Master intricate knots. Trout flies, for example. Especially in your dreams.
Be astounded by what any feather can do.
~*~
Mice, even snakes, leave their tracks in the dust.
Follow them, to their hideaway.
Knock at the entrance and enter.
Come home, explaining, “Last night my mind blossomed.”
~*~
Pulling into the barnyard, I find another paradox of spiritual discipline: the practitioner becomes simultaneously rooted in flight.
~*~
By now, I’ve been away so long I no longer feel the memory.
How large was that spider?
If we had looked at each other, I would have seen. I was free to go home, even if it took another forty years to get here. March straight into that horizon? And then?
~*~
In cloud wisps two soaring ravens turn about.
They wheel from great land in the sky.
The black rings under my eyes are gone.
~*~
For more insights from the American Far West and Kokopelli, click here.
Jnana's Red Barn 