Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Seeking The Void Springtime Awaits

 Spring Yoga Retreat was powerful and healing. Women came with open and more. Never have I experienced such immediate acceptance among strangers. We knew each other already, in the wind, in our sisterhood and we knew it. no one had to tell us. We just knew it.

Enter...The Cave, rebirth, connection, songs and growth (cold, sore hineys for us oldsters!)
Spirit Of The Wind 

Spirit of the wind carry me.
Spirit of the wind carry me home.
Spirit of the wind carry me home to myself.

Spirit of the Earth, help me with my birth.
Spirit of the sea, set my soul free.
Spirit of the wind, carry me home to myself...
This post may be interesting only to those who are drawn. My babblings pour forth. Warnings to wear mind protective gear, just assumed. No wavers to sign. Go forth at your own risk, take nothing literally and be careful, as you may encounter yourself along the way if you choose to sally forth (Utah Phillips talk).    

Healers...Powerful ritual, a blessing to be near


Shape shifting trickster, Healing fore bearer of death. Raven, feathers shiny, iridescent with tinges of indigo, shades of mauve and hints of twilight when the sunlight moves it’s rays just so along your back.

King of the corvus family, wise one, oh Raven, pecking at the door. What have you to say you stoic one fervently cawing on the porch with your mate in waiting on an oak branch not far from your destruction?

What message have you to pass on this day, to an open heart that needs to hear? The heart was closed to your gift, but unfolds now like a crumpled poem on paper mistaken for rubbish and pulled out before being tossed into the fire. Speak clearly now and spare the screen.

Raven so black, put aside your foolish tricks, your ways of evil, and your magic. Bring forth your wisdom, oh healing one and share today to a heart in need. With great care you are sought, only because you came, so bring forth oh Raven with your message today. Bring forth…oh Raven…with your message today~ then oh Raven, please fly away…

~J~moonmango          Linda Long inspired…The "Long" Journey …..


LISTEN TO THE WORDS, then, with all abandon, wear it out like a three year old would do, then JUMP!

Lost In My Journey

Trying to walk, forced to fly, Trees below, surrounded by sky

                                            Souring downward amongst blobs and unidentifiable shapes

                    surrounded by golden warriors,

Bows shoot golden flaming arrows into the sky

                                 Sparkling golden sky surrounds the landscape

          A girl reaching for my hand, slips from my clasp

                                                                                           Her blue eyes tell me I’m loosing myself

                                               Lost, like Alice down the rabbit hole

                    Lost in my journey, falling from my own grasp

                                                             The drums beat, a voice directs, “look for your guide, you’ll know it”

    Misshapen blobs of color and light~ No Owl in sight

                                 A single white moccasin leads to brown unidentifiable something

                 Not a bear, not a human, an impalpable mass

                                                             An opening chest beating a volcanic heart, spewing fire and ash

               Darkness overtakes, now I’m gone. Gone to the middle world without myself

Lost in my journey, with Bookmiss for my guide.

                                                                                  Wonder what I did there, while my body stayed behind?

            Drums beating, calling me home. I try to go down as I’m already up

                                    Soaring upwards again, can’t go down, higher and higher above solid ground

                                                                               Sky so blue with sparkles of gold, homeward I fly, landing somewhere up high.

Quivering, not like the angry volcano of October, but an essence of such from a whisper of another place.
Bookmiss Nootka Island Friendly Cove

Oh Mother, hear us calling
we your children seek healing
Oh Mother hear us calling...



Kitchen Goddess


  When I get through this leg of the journey, My Backyard will 
once again don visions of nature...still babblings I'm afraid!

Every so often, you have to stop. Stop it all to get a foot hold.

Carrying on without getting a foothold could be dangerous.

Clamp on to something, look carefully, and either get a grip, or 
just jump!

 Into The Void…Journey Home ~ To Myself

                                     There’s no blacker black than Raven’s back

           My Sisters prodder, not here for me, stopping anyway

                                  “you too, listen here,  pay attention here I say”

            Lost in a black place, no memory to boot, not even Owl to give a hoot

                                   Bookmiss isn’t a comfort, repulsive indeed, Leaving me to wonder, doubt… need

             Mauvey light, darkness calling. “No way” I say, I’m fearful of falling

                                    Shapes & figures, generations to come, call, beckon, “we are one”

                                              No choice now, I must choose, for them & myself, to go forth, to move

                                                            Black hole opens, closes again, wider each time, again, again

                                            A poem written in, High School, remembering…”As Darkness overtakes me”

                                 Memory gone, it’s been too long…

                     The heart beat quickens, then wanes, slowing and stopping, quickening again

Gotta hurry, time’s running out, rushing, can’t, too much doubt

Thump, thump, thump, thu, thump… journey’s over, Have to go back, thum, thu, thump

                                                        Journey’s over, have to go back…

Breathing deeply, gone again. Never even knew it. halfway into a sentence, back

Back from black, Raven’s back, blacker than black

                                      The void took me, no memory at all. Took me, a fall.   

“and daylight falls behind” memory coming…

Into the void I must go, I know this now.

                    ………Leave daylight behind,  I know this now.

Somehow in High school, I knew it then

                                                                     ~Went forth out ward, coming back in again.

Absence of light, blacker than Raven… the void

Leave daylight behind, meet myself in the void

Journey home into the void, the void #   leave the light, go to the void

home to myself, home to the void, Darkness overtakes me and daylight falls behind

I knew it then, went forth outward, coming back in again

Journeying home, into the void… Home to Meet myself…

~J~moonmango                                                                     4/18/2012

If I survive the journey, I'll dance naked in the woods!

Lost half my post somehow, so patching it up from here. Bummer. Pictures, muses from the offset side, all...poof! Into the void! Maybe I'll find them there.

Seeking Spring

It matters why I'm not embracing Spring this year. Matters because I'm at the crossroads, the void calling, like Jesus has to me before. Becoming audible like that, but just a pounding whisper so far. Pounding like the beat of a heart.

Wildflowers~ wait…why can’t I go?
The Wild flower is ~me~ in the garden
The void sets me free
Fire and ash
Men live in the void,
Women must embrace…or depend,
depend on that which is tangible
Fails to bring peace, strength & passion
Wait for this wood nymph
If the fires too hot, left unattended
The milk scalds, boils over
“you’ll lose your dinner, gotta keep it to a simmer”
Wait for this wood nymph< this time Spring
Wait…the void will bring me ~
Light to dark, emerge again to light
Absence of Fall & Winter& Spring
Can’t exist, Winters death= beginning or middle?
Exhausting into Summer ~~~begin again
Leave this child to jump
Black the Raven knows, says “go back to be born into life”
The wildflowers wait,,,paused,,,~this one~ goes

Things that are missing..didn’t write the colors today~Shapes, light, reflections, the marmot in the hole.

~J~moonmango                                  4/18/2012

Spank your dragon...

The Dream Weaver and The Poet                    2                   1/7/2012

(to go with the Dream Weaves, the short version, still too long...)
On a blue moon night, a Weaver wove a Dream and a Poet wrote a Poem.

The dream was woven by hook with silk of gold, trailing with threads of silver, draped upon shoulders broad… soft as a finely finished shelf of Madrone, a storm threaded in with glints of colored glass to catch the light, letting it in, letting it out and reflecting the dream into a soul.

The poem was written with longing and passion, touches of blue sky, mosses, lichen and earth were used as ink and the pages were the clouds from which she fell. Tears of fairies and essence of mango were written into the poem and each page flowed with a longing for the poems dream.   

The Weaver didn’t know why her eyes wouldn’t leave the Poet alone, but her lips followed. “Dance with me?” said the Poet. “Lay with me?” said the Weaver and she took him home to her bed of moss and lay his head on her pillows of woven shooting stars . The Weaver and The Poet shared some dreams, their hearts met each other, but still they didn’t know each other. The moon was full of light and touched them both deeply. The Weaver never forgot Her Poet still not knowing who he was, and the Poet kept his Weaver in the back of his soul and a breath of her in his heart.

The next time their hearts spoke, the Dream glistened like the moon herself and it’s storm passed through the valleys of the weavers heart in such a way that they began to know each other, but their dreams disappeared.  “Give me back my dreams, I want my dreams back” said the Poet to the Weaver.

Captivator Of Dream

Anticipating sharing the morning light together
                dreaming again. stealer of my dreams

Anticipating sharing the morning light together
                waking up in heaven
                after giving all my dreams back

The Weaver responded,

“You'll have your dreams back, my Sweetness and Light. You'll have yours and I'll have mine. I'll sit on the bottom tip of the crescent moon with my hook and silk yarn made from recycled sari's. I will hook your dreams for you out of the most brilliant colors, mesmerizing myself with the changes in brightness and texture, changes in tones as the fiber passes through my fingers weaving dreams of knots and chains to catch your hopes and grab out your fears. As I complete each dream, I will toss it to the stars, which will open the weave and drape it softly over your slumbering heart. You are my dream, and I am yours. When our dreams become real, then our dreams will return.”  

Poet took the Weaver to his house along the river. He fed her fry bread and mango and they made each others dreams come true.

In someone else’s dream, at the crossroads on bended knee, the poet asked the weaver “marry me?” In someone else’s dream, at the crossroads she did. In someone else’s dream, she called him husband, her Poet, and he called her “Wife”, his Weaver. The Poet took the Weaver to his house along the river. He fed her fry bread and mango and they made each other’s dreams come true.

The Weaver wove The Poet 3 children of silver and mauve with flecks of gold. Their beauty was surreal and was too unimaginable, not tangible enough for this world. They took the children to the sea on a blue moon night, and one by one the children swam away, happy to be returning to their home, their silver backs glinting in the moonlight. The mermaids and the Silkies swam from their places under the waves to rejoice and greet their cousins.

In someone else’s dream, The Weaver still calls The Poet “Husband” and The Poet calls the  Weaver “Wife”. In someone else’s dream, not his, and not mine.

~J~moonmango   4/?/2012

Wilderness in My Own Head

I can't seem to help being myself. Thoughts occurring with no regard, or respect for the decisions I have made continue no matter what I do in life, how sure I feel, thoughts occurring while pulling some weeds, taking a walk, making play dough and such. No respect whatsoever. I feel taken for granted by the breath and depth of wilderness in my own head.

Cosmic Train Wreck;

  1. Of or relating to the universe or cosmos, esp. as distinct from the earth.
  2. Inconceivably vast.

Train Wreck:
A collision between two or more trains heading towards each other on the same track

~J~moonmango~                                                                      3/23/12

Peace To Holly...I envy the wind...

Baby’s rocker 

Pounding rain, whipping winds, flying debri overhead.

Huddled in a ball seems safe enough, no way to escape the love

Stand up, shout at the wind, open wide, let it all in,

Baby’s rocker slammed to the wall, broken to bits for the love of it all

Throw it to the wind, crash it to the rocks, raise your fists and scream

The storm takes it all, all for the sake of love.

Standing at the edge arms open wide to the storm, might just blow right off

No one said there wouldn’t be pain. Flying debri, sand in your eyes

Open it up, scream and cry, slam baby’s rocker against the wall

 Some glue and paint can’t hide the scars of baby’s rocker hitting the wall

Brown to white, to cheery green, left too soon in the dew

Run head on into the wind, paint running, rocker arm split, face the storm

Baby’s rocker, can’t be fixed.

~J~moonmango         4/20/2012

Me & Newton at the Crossroads of Y

Rainbow outside Corvallis, lambs in the grass, sheep by the river, red dots on their backs, goin’ 80, moving too fast. Slow  down, slow down at the crossroads, or you’ll  drive right past.
~J MoomMango~  



Hit a Crossroads in Life and hit the road to Kennewick to be with Family and visit old friends along the way. I knew I needed frame of reference as well as to go forth in my struggle to operate on Faith not Fear. Two nights before I left, as I drove to the Irish Festival at the local Bug Hostel, I caught sight of the price of gas that had shot up. I panicked and wondered if I should be going in my unemployed state. As I reminded myself to operate on faith, not fear, my Totem Great Horned Owl soared into the headlights, paused then floated off. Confirmed. I was going.

First Stop was Ashland, Oregon at my  friend Preston's campgrounds where it snowed and blew a wild windstorm. Beautiful! 

Neil Creek Ashland Campsite
Snowy Lantern
Snow Dancers

Saves the day

Question Spiraling

Why in the Y with a swirl spiraling it all inwards and outwards which ever need be at the moment.

Perfect moments, moments of time, questions, maybe’s, why’s and Y’s. Take it in, let it out, ask the question again and again, why, oh Y

The crossroads lead to the answer, just have to ask the question of why at the Y and spiral inwards or outwards for direction.

Point your finger, close your eyes, spin until you fall then open your eyes and see which way the finger points.

Finger pointing at the crossroads tells you which way to go at the Y, but doesn’t tell you why. Question the question.   

Papa L smoking and laughing knows the answer to the question. Papa answers the question with a question why at the Y, smoking and laughing.

Leave a mango, a heart, or two, plant your self and partake at the Y, spin until you fall and you’ll know why at the Y.

Question the question, spiraling it inwards, or outwards, which ever need be at the moment.

~J~moonmango                                                   2012 (possibly February or March?)

 Gotta Go
Gotta go, gotta go fast
gotta go, gotta pass,
engine lights on &
I'm low on gas
Baby's at the crossroads
gotta go fast
Drivin' 80 no stoppin' to play
I'm drivin' 80 all the way
Can't go 60, not today
Hearts a poundin',poundin' away
Baby's at the crossroads
Where my heart will stay

Mantra --trust the powers. Stay Calm. Be Brave. Watch for the SIgns. & Trust the Powers.

The trip quickly became a journey of reflection and grounding clarity moving me in forward motion based on Faith, not Fear. Old friends were instrumental. It amazes me how the years can pass, children grown up, yet good old friends will just pick right up where they left off.It also amazes me how well my friends know me even after years of absence. They know me better than I know myself it seems. Somehow we made differences in each others lives on these visits. Frame of reference, there's nothing like it!

North to Vancouver
Mt. Shasta

New favorite movie quote: The Help: "Were you dropped on your head as a child, or just born stupid?"

City traffic

Out the window twilight

The journey to Vancouver to visit friends was an adventure in playing with the camera out the window!

"Stone Henge" along the Columbia River from Vancouver to Kennewick

Awakening from Sweet Slumber

Slumber so sweet the stars weep for want          
A volcano ready to spew
Heat intense
From simmer to boil in a flash
Loudness in existential form
No quieting the loudness
A crash
                                                                                                           ~J MoonMango~

Four Eyed Monkey

I see a monkey, a four eyed monkey
a four eyed monkey with two noses,
twenty fingers and twenty toeses,                            
A four eyed monkey peeking at me
from between the steps of the slide you see
a four eyed monkey spying on me
a four eyed monkey...Lucy & Keahi 
~J MoomMango~

Vancouver had Launie & I up till about 1:00 am catching up on years apart. We solved most of the problems of the world. David, having to work the next day, went on to bed! I lost the pic, so if Launi emails it to me again, I'll post it. 

Think I'll get the job?

The job opportunities were endless in Kennewick

Hot coffee (the other side says "ot coffe")

Kennewick! Yay!

Vanessa & Isaiah were painting the living room.


Morning Light                                                         

Ah, my morning light
You filter in through my window
touching gently upon my cheek
bringing lightness to my heart 

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Mauve, nothing but Mauve

Beauty above Tahsis Inlet summer 2010
Leonard Cohen If It Be Your Will (very mauve)  (hint...if you click on Leonard C, and then the Mauve song further below at the right times, it sounds cool together!)

 Mauve to Blue                                                                                                         

Grey, like the thick fog in the valley hiding the truth making intimacy possible
Wind blows, volcano blows, ash covering fire, glowing molten, but the fire is there
Red, orange, yellow turning to white light, offering itself beyond all darkness
 Ash settles, calmness spreads, moving gently like a lover exploring…
Intimacy awakens with the light. Truth. Honesty. Trust. It’s not the body, it’s the heart
Unfolding a treasure, golden, warm like the sun. Unfolding, paralysis gone
 An offering. Betrayed. Mauve to blue, but never again grey 
Red, orange, yellow turning… Always an offering.

~J~Moonmango                                                                      Kiltman inspired


     Hints Of Mauve (Or, So, I Think)

'The Migrant' ,Denis Keogh



Mauve. the first synthetic dyestuff ever invented.
,a bright but delicate pale purple aniline dye.

Sometimes appearing organically in the sky, a sunset, or in moonlight reflected on water. the Mallow wildflower defining the color.
Not lavender. ,lavender being a pale blue w/ a just a trace of mauve. ,although sometimes considered a shade of dirty pink or purple. more grey & more blue than a pale hint of magenta.
(--which about sums it up. & now we know.)

The color easier to explain than the emotion. & since I was born w/ the difficulty of being able to understand my emotions, I can't be a lot of help here.

Probably been there, crossed paths w/ the color many times in my mind.
Blue I think I understand. Mauve eludes me. It's so specific.

I guess I'm more of a primary color person. although I understand light yellow-green, & I understand red ochre. I understand salmon as well.
but to me, mauve is a figure of the imagination.

& I know we all have as many new emotions as we have thoughts. Or, so I think.
a lot of them go unidentified. which would be the case here. pinning emotions on colors,
or colors on emotions. however it works.

One of the many things I am not very good at. Maybe I'm 'mauve' right now. I'm certainly something. ,but under the circumstances,
I doubt I'll ever use mauve in a poem.
S. Preston Chase

Mauve Song...

Febrary sunset off my porch  ~J~

Mauve, to Red
Mauve Listeni/ˈmv/[2] (rhymes with "stove"[citation needed]; from the French form of Malva "mallow") is a pale lavender-lilac color, one of many in the range of purples. The color mauve is named after the mallow flower.
Mauve is more grey and more blue than a pale tint of magenta would be. Many pale wildflowers called "blue" are actually mauve. Sometimes mauve can be considered a dirty pink or a shade of purple.
Mauve can also be described as pale violet.

Mauve.  Unsaturated color made up of the reds, whites, blues of a heart worn with love. Patience accommodates this color well, but often is hard to find in areas easily gathered.

Mauve to Blue, seasoned and true, Mauve to red, mostly shares my bed.
Mauve with extra, while, toning to gray, makes the mule. Enough black and Mauve drives off in a red sports car.

Mauve in a flower heals lovers broken hearts.

Mauve in a sunset puts babes to sleep gently with dreams.

Mauve in lipstick melts in the car, and stains a lovers collar.

Mauve woven in a dream weave may bring a dream of warm loving.

Mauve in stormy eyes, drops one to their knees.

Mauve in rock formations weep the weary under the mosses.

Painted sky with tones of Mauve, dripping colours mixed haphazardly down the horizon. Slathered reds, whites, blacks and blues turning, maybes into could bees, should bees and hardlys almost, but not quite having it’s way with the wouldbees.                                                

                                                                          e            it         
                                                                                down,                     p


Only dreams can paint you the moon. Mauve to red, raining on a bed of roses most fully in bloom. Having a laugh, loving along, Papa L. running long side with you. Bola de Sabão,  bola de Sabão  Mauve to red, Mauve to red 

~J~moonmango                                         3/12 


Fire weed aboveTahsis inlet


Mariposa Lily East side of Sierras
Owl clover Skeleton Creek


Mauve                                              Mauve

                 Mauve                                              Mauve

Mauve                                 Mauve

Wild onion above Tahsis inlte

Electric mauve (Lily at about 3 years on trampoline)

Mauve is a color that can’t make up it’s mind..
either it’s blue or pink or lavender.
It’s sad or depressed or wishy washy..can’t make up it’s mind.
Mauve is contemplative, feminine, a little worried.
Mauve is lovely, peaceful until you dissect it into its elements.
Mauve is tension with an artistic vocabulary.

My favorite color, right now, is red.
Sue Inge   3/28/12
Kennewick, WA. sunset

How's this for red Sue? Ha!

Portland mauve


Me mauve at Lithia Park Ashland, Or.

Mauve sunset off my porch

~Mauve To Joy  ~                 3/3/12
(based on a conversation with Holly about Mauve as a mood, inspirational credit to Leonard Cohen, Sue Inge, Preston Chase and anyone enduring my own mauve moods)

Mauve to Red is one thing~                                                                      
Mauve to Blue yet another~
Mauve leaning to grey tones~
 spirals downwards 
to the black that spirals up, but not out.

The Reds and Whites bring shades of pink
to brighten the Dear Heart.
When White spirals outward, the Red overpowers,
sending invitation to black within the grey,                                    
grey with white nowhere to be found...

Mauve, turning to black~                                                            
 spiraling nowhere,,,
setting heavily in the soul
White! All the colors of the rainbow,
shades now of joy~

Got mauve? make mauve comments! I'd love to hear thoughts of mauve as a mood...