Wednesday, December 30, 2015
The Eagle Tree and other Magics
Yesterday I was in a parking lot when I saw a huge bird fly right across my line of vision, not 20 feet away. It flew into a palm tree, where I was able to study it for about 10 minutes before it disappeared. I thought it might be a golden eagle, but I suspect it was a hawk of some kind. While there are golden eagles here in Pima country, they are very rare, and especially rare in the city, although red tail hawks seem quite at home here, enjoying the selection of pigeons to hunt. You can always tell when one is nearby, because all the smaller birds become very quiet or fly away.
But the experience of seeing that magnificent creature brought to mind magic that happened in 2003, right around this time of year, that I never forgot, although I never told anyone. To this day there is a certain small, stunted tree in downtown Tucson, in the proximity of where the former Muse Community Art Center once stood, that I will visit and salute when I happen to be in the area.
Specifically there is a branch on that tree, not far from the height of one's head, that I often find myself standing before, as if something invisible was there, regarding me with a fierce yellow eye.
I had moved into the now long gone Muse Community Arts Center, living in a little studio on the second floor there. I had a show in their little gallery in process - a display of the Masks of the Goddess collection. It was very early, just dawn, and I was walking with a cup of coffee in my hand a few blocks from the Muse. I looked up at a this little tree for some reason and saw, not 12 feet from me, a gigantic bird sitting on it's limb, looking right at me, I've seen hawks in central Tucson occasionally, but I've never seen a golden Eagle in Tucson, or for that matter, never in the wild either.
But that was what sat before me in that tree. Far too big to be a hawk. I stopped, afraid to move, and for a full minute or so I looked at the eagle, and the eagle looked at me.
Then the eagle spread its huge wings, rose into the morning sky, making that strange cry that raptors make...........and I stood in awe.
A few days later I found a note from Grey Eagle, a native American traditional Story Teller who had, by chance, seen my show. He wrote that he wanted to meet with me to give me the Story of Sedna, which he had learned from the Inuit people when he lived in Alaska. And that was the beginning of the best, and certainly most mystical, performance I ever produced, which was called "Restoring the Balance", and centered on the Story of Sedna.
I think this is what someone once called the "re-enchantment of the World". Magic.......recently I was considering submitting a possible paper to an academic conference on Magic. But looking at their guidelines..........I imagine long papers on medieval alchemical symbology and the anthropology of magical rites in pre-colonial Borneo, or some such, and already I'm having a problem keeping my eyes open. What is behind the constructs of academia? What is real magic?
I guess to me "magic" is about the great Web of interdependency and ecology that underlies, well, everything, the "entanglement" and "unified field" of a living universe Synchronicity....... as Alice Walker put it, "the Universe Responds".
The Universe Responds
by Alice Walker
A few years ago I wrote an essay called "Everything is a Human Being", which explores to some extent the Naive American view that all of creation is of one substance and therefore deserving of the same respect. In it I described the death of a snake that I caused, and wrote of my remorse.
That summer, "my" land in the country crawled with snakes. There was always the large resident snake, whom my mother named "Susie", crawling about in the area that marks the entrance to my studio. But there were also lots of others wherever we looked. A black-and-white king snake appeared underneath the shower stall in the garden. A striped red-and-black one, very pretty, appeared near the pond. It now revealed the little hole in the ground in which it lived by lying half in and half out of it as it basked in the sun. Garden snakes crawled up and down the roads and paths. One day leaving my house with a box of books in his arms, my companion literally tripped over one of these.
We spoke to all of these snakes in friendly voices. They went their way, we went ours. After about a two week bloom of snakes, we seemed to have our usual number: just Susie and a couple of her children.
A few years later, I wrote an essay about a horse called Blue. It was about how humans treat horses and other animals; how hard it is for us to see them as the suffering, fully conscious, enslaved beings they are. After reading this essay in public only once, this is what happened. A white horse came and settled herself on the land. (Her owner, a neighbor, soon came to move her.) The two horses on the ranch across the road began to run up to their fence whenever I passed, leaning over it and making what sounded like joyful noises. They had never done this before (I checked with the human beings I lived with to be sure of this), and after a few more times of greeting me as if I'd done something especially nice for them, they stopped. Now, when I pass they look at me with the same reserve they did before. But there is still a spark of recognition.
What to make of this?
I think I am telling you that the animals of the planet are in desperate peril, and that they are fully aware of this. No less than human beings are doing in all parts of the world, they also are seeking sanctuary. But I am also telling you that we are connected to them at least as intimately as we are connected to trees. Without plant life human beings could not breathe. They are the lungs of our planet. Plants produce oxygen. Without free animal life I believe we will lose increasingly the spiritual equivalent of oxygen. "Magic", intuition, sheer astonishment at the forms the Universe devises in which to express life - to express itself - will no longer be able to breathe in us.
But what I'm also sharing with you is this thought: The Universe responds. What you ask of it, it gives. The military-industrial complex and its leaders and scientists have shown more faith in this reality than have those of us who do not believe in war and who want peace. They have asked the Earth for all its deadlier substances. They have been confident in their faith in hatred and war. The universe, ever responsive, the Earth, ever giving, has opened itself fully to their desires. Ironically, Black Elk (the Lakota shaman) and nuclear scientists can be viewed in much the same way: as men who prayed to the Universe for what they believed they needed and who received from it a sign reflective of their own hearts.
I remember when I used to dismiss the bumper sticker "Pray for Peace". I realize now that I did not understand it, since I also did not understand prayer; which I know now to be the active affirmation in the physical world of our inseparableness from the divine; and everything, especially the physical world, is divine.
(From: "The Universe Responds: Or, How I learned We Can Have Peace on Earth", Living by the Word, Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, N.Y., N.Y., 1988.)
Saturday, December 26, 2015
A Poem for Light
"God's abstention is only from human dialects;
the holy voice utters its woe and glory in myriad musics,
in signs and portents. Our own words are for us to speak,
a way to ask and to answer."
.....Denise Levertov
There are some gifts that come to us
just once or twice in a lifetime,
gifts that cannot be named
beyond the simple act of gratitude.
We are given a vision so bountiful
we can only gaze with eyes wide,
like a child in summer's first garden.
We reach our clumsy hands
toward that communion
that single perfection
and walk away speechless, blessed.
And breathe,
in years to come
breathe,
breathe our hearts open
aching to tell it well
to sing it into every other heart
to dance it down, into the hungry soil
to hold it before us
that light,
that grace given
voiceless light
Lauren Raine
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Thoughts on Pax Gaia at the Holidays
Pax Gaia (the Peace of Earth) is the most compelling challenge of our time. Geologian, Thomas Berry introduced this theme after 9/11 in an essay reflecting the urgent need to embrace a cosmology of truly comprehensive Gaian peace. It is a peace that transcends Pax Romana (the peace of an empire) and Pax Humana (peace among humans).
"We are called as an evolving humanity to the Great Work that engenders Pax Gaia. To this end we create and foster deep cultural therapies that address the deep cultural pathology of our time that has brought about such ecological damage."
(T. Berry, Evening Thoughts, 2006)
"Only now can we see with clarity that we live not so much in a cosmos (a place) as in a cosmogenesis (a process) -- scientific in its data, mythic in its form."
~ The Universe Story by Brian Swimme and Thomas Berry
The Winter Solstice was perhaps the earliest universal holy day, celebrated in different ways throughout the world from the earliest days of human culture. When language was young, when even the gods and goddesses had not yet taken human forms in the human imagination, but ran instead with deer in the forest, flew with the wings of crows, or were glimpsed nameless from the awed depths of every numinous pool, sensed as Presence in the depths of caves........ even then, the Return of the Light was a holy day, a day of celebration.
Long ago ancestors lit fires to welcome the "shining god" who was the sun returning from mysterious underworld depths. They built stones or made circles or created doorways to be aligned with the sun's pathway. They lit fires as sympathetic magic, fires to light and imitate the Sun's passage (which is why we still light candles, and Christmas lights, today, although no one remembers.........)
I remember at this Holy/Wholly/Holiday Day that holy days begin among our most ancient, instinctual roots, taproots that reach down, deeply entwined within the visible and invisible web of Gaia's life.
Planet Earth turns her face toward her star again, circling in brilliant orbit, bearing every evolving, responsive, living, infinitely intertwined be-ing within her fragile, exquisite azure skin on her long journey.
Perhaps we sense, as the sun rises, that pre-verbal, instinctual knowing, found hidden beneath the pages of any book written with five fingered hands, beneath each inscribed layer of words, signs, hieroglyphs, pictures in jet or ochre or sepia, luminous beneath the oldest pages. A veneer peels away, revealing a pentimento, an ancient heartbeat, shared again with all beings that keep vigil on the long night of the winter Solstice.
I pledge allegiance
to the soil of Turtle Island,
and to the beings
who thereon dwell
one ecosystem in diversity
under the sun
With joyful
interpenetration for all.
Gary Snyder
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Defending the Arts on the Holidays
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WomenArts Website: www.womenarts.org |
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Another Solstice Wish: The Prayer of Saint Francis
-
- It's funny how sometimes a thought, or event, or insight, is preceded by itself,
it seems to announce itself first. I posted this yesterday, and today found myself waiting
at Saint Francis In The Foothills Church, where I had turned up to do some volunteer work.
Turns out the event was cancelled, but while waiting in that beautiful place I walked the Labyrinth on the
Church grounds. And I found myself repeating this prayer. I thank the Spirit of Saint Francis, who seems
to be active in the world now, for my own inspiration at the Solstice. - PRAYER OF SAINT FRANCIS
- Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
- Amen.
St. Francis lived his life with joy and appreciation for all things created.
I had an artistic vision of St. Francis surrounded by the animals and birds of the desert Southwest. I wanted to show the calm and peace the animals might feel while in the presence of Francis. The beautiful Sabino Canyon and the blue Arizona sky are the background of my mosaic. The tiles have the texture of rock and vegetation.
I had an artistic vision of St. Francis surrounded by the animals and birds of the desert Southwest. I wanted to show the calm and peace the animals might feel while in the presence of Francis. The beautiful Sabino Canyon and the blue Arizona sky are the background of my mosaic. The tiles have the texture of rock and vegetation.
I painted the tiles of my birds and my lizard “Marco” using my photographs. They are frequent visitors to my garden. My inspiration for the Bobcats and the Coyote were from amazing wildlife photos by Sam Angevine, www.samangevine.com. He has allowed me to use his images for my models. The roadrunners in the foreground, “Bella” and “Edward”, are feathered friends of artist Geri Niedermiller,http://gekkosworkshop.5thelement.com .
Labels:
art,
Ginny Moss Rothwell,
Peace,
Saint Francis
Friday, December 18, 2015
Winter Solstice 2015
luminaria on Serpent Mound |
You, darkness, that I come from
I love you more than all the fires
that fence in the world,
for the fire makes a circle of light for everyone
and then no one outside learns of you.
But the darkness pulls in everything –
shapes and fires, animals and myself,
how easily it gathers them! –
powers and people –
and it is possible
a great presence is moving near me.
I have faith in nights.
Rainer Maria Rilke
December Moon
Before going to bed
After a fall of snow
I look out on the field
Shining there in the moonlight
So calm, untouched and white
Snow silence fills my head
After I leave the window.
Hours later near dawn
When I look down again
The whole landscape has changed
The perfect surface gone
Criss-crossed and written on
Where the wild creatures ranged
While the moon rose and shone.
Why did my dog not bark?
Why did I hear no sound
There on the snow-locked ground
In the tumultuous dark?
How much can come, how much can go
When the December moon is bright,
What worlds of play we'll never know
Sleeping away the cold white night
After a fall of snow.
May Sarton
Pledge of Allegiance
I pledge allegiance to the soil
of Turtle Island,
and to the beings who thereon dwell
one ecosystem
in diversity
under the sun
With joyful interpenetration for all.
Gary Snyder
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
Completely Unrelated to Christmas..........Mermaids Enroute to Needles
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