He’s On His Way Home Without Me

He’s On His Way Home Without Me


We knew this day would come.
Preparing for it kept our hearts
slightly guarded,
even though on special occasions
we secretly opened to each other
completely
with reckless abandon,
there were always thoughts unspoken,
worries about the future
swept under the rug
along with all the cobwebs
of each of our very full lives.

He’s on his way home without me,
And for now I am just doing
my best to keep breathing.
I had to be strong for both of us –
what a beautiful parting gift
were his tears,
which flowed freely down his
face as he kissed me goodbye.

And for some reason, I, who
weeps soulfully for so many reasons
on so many occasions,
held my tears back,
And waved goodbye brightly,
visualizing that
golden pyramid of Light
around him
as he walked down the stairs
one last time,
climbed into his Ford Taurus
and drove away.

He took part of my heart
with him,
my tall light bearer,
my partner,
my best friend,
my anam cara for life.

I know not when we’ll
meet again,
but something deep inside
tells me we are destined to.
That our plans for the future
will someday come true.

Until then,
I find comfort
in the refuge of words.
The tapestries of poetry
that you all share so freely,
have filled me up –
I am but an empty chalice
here to allow love and light
flow through me.

And I shall sprinkle words
like rose petals and gemstones
across many sacred paths,
and visualize a Merkabah,
an activated golden Stargate
around us all,
to assist with our ascension,
our transition to the Fifth Dimension,
and a complete and total acceptance
of all of my emotions,
and his,
as this day lingers on,
I will listen to my heart song,
and sing it for him,
and then share it with you.

All My Relations

All My Relations

A’ho Mitakuye Oyasin is a Lakota greeting which is a recognition of the interconnectedness of all of life, that each of us is related in the sense that we are all humans, and we therefore should treat every human being we meet with honor and respect. We also should tread lightly on this earth, and each of us does make a difference. We can learn a lot about how to live in harmony with the earth just by following the principles of this beautiful inclusive saying.

 

Many years ago I was blessed to be invited to ceremonial sweats of the Lakota tradition. That was the first time I remember hearing this transformational phrase. I went to several sweats, my voice joining the others singing songs in a language I didn’t know. But those songs were already within me, and the sweats not only transformed me, they brought me memories of a previous incarnation. The heat inside a sweat can become very intense. It’s important to drink lots of water, and cover up with a towel as close to the edge of the lodge as possible. I never had to leave in the middle, but if someone did, nobody objected or anything like that.

Afterwards I always felt reborn – clean and fresh and inspired. My friends had a potluck dinner after each sweat, which helped ground the energy we had tapped into and filled ourselves up with. Bliss can be quite intoxicating. Talking to my friends I learned we had much in common, for my mother had taught me to have love in my heart for all humanity, and also for all living things. Meeting a whole group of friends who felt the same way and who greeted each other with the beautiful words of “A’ho Mitakuye Oyasin” about a year after my mother passed away brought me closer to that space in my heart where I cherish her still. And the wonderful part about this greeting is that our ancestors are included, for even though they don’t walk in the land of the living anymore, at one time they did. And they continue to live on in our hearts. This is how we truly become part of the rainbow bridge which connects heaven and earth. There are many similar greetings around the world, but this one in particular is my favorite.

Maya


This poem beautifully describes what is going on at this very moment. Extremely well written.

Poesy plus Polemics

mural-bonampak Mayan Wall Mural from the Classic Period

ancient rainforest rituals
temples raised from the mists
feathered serpent and jaguar
ordained new mathematics
uncanny with notions of zero
great calendar wheels turned
through five thousand years
of a wholesome predestiny
vivid with visions of intricate days
to be passed in sublime alternation
of abject adventure and simple
serenity certain as rise of the sun

astonishing accurate tracings
position the past present future
progression of planets and stars
with an eye to the underworld
steeped in its myths of creation
explaining the purpose of history
deified dramas establishing rational
rights to a realm that forever
would stand in its absolute glory
till fate found a way to conspire
with conquest to bring a proud
culture of warrior priests to its knees

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Rainy Days

Rainy Days

It’s raining here in Oklahoma, and this happens to be my day off. No babysitting my bubbly and loving little granddaughter, just my two cats and me, enjoying the sound the rain makes as it splashes off the roof and onto the sidewalk below. My young cat Smudge is scratching at the door because he wants to go outside anyway. He has a whole group of friends with whom he hangs out with. He’s black and white and eighteen months old in human years and his voice is changing. So he meows a lot. There are several young Comcast in the neighborhood with the same condition, and they meow all night long. I frequently mistake one of them for Smudge, but he always jumps onto the living room window to make sure his meow projects all the way through my flat. My nearly nine year old (in human years) tabby Mila only goes out when the weather is to her liking, so she’s contentedly licking her paws by my feet. She’s assigned herself as my personal protector. When I go through rough times she stays right beside me, or even lies on my legs, purring away. She knows better than to jump up on window sills or furniture, and wears a little cat smirk when Smudge does these things, causing me to snap my fingers and make a loud, “Sssssss” sound at him (they hate that noise). My boyfriend laughs and says I sure showed him, but Smudge really is learning. He just figured out I have learned how to tune his persistent pleading meows completely out today. He is not going out in the rain. He just got back home about four in the morning drenching wet. So now he’s resigned himself to taking Mila’s place and curl up on my legs as I write this. She cleaned his ears for him first as she seems to love doing. She actually listens for him when he’s out running around. We live on the south side of town in a large apartment complex which has huge lawns, bushes, trees, and is right next to a golf course which has a river running through it. It’s a cat’s paradise.

Right before one of the full moon’s last Fall, two of Smudge’s little friends came by. They are twins, both completely black and look like Siamese cats, slender, female and very friendly. They climbed onto my balcony from the adjacent low lying roof. I was watching the moonrise and they came right used to me. I called them Midnight and Moonshadow. They actually smelled all my plants and my two fairy gardens, then I opened my door. They came inside and each ate about two bites of food, drank a bit of water, peed in the litter box, let me pet them several times, and then they left. It was so funny. They came over one more time, but their owners probably stopped letting them out. Since female cats begin multiplying at such a tender age.

I have always loved cats. I’ve taken in strays too many times to count. Helped terminal kitties cross over, too. Last year a neighbor brought me a tiny black cat who seemed certain to die of starvation. I gave her many energy healings, and despite her tiny size, she was already able to eat solid food, and little by little she put on weight. My boyfriend said she looked like a Dingo, and he was right, but I called her little D, short for Defiance. And she sure defied death. I had her four months when one of my daughter’s friends called me up to see if I had any cats up for adoption. She adopted her on a Wednesday and named her Wednesday Adams, perfect for a black cat with just a smudge of white in the middle of her forehead and right below her chin.

The purring of cats is one of the most calming sounds in the world. And the rain has muted the usual daytime sounds of the neighborhood, has either stopped or slowed most outdoor activities and the earth is soaking it up. The air needed a good cleansing. The wind is blowing with a bit of northern bite to it, letting us know winter is not completely done (although we haven’t had much of a winter this year at all).

The Moon was full last night and my crystals are all in my window sill, so they could soak up the energy of the moon all night long. The alignment of the stars and the planets in our solar system along with the frequent solar flares have awakened more of my inherent DNA. This has been accompanied by a lot of physical symptoms. I have been drinking lots of purified water, eating lots of fruit and vegetables, and working on balance. Lots of meditation and working on my shadow. Learning to let go has been a huge part of this, and as I let go more and more, my now grown kids blossom more and more.

I look at my cats and see how well balanced they are. They are now lying right next to each other, as contended as can be. They know when to rest, when to play, when to eat and when to stretch. Of course we have to be active a much higher percentage of the time than cats, but we can learn so much from them. They certainly are great companions to have during this earthly journey.

Pregnant and Married at Fifteen


I was just reading an article on Jezebel about David Bowie and Lori Maddox, the teen groupie who gave her virginity to the iconic rock star back in the Seventies, and my knee jerk response was coming to the realization that when I was only fifteen years old myself, I was not at all prepared to consent to a sexual relationship, let alone get married and become a mother, but I did. I hadn’t taken a good hard look at the fact that I had been a mostly unprotected young woman growing up in an overly permissive rape culture. These were questions not being asked at the time.

Being the oldest of five children and secondary caretaker for all, at one point led me to become the sole breadwinner of the family for about a month when I first turned fifteen – washing dishes at a local restaurant. This was a couple of years following her divorce from my first step dad and rapid remarriage to a man I never thought of as a father. I thought of him as an intruder. My mom soon found work again, and my career was halted by the fracture of my tailbone. Sliding down a short concrete waterfall near the fish hatchery, a bit of metal piping was sticking out about two inches, and the sliding over of this caused immediate debilitating pain. My friends had to help me hobble home. My mom didn’t take me to the hospital, so I sat on pillows for a couple of months and toughed it out. The injury showed up on x-rays in later years.

At this point my mother’s alcoholism had become quite severe. She and my new step dad drank about three cases of Coors beer daily, beginning with their first two before ever even getting out of bed. In addition to that, my new step dad was spending his weeks in jail for his second DUI, being released on weekends since he was a “family man.” During a few of these weekends he ended up beating my mother, something I vowed to never let happen to me. This also made me feel protective of my younger siblings. My bio-dad had been out of the picture since I was nine years old and there were some serious communication problems going on with my mom and first step dad, who had been a father to me for ten years. Life was hard at our big house in the country, but it made us strong, and being so close to Nature also fed that wildish nature deep inside all of us, and that was one of the greatest gifts our mom gave us. She taught us how to forage. When we first moved to New Mexico she sewed up a tipi which our family of five plus a cat and a dog lived in for three months out in the Santa Fe National Forest. She made kitchen cabinets out of willow tree branches and dug a Dutch oven for baking bread. Those were the magical memories which sustained all of us when things got rough on the little ranch we lived on. When the issue of survival became a real and ongoing quest which I had to help with, my whole world turned upside down.

I suppose I began dating a man six years older than I was in an attempt to get my mother’s attention. Perhaps it was a call for help. We lived in a small town in the high desert mountains of New Mexico, on one hundred acres of orchard and pasture leading to a beautiful river. I became quite tough and strong at the time by gardening, chopping wood, hiking the two and a half miles to the little store where my mom had credit to buy a few groceries for my brothers and sisters, and many other chores. There were a few times I had to wash the entire family’s laundry in the bathtub, so going to the laundromat was a luxury, and a job I volunteered for every week. I enjoyed the peace and quiet away from home and would always bring reading material. I also gave thanks I didn’t have to hand wash the laundry all the time, since so many women and girls around the world still had to do that. I knew from experience how rough that can be on the hands.

We had lots of perks too. There was a swimming hole across the road and down the mountain from our home. It had a wonderfully large and about twelve foot smooth boulder on the side of the water which we would all climb up on and dive into the ice cold river water. And there were lots of outdoor parties. My mom was fluent in Spanish and extremely friendly, so soon people from around town were stopping by our home to drink some beer with my parents. Our place became known as a party place.

I was only fourteen when I first met the moody, handsome, dark eyed man at a party. He had sent out verbal invitations to everyone in town, including our family, so my mom and step dad took me and left the younger children at home with my little sister in charge. He was drawn to me and my parents almost immediately, and quite soon I was drawn to him, although now I see that I was more in need of a reliable father figure than a romantic partner. It didn’t take long for me to let him make all the decisions, though, and within about three months he was living with me in my mother’s house. My mother was loving and very open although quite spaced out, so her allowing him to live with us seemed like a blessing at the time. I felt safer when he was with me.

It was an old ranch house, most likely begun back in the eighteenth century, with an additional built on every fifty years or so. By the time our family lived there, it consisted of three bedrooms, a large kitchen, good sized bathroom, and a huge living room which was settling over the basement, and sloped downwards by about a 30 degree angle. Every doorway pointed in a different position, and each room has its own style – two adobe rooms, one concrete brick room, one stone and wooden room which boasted windows to the south, west and north, overlooking a tree lined creek which ran behind the house and provided shade in the summer and wind break in the winter. The river was down the hill and across the pasture from the house, and the sounds of the river and babbling of the creek provided a sense of constant comfort, the life giving water always there to remind us of the true nature of life, something which I was already questioning. I was fifteen now and felt like a grown up, not like a child in any way.

After my boyfriend secretly moved in my mom bought me a can of contraceptive foam once, which I was too embarrassed to ask how to properly use. Even though my mom had been very much a part of the sexual revolution, she also had been raised in the Bible belt, and despite her efforts to transcend the hegemony she was raised in, she still passed on some hang ups to me, albeit unconsciously. I know my mother loved me very much. She was an amazing woman filled with love and passion. She was extremely gifted both intellectually, a wounded healer herself, but her judgment was cloudy because of so much drinking. Perhaps she thought that since she had told me about the facts of life as a young girl and had told me about the Pill, that I would also know how to get it, yet I found it impossible to communicate my need because there just never seemed to be the time r space for that. How is it that people ever find it hard to communicate something they need which is so essential? And even when the parent would not condemn this request, but the only problem is her unfortunate disease has distracted her completely, so how could she be reached? I didn’t know how.

And perhaps because I worked so hard to please her, she relied on me more than most parents rely on their teenagers. This also may have been a reason for the permissive attitude, because of our frequent role reversal. I often felt responsible for helping keep her happy, keep her from having blackout rages, and for doing a large portion of the cooking and cleaning for all eight of us (our step dad’s daughter was living with us at the time).

It actually took many months of us living together before I got pregnant. The first two months I just figured my cycle must have been off, since it had only recently begun to regulate itself. I think I was waiting for my mom to notice the change my body was going through. By the time I was four months along, and had gained at least twenty pounds, one day I began asking her questions about her pregnancy with my little brother and all of a sudden she really looked at me, and asked if I was pregnant. So I told her the truth.

I didn’t realize at the time that upon consulting other family members charges of statutory rape against my boyfriend were considered. He had already proposed, and my mother asked me what I wanted to do. At this point her own abusive marriage had deteriorated to the point of complete chaos, and it seemed like taking care of my own husband and my own baby would be easier than living at home anymore. So I chose marriage and we all went to a judge to get signed permission. And four weeks later I was married for the first time, by a justice of the peace in the backyard of my new in-laws.

At first I was in heaven – even with my new husband’s modest salary as a construction worker, we were able to plenty of groceries and having enough food every single day fulfilled many of my immediate needs. And it was easier to cook and clean for the two of us in our tiny little house than it had been living with my own family. I even gained too much weight, with food becoming my main source of comfort. And at the same time, my wildly fluctuating hormones brought on emotions I had never dreamt dwelt within me. It was a case of jumping from the fat into the fire, for sure. Then we moved back into the big ranch home my family had lived in as my mom divorced my step dad and moved closer to Santa Fe. The place apparently called us back. And the rent was quite affordable.

For several years I worked hard at being the perfect wife and mother while also taking in one or another of my siblings for a month or two during another of my mom’s rough patches. We had lots of wonderful times. Some friends have us a Shetland Pony whom we named Flicka. I was able to ride her gently bare backed with my two year old daughter on my lap. She was a wonderful pony and we eventually sold her to some friends who lived way up on a nearby mountain and could give her even more space. I loved her and missed her sorely after she was gone.

When I was eighteen, I single handedly corn bred three pigs wearing my daughter on my back. We raised them for about five months before slaying. These became the main course for a three day feast we held. My ex and his brothers dug three pits which they roasted the pigs in. It was so delicious even our vegetarian friends had some. A few small bands and about four kegs of beer, and a couple hundred people in and out over this time out of time event added to the reason it was talked about for years, as our home and land were the perfect lush setting for that type of celebration. There was a lovely meadow below the creek overlooking the pasture which had some big rocks and extended into crabapple trees on one side and plum and apricot trees on the other. About fifty cattle lived in the pasture, owned by our landlord and adding to the ranch like feel of the place, but it had fallen in disrepair, and the carcasses of abandoned automobiles were left in a few spots about the property, but it was mostly quite pleasant, lots of willow trees along the river and oak trees surrounding the house.

These were the times when many things were changing. Everybody was experimenting with sex, drugs and rock and roll. Getting married may have actually protected me in a way. I was smack dab in the middle of the counter culture and my mom had been a flower child. So the party scene was right in front of mine and my siblings, in our home, not hidden in any way. Luckily, the scene didn’t descend into the world of hard drugs. I never even saw anyone using needles or anything like that. It was mainly booze and a little pot that everyone was doing back then.

At least I didn’t run away and become a prostitute like many young women did at the time. The best-selling book “Go Ask Alice” was made into a movie not long before my family moved up to the country. The horrors described in detail by the unfortunate young girl who wrote this served as a grim reminder of the dangers of the world I was growing up in. Becoming a parent at such a tender age was not easy, but to me it seemed it was my salvation. And looking back on the culture I was living in, I see how I didn’t consciously choose this for myself, but I did go along with it. I didn’t see any safe alternatives. And I definitely chose to become pregnant. And even though my situation was no where as glamorous as the setting Lori Maddox found herself during the same era, it was the same type of cultural acceptance that contributed to our experiences (in my case we kept my relationship secret from school teachers but some found out as it was such a small town).

Lori Maddox still doesn’t think of her experience with David Bowie as rape, and I didn’t think of my early introduction to a serious intimate relationship resulting in pregnancy and marriage as wrong, or that I was coerced into it in any way. I followed my feelings and was allowed to do whatever I wanted, as long as I did my chores and got good grades. I played the family hero at the time, and learned to take care of others long before learning more about myself. I thought of myself as a mountain woman. And I loved reading books about young women long ago who married even younger than I had, along with many other books. This was a huge source of comfort. I always loved reading, another blessing my mom did help encourage in many ways.

My marriage fell apart as I neared 20 and wished to return to school. I had a spiritual awakening in northern California at Campbell Hot Springs, which was run by Leonard Orr at the time, and is not far from Mt. Shasta. My mom and I were working at a New Age bookstore in Madrid at the time, and brought some books and music CDs with us for our booth. My mom and sisters and daughter and I were then blessed to hang out with healers from around the world. We sang songs of love and peace for humanity. We even met Sandra Orr. We were rebirthed many times in the wonderful natural hot mineral springs there. My kundalini rose and I felt my connection to all of humanity. Felt like I was walking about six inches above the ground. A Navajo Medicine Man taught us a rain dance. We all danced together before our departure and it began to rain. It rained and rained (there had been a serious drought) and the rain followed our car across the Mojave Desert all the way back to New Mexico. It seems our car itself was shining, but it was probably just that I was overflowing with bliss, so my perception changed. This was during one of the many times my mom found sobriety and was doing quite well, a shining beacon in the community and quite hard working single mom. There were many times she found the program and those are the memories I cherish to this day.

It was after my second trip up to this sacred place that I realized I did need to get out of that marriage, that I hadn’t had a chance to ever even know myself, let alone the man I married. And his moodiness had increased to the point where he wouldn’t speak for days. He had explosive outbursts also, the main type of experience I wanted to get away from. I didn’t have the freedom to be myself, and although I did love him, we had grown in different directions. I think it was about this time that I realized I had an actual identity and had the right to make my own decisions about my life.

I write this now because my oldest grandson is the age I was when I became pregnant with his mom, my firstborn, my daughter and best friend. And he is talking about getting married to his fourteen year old girlfriend and we are shaking our heads and saying, “No way!” I can’t even imagine him handling that kind of relationship – he is so young! They grow up way too fast! I worry but am relieved that there is at least a more progressive attitude about teen pregnancies and marriage, and birth control is more obtainable in my community than the one I lived in at that age.

My mom died young just a little over seventeen years ago, but I still feel her presence in my heart, looking over her progeny, shining light on us, helping us through the rough times. My first step dad still keeps in touch and got married to his partner of over thirty years shortly after gay marriage was legalized in his state.

Incidentally, none of my kids became parents as teens, and none have become parents except my firstborn. And of my younger siblings, only two have children, which they waited for until their forties. I set a great example of how to not get in the family way too early. I don’t have regrets, but I am thankful my loved ones have learned by watching me.

After my first baby and divorce I thought I didn’t want anymore kids
But the love but struck me many more times, yet it took me twenty years to complete those years of making babies. And that’s another story. Actually, there are many stories. One thing is for sure, my life has been filled with experience. I am rich with experience. And so grateful.

Everything is Changing

Everything is Changing

Everything is changing,
Life keeps on rearranging
as we move closer to the Source,
headed towards peace our course.
Looking up at the bright full moon
let’s see what we can see.
We see our future coming soon,
an unaltered path of Destiny.
We see a Goddess,
filling us with cleansing Light,
filling us with healing energy
through the darkest of dark nights.

Oh, beautiful Goddess smiling
down on all humanity –
embrace us all right now,
grant us peace through all
the insanity of war,
help us to surrender
to the Divine,
give up the hatred,
fear and confusion.
Let us see right now
this is all
but illusion.

Freedom lies

within us all.

Can we stop to hear

Freedom’s call?

When we stop for a moment,
embrace the Silence which is gold,
ever waiting within us
there to guide us
as all masters have long told.

We can unlock Heaven’s gates,
for that key’s within our hearts.
Within this breath
and this heartbeat
is where healing and freedom
truly starts.

@Kamea Moonmaiden

Sunset in Stillwater

Sunset in Stillwater


On the road to Stillwater
long ago, to meet a new lover,
I was enchanted by a crimson sunset
with a purple and indigo sky
just opposite the rising of
a magnificent fuscia full moon.

I stopped by the side of the road
to breathe in all the
beauty of this magical moment –
the moon blushing at her lover,
the sun maintaining his radiant splendor,
so very long awaited,
this chance encounter with his wife.

My heart opened as around me
amethyst and magenta beauty widened –
swirling together in such a Monet
of colors, tints and hues,
rays of golden sunshine,
and patches of turquoise blues,
all mixed by the hands of angels,
carefully prepared for this
rare auspicious moment.

It took my breath away,
I twirled myself around,
feeling my oneness with Creation,
witness to this rendezvous
which the moon had so been longing for.

Twilight’s blanket descended now,
casting deep violet and blue gray shadows
on fringes of green meadows
and forest lined stretches of river.

I thanked the Mother, the eternal giver,
thinking, “What a wondrous gift is this!
You gave us life, then all this splendor –
Nature’s beautiful kiss.”

Nature always provides us
with such gifts.
They are all around us,

if we only

take the time . . .

to pay attention.

@Kamea Moonmaiden