
When you look at life through the lens of dream, everything changes. It's revolutionary.
In support of the dream…
Monthly Archives: February 2012
plenty
The Ferryman is dancing a jig, high knees and fancy feet. He is flinging something out of his pockets into the river. “Plenty for everyone,” he sings. “Plenty, plenty.” He is attracting fish. He is attracting a crowd on the … Continue reading
February is THIS
I lie down. The world is full of crack and sparkle. The sound of laughter. February is an imp, a trickster. She is dancing over my body with her tiny feet. “I cannot wait to open my presents,” she declares. … Continue reading
Posted in Seasons
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enthusiasm
I go to the Wellspring. She sits golden and serene, the water of light flowing up through her and out the top of her head, falling back into itself, an endless return. She is in me, the Wellspring is, everything … Continue reading
Posted in Night Hawk, Wellspring
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my provider
I’m still standing in the river, singing. Birds fly from my fingers. The wind blooms flowers in my hair, my arms and hands, and carries the perfumed petals away into the deep wood. Birds rise from the canopy and descend. … Continue reading
ring of oaks
I give thanks for the ring of oaks that encircles me. First, guardian of the left hand, the gate of sleep and dreaming. Second, guardian of the right hand, the gate of work and craft. Third, guardian of the brow, … Continue reading
Posted in dreaming
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singing gratitudes
The Ferryman paints rays of red and black rising from my eyes, arching across my brow. He runs his finger down the memory braid the Wellspring left in my hair. “Now you’re ready,” he says. I lift my arms, face … Continue reading
Posted in Ferryman
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what comes of this
I walk out from the garden, wanting to be among the buffalo. My feet find an easy path and I follow it up a small rise to a gnarled old tree. The herd is before me, lingering at the shore … Continue reading
Posted in Buffalo Man
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to see the life come into all of this
I am trying to cultivate a garden on my bank of the river. I have laid down rich soils and fenced off the rows, but the hot wind off the plain keeps leaching all the moisture out. I stand with … Continue reading
Posted in Buffalo Man, Ferryman
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Incarnation
We were on the side of a mountain, preparing for something big. A man came to a small house all alone. There was a kind of disturbance of air about him. Or about me when I came near him. I … Continue reading
Posted in dreaming
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