Live the Question

The heat persists and seems to send me into slow motion. Afternoons are spent in a daze, my thoughts melodic yet incomplete. I can’t help but take siesta in the warmest part of the day and come to life in the cool of night, re-membered through dance, love, laughter and longing.

Each morning I watch the sunrise with fascination. As my stiff hand unfolds I ignore the idea that I may have arthritis. My feet are raw and worn but try as I might, I can only bring myself to wear shoes for more than an hour or two. Even as I enjoy the quiet I wonder where the others have gone. I long to connect with my people and am confused by the fact that I could never find them all in one place.

The question that lives in my heart daily: How can I bring my gifts to the world? My not so tangible but ever important gifts. I long to work with others in my unique way, through my understanding of grief and the love that comes with it.

I recognize that it takes a special other to really see me and I am both proud and saddened by this knowing. Is there a time coming that we as humans will recognize each other, no longer afraid of our true nature that exists with nature? Who recognizes themselves in me today? I think of you often, do you think of me? It feels selfish to ask. 

I attempt to conceal myself with old habits and question my place when I look at my depleting bank account. I’m in love with this town and an other in a faraway place. I’m curious to see where my heart will lead and taking in every beautiful moment along the way.

If there is heaviness in my words it comes from these living questions. If there is joy, it comes from the courage of an open heart.

Relationship with Moon

I'm thinking about my relationship with the dear Luna (the moon). It began to intensify for me the last night of the intensive in Peru when the Shaman I was working with in ceremony took me outside and said to me, "Look at the moon, look at Padreo (the sacred mountain) and be grateful." The moon was full and magnificent that night and I was full of gratitude for it and am still. Just hours later, after ceremony, some of us went back outside and the sky was covered with clouds. But still, that evening began a new journey for the moon and I without my knowing it at the time.

Several weeks later, back in Salt Lake City, my housemate at the time suggested that we start doing ceremony together. We decided on doing fire ceremony around the moon cycle. On the new moon setting intentions and on the full moon transforming the energy around things we wanted to let go of. These ceremonies were very powerful for both us, with the energy of the moon, the fire, the directions and each other. I love watching my intentions grow with the moon and feeling my energy rise as the moon becomes full and with it a longing to release.

In the city, I feel tension with the growing full moon, but as I no longer carry the burden of the city life with me, I've come to feed off this energy and accept it more fully into my heart. Living in a tent, the moon has a different energy for me as there is nothing blocking my perception of it. I am certainly more aware of it, with no other light pollution. I rarely use a headlamp on the short trek up to my tent and I feel grateful for the energy of it's light a few nights before the full moon as much as I feel gratitude when it is only a sliver and my senses are more aware as I feel my way over the rocks and through the trees.

On the most recent new moon, I was in Moab with some new friends, two brothers whom I immediately felt a connection with. I was surprised at how much I opened up to them in a very short amount of time. On the night of the new moon, it was my job to get the fire going as they were preparing dinner. As I was tending the fire, I had the idea to invite the boys to do a new moon ceremony with me. Although they come from a certain religious faith, they were both open to participating in ceremony. I felt so blessed and humbled to conduct the ceremony and it was very moving for each of us.

Now, in this community I am living in, full moon is time for women's council. Last month I sat in circle with some incredibly strong beautiful women and this council feels like the beginning of something powerful, full of love, trust and hope.

I wrote a poem when I was a teenager that I recited by heart at a Kirtan I attended recently. I changed a few of the words to fill the poem with hope and I would like to share it here.

~
The moonlight burns my eyes
As if it were the Sun
Stars wrap me up in arms
As if I'm the only one

I know a secret not spoken
The dreamer has begun
Stars wrap me up in arms
I am
The Only One

Shifting

It's interesting, showing up with grief in community. As I've said several times since my arrival to Salt Gulch, my heart just might break open here. It has. This is the space, this is the time. Grief does not come daily but regularly. I have grown to recognize the beauty in it without attaching any other name. Hiking down to a canyon the other day, I wept at it's magnificence. The sandstone walls heard my cry and the creek below received my tears. The land never rejects me. As I waded through the waters I felt alive and strong in my Self.

Last week I found myself longing for companionship. To be held in the arms of an Other, to feel a gentle touch or look that only lovers share. It's an interesting time for this to come up as I am living in a small community of eight. The greater community of Boulder town which is about twenty minutes away, doesn't leave a lot of room for romantic interest with it's booming population of two hundred. There is a special someone I share a deep connection with who is thousands of miles away. Since I do not have phone service, my case, for now at least, could easily be seen as hopeless. But hell, you never know. I honor my longing as I honor my grief. In this dry season I am learning new ways to connect with others in love.

For months now, I have had the feeling that I am moving into the next phase of my life. Since coming to the farm, this feeling has increased exponentially. The seeds that I planted (literally and figuratively) in Anza Borrego are coming to life. In order for this to take place, seeds first have to die. I was thinking about my own impending death the other day. Sounds morbid I know but I do not feel that if I were to die tomorrow, there is nothing that is going to keep me from dieing in peace. The next day, death on mind, but birth. The birth of a child, a bird, a plant. I have had a few, incredibly intense experiences in the last month or so with animal processing. Although very intense for me, these close encounters with the cycle of life have been very moving for me and played a large role in my process.  As I move into this next phase of life, I am well aware of a death of sorts taking place. The death of old ways of being and belonging to this world, saying yes and birthing my gifts as they begin to manifest. I know that some of my recent grief is intertwined with this shifting, and through that grief I am honoring the Wanderer inside of me.

Part of me feels a great need for a human mentor right now. Although I have many teachers it occurred I long for the support of someone who I can sit face to face with, who understand. At the same time, I feel I am stepping into an Elder role myself and I need to first look inside for the leader. Just as I was asking for a mentor, I had a beautiful conversation with a friend of mine at the farmers market yesterday about this shift and my gifts and she understood.

For now, the farm is my mentor, and the land my lover. Last night, I gathered around the fire with new friends, good music and food. This morning I milked Dolly the goat, one of my favorite activities. Last week, we built a beautiful cob/stone oven. I loved fitting the stone together and working with my friends. We also prepared the rest of the garden beds for planting this week. As I prepare my inner garden, I'm excited to watched the seeds grow, an apprentice to my soul.

Shedding Skin

There is so much moving through me, and so much to say. Where to begin? This past week has been especially intense and beautiful as well as exhausting. I'm amazed at how life and my inner work manifests itself. Particularly in this raw, powerful place. I spoke the other day of the serpent and shedding of skin or that which no longer serves me. There is a lot I am letting go of here, as I step deeper into my Self. Days later a friend found a dead snake. As I helped remove his skin and gut it, I was in awe of this beautiful creature, and the way it showed itself first in my inner world and then in my physical world.

I came into town tonight on a whim and met some cyclists who are traveling across the country. What an incredible journey they are on and as heard a little about there adventure a little bit of envy came up that made me laugh out loud. Am I kidding? I myself am on a journey just as incredible as theirs, here in this community and the small community of True Nature. Since arriving in town I heard about a group getting together tonight to share their favorite poems and I will hang out with that. I've been excited to feel Boulder out and feel apart of this community for the season and who knows, maybe longer. Then, just a few moments ago I ran into an old high school teacher of mine. Who knew this much could go on in just a few hours in a small town of two hundred.

Tomorrow night, I have the honor of holding council, as on the Vision Quest, but now with my fellow apprentices. We will sit in a circle, and each of us in turn, with deer antlers that serve as a talking staff, will share spontaneously and speak as well as listen from the heart. I've been wanting to hold council since the vision quest and, although I've sat in council since then, having the antlers with me all week, I feel an immense gratitude and humility that comes with such an honor.

This afternoon, after spending the day gathering food for us, I quietly walked back to the garden to spend some time with the animals. Tina Luna, the woman who lives there introduced me to the new baby chicks. I was touched by the way the nestled next to the mother and how one of them reached up to mama's beak. Mama hen seemed tired and I marveled at her commitment to her new babies, some of them not biologically hers, and also her resilience. Love in the name of Love.

Strength in Sustainability

I arrived at True Nature Farm nearly two weeks ago where I am blessed to take up residence for the next six months. My tent sits on the ridge above our small community of eight. It is a sacred spot, only yards from a grave site full of animal bones. there was fresh deer scat at the spot when I arrived. I meditated in the area and asked for permission to say and received a resounding yes. I am humbled each time I return to my new 'home'.

I am surprised by my physical strength as I work in the garden, digging new beds, lifting loaded wheel barrows, or working with the Israeli ho, which have proved to be very therapeutic. I keep expecting to wake up with the familiar ache I have come accustomed to and to my relief, it does not happen. My body, which has had a difficult time keeping up with my ever shifting Self, seems to finally be meeting up with my spirit, although I am still re-membering and learning to trust my physical being again.

In addition to learning about Permaculture and sustainability, I continue to work on personal sustainability. Weekly we have a dream tracking group and sit in council together weekly as well. I am grateful that my longing for council will be met here, in our small community at the farm and the greater community of Boulder, Utah.  This past week I was reminded of how one persons dream can affect someone else (in this case myself) on a deeply profound level.

I attempt to visit my sit spot daily but the last couple of days have been full with the garden, council, a potluck and movie in Boulder Town, a community I can easily see myself falling in love with. Right now I am sitting at the Kiva Koffehouse watching the snow dump on top of the Red Rock, full of gratitude and only slightly concerned about how my tent is holding up in the weather.

The Web of LIfe

I ended my day with my dog Sage greeting me at the door, walking into my nearly empty room that has served as my home for the last several months, with so much in my heart. Not of endings but of new beginnings.

My sixteen year old niece was upset tonight over the consequences of doing what she knew in her heart to be right. As I heard the distress in her tears I felt so proud of her. I'm reminded of the courage it takes to follow one's intuition, even if it means going against the grain, and I feel proud of myself for doing so.

I am constantly in awe of the paths that cross in this lifetime, however brief or long the encounters. I am reminded of how we touch each others souls in ways that help us to re-member, whether or not I myself or the Other realizes the depth of one such encounter. I try to remember this always as I show up in this world, and am so grateful for this web of existence. I think of this not because I am in the space of saying good-bye but because I've said hello to others with an open heart recently, and also because I've gained closure in relationships and accepted that life is full of severance.  I know in that severance we take with us piece of each other, lessons learned and love lived.

Wrapping Up

I've been back in Salt Lake City for nearly five months now. My time in Peru seems far away as I prepare for my next venture, a six month sustainability apprenticeship on an organic farm. I will work through this weekend and take next week off to prepare physically and emotionally and to rest. I'm exhausted! I love Spring but as I become more and more sensitive it's a difficult transition for me as the Earth prepares for new growth.

I speak often in the blog about manifesting, trusting and following my heart. Pattern: Once I commit to a new adventure (i.e., the farm, Peru, any commitment really) I immediately revert to, "How am I going to make this happen?" "What the hell am I thinking?" Or, my favorite, "What will I do next?" Of course, as much as I stress about the how, everything has worked out financially. Even as I've watched my savings account expand, I admit I still worry a little, I won't be bringing in any money for at least seven months. I've realized a lot of my fears around making these things happen are tied to an old belief I've had that I don't deserve the life that I want. Working on that one.

Winter, as in previous years, was a quiet time for me, a time of turning inward. I did not travel, I was not especially social. What touched me were the little nuances. Sitting with a fire under the full moon, reading my stories to a group of strangers, having a place to call home and a friend there to share more stories with. Learning to play the guitar, walking the dogs in the Foothills, playing the stranger in this city even though I've spent the majority of my adult life here. Making new friends and creating relationships with people who have were merely aquantainces before. Screaming at the top of my lungs into the darkness of the night in Big Cottonwood Canyon with a friend who'd had a rough day. Shifting, sharing and loving.

As I begin to wrap up my life here I'm aware of how different it's been than before. How I'm somehow different. I feel closure with certain ideas and beliefs or people that I've clung onto and with that closure a heaviness has lifted to be replaced with muscle and wisdom. And I've only just begun!

A co-worker and friend said to me today, "C'mon Angela, this whole farm thing, it's rehab isn't it?"