The Solstice is a heart-tugging time of year for me.
There is a rising of energy that I feel inside, so acutely,
as the Earth adorns her abundance in the spotlight.
My creative fires are a-blazing… and this is glorious and uncomfortable at times –
requiring lots of checking in with breath, walking, dirt, water, stretching.
I also get misty-eyed and reminiscent this time of year for several reasons.
It is my love’s birthday, on the longest day of the year (today!).
Twelve years ago I had to send another fella packing
because I couldn’t hush the curiosity I had for this mysterious music-making soul.
He’s a magic man – in the quietest of ways – just living.
I’m still curious about this.
He is who he is and those who stick around to witness it, see & hear the undeniable magic abound – even when he doesn’t.
For those who take the time, they find his wisdom seeps in
with humor and thoughtfulness and unexpected passion.
I also find myself longing to crawl into the musty-dark, wet womb of a sweat lodge.
I thirst for the wisdom of elders and rattles,
and the comfort of quiet listening & diverse heart-sharing,
as my soul and body release hot residue into the cold mother beneath.
There were whispers of building a lodge here, between my sister and I.
Sometimes our whispers, like seeds, take a cycle of seasons to sprout, or so.
I hear the ceremony drum and songs of Great Spirit like a soundtrack beneath the noise of my day,
a lullaby before sleep and waking,
beating with my heart… remember, remember, remember.
And I think of how it feels to dance to the Sun, from rising to setting,
learning, falling, getting back up.
I wonder how life will help me fulfill the remaining two years I committed to dance…
and know that this is a great test of Trust and Listening on my path.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been in community ritual quite like those days,
and I miss it ~ the amplification of tending spirit as The Way.
So in response, it seems, in this time of honoring the great life-giving star of our home,
my hands reach for my eagle whistle, the tobacco and sage, my drum…
and my eyes linger elsewhere, in another world that cracked me open to myself –
through colorful tree-tied prayers, humble offerings
and eagles that never failed to bless the sky above us –
The time when I first remembered, in my being, the prayer I was born to pray.
As I remember back then, I remember to live it today.
And I am so humbled and blessed.
21 june 2013
Just This Life is a series of frequent, spontaneous musings & prayers about my daily presence practice as an art in this one blessed life experience