Showing posts with label Ann Waters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ann Waters. Show all posts

Friday, June 8, 2018

Chubasco! Monsoon! Waiting for the Rains...........

"Our Lady of the Desert Spring", performance from "The Awakening",
 a Play directed and produced by Annie Waters in Willits, Californis (2013)

In Southern Arizona, June is like January in, say, Minnesota - we just try to endure and survive it.  It's mind boggling hot in June, and dry, the month when fires start, when plants and people wilt, when kids fry eggs on the pavement a few times before becoming bored with it all.  Shimmering heat waves seem to rise from the asphalt pavement of parking lots, and people hurry from one air conditioned space to the next.  


We, and the parched and thirsty land, await Monsoon Season.  Chubasco, the great magnificent storms that, if all is well, begin in mid July and last sometimes into September.   The storms that seem to roll in the afternoons, announcing themselves with thunder and lightening, the delightfully scary and loud darkening of the sky, and then Boom!  A blessed wall of water descends (if the Thunder Gods are so inclined). 


Suddenly the streets fill with water, a river runs down Broadway, cars stop, and a few of us just stand in the rain getting drenched by the blessing of it all.  And then, just as quickly as they rolled in, the Katchinas, Chubasco, the Numina of the waters.........blow away, off to some other part of the desert.  Then you stand amazed at the river your street has become, the sound of emergency vehicles and car horns are heard (because there are always fools who try to drive in the midst of the downpour), magnificent rainbows are seen over Tucson, the pungent scent of chapparell is ubiquitous, and all are refreshed.  

Within two hours, the streets are dry, and seemingly overnight, the desert has greened and flowered.   Most of our water for the coming year comes from the Monsoons - if these patterns of rain should change, life here would cease.  Water is life.   Yes, we love our Monsoons!  


Saturday, July 30, 2016

Our Lady of the Waters


The Monsoons have come at last, 3 blessed days of the Thunder Beings rushing in, the Katchinas dancing in the skies, and then the streets and the arroyos run with the blessing of water.  I remembered NUMINA - OUR CHANGING EARTH, the 2013 play by Ann Waters and her community in Willits, California, which I was privileged to create masks for.   Photos are courtesy Jerri Jo Idarius.




Lady of the Desert Spring

Our lady of the Arroyos, 
Come to us,
Come to us, 
O come to us.

Nuestra SeƱora de las Aguas  

Mother of the cottonwoods, 
the Palos Verdes
Snake and mallow
ocotillo and saguaro
night-blooming Cereus
night-roaming  coyote 
red tail hawk and la paloma
two-legged, four-legged, 
and those who fly

Hear our prayers 
O desert spring
Hear our prayers 
for those who suffer thirst, 
for the parched earth. 

Spread your mantle of green and turquoise, 
your bright artery of life, 
upon this empty riverbed,
upon this ancient aquifer, 
down the arroyos
of our dreams. 






Thursday, February 4, 2016

Homeric Hymn to Mother Earth

from "Numina - Our Changing Earth", a play by Ann Waters

To Earth the Mother of All

I will sing of the well-founded Earth,
mother of all, eldest of all beings.
She feeds all creatures that are in the world,
all that go upon the goodly land,
all that are in the paths of the seas, and all that fly;
all these are fed of her store.

Through you, O Queen, we are blessed
In our children, and in our harvest
and to you we owe our lives.
Happy are we who you delight to honor!

We have all things abundantly:
our houses are filled with good things,
our cities are orderly,
our sons exult with feverish delight.
(May they take no delight in war)
Our daughters with flower-laden hands
play and skip merrily over the soft flowers of the field.
(May they seek peace for all peoples)

Thus it is for those whom you honor,
O holy Goddess, Bountiful spirit!
Hail Earth, mother of the gods,
freely bestow upon us for this our song
that cheers and soothes the heart!
(May we seek peace for all peoples of the well-founded earth)


Homeric Hymn XXX,
adapted by Elizabeth Roberts

Friday, April 12, 2013

The Oracles - from "The Awakening" (Post #2)

Corizone Elliott as "The Pythoness - Oracle"



THE PYTHONESS:

Pilgrim and Kings, alike, answers sought, spoke of their hopes and dreams,
 journeyed to holy Delphi,  a crevice, deep in the earth,
 journeyed to the Oracle, the Sibyl, the Pythoness
 In trance, she spoke
 offered visions, offered hope:



Behold I draw a spiral for You - 

Step In I implore You


You are vessels of  
Finely Woven well pitched baskets
Ancient Urns, Carved boxes
and Medicine Bundles
Fashioned From Your Perfect Heart
They are Still Safe Inside HER Holy Womb

Ancient Prayers Stir the Air,
Stirring Breath and Bone 
Inspiration, Invocation, 
Your hope is yours alone.
To touch what was a memory brings no fruit, 
Your silent longing is the proof

As the Years move to months, 
Months move to days
Numina witness you this Night,
Numina witness you this Night,

Floating plastic, Trash, decay, 
Fill our planet and oceans today
Young and Old cry out to be free,
Grieving  loss from each killing spree
Earth Mother Gaia raped 
of soil and honor brings famine
Extinction threatens sockeye salmon
Elders sit alone in Hunger waiting; 


Chorus:  Man’s compassion dissipating.

Time to listen, Take note, Stand strong
Mark My Words - It won’t be long
When no water will be safe to drink, 
And Men will lose their right to think
Because their judgment is impaired 
with residue of regret and mind despaired.
Desolation’s Darkened Dance
Stomps out the last of free will’s chance
False pride clothed in glamour’s fashion -
a deceptive weaving of wasteful action

Chorus:  Grinding you down ...Back Down to dust.


A woman weeps - A baby cries, a seed refuses to grow
Where now there is open sea there once was gentle snow.
Fruitless trees that do not bear, drought pursues you everywhere.

But Listen within - Your Soul Still Knows.
Ageless Grace resounds around.

Chorus : A Prophecy is about to unfold


Thallia Bird as "The Weaver"


THE WEAVER:

Listen. Things are unraveling.   
Let me tell you about the fabric of your life. 
Your soul is the tightened yarn of the weft; your spirit is the weave. 
Your spirit is woven into the mat on which you kneel, 
into the cloak that wraps around the shoulders of your everyday lives.
 
Allow the distressed threads of your life to unravel. 
I have an old yarn. I have a new yarn.

Chorus: Take this yarn from me.

Form a weft that makes you strong
Take this yarn from me
Weave the threads so life goes on
 Take this yarn from me.
           
Stories are woven into the land. Stories wrap themselves
around old bones and compost, vine and curl and leaf in the night,
stories written in the rocks about Deer and Raven,
sung by a Tree Nesting Warbler, stories found
in the cold hearts of sleeping mountains.

Walk out into the orchard. Sit beneath a fruiting tree. 
Notice the shapes of things. The shape of the sky,
the shapes of the shadows, the shape of your own shadow.

There are cracks in the land like a spider web,
full of light, full of fire. Once,
you could see the Web as plain as day. 
Song lines, leylines, threads, the pattern. 
Each shining, woven thread.

It’ s time to weave a new story now.
See yourself as Spiderwoman, 
sitting in the center of your   web.

All of its snaking rivers and twining roots are inside of you! 
All those threads come right out of your hands and out of your hearts
All those threads just go on forever

Chorus:  

Into the Earth, and into each other: 
into all your stories, into everyone you'll ever know,   
Into all those who came before you, 
and all those who will come after you.


Script excerpts by Ann Waters, Mana Youngbear, Lauren Raine
All photographs are copyright Jerri Jo Idarius, and used with her permission.

My gratitude to the fabulous performers of Willits who danced the masks to life!