The Nature of Pattern Feb 5th 2019

Ritual is necessary

Also Litany

They are the skeleton that gives a frame

And the blueprint.

Here is a foundation.

We build up from the ground

So eventually we have a home to live in.

But the inhabitants themselves are also portals.

For these fundamentals to be timeless

They must also serve timely purposes

And be adaptable 

Just as we are.

The core around which I live

May be said to lead all the way back

Yet it is also now, hatching me every day

I AM is always present in this eternity.

Praying with the Lakota for the Land

Praying with the Lakota For The Land

The colonizing overculture, which produces monoculture with devastating results, which assumes resources without realizing cycles, is a house divided against itself. I too am standing with the land, the stones, the dirt, the bugs, the animals and the fish, the birds; these all depend upon the stewards of the land, which have become us. I am far from understanding the ways of Nature, but I am throwing in my lot with her, because, really, there is no other place under God where we stand, eh? I am not called to politics, or war, or merchandising. I am called to abundant life, and as I nurture my little pea patch, I can see the wealth that is a living heritage.

Mystic or Mage? May 29th 2019

Mystic or Mage?  

Sooner than later is the realization that you are dealing 

With A Very Big Responsibility..
Too much, really, for one temporary life.

Brave Mage, your tools and your arm, 
Your will and your action need to be married in this life.

Devoted Mystic, the sublime ecstasy will only be a memory, 

And still today you must do your sadhana.

If you admit to God

Then there is a hope of Grace straddling the Abyss

Or if you see God as Wrathful

The reading is Judgement and Blood,

For blood always appeases an angry god.

Martha was distraught.

And Mary could not tear away from gazing at the Light before her

He loves them both of course

But He’s reminding Martha that it’s too much for her

And perhaps she should mend to Him.

The bigger the God 

The more precious the blood

And how can we step up to that?

Before we admit to God,  it’s the ritual we must get right

Or it all goes up in smoke and the blowback is a bitch.

After we admit, plainly,

There is not enough blood in the world to appease an angry God.

Yes? All the blood in the world cannot even appease 
The Kings of Men!

Give up the call and response which will bleed you to death.

—Only the biggest God can deal with wrath—

And let your soul lie quiet in the womb of Grace

There will be time for the work, 

Great as it is;
The Host knows to feed you.

Do what you can, Mage, because you can, and you will—but first,

Come here and gaze into the mystic, gentle, humble face of God.

And dear Mystic, Mary of God, 
May your gaze never leave the Light of the Face

Even while you are reciting the words, even while you are lighting the candle

Pouring water, making the meal, and learning to wield the tools of your trade

For the two must become one 

And your faith must be steady

Walking through the darkest Valley of Shadows

Your hand firm in the hand of Grace

Letter to Susan 1.30.2019

Dear Susan,

It was sure nice to hear your voice after all this time!  I promise I won't wait so long next time..
I was going to hand write you a letter, but apparently this letter is going to be longish and I type a lot faster than I print!

Enclosed are the statements I have from this year; there are two accounts, one with TDAmeritrade, a basic stock account, and one with Vanguard which is an IRA.  It shouldn't be hard or complicated- ---mostly emotional.  I imagine you'll need a copy of the death certificate and the will; your lawyer will certainly know what to do if you come up to a snag, and Art is your steady support.

You asked about poetry, so, at the risk of inundation, I'm sending you a folder of poems, and a small self-published book done in 2016, when my dad and I took a college course from Professor Marina Shipova (the wife of my music partner Noel) on self-publishing, and we each published a book.  The inundation:  more recent poems, loose in the back of the folder..  Dad has continued to publish, and has now 4 books to his name.  All short stories, sort of O'Henry-ish and a little more thought-ful as he goes along.

I sort of gave up on publishing for the time being and am rather trying to just keep up with my life in general..eh?   But lately have been working on hand-written copies into bound journals.  This is laborious as you may well imagine, but it gives me time to think about What Are You Really Trying To Say, and reminds me that my self is consistent over the years.  It's a journal, no question, and I journal best when I'm struggling over something, so, SORRY!!  Some of it is a pure slog.  I've realized writing is my meditation, more or less, and writing really is a surprise.  The things I come up with, the things I realize, the things I see.  Also, much cheaper than therapy, and I have something to show for it.  Hahahaha!  Seriously! 

And in the meantime, I'm doing massage, taking continuing ed according to what interests me and is useful, going for walks with my neighbor when it's not too friggin cold (we're geraniums out here and perish at 25 degrees) and am still playing music with Noel. 

In 2013, my mom died in April.  A month later, NOEL's mom died, and before he knew about it that day, HE fell off a roof doing an electrical job in downtown Sequim.  He landed on pavement and smashed his left wrist to bits, and cracked his hip in 3 places.  Somehow, he did not break his skull.  Anyway, he was in a cast for months and months, and had to start over with everything the left hand does, especially the guitar.  (His chord hand, you know, and the wrist was all remade with cadaver bone and plastic bits, screws, etc.)  So, we have not played professionally since.  We get together every week and play.  Sometimes we sit and watch a movie.  We're getting old.  Seriously.  I am not kidding.  He HAS been writing a lot of songs, and over the first few rough years of recovery, he regained about 99.9 % of his fluidity on the guitar, which is just stupifying.  He still complains about his "deficiency", and I still remind him that He Lived, and nobody else can tell that he doesn't play Just Like He Used To, even Me.  So we're still learning music.  Just too old and cranky to play out.

My Dad helped me to buy out your half, as you may have realized, and then he totally blew me away by paying off my mortgage.  This was a forward, and would come out of my inheritance.  When my brother found out, he went ballistic.  He'd been getting more aggressive toward Dad and was making things uncomfortable for Diedra, and in the end, Dad and the lawyer came up with an exit strategy for my brother, involving giving him some money up front, and the rest after he was out of the house.  He had two weeks to leave.  Money is a strong motivator.  He was out, lock stock and barrel, and we have not heard from him since.  Apparently he lives in Port Angeles, because I have seen him occasionally near the library.  Long story short, we are all relieved and he appears to be in better health (lost weight because, no car by choice, and walks everywhere) and doing well enough.

Doug has lately finished a building project in the back yard, hidden in the trees.  Roughly 400 square feet with a small "Meditation Loft" complete with staircase, lots of windows, and a beautiful door.  It's his Man Cabin, and he has his futon there, along with stereo, records, a small desk and a couple of low coffee tables.  He can get away from the Cats and The Woman back there and read until 2:30 am if he wants.  It's very cool.  You can not see it either from the road or from the sky.  He's working on music all the time and just gets better and better.  He wants me to sing the blues, but I'm too English Lady-ish and must stick to my melodic ballads.

And, yada yada. 

Put me in your email contacts list, will you?  sidneyspath@ gmail.com, and email me with your email address?  And if you venture into Facebook, please let me know.  If you only befriend me, you will be richly entertained with lovely pictures and pithy comments, and you don't have to have any other people in your face. book. 

Probably much more to say but the clock is tapping me on the shoulder.

Love,  Sidney

Mother Tongue October 18th and 27th 2015

The Mother Tongue  October 18th, & 27th, 2015

Would that I speak with the tongue of Nature
That washes down the kits and calves
That sends the red leaves down
Gold and green and red leaves down
And whispers lovely nothings
Into the ear of God.

The other night
The wind blew through the heavy cedars
And the looming angel maples
Next morning
My curling street was carpeted with gold

Tree gold has the odor of incense
I've noticed it before
Filling my lungs with the air of prayer,
Moving through
The trees

Bed Time Story. Jan 8th 2019

                                                            Bed Time Story      1/8/2019

Pretend you went to sleep and you fell into the Void
Where all things are possible but nothing is manifest.

You fell deeply asleep there and disappeared
(silly I know because the whole time you were in your bed
Weren't you?)

Pretend you woke up with the Void inside you
And you became Deep Space.  With great stars and planets.  Constellations.
The Milky Way
Huge and empty and populated, 

You carry the Void within like a seed
All things possible, nothing manifest, 

You travel Deep Space
With stars trailing off your fingers and toes.

Pretend you are That Child, sitting on a wooden chair,
Streaming through the Deep,
Filled with all possibility yet sitting absorbed in silent awe
You could be anywhere.

You could be standing at the sink
Looking through the window filled with all possibility
Looking at your reflection and everything is manifest but you don't move
You just look at yourself and see it all.

You are so real.  It's very clear.

The Void within is exerting pressure on the possibility of
Manifestation
And you taste that.
It turns out to be Love.

How I Clean House

Huh.  I'm not sure about this woman.  Look, she's talking to herself.
She's wandering all over the house.  What on earth is she doing??

She's having a two way private conversation.

Whaaa??  That's NONSENSE!

Don't listen to what she's saying.  Watch what she DOES.

What's she doing then?

Everything, man.