"You're not from these parts are ya."

Yeah, like all good road trips there come those moments when you have to pull into a gas station.
That's where I have been since the last blog. Got out, stretched my legs,arms and back. I even managed to touch my toes and to the wonderful sound of a pop or two.. satisfyingly adjusted. realigned and a renewed sense of balance.
I like those stops in the heat of a desert. I soak it in and become one with lizards.. feels good.
Of course not every stop is like that. I remember being on the road with one of my bro's. driving from CA to SD. It was the edge of winter so my bro' bundled up in snow pants, big jacket, hat and gloves. I was almost as bundled but this weather wasn't as alien to me. We gassed and coffee'd up then approached the cashier.
" You're not from these parts are ya."
It wasn't a question, it was a statement of obvious truth. it's then that we notice everyone else was in western shirts, Levis and cowboy boots (yes even the toddlers). It was just a mild day to them except the visiting tumble weeds that we were, all wrapped in deep winter protection.
Yeah we looked funny to them but at least we were honest to our needs.
Sometimes we don't have the choice about where we can take a much needed pause. stretch. Gather and refuel but we can choose to be at peace with ourselves regardless.

Toksa ake

Dear Anna B,
I am only one of hundreds who love you. Only one in the world all of which you love.
To hold on to someone when their journey is calling, I have found, is like trying to keep the sun from setting. Why try to keep the night at bay? Isn't it beautiful to lay beneath the Star Quilt Creation sewed?
That first moment I met you. Hair like the rays of Ra. Eyes as blue as Caribbean seas.
Do you remember how those blue eyes affected the children at Little Wound School? Some asked if you saw everything in shades of blue. Others were a little scared.. but not for long.
You were a warrior. Yes a warrior for you were brave and true to yourself. Stepping into the midst of the Lakota, led by visions. A stranger from the Stars some said. A woman of gifts and an easy target for ridicule. Gracefully you walked with a heart that only knew how to give.
You were a healer. Yes a healer with hands that laid upon many.
You were a bridge that bought many back into connection. Who spoke with loved ones and Ancestors for the comfort and guidance of those here living.
You were a daughter, sister, wife, mother and friend...... you still are all of these things.
There are so many stories you shared.Burning Crosses in the front yard.Witch hunts and Government.Show tunes and miracles.. oh yes and the car that only drove in reverse.
Do you remember the drives home to Kyle? Late night adventures through the Badlands. Spirits catching a ride and strange creatures crossing the road. Cigarettes and Sage. Candy for the Spirits before we took the road.
Thank you for introducing Michael and I.."you two need to meet" and then leaving us in the room. That bought me back to the Inipi.
Thank you for that Christmas where we helped bring it to my Aunties home.
Thank you for those tears shared as I finished my first year of Sun Dance and all the years that followed.
Thank you Anna for being you. In all your humanness. In all your love.
When everyone gathers over these next few days I pray they see the richness of life. Every walk of life was welcomed by you. No one was turned away...... Mitakuye O'yasin .
There is so, so much more to say.... Stop by for coffee and a cigarette anytime.
p.s. pet Boris for me.
Toksa ake

Earthly Love

I was told once by my father,
" As two-leggeds grow through the stages from baby to adult their hearts grow further away from their Mother."
He was talking about our Mother the earth.
It is a physical truth, from laying to crawling to walking. For many it's an emotional, mental and spiritual truth too.
I wonder what fills the hole within them that comes from abandoning the Love of our Mother? It is obvious to many that it's a bloodied path that leads to what all life is facing today.

joy

There is nothing noble in remaining a victim to past traumas.... be present and fully in your life today.
Change the story.
I'm putting down this burden and leaving it to rest at the side of the path... it's time to continue the journey in a healthy way.

The Nature of what feeds us

For some reason I awoke to this conversation going on inside me.
I have searched as a child.I have searched as a young man.I searched with a hunger to find what fed my soul.My body,mind and life.What would heal my traumas and celebrate my gifts.
I am grateful for the many experiences along the road I've traveled.I've learned about the shadows as well the light that lives within all life.Including my own.
People can become addicted to that which seems to satisfy.That which soothes the wounds or gives a place that allows them to feel welcome.No longer outsiders.
Wounded people are easy to feed but careful the Nature of what feeds us.There are forces that thrive on wounds because it carries the scent of desperation, separation from everything and everyone.When we are hurt as children we seek help and we are vulnerable through the pain.When someone,even a stranger relieves that pain and dresses the wound we give a part of ourselves over.
I have experience the darker nature of spiritual ways and I have learned that all it needs is the tiniest opening to enter.But it does need.It then speaks to the wounds,traumas.The ego,the anger,the confusion even the desire.
It brings gifts that empower.A face it wears that satisfies.Maybe fierce because we are angry and want to rebel.Maybe taboo because we want to shock and laugh at that in others.Maybe smouldering and mesmerizing so to seduce the world and then spit it back out.Maybe light even though it could blind.
Careful though the Nature of what we allow to feed us because it will ask much.It can leave us more hungry.This can feel noble.It can feel like grace.It devours as it feeds.It isolates.It speaks of sacrifice but 'It' is what takes rather than what 'We' may offer to give.
It seems even in paths that speak of liberation there are conditions.They just don't feel like it or are not noticed by those on it.
Love and Prayers for everyone as we all walk upon our paths.Feed your soul and let it be fed with that which truly nourishes.

Some journeys strip you of everything

I started my way back to England from the beautiful embrace of red earth and Jungle. Misty mornings. Fiery Moons. Mantra air. Enticing hills and whispered breeze.
Soon I was traveling along a now familiar road to Vizag where it turns from country warmth into city melee all in a moment so brief it startles. Like the seam joining two fabrics so different.
A train awaits me and thousands of others. The train stations alone are an experience of the senses. Collage of rituals, emotions, smells, sounds and colors all wrapped around the dark skin and soulful eyes of India.
I was going to spend the next 12 hours or so riding the sleeper train. I find this such an immersion into the lives here and I welcome it. Every uncomfortable moment as well the adventurous spark.
The train ride was smooth except the man trying to cheat me out of a lot of money for a tiny amount of food. I track him down, he smiles and returns my change and I shake hands with him. It was a moment of human connection an apology from us both for the situation life can put us in and the choices we make.
I find a Rikshaw ( 3 wheeler with a motorcycle engine ) and take off for the Chennai Airport at 4 am. My flight is not until 8:45 pm so the day awaits with a long sigh of a hot sun to come. Not a bad thing.
The numerous soldiers guarding the Airport refuse me entry until 6pm.. Thank God for books I think to myself and become engrossed in two and finish them both.
I have some money but a feeling keeps prompting me to hang onto it... so I do.
A protest of some sort erupts and lots of chanting slogans, suddenly animated soldiers and a separation of two large groups ensues.. I just watch from my chosen spot and then return to the pages of print. I feel to doze off and maybe for a moment or two I do but hunger grabs at me and the strong taste of tobacco in my mouth.
6pm comes around and I am allowed inside... now the fun starts. I approach the check-in desks and inquire about my ticket, it has been changed due to me leaving earlier than planned. No charges we were told when the change was made.
At this point I should mention that the journey to England had been booked, the flight change and then my ticket from London Gatwick to Sheffield where my brother Dimitri was going to be waiting. I had just enough money for something to eat, Rikshaw rides to the Train Station and then the Airport. Also $20 to change into English pounds at London so I could get some Breakfast.
Ok, back to the Airport... they insist that I have to pay money for the ticket change. I argue with all the pent up weariness from book reading under the sun and with the dust. They refuse to listen and just continue to stare at me. I don't have enough Rupees to pay. I remember the $20 and go change it.. I have just enough with a little change left over.. at least I have my train ticket waiting for me in London I think to myself... phew.
Then I begin to feel the sensation of being stripped ( no, my clothes were not being removed ).
Hang on.. I see that I am landing at Heathrow airport and not Gatwick.. Shit! It's too late to do anything about it and now I just want to get on the plane and take it from there. I never felt panic, just a surrender to everything.
So the flights go very smooth and now I am touching down in Heathrow.
I find myself staring at a continuous stream of baggage and still mine does not appear.. minutes go by.. 30.. 40 an hour passes and then it appears. All the thoughts melt away about it being lost or taken by mistake.. I had surrendered again but all was well. The stripping sensation continues.
I find a money exchange and hand over my few rupees. The man laughs and tells me it's not worth it. I would be left with 2 pounds English. I ask him to please change it.. that 2 pounds would be all my money and I needed to call Dimitri and tell him I'm stranded at Heathrow.
I call, his number is in the back of my passport which I rest on top of the phone as I dial. I get through and tell him. It will take him about 4 hours to get to me.. damn I wish I had another book to read.
I set off, hungry and tired heading for customs. I feel it immediately. The man's energy rises as I walk by, he clocks me, zeros in and follows.
" Excuse me sir. Where have you come from? Do you live in India?"
The questions continue and I just reply, no nerves, I'm so tired. He lets me go, his energy subsides and feels satisfied that I am not worth hunting anymore.. a prey that could not feed his first instinct, the hunger for an arrest.
As I enter the main terminal I then make the terrible discovery... where the f@*k is my passport?
It is gone.. I get played about by the people working there but finally I get to go back and check the only place I could think of, the phone booth. It's nowhere to be found.
I report it. I go outside. Roll a cigarette, offer some tobacco to the spirits. Then the sensation of being stripped is complete. I am naked. Everything has been taken from me in that final moment and I ask "why?"
When we find ourselves stripped naked, the world seeming to be becoming faint. When everything falls away as we try and reach for it, like crumbling banks to a river we are in the current of.
The presence of that heart enters and they anchor us once more.I pray my heart is such a gift for all who know me. That when enveloped and dragged under or into a drowning spiral, people will know inside that I will give everything to reach in and hold them.
Dimitri walked up to me, looked at his brother and we embraced... such is the gift of someone's love.