connection dream

first, I am realizing how connected I am with everything in existence, how connected everyone and every(thing) is... all alive with molecules and atoms and cells of different sorts, spirit cells, everything is woven and needful of everything else. a fly is crucial to the existence of the life cycle- I can't believe in hierarchy because we are all dependant equally.

dream last night- another ancestral one, maybe, but then ancestry is what? everything is related, maybe, somehow. in breath, ether, strange physicality...

last night, elation/disturbedness interlocking. in Norway, or Astoria, Oregon- anyway, a place where there was a Norwegian camp, a building with rooms, hotellish, with Norsk flags on the doors. I saw old relatives of mine meandering in and out, people I hadn't met in the flesh, people from a long time ago, many generations leading unto now, and I felt so happy to be among them, to learn from them, to hear stories.

Then this Inuit man, like really old and weathered, wearing furs, was standing on the road in the sunny snowy way, and I was passing him on my way up to the camp. I looked him in the eye, thinking, he's beautiful, so many wrinkles, his face is like leather, he's so old, so close to elements, but he wasn't content. His mouth was black. Like dead black and I was scared. Frostbitten black. I felt I should look him in the face but I was too scared and kept walking toward my "imagined" ideal-

Disturbed now along my path.

I guess I am going through a phase again. This obsession with unpeeling myself and becoming what I feel is under my skin, not letting my skin and superficial habits get in the way of my growing. I do not call trying to understand my roots regressing, but perhaps the way I am doing it is a but imaginary... what do I not want to admit to myself? what am I afraid of?

I think I am being overly idealistic.

I don't know what I think of humanity anymore. I vacillate so much between the beauty of human capabilities and the devastation humans are capable of, and how much of it has happened with our so-called spiritual evolvution. I can't help but think that animals and plants have caused a lot less death and destruction to the beauty and naturalness of nature. Then there's that argument- "well, it's all natural, we are humans and part of everthing, so smoke stacks and world wars are a part of the bigger picture." But... I can't help but think it's Stupid anyway.

Everyone seems to think we are progressing, just because we have brains and intellect and the capability to grow beyond what we have ever known on earth- beyond animals, beyond tribal peoples... but so far, on this road to progression, we are disconnecting ourselves more and more from reality.

I think Spiritual growth is different, listening intuitively to the self beyond self, paying attention to dreams, becoming as lightened and peaceful a human as possible, but I wish people would quit thinking we are on the way to this marvelous reality just because miracles like computers have been invented to communicate globally, etc. I think it's neat and uselful, but I don't think ... never mind.

happy though, just disturbed by walking dead intuit.

hollydays

really, you choose what you want to celebrate.

some people think that since modern day Christmas is Christian oriented and commericalist, that is all there is to it.

It might now be named after Christ, but it wasn't always, especially before Christianity came to be.

Greenery, the evergreens symbolized new life, life that could last through the coldest winters up north... the Jul log, and many other traditions came from a need to have hope for the new year. This time of year used to be a bit scary because everything alive falls silent, and there was no guarantee for the new year to bring food, life, etc. Things weren't taken for granted. There was an urge for people to be together and have fun because they could, to generate warmth and light and life. To celebrate life, really. Fire was to represent the sun, and not only that, but to literally Be part of the sun... there are fires that never go out, and are constantly maintained and nourished, showing thanks. There was also thought to be actual sun in the evergreen needles and holly... the sun was/is life.

This among a billion other origins from around the world which happen around the sae time, because of the Solstice.

You can celebrate something and feel that beautiful feeling without going to Walmart and buying plastic toys for each other. And you can sing without Going To Church. You can see it as an excuse to be together.

I just get annoyed when people think Christmas is Bad because of a few overemphasized qualities.

I love it.

2003- still

so death of someone you love...

when I can clear my mind enough, 6 years later, I feel slightly sick with missing her and am scared to think about her. even through those years of crying and trying to accept. funny.

I think it's nice though, it's love.

I don't think you ever "get over it". but it transforms, all the energy, as energy does... thought and soul energy too. becomes you in different ways.

the love is so strong in there, in my invisibility.

silent and vibrant at once.

---

ancestry- this sudden recurrence of need to find out ancestry, landscapes of past lives, figure out why I feel so strongly about certain things. and then finding patterns. interesting.

---

home inside one's body and spirit.

contentment despite what others tell you is spiritual... maybe there are some constants and some changeabilities, some collective onenesses, of course, and then the individual motives towards other parts of the spirit, or other spirits within...? what is a spirit?

because yoga, ki gong, taoist mindset and exercise all work for me... I have felt exaltation, light, essence, ether, love, connectedness, flows, blockages bursting or slowly eroding... physically and mentally and spiritually... maybe all one

there is also something on top of that... or within it... like Music, like earth, like nature and simplicity/complexity of survival, connections with other people and animals and plants, food, love, making babies... every part of ourselves can be used in this life. it's so great to acknowledge how well-rounded we are, if we choose it.

and sometimes clouds block the sun so you can appreciate it. I am not always afraid of clouds or night time. and whenever I am, maybe that's also good, in moderation...

--

but with ancestry... when I was pregnant, Chris and I were living in the awful part of a crazy city, in an old apartment in an old house, listening to Pink Floyd, and I got all into a daze, thinking about my mama and suddenly I was her, I rose through her, up up up, I felt her, all her mistakes, all the crises which led to new crises within myself. and then afte rI rose through her skull and out, I entered my Oma, and felt her crises, etc... it made me cry a lot, then I began to rise up into my great Oma, and then I stopped, it was too much. but very helpful.

--

i feel with my dad's side now, since 2005, i have been drawn magnetically to the mystery of them, because they were silent people, my grandfather and his kin, and you have to guess a lot. but things are makng sense and I feel really, really happy in these discoveries through Norge, Telemark, Vinje, Kragerø, Skafså, Denmark, Germany, Wisconsin... Stoughton, especially. I understand needs for pilgrimages.

ps the picture is Louis Moe Tusch/Indian Ink - from Carl Ewald-1906

"The girl who could keep quiet"

north

there was this one time, after Mama died, where I felt I flew off orbit and, after having tried and tried looking within, I finally looked for "guidance" externally, in various places and books and people.

one of these was a Jungian dream psychoanalyst. there are at least 3 kinds of jungian psychoanalysts. 30000? archetypal intuitives with a sense beyond humanity yet obviously including it, Human ones who believe western society is perfect, and so-so ones. plus a billion others.

my lady was very much a product of something very modernly human, understandably, I guess, but irritatingly too.

here's the thing: once I told her I had this Feeling, a strong urge, to go Really North, and lie beside a river covered in broken ice, just looking at a white sky, lying in the white snow.

I hadn't yet thought about meaning, but felt it very peacefully.

She told me it meant Death. In a bad way.

Like some dead Shakespearean maiden image, a girl who's given up. Ophelia, she said. (Who said I was giving up? ?? giving up What??)

But No.

On 10th thought, it occurs to me now, that there is a Purpose for North. (well, it occurred to me before, but this purpose is different).. like the 4 directions, north has a spirit. The spirit of the north is contemplative, doesn't lie, is stark, pure, etc.

just because it's cold doesn't make it dead. things hibernate. life will return, and anyway, it's already present. life is just quieter than usual and hidden. it's beautiful in its minuteness and seeming invisibility. you have to be really really quiet... and are spirits dead? (...no...?)

When a close family member dies at a crucial time in your life, it will change you- I think you have the right to find your own peace and take the time to find it.

Dream lady said basically, "Get on with your life and go get a well-paying job to support yourself. now. join the group."

I even tried. but I would bawl when I saw a person. violin lessons with tons of mamas with their kids. MAYBE I am hypersensitive...

?

No..

and I am glad I took some time to wait.

oh ps I read this beautiful essay called "The spirit of the north" (not the glenn gould one) and it inspired me.
North is beautiful.
I still need it. I love winter.
the rush of the first snow.

Updated 14 hours ago · Comment ·

"understanding the great mystery"

so, this spring, I double dug my first beds and planted seeds that actually sprouted and turned into beautiful plants and edible life. during that time, I developed a silent but colorful, rich, deep, earthy, loving relationship with these beings. this all might sound obvious, but it was beyond thought, it just Was... like the way it should be... that's what my core said, anyway.

I was just reading this essay by a guy named Joseph Bruchac who is Abenaki and of European descent. He just worded it so well, so I felt like sharing:

"Like the animals, the plants have spirits. Throughout North America, whenever plants are harvested, it is done with an awareness of the life and spirit of the plant. To gather medicine plants, for example, one must be in the right frame of mind.... it may be said, quite literally, that there is no difference in Native North America, between planting and prayer."

Prayer! And you kind of become the plants, or see into their spirits, but not in a defined way. Or at least, that's how I felt.

My brother is a gardener/farmer, and at one point he picked the remaining lettuce of mine saying it would be bitter at this time... but I hadn't had time to understand that its end was nigh and I got really upset, seeing it uprooted so quickly. I thought I might have been hormonal or something, but I slammed the door and stuff. I guess, since he's around plants all the time, and was in the mode of uprooting, and was in that mindset himself, it was just part of the way it was done, but for me, my heart was uprooted.

He understands this now, we talked about it not long ago. that feeling rested with me for these past months.

Oh but ONE more, the best one:

"The stewardship of human beings is not as owners but as partners with many other beings, such as the animals. The animals are recognized not only as spiritual beings, but in some ways, as being wiser than humans. Unlike humans, they do not forget the right way to behave. A bear never forgets that it is a bear, yet human beings often forget what a human must do. Humans forget to take care of their families and forget to show respect to other things. They become confused because of material possessions and power."

yay.

ties

Blood and its potency throughout generations. Often invisible to those not looking for connections.

Cycles and Seasons. Babies, remembering the smell of leaves on the ground from child's perspective. Crazy the memories that come back to you when you have a babe.

That's where a lot of tears come from- the sap that is in you and your ancestors.

I am not against the Virgin Mary's sacred heart, even though I myself am not a Christian, nor a Catholic. But I dig her sacred coeur.

the leaves are almost completely fallen now. My thought are almost completely clear. The words my heart is always spewing at me are being realized as more than overemotive woman-ness. I think i can do this. The days of protecting myself from family hurt are over, the days of cutting ties unnecessarily are over too. I realize a new bottom line. ...love...

The only thing I need now is space and a place to think without eyes everywhere, without motors and engines and frequencies invisible but to the smallest of our nerves. somewhere the tiniest birds are the biggest noise.

...love...

Samhain

Now I am not strictly a Pagan or anything, for that matter.

But I gotta say that at this time of year, it really feels as if we should recognize the dead, our ancestry, and also to prepare for the coming winter... just feels right. thoughts come up about mama, grandpa, opa, s, k, J, J-L, e, etc and all the other dead who have touched my life deeply. I don't need remembrance day to tell me to remember those who went to war for their country. but I will remember those who died who went to war against their will... and those who got killed by others defending their country.

but there is a personal dead which does not get such grandeur of recognition, who may have been just as noble, if not nobler, if noble is the question at hand.

tonight my son and I did a lot of dancing, tambourining, laughing, playing, watching of candles illuminating our personal dead, singing, being together. watching leaves fall in black winds. thanking the food we ate. being aware of the moment in its reality.

it seems important and forgotten. everyone we know is having a different sort of fun- candy, makeup, costumes, parties, alcohol, thrills, horror movies, trick or treating, which is good and releasing in its own way... but I can't help but long for someone who wants to get down to earth with me, to the spirit worlds, to the animal worlds, to nature, to the essence of the scorpion shadow that hovers. there is a reason these celebrations were invented, and it isn't just that...

which brings me back to Home- my cousins and aunt back home. they would listen to crazy finnish, norwegian, swedish folk music with me, go crazy dancing to bjork, sing old beautiful songs in harmonies, fling our hair around, make up "random music" on the spot (not Jamming- really creating intricate melodies ina non-rock-ish way) with violins, Irish drum thing, harps, flutes, tambourines, and of course angelic voices. and it used to move! like really move. poetry would be recited, dark and ironic. total laughter everywhere. shrieking, but in a good way. the intellect and soul and heart would combine through our family blood and bring us together, rosy cheeked, warmly by fireplaces and woodstoves. food would be made. just Pure awesomeness. I am not sure I will find that again. I must.

I am thankful I have such an amazing family, even if they ar many thousands of miles away.

basic

yeah, I am trying to reconnect my head with the rest of my body. that's why the writing is being more basic. I am (perhaps temporarily) letting go of overintellectualization too.

it's true, like Marion Woodman said, that when you live above your body, you can get a rush when you realize new things, ideas, even recognizing new spirits around you, new elements of life. but until it's you in your body recognizing it, it's just a temporary rush. Chris has told me over and over... "you don't NEED to think of that stuff s much". And it's true. I am not a better person for using my brain so much. why must I constantly try and surpass myself, whether spiritually, intellectually, or otherwise? can't I just grow truly and love freely with my whole self?

there is nothing to prov. in my soul, I am quiet. I am a quiet person. I do things quietly and diligently in my ideal life. twilight, pre-dawn... that is my spirit.

I think we are ocnditioned to be right at noon constantly. unchanging, unmoody.

the medicine wheel has a bunch to offer us all, methinks. change, wheeling around the center of nonchange. nature is change and nonchange at the same time.

I think it's raining, but not outside.

mother who is still here somehow

afterlife

not sure what is the afterlife, but I sure feel I communicate with the dead a lot. well, the dead I know, some of my best friends. not only authors and artists and others who have made themselves available to people like me... but family members whom I think of regularly, still trying to figure them out. of course things get distorted slightly, perhaps idealized, but the essence is here. my mother, for instance. an enigma and too easily judged by peopl, too easily fathomed by those who didn't spend much time with her. she deserved a lot more love.

my other friend, her best friend, who died recently. again, deserved love more than I can express. she was/is loved, but I think she is one of the most amazing women. I really wanted to talk to her, and sent her a letter that she would have received a few days after she left.

I've been clinging to the present of late, trying to make this town my home, trying trying trying. it's not, not yet. I feel a bit sad when I think of my mother's garden way thousands of miles... now not there... I think of a whole 28 years in Ontario, knowing the rhythms like the back of my hand, the seasons,the waves, the temperature. I think it is silly to judge a place based on people alone. but people have power...

connections there are deep, my roots had a long time to grow.. they were growing under the lake. under the graves in my backyard. twining with old old big trees. I bet the roots are still there,even though some of them were cut down for mansions to rise.

I am not idealistic, at least, not unreasonably so. I don't lay hope in the hands of people who "get it". we don't know anything really.

all I know is I love my family, Chris and my little son. I know I don't need others to tell me who I am or what I should be grateful for.

belive me I am grateful.

I am letting go of something... but it is something I didn't realize. I don't need to let go of my past hom, my love of place, my ancestry, no matter how imperfect.

I need to seriously let go of my ego, my need for perfection. my need to charm. my need to be beautiful. it is very very thin and superficial. it is ruining my life and affecting others.

so relieved.

I seem to be stuck in a forest of sorts...

Why hello. September 26th. Venus is present, I feel her. She's helping me alng while I do my morning recording. It's sunny and the sky's a cornflower blue, or should I call it chicory blue? My brother insists chicory and cornflower are different and in my ignorance I can't say for sure. I guess I will believe him. I just think cornflower has a nicer ring to it.

But the sun is a glorious complimentary orange, and apart from the racing megalithic trucks, it's glorious living here. Our yard is filled with indigo grapes, hanging, pouring from the trellis, the crabapple tree is weighted down, waiting to be made jelly from. No plums, but oh well. Brother has his cider press working and has made pear juice, gallons and gallons of it, apple cider, and plum juice, in the hopes of making wine and hard cider. To last through the winter. I dig.

For the last two mornings, I have recorded new songs. I will hopefully continue this ritual until I run out of words and music, which is hopefully Never.

Trying to openup ribcage to accept this new town Nelson as home. In my mind I call Nelson "Salisbury", its past name. But in my hear I think the name is different again. Probably the original Sinixt name, but I can't seem to find it out. I think the name Nelson undermines the beauty of the place. I am constantly reminded of the character from the Simpsons, the big oaf child Nelson. but This here Salisbury is too beautiful. Mountains surrounded it, cougars inhabit it, chickadees sing in it, or try to be heard, bears watch over it... I guess I miss foxes and crickets and sparrows and grass animals... but I am trying to get over my last home, which I sent 28 years in. Hard to shake overnight. The idea of going back to live there does little for me, but my missing is overwhelming anyway. Gotta figure it out, live it out.

Working on 3 projects. 1) Saturn and the Ladybugs, 2) Corvus Mae, 3) unnamed jazzish thing. A la Peggy Lee/ Marilyn. La!

Apart from being a full time Mama, that is. So in love with my son.

harvest season/ ducks fly moon

morning silent but actually crows. if you ignore the traffic.

a birthday today, Kris'. He's sleeping with a sweet baby. the baby has tantrums a lot these days. he throws himself around and claws with his nails. half-proud I am, and half-worried. he's really a sweet one, though.

laurence, atwood, munro, plath, maracle, erdrich, gunn, lightning woman. reading the women who have ties with womanhood. self-aware, aware of life. inspires a girl see through better and less-habitual eyes. adds shades and spirit fabric to everything surrounding and inner. behind, beyond, meta-, within, super, and perhaps. I love the women, the musicians, poets, composers, knitters-of-webs, the long line of us, actually, the great lovely circle of us, or spiral. we have the blink, the understanding, the almost-smile, the totally Mona-Lisa thing, the blood, like a female coyote, but with essence of brown mama bear, hummingbird, and others.

recording music soon. can't wait. so many ideas, so many projects. technological Kris is preparing the earth to sing on, to drum on, to play on. I have no idea about Scope, wires, connections, mechanics, that stuff. admiration.

Corvus Mae is keeping herself warm under folded wings, aching to caw. waiting. change of season now to ducks fly moon from the brown bear time. Dreamt of bear two nights ago, crow more nights ago. Bear was beautiful, slow, grace incarnate. something to be revered. glossy and dark. the western spirit. I felt her and watched her in her silence and became silent too. the one time I was close to Bear, Kris and I were in our '71 VW van, somewhere in the mountains, camping across Canada. 2006. night time. bear slowly ambles looking for food. beauty, amazement, reverence. came toward us so we started up the van and eventually drove off, feeling that we saw the most beautiful creature. we ate rice cakes and dodged mosquitos in the black. headlights illuminating specks of winged things, we silent with bear songs.

cougar sighting at the park in town. cool.

love,

me

New Moon

No crickets here, but still, there is other music. It's kind of quiet because it's under the skin, and also the roaring 4 X 4s and pickups and SUVs and jeeps rush up the mountain so quickly you can barely hear your thoughts, let alone the soft rushing blood-music, but still, it's there.

Cutting cords to places, for me, can only be partially done. Home, or that place I spent most of my past in, the intimate place that knows parts of me that other places couldn't know, this place I spent time sitting under trees which would be sawed away, telling my secrets, crying, singing, talking to crows, this Home has changed its skins many times, and so have I... the ghost is still there, the events clasped in the cells of always-ness, the voices and blood-rushings still hide in there, so that cord can't be cut anyway. But the land, the great willows, oaks, the great Lake, that sand, the thunder storm waves, crickets, grasses, familiar human voices, and of course, my good friend the foghorn are distant relatives now.

Now I am here in the mountains, and the music has changed and is me, but new, like a new moon shifting waxing waning... new music.