Deep in my desert canyon
Subtly slipping into my peripheral vision,
That fades into my grandmother’s
It sprawls like a Sunday nap
Adorning half a dozen plain grey shrubs
With the glory of a morning
That hints at fall and the fading of the
It draws me close in to see its darker
The vines twisting and winding and binding,
Reminiscent of my gut when I am feeling
I pluck a piece, craving to have tea
With this enigmatic hopeless beauty.
By the time I am able
To quench our thirsts
The blooms have retracted
Into the color of heaven and an exquisitely
A reflection of the menopausal woman
That I am now.
….there i am, little white figure, down in the vortex….
One of the great deep treasures I have in my life is this abundance of incredible women who each has a depth and utter sweetness that embodies the archetype of wise woman…it truly is like being surrounded by a bunch of adoring grandmothers, unconditional love and vast nurturing in many precious varieties. I am blessed beyond any imagining.
Many of them recently helped me to celebrate a rite of passage for me, the thirteenth moon after my last period. I don’t know if that makes them bekanntschaften badische zeitung
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my cronies or my moonies….I was too busy basking in their love to remember to take many pictures, but here are a few below and one of the rising full moon that night.
What a ride it has been since my last entry…could write a book…but today I was actually inspired to make a short, sweet entry. One thing I do every day, in addition to getting walked by the dogs, is to check out the Astronomy Picture of the Day. It helps me adjust my perspective and zoom way out. I find it very helpful, especially in these crazy times when what I see here on this little planet is so hard to digest.
What a surprise this morning when they had…well essentially a version of me…as the featured picture and story. It is of the crater GALE on MARS and they will LAND there on the next nasa mission in August, 2012. I think I’ll go along!! Makes me feel 4 years old…
Here is a link (you may have to cut and paste because I am not adept at all this yet) to the picture/ story on the NASA site and I’ll include a copy of the picture below:
gale mars land
This really is how it feels when the monsoons hit at night!
Mmmm and I love the smell of the grateful desert. I don’t know if I could have ever understood truly the meaning of a rain dance had I not been a desert dweller.
Wrestling with the heat dream…tossing…hot…fits of sleep. Dog breathe in my face? Am I in bed? crrRRRRRRASHBOOOOOOoom. He rubs/hides his head in the crook of my neck. My golden retriever is afraid of thunder.
Hallelujah, hallelujah rejoice, it is the blessing of the first thunderstorm of the season and we are doubly blessed because rain accompanies this cacophony! At the edge of dream land, I luxuriate in this delicious multi sensory experience. This is surely the smell of heaven wafting ozone mingled with the first fat fully formed drops of actual for real rain. Their absence made my heart grow fonder. Flashing is blinding because it is night, ripe with the contrast of light and dark, the blessed and best time for these storms. Abrupt cracking of the aire nearby so I can feel the slight pressure wave go by. Wind howls in competition and blows in all the open windows and doors announcing its dance truly ebullient caressing all physical objects in its path.
I am sorely tempted to go out on the upper balcony and really be in this and feel it more intimately on my skin and face. In retrospect, I cuss at myself and my fear. If I got to choose a death, it would be by lightning in such a storm, crazy romantic idea. May be the next time I’ll overcome my fear and exhilarate as the storm melts my humanity…
The extremes and subtleties of the desert are a phenomenal teacher….to feel the opposites deep in the flesh. Imagine being exposed to the relentless sun of a June mid afternoon, over one hundred degrees of temperature and only a few measly percent humidity. A wind that could be coming from a blast furnace and turn a living being to a mummy in short order. Don’t talk and walk together or your mouth, throat, sinuses, and deep into your chest will curl up like a dried leaf. Only shade for the tiny below a wicked bush called cat claw that shreds unfurred skin.
It seems pushed to further extremes this year…we’re surrounded by fires burning the usually cool forests on the ‘sky islands’ that bracket our furnace valleys. The very weird multiple day freeze this past winter that reconfigured the herbage and precious leaves so that if you even look at them they crumble to dust. Not to mention the volcanic hot flashes that stop me dead periodically, the heat not only coming from without but burning within.
But this all sets me up for sublime appreciation…
I come back from my morning walk with the dogs to sit in my overstuffed cool leather chair under the fan in my cave of a house with all the windows covered and savor what must be sacred water, really feel it flow down into my being, accompanied by the utter delight of the sound of trickling water in the fountain nearby.
And yesterday evening I smelled a few molecules of water in the air and wondered where they were last. It is only because I’ve been hammered by the non ness of water for months now that I am able to detect such minute amounts. My tissues recognize the subtle change and dare to dream of dancing naked in the monsoon rains.
this desert is a master teacher in appreciation as are my dogs…an extreme contrast today from the unusual winter snow in the photo above to the current blast furnace with fires burning all around…just getting the hang of this blog device…more once i figure this out #!?
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