: “Every year, thousands of women suffer life-altering injuries or die during childbirth because hospitals and medical workers skip safety practices known to head off disaster . . .”  I’ve no doubt this is true, and bad medical practice has not only been a topic of many articles I’ve gotten published, but it is a pet peeve of mine as an RN who was dedicated to providing safe and quality nursing care.

So, I responded with posting links to two other articles.  The first was a general article about the annual number of deaths in America attributed to preventable medical negligence.  We’re talking 200,000 to 400,000 preventable deaths caused by medical negligence each and every year in this country – shocking!

The second was an article about how a medical device company actually pays doctors to get them to use an implantable birth control device that has injured women.  This article was more specifically related to the topic of women receiving bad health care in relation to reproductive care.

So far so good.

Then a woman posted a comment about women receiving inferior medical care and claimed that men would automatically receive better care.  I pointed out that in my 24 years of experience in the medical arena I did not always find this to be true.  I observed, more generally, that people with better insurance receive better care, and I’ve witnessed plenty of men receiving inferior care as well.

The response was that plenty of research studies (none were cited) demonstrated women receive worse care than men and that person did not appreciate me “derailing” the conversation with my “all lives matter” comments.  Humm, let that sink in a little.  I will also note that the original person starting the discussion did not seem to have issues with the topic being broadened a bit.

I responded that I didn’t think I was derailing anything.  Remember, I agree with the posting.  Many women do receive sub-standard health care.  I just added that I was a first-hand witness to people of all sexes, races and ethnicities being treated badly in health care, and in general, health care can be a pretty iffy gamble for everyone.

What’s the deal here?  Was the objection related to trying to label the biggest victim?  Hey look at me, my group is treated worse than yours!  Is this some type of a bragging point?  I don’t know.

What I do know is I switched careers and became an attorney to specifically fight for anyone victimized by bad medical practice.  I advocated for my patients, women and men, when I was a nurse.  And I did the same as an attorney.  In fact, most of the medical malpractice law suits I handled involved women and children clients.  I support and have actually fought for women’s issues.

I’m not interested in labeling and segregating and trying to make claims about who might be the biggest victim of something.  I realize that all people are not treated fairly.  I realize there is real bigotry in this country and it can play out in all sorts of fashions.

I don’t believe, to be politically correct, that anyone should be expected to acknowledge only certain forms of discrimination over others.  I believe all people should be treated equally, and as an RN and compassionate human being, yes, all lives matter.  Sorry, I don’t see that as a deficiency.

***

Photo: I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain.  I traced it back to an online publication called Missouri Blogspot.  I had my own picture of an elk in Missouri, but it was an old photograph from the 70s and was very blurred out in my attempts to upload it to the computer.  The reason I wanted that Elk was it was actually in a fenced wildlife enclosure run by the state.  The week after I took its picture some idiot used the same observation platform I used to photograph it in order to shoot it with a bow and arrow to kill it.  The moron just wanted to kill something apparently and left the body of the defenseless caged animal there.  All lives matter and play their role in the ecosystem.

BTW: I posted this under the topic of health, but I suppose it could go under the topics of society or even politics.  It’s one of those issues that bleeds over into many subject classifications, but since the original discussion came out of a dialog on health care I placed it there 🙂

Luminous

Long, white, flowing dress.

Auburn hair,

hazel eyes.

Delicately stepping into the formless haze.

Breath quickening.

Anticipating.

Each gentle, awakening nudge.

A dizzying array of silver particles streak across the gray sky.

They dance across her cheeks,

lightly brush her lips,

soak deeply into her neck,

massage the small of her back,

caress her thighs,

stroke the length of her legs.

Cleansing, freeing.

Releasing her from her thoughts.

Her dress now clinging tightly,

taking her form.

Smooth and streaming.

A walking sculpture.

Luminous and divine.

***

 

Woman Rain 3 + Resized+Crop

Photo:  I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain.  I could find no further attribution for it.

Published !  Thrilled and honored that my poem was published by The Urban Howl on August 16, 2018, under the title “Release Yourself From Your Thoughts – Be Luminous & Devine.

When Spirits Call

We live in a spiritual world.  Every part and parcel of it is imbued with particles of awareness from the spiritual source.  So why not tune in and receive unfiltered spiritual guidance . . .

You may have noticed in some of my other posts, especially in the spirituality section of my blog, that I talk about communing with nature.  About being in the natural world and learning to perceive the messages that come to us through native signs and symbols.  And I refer to the natural world as being the “real world.”  Not an artificial or illusory construct by humans.  Not temporary physical structures that will revert to dust.  Mother Earth remains eternal.

People have changed the ways that they experience their worlds.  They have a tendency to think that they have “tamed” the natural world, when in fact, they have simply walled themselves off from it.  I think it’s better to open up and see what’s really out there.  Experience it firsthand.

I realize that many people do not believe in such things.  How can a coyote deliver a message about how to live, or awaken you to an inner calling?  I get it, and no one has to agree with the things I’ve come to believe.  That’s ok.

It may even seem counterintuitive that I would entertain such beliefs given that my educational background has largely been in either the sciences or in analytical reasoning.  But I also believe there are many things beyond what science can explain, at least for the moment.  And why write off such things and discount them simply because there is no logical explanation for them?

You can define your own reality in any terms you wish, but I encourage you not to deny what your senses perceive, especially your sense of intuition.

If it helps, a scientific way to look at this is that we are electro-chemical machines and we emit energy fields.  So does everything else.  And if our fields encounter one another there will be a communication of some type.  A relaying of signals that may not require a spoken language or physical touch.  Now you have to figure out what the signals you are receiving mean.

So, since this is becoming a recurring theme in my posts, I thought I would take a moment to elaborate a little more on just what animal “totems” or “familiars” are.  They have also been referred to as “Spirit” or “Power” animals.

Spirit beings have been a part of every major religion and culture.  Whether it be the serpent, said to be the devil, in the story of Adam and Eve, or the Greeks speaking to their gods through oracles, or aboriginal tribes taking on the forms of animals through symbolic dress and engaging in ritual dance to connect with the spirit realm.  The symbolism of ties between the natural world and spirit world are universal, and many of the “messengers” of “God” are depicted as being surrounded by various animals.  Why so, except for the symbolism they convey?

A totem can be defined as any natural object or animal or being where you connect with its associated energy or life force.  A totem has also been described as a spirit being, or a sacred or power object, or a symbol associated with a clan or an individual.  Once such a connection is recognized and accepted, the spirit within it can serve as a guide throughout one’s life.  More commonly than not, the spiritual totem takes the form of an animal.

One definition I found on the Net equates animal totems with “archetypes that work with the subconscious mind, tapping into the energy that is present in all things” . . . that “can be seen as channels or frequencies on a radio with many levels of understanding.”

And just what is an “archetype?”  An archetype is said to be a typical example of a certain person or thing.  Although I never look at things as being “typical,” nor do I like that word.  I find things living and inanimate, to be magical and unique, not typical.  In Jungian psychology, an archetype is a primitive mental image inherited from our human ancestors that is supposed to reside in the collective unconscious.

However you wish to parse the words, I think we can derive that a totem, or symbolic representation of a spiritual entity or guide, can be said to have certain characteristics.  A Bear strength.  An Owl Wisdom.  A Deer gentleness.  A Fox invisibility.  I’m using one-word descriptions for this example, but the symbolism for each is far more intricate.

As a guide, an animal totem can convey many different messages.  An affirmation or a warning.  Or you may be able to tap into that spirit’s energy at a time of need.  A totem is said to be a life-long spiritual partner and it will appear in both your physical world and your spiritual world.

Another term you may have heard is that of an “animal familiar.”  In its basic origins, this referred to a non-physical being, a thought-form or spiritual entity.  But over time, the term has been applied to living animals.  Familiars can be physical or non-physical, you can have more than one at any given time, and they can change over time.

How do we learn if we have a Spirit Animal?

Well, you don’t learn it from a “How Stuff Works” Internet quiz.  One commonality across cultures that applies to totems and familiars is that they choose you.  Not the other way around.  And the way such a totem enters your life can vary.  You might be visited in a dream.  Or have a vision while you are awake.  Or it may continually appear to you in the physical form, over and over again.  If you do have such a totem, once you’ve identified it, you can start being observant for any messages it may send you.

In my case, it appeared to me in a vision when I was 15, announced its presence, and told me it would be with me.  I then discovered its presence everywhere in various forms and I learned to interpret what its presence in certain situations meant.

Encountering an animal doesn’t necessarily mean it is one of your guides.  Or if it is you guide, its presence doesn’t always mean something metaphysical is in the works.  As Freud said, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”  There are no meanings to unravel.  No symbolism being communicated.

So how do you tune into to your spiritual allies?  See connections and messages beyond the ordinary?

Well, I recently read an article by Lissa Rankin titled: “How Can You Tell If You’re Being Spiritually Guided?” where Rankin lays out what she terms as being “15 Discernment Tools.”  She provides a list of 15 questions you can ask yourself to attempt to answer this question honestly.

1–Does it feel like shackles on or shackles off?
2–Is it kind?
3–Is there Aliveness here?
4–Does it exhaust me or fill me with dread?
5–Does it nourish or deplete me?
6–Does it feel natural, efficient, easeful, peaceful and graceful?
7–Does it make sense?
8–Will it hurt anyone?
9–Would love do this?
10–How does this feel in my body?
11–Am I rushing?
12–Is it coercive or controlling?
13–Is it ethical and aligned with my core values?
14–Will this cultivate the stillness in me?
15–What’s true and not true about this situation?

I don’t think these questions are all required for every given instance in which you feel pulled or directed to take some course of action.  I also think you need to begin with the symbolism of the totem.  If you do feel you are being given some guidance, you have to know what that guidance is in relation to.  And I don’t believe you can accurately assess what the guidance is unless you know what the totem represents.

You’ll also have to learn to trust your inner voice because you’ll have to interpret the message and how it applies to you at that given moment in time.

I know I’ll have future posts on this topic that may help illustrate specific nuances.  I’m working a piece right now where I encountered a bear in the wild.  Close up for the first time.  It certainly got my attention, but did it carry any specific meanings other than “HOLY SHIT!?”  We’ll see 😊

***

Photo:  A Western Screech Owl, a father on guard.  It is intensely watching a rattle snake that is too close to his chicks.  Nothing could break this Owl’s gaze.  This could have turned into an epic physical battle, but this father won a spiritual fight.  Energy fields collided.  And while this snake may have been too large for this small predator, its intense energy sent the snake on its way.

Woody Guthrie

A friend posted a link to a Woody Guthrie song on Facebook the other day.  He is a big music fan and appreciates a lot of the older musicians.  It was the anniversary of Guthrie’s birthday, July 14th.

I knew the song well, but I went to the link on You Tube to listen again and that’s when I noticed them.  The comments.

I look at a lot posts now days, not for the actual content, but for the comments.  It is sort of like taking the pulse of the public.  True, it is not a representative sample of the general public and one shouldn’t put too much emphasis or importance on these minority of remarks.  But it can be amusing at times.  Or enlightening.

Everything, and I mean everything, seems to be politically charged right now.  I saw a post about the FBI crime statistics and immediately people were trying to link crime with political party affiliation.  Heck, they should just look at the politicians themselves for that.  Plenty of criminals there.

But the average murder, I imagine, has more to do with passion, the heat of the moment, or a robbery or other crime, or something else much more mundane.  When I worked for the top court in my state, I had to review all of the state’s death penalty cases.  I can guarantee you not a single murder case I looked at had anything to do with politics.

But people see what they want to see.

I imagine the politicians are patting themselves on their backs.  They have successfully, maybe too successfully, divided the country into polar opposites and many people just can’t wait to add their commentary and witticisms to any thread on social media.  And I’ll give some credit, some of their remarks are actually smart and funny 😊

Insults have become popular, though, so there is a whole bunch of eye-poking and head-slapping going on out there.  I’ve generally quit trying to add rational thoughts to the mix as the responses are, well, just kind of out there in the ozone layer, what’s left of it.

Once, apparently not liking my ideas, a person fired back that they had my IP address and were going to come to my home, rape my mother and kill my whole family.  Another time, I was called a “Communist putz” because I had said something regarding the greed and materialism I see in the current culture.  The level of civil discourse sometimes deteriorates in cyber world.

I like the blogging world much better.  People are generally more positive here, more thoughtful in their presentations, and willing to have a real discussion.

At any rate, this song was no different from any other post.  It was politicized quickly.  It was a folk song about America, after all.  And forms of government became a point of contention.  Not surprising considering Woody Guthrie often had the words “This Machine Kills Fascists” written on his guitar.

It seems to me that the lines have been blurred between our form of government and our economic and maybe even our religious systems.  Democracy is not the same as capitalism.  Socialism is not the same as Communism.  People worshiping money or monetary systems are certainly not religious in any respect.

I did like one of the comments though because I thought it showed a level of balance so here it is:

“Considering human history and the teachings of the major world religions, it seems that your statement about greed being a natural human trait is largely true. It’s also been recognized as an evil impulse for thousands of years by virtually every strain of human thought. One way to view capitalism is the institutionalization of greed. It has benefits and drawbacks, and most world democracies have settled on a capitalist system with some governmental regulation as “the best of all possible worlds.” Those who advocate for unfettered socialism seem to be ignorant of or OK with losing all of capitalism’s early benefits: constant innovation; rewarding hard work, talent, intelligence, and risk; and a strong individual work ethic. Those who advocate for unfettered capitalism seem to be ignorant of or OK with the oligarchy that quickly overtakes it as the rich use their power to stifle innovation, fix markets, and disconnect the link between talent, hard work, and upward mobility. They seem to also be OK with the violent revolt of the disenfranchised that must surely follow.”     — Patrick Lollis

Any thoughts?

***

The Woody Guthrie song link:  This Land is Your Land

Feature Photo: I found this photo on the Internet in the public domain.  It was linked back to an NPR site with an interview about Woody Guthrie.

BTW: I added the Politics section to my blog because sometimes I’ll have to write something that wanders into this pasture.  But you may have noticed that I don’t post too often in this section.  I am still working on the art of presenting controversial topics neutrally.  I like to keep discussions alive and love to hear what others have to say.  Being extreme in one’s presentation may be provocative, but the discussion will usually deteriorate and die quite quickly that way.  I’d rather have an open mind and listen to well articulated ideas 🙂

 

Contagious Evil

The Moon shines no light of its own.  It merely reflects the light from another source, our sun.  It makes no conscious choice on what it reveals to us . . .

***

For the moment I sit and seem to be without words.  So, I’m trying an exercise where I just write something, anything, just to see what shakes loose.  It’s strange, that the internal dialog in our minds never wants to shut up, but my writer’s voice goes away every once in a while.

At the same time I’m having trouble writing in this blogging format, I’ve been restraining myself from lashing back on other social media platforms.  Reining in those words. Humm, injustice inspires me to want to speak up against it.  But that doesn’t always bring out the best in my writing.  Better to stay calm and deliberate and write positively.

But deliberating about which words to use, or writing about how to write, is not the same as telling a story.  Or delivering a message.  Deliberating can turn into avoidance.  I watched many a doctor do this back when I worked in the hospital.  I called it WWDD – Watch, Wait, Debate, Do Nothing.  Ultimately, the patient dies.

Excuses right.  Always have a rationalization.  Don’t want to get too close to that edge.  The sun got in my eyes.  I tripped over a rock.  I was adjusting my medications.  Humm, most probably the later . . .

But I do have to say, the tone of the conversations permeating cyberspace in recent weeks, at least in my neck of the words, has been a bit disheartening.  It sort of left me speechless and maybe even a touch morose.  I never thought I see a time when so much anger and hatred would spread.

A sort of virus had taken over, and evil one.  It seems like people have stopped really communicating and are just sort of screaming at one another.  Whomever yells the loudest wins.  Wins what?  I’m not sure.

And one of my goals in blogging this time around has been to try to find ways to bring people into the conversation.  To keep the discussion going.  To have people actually consider other viewpoints.  But one wrong word choice can shut the whole thing down or explode it.

So how does one write positively when addressing evil?

I was reminded about some workplace research I had recently read about.  Contagious Evil.  Of course, the authors didn’t call it that.  They used terms like “corruption,” “spill-over effect,” “misconduct,” and “bad apple.”

The Harvard Business Review’s study determined that Contagious Evil (we’re going with my terminology) has a social multiplier of 1.59, meaning each time an incident of misconduct occurs, another event of misconduct will be triggered 59% of the time by peer effects.  The study focused on financial advisors, who it turns out are 37% more likely to commit misconduct if they collide with a co-worker with a history of misconduct.  And the effect can be stronger if the two doing the colliding are in the same ethnic group.

Interesting, if a colleague in your workplace lies, cheats or steals, and you are aware of this, you have a greater than 50% chance of joining in the violation or embarking upon your own dance of misconduct.  It’s as though the original evil one handed you a get-away-with-evil-free card.  A license to do bad, because, well, someone else got away with it.  Your chance to settle some imaginary score?  Get back at all those little injustices being perpetuated against you?  Perhaps.

This “spill-over” phenomenon has been witnessed in other contexts, like how one mass shooting or a suicide seems to trigger others.  A whole bunch of theories have been propounded to try to explain this contagious communal thinking.

Like the moon, an individual may not engage in any conscious determination of their actions, but merely reflect the thoughts, actions and beliefs of others.

One theory is simply called the “Contagion Theory,” where collective behavior is like a crowd induced hypnosis – irrational and emotional.  Another is “Convergence Theory.”  The crowd behavior reflects the beliefs of the individuals before they joined the crowd, so what pulled that crowd of like-thinking automatons together?  Maybe it was the media platform.

On the other spectrum, we have “Emergent Norm Theory.”  People, who are uncertain in how to act collectively, actually discuss how their behavior should be governed and allow order and rationality to guide them.  I haven’t seen much of that lately.

There is also the “Werther Effect,” so labeled from Goethe’s novel, “The Sorrows of Young Werther.”  Unrequited love ends with suicide and this was the inspiration for copycats.  The license theory – if it’s ok for someone else, they have granted me their approval and it’s ok for me too.

I don’t know if any of these equations can be applied to evil writing.  Collective thought and behavior put into words where the crowd only gathers figuratively.  Words of evil that for some reason seem to latch on to some imaginations.  Captivate and propagate more collagenous bile.  Will one person’s hateful rhetoric escalate, license and embolden?  Rising in a crescendo of a million voices, either echoing or repelling?  And can all of this hostility spill into the streets?  That seems to be what I’m seeing right now.

But then I think, just what is evil?  Evil is defined as profound immorality and wickedness and it takes on Biblical proportions when it has the qualities of a supernatural force.  But then we have the terms “immorality” and “wickedness” and who gets to define those terms?  We may all have different definitions, especially on morality.

We tend to look at things in the world with an eye of relativism not absolutism.  My crime was so minor when compared to murder, so I’m not a criminal.  Right?

And then there is the “Tonal” of times.  Morality changes over time.  Whatever the majority of the bee hive is thinking at this particular moment or era of time.  And that “Hive Think” can take over, be contagious.  Whether it is right or wrong.

We seem to be living in a time of rising intolerance, division, and social disintegration.  When I find myself speechless in the face of extreme ignorance though, I become concerned.  Are the differences so great now, the division so complete, that people think corrupting our democracy is worth the tradeoff of the loss of liberty?  The “my way or the highway mentality” feeding into authoritarianism.  Or instead of social consensus, is this merely reflecting a collective fear of deciding, of having to be responsible for one’s choices, so let’s have someone else decide, it will be their fault if it fails . . .

What do you think?  Is evil contagious?  Can the power of words be used to enhance the social multiplier, escalate collisions with “bad apples?”  Or provide a stamp of approval for behavior that is particularly wicked?

I don’t know if there is an off switch for what’s going on right now, but I do hope people will become more civil, will recognize truth, will compromise.  And hope they will start shining their own light, thinking and reasoning for themselves instead of being hypnotized with polarizing buzz words.  Be the reflection of themselves instead of becoming the reflection of other minds . . .

***

** So there, I managed to meander through my mind for a bit and put something reasonably coherent into kBs.  And hopefully I’ve done so having not offended anyone.

*** The “quoted text” is all my own.  I just wanted to set those lines off for rhythm 🙂

Photo: The moon doesn’t shine its own light. It reflects.

 

Dreaming of You

There is a place

where I have gone

when I am dreaming.

And it has been very rare.

Where I know I am dreaming

and there is no difference

between me the dreamer

and me the dreamed.

Who is to say which is more real.

And I can choose where I wake up

in my bed

where this body is sleeping

or in the dreamscape

where I am experiencing

On that plane of existence.

And tonight

if I have that choice,

I choose to be where ever you may be

because I know

you will be in that dream

Where ever it may be . . .

***

Photo: A landscape takes on more color and becomes a dream, but the image is just as real.  It was all a matter of perception and expanding our senses.

The Warm Desert Wind

The warm desert wind swept up from the chaparral.  Wrapping around my face before continuing its journey into the canyon, the place where I was heading.  Another gust comes from the opposite direction, the canyon itself.  A see-sawing of wind.  A vibratory force.  Alternating current.  An invisible infinity symbol.  The Mobius.  Lightly whistling at times.  Ever-bearing weight at others.

I was tracking up a wash.  A magical place that appears bone dry but it’s surrounded by vegetation.  What feeds it?  At different elevations, the hidden aquafer emerges.  Clear, cool, running water, disappearing beneath the rocks a hundred feet above and a hundred feet below.  Feeding Mohave Lupine, Sky Pilot, Scarlet Gilia, the Mexican Silene. Manzanita, with its dark, reddish-brown bark.  Bordered by purple Fairy Dusters.  A scattered box of crayons, melting into the brown, dusty earth.

Miller Canyon - 8

As lush and diverse as the growth is here, one might wonder whether this should be called a desert at all.  But there are different types of deserts.  And this is not a desert like the ones I’ve encountered in the furthest southern points.  So harsh that the ability to adapt can be short lived, as will you be if you’re stranded there.

Those deserts are bone dry and barren.  Every plant a spiky throwback to the distant past.  Where evolution stopped.  They tear at your ankles as you walk.  Shred your pants. Gouge your skin.  Like a pack of hungry wolves, they go for your Achilles tendons.  To bring you down.  Cripple you for the kill.  The earth soaks up your blood with a never-ending thirst.  The dryness, suffocating.

But where I’m at there are multiple biomes.  Sky Islands, so called because of the diversity that lives in each mountain range.  Volcanic uprisings now differentially worn by wind and rains.  Rhyolite columns stand like ancient warriors in the altitudes above the lowlands, guarding the pine forests and their inhabitants.

Chiricahua - Hike Droping Out of the Rhyolite Columns 9

And at the base of, or threading through the canyons, Sycamore, Willow, and Cottonwood paint ribbons of green along creaks, streams or rivers.

San Pedro River - 7

At mid-altitude, there are Pinon, Juniper, and Mesquite trees, as well as Emory and Silverleaf Oaks.  And in between these islands can be grasslands.  Vast stretches.  Tan waves of vegetation below blue skies and billowing clouds.  The land undulates, alive.

AZ Vista+Crop 1

In other outstretching plains below the floating islands lie infinite reaches of scoured desert floors.  Fictitious trails through Saguaro cacti, like standing in a perpetual hall of mirrors.  Where do they all lead?

Here, the sun bearing down causes an evolutionary reversion to the reptilian form.  Just basking in that sun raises your heart rate.  Exhaling water vapor that’s evaporated before you can see it.  Your skin desiccates and takes on the shape of scales.  It becomes armor you will need in this battle.

To tread here you must do continual 360-degree spotting, take snapshots in your mind, tracing landmarks for the path of your return.  At some point, your memory banks are full and the terrain all starts looking the same, and you must decide whether to turn around or march into oblivion.  Blood and brain broiling.  Unforgiving beauty.

Saguaro Natn Park 15

Rising from that depth, the air cools again.  The humidity rises.  Plants flourish.  Bare rocks become canvases, covered with Petroglyphs from those who knew how to survive here, how to build a community here, how to chart the stars here.  The songs of their storytelling still echo through the canyons.

For now, I’ll tread through the scrub land, rising into the pines and I’ll sit with my friends.  The deer, the javelina, the coyote, the falcon, the hawks, and my brothers the Owls.  And we’ll share the tales of our ancestors, for just a while longer.

Madera Canyon - 5 - Looking South From Josephine Saddle

***

 

Photos: I decided to include a few photos to go with my words.  Sometimes words aren’t enough to carry you there, to reveal the contrasts, the infinite beauty.