Goose Lake & Panther Creek
Me. Lorax
Rock climbing. Lake swimming.
Reflective. Exhausted.
August dust. Red hillside rocks.
Sunset. Bedtime stories.
Fire. Rose wine.
Content. Just to be here in this time. In this place. With these feelings. With this deep dig into the senses. Where I can feel my breath flow in and out of my lungs. Where I can hear nothing but the symphony of the forest all around me. Where my heart has the space to wander into its deeper chambers. Where my mind can churn and chew on all the shifts, transitions, and possibilities without disruption. Sweet and sacred solitude here in this place where there are no other people anywhere near by.
And I sit with the awareness of just how much I revel in the luxury of precious solitude.
I explore all my hidden crevices, taking an assessment of who and where I am these days. The emotional hygiene equivalent to flossing.
I ask that familiar question; what is alive in my heart, mind, and body right now?
Bliss. Gratitude. Prayer. Song. Longings and body aches.
I assess that I am doing purdy damn good.
The fire crackles and burns strong. The moon rises high in the sky. Lorax lays his head on my body and together we wait for the stars fill the sky. We've come to watch the Perseid meteor shower, but he falls asleep before a single star falls. I lay him in his bed, and come back to lay beside the fire. Sip on some more rose wine.
I sit with this moment, letting the pulses of pure contentment ripple through my body. I take a somatic snapshot, hoping that it imprints and is fluent in the language of the limbic system.
I stand, raise up the fire, and call on south. I reflect on the deeply intimate relationship that has developed between fire and I this year. There was so much stuff to burn through. And I am so thankful for fire's capacity to destroy and transform. Profoundly thankful.
But for this ritual I work with fire in a whole new way.
Morning Repose
Lichen. Snags.
Sun beams rising. Morning fire.
Bugs buzzing. Bird song.
Sore body. Cold toes.
Take in a breath of gratitude, offer thanks to this land that held me through the night and stood sole witness to my ceremonies. I pray that my offerings may feed the spirits and ancestors of this land.
I make efforts to store and remember the images and felt experiences of the night so that I can pull them readily the next time I need to think happy thoughts.
Naked body. Hot fire.
Drum beating. Voice singing.
Waxing moon. Meteors falling.
Blood offering. Energy rising.
Energy releasing. Rest.
Its a long way home.