AD.

WALKING ON THIN ICE

Summer Solstice Thoughts

Paco Pena remembering quiet moments. Maybe he was with his woman on a beach. Maybe Paco Pena was throwing a frisbee to his dog. Maybe he had moments of introspection about the day on the beach with his dog and his woman. Maybe the dog had moments of her own. And his woman, she sure had moments, holding the wine glass, fruit squeezed into juice fermented into sunshine distilled by queendoms of bees, creatures of it all.

How some songs elicit thoughts of quiet times. How some sound elicits thinking about quiet, distilled quiet. How velvet of quiet can be found with velvet of sound.

How I would like to find in everything so much which yields like jewelweed sprouting seed into my fingers, my eyes irises to meet and greet. I’d make so many places for bees to comb and want to be the combing, the bees, the flower and the crops, too. This is the place of sun spun tissues.

~ Lady

Fairyland is Everywhere; There is a Mountain

“First there is a mountain, then there is no mountain, then there is.”
~ Donovan

 

Elgin Watch Father Time

Dear Beings of the Universe/Good Luck Charmers,

The moon is full. We are on the Quest. We set off this morning, our little quest within the big Quest. We are going to Fairyland, which is good because I am not just Lady, I am a fairy. We will tell the beings in the basement under Fairyland our stories from Stations of the Lost and Found.

This Fairyland we’re going to is in Minneapolis. On the way, we are stopping in Elgin:

  • Much of Elgin is in the county of Kane.
  • Elgin National Watch Company’s logo features Father Time.
  • Elgin has a Symphony Orchestra and some examples of homes in the Queen Anne style.
  • The Indian Removal Act of 1820 and the Black Hawk Indian War of 1832 led to the expulsion of Native Americans who had settlements and burial mounds in the area.

So that Act was 193 years ago, basically, two or three lifespans ago, roughly 8 generations ago. How could one possibly justify the expulsion of Native Americans? What were the settlers thinking? And so overtly, too: the Indian “Removal Act.” It led to the Trail of Tears. Interestingly, many ethical Christians protested the act.

So there’s this potpourri of information that one can dig into—what parts of it apply to the Quest?

What I know:

  • I am a fairy and we are going to Fairyland.
  • I was asked to ask Brahman to stop the suffering of Samsara. This is part of my long quest and what I was told in the Dream.
  • I am Lady of the Church of Not Quite So Much Pain & Suffering.
  • Native Americans figure.

I like time and the thought of going West on a quest. East, too, but I’ve been more East than West.

Peace & blessings & love,

Lady

P.S.: I would like to leave you here with a Bree poem from the new Matter Ring:

The Riser

east-of-the-sun-west-of-moon-webYou are the bartender salting the rim
of the earth. You are shaking things up,

good company.

You are the hostess the whole room
rounding while we straighten our shirts
in the mirror moon easily makes
of your eyes,

good company.

The salesman on the ready, always, you
make something out of us, like it was
no thing, this us. And this is us waiting.
We are what we make of each others army.

And you time things right, ever the
doorman, you of the first infantry, opening
into us, you also pull away from us, and off
of us rise.

~ Bree

 

Stopping human trafficking

It’s very strange to me that lately there’s been all this stuff to raise awareness of human trafficking. It hadn’t really hit my consciousness until a couple months ago when I came across a project. People are knitting scarves that look like chains and selling them to raise funds to benefit a human trafficking prevention program. Apparently, trafficking’s been happening not only in third world countries, but right here in the U.S.

Being ever of a diagnostic mindset, I have ideas about the underlying reasons. I think that primarily the cause has been the idealization of youthful partners for sex, that some who suffer from immaturity have been going after kids because of mental and societal illness.

I wonder if we stop having so much sexually-laced context in our media that will help? And/or at least show sexiness as something that can include wrinkles and gray hair and stop characterizing it as something primarily youthful? And stop having sex as a primary goal for human beings, but rather, the full smörgåsbord of relationships?

I used to think it was OK to have strip clubs & pornography. Really am not sure now. I can’t condemn someone for stripping & doing porn. But I am not sure that it is a healthy thing in general. Nude statues are OK and certainly sex education is desired, and certainly art that explores the human form and burlesque are very valid and desirable. But I don’t think the prevalence of less artistically redeemable forms of pornography is mentally healthy for us.

Some of us have abused men in this culture, not only women, and this could be a root of the problem. Many have seen the whole sex as an oppressor class, and perhaps some men have therefore felt that it has been expected of them to have immature desires. What if we focus more often on the capacity of men to be nurturers, sensitive, and mature? What if we raise up good role models in the media more frequently? Let’s let men have drum circles and gatherings, and women have drum circles and gatherings, and men and women have drum circles and gatherings. Let’s drum this good stuff up.

The use of the words “mature” and “adult” is interesting to me as well, considering that in contemporary shorthand context, it tends to refer to content that contains pornography. I would like for us to see these words employed more in the traditional context, where these words mean something quite different in an asexual way–they mean “responsible,” “aged,” and “experienced.”

Unicef project to end human trafficking…

~ Lady

Fabric of Reality

Benevolent little dolls

I’ve been working on these little animal dolls from a book my mom gave me for Christmas. I use some old, meaningful clothing. Not only is it a way of revering nature by adoring the animal form, but it’s a means of processing my past and reformulating it for the future. The first animal I made used material from my grandma’s pants, a little bunny.

Grandma was very particular about her clothing. She would hem it up, give it customizations. She made little splits on the backsides of those pants so that she could easily put boots on underneath. When she died, I got boxes of her clothes.

Grandma and I were close. I’d think of her and the phone would ring and it would be her, lots of times. I do this with lots of people, but particularly her. Mom says Grandma’s fashion sense changed in her last years here-in-the-flesh and the reason was because I came back to the country.

We inspired each other. When I got back, everyone wanted to give me clothes, beautiful clothes. So lots of flowing, colorful skirts, typically matched with a t-shirt or round necked black shirt. And grandma dressed like a little elf with cheerful too-short-for-her-age skorts, skirts, pastel striped shirts and flower patterns.

I am making these little animal dolls with the thought that they will bring good luck to whoever has them, or if the person already has good luck, it will just be a little heap of additional good luck. And it’s also about revering what I’ve been through, revering time, making use of my hands for something. I went to a poetry reading with a doll I was working on and whenever someone had soothing words, words that weren’t upsetting, I stitched the words into the doll. So I’m hoping that it helps secure those good words into the fabric of Reality as well, and secures the caring types of actions that Grandma did (she was such a lovely, loving, appreciative person) into reality as well.

~ Lady

Thanksgiving as a time of progress

At Thanksgiving I think about the abundance that will be on the table, interacting with family members and the bustle of preparation. I think about pleasing people and pleasing my stomach. I think about symbolism and pleasing tradition while making progress.

I remember Thanksgivings past, the huge table and commotion at Grandma and Grandpa Ireland’s house. I imagine my Grandparents looking in on these words and looking in on us and helping when they can. I’m looking at a photo of them as young adults and I wonder what it was like for them–they must have been almost as responsible as they were when I knew them. I imagine them being much like my brother Jonathan and new sister Dedra setting up business. My grandparents were industrious.

And the holiday’s about giving thanks for the harvest. We have so very much abundance here that it’s a concern that we do not overeat. How fortunate we are. Even very poor people here quite often have enough to eat, although there is much to do to make sure that healthy food is affordable and accessible to everyone.

How can we work our harvest better? By making the healthy stuff more prevalent, by being more ethical in how we grow it and what we consume. By being kinder to Mother Earth so she can provide harvests for us in good health.

Reaching into the gist of the moment, putting my hand into the gist of the moment, what I’d like to do is really make stronger connections. Not to be poignant for poignancy’s sake, but to make progress.

Progress in our relationships–fulfilling the promise of how we thought we were going to be as capable adults now that we are older. Progress in my relationships. So Thanksgiving is not just a time to give thanks, but to show action concerning our thanks. To work on relationships. To use the dividends of our continuing maturity. To be what we can be.

I remember a family meal Smith & I were invited to in Mexico by a serious young man who practiced English with us. He addressed everyone around the table individually and thanked them for how they contributed to his life. This was during a dinner he put together because he was leaving Mexico to be a student in Canada.

I would like to do this at our gatherings, foster this kind of serious joy in recognizing each other’s importance. Perhaps some formality or format helps, even a game? We can foster this.

At Thanksgivings at my Aunt Jan’s and Uncle Jim’s, we have gone around the table and individually articulated what we are thankful for… can we take this opportunity today?

~ Lady

Goddess on Gaia

I have this theory that Hurricane Sandy is a manifestation of Goddess on Gaia. Gaia is upset because people in power haven’t been heeding her warnings enough. First she sent an earthquake to Christ Church, New Zealand. She chose Christ Church not because She has particularly ill feelings towards the people who live there, Christ, and church, but because maybe She was thinking, “OK, how do I make it obvious to people that I’m pissed off and want them to stop polluting so much, degrading the environment so much, eating animals so much? I’ll go for something to get their attention. Christ Church.”

Well, that didn’t work. Most people were somehow oblivious. So maybe Gaia got even more pissed off, and conveniently found a city named “Fukushima,” which reminded her of the phrase “Fuck you.” Not that She was angry specifically at the people of Japan or the people of Fukushima (except for proponents of nuclear power, perhaps). It was just a way to say, “Look here, I’m communicating with you. You didn’t get ‘Christ Church’ and wrote that off to coincidence. But Christ Church followed by ‘Fuku’ shima? That I don’t think you’ll write off.”

And maybe She’s not even angry, but just concerned about people and animals and has decided to appear angry to get our attention, but now we’ve got a megastorm right before election day, and I don’t think it’s a coincidence. This is the planet saying, “See, here I am, and I have this stuff I could do that might make things a *tad* uncomfortable to you. So please heed. Do not break into my skin and fracture my rock. Do not blow the tops off my mountains. Do not kill so many of my creatures. Do not irradiate the environment. Do not drill for gas and oil so much.”

Here’s what She commands our elected people to do: help wild creatures thrive in the wild again. Tap into gentle energy from wind and solar and wave and maybe even geothermal. Develop smart energy grids. Help us stop having so many human babies–let’s value the present and future for all children. Eat more organically farmed, non-monoculture-crop non-GMO food. Live more according to the environment’s needs.

Elected people and wealthy people have reason to heed this. It is worthwhile to have as much environment as possible left unspoilt, given over to wild animals. The pleasures of this life are found by eating healthy food, seeing that people are happy and seeing the beauty of nature and making worthwhile accomplishments in art, poetry, literature, film, engineering, teaching, etc., and all according to best practices… and surely wealthy and elected people are interested in the pleasures of this life.

~ Lady

Reconnecting with the lost tribe

Grandma is dying, sometimes calmly, sometimes poignantly in a bed in my Mom & Dad Green’s living room. “I’m so happy, I’m so happy,” she said several times yesterday. I am too. I am glad that she is not dying slowly and/or painfully in a nursing home, but quickly and surrounded by family.

“Now it’s your turn to hold Reality together,” I told Mom. Me, I’ve been forgetting pots and pans on the stove during this time. Three times in three days. I think I’m taking a little vacation from conventional aspects of Reality to handle some shaman duties like rainmaking.

I’m doing a lot of thinking about tribe, family–the good aspects of it and community. I’d like for us to reclaim community, tribe, family. Not the ill parts of nationalism, but more of a global thing yet also local. Refined, iterative, nuanced, compassionate, discerning. I’d like for us to reconnect with the lost tribe of extended family.

I think social media and the Internet is a great way to reconnect families that have been estranged from each other by virtue of distance and the frenetic pace of how we have been living.

Seeing Dad Green hold my cousin’s head on Skype screen, seeing her talk with Grandma swaddled in bed… “I love you, I love you, I love you” and tears flying at the screen. The immediacy of it so heartwrenching but beautiful. We editorialized a bit and my cousin said, “We don’t yet have etiquette for this, do we.”

It is valid, this part of modernity. We should claim it and know how to apply it wisely. We should. Let us see our families’ faces again. Let’s forget about TV but instead use these other screens–let’s connect face to face again. Slowly, calmly, wisely, discerningly. I am vowing to Reality to do so.

~

One of the things we used to do when we lived in smaller communities was to talk about tribal matters together. I think one of the big issues facing our tribe is how we obtain energy. So around Grandma’s bed in my Mom & Dad Green’s living room, I talked with family yesterday about the fracking issue, and how it is important to protect our holy waters.

~

My brother is marrying next month. I am so happy about this. I’m so happy, I’m so happy.

~

I worked all weekend on Grandpa’s memoir to get it through another edit so that Grandma can see it before she dies and know that the family is getting copies ASAP. The proof will arrive today or tomorrow and as soon as it gets here I’m rushing it over to her.

I am glad that Grandpa’s memoir and Smith’s memoir are both being printed at the same time. I feel so blessed with these projects.

The name of Grandpa’s memoir is “Learning to Swim,” humorously, after his having been born in a toilet. But the title is a metaphor for life. It’s about being thrown into life and making the most of it the best way one can, as he did.

Here’s my back cover blurb:

Thurman James Ireland was born in a toilet in Cleveland and came of age during the Great Depression. Checker Ice Cream Bar vendor, automobile mechanic, World War II Veteran, proprieter of Ireland’s Garage, father and foster father, Appalachian Trail Scoutmaster, de facto engineer for Ingersoll Rand and role model to many, he built his own house and practiced the philosophy of living life completely.

Readers can benefit from his down-to-earth, pragmatic wisdom and self-taught, articulate manner of explaining reality. His tales of problem-solving with Ingersoll Rand show life and work are not just “by the book” but totally hands-on and interconnected with the human condition.

~ Lady

I SEE THE FIRECRACKER STARS

I SEE THE FIRECRACKER STARS
(for smith)

If I run
if I listen
if I sit
if I walk
if I drive

If I am quiet inside
for a while

Let still
the hard banter

Let still
the goals

Let still
the grip

Let settle

Let settle
deep inside

lightly

nestle

listen

Wind kindles
stillness slightly

Wind kindles
water in the well

Wind touches

Wind coaches

I close my eyes and wait
and look inside

Ideas
are behind my eyelids

Sometimes the ideas
look like words

Sometimes the ideas
look like eyes

Eyes blinking at me
from the screen
of my closed eyelids

Eyes looking at me
out of firecracker
mandalas

Thus This has eyes
ideas
and wind

This comes
from deep
slow
soft places

It catches me,
the soft wind

It catches me
in a thorough net
of gentle
permeation

It catches me
when I let go
of the video camera
of the goal
of my quotidian ambition

Or sometimes
it catches itself
to my video camera
if my video camera
looks like a fun ride

Sometimes the wind
and the ideas decide
the video camera is a fun ride
and they run with it and
sometimes the video camera
is a caliper with sails
and sometimes
the caliper with sails
is a church
with an antenna

And sometimes
the antenna has legs
into the ground of being

And sometimes
the ground of being
sprouts two lovers
groom and bride

The lovers are part
of the sticky ground of being
they stick by means of gravity

Gravity through Mother Earth
permeates and pulls us

Gravity moves Two
back to One again

Fastened forms
mud and blood
we throb

Gravity is love
and it fastens the soles
of our feet on this ball set on course
through itself

Following the wind
of the sun

Slogging through it,
slogging through itself,
warm form slogging through itself,
warm form embracing itself,
warm form when I wrap my arms
into You

Warm form
clumping together,
clasping itself,

Threads
when we clasp,
embrace

I lay myself into you

Looking into the thrub of your chest
I see the firecracker stars

The graced transcendence
behind our eyelids

The eyelid
of your chest

The eyelids
of our Aye

~ Lady

 

AWAKENING THE DREAMER

AWAKENING THE DREAMER

For the Awakening the Dreamer meme by the Pachamama Alliance

The Pachamama Alliance was born out of an invitation from the Achuar people to work in partnership with them to preserve their land and culture while bringing forth a new worldview that honors and sustains life.

i looked at the sun
looking at me
and the after effects
circles like blue eyes

then i looked at the cat
looking at me
her retinas in creature
shine mode

bold sun bounding
bouncing peering
pairs
echoing eyeshine
vibing cat, sun, me, see

animal eyeshine

tapetum lucidum

bright tapestry

animal eyeshine
lets animals
see better in the dark
collect low light
a mirror
on the retina

so when they open
their eyes
they dream world
even in low
low light

eyeshine

dream world

eyeshine

much better for them
to dream the world
at lower resolutions
and higher ones
than humans

much better
for them to dream
watering holes
mice
pathways through
darkness
consensus sniffing
knowers feeling
guidelines

ways illumined in their
minds

fur shine

humans,
we make love in the dark
find pathways
by candle
wet wickt
caverned

taut tunneled

dream world

honeyed sun

fertile dirt

crumbs
in cracks
of hand

ants

delicious

 

~ lady