10.18.14 "Into The Darker Circles of Return"

Within the circles of our lives we dance the circles of the years,
 the circles of the seasons within the circles of the years,
the cycles of the moon within the circles of the seasons,
the circles of our reasons within the cycles of the moon.

Again, again we come and go,changed, changing. 
Hands join, unjoin in love and fear,grief and joy. 
The circles turn,each giving into each, into all.

Only music keeps us here,each by all the others held.
In the hold of hands and eyes we turn in pairs, 
that joining joining each to all again.

And then we turn aside, alone,out of the sunlight gone

into the darker circles of return."

-Wendell Berry

10.16.14 At 18 I Listened to Gloria Steinem in Central Park: Words Matter

At 18, I listened to Gloria Steinem speak in Central Park, telling so many of us to wake up and notice the labeling of 'he' and 'she' throughout our culture, as a limitation. A political decision. About power. 
'He' serving to represent both sexes, purportedly.
     I fell in love with a lefty who was studying Sexual Politics. I studied history and how 'they' was the operative pronoun, singular or plural, til the 7th century.
     How pronoun use ensured education for males and not females .
     How remediating pronouns back solely to 'He' in laws managed at one point in US history to disenfranchise all female doctors.
      studiously used 'they' and 'them' raising my children.
     Making note of gender, without cause, is akin to making note of RACE or CLASS or sexual orientation, among a few other things. Often, these delineations are simply not pertinent. And often serve as quiet ways of pointing out a person 'a race or sex or sexual orientation or height or age or ethnic origins.
     I changed my children's books, 'he 'and 'she ' to they.
     Those were the days, 35 years ago, when every female animal character in a kid's book had a BOW on their head ,to let you know their sex.
     I was told pink gowns on my infants would 'Turn' the boys gay. 'Wow!' I'd reply. 'Its just like that, is it?!'
Language is powerful. Language is used for power. Language is not something organic, risen up,virgin birth.
I     t's something that reflects culture, impacts culture, and with awareness, words utilized to control and harm and oppress can be taken back, as we fought to take back the night .
     Words matter. Words impact us deeply.
     As such, the gender awareness with regards to language taking place in the world is one more welcome small step toward accuracy and options for all.

10.15.14 Did You Ever Awaken

Do you ever waken, as it slowly comes to you, this day, and not often, that today actually feels like a brand new day?

Like many things ,that often do not seem possible, today are?

It's such a singular feeling, and one that can 

be fostered by us taking care...of ourselves. Our lives.
But there are no guarantees. No passing GO and collecting a deep sense of possibility. 

So when the sense of this comes to us, as we open our eyes and orient ourselves to our self, our body, our circumstance, our day before us, 

and this brings with it that impending feeling of openness- of ability- 

as if the weight of living was lessened in sleep somehow,

as if ease replaced fatigue and responsibility and slowly learning to accept difficult, uncomfortable things, 

well then, what a fine day it is. This day.

10.16.14 Everything In Flux

How many October 17th's have you had the pleasure of living? 
    Fall inches along. Trees yield their leaves, as the forest floor transforms into a spectacular garden of color. 
    The wet earth dampens your sneakers, the mud slides, and the air becomes deliciously pungent with fertility and the approaching fulfillment.
    Of growth. Of babies grown up some over spring and summer. Of insect egg sacks creation and keening parent raptors, calling calling their mate and their young, to prepare.
    For the long flight, or the long spare winter.
    Everything in flux, in change, movement and ripening.
    As human designated October takes yet another step, into one more day.

10.18.14 As Such

     At 18, I listened to Gloria Steinem speak in Central Park, telling so many of us to wake up and notice the labeling of 'he' and 'she' throughout our culture, as a limitation. A political decision. About power.
'He' serving to represent both sexes, purportedly.
     I fell in love with a lefty who was studying Sexual Politics. I studied history and how 'they' was the operative pronoun, singular or plural, til the 7th century.
How pronoun use ensured education for males and not females .
     How remediating pronouns back solely to 'He' in laws managed at one point in US history to disenfranchise all female doctors.
     I studiously used 'they' and 'them' raising my children.
     Making note of gender, without cause, is akin to making note of RACE or CLASS or sexual orientation, among a few other things. Often, these delineations are simply not pertinent. And often serve as quiet ways of pointing out a person 'a race or sex or sexual orientation or height or age or ethnic origins.
    I changed my children's books, 'he 'and 'she ' to they.
    Those were the days, 35 years ago, when every female animal character in a kid's book had a BOW on their head ,to let you know their sex.
    I was told pink gowns on my infants would 'Turn' the boys gay. 'Wow!' I'd reply. 'Its just like that, is it?!'
Language is powerful. Language is used for power. Language is not something organic, risen up,virgin birth.
I    t's something that reflects culture, impacts culture, and with awareness, words utilized to control and harm and oppress can be taken back, as we fought to take back the night .
Words matter. Words impact us deeply.
    As such, the gender awareness with regards to language taking place in the world is one more welcome small step toward accuracy and options for all.

10.17.14 Nothing Holds Back The Night- The Sweet Smoldering of Our Pasts

Nothing Holds Back The Night

Nothing comes up alongside you when you're

fumbling with the static of your

 everyday life, hovering

just beside you; waiting for the next

drop along the path; your crash

the pain unending and

no one would belive it any

way just your beloved who in the

dark takes your only

hand

Can’t you just feel it, irritable jumping

out of your skin as you signal re

treat from the sunset, sub

mission from the bills and con

straints of your health saying

‘yeah you can do this’ and

‘no none of that’ as simply you

bury your face in the ruff of your

nearest canine friend

Wild he knew and signed up for the

nights of 15 minutes you took to

zoom in your vw with no side windows from

Montague to Conway, your Black

Velvet between your legs, swigging as the

road curled before you; he signed

up as soon as he saw you it was

predestination: he is

still full of all the wild

times

But here we are left with

silence between your fingers

pinched between your toes; the glare of

all of your pretending pressed up next to

the dreams you have of what is

actual which only pummels

your unconscious as it leans, hard, into

deeply itself :  insistent into

all your sweetest waking

days

10.17.14 This Indelible whisper

A solitary shawl of dusk

I pull tight about my shoulders

enclosing the day

As this sky deepens with an elegy

only birds sing true

Quiet: hear the insect's indelible whisper

within the season’s unmistakable sigh

10.17.14 More severe thunderstorm warnings

The sky reminds me of Ghostbusters. 

So beautiful, in that

 "Oh please don't whack down any more trees "

 kinda way.

10.17.14 As We Grow Older, We Remember

Sometimes when we wake or step outside or simply look outside, or set off on a walk; or venture off purposefully, we each are so acclimated to where we live : desert or mountains or city or small town or flatlands or hills and valleys, ocean or river or creek or vast fields or forest or cityscape: lush growth or dry lands- that we forget how unique our own place is. 

The place that we live. The place where we have, unbeknownst to us, slithered down deep and lasting roots, so that we become nourished, connected, part of the whole, in this place.

The place that, because we have become known by it, mutually knowing it also, orients us to the phases. In our lifetimes. In the seasons. In the Earth's evolutionary path.

Some of us have moved so many times that when we open our eyes in the morning, or see a painting in a museum or gallery that we love imagining in our front hall, it takes us a few moments to remember ....where exactly it is that we do live. In fact, what it looks like, and where it is situated. Myself, this is true. With good reason. Over 30 places.  

Others of us have lived in the same home or apartments for so many years we can't even remember.  

And some of us live in the homes of our families, which might mean that we have lived there for what we would consider forever. 

Just think of that. For a moment. Both the familiarity, and the vast accumulation of objects. And then the ability or inability to leave. And find a new place, fresh for ourselves. Devoid of the past, be it good or not. 

And yet, somehow people experience being embraced as solace : this very past.

To many of us, the relationship between where we live, and ourselves - has the same dynamic as physicists and native peoples have known exists between the observer and the observed .
Both change. 

Each responds WITH the other. 

There is a responsive relationship there. A knowing. Nothing is static. Nothing remains the same.  

Thus, we realize this occurs between us and where we call home. We impact each other. Each unto each. 

A sense of place is not only how well you know the small gathering of trees and brush that's around your neighborhood gas station. The plants that tend to grow around your porch or your back door. The small bit of woods behind your house that every now and again you stroll through, no matter the weather. 

Or possibly, places you drive-by, and then hear a small voice inside of you, urging you to pull over. Get out. Walk a bit, hands in pockets. 

Listening. Smelling. Noticing what is different today, and what is the same.
As your microbes and your dander and the cells on your hands as you brush them together, and the bacteria that the wind sweeps off of your forehead and sends down into the field below, 

All becomes part of an interaction. That you know not. But does exist. A relationship.  

As we grow older, we remember something we knew when we are young.
And that is that the more aware we are, the more intention we bring to be aware of something, the more depth and breadth the relationship between us and that thing develops. 

Richer. More responsive. Deeper complexity. That's all it take. A sense of knowing. Of not being alone, ever. Because we're not. Ever. 

All it takes is for us to stop, listen, and feel the air, or the rain, or smell ; stop and feel. 

There is a consciousness, waiting there, for us. To awaken. To notice. To open our eyes once again, and become aware.

It's simply remembering what we are born with. Our instincts. The structures of our DNA. What our ancestors simply knew, without studying or reading or asking.