Category Archives: Thoughts About This and That

Spirit Light

Zara came running up to the display table I’d set up at the Sundust Oracle Institute’s Artist’s Fair last Sunday – vibrant child with dark eyes alight.  A ziplock bag with change drops from her little hand onto the table, she announcing she’s shopping for her sister and brother.  I gathered her into my arms, a ‘glad to see you hug’ and tell her how thoughtful she is.  I pick out feather options for her to choose between.  That one is for brother she points.  Handing it to her to hold while I cut a piece of red fabric to wrap this medicine gift in, we share a lively exchange of words and excitement.  I learn from her how she has been since I saw her last and how her family is and that the big one, pointing at a coin in the bag, came from the Tooth Fairy.  She shows me with a big smile her missing and new tooth.  Her brother’s feather gift is folded into the fabric now and I cut a piece of sinew to tie the end closed.  Each time a knot is made, a prayer is tied into the knot, she already knows this.  I ask her what prayer she has for her brother?  Her words are so sweet, for his “joy and highest good” coming easily, unembarrassed to speak aloud.  She blows the prayer into the sinew as it’s pulled tight.  I notice that I am holding my breath, stunned at her generosity of spirit, the wisdom of her words, prayers that are golden from her wide open heart.  Each end tied, prayers from an exuberant Spirit Light Child.  So engaging she is – we keep talking as she chooses between two feathers for her sisters gift.  She asks my opinion and I defer back to her – what does she think her sister would like best?  She chooses and again I cut a piece of fabric and two pieces of sinew to bind the ends.  All the while we are catching up on life, more hugs and she tells me a secret – I promised not to tell.  She offers fresh prayers for her sister into teach knot.  She is such a Light.  I am thrilled to be with her and share this precious moment.

I offer her feathers to choose from, my gift back to her.  She accepts, choosing the darker feathers with shining hematite that seems so pale compared to her smiling eyes.  This time, I ask her what prayers she’s like to put up for herself in the knotted sinew?  She offers prayers for her parents instead.  And another for all beings on the earth.   Again I am in awe of this child.

Another big hug and off she goes, three red wrapped bundles in her arms.

Some time later, she is in front of me again, this time with a present for me!  At the art table, she created a gift with me – cotton for snow, a feather glued in place with symbols stamped onto a board.  Her name – Zara – written on top.   I find I am choking back tears.  So deeply touched by her Spirit – generous and kind, brilliantly alight.

This particular holiday season, I am feeling the weight of the world on my shoulders.  I’ve returned again and again to the discontent and fractures within the U.S. and around the world.  I have felt unusual and overwhelming despair and uncharacteristic angst.  The idea of Peace of Earth seems impossible at this time, more breaking down is needed before any reparations can occur.

And sweet Zara, unbeknownst to her has been the carrier and keeper of the Light I have needed to carry on – a reminder that it’s not all sound bites and hatred.  She is Love.  She is Light.  She is the hopefulness I can hold onto for the future, for the next Seven Generations.  I am so blessed to know her.  So grateful.

Pilamaya Zara!  Pilamaya to her wonderful nurturing parents!

Aho Mitakuye Oyasin  ~  All My Relations

Days later before this writing, I counted the change in the ziplock bag out of curiosity…. $7.77 ~ how auspicious a number!  Seven by itself a sacred number.  Three 7s = 21, the number of the Universe.  Little angel in skin, Spirit Light.  A gift to us all.

Life Force

“A melody is formed by a relationship between notes.  A single note does not make a melody.”  ~  Ted Andrews

The Evening Grosbeak are numerous at the feeders now.  This is unusual.  Even though they are year round residents to the PNW, springtime and early summer is when I ordinarily see these birds in my own yard.  Autumn is generally a very busy time at Echo Lake though with small, medium and large flocks of songbirds moving through, some staying to feed mingling in with the resident species.  Others resting briefly and moving on.  Migrating waterfowl are a constant this time of year.  Most just stopping over for the night, maybe a day or two then on the move again.  The numbers vary daily.  The Common Merganser arrived last week, they’ll stay and over-winter here, along with a few other species.  With the abundance of songbirds, a resident Sharp-shinned Hawk can be seen much more often.  The Sharpie is a hawk who hunts birds as well as rodents for her survival.  When she is in motion, I’ve seen songbirds scatter in all directions in their frenzied haste to protect themselves.  I was awakened yesterday by a female Evening Grosbeak crashing into my kitchen window.  She hit hard!  Was it the Sharpie?

In the semi-light of a frozen morning I found her face down and breathing hard.  I scooped her up, folding her wings into place and cradled her to keep her warm.  She was bleeding from the mouth.  Beyond this, not a feather was out of place.  She was gorgeous.  Each bird’s marking are unique.  Hers were nearly symmetrical – the palest yellow feathers highlighting bold white patches on her black wings and tail.  Heather gray and pale yellow body and head.  A patch of white at her throat bordered by black.  And as the name suggests, a large yellow beak.  The bright red blood startling against the yellow bill and where it dripped into the snow.  Her right foot grasped a finger, the left lay limp.

Keeping her covered in my cupped hands and holding her close to my heart, I stepped under the eves of the house onto the bare boards of the deck, out of the snow, my own feet bare.  Still bleeding but with clear eyes she slowly looked all around and up into the Big Leaf Maple where the majority of her flock was at the time, their contact calls could be easily heard.  And she was looking at me.  I began to sing the Heart Song to comfort her.  Maybe it is just to comfort myself that I sing to injured birds.   I like to think it was succor to her.  Her breathing slowed.  Is this a good sign or a bad sign?

Élan vital – the vital force of life.  Our breathing is an involuntary action in the body and a vital one.  As a yoga student I was taught the importance of the breath.  As a yoga teacher I emphasize the breath with each movement of the body.  Take your breath to any stuck places, visualize the release.  Use your breath to heal yourself.  As humans we can think this through, create a practice, take our awareness where it is needed.  What is the bird thinking?  She continues to look around, taking in her surroundings, nestled in my embrace.  She knows she is safe, that is obvious to me.  We stay this way for many minutes.  I’m cold yet continue to hold her and sing.

The Evening Grosbeak has been a bird whose medicine I have worked with for many years.  Family of origin work.  What are the patterns needing to be broken?  What needs the healing salve of love?  How am I tied to my family beyond blood?  How do I maintain the ties?  What must I do to nurture them?  I continue with this personal work as it is paramount in my life.  At this time though, I feel the Evening Grosbeak are here to bring my attention to the larger family – the Global Family.  I live safely in a circle of trees on a beautiful little lake in a ramshackle little house.  I am not wealthy monetarily and still my life is rich and abundant.  So many go without.  So many are at risk.  The Grosbeak medicine is about healing the family heart.  Their melodious voices are significant.  Am I using my voice in a way that serves?  Do my earnest intentions heal anyone?  Certainly I am healing.  As within so without.  There is little I can do personally to heal the numerous and monumental crises in the world today – yet I cannot do nothing.

So I hold the little bird in the freezing morning.  Her bleeding stops.  Both feet holding onto fingers now, still her soft belly resting warm against my palm.  My song is a prayer for her healing, for the life force to return to her so she will fly from my hands and live.  Which she eventually does.  In the Aspen tree of my neighbor’s yard she rests a while longer before moving along to join her flock.  I thank her for the life force within her that was able to survive, hoping the best for her and others of her flock.

At its origins, élan vital is the creative force within an organism that is responsible for growth, change, and necessary or desirable adaptations. My prayer today is that this be within the human family – that desirable adaptation and change occur for the greater good of mankind, All Nations and Ina Maka, our Mother Earth.  My prayer is for each note of the melody to be heard.

All My Relations  ~  Mitakuye Oyasin

Let’s Talk Turkey

“Most people don’t realize turkeys are friendly, they’re social, they’re loyal and they have emotions.”  ~  Shannon Elizabeth

The idiom “talk turkey” means to speak frankly and seriously, especially about things of importance.

Some friends of mine raise turkeys.  Each time I go to their property I pass by the hen-house and the run where these girls and their Tom live.  “Hello girls…..!”   All heads raise up to see who’s calling right away.  Many start a slow walk over to the fence when I call again. Low vocalizations, talking among themselves before answering me.  “Hello girls….!”  They’re curious about me and now talking to me.  Have I come to offer them a bit of scratch?  Cracked corn perhaps?  They turn their heads this way and that – eyeing me – I wonder what they are thinking. “Oh girls….”!

Intelligent birds, Wild Turkey are indigenous to the North American continent.  Fossilized remains dating back some 5 million years have been found in southern North America and Mexico.  In the early 1500s, European explorers brought home Wild Turkeys from Mexico, as Aztecs and Mayans had domesticated the birds centuries earlier. Later, when English colonists settled on the Atlantic Coast, they brought domesticated turkeys with them.

Like many species, the Wild Turkey populations was nearly decimated to extinction in the US due to over-hunting and habitat loss.  The efforts to save the wild bird and reintroduce them into their historic ranges has been wildly successful – this gives me such hope for other species as we put our attention onto salvaging populations of winged creatures, four-legged ones, the creepy crawlies and others.

To find Wild Turkeys it helps to get up early in the morning, when flocks of these large birds are often out foraging in clearings, field edges, and roadsides.  Turkey live and travel in large flocks.  Their communal living can teach us much about sharing the blessings of life.  They are unique in that their young stay with the many moms in the flock for up to two years.  Each sex has an independent pecking order, with a stable female hierarchy and a constantly changing male hierarchy. You’ll usually find turkeys on the ground, but don’t be surprised if you run across a group of turkeys flying high into their treetop roosts at the end of the day.  This earth and air connection speaks of higher realms of intuition and knowing.

As we gather tomorrow with our families and friends, let us remember that giving thanks is a practice best offered every day.  There is so much to be thankful for and practicing gratitude multiplies the many gifts in our lives.  Gratitude for our Mother, for the bounty of gifts is best practiced daily too.  It is this time of year when many people remember to open their hearts and serve.  There is a constant need for service, a constant need for sharing the wealth of abundance Mother Earth has to offer.   My gratitude for those of us who are willing to share, willing to serve, willing to give thanks.

It’s estimated some 46 million turkeys will be eaten tomorrow.  It is a sad statement of fact that the majority of those consumed have been raised on factory farms.  The practice of factory farming is devastating to both the birds and animals raised in this way and human community who live nearby these inhumane operations.  This farming practice is extremely harmful to the environment as well.   Organic farming is on the rise, thankfully, raising both domesticated turkey and what are known a heritage birds.  It is still a very small percentage of what is being raised and consumed at this time however.  Birds and animals grown without antibiotics and growth hormones, fed a proper diet, allowed to grow in a natural life span with access to normalcy, then harvested with care and intention, with gratitude, are far less stressed.  The consumption of food grown and raised sustainably and humanly is far superior for our own overall health – we have enough stress in our lives without eating it.  “The hurt of one is the hurt of all.  The honor of one is the honor of all.”  ~ Chief Phil Lane, Jr.  as retold from his Grandfather.  Eat with intention.  Eat with prayer.  Eat with gratitude.  Honor the Turkey.

Nourish yourself in a good way.

wingmedicine1

The medicine or power of the Wild Turkey is generous and multifaceted.  Turkey is symbolic of all the blessings the Earth contains and the ability to use them to the greatest advantage of all.  Adaptability, intelligence, spiritual nourishment and growth, as well as wisdom are among the lessons of the Turkey.  Higher vision and feminine energies can be tapped for greater good of the whole – family, community and the world.  Turkey is the medicine of the give-away.  What is done to and for another is done also to and for oneself.  Share the abundance as there is truly enough for us all.  Quick and alert, Turkey teaches us that we have the capability to act in a worthwhile way.  Virtuous, Turkey medicine is about transcendence, acting and reacting for the benefit of others.  Help and sustenance are given by Turkey out of the realization that all life is sacred, it is the knowing that the Great Spirit resides in us all.  With an open heart and higher vision  all can be fed and made whole.

I would like to express my thanksgiving to the First Nations who welcomed the “boat people” as I’ve heard it call, to North America.  I would like to offer a prayer of apology for the disrespect they received subsequent to their openness.  A prayer for the healing after the many long years of darkness, a prophecy that accompanied their arrival.  A prayer too for the light that is coming to illuminated the shadow aspects of humanity, as I turn inward to reflect upon my own shadow side.  May these darker days of the mid-autumn season hold us all, the Global Family, in a good way.  May we be held in the Light.

It is my practice to count my gratitude at the end of each day.  This acknowledgment is my nightly prayer.  I am deeply grateful for my own health and well-being, that I was given the day to be alive by the Creator – for all my sense perception to fully experience the world around me.  I am grateful for my son and family of origin, for my extended family – blood and marriages, for community and friends.  For my Ancestors.  My Allies.  For the abundance of a warm bed and a home, a full belly and an open heart.  For all the joys that filled the day when I stopped to notice them.  For my work.  For any lessons – those take came with ease as well as the painful one – as Jung said, “there is no birth of consciousness without pain”.  And I am grateful to be a being with a conscious.   Grateful for the birds.  Grateful for Grandmother Buffalo.  Grateful for self-love.  And anything else my mind overlooks, let my heart speak of thanksgiving.  Aho.

Mitakuye Oyasin  ~  All My Relations

Phil Lane, Jr. is the founder of The Four Worlds International Institute.  I listened to him speak last week on the Indigenous Wisdom Summit on The Shift Network and again last night.   Beginning December 10th a Live Circle will begin, indigenous teachings and wisdom for today.  Join in the Circle.

Seasonal Bounty

The temperature has been in the teens and low twenties at night for nearly a week.  Towhee is a typically secretive bird, keeping to the undergrowth – literally scratching out a living.  With the ground being frozen, they too are coming to the seed feeders surprising me with their numbers.  Let go of attachments they tell me.  The Varied Thrush have come down to the lowlands, they’re persistently scratching, keeping close to the margins or completely hidden.  The rare occasion when I see them is brief.  Usually I only know they are here in the yard by their haunting trill.  Make my presence known.  Use my voice.  The Winter Wren pops in and out of view, asking if I am confidently using the resources available to me?

To my delight, this time of the year also brings the Fox Sparrow – my favorite in the sparrow family.  I think.  It’s hard to pick a favorite of any species.  I so enjoy them all – each with unique character and color.  The color of the Fox Sparrow is such a rich shade of brown, invoking warmth in me.  They too are secretive, remaining hidden most of the time.  It is the sweetness of their expressions that truly endears them to me.  A small flock of Gold-crowned Sparrows have been here for the better part of the last month.  Conversely, they are bold and bossy having no reservation with taking their place at the feeder.  Song Sparrow lives here year around.  They’re not pushy in the least.  The males throw their heads back and sing with abandon.  In the springtime a veritable chorus all around me.  White-crowned Sparrow are sure to come too, although so far I have not spied them in the mix.  Sparrow medicine speaks of personal power and not being under anyone’s thumb.  Am I standing up for myself in a good way?  Do I know where my own powers lie?  Am I using them well?

Both Chestnut-sided and Black-capped Chickadee are regulars.  Purple Finch too.  So is the Oregon Junco.  The Slate-colored Junco has recently arrived.  Theirs is a shade of brown unmatched by anything else I’ve ever seen.  Steller’s Jay are particularly stunning in the bright sunlight of these frozen mornings – their blue seems to have intensified into a shade of dazzling blue radiance.  Crows keep watch from a distance, vying for the peanuts I offer.  Red-breasted Nuthatch dart to and from the suet feeder with regularity.   Even the ordinary, the usual, remind me to find joy in the moment.

A huge flock of Pine Siskin has been in the neighborhood all week.  Yesterday, Freeman, a Douglas fir that lives with me was filled with them.  Little voices that collectively are quite noisy.  What must we do as a human community?  If we care for the Earth and all her children, what are we to do?  Who is the leader for the greater good?

The freezing temperatures are also cause for bringing in the hummingbird feeder at night.  I am generally not an early riser however the hummingbirds give me cause to wake before the sun is up to put the feeder back outside again.  Having been in a state of torpor for probably 14 hours, they’ll be looking for a drink first with the first morning light before the sun has even risen to light the treetops with the golden pink of morning.  Such a holy moment. Within an hour it’s time to change the feeder out again.  It has become a slushy.  Brain freeze!  Act.  Be focused.  Be diligent.  More joy!  What is the source of my sustenance?   What needs my fierce protection?  Last week a female Anna Hummingbird crashed into the Plexiglas on my deck.  I held her and sang to her until she was able to shake off the blow and fly away.  What a magical moment as we looked one another in the eye.  Friends now, she comes come with intention to eye me again, reminding me that my song is a prayer.

Two male Evening Grosbeak came down out of the treetops to feed, leaving their flock to glean up in the top of a Big Leaf maple.  Again the medicine of the Grosbeak call my attention back to my FOO.  What family of origin healing is needed within me today?

On the water, the ever-present Pied-billed Grebe.  Go deep.  And ride the surface.  Many ducks have come, more come each passing day.  Mallard, Hooded Merganser, Bufflehead, Gadwell, and Ring-neck are here this morning.  There may be as many as 200 birds – on occasion they seems to all rise up at once, flying in great loops around the lake only to land again finding their places along the lake edge to feed.  They remind me to find comfort in the truth of my emotions, to be at ease and fly with grace through my day.   To move when needed.  Canada Geese and a few Cackling Geese have been using Echo Lake as a stop over to rest and feed.  Flocks have been numbering in the dozens, coming in waves.  Leaving the same way.  Where have they come from and where are they going?  Is it time for me to have an adventure too?  They remind me to be creative with my life.  I sewed rattles throughout the day yesterday, both the geese and I sitting outside in the sun.  I was able to be present with my thoughts, stitching prayers and bird song.  Trumpeter Swan have flown over going somewhere to the North.  Their strong wings powering them forward – keep calm, know your wisdom, and have faith.  Surrender into Spirit.

Another surprise – Snipe!  Yes, they’re real!

A lone Sharp-shinned Hawk has been traversing the yard on the hunt for small songbirds.  I’ve seen him fly into the bushes a great speed but leaving without success numerous times.  He flew very near to me yesterday, passing me from behind to light in the tree before me.  Persist.  A change is in the air, something new is coming, be watching for the subtle message.  Observe.  Accept things as they are.

The day is warming up, most of the frost has melted now.  The Towhee have made short work of a full feeder, it is nearly empty now.  Of course they haven’t done it alone.  The winged community is at work.    All around the yard the voices of the Winged Ones charm me.  They teach me plenty about myself and who I am in the world, who I can become if I’ll just tap into the wealth of their powers.  There is such abundance in the season’s bounty.

May you find their blessings in your own life.

Mitakuye Oyasin  ~  All My Relations

What’s A White Girl To Do?

“It is true that many of the old ways have been lost.  But just as the rains restore the earth after a drought, so the power of the Great Mystery will restore the way and give it new life.  We ask that this happen not just for the Red People, but for all people, that all might live.  In ignorance and carelessness they have walked on Ina Maka, our Mother.  They did not understand that they are a part of all beings, the Four-legged, the Winged, Grandfather Rock, the Tree People, and our Star Brothers.  Now our Mother and all our Relations are crying out.  They cry for the help of all people.”  ~ Black Elk

Black Elk’s use of the word cry has a connotation unfamiliar in today’s vernacular.   What was meant was to pray.

Recently a friend, whom I love dearly and I know loves me too, called to offer a thought for my consideration.  I had used the Lakota language word inipi, which means sweat lodge, in a prior blog post.  She thought I should know that the use of the word could be considered inappropriate by some.  I had quoted a passage translated from Black Elk, Oglala Sioux Medicine Man, from the book The Sacred Pipe, Joseph Epes Brown.  I’m certain the intention behind the call was an effort to educate and protect me.  On the heels of this, my attention was called to an article  where I read the words, “it’s cultural trespassing”.  The article wasn’t specifically about “the appropriation of culture”, the subject was “Selling the Sacred: Get Your Master’s in Native American Shamanism?”

With a heavy heart I set about ceremony for a buffalo hide I had brought home that morning.  It is always my practice to honor the animal, to call his Ancestors to carry his spirit home, to express my gratitude, to become aware of any reparations needed for the creature, his Nation.  And for the human involved in the taking of the animal’s life – was it done with respect or is healing needed?  My heavy heart spills over in grief – I make apologies, pray for forgiveness for what the European immigrants have done, what white man has done since arriving on the North American continent – the systematic eradication, the genocide.  I pray for forgiveness for what human kind has done to the other species on the planet.  How we’ve disrespected our Mother Earth.  I am crying, both tears and in the way Black Elk was using the word to cry.  If not this way of praying – How?  The Catholicism of my childhood doesn’t fit in my heart this way.  Where do I fit?  What is my way if I shouldn’t use these words and this way of praying?

There is no disrespect intended.  I mean no offense.  No wilful or deliberate appropriation of culture.   Still I felt burdened by what I’ve read and my friends warning.  More so, the weight of my being a white woman seemed to be holding me culpable for the atrocities of the past and the marginalization that continues today to the Native People in this country.

“Why are you responsible?  Why do you feel guilty for what was done?”, prodded my friend Yara.   I was going have to think about that as I didn’t have an answer.   I feel ashamed to be predominately of European decent.  I feel the urge to make it known that my fourth maternal Great Grandmother was called Mahala (which means woman) by the white man who took her as his wife.  Her name was I’a’cene.  I don’t feel any less white.  I feel confused and depressed.

“What do you know?” asked my fern-friend later when I stopped for council on my walk.  I know I am the very same energy that is the earth’s energy.  The same as the buffalo.  The same as all the nations of beings on this planet.  I am not responsible for the past and I am the blood and bones of my ancestors.  I am the wind.  I am the raven.  I am the stones and the soil.  The waters. There is no separation, no difference between myself and another.  I know these ways fill my heart with gladness, and hope – they resonate wholly.  I am crying.

“Survival of the world depends on our sharing what we have, and working together.  If we do not the whole world will die, first the planet, and next the people.”  ~  Frank Fools Crow

The ways of the Lakota People, the way of indigenous cultures, ancient ways of honoring our Mother Earth and all life – again I cry while trying to find words – theirs, mine.  It is the language of the heart.  I speak out of love.  I speak to invoke the light.  I speak and pray for a day when we can all live without fear, without misunderstanding.  I am crying that we remember we are all one.

I forgive myself for being white.  I forgive myself if I have harmed anyone in anyway due to my own confusions.

What else is a white girl to do?

Aho Mitakuye Oyasin  ~  All My Relations

314

“Since its founding in 1905, Audubon has always stood for birds, and science-based bird conservation has been our mission.  Following that tradition, our science team recently completed a seven-year study of the likely effects of climate change on North American birds populations.  The findings are heartbreaking: Nearly half of the bird species of the United States will be seriously threatened by 2080, and any of those could disappear forever.” ~Audubon

314 is the number of bird species at risk from climate change according to The Audubon Report.  As a committed bird nerd I find this heartbreaking indeed.

I’ve been in love with birds my entire life.  It was the little red-breasted nuthatch that piqued my desire to know birds.  Who was that at my feeder?  The ferocious and growly, stripy faced little bird took my love in a new direction, deepening my relationship to birds.  In 1987 I began my quest to identify half of the birds in my field guide in my lifetime.  This has led to many joy-filled days in my own front yard, weekends at the hawk-watch on Cooper Mountain, vacations all across the country, into Canada, Mexico and Europe.  A Big Year of birding is on my bucket list.  I keep notes in the margins of my original bird identification book, a National Geographic Birds of North America, the first of several types of field guides I’ve purchased and my favorite.  It is derelict and tattered as well as outdated – much has changed when it comes to the identification in the ornithological world.   My notes are sweet reminders of those first moments when I made an identification, beginning my relationship with a new bird species, where I was, the date and if anyone else was with me – A chronology of my 25 years of birding. I haven’t actually counted but I’m certain that at best, I am only to the half-way point of identifying the bird species in my favorite guide-book.  Audubon’s study and the constant threat to the Boreal forests of Canada where more than 300 North American species breed and nest leave me somewhat discouraged – will I be able to see half?

Warming of the climate system is unequivocal, and since the 1950s, many of the observed changes are unprecedented over decades to millennia. The atmosphere and ocean have warmed, the amounts of snow and ice have diminished, sea level has risen, and the concentrations of greenhouse gases have increased.  ~Intergovernmental Panel On Climate Change

The wheels of change are in motion.  Little has actually been done to mitigate the current climate conditions that are continuing virtually unchecked.  While there are many climate change activists world-wide (thank you very much!) there are still those who refuse to budge from a stance of denial that is both divisive and dangerous.

The Environmental Performance Index (EPI) (2010) is a leading ranking of the environmental performance of countries around the world based on 10 policy categories and 25 performance indicators grouped under two key objectives: environmental health and ecosystem vitality.  The 25 indicators and 10 policy categories provide measures of agriculture, air pollution, biodiversity and habitat, climate change, the environmental burden of disease, fisheries, and forestry.  ~Global Sherpa

Iceland, Switzerland, Costa Rica, Sweden, and Norway are ranked the top five counties on the EPI.  The United States ranks 61 out of 155 countries.  Not quite the “greatest country in the world” nor leading the way when it comes to this critical concern.  Policy makers acquiesce to special interests leaving the populations of birds and frankly all life forms on earth at risk.  This includes the human species.

Birds are joyful – color and song.  Birds are medicine – each species offering a unique power.  And birds are a vital part of a well-balanced ecosystem.  Education and sharing my passion are two small ways I can be actively engaged with conservation, there is a roadmap to action.  Elders benefit.  Children develop patience as well as many other life skills by learning to bird watch.  Cornell Lab of Ornithology reminds us in their Citizen Science blog of the importance a healthy habitat.  In a time a severe habitat loss, planting native plant species is vital to the overall health and survival of the bird populations, a simple thing that one person can do for the long-term health of their local ecosystem.  Shirley Doolittle of Tadpole Haven offers a bit of advice to those of us in the Pacific Northwest – plant Cascara, Indian Plum, Ocean Spray, Red Elderberry and ALL of our native conifers, the basis for healthy forest habitat she states.  We plant native plants because they are good for the environment. Native plants heal damaged land, provide food and shelter for creatures large and small, filter runoff and cool streams. Indian Plum is a favorite of mine, usually the first to bloom here in the PNW in late winter – I have both a male and female to assure they fruit each year.   I’ve seen the secretive Swainson’s thrush with a dirty elderberry face on more than one occasion – a very funny sight.  Won’t you please find a native species grower in your locale and plant something for the birds in your garden?

There truly is little an individual can in the grand scheme of this scenario.  Coming together as a community of concerned citizens for our own best interest and for all our brethren seems vital.   Putting pressure on elected officials.  Electing officials who will not bow down to the cronyism of our political system, who will take a stand for the people and Mother Earth.  Talk about the realities.  Attend to the depletion and to the dying as though in hospice.  Being midwives to revitalization and sustainability.  Revel in the glory of birds while we can, sharing their beauty and wisdom with others.  I am keeping my binocular handy, getting outside for a look as often as possible.  Offering what I can in action and prayer.  I am grateful for the birds, grateful for the  joy they are in my life and grateful for those bringing these concerns to the forefront.  Wopila!

“There is hope if people will begin to awaken that spiritual part of themselves, that heartfelt knowledge that we are caretakers of this planet.” ~Brooke Medicine Eagle

                                           ~Aho Mitakuye Oyasin

The 314 species at risk:  Allen’s Hummingbird, American Avocet, American Bittern, American Black Duck, American Dipper, American Golden Plover, American Kestrel, American Oystercatcher, American Pipit, American Redstart, American Three-toed Woodpecker, American White Pelican, American Wigeon, American Woodcock, Ancient Murrelet, Anhinga, Baird’s Sparrow, Bald Eagle, Baltimore Oriole, Band-tailed Pigeon, Bank Swallow, Barn Owl, Barrow’s Goldeneye, Bay-breasted Warbler, Bell’s Vireo, Bendire’s Thrasher, Black & White Warbler, Black-backed Woodpecker, Black-bellied Plover, Black-billed Cuckoo, Black-billed Magpie, Black-capped Vireo, Black-chinned Hummingbird, Black-chinned Sparrow, Black-crested Titmouse, Black-crown Night Heron, Black-headed Grosbeak, Black-legged Kittiwake, Black-throated Blue Warbler, Black-throated Gray Warbler, Black-Throated Green Warbler, Black Guillemot, Black Oystercatcher, Black Rosy-finch, Black Skimmer, Black Swift, Black Tern, Black Vulture, Blackburnian Warbler, Blackpoll Warbler, Blue-winged Teal, Blue-winged Warbler, Boat-tailed Grackle, Bobolink, Bohemian Waxwing, Boreal Chickadee, Boreal Owl, Brant, Brewer’s Blackbird, Brewer’s Sparrow, Broad-winged Hawk, Bronze Cowbird, Brown-capped Rosy Finch, Brown-headed Nuthatch, Brown Creeper, Brown Pelican, Bufflehead, Bullock’s Oriole, Burrowing Owl, California Gull, Calliope Hummingbird, Canada Warbler, Cape May Warbler, Caspian Tern, Cassin’s Auklet, Cassin’s Finch, Cave Swallow, Cerulean Warbler, Chestnut-collared Longspur, Chestnut-sided Warbler, Cinnamon Teal, Clapper Rail, Clark’s Grebe, Clark’s Nutcracker, Clay-colored Sparrow, Common Goldeneye, Common Loon, Common Merganser, Common Poorwill, Common Raven, Common Redpoll, Common Tern, Connecticut Warbler, Cordilleran Flycatcher, Crested Caracara, Double-crested Cormorant, Dovekie, Dunlin, Dusky Flycatcher, Dusky/Sooty Grouse, Eared  Grebe, Eastern Whip-Poor-Will, Emperor Goose, Eurasian Wigeon, Evening Grosbeak, Ferruginous Hawk, Fish Crow, Florida Scrub Jay, Foster’s Tern, Franklin’s Gull, Gadwall, Gila Woodpecker, Gilded Flicker, Glaucous Winged Gull, Glossy Ibis, Golden-Cheeked Warbler, Golden-crowned Kinglet, Golden-fronted Woodpecker, Black-backed Gull, Great Gray Owl, Greater Sage Grouse, Greater Scaup, Greater White-fronted Goose, Greater Yellowlegs, Green-tailed Towhee, Gull-billed Tern, Gyrfalcon, Hairy Woodpecker, Hammond’s Flycatcher, Henslow’s Sparrow, Hepatic Tanager, Hermit Thrush, Hermit Warbler, Herring Gull, Hooded Merganser, Hooded Oriole, Hooded Warbler, Horned Grebe, House Finch, Hutton’s Vireo, Juniper Titmouse, King Eider, King Rail, Kittlitz’s Murrelet, Laughing Gull, Lawrence’s Goldfinch, Le Conte’s Sparrow, Le Conte’s Thrasher, Least Bittern, Least Flycatcher, Least Grebe, Least Tern, Lesser Prairie Chicken, Lesser Scaup, Lesser Yellowlegs, Lewis’s Woodpecker, Little Gull, Long-billed Curlew, Long-billed Thrasher, Long-eared Owl, Louisiana Waterthrush, Magnolia Warbler, Mallard, Mangrove Cuckoo, Marbled Godwit, Marsh Wren, McCown’s Longspur, Merlin, Mexican Jay, Mississippi Kite, Montezuma Quail, Mountain Bluebird, Mountain Chickadee, Mountain Plover, Mountain Quail, Mourning Warbler, Nashville Warbler, Nelson’s/Saltmarsh Sparrow, Northern Fulmar, Northern Gannett, Northern Harrier, Northern Hawk Owl, Northern Pygmy Owl, Northern Saw-Whet Owl, Northern Shoveler, Olive Warbler, Orchard Oriole, Osprey, Ovenbird, Pacific-slope Flycatcher, Pacific Golden Plover, Painted Redstart, Palm Warbler, Parasitic Jaeger, Peregrine Falcon, Philadelphia Warbler, Pigeon Guillemot, Pine Grosbeak, Pine Siskin, Pine Warbler, Pinyon Jay, Piping Plover, Polarine Jaeger, Prairie Falcon, Purple Finch, Purple Sandpiper, Pygmy Nuthatch, Razorbill, Red-breasted Merganser, Red-breasted Nuthatch, Red-breasted Sapsucker, Red-cockaded Woodpecker, Red-faced Warbler, Red-napped Sapsucker, Red-necked Grebe, Red-throated Loon, Red Crossbill, Red Knot, Reddish Egret, Redhead, Rhinoceros Auklet, Ring-billed Gull, Ring-necked Duck, Rock Sandpiper, Roseate Spoonbill, Royal Tern, Ruddy Turnstone, Ruffed Grouse, Rufous-crowned Sparrow, Rufous Hummingbird, Rusty Blackbird, Sage Thrasher, Sagebrush Sparrow, Sandhill Crane, Sandwich Tern, Scarlet Tanager, Seaside Sparrow, Sedge Wren, Semipalmated Plover, Sharp-tailed Grouse, Short-billed Dowicher, Short-eared Owl, Smith’s Longspur, Snowy Owl, Solitary Sandpiper, Spotted Owl, Spotted Sandpiper, Sprague’s Pipit, Stilt Sandpiper, Surfbird, Swainson’s Hawk, Swallow-tailed Kite, Swamp Sparrow, Tennessee Warbler, Thayer’s Gull, Thick-billed Murre, Townsend’s Solitaire, Townsend’s Warbler, Tree Swallow, Tri-colored Blackbird, Tri-colored Heron, Trumpeter Swan, Tundra Swan, Varied Thrush, Vaux’s Swift, Veery, Vesper’s Sparrow, Violet-green Swallow, Virginian’s Warbler Western Bluebird, Western Grebe, Western Gull, Western Screech-Owl, Western Tanager, Western Wood Pewee, Whimbrel, White-breasted Nuthatch, White-crowned Pigeon, White-faced Ibis, White-headed Woodpecker, White-tailed Hawk, White-tailed Kite, White-throated Sparrow, White-throated Swift, White-winged Crossbill, Whooping Crane, Wild Turkey, Willet, Williamson’s Sapsucker, Willow Flycatcher, Wilson’s Phalarope, Wilson’s Plover, Wilson’s Warbler, Wood Duck, Wood Stork, Wood Thrush, Worm-eating Warbler, Yellow-bellied Flycatcher, Yellow-bellied Sapsucker, Yellow-billed Loon, Yellow-billed Magpie, Yellow-headed Blackbird, Yellow-throated Vireo, Yellow-throated Warbler, Yellow Rail, and Zone-tailed Hawk.

Death Is A Miracle

“… it is the oldest sound there was… souls flying away…”           Sue Monk Kidd, The Secret Life of Bees

The night before my Mom stopped speaking, her sense of humor was fully intact.  We’d been looking at photographs together. Me sitting on the edge of her bed with a laptop.  Her well propped with pillows and covered only with a sheet, her feet out, newly polished toenails.  When she closed her eyes for a little rest I sat in a chair at her bed side, still sorting through photographs.  Randomly I asked if she’d like to see one of a Canada goose.  With closed eyes, she wryly replied she didn’t want to be goosed.  That was five days before she died.

Much later that night, Bill rounded the corner to enter her room, stagger stopping at the sight of me.  To his credit, he put his head down and forged his way into the room any way, taking her right hand.  Bill was my Mother’s husband of 24 years.  He’d gone missing for weeks after she was hospitalized.  I could have blamed him that she was here and not in her own bed.  For his own reasons he could blame me too.   Half hour later, their murmured conversation long gone silent, he and I yet to make eye contact – she turned to me and brightly asked if I’d go get her a donut.  Anything.  She’d barely eaten in months.  Sugar cookies were brought in by Natalie, her nurse, a while later – offered to her first, then me, next Bill.  I watched as mom’s delicate fingers pinched a morsel from her cookie and place it in her mouth. Thoughtfully, she put the cookie down reached over and took my hand in hers then did the same with Bill’s – in that moment, she was more than the bridge between us, she was a healer bridging the gap.  He left shortly afterwards.  I watched her peaceful face for hours, marveled at her graceful hands again and again as she half-slept.  I half-slept too, holding a fragile hand.

The next morning there was not a cloud to be seen in the Arizona sky.  Birds chirping in the distance refusing to be drowned out by the noise of a back-hoe across the street.  We were in the Joan and Diana Hospice Home, the windows were big, the curtains open wide.  On my last visit, Mom had asked me to read her poetry so I was armed with my favorites this trip.  Instead of poetry though, she asked if I’d read to her from the bible.  Of course.  What?  I’ve never read the bible, me either she told me.  I opened it arbitrarily and began to read.  Off and on throughout the morning she slept.  I kept reading, often pausing to look at her gentle face, thin and pale, jaw and cheek bones much too prominent.  Her breathe soft.

I whispered to her some time later I was going to go get a bit to eat could I bring her something from that great Mexican restaurant on 4th Street.  She wasn’t hungry.  Fact was, she hadn’t been hungry in a very long time.  How about a shot of tequila then I offered.  Smiling at me broadly with both her chapped mouth and piercing hazel eyes no thank you I don’t want tequila!  Unbeknownst to me, those would be her last words.  Talking would take up too much precious energy.  She had gone within – some place only the dying know, some place internal, someplace were words were no longer necessary.

In the days that followed, I don’t know how many times I told her I love her, that we all do.  I don’t know how many times I told her how grateful I was she was my mother, that we were all grateful.  I don’t know how many times I tried to comfort her with my impossible promise that we’d all take care of one another.  A pitiful lie that I desperately wanted to be truth.

Natalie had checked my Mother into JDHH a few weeks earlier.  Soft spoken and tender-hearted, she like the others on staff, Denise, Sue and Meredith, are angels with skin.  She encouraged me to make calls, tell everyone time was of the essence.  Family, friends, co-workers, everyone called back to speak to her.  Holding the phone to her ear, I saw her expressions registering emotions of recognition, she heard every word.  Every call was meaningful.

Pastor Rita came to sit with us a  little each day.

Bill came for some portion of each day too, even staying over two of these last few nights.  We talked about benign meaningless things, passing time.  One night he told me he had so much regret, so much he wanted her to know.  Tell her!  She may need to know!  She might be waiting to hear your words!  I left him with her.  From the hallway, I couldn’t hear the words – only his miserable grief choked tears strangling unknown confessions.  Then he disappear again.

I stayed as close as I could.  Maybe too close I feared, easing away at times to give her some space.  When I couldn’t yield any longer, I lay near to her again.  I needed to.  I prayed in my way.  Her expressions again registered the words, acknowledging with raised eyebrows, an attempted smile. Understanding.  I lay my cheek against hers.  I sang made up lyrics.  Again and again – I love you.  We love you.  I couldn’t say it enough.

Each day subtle shifts – she slipped deeper into herself.  Her breathing changing daily.  That’s one thing that stands out, the way her breathing continually changed in the next treasured few days.  Shallow and nearly imperceptible.  Slow and steady.  Gulping and erratic.  She remained sweet and peaceful in her closed eye silence.

I was reading aloud Mary Oliver’s Redbird, every page except the poem Iraq.  For some reason I felt the need  to spare her words of war, even Mary Oliver’s poetic take.  Just after 2pm she gagged unexpectedly.  Alarmed I jumped up to find her eyes wide open, wild with fear.  Another gag followed.  It seemed to taste awful and she fought it.  I believe she knew it was Death’s way of calling .  A dose of morphine.  Then the breath known as the death rattle began.  I’ve heard this breath before, though this time it was different.  I too was put on call, her life, the scantiness of what remained palpable.  My tears spilled over, my strength for her momentary gone.

Rita asked permission to come, offer last rites.  And kindly, she didn’t want me to be alone.  We each prayed – she, a Christian called Christ and angels, anointing Mom with oil.  I called on her Ancestors, her allies.  The room filled up with spirits, a cavalcade waiting to take her home.  I called Bill.

He came.  Rita left us alone with her.  Nurses in and out, in and out.  Then again, he was gone.

About 11 o’clock Meredith settled into a chair to keep watch on Mom and hold vigil with me.  The death rattle persistent.  Pause.  We’d watch closer.  Me never letting go of her hand, me telling her we all loved her again.  And again.  Her breathing  resumed.  Meredith had worked with Mom at the Gardens, an elder care facility.  Several of Mom’s caregivers had been co-workers at some time in the last 8 years, they treated her with such love, respectfully tending to her.  Her dying was also their loss.  Pause.  Her congested breathing continued in rasps and tears and pauses.  Still she was working things through, another breath, not yet complete.   Dying takes courage.  Dying is a miracle, like birth and life.

Moments before midnight the death rattle stopped.  In its place were fewer than a dozen normal breaths.  With them came the look of serenity on her relaxed face.  In those precious few moments she looked as though she’d found whatever she needed.  To me it looked like peace.  She surrendered into the arms of those waiting to take her over, across the veil and into new form.  She was stunningly beautiful.

We waited.

Time of death was called at 12:01am, October 2, 2013.

Meredith left me alone for as long as I needed.  I washed her body.  Brushed her hair.  I put her wedding ring in a box.  And wrapped her in a beautiful hand-made shawl that some unknown and kind volunteer had sewn for a stranger who just happened to be my mother.  Her name was Toni.  She was tenacious and funny.  She loved unconditionally.  I called my sisters, and Bill again, my son, her sister and brother.  I called Meredith who called the coroner.  A candle had been lit.

I drove on auto-pilot to the first hotel I could find with a vacancy sign.  Collapsing on the bed in my grief, the loneliness and loss flooded in.  That was the first time she came to comfort me from the other realm.

“Time eases all things.” Sophocles

I am ever grateful she allowed me to witness her crossing.  Ever indebted to her unceasing love.  She is still loving me.  Loving us.  And we are still loving her, it hasn’t eased.

All My Relations…

 

Taking A Wellness Day – What’s Yours Like?

“The part can never be well unless the whole is well.” ~ Plato

Sleeping in.  Waking to my natural clock.  Greeting my posse.  Coffee and the birds.  My  journal, reflection.

“Meditation brings wisdom; lack of meditation leaves ignorance. Know well what leads you forward and what holds you back and choose the path that leads to wisdom.“ ~ Buddha

Stretch.

“Our bodies are our gardens—our wills are our gardeners.“                    ~ Shakespeare

“Some of us think that holding on makes us strong, but sometimes, it is the letting go.” ~ Herman Hesse

Computer time (optional).

“I am not the only person who uses his computer mainly for the purpose of diddling with his computer.”  ~ Dave Barry

Outdoor time (required).

“Wilderness is not a luxury but a necessity of the human spirit.”          ~ Edward Abbey

Work. 

My work is my inspiration in life.  It is the seed to my growing wellness within.  I am blessed with a vocation that fills and uplifts both myself and those who come to be guided through their own process with the creation of a medicine object.  Never has there been a single person to come into the studio who has left unfulfilled.  What a blessing!  The Mystery is ever present in the medicine.  It doesn’t matter if I am working alone or with others, Spirit is always present.  The essence and organic nature of the materials used is very much alive, it speaks volumes in subtle ways.  These objects come at  their own pace as well – always teaching me what in need in the moment with grace and ease.  Working with and for others in the various capacities I am privileged to work in – feathers, four-legged, plant and mineral – it seems my entire life is about wellness.  Wopila!

I always cook – healthy food too is good medicine.  I find it so satisfying to eat well.  I feel the wealth of healthy food (wishing everyone could eat well).  I like to sit on the dock to eat my dinner when the weather is nice, watch the minnows and the birds.  This time of year, the last place the sun touches in my yard as it sets is the very end of my dock – I am often there for that moment.  Like the sunrise, the sunset seems like a holy moment – I hear angels sing.

Oddly, I’m a Jeopardy nerd.  I’ll take “Trying to get smart by osmosis for $1000 Alex”.

And I allow for rest.  I don’t feel I need to cram some sort of effort into each minute of the day – rest brings wellness.  A slower pace, as Char has said many times, “medium to slow” it works best for me.  A good book.  A comfortable bed.  Starlight or clouds.  My dream stone.  Gratitude for whatever the day held – especially if it included talking with my son or sisters – my family, blood and marriages, chosen ones – they are my wellness too.  Prayers for what is needed, prayers for what has been received.  Wopila!

“Each man is good in His sight. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows.”  ~Sitting Bull

 What makes for wellness in your day?