Giraffes split the horizon like skyscrapers
strolling slow yet loftily, apparently unaware of
Anteater below built so close to the ground,
with his snout buried in dried mud hill
like a homeless man scrounging through a dumpster.
Hoards of Hyenas, howling and screaming remind us
of the din of downtown Manhattan traffic at lunch hour.
The enormous elephant rumbles towards the water hole
lumpy and heavy, reminiscent of a fat bodied bus,
appearing wider at the top than at its base.
Homo-sapiens scurry down side walks,
popping in and out of the coffee shops,
eyes to the ground or vacantly staring ahead;
already peopling the destination they are headed towards.
The lordly lion lies in the golden grasses surveying his assets.
All other animals move noisily around him,
careful not to make eye contact; to bring attention to themselves.
No one wants to be devoured by “the man”.
* annette
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
A Whimsical Poem
A small tiny gnome, I am
I run here and there, I do
Guessing at the numbers of peach blossoms
I wonder at the content of their glittering stones
Out of the tulip buds come by blood-related gnomes
The filling of pollen falls over them, it does
Then we all start to dance as the greenness and all their colors
open so bright, they do.
Patricia
I run here and there, I do
Guessing at the numbers of peach blossoms
I wonder at the content of their glittering stones
Out of the tulip buds come by blood-related gnomes
The filling of pollen falls over them, it does
Then we all start to dance as the greenness and all their colors
open so bright, they do.
Patricia
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Three Short Poems on Food & Love
This love is a feast,
with foreign & familiar flavors
combined in new delicious ways.
I am well fed.
******
Fresh squeezed orange juice
served by a smiling goddess-
no peeling or chewing necessary.
We drink the thick sweetness-
Sunshine
transformed by living trees
& loving hands
into nectar of vitality.
******
My tribe had only flat bread
Until you gave us leavening—
A mystery that now makes our bread
Rise up, as though alive
And offer up more of itself.
--by Terra Rafael
with foreign & familiar flavors
combined in new delicious ways.
I am well fed.
******
Fresh squeezed orange juice
served by a smiling goddess-
no peeling or chewing necessary.
We drink the thick sweetness-
Sunshine
transformed by living trees
& loving hands
into nectar of vitality.
******
My tribe had only flat bread
Until you gave us leavening—
A mystery that now makes our bread
Rise up, as though alive
And offer up more of itself.
--by Terra Rafael
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Angels in Form
There have been several times in my life when someone has miraculously appeared in the instant of dire circumstances to help me. I am sure they are Angels in form. This is an awesome experience that I am sure many people share. Usually they are only there for that moment in time, then disappearing namelessly into the background of our lives.
One such instance occurred for me when I was driving down the canyon on a February morning. There had been some snow and ice on the road, but that morning it seemed clear. I was driving what had been my mother’s Rambler station wagon, which had a penchant for fish-tailing. As I was coming around a bend, I came upon a patch of ice and braked. The car spun around with my rear end facing the center of the road and the front angled into the canyon wall. The traffic going in the other direction would not stop for me to back up and head in the right direction. Just then, a large white sedan with a short middle eastern man, chewing on a cigar, appeared. He got out to help me turn my car when a small truck sped around the bend and, seeing us obstructing the road, went between the front of my car and the canyon wall. He flipped over and spilled the contents of his bed which consisted of buckets of small screws and hardware. He was unharmed and somehow the truck was upright on four wheels. The man held the traffic until I could pull off to the side and see how the truck driver was doing. He asked if I wanted his name but I said no, as I didn’t want to involve him. I am sorry that I didn’t get it.
It turns out that there was another accident, just behind me on the other side of the bend. A car went into the rock on the same side of the canyon. If he hadn’t he would have plowed into the white car and it would have been a pile-up. I think the mysterious man was instrumental in keeping us all safe.
Months later, I was in the grocery store and I looked up to see him standing at the end of the aisle, just watching me. I looked all over the store to find him but he had disappeared. An angel, to be sure.
This is just one story and there are others. One, I will write about, but it is much too lengthy for a blog entry, perhaps a chapter in a book.
Recently, however, I chanced upon the opportunity to be an angel for someone else. I was traveling back from California and going though the security check with by carry-on luggage. A young woman of about twenty was in front of me and they stopped her bag to inspect it. Attached to the zipper, but tucked into the suitcase, was a strange device. It looked like a large fat metal pen with ridges in the handle so that fingers could grip it firmly. The tip was pointed. They began to question her and she turned to me and said that her girlfriend’s father had given it to her for walking across campus and told her to keep it on her key chain. Well, all the silent alarms went off for security and they told her it was a weapon, whose name I did not catch, and there was a $15,000 fine and imprisonment for having such an item. They brought the distraught girl into the center glassed area. I told her to breathe. Then they went into my bag. I was carrying an unopened jar of peanut butter. I had a moment of time to be with her, since they put my bag through the line again. I told her that it would be all right, as I knew it would be, and again had her breathe with me and put Light around her. She thanked me and I went on.
I have held her in the Light since. It feels good to pay my Angel dues forward.
Prema Rose
One such instance occurred for me when I was driving down the canyon on a February morning. There had been some snow and ice on the road, but that morning it seemed clear. I was driving what had been my mother’s Rambler station wagon, which had a penchant for fish-tailing. As I was coming around a bend, I came upon a patch of ice and braked. The car spun around with my rear end facing the center of the road and the front angled into the canyon wall. The traffic going in the other direction would not stop for me to back up and head in the right direction. Just then, a large white sedan with a short middle eastern man, chewing on a cigar, appeared. He got out to help me turn my car when a small truck sped around the bend and, seeing us obstructing the road, went between the front of my car and the canyon wall. He flipped over and spilled the contents of his bed which consisted of buckets of small screws and hardware. He was unharmed and somehow the truck was upright on four wheels. The man held the traffic until I could pull off to the side and see how the truck driver was doing. He asked if I wanted his name but I said no, as I didn’t want to involve him. I am sorry that I didn’t get it.
It turns out that there was another accident, just behind me on the other side of the bend. A car went into the rock on the same side of the canyon. If he hadn’t he would have plowed into the white car and it would have been a pile-up. I think the mysterious man was instrumental in keeping us all safe.
Months later, I was in the grocery store and I looked up to see him standing at the end of the aisle, just watching me. I looked all over the store to find him but he had disappeared. An angel, to be sure.
This is just one story and there are others. One, I will write about, but it is much too lengthy for a blog entry, perhaps a chapter in a book.
Recently, however, I chanced upon the opportunity to be an angel for someone else. I was traveling back from California and going though the security check with by carry-on luggage. A young woman of about twenty was in front of me and they stopped her bag to inspect it. Attached to the zipper, but tucked into the suitcase, was a strange device. It looked like a large fat metal pen with ridges in the handle so that fingers could grip it firmly. The tip was pointed. They began to question her and she turned to me and said that her girlfriend’s father had given it to her for walking across campus and told her to keep it on her key chain. Well, all the silent alarms went off for security and they told her it was a weapon, whose name I did not catch, and there was a $15,000 fine and imprisonment for having such an item. They brought the distraught girl into the center glassed area. I told her to breathe. Then they went into my bag. I was carrying an unopened jar of peanut butter. I had a moment of time to be with her, since they put my bag through the line again. I told her that it would be all right, as I knew it would be, and again had her breathe with me and put Light around her. She thanked me and I went on.
I have held her in the Light since. It feels good to pay my Angel dues forward.
Prema Rose
Saturday, April 3, 2010
A Letter to My Body: Jyoti
Dear Patty,
I'm addressing you this way because this was the first name you were given and this was how others addressed you in your early life.
I always appreciated how you regulated the menstrual cycles, never found disgust with any of the body's processes, and had the energy to respond to any stimuli.
You've seen me through five childbirths, several surgeries, a myriad of bumps, bruises, and stitches. You've carried the weight of my emotions, crying jags that lasted for hours as I felt outstripped by outer circumstances.
During the drug days, you suffered the hallucinogens I pumped into you, stretching your brain chemicals and pushing your envelope of reality. For this, I'm sorry and grateful at the same time.
I'm also grateful for the sensitivity yet strength of the nervous system you carry for me to inhabit and use. Just yesterday I had a long talk with mind about its huge impingement upon this small body. I told it that if it wanted to have a continual vehicle for its expression over the next ten to twenty years, it needed to back off and put its massive focus somewhere more benign than just running the nervous system ragged.
So, in closing, please accept my absolute thanks and heartfelt gratitude for being my vehicle of expression this time around. I'll try and be easier in how I navigate in these later years and find time for more relaxation and play.
I'm addressing you this way because this was the first name you were given and this was how others addressed you in your early life.
I always appreciated how you regulated the menstrual cycles, never found disgust with any of the body's processes, and had the energy to respond to any stimuli.
You've seen me through five childbirths, several surgeries, a myriad of bumps, bruises, and stitches. You've carried the weight of my emotions, crying jags that lasted for hours as I felt outstripped by outer circumstances.
During the drug days, you suffered the hallucinogens I pumped into you, stretching your brain chemicals and pushing your envelope of reality. For this, I'm sorry and grateful at the same time.
I'm also grateful for the sensitivity yet strength of the nervous system you carry for me to inhabit and use. Just yesterday I had a long talk with mind about its huge impingement upon this small body. I told it that if it wanted to have a continual vehicle for its expression over the next ten to twenty years, it needed to back off and put its massive focus somewhere more benign than just running the nervous system ragged.
So, in closing, please accept my absolute thanks and heartfelt gratitude for being my vehicle of expression this time around. I'll try and be easier in how I navigate in these later years and find time for more relaxation and play.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Camping With Horses
Yesterday we broke a record in Colorado as the temperature climbed to 82 degrees.
I was stuck in a classroom in downtown Denver but I did step out at lunch to feel the sun on my face. Spring fever, full moon dreaming, my thoughts stray to all of the fun ahead for us this summer. I will never forget the first trip I went on with Larimer County Horseman's Association up the Poudre Canyon to Jack's Gulch.....
Camping with horses takes a lot of planning and quite a bit of gear. However, I was with five women and I had more experience than anyone. YIKES!! I had only been horse camping once ~ one time ~ with my sister and her (now ex)husband. We had driven into the back country of the Gunnison Wilderness Area and for five days I had the time of my life. My brother-in-law was generally just an ass, but he was actually an ass-et on this trip as he had done a lot of camping with horses. I learned a lot thank God, but I didn’t have any of the fancy gear he had.
But I must tell you, we women pulled our resources together and went to work. We did not have the pipe corrals that we thought we were going to have. However, within an hour, we had fashioned a couple of high lines that we could tie our horses to overnight. A highline looks like a clothes line strung between two trees, as high as you can get it, and you tie your horse’s lead line to it. We had brought our weed free hay and our horse’s water buckets. About an hour after we had found our camp site, we gathered up our chairs, poured ourselves a drink, set the camera on the hood of the truck and hit the timer. We have this great picture of us, with our horses eating quietly in the background, setting in OUR camp. It is precious.
* annette
I was stuck in a classroom in downtown Denver but I did step out at lunch to feel the sun on my face. Spring fever, full moon dreaming, my thoughts stray to all of the fun ahead for us this summer. I will never forget the first trip I went on with Larimer County Horseman's Association up the Poudre Canyon to Jack's Gulch.....
Camping with horses takes a lot of planning and quite a bit of gear. However, I was with five women and I had more experience than anyone. YIKES!! I had only been horse camping once ~ one time ~ with my sister and her (now ex)husband. We had driven into the back country of the Gunnison Wilderness Area and for five days I had the time of my life. My brother-in-law was generally just an ass, but he was actually an ass-et on this trip as he had done a lot of camping with horses. I learned a lot thank God, but I didn’t have any of the fancy gear he had.
But I must tell you, we women pulled our resources together and went to work. We did not have the pipe corrals that we thought we were going to have. However, within an hour, we had fashioned a couple of high lines that we could tie our horses to overnight. A highline looks like a clothes line strung between two trees, as high as you can get it, and you tie your horse’s lead line to it. We had brought our weed free hay and our horse’s water buckets. About an hour after we had found our camp site, we gathered up our chairs, poured ourselves a drink, set the camera on the hood of the truck and hit the timer. We have this great picture of us, with our horses eating quietly in the background, setting in OUR camp. It is precious.
* annette
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