Hawk, Dove, and New Garden
The original post starts after this introduction. I hafta say I get a kick out of the irony - y'all have been talking about unedited posts, straight from "I", and I tend ta agree with that. But as I finished this post this morning, and went to send it, I found that the internet was kaput regionally. Luckily I have developed, through prudence and from losing too many posts to tech glitches, the habit of composing the post on "notepad". Yes, I do edit. It allows me, also, to save a post if something unforeseen comes up.
I feel that editing allows me the chance to pull the original inspiration into a clearer focus, with the continued influence still advising. The internet was off all day long, as was cell phone service. The irony comes in the subject matter of my delayed post; which begins now..........
Much of the hard physical labor is finished; perhaps 12-13 hours worth, spread out over available time off from gainful employment and other responsibilities of life. I enjoy the grueling work for its beneficial effects on the aging body, but also, and perhaps more dearly, for the way mindfulness plays out thoughts, images, concepts, intuition, and ideas. I experience it as ribbon-like - a streamer of satiny, shiny cognition. And where there is ribbon there sometimes are gifts. On the banal level: I have been doing yardwork, like so many people do in the Spring. On the esoteric level? Groovin', my friends!
The little faerie garden, just down the arroyo slope, has become a new and surprising attraction for birds. I found large (25-30 lb.) flat stones and planted them around a mound built of rubble and brush. The stones allude to the standing stones of Britain. This garden is peopled by quail, finches, white-crowned sparrows, lark sparrows, vesper sparrows, orioles, kingbirds, and juncos. I also sank-in a cake pan, as a pool for all the winged ones.
Just this morning I was treated to the sight of a mourning dove, perched proudly atop one standing stone. The dusky plummage blended well with the stones and the surrounding sage brush. Only the little pink feet really stuck out from the tableau of the arroyo. It was an oriole that spooked the dove and sent her away, but the shadow of the hawk sometimes passes over the land. The hawk is a small one, but swift and attentive as well. The raptor came with the faerie garden - part and parcel, as a result of my interactions with the land. What I call a "feeding station" is also as such for the little raptor, although the meaning is slightly altered.
I take pride in the way I was able to read the land, informed by a long and fierce winter, to use the topology in an "eco-friendly" way. Or - did it use me? My drainage trenches will prevent damage to the man-made structures here, but they will also serve as irrigation ditches, on a micro-level - what the natives here call acequias. They will harvest the rain and snow for us, and channel it, if needed, to the plants. Corn and squash will be planted quite soon. An old Native American man told me yesterday that it is time to plant those things. I've already seeded the yard with grass seed.
As I wrote the previous paragraph I was interupted by a phone call. My beloved partner was calling to remind me to turn off her laptop computer. She instructed me to look out the front window. Her first nursing call (home health nursing in this rural area) of the day had taken her to a nearby home. I could see her car, about a half mile across the sage plains, and imaged her waving. These are the old rabbit hunting grounds, they say, for the Pueblo people. So - I am reminded of the confluence of modern technology (cell phones, internet) with the old ways.
Terence McKenna once called technology (paraphrased) "the residue of human consciousness". Hmmmm.... could it be?! Something left behind as a result of emergent consecrense? Phewww, too much for my head. (winks anyway)
Here I sit at the computer, wireless connection, writing for people all over the world, and sitting smack dab in the middle of ancient hunting grounds. Yet, the animals still hunt here. I saw a raven, just the other day, with a half eaten Braeburn apple in his beak (I am a professional grocery worker, friends, I knows me apples!). He was proudly showing it to his fellow corvae. I got a big laugh out of that. Then I also consider that our house also lies beneath the landing path for small jets which land at the nearby airport. Then I also think of chatting with Dr. Strassman, last week, and getting the update on his new book, and a progress report on his consciousness studies, which relate to McKenna's work, and to my faerie garden ta bien.
That said, I marvel at the bounty of this life I live! But I must go to work. The spirit world speaks to me daily. I like that, A lot.
~ Ken
