Category Archives: Spiritual

Journey under ochre-colored skies…

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We live in a Time of Turning. A Time of Shadow where ecological trajectories we have depended upon and taken for granted in our encultured way of life are beginning to skew and fall. We have depended upon natural resources for everything from aluminum foil to our houses. Electricity, transportation of goods and services, medical advancements, even the salt which sits meekly on our kitchen tables.

We are beginning, just beginning to observe “wiggles” in the large planetary cycles that drive the sustainability of Life for all Beings in this miraculous World we live in. It seems like news of extinction rates and changes in the climate regime, and deteriorating ecosystems reach our eyes and ears readily from information services. As human beings, this news can hit ones solar plexus like a sucker punch… and our survival instincts can respond with a wave of emotions triggered by adrenaline. We begin to feel endangered, with imaginings of what we observe with declining populations of other creatures such as the whale, the orangutan, polar bears, sea turtles, even in local deer populations. We should feel anxious. It is a normal response to environmental changes we have little control over.

I spoke with a women friend the other day who was feeling overwhelmed by the recent research analysis put out by the United Nations scientists this past week. Choking tears came easily, followed by feelings of fear for her children. She spoke of doubt, of not knowing how effective we can be as a species to turn things around through effective action on a global scale…. “Are we even going to be here in 12 years?”

My answer to that question is “Yes”, humanity will still be here at that time. What is being projected with ocean waters rising, is that tidal cities and settlements will be flooded. More erratic weather such as hurricanes, typhoons, tornados, heavy rain and snow in winter and drought will become the norm. With these changes come shifts in insect populations, disease vectors (such as ticks and mosquitoes), changes in plant physiology that will affect bird and other wildlife population food sources and migration patterns, as well as our industrialized food crops. We will have to adapt, as well as every other living being on the planet.

Adaptation takes time. I teach folks how to cook with the Sun using solar cookers. The energy is free and the cost for a solar cooker is reasonable. The challenge lies in getting folks use to the different texture of food cooked by the sun. Flour products such as brownies do not “crisp” up in a solar oven. They come out fully cooked, but the texture is softer, more crumbly than a batch made in a conventional oven. Not as gooey. It’s kind of funny to hear folks mention the texture….. it looks like a brownie, smells and tastes like one too, but it’s CRUMBLY!

We have such fixed ideas of what we find acceptable for both enjoyment and basic needs. Buy used clothes from a thrift store? Never! They are dirty or have lice…recycled appliances? Worthless, they are going to break anyway…Learn to repair items I own? Why? I can just throw it out and buy a new one at Walmart….endless avenues for adaptive behavior.

It takes a 500 foot, 8000-ton ship over a third of a mile to turn around in the ocean. A large barge may take up to 5 miles to stop after the brake is applied. It will take years, decades perhaps, to get the human community to adapt to the required specifications to turn around the current trajectory of global climate change. It is not going to be a speedy process…. AND, we keep having babies that put more pressure on Mother to provide them with food, shelter, clothing and education.

Will we make these changes in time before multiple major planetary cycles shift and create cascading environmental trajectories to our demise? I don’t know…..Death comes to all things on this Planet. Close to 99.9% of all species created by Mother have gone extinct.

We have now entered the stage of the “sixth largest mass extinction” this Planet has experienced… largely due to our own hands. We purchase items that continue to deplete our natural resources: palm oil in cosmetics and food products; metal demands for cars, infrastructure needs, industrial and household goods; timber for paper products and lumber; etc. The list of wants is endless, and Mothers cupboards are becoming bare.

I now walk under “ochre-colored skies”, although they may appear blue above my head. Ochre is the color of iron oxide, one of the most common minerals found on earth. There is much evidence that yellow and red ochre pigment was used in prehistoric and ancient times by many different civilizations on different continents…all over the globe. In death, red ochre represented a return to the earth or possibly as a form of ritual rebirth, through the blood and the Great Goddess. Yellow ochre is associated with gold, considered to symbolize the eternal and indestructible…

So in short, I walk under ochre-colored skies for the Great Remembering of the indestructible rebirth of Life on our planet, of my connection to Her through my blood and bone and to my continued Honor and Respect to the greatest of all Goddesses, Gaea Herself.

A Woman’s Staff…

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I been thinking about the subject of walking sticks lately. As an ecologist, botanist and herb-wife, one can often find me outside wandering the local hills, drainages and wetlands. Prior to stepping out-of-doors, I always equip myself with basic field gear: a hat, jacket or vest, gloves, boots and a pocket knife. Yet the most essential tool I reach for and rely on is my walking stick. I “never leave home without it”, as they say…

The walking stick, or staff as I prefer to call it, has been used since ancient times as a weapon, record, and support for the tired feet and legs of the sojourner. Banned from owning conventional weapons, the poor of many countries traditionally turned to the staff for protection. Elite members of tribes would carry a staff as a symbol of authority and power. The Druids believed that a thicket of small trees had its own living spirit, and would apologize to a tree before cutting it for a staff. I prefer to look upon my own walking staff as a support, an equalizer and a guide into the understanding of simple truths.

My staff is handmade of chokecherry, a straight shoot I cut from a thicket of chokecherry suckers I discovered near an antique barn in town. The chokecherry is one of my favorite tree/shrubs. Chokecherry fruits are edible and I make scrumptious jams, syrups and occasionally a heady scented wine from its berries. In addition to foodstuffs, I have been given a great gift from the chokecherry. My walking staff is a powerful, transformative tool on my walk or sojourn in this wide World. It is the one item that consistently accompanies me when I dive into nature’s landscape regardless of my purpose. It’s with me when I watch a sunrise, feel the rain on my face, or when I turn my back to a strong wind. My staff is there to assist me when walking on uneven ground, crawling over boulders, or walking down the center of creeks when fishing. I instinctively depend on it to keep my Balance. It supports me through awkward maneuvers, pushes aside objects that impede my way, and is used as protection when followed by a mountain lion. A steady companion, indeed.

My staff has taught me how to pause, to be silent, to observe what is before my eyes with mindful attention. I easily lean my chin onto my hands, which are cupped lightly atop its leather covered handle. I always keep my eyes soft when viewing a landscape. It is the landform itself, its mountains or swales, erosional patterns, dendritic patterns indicating water flow. The deposition of rock, clay, granitic sand and surface salts, all demarcated by the presence or absence of specialized plant species. Together, these features show me the surface characteristics of Gaea’s skin….that fine, intricate, biogeochemical layer that creates the alchemy for Life on earth.

When I become aware of the wind as it eddies and pulls around my body and through the textures of vegetation, my eyes soften and close. I allow myself to drop deeply into my sense of hearing. Ears are delicate things, comprised of highly sensitized membranes, tiny bones and nerve endings. They can detect the slightest vibrations of sound carried through the ethers…like the lilting song of a meadowlark, or of water cascading over rocks. If a person listens deep enough, they will discover the cacophony, the hum and thrum of the very heart of Nature. One can hear it through the resonance of frogs, cicadas, and crickets. Through the plaintive call of coyotes in the pre-dawn hours, the hollow tones of the mourning dove, in the cries of tundra swans and Canada geese winging overhead. This heartbeat whispers through the sound of leaf fall in autumn, and in the gentle silence that follows a winter snowfall.

I have learned much while leaning on, and being lead by, my staff. Wisdom only acquired through the silence of my mind and through the simple act of being Present to the world around me. My staff steadies me as I enter, and then leave outdoor spaces. My ingress and egress, coming or going, living and dying. Simple actions we all do everyday. My staff assists and supports me through the uneven, and even dangerous trails of my journey through this Life. It has proven itself a strong ally when I traverse through unknown landscapes and protects me from predators….of all kinds.

Ancient Grove musings…

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I drove to an old orchard today to collect heritage apple, pear and plum shoots. It is located in a wildlife area managed by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife. The orchard was planted about 130 years ago when the area was first homesteaded. I have passed this Grove innumerable times on my way to view wildlife and migratory birds who come into the area… I have often stopped to sit under the shade of these grandmother trees and even pick their fruit on a hot Autumn day. I am committed to planting trees. My favorite venue is to plant trees for food and medicinal value to both wildlife and human beings. That impetus lead me to this Grove today. I plan to root and plant viable shoots from these Grandmother trees.

I am beginning to “age” in my own lifecycle now. I just turned 65 this month of March and am raising my eyes and my inner Vision to embrace this last quarter of my life. I am releasing objectives and ideas that no longer fit into my younger paradigm. Cultural norms that I no longer need to carry, dross paradigms of youth and beauty, social roles I no longer need to partake in. I entered the edge of the Grove in Song, with respect, honor and openness to their existence and their Medicine. I carried a pouch of tobacco, offering a good sized plug to the Grove at their perimeter. I spoke to them of my Intent, to harvest live twigs unadulterated by the fire blight which has hit our beloved Valley these last 2 years. I spoke of more children, their children, in the hope of sprouting roots to the twigs I collected…. I spoke of the Vision I have of growing food from their branches for other living Beings. The multitude of other Beings who may need their nourishment during migration in the surrounding Hills and Mountains long after even I am gone…

These “Women of the Grove” are some tough hombres, rooted to Stand as Witness to the changing times in which we live. They have Stood, neglected and un-tended for decades on end. Their bodies are torqued and twisted with branches that continue to reach up, throughout innumerable seasons, to the turning of the Sun and Moon and star studded skies. They have Watched and Witnessed thousands of birds winging overhead on their yearly migrations. They have talked and communed with the Eagle, Hawk, Wolf, Coyote, Badger, Bobcat, Mountain lion, Marmot and Skunk. Within their hollow trunks resounds the Sigh of all Living Things. Dead trunks embrace like thighs, bright strips of living cambium… Rising now in the colors of red and oranges which speak of Sunrises, Sunsets and Dragons…. They carry with them in their ancient age, the blood of Dragons.

I spoke to them of my own fears of aging… and then I wept. Uncertain of the future that stretches before me, of a World now Turning beneath my feet. I asked for their Blessings, their Medicine and Knowledge that will carry me into this next moment, and the next…They let me Sing to them, offer each one Sacred tobacco, and to caress their bodies. Gnarled boles with dead and dying tissues, hollowed centers used by small animals as nests…. They allowed me to touch the Fire that lay in shallow inclusions along their trunks, warmed by the Springtime sun and fed by the melting, receding snows. Sugars rushing from their deep roots to feed that which still lives…“You will also bend as we have,” they spoke to me, “used up by the Creative Vibration from which you were birthed. Bearing young, and Ripening from the force and heat that lies within your veins”. They added, “You Stand now, as Witness in a Time of great Shadow. Stand and Hold….Hold to what you find to be True. Stand and Hold….with all that is Good, All that Speaks of Balance and Wholeness. Do not fear the death that comes to Us all… rather, Rejoice. For your blood and your Life Force is of Dragons!”

Oh my….. Blessed Be Me, Blessed Be You, ….. Blessed Be …. Everything In Beauty.   March 30th, 2019

Belly Button musings …. Old Stones

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I found an old stone today while cleaning a corner of my studio. I do a lot of beadwork, and most days drop everything from seed beads, semiprecious stones and jewelry findings onto the floor where they skitter in a thousand directions. It is difficult, if not daunting, to squeeze underneath my heavy oak desk to clean and retrieve long lost baubles. They tightly jam themselves between the wall and the baseboard, and underneath the lip of a large piece of vintage linoleum which covers the pine wood floors.

I was using a fine horsehair brush below the baseboard to tease out beads and pieces of jewelry findings when I noticed a long forgotten cabochon jammed in there…. I had to use a piece of wire to force it out, it appeared to have been stuck in there a long time. When I climbed out of the shadows beneath my work bench, I opened my hand to discover a gemstone I had purchased in 1987. I remembered it well….

I took over a PhD research study when the original researcher hurt his back and had to return home to China. I applied as a candidate to the professor who held the research grant and was accepted to complete the studies as a Research Associate. I was little prepared for the 3 years of intense field work that was going to be required.

Anyhoo… when I completed my last day of field work, I drove back to the University. On my way, I purchased a ring at the local country store. A ring that contained the stone I found today….. Hmmm. 31 years ago. Now THAT is a river of time that has flowed through my fingers…. As it turns out, the stone is a “composite”, an “assembled” stone. One that simulates a gemstone and is made of two or three layers of gemstone or glass. These are cemented or fused together so as to appear as a whole natural stone. I did not know that at the time I purchased it. The shopkeeper identified it as a “Black turquoise” at the time. Uh-huh….

Holding that little stone in my hand today, I realized that as a human, and a Woman, classical philosophy has turned me into a “composite”, an “assemblage”…. Although I look human, I am so enculturated in the ideas introduced by a couple of Greek guys, Plato and Aristotle. In the most SIMPLISTIC terms, both men cut the “Wholeness of Being” into a “composite”, an assemblage. A theoretical construct of Body + Mind + Soul. In short, both men surmise that we have a physical body, AND a soul/mind (a thinking Be-ing) which is complete in itself, and capable of living without the body.

Don’t you think there might be an error in this way of thinking? Slicing up into parts and defining lines where there are none?…. Their philosophic ideas have been driven deep into European and Western thought and cultures. These ideas have heavily influenced not only how we see ourselves and each other….but how we see EVERYTHING….. A tree? A forest? An ocean? A rock? A cup of tea… No wonder it is so hard to really “see” and “be” with Gaia and the nature. As a ”composite”, I lack integration and interconnection with myself, let alone everything else….

I want to rip these ideas out of my head, pulling them out through my hair roots. Pulling, pulling, pulling still….until I hold the fibers of my spine tingling in my hands. Perhaps the invisible lines of separation created by philosophy and western culture will simply “poof” disappear….. and the fullness of union with all things will take its place….

A Prayer Feather

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A Prayer Feather

I am not Native American by any measure of the imagination. I do not use indigenous peoples rituals or symbolism in my spiritual sojourn here, nor in my rituals…. It simply is not “me”. My ancestry is of mixed bloodlines, similar to most of us that have been created out of the great diaspora of humans migrating across the globe over the past 500 years.

I come from pretty much northern European peoples: English, Irish, Spanish and French. My paternal grandmother’s people come from New Spain, before California was explored by the Spaniards. Some of the people in my ancestral line were born in the Mexican landscape, part of the ancient lands of Mesoamerica. My paternal grandfather’s lineage is a mix of English and French. My maiden name of “Rowley” is a locational name that came from a variety of places in England including Devon, County Durham, Staffordshire, and Yorkshire. It means a “overgrown wood or clearing” in Old English. The lineage on my mother’s side of the family is predominately Irish and English.

Now… onto the subject of feathers…. Feathers come to me on a regular basis. They are easily found where I live. Il often find them whenever I am out camping and fishing. Often beneath old growth pine trees that serve as perches for eagle, osprey and hawks. I have never delved into the symbolic meaning of feathers until recently….
My ancestors carried ideas and beliefs about feathers that were entrenched within their cultures. Celtic lore holds the perspective that feathers were related to the realm of the sky gods where one could gain knowledge of the celestial realm. In Britannia, the raven symbolized death, while the robin heralded the Christian season of Christmas and the promise of Spring. The eagle represented power, whereas the dove symbolized the virtue of peace and the red kite represents “wildness” of both landscape and its creatures. My Hispanic ancestors lived in a world where feather-working was a common craft and the wide use of feathers was embedded in an intricate cultural and economic milieu.

Who knows where my connection with birds and feathers come from? I simply know that feathers come to me through discovery or gift. Needless to say, it is “in my blood” somewhere in my combined lineages that I feel I am given permission for right “use” of a feather to carry my prayers and intention in the winds of this world…. separate from the beliefs and practices of any indigenous people.

The idea of a Prayer Feather came to me just the other day. I have a friend, once a lover of mine, who is near death. His sojourn is a quiet, private affair, and I wanted to offer something of support his transition. He has Cherokee ancestors which lie in his blood, and I wanted to offer something symbolic which meant something deeper than a simple farewell from my Heart to his….

When contemplating this, my eyes fell upon a large jar of feathers sitting in the work space of my art studio. I gently pulled out feathers of the Golden eagle, Redtail hawk, Marsh hawk, Great blue heron, Whistling Swan and of the Snow goose. These birds are common here, found in the nearby forests and open wetland systems of Big Valley. As I bound the feathers, I picked up on the sound of a Song…..vibrations of tone and pitch. As if my friend’s ancestors had begun to Sing him Home….I certainly hope so….

My prayer is for the Eagle to give him Strength and Courage in this Time of Transition and to carry his Spirit to the next realm with ease…. For the Hawk to guard him on his Journey, and for the Whistling Swan to embrace him Grace and Beauty….. all of them bundled to carry his Spirit…. Home.

Of Timeless Motion …

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Simple reflections on a Rocking Chair…

The time has arrived in this household to recycle the over stuffed recliners in the living area. They are no longer comfortable due to their lack of proper spine support … a requirement now with these aging bodies. I have one hardwood rocking chair acquired from my next door neighbor some years ago, but needed another chair to replace my own marshmallow recliner. I remembered an old friend, a rocking chair I purchased when I was expecting my second child. It has been stationed in the screened in porch for decades now.

I went out to look at it and realized that the wood looked parched and dry, in need of a coat of lacquer or something. I softly pulled it onto the front porch to get a better look at it and to clean it with a damp cloth. My oh my, ….

The rocker is now close to 40 years old. I purchased it as an unfinished piece from a Sears and Roebuck catalogue. I remember it arriving in pieces in a box. I had to sand each piece of the rocker by hand, glue the pieces together and put on only one coat of stain to treat the wood and give it a bit of color. I was alone at the time, with a 4-year old daughter in tow and 8 months pregnant. Bearing a child from a failed marriage where neither of us were wanted.

This rocker symbolizes my motherhood, and now my aging. It is one of only a few items I have held in possession for this long length of Life and living…. It has Witnessed the quietness and care of my children, provided comfort and remedy to our tears. Solace in loneliness and playful observance to laughter and tickle fights.

It is a rich metaphor in that it Rocks my World in the form of perpetual motion…rhythmical in the face of Change and the Turning of age and awareness of Self under the stars of a night sky.

It will hold a place of Honor in my home because the rocking motion quiets my soul. It holds the power to provide me with moments of “This-ness”, making me aware of simply Being while I rock. Periods of Time that embrace the resonance of All That Is. Time becomes suspended and all things are held in Balance. A powerful tool with powerful Medicine and provides Blessings, many Blessings…

Of Seahorses and Diving Deep…

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I recently learned that the Seahorse is one of my ruling signs, having been born in the beginning of the month of March . A welcomed seasonal time of rain and of warming soils after the frigid hold of winter. It is the first month of the Roman Calendar due to the arrival of Spring, of Worm moons, and the movement of migrating birds to their northern breeding grounds.

I never had a thought about seahorses. Never. I live deep inland, in a landscape formed by volcanoes, at the edge of the high desert of the Intermountain West. A friend of mine had surprised me with a mailer from the United Kingdom that held a small exoskeleton of a seahorse. A small creature she had found somewhere in a trinket shop, and had given it a safe place in her home for decades.

I had mixed feelings upon opening the package and pulling this small, dried seahorse from its wrapping. It lay small and light in the palm of my hand, and I pondered the meaning of the arrival of this small creature in my Life … after all, it had just traveled across an ocean and thousands of miles over land to reach my opened palm. Sacred Geometry, Holy Synchronicity.

The exoskeleton is exquisite to look at. They are considered a species of fish strictly due to the fact that they breathe through a set of gills, and have an air bladder for ballast in the water. They are found in shallow coastal waters, and due to their limited mobility, lead lives within a small home range. I have learned that they are voracious feeders, mate for the life of the one, have excellent eyesight and are masters of the art of camouflage… intriguing features of such a small creature. It is the male of the species that is impregnated by the female and carries the offspring to term .. they birth thousands of young each year. How crazy is THAT? The seahorse I received is a male.

The symbolic meanings of the seahorse are both intricate and diverse with mystical significance among the Ancient Greeks, Celts, other European seafaring folk and Asians. Their attributes include: Patience, Friendliness, Protection, Inflexibility, Perspective, Generosity/Sharing, High-Perception, Persistence, and Contentment. Wow, what a mix of qualities! They are considered to be a relatively calm, and mild-mannered creature that amble about to roam the seas with patience and contentment.

So what does this little creature offer me? It offers ALL of its attributes to my Journey at this time. A good ally to have nearby while I dive into the depths of Self, of Possibility, of Vision, and the release of my own Medicine in this fragile time of Turning to Heal not just myself, but also our World…..Namaste.

The Healer of Woundedness…..Willow

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I was visiting with some dear friends this past weekend and came upon a massive willow tree in their yard. The tree was huge, a native species that had stood in the floodplain of the creek all of its long life. I took special notice of a gaping wound located at the base of its thick trunk. Her Wound was located just above Her roots, and I reflected on all of the wounds inflicted on Women….from the past to the present. What I saw within the wounds of this magnificent tree, was the greatest potential for healing I have ever observed as an herb-wife in the plant kingdom.

The Willow tree is a potent, potent ally to women. Has been since ancient times. It is associated with the moon, water, the Goddess and all that is feminine. It is a tree of dreaming, intuition and deep emotions. Symbolically it belongs to the beginning of spring, and is directly related to the celebration of “Imbolc” in early springtime. The essential power of the Willow is to teach us about the Feminine, connect us to our feelings and enhances our capacity to dream. She does this to bring our emotions to the surface for healing. My favorite ancient herbalist, Culpeper, says in his Complete Herbal “The moon owns the willow” and it was known as the witches’ tree and the tree of enchantment. The Internet has volumes of information on this subject under “Willow folklore”….

I created this montage to Honor Her Spirit and great capacity for Healing our wounds as Women in this World…..

Lessons from Rosehips….

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The bright red hips of the wild rose are now ready to harvest where I live. There is simply nothing more satisfying than to gather and ingest the wild gifts of Our Mother Gaia…. especially those that come with medicinal blessings. Rose hips are high in vitamin C. Hands down higher than an orange or other citrus fruit, and are known to reduce inflammation, support the immune system, and counter the effects of stress.

To experience the concept of “beauty”, clean a bowl of rosehips. Each rosehip or “haw”, is unique in its shape, color, luster and scent. Only a few have the physical characteristics of perfection or superficial “beauty”. Some are ovate in shape. Others are obovate, falcate, rhomboid, circular, truncate, acuminate and even pyramid shape. The surface of the hip can be smooth and shiny, granular and dull or even have ridges and other characteristics.

The Strength and Gifts of a Rosehip lie deep in Her cells. Her Power, Her gift of Medicine has nothing to do with what she looks like, or the location of Her emergence on a rose bush. Her Medicine is not dependent on the color or blush of the fruit, nor on softness of Her body. Her Medicine rises … deep in Her flesh, in the flavonoids and cellular walls of Her Being, in the sweet stickiness of Her waters.

One’s Personal Medicine, One’s Gifts for Healing in this World have absolutely nothing, NOTHING to do with what you look like, where you were born, or where you live now. It has nothing to do with your age or place in your family tree, or how much money you have or don’t have. Whether you are educated or not …. The Medicine lies deep, deep within the very walls of your Body and the walls of your Spirit. It already exists … and Rises as you extend your hand to this World and to the woundedness you see before your feet. Feed your Medicine the waters of Life, the freshness of Air, the Earth beneath your naked feet. Turn your mind and Spirit toward the Light of Hope and Vision. See to the Fire that lies within your Breast and release yourself to Love …. and bring healing to yourself and to this World ….

Rosehip and Wild Plum Cordial (Syrup) for Colds and Coughs

1 quart of Wild Rosehips
25 Wild plums (Prunus americana)
5 cups of water
1 cup of sugar
Juice of 1 lemon

Clean the rosehips by removing any flower end and the stem. Rinse in a colander under cool water. Slice open and pit 25 Wild plums. Add to the rosehips. Put ½ of the Rosehips and Wild plums into a blender. Add 1.5 cups of hot water and puree for 1 minute. Pour this into a tall 4 quart saucepan. Repeat with the remaking hips and plums.

Add 2 Cups of boiling water to this slurry in the pot…set on medium high heat and boil for 1 minute. Turn off the heat, cover, and let stand for 12 hours to make a strong decoction.

After 12 hours, strain through a cheese cloth, and gently squeeze to get more decoction. Place the strained juice into a pan and add the sugar. Place on medium heat until it boils. Reduce to a simmer and cook for about 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from heat and add the lemon juice.

Pour into hot, sterilized ½ pint jars or jelly jars. Screw on lids and hand tighten, do not torque. Keep in cool, dry storage. Use within 4 months. If you want a longer shelf life, seal using a water bath canning method. This increases shelf life to 18 months. Add 1 to 2 tablespoons to a tea cup and fill with hot, boiling water…..enjoy