24 December 2007

Happy Winter Solstice. Merry Christmas. This is a magickal time of year. My wish for all the world is one of peace and serenity, calm and love. The darkest night has come and gone. The light returns to Earth, warming us, bringing us comfort. The promise of spring is upon us. The Christmas trees that fill so many of our homes this holiday season are a symbol of the green and life that does not die. No matter how cold and dark the world becomes life continues to surround us. We are not alone. We are connected to each other. Remember, as you complete your holiday shopping, getting frustrated with the long lines and grouchy, hurried shoppers that those same people have the light of love within themselves. Smile at them. We are all connected. As the light returns do not dismiss the dark. She has much to teach. We learn from our dark and take our lessons into the light...making it brighter everytime. No matter what holiday or holidays you choose to celebrate at this time of year hold love, light and peace in your heart. Live from that space. I wish you many blessings!

05 November 2007

Mother of Compassion

Kwan Yin, Goddess of Compassion. I have been reading a book about this peaceful and loving goddess entitled "Discovering Kwan Yin" by Sandy Boucher. Last Friday, I read this:

"...Kwan Yin is wide compassion and open acceptance....I petition her on a daily basis. If you do that, things don't seem to move to crisis. It's not like waiting and waiting until there's crisis and then calling on Kwan Yin. And if there's something that's really bothering me, I specifically make a request about that. Whether it's for resolution or the highest good or highest purpose, something like that. If there's someone I know who is needing help, I would say the mantras (Namo Guan Shi Yin Pu-Sa) and dedicate them to that person and do a visualization of Kwan Yin connecting to him or her, like an energy line going between Kwan Yin and that person."

I was on my afternoon break at my new job. I had spent the last week sending email reminders to people whose Social Security Cards we still needed to photocopy. I had sent hundreds of emails and was finally on the "W" section of my list. I had sent my standard email and received a nasty reply from a young man named Justin. He said, "This is complete bullshit!" And on and on went his email. I was a bit rattled by his message, but replied in a professional manner with the reasons for needing his card. I had two phone calls in a row after I sent him my response and was very worried it was him, calling to yell at me in person. Anxious and frazzled I went on my break. I read the above passage and realized that for this young man to have sent such an angry email to a complete stranger, he must have been unhappy and dissatisfied with some part of his life. So, instead of being hurt and angered by his actions, I began to visualize Kwan Yin. I imagined her standing upon her lotus, wearing her glowing white robes, shimmering with the love and compassion of her heart. I imagined her between Justin and myself and saw her love protecting me and nourishing him. I finished my break and went back to work. Later, that evening I checked my email and had another message from Justin. He said, "OK Thanks. I'll come by next week." I thank Kwan Yin for her intervention and blessing. I wonder, had I not petitioned this Goddess, would his response have been the same?

A statue of Kwan Yin has been sitting on my altar for about ten years. She has been there, watching and waiting, but it is only recently that I have made an effort to understand her and invite her into my life. This experience has made me sit up and pay attention. Not only do I need her love and peace and wisdom in my heart, but I need to (and choose to) invite her into my daily practice. I can no longer sit idle, watching my life unfold, I must become an active player and shape my life into the loving, peaceful, wise journey I wish it to be.

29 September 2007

Why War Is Never a Good Idea
by Alice Walker
Though War speaks
Every Language
It never knows
What to say
To frogs.

Picture frogs
Beside a pond
Holding their annual
Pre-rainy season
Convention.

They do not see WAR
Huge tires
Of a
Camouflaged
Vehicle
About to
Squash
Them flat.

Though War has a mind of its own
War never knows
Who
It is going
To hit.

Picture a donkey
Peacefully
Sniffing a pile
Of straw.
A small boy
Holds
The end
Of its
Frayed
Rope
Bridle.

They do not see it
They are both thinking
Of dinner.
The boy
Is hoping for
Polenta & eggs
Maybe a carrot
Or apple
For
Dessert.

Just above
Them
Something dark
Big as
A car
Is
Dropping.

Though War has eyes
Of its own
& can see oil
&
Gas
& mahogany trees
& every shining thing
Under
The earth

When it comes
To nursing
Mothers
It is blind;
Milk, especially
Human,
It cannot
See.

Picture a woman
Beside a window.
She is blissful
Singing
A lullaby.
A baby twirls
A lock of her
Dark hair
Suckles
For all
It is
Worth.

They do not smell War
Dressed in
Green & brown
Imitating
Their fields
Marching slowly
Toward them
Up
The steep
Hill.

Though War is Old
It has not
Become wise.
It will not hesitate
To destroy
Things that
Do not
Belong to it
Things very
Much older
Than itself.

Picture the forest
With its
Rivers
& rocks
Its pumas
&
Its
Parakeets
Its turtles
Leopards
&
Snakes.

High above them War
Has turned itself
Into a white cloud
Trailing
An
Airplane
That
Dusts
Everything
Below
With
A powder
That
Kills.

War has bad manners.
War eats everything
In its path
& what
It doesn't
Eat
It
Dribbles
On:

Here
War is
Munching on
A village
Its missiles
Taking chunks
Big bites out
Of it.
War's
Leftover
Gunk
Seeps
Like
Saliva
Into
The
Ground.
It
Is finding
Its
Way
Into the
Village
Well.

War tastes terrible
& smells
Bad. It never
Considers
Body
Odor
Or
Weird Side
Effects.
When added
To water
It makes
You sick
Sip by sip.

You could die
While
Choking
&
Holding
Your
Nose.

Now, suppose You
Become War.
It happens
To some of
The nicest
People
On earth:
& one day
You have
To drink
The
Water
In this place.


Last night, Andy and I had the great opportunity to hear Alice Walker read this poem (and another) at Powell's Books in Beaverton. "Why War Is Never a Good Idea" has been published with beautiful and moving illustrations as a children's book. Please find it and buy it and read it with your kids and pass on her message. You can also find this poem in a book of poems by Alice Walker entitled "Absolute Trust in the Goodness of the Earth." A book I love and read over and over and over again.

Alice Walker is eloquent and kind and warm and funny and smart and brave. I was deeply moved and inspired by her talk. I asked her about writing practice and spiritual practice and she looked me straight in the eye and said, for her, they are the same. And inside I was shouting, "For me too! Me too!" Because that is also how I feel. It was a blessing to hear her speak and when she signed my books I told her, "Thank you for coming here. It was a true gift." And she said to me, "It was a true gift to be here."

Please read the above poem again. But, this time, read it aloud and slow down. Let it sink in. These words are very important. We need to understand the deeper, human and ecological impact of war. We are very blessed to sit in our safe homes and comfy chairs, in front of our laptops and desktops, but war is devastating our human family RIGHT NOW and we need to let our leaders know this is not okay.

I wish you all love and peace.

13 September 2007

Searching for Onions

Searching for onions. Papery skin. Odoriferous stench. My heart clenches then breaks open with the slicing of layers. I sink deeper. Deeper into the earth. Loose dirt. Soft, holy ground. My toes digging into the mud. Near a sprinkler. Water gushing between pipes. Dragonfly wings. Dead, iridescent. Trapped in brown goo and water. Sunlight resurrection. My mind sucks in the onion breath. The stench. The slimy mush my cousins used to throw at my back. I tried to return the toss, but missed. Root rot. Rotten onions. Nothing salvageable. Full moon harvest on Halloween left for the sheep. All that work and the sheep ate the onions. I smell them now and get nauseous, but at the same time my heart leaps, my spirit jumps. I'm so close to home. Home, where we rode in the back of grandpa's brown and tan pickup truck. Me and my brother and four of our cousins. Early morning dew and onion smell. A mile, maybe, from our house to his. Onion field waiting. Truck kicking up dust. The fast sound of gravel crunching under tires. The clanking and thumping of wood and metal weeding sticks tossing around the back of the truck. Around our feet and legs. Arriving. Me, teased because I woke up extra early to shower and style my hair before farming. Strapping on homemade weed bags. Big leather belts with burlap sacks attached. Grandpa punched the holes himself to better fit our tiny, adolescent waists. Walking. Weeding sticks in hand. One foot, next foot. Stick ready, eyes a few feet ahead. Weeding, walking, meditating. I learned to write poems in Grandpa's field. Cousins asking for stories. Me, telling what rolled off my tongue and out of my heart. From the black earth of a Lake Labish onion farm. My grandpa, Bud. Telling us which weeds to eat-- Mustard Seed, Milkweed. I wish I had been brave enough to eat them. He warned us against Deadly Nightshade. Told us the story behind the name "Shelly Weed." He had the cleanest fields and the happiest grandchildren. "Grandpa, can we have suckin' candy?" Cinnamon and butterscotch and peppermint discs emerged from the front pockets of his blue and white striped overalls. Blue hat precariously perched on the top of his head. Shading his eyes.

Motanic Baby--A Relative


11 September 2007

And So I Return

I have mended my life and put it back together in a new and beautiful form. I have just returned from my second trip to study with Natalie Goldberg at the Mabel Dodge Luhan House. Above is a class photo (for more pictures check out: www.tootallmoul.com). It was an experience that has helped re-shape the direction of my writing. I have a renewed focus and know what I will write about. I have moved to Portland where there is a plethora of opportunity in the literary world. Tonight, for example, I will listen to Sherman Alexie speak. (Read...The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in Heaven). In a couple of weeks Alice Walker will be speaking down the road from my new apartment and you can be sure I will attend. I have a new and wonderful job at Portland State University where I will be able to work a full-time, regular schedule, leaving me room for writing practice and literary events in the evenings. I plan to start a writing practice group as well as a wiccan group here in Portland. I feel renewed and energetic. Ready to direct my energy into work that is fulfilling, creative and beneficial to all beings. And so, with a new home, new partner to share it with and a city filled with literary opportunity I return to a new blog with the idea to keep all my friends and family updated to my goings-on.