A to Z: Into the Wild

Trying to fit back into the challenge 
with I for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

I is for Into the Wild


When Christopher McCandless walked into the wilderness, his odyssey was for so many of us. 

"Society"

It's a mystery to me
we have a greed
with which we have agreed

You think you have to want
more than you need
until you have it all you won't be free

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me

When you want more than you have
you think you need
and when you think more than you want
your thoughts begin to bleed

I think I need to find a bigger place
'cos when you have more than you think
you need more space

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

There's those thinking, more or less, less is more
but if less is more how you're keeping score?
Means for every point you make
your level drops
Kinda like it's starting from the top
You can't do that...

Society, you're a crazy breed
I hope you're not lonely without me
Society, crazy and deep
I hope you're not lonely without me

Society, have mercy on me
Hope you're not angry if I disagree
Society, crazy indeed
I hope you're not lonely without me

Sunday Scribblings: Treat and A to Z: Heal

H for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.
                                     and
This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is treat.      

H is for Heal               

The rain is petal and fur

I stick to your skin

Where your smell is silvery and loose

Your mouth is blood and your lip is real

I crawled out of wing to see

Your lust is pale

Cumming away

from most things that are moonly

this one is under the sea

I like it when I am with you

I like your snow

underneath my wave

When you leave me still

the air breaks and spills

I stay to eat pieces of the Ocean

You wear the water when you walk away

I eat my heart

I wait to heal

The moon is cold, my blood dry

I lick your wet laughter off of my skin

I wait to heal.


After an evening of e.e. cummings. I love him. How about you?

A to Z:Govinda

The letter G for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

G is for Govinda

Each baby arrived early, but never in this lucid way. The boys, ever so ready to tread their way about, could not be late. More so than his brothers, hungry little Govinda, beckoned by an autumn sky, embraced a graceful yet sudden welcome. Little did I know, he would not wait for a dim-lite night.

I was asked by my mid-wives to consume a healthy dose of Vitamin C, for he had ruptured the first seal early. Off to the Co-Op we went, all the while, Govinda(who we referred to as Shani, of the Navagraha, then) breaking his way through blood and womb. Allowing my senses to fall from reality, an endearing acceptance of pain I had willingly developed by the forth pregnancy, I paraded on.

Waddling from aisle to aisle and back home took quite a while. A ridiculously bumpy ride in Hildagard, our Volkswagen bus, was the escape Govinda anticipated. Under the light of the golden sphere, my flesh, quickly becoming a servant to pain. An invitation from the night's sky, Govinda would leave his cloudy ocean behind to devour a hearty brew of oxygen and hue. Senselessly drunk on a melange of milky midnight, mother, and moon.

I nudged him to stay and swim a bit longer, not knowing that his blood belonged to the moon. And Mani must have his way!

So, there he came under the glittering ball in the sky. I closed my eyes, painfully shut, accepting his mulberry bottom in my right palm. And in that moment, I was immediately conscious of who he was,
the one who brought the  glow.

His papa insisted on holding him bare under the Samhain sky, listening to Autumn's cry. I watched and danced against cold concrete on achy nude feet. Aaron, always humming a whisper to Jah when his newest son is born; Govinda, a silent Hare; me, accepting the shallow howl from a distant breeze; the Full Moon, placing a spell: every twenty-eight days, the moon-thirsty boy and his herd of the many who are hungry and free, must come out and play.

Dance in the light of the Moon, Govinda Hare!

Another baby story with the letter 'J'.

A to Z: Fairy Friendly Garden

F for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

F is for Fairy Garden

Traditionally, in our home a miniature garden full of fairy pleasure comes to light every Spring. 

The children here know to step lightly over the Otherworld.

They know that crafting a garden for the "wee folk" will leave them with an abundance of friendship all year.

What better reason is there?

Occasionally, they leave treasures.

Last year, being one of the busiest of years for our family, our enchanted garden rose out of simple care.

We had pansies for love.

Poppies to bring them into our dreams.

The children ate thyme, this is when they make claims of seeing the little creatures.

I kept a pot of thyme near our front door, as an invitation for them to come in. 

We had curly chives, gray-leaved sage, and creeping mint. 

A neighbor came by with lily of the valley.
We planted lavender, lemon-scented geraniums, primrose, and forget-me-nots.
The children left out pieces of bread, cookies, and cake. Of course they were devoured by morning.
We danced over rose petals, asking for blessing and hoping to share in their magic.

In the end, abundence was gifted.

A teensy-weensy forest for Lilliputian play.

Mary the Kitten, who also waits for treasure. 

She belonged to a grandmother, who is part of the spirit world now.

Plates that we leave out, for the ones that use their wings.

Stomping feet that little creatures must watch out for. 

A bushel of bachelors, suspended in thin air.

Even my tinniest of 'fairies' know to hide in here. 

When we know that they have made their way!

Goals for this year:
More furniture, garden parasols, gates and trails, and sticks and structures.
A burning of heather to connect the gates between our worlds.
Perhaps an offering on Beltane eve for Summer Solstice.

Do you have any goals to bring the good little folk your way this year?

A to Z: Early

The fifth letter for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

E is for Early

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sand to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

It was inside of The Outsiders where I discovered Robert Frost. He is golden. Maybe there was no other reason to read S. E. Hinton's novel, but at the age of twelve I was charmed by Ponyboy and Sodapop.

For Poetry Day, which fell on Valentine's Day-properly, at the children's school, they were to recite a poem, written or chosen. With the oldest, everything involves humor(something about nose picking that Shel composed). The second oldest is softer. I shared with him a number of Robert Frost poems. He chose the most golden.

More on both boys and their comedy and gentle ways in a post closer to the end of the alphabet.

A to Z: Devotion

The letter D for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

D is for Devotion

When we lived between Hinchman Way and Laguna Creek, near us was a woman named Arthi, who knew herself as Susan, who we referred to as Aji, not that she was my father's mother. My mother and father worked two jobs each and Susan Aji collected our books with us from class and walked us home.

She was a woman of God and commonly followed His will. She spoke of His name and uttered His stories. You might think that a grandmother type would give two impressionable girls many gifts. She gave us one. His holy book. 

In her company, we were reminded of perfection and harmonious order. That the disorder of today was not caused by Him, but by His earliest people. The ability to defy and resist is that of only one kind-humankind. We were introduced to the fall. Rebellion, mercy, atonement. She colored us with the rainbow in the sky, His promise that He would never again let loose the waters.

In the sky, He dies.

In our own home, the pundit was present, as though he shared blood. My father would organize a puja for every occasion. With the purest of hearts, my sister and I would engage in every superstitious ritual.

Then, I thought it to be cultural duty, today I know it to be my own pagan will.

Susan Aji was never present for our puja nor our sparklers at Deepavali.

On Sundays she borrowed us early. We learned apostolic stories. Wednesday evenings when my father was  sure to work late, arriving at an odd hour, to tired to question the evenings occurrence, Aji would bring anxious women from the church to read to my mother. My mother, she would wear her om around her neck and a splendor of sindoor at the height of her forehead as she held onto her gift, listened, and struggled to understand.

We are an accepting people, where god has more than one name, yet he sits at the core of our hearts, just as any other people. We are men and women of flesh and blood, beholden to wind and water. Fate speaks to us, like a fish who is hooked at sea.

Our stories are the same.



*Aji-grandmother
*pundit-priest
*puja-religious ritual
*Deepavali-"festival of lights"
*om-sacred symbol
*sindoor-holy powder, signifies marriage 
  

A to Z: Cri de Coeur

The third letter for the Blogging from A to Z Challenge.

C is for Cry

Cri de Coeur

Our Universe 

with its blood so blue

cries to hold on to its heart.