In Thanksgiving

Moon112118

She shines her  full round upon us
                                                           in reminder of Light
who glows from within

Even in our darkest days when we forget
                                                                who we are
                                                                               who we are
                                                                                              who are we

Who walk on feet blessing Earth

Who sing with bird in gratitude

Who
                        dance and play
                                                                  in childhood dream

Who wash in ocean’s tide

Who look in each other’s eyes
                                              each other’s eyes
                                                                     each other’s eyes
Then see ourselves,
our Light

Look to her
            her glorious round
                                   and give her thanks
                                                          for her reminder

 

 

Author’s Note:

May this day be a day of gratitude for all good.
And may the pain be healed.

Amen. Aho. Blessed be.

Colorful Scars

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Mother Tree – Colorful Scars by Lexanne Leonard

 

Mother Tree

There is wisdom in her amaranthine years,
Mother Tree with knotted limbs upturned
to warmth of sun and blessed rain,
all that is needed, a reach to stars in grace.
Her first lesson.

She stands her ground atop a hill,
no other place to be, guardian to any, mother to all.
She provides without clause for we are all connected –
animal, tree, and me.
Lesson number two.

She is champion, her arms for climbers who will dare,
even when they crack her and tumble.
Scars of strength and boundless compassion.
A third lesson from Mother Tree.

Oh, she is far from smooth and frail.
Rough with weather, firm in her being.
In wind and snow she never falters. She bends.
Wisdom worn proudly around her belly,
striations of her years built one upon another.
No need to hide this cicatrix,
her detailed tale of wealth.
In gratitude I see.

She has an altar ascribed by me,
a shallow where an arm once connected.
An open wound where water now runs
like tears during summer warmth
and dried by winter’s chill.
Just enough room for spider’s blessed weave
and my oblation stone, my simple gift to palm unknown.
I’ve learned to relinquish in her joy.

Mother Tree’s scars do not defeat,
they color the universe with compassion.
May her wisdom fill my every day.
May her generous spirit walk with me.
May her chivalrous path inspire.
May her tenacity lead me in my time.
And may I stay the course of gratitude
all along my journey.

 

Author’s Note:

In today’s climate, through the pain of telling our stories and being dismissed, my mentor Shiloh Sophia created a workshop called Claiming Our Colorful Scars. As with all the work we do in Intentional Creativity, we become the cause in the matter moving us forward and healing ourselves along the way. We take our stories and re-imagine them into a new way. This is so with this class. There is no charge and you can access at the above link. It is a powerful way to reclaim your voice and move forward.

This piece will eventually become affirmation cards. The back will have the poem handwritten on it, then cut into cards. Then I will write a word that I want to remember as a reframing of my story through this process. I can also use it as a puzzle to piece back together to heal even more scars!

 

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Wheel of Fortune

mrmoon

PicMonkey playing. Original image from the Phantasmagoric Theatre Tarot by Graham Cameron

 

It was the night mr. moon put on his pinstripe suit,
the one with green and magenta lines.
Blue tie
       matching mountains
with three tall trees pointing back to his sky,
                                                                                 mr.moon’s place soon to fly.
Nothing to worry about.

He was ready for this night
                                  even though he was fractionally lit.
His small shot glass held clear libation
                                                                        to assuage the wait.

A bottle was set in front of mr. moon
with H as descriptor
                        scribbled on its side.

She, with her pointed ears and lovely skin, all showing,
                                                                                                      nothing covered,
bestowed a long tall glass in front of mr. moon

and poured

                                                     from bottle H.
Gold elixir shimmered in his waning cresent light.

The all knowing mr. moon was puzzled,
the missing puzzle piece caused his wonder.

What could it be in bottle H poured
by delicate hands of
Faerie Tru? Not to be trusted he knew

and cocktails swirled through his head.
Could it be? A drink he favored?
Jinzu gin,
              aquafaba,
Lemon and ginger…
                                                                                         and she faerie’s favorite
                                                             …coriander shrub.

Yes.
Hanami begins with H.
Coriander gold.

A trickster’s delight.

What more might she append to keep him down,
his feet
          attached
this night to Earth’s rotation.
What should he do?

Exchange the known
                                            for the strange?

The all knowing mr. moon was puzzled,
the missing puzzle piece caused his wonder.

 

Author’s Note:

Tonight at our writer’s group member Lise Nelson, author at Stories From The Hat, brought our prompts. She handed each of us a pile of mis-matched cards from several of her tarot decks. We chose how many ever we wanted and used them however we wanted.

Here are the ones I pulled.

I then wrote down the images that jumped out at me to use in my writing: Wheel of Fortune, New Moon, Half Moon, Full Moon, Soul Mates, Bees, Moon, dice, puzzle piece, butterfly, faeries, snails, snakes.

But it was the moon in the pinstripe jacket that stole my heart.

Two Balloons

2balloons

 

Here come round balloons
Lift away, unsecured,
Tiny hands reach,
not fast enough in rescue

Here come round balloons
Red and yellow hues of summer
Winter skin unaware, flaring
Skyrocketing sunflowers
Petaled fingers sway in hot day breeze

Here come round balloons
Dots of color celebration
Laughter and candles
Presents and cake

Here come round balloons
Gondola swing over cow observers
Silent ascent beond fields of green

Here come round balloons
One for you
One for me
That makes two
String entanglement
Above summer kisses.

Here come round balloons
Losing sight of home,
Sting the average heart
Yearning for travels far away

Here come round balloons
Falling to final sleep
Onto hot tar roads
Tires rolling over and
Over and over again.

 

Author’s Note:

Our writing group met and I brought the prompt. A special thanks to Valerie A. Szarek, poet, energy healer, musician, artist, for the idea. I attended a poetry workshop and revisioned the prompt for my group.

We began with a sentence from a summer poem by Robert Frost, Fireflies In The Garden:

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies…

In a round, we then filled in new words with no connection passing papers on and each person filling in only one blank box with adjectives, nouns, verbs. We ended up with one new sentence, each person’s unique. Mine was:

Here come round balloons to sting the average tires.

We were then to use this sentence as a prompt however it suited us. As always, we could do as we wish. But everyone took the challenge in some way.  What fun! And we laughed heartily, and sighed, and shed a tear. What a wonder and blessing I have in this group.

 

Summer Solstice

SummerSolsticeMe

And there are lights…

That burn from wax of bees
scenting air with honey dreams

Skipping flames flashing summons
calling ancestors to assemblage

Far away glow in dark of night
assuring steps on safety’s rungs

Specks and dots, twinkling winks
unwavering star ones await our restore

But Solstice Light, the most generous
revelers ringed with sainted halos,
delight in dance and loosened laugh,
create and sing in joy inflamed

 

Author’s Note:

Today in PRISM we were given a drawing prompt called Shaping Consciousness. To begin we were to close our eyes and, keeping good humor, draw ourselves and what we feel inside. After several more steps, here I am.

I haven’t stopped smiling since I drew me.

You see, I am not a visual artist in the ways of drawing and painting. But I am required to do so in this course. It employs Intentional Creativity and I am constantly being called out of my comfort zone and in joy.

I couldn’t be in a state of more delight.

 

Alignment

Bee and Ladybug

I am cause in the matter
Not victim, not to be blamed,
not good or bad
No judgement
But to stand within the problem

Make space
Nudge the walls a little wider
Push the ceiling up a little higher
Stomp the floor down a little lower
make room, just a bit more room

To be true cause in the matter
is to transform
No worry of past or future
Just see what is within and
Without, the web,
fold into a way of being
a new way of being

I am cause in the matter
It is easy to find beauty in the soft,
In round shapes, lovely colors,
sweet smells, exciting tastes,
birdsong and soulful beats
It is hard in thorny angled places
places of judgement,
of worry and ugly and unknown and
helplessness and injustice
and hatred and mockery
and in the inability of the hard
to see or show or acknowledge
their own beauty

I am cause in the matter
To make space, even more for the hard
Even more for me when I ignore
my Beauty within
Make a bit more space,
breathe a touch more deeply
Expand, even
if just a teeny more
to be able to look anew

Go ahead
Be the cause in the matter
Turn just a little bit
Know it is there
42 degrees

 

Author’s Note:

42º is where light bends through a prism into a rainbow. Not 41º.  Not 43º. Beauty.

 

Triangulation

Triangulation.jpg

There was a time of triangulation
Master of keeping lines from meeting
no melding of ideas
Just pulling lines into one point
Never through three

What I didn’t know about Prosperity –
once tunnel vision of wealth
money and status –
Now
freedom
eternity expanding and folding
renewing
being

The question of Legacy
Not a concern of an only child
always solitary
quantum-ly unaware
But being
Ripples moving into new creation
every moment
passing through

The Mystery
To sit inside
Be still
Be present
Listen and ask to see
Release outcome
Put away guilt
Be grateful
Simple in dance
Beautiful
Seeing beauty in the hard spaces
Love myself
Folding into all

Triangulation
Prosperity. Legacy, Mystery
Within and without
I move in simplicity,
wonder, and awe

 

Author’s Note:

Today’s lesson in quantum physics and intentional creativity and a little Cosmic Cowgirl thrown in to fold into a triangulation.

Maybe “folding” is getting a bit old, too used. Even this early in time of prismic study. Maybe I don’t understand.

Maybe it doesn’t matter as creation always is and continues as long as I ask to see.

Another triangulation happened yesterday and today. Three separate events and actions. I ask to see where these connect to me. I need that time of silence and stillness, listening and not reacting – being.

Much love and gratitude to this community of the Red Thread who move through Intentional Creativity, PRISM, Red Thread Guide, Cosmic Cowgirls. Here is the community I longed to know – especially in the quantum field.