Wild Woman: Plugged

Hi Kids! I am now Hooked Up - but I had to change my email address, and am in the throes of trying to figure out how to do that without removing my access to this site - that would be a total bummer! Bear with me kids. I also cant extract my emails sent to my former email address, so anyone who has emailed me since Tuesday morning, I am sad to say I likely cant access them. Please do email me again at - ahem! -

WildWoman2@shaw.ca

Still some moving and setting up to do tomorrow, but it is falling into place so wonderfully. Lori and I and all the dogs are pretty happy! Warren, Lori's fella, arrives soon and after a sumptuous repast will be directed, with screwdriver in hand,  to the four sets of bookshelves needing assembly, plus a cube shelf unit for my office Stuff. (Sometimes, well ALL the time, it's great to be a Girl. When one is an Elderly Girl, the workload drops off significantly, hee hee.)

Now I must figure out what to do about this email situation. Will keep you posted!

Wild Woman: Unplugged!

I am adrift,  disconnected at the old place and wont be hooked up till sometime Thursday at the new place - using my sister's computer at the moment. I will be back in business soon, but currently have no access to my email account. Yoiks! How did I ever live before the internet? No idea! I vaguely remember writing letters, that took a week to get there and a few weeks to receive a reply in response.............Cars went slower then,too. And Time, for that matter.

Till Thursday,  be well, stay happy, and I cant wait to read your new poems!

Justice

["The earth rests in outstretched hands"

from 123rf.com]

I read

something

the other day

about

what it is

to do

something,

anything,

whatever one can,

to try to ease

the pain

of the suffering.

That it isn't

about pity.

It isn't even

- or only -

about compassion.

It's about

justice.

That really resonated with me, given the inequities and degrees of suffering all over this planet.

Justice. That word also brings a smile, as it reminds me of the time my grandkids were having supper at my place when the youngest was around seven years old. I was proudly wearing my Amnesty International t-shirt, which said "A Cry for Justice" on the front.

I noticed him looking at me wonderingly for a few minutes, then he asked me, "Grandma,

what does that mean: a cry for "Just ice"?

I cracked up - there is a long history of alcoholism in my family, and I could just see them in a line going back through all the years, holding up their empty glasses, rattling the ice cubes expectantly.

I told the people at Amnesty International that story and they said it made their day:)



Wild Woman Does Battle

[image from google]

Wild Woman

arrives

at a hobble

to do

serious battle

with  the

Iris Bed.

"Oh, woe is I!"

she mutters,

at the shocking sight.

The tangle of weeds

is higher

than  the

fair Iris's head.

Errant fattened

Dangerously Prickly

blackberry vines

and assorted mayhem

proclaim

Serious Neglect

has long overtaken

the hidden blooms.

And, most frightening

of all,

the Fair Iris

is having the life

choked out of her

by the hideous,

tightly twining

Horrible Ivy,

whose death grip

around Iris's throat

is so tight

Iris can only utter

a faint, desperate

"gleep, gleep",

which Wild Woman

translates as

"Hurry! Hurry!"

Wild Woman hoves to:

At great personal risk,

she steps bravely

into the tangled thorny patch.

She clips,

she mutters,

she heaves.

A satisfying

pile of debris

forms a mountain

of limp expired weeds

and thorny vanquished

branches

behind her.

But!

when she is done,

the Fair Iris

stands proud and tall,

evidence of Persevering

Midst Completely

Untenable Conditions.

She takes her first

deep breaths.

She sways and preens.

She is

Free At Last!

Liberation has

likely never

felt so sweet.

And Wild Woman?

her back

fairly shrieking

in protest,

quietly

hobbles away.

Wild Woman's New Front Door

Cute, hey? The word on my Peace Rock is pretty faint - it needs a new coat of paint, and that's on the to do list, but I am pretty stoked at how cute this all is. This morning I was remembering my Grandma's sweet peas, so aromatic, especially of a summer evening, so I stopped by Colyn's nursery and picked up some starter plants and thunked them in with the clematis, hoping they'll take hold and cohabit pleasantly.

The clematis survived its traumatic move across the road far better than did the three people it took to heave it over. It is much happier in that spot, where it gets the morning sun and lots of attention. The rose bush off to the side reached out a claw and poked me on my way out of the nursery, so she came home too. She needs her own spot, but for now will sit there in her pot.

I plan to plant some tubs and pots once I get settled in. I love having growing things on my porches. And when I have time, there is a lot of weeding and trimming that can be done around Lori's yard. A bit at a time.

I can feel how ready I am for a change. It will be nice living in a house again, after a couple of decades in trailers. I have loved my trailers, but they both needed a ton of work and upkeep. The suite will be easier by far. And cheaper.Yay!

The hummers are going crazy just now, on my front porch and my sister's side porch. The blossoms on the bushes have fallen off, and the hummers are desperate for sweetness. I will maintain their feeder here after I move, as they are used to it. And I bought a new  spiffy glass feeder for across the street - will hang that this afternoon for the little critters.

Monday my sister and I are going to Costco in Nanaimo - highly exciting! - to pick up a few things. Ms. Jasmine is getting a new dog bed. Like this one:

Is that a dog bed, or what? Maybe I can convince her it's a couch, so she'll stop trying to sneak up on mine. It will take up a lot of space in my one big  room. But she loves her bed, and she may as well have a really good one.

I have on my mind that my iris beds have disappeared under a ton of weeds and strangling vines, and that I need to rescue them. I am going to maintain them here till fall, and then plant them over somewhere by the pond.  So I need to get out there - tonight and tomorrow - and uncover them. I see a couple of purple heads poking up thru the tangles, saying: "Help me!"

Help is on the way!

Summer Mornings

[image from google]

Blue skies

with perfect puffy clouds,

dark green river

teeming with

salmon,

lazy Saturday morning

watching hummingbirds

flock to the

feeder,

Jasmine chasing her tail

in bemused quest......

Wild Woman

remembers

late-June mornings

when she was a child,

waking to the

rattle of water

hitting the

bedroom wall,

as Grandma

hosed everything down

against the

coming heat,

lowering the

canvas awnings

over the

front windows,

like two

sleepy eyelids;

air fresh with

lake-scent and bullrushes,

weeping willow

and sweet pea,

that special scent from

her childhood

she can still

sometimes catch

on summer mornings,

that takes her back

to when

the world

was young.

Saturday morning,

right here

      right now......

a perfect slice

of time

that must be savored,

for tomorrow

it will be

gone.

Wild Woman

is in love

with summer

mornings.

The Wild Woman on Love

[Hallmark's Maxine created by John Wagner]

Wild Woman

spent the first

half of her life

believing

her prince

would come.

She spent the second

half of her life

processing

her disappointment

over who

showed up

instead.

Wild Woman,

in theory,

still believes

in love.

She has read about it,

watched movies,

has happily paired

friends.

The question is:

is it foolish

to believe

it is

still possible?

If he

showed up now,

he'd be

just in time

to buy her

a new set of teeth.

Is it tender

or traumatic

to picture

glasses full of

dentures

on both sides

of the bed?

Is love

big enough

to weather

facial hair

on the

wrong gender?

Does she

really need

someone to

help her

get her coat on

right-side up,

and remember the

name and plot

of last night's movie?

Can hearts

and walkers

intertwine

without calamity?

Not to

mention

bodies,

and the attendant

danger

of serious injury.

Is that a gleam

she sometimes sees

in old men's eyes

      as she passes........

or cataracts?

Does she

qualify

for a

two for the price

of one

coupon

for one hundred solid years

of Believing in Love?

What is the

Return policy,

if it is

a big mistake?

Isn't it

a hoot

that

the cars

she used to

go out

on dates in

are now antiques,

and she's still

thinking about

Mr. Right?

Is it best

to accept

that watching a

love story

on her big screen tv

is actually

far more restful

and enjoyable

than actually

living one?

Wild Woman is

too tired

for angst.

Wild Woman

took so long

to figure herself out,

she has long

since passed

her Best Before date.

Sigh.

"Too soon old,

too late smart."

Wild Woman On the Move

Wild Woman

signs on the

dotted line,

and says goodbye

to another

little home.

It has served her well.

It was her refuge,

her sanctuary,

her safe place,

her hermit hideaway.

It was her

wolf-pup's

kingdom,

where he

was lord

and ruler

of all

he surveyed.

Life is

all about

saying goodbye.

It teaches us

over and over

how to

Let Go.

There isnt

a whole lot

that

we get

to keep.

Wild Woman

long ago

learned

to Listen

to her inner guidance,

hear what it says,

and then trust it

will take her

where she's

meant to go.

Next week,

Wild Woman

will close

the front door

for the very last time.

She will hobble

across the road

with her

boxes full

of too many books.

She will plant

her Peace Rock

at the foot

of a new

set of stairs.

She will begin

to feather

a much smaller nest.

She is

Going With the Flow.

In life,

there are some

Necessary Losses.

With the right spirit,

they can

be turned

into Gifts.

On Inanimate Objects

[John Wagner is the creator of Hallmark's Maxine]

Wild Woman

is so tired

she feels like

an inanimate

object.

She needs

to move,

but her body

won't go.

She needs to pack,

but her hands

are two clay bowls,

too heavy

for scooping.

She needs

inspiration,

but her brain

has

retired

for the evening.

What to do

with this

large

unwieldy

unwilling

and

cumbersome

Lump?

Stick her

in a corner

and pray

she comes to

by morning.

A Poem from Rumi

Who Says Words With My Mouth?





All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and
what am I supposed to be doing?


I have no idea.


My soul is from elsewhere,
I'm sure of that,
and I intend to end up there.


This drunkenness began in some other tavern.
When I get back around to that place,
I'll be completely sober. Meanwhile,
I'm like a bird from another continent,
sitting in this aviary.


The day is coming when I fly off,
but who is it now in my ear
who hears my voice?
Who says words with my mouth?


Who looks out with my eyes?
What is the soul?
I cannot stop asking.


If I could taste one sip of an answer,
I could break out of this prison for drunks.
I didn't come here of my own accord,
and I can't leave that way.


Whoever brought me here will have to take me home.


This poetry, I never know what I'm going to say.
I don't plan it.
When I'm outside the saying of it,
I get very quiet and rarely speak at all.

-Rumi

The Pathway of the Heart

[image from google]

Listening

to the stories

of the world

is the route

to compassion,

the pathway

of the heart.

Followed by

action,

compassion

then

becomes

a prayer.

****

"History, like God,

is watching what we do."

Bono, on the AIDS pandemic

Shapeshifting

[image from crystalink.com]

Wild Woman

is sprouting

a black

moustache.

She covers it

with her hand

but!

coarse

black hairs

are also growing

on her knuckles.

A thick black coat

is burgeoning

 on her back,

 a long curved

sweeping tail

rising atop

her hips

like a slice

of moon

hanging over

the mountain.

Her extremities

are turning

into paws.

She drops

onto all fours,

takes a

quick look

over her shoulder,

then:

quick!

lopes along

the trail

into the forest,

away from

human sight.

She curls up

in the root bowl

of Grandmother Cedar,

tucks her nose

under her front paw,

heaves a tired

sigh.

Home.

Wild Woman Needs a Nap!

[image from google: public domain]

Wild Woman

feels

as tired

as an

old brittle leaf

hanging desperately

onto

the last twig

of winter.

Soon,

she will

let go,

drift down

onto a

nice, soft

leafy bed

and take

a prodigious

Nap!

The daily posting from the Power Path School of Shamanism, in my inbox this morning, reads:

"Summer solstice is Tuesday, June 21 at 11:16 AM Mountain Daylight Time. A good time to vision what you wish for yourself in the future. By this time your patterns should be sufficiently shaken up to allow for some clarity in a new direction or at least in a realignment of how you are currently playing out your life. Do some intention work, visioning, sharing, celebrating, practicing gratitude, working with the sun and the earth, and having some fun. Enjoy the chaos and the creativity and the innovation and the inspiration and the resilience of the collective and your personal part in the experience of life on this planet. If you feel altered and unsettled, get used to it. Have fun anyway!"

Well, all righty, then! I will "get used to it" and even have some fun. I expect there will be a lot of cackling next week as this turtle moves her shell across the street. I have purged a ton of Stuff, but that still leaves hundreds and hundreds of books to be re-housed. I cannot purge books!

In my re-visioning, I must purge Struggle, for I have had enough of that. A new era dawns: writing, resting, and Being, in love with the natural world. Sounds good to me!

You can check out the School of Shamanism at http://www.thepowerpath.com/

Dark Energy

[image from google]

My friend, Jeane Manning at changingpower.net has devoted her life to the cause of clean energy. On her site today, I just read about a universal background energy some call dark energy - the life force energy in the atmosphere - that is decreasing, and is now less available as a buffer for the earth.

She cites a friend who is a nuclear physicist, who is in touch with other researchers, as well as some online sources. They link this decrease to emmissions from nuclear power plants which have been affecting the atmosphere.

She writes  "Bottom line is as early as mid-2012, declining dark energy levels will be insufficient to buffer and stabilize the Earth’s magnetic field; and solar output will become erratic by that time, as well.”

Her sources state humanity and other life forms will need protection from solar radiation and charged particles that will be bombarding earth's surface as soon as mid-2012.

Yikes.

The good news, her friend writes, is that "Our future is up to us as a collective consciousness."

The bad news is that "Our future is up to us as a collective consciousness."

Ghost Shadow

My boy Pup, at the river

You pad

soft and silent

through my dreams.

Your spirit comes

to me,

some mornings,

and you

rest your nose

on the side

of my bed,

and whuff,

as you used to do,

to wake me,

all the mornings

of your life.

Your absence

is a Presence

in my every

waking hour.

Your footsteps

will walk

forever

in my heart.

Mystery of the White Lions

Kids, This is one of the most rivetting books I've read for a long time. Linda Tucker, who lives in South Africa,  documents her journey into the mysteries of the legendary White Lions of Africa.

As the book jacket explains,  "After being rescued from a life-threatening encounter with lions in the Timbavati game region by the medicine woman known as the "Lion Queen", Linda delved into the mysteries of the white lions, a genetic rarity occurring only in the Timbavati. Today White Lions - hand-reared and held captive - are trophy-hunted within enclosures for huge sums of money."

By contrast, shamans believe that killing a "lion sun god" is sacrilege. After reading this book, you will agree with them.

Here are a few excerpts from the book:

"Legends of the [white lions'] existence lie deep in the ancestral memories of African shamans.

"In contrast to the conventional view ...which maintains that the aberrant white gene is a random mutation of no consequence...shamanic wisdom views the White Lions as the highest form of enlightenment bearer or teacher......a unique strain in and of themselves....symbolic custodians of a message specifically intended for humankind at this particular time."

[This reminds me of the First Nations' prophecies and legends about the White Buffalo Calf Woman, also seen as appearing as a message to humankind. A white buffalo calf called Miracle was born in the Canadian Prairies in 1994.]

Linda studied with shaman Credo Mutwa, who relayed the "extraordinary tale of  Timbavati's White Lions according to the Great Knowledge."

Legend tells of "a star that fell to earth", and how "many years later all animals that stayed in the area where the strange object  had settled on the ground  were giving birth to white offspring....The people saw herds of antelope, impala and eland which were snow white with blue eyes......And a pride of lions had moved into the area where the strange star  had come down from the sky and it was observed that they too started giving birth to white offspring with blue eyes."

The shaman, Credo Mutwa, told Linda, "We live in prophetic times, ma'am - the White Lions have returned recently as prophets of this new age......[they] are very old beings, as old as life itself."

The white lions had disappeared from Timbavati, but if two lions, each one carrying the mutated gene, have offspring, white lions may still be born. There are two places on the planet where white lions are now held in captivity - a preserve in the United States, and the horrifying enclave where they are trophy hunted while captive, in Africa.

After Linda had studied with Credo Mutwa, the shaman, for some time, he revealed, "The White Lions guard a secret, ma'am...A secret which can save humankind."

"Are we in need of saving, Credo," [Linda] asked.

"Desperately, ma'am, and time is short."

Credo Mutwa gave this speech, which Linda reports in the book:

Behind me are the holiest animals in Africa: the White Lions of Timbavati. Our people believe that if these beasts vanish from the land....the whole of Africa will cease to exist.

These animals are said to herald coming changes on the earth........These creatures ought to be preserved and protected, and the reason they are born of this color should be investigated. Africa has lost much of what is important and beautiful, through indifference, racism, and religious fanaticism......It is said that at the end of the world, a White Lion will roar for the last time - heralding the disappearance of the sun from the sky for all time.

The White Lions of Timbavati...must not be allowed to vanish from the pages of our country's history. I cannot say more.

Midway through the book, as the author studies more deeply with the shaman, we get into astronomy, ancient wisdom, cave drawings, our relation to the stars. Eg.: "The Great Knowledge maintains that the souls of kings assume lion identities and become astral bodies after death."

I know. It's pretty Out There, but while I was reading it, it all made perfect sense to me. There is a lot more going on than our minds can grasp, and I'm open to a Bigger Picture, even when (especially when!) someone starts scribbling outside the lines:)

Linda writes, "Whether or not there is a future for human life on this planet, I believe, is dependent at this evolutionary moment upon humankind's consciousness-raising powers as a species. As guardians of the soul essence of humankind, the White Lions offer us entrance into other dimensions. In partcular...into what is known in spirit sources as the fifth dimension of the spiritual evolution of the soul....I believe that what seems paranormal to us now will, in time, become perfectly normal - if we are brave enough to take the path of spiritual evolution of the human soul.

This is Ingwavuma, a lion Linda loved, whom she called "my lion", a lion who appeared in her dreams. She believed he was carrying the white gene, thus holding part of the future of the White Lions of Timbavati. This is what happened to him:

"On 22 August 2000, Ingwavuma was hunted as a trophy.....I remember a night full of distressing dreams.......Following the search and failure to find him [Ingwavuma], the annual Timbavati quota was used up on an unknown male. But the previous year's quota remained.....Ingwavuma returned to his kingdom, where he was shot. The picture I received was of him walking right up to the trophy hunters, proudly and defiantly, offering humankind a choice. And they paid $35,000 for the pleasure of killing him.

"He died in the late afternoon as the sun set over Timbavati, on the last day of the month of Leo at the turn of the millenium. The shot was fired shortly before 6 p.m.  From my studies in ancient astrology,  I could now determine that, on this day, and this day only, at this very time, the setting sun was in perfect alignment with Regulus, the heart star of the Leo constellation. ...Mutwa...pinpoint[s] the unique moment when the sun passes through Regulus as symbolizing the birth, or death, of a lion king. And, consequently, with the birth or death of a kingdom on earth.......Ingwavuma's relevance as a star beast was written across the heavens. As for me, I had lost my guardian angel, the golden lion with invisible wings who was meant to father the future Star Lions of Timbavati."

Linda continues:

"Because shamans can cross the threshold between this world and the spirit world, death itself is not the issue......We will all die sooner or later. The question is: what will happen to our souls? ....I know that Ingwavuma has not died. He still exists. He still guides me from the spirit world........[and] a human soul has died in killing him.

"....if we sell our souls, we are lost souls. If we sell ourselves to darkness, not enlightenment, we will exist in eternal darkness. If we kill the sun god, we kill the sun in our lives, and our souls will die with the dying sun.

"I know that several of the cubs sired by Ingwavuma live on in Timbavati. Some of them are surprisingly light in color. There are a couple that have green eyes. I believe this signifies that they bear the white gene. I believe the White Lions will one day return to.....Timbavati. However, I do not believe they will show themselves again until human consciousness is ready to be uplifted......."

(I'm ready to be uplifted. How about you?)

"We all know what is needed. We need to protect the White Lions, as we need to protect all forms of life on our planet........we need to....start waking up. Until we align ourselves with the forces of..... light energy....we are aligning ourselves with darkness. Until we reinstate the....divine principles of balance and harmony, in accordance with the natural laws of the sun, we are inevitably plunging ourselves into appalling upheaval and chaos........there are two truths we should never forget in our quest for golden enlightenment. The lion is the symbol of the soul essence of humankind. And the soul is eternal.

This is the author with Marah, whom she met while the cub was held in captivity in a canned hunters' camp.

Publisher's update: In 2002, Linda Tucker formed the Global White Lion Protection Trust to protect the white lions, who are still under threat from trophy hunters........the Trust fought a battle for guardianship of Marah (above). During the legal battle, Marah gave birth to three snow-white cubs. Through legal action, the Trust ensured Marah would be able to raise her cubs herself, without human handling or imprinting, vital for their rewilding process.

The legal battle won, the lions were removed from captivity and taken to  safety in the Karoo mountain lands. Then Linda pursued acquiring tracts of land in the lions' ancestral home of Timbavati. She was committed to returning them to their natural heritage.

Only weeks after being returned to the wild, Marah returned to hunting and providing for her cubs herself. The day after Marah and her cubs were returned to the wild in 2005, instances of white lion births began to be reported in the Timbavati area. 

Linda now lives in this protected area, with her two prides, roaming free in their natural habitat.

More info is available at http://www.whitelions.org/ and http://www.instituteofsacredactivism.org/

Wild Woman, In the Corner of Her Eye......

[image from google]

Wild Woman,

sitting ringside

at barrel racing,

sees something

soaring

in the corner

of her eye.

"Was that an eagle?"

she asks,

"Or a hawk?

Or........one of those

'floaties'

I get

on the periphery

of my vision?"

Her sister

smiles.

"It is

whatever

you want it

to be,"

she replies.

"Cool!

It's an eagle!"

On Native Land

[image from Google]

Okay, I'm sorry, I have to say something. On the news just now, a cheery announcer chirps: "We celebrate today that, as of midnight, last night, First Nations people now have the same human rights as every other Canadian."

Huh??? And it's only 2011?

Instead of celebrating, these words make me want to crawl on my belly and apologize to the First Nations community, here thousands of years before the rest of us arrived, for what they have endured, as a people, during all that time. Celebrate a long overdue granting of "the same human rights"? Which indicates an unspoken apartheid in Canada?

When I invesitage further, it appears that what this means is that, as of midnight last night, First Nations living on reserve can now challenge their band councils if they feel they are being discriminated against. Or they can appeal to the Canadian Human Rights Commission over inequities on reserve.

Okay, that is a good thing. Many First Nations live in third world conditions on reserve, while some band councils appropriate inequitable portions of allocated funds.

I just choked a little over the celebratory tones and the wording over human rights each Canadian should have had before the law all along.

I have calmed myself down now. I so love the First Nations people and their beautiful culture. I get as wired as Crazy Horse over the long overdue granting of "basic human rights" to our beautiful First People.