MUTO by blu

I had a friend who was an artist and was exhausted by emptying the penny jar to pay the bills. His art was raw. It peeled off the societal blanket and expressed a taste for the vitality of existence. The life of one who stood on the edge of a cliff with the bitter wind rushing against his bare chest. And I wondered then how his artistic genius had been affected by that penny jar.

I thought of my friend when I viewed the following animation made in Buenos Aires - check it out:

www.vimeo.com/993998

heart fire

the clouds split open
bearing their silver breast
a shiver running up her spine

i look into your smiling eyes
and laugh at our pretend
to think each time we meet
we itemize this new day
this new way

once again
here we are
learning
becoming
the truth within.

thank you
thank you
thank you

great goddess mother mansa

To yerba mansa and the medicinal people that carried her spirit:

"mother dancing before the beginning,
mother dancing through the end.
by seed, by root, by stem give birth.
mystery mother of the dark waters,
beautiful mother of the green earth.
all your dance mother,
all your song great goddess.
great water mother;
all flowing, all pervading.
great earth mother;
sustaining, supporting.
great air mother;
vastness beyond all bounds.
great fire mother;
our warmth, all live.
by thee is the universe filled
great goddess mother."

- author unknown

Today, I helped my friend Nikki plant her stand of yerba mansa. Yerba mansa, Anemopsis californica, is an incredible medicine. It was historically used by many people including the Pima, Mayo, Yaqui, Mexican, Chumash and Shoshone. Natives frequently carry the root with them, chewing it and swallowing the juice. It is an astringent, tonic, carminative, and anti-emetic used for catarrhal conditions of the respiratory, gastro-intestinal, and genito-urinal tracts. Stands of yerba mansa exist in scattered locations throughout the southwest and often grow in places of refuge for nomadic people. The distribution of the plant has been attributed to ancestral medicinal peoples. Since mansa was such a important medicine, people would carry the living root great distances. I was introduced to the plant many moons ago at a hot springs in Arizona named Eden - a true botanical haven.

Canyon Whispers and Our Songs

The other day, I lay above a precipe that dropped down to the Colorado river. The great canyon walls loomed above me and I wondered how it was that it still seemed like a photograph, a dream - and yet here I was melting into the red rocks with the roar of the river pounding at on my chest. I smiled at the morning sun as it warmed my frozen fingers. A bird circled above - a flash of light in its eyes as it cocked its head towards the ground. And is it possible to love the earth as I loved it this morning - curled in the arms of the mother where the Hopi say it all began?

As I was leaving this magical and mystical land, I shuffled through a musical gift listening to the demands (met or unmet?) of our song,
"We claim the present as the pre-sent, as the hereafter.
We are unraveling our navels so that we may ingest the sun.
We are not afraid of the darkness, we trust that the moon shall guide us.
We are determining the future at this very moment.
We now know that the heart is the philosophers' stone
Our music is our alchemy"
- Saul Williams

Park Tales from "Here to There" Prescott

There is something about the harshness of the desert that can breed a certain type of society - also stemming from the days of old where everyone and everything (man, woman, child, scorpion, snake, and cacti alike) take up arms against any and all strangers. On my early morning walk past lowered pickups with tinted windows and gunracks, pitbulls, razor edged fences, empty liquor bottles, the occasional honk, whistle, and staggering drunk, I made my way to a whimsical little creek in the park. A trail called Creekside led me from "here to there".

As I was walking past an area with log benches, old firepits, and the occasional overnighter paraphernalia, I saw two men standing by a table. One looked up and said in somewhat slurred voice, "good morning, would you like to see my friend draw?". Quickly assessing the situation and acknowledging my intuition that said everything was okay, I walked over. One man was fully engrossed in a beautiful drawing of a flower on a 2x4. We spoke only briefly, as all three of us were very intent on the drawing. It was obvious that my newfound artistic friends had had a long, cold sleepless night. But, it seemed as if not a care in the world was present at our little gathering. Both of them smiled and were delighted by the hand-drawn flowers that were taking shape on the wood. John, the artist, decided that the piece belonged to me since I had stopped to say hello. I responded by saying that I will take it home and work on it and then bring it back to the park for everyone to see. Travis' eyes lit up. We all agreed it was a good idea. After saying our goodbyes, I smiled at the wonders of such a simple interaction. Time and time again when I approach strangers with the acceptance and care that I give my kin and friends, I find I am surrounded by brothers and sisters. I want to thank all the strangers and friends, friends and strangers, who constantly surprise me with the gift of openness and familiarity.

I have posted photos in my gallery of magical moments - art in the park. Please feel free to share the gift of creation from John, Travis, and myself.

bicycle teachings

On the way to work this morning I passed by a mother and her son riding their bicycles. The young boy was insisting that his mother slow down because his sister had been left behind. About 100ft up the path was a little girl on her tricycle. When I approached her, I noticed that she wasn't moving and had a look of panic in her eyes. I was just about to keep walking when I stopped, turned around, and knelt down beside her. “Are you stuck?” I asked her. Without taking her eyes from her mother, who was now worrying about her child, she nodded. In a barely audible voice she responded, “yes”. “Would you like me to push you?” “yes” I reached over and from the underside of her peddle pushed her into motion. Her little legs moved with such fluidity, that in no time she caught up with her family.

As I walked away I started to reminisce on my past relationship. I related my partner to the young girl. And then I wondered who I was in this scenerio. I saw myself in the mother who worried about her child being left behind. I saw myself in the brother who wanted to go back and help her out. I saw myself in the little girl who was terrified of facing the path and unable to move forward. But most importantly, I saw myself in myself. I knelt beside my partner and forgot to ask. I knelt beside my partner and made an assumption about where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do. And then I pushed the peddle. I forced it into movement. And as a result we madly peddled backwards attempting to find that point of rest until we lost site of our own journey. Of where, when, and how quickly we wanted to go - individually and together. I disempowered his ride and in turn I disempowered mine. I pushed myself on a ride that didn’t belong to us. And in return he pushed back.

Thank you to the family I met this morning for their good teachings on this day. And I wish my ex-partner all the beauty, wonder, and joy of his own tricycle ride on this sunny day.