Of the Earth: Original Speech and the Senses

by Kiva Rose Hardin

http://animacenter.org

“Our senses are meant to perceive the world. They developed with and from the world, not in isolation. Using them is the act that opens the door that is in Nature.”
-Stephen Buhner

“All we have to believe with is our senses, the tools we use to perceive the world: our sight, our touch, our memory. If they lie to us, then nothing can be trusted. And even if we do not believe, then still we cannot travel in any other way than the road our senses show us; and we must walk that road to the end.”
-Neil Gaiman

Original speech was never words. The language of primal being and the living earth speaks in a soft brush of fur against our bare skin, flows on wild melodies for our ears to hear, blossoms into a rich sweetness on our tongues, fades into a thousand shades of green in the forest canopy, envelopes us in the heady musk of an orchid. Words are shorthand, symbols for the real world. – Don’t mistake me, words have beauty and power, but only so far as they evoke the sensory web in which we live. Abstractions, concepts without root in the flesh and blood of earthly existence are but stillborn shadows of the inspirited organism that is our planet. The healer cannot afford to play pretend with big words and heady ideas, our work is in the achingly physical planes of skin, root, bone, leaf, heart, petiole, uterus, stamen, belly. This is our territory, our haven, our speech and most of all, our home.

As humans, we are intended to reside in our bodies and in our connections to the land, each other, the all. Our senses are not meant to be just half of the equation, with the other half cerebral hyperbole and mental loops. Our senses and our honed awareness of them are the entirety of being. Indeed, if we do not live wholly in our bodies, we do not wholly live. Our minds exist, not outside of the senses, but as a processing center for sensation, so that we might further refine and hone our awareness, our capacity to feel and our ability to respond to those feelings.

Our ancestors, as indigenous peoples of planet earth and full participants in the natural world, knew well how to listen to the land. They heard and understood the language of river, otter, rock, dragonfly and flower. In the age of industrial civilization we speak of these people and those days as if they were long gone. As if, in fact, it all might have been a myth, a fanciful fairy story to begin with. After all, old women do love to embellish stories by the fire, and men are well known for their exaggerated tales, so perhaps life has always been this burdensome and boring and we humans have always been this cut off from the magic and mystery. Perhaps we never did speak to plants, and we really are as crazy as our neighbors (who catch us whispering compliments to Dandelions) suppose we are. This insistent and insidious whisper of doubt stems from our fear and our imagined separation from the natural world, including ourselves. And despite the many stories to the contrary, it is not magic and the realm of Faery that have faded from our world, but we humans who have closed ourselves into the vast corridors of our minds and turned our backs on the innate enchantment to which we are each born.

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3 Steps to ReLearning Original Language

1. Surrender to the Senses
The first step is to forget words, and the best and most natural way to do this is to give ourselves over to our senses. Step away from your computer, wander out of the house into the forest or garden or into your lover’s arms. Immerse yourself in the experience as if it was the first time you’d ever smelled dew-wet grass at dawn, or kissed the inside of your husband’s wrist, where the pulse pounds beneath your lips. Give yourself up to it as if it were the final time. As if this whisper of indian summer wind lilting through the elms that line your road is the last sound you’ll ever hear.

Now, start with five minutes each day, spend that entire time without words in your head. But don’t space out or float away from your body, stay firmly rooted in the here and now, ground yourself in your senses. If you can’t manage it any other way, choose five minutes of eating. Eat very slowly, don’t analyze the food. Notice it, savor it, and if it’s not worth savoring, get something else to eat. Give yourself over to instinctual experience of touch, taste, scent, sound and sight.

Integrate this into your daily life, even when it’s painful or unpleasant. If you burn your finger on the stove or your toes are cramped by your too small shoes, pay attention and respond rather than blocking or numbing it. Feel it, explore it, live inside it until you recognize the feeling’s fingerprint upon your senses.

If this is hard, persist. If it’s easy, delight in it. Don’t trivialize or rush the process. Don’t imagine for a moment you already know how to do this, no matter your age, your experience, your education. This is important, this is the primary way in which the natural world speaks to us, and it is the only way in which to learn the most vital aspects of a healer’s practice.

Don’t worry about translating every sensation into meaning, that comes later, and will only inhibit the process at this point. For now, simply cultivate a mammalian awareness and child-like presence. Notice. Embrace. Savor.

2. Inhabit your body.

One might think that surrendering to sensation would be identical to inhabiting the body, but I have seen and experienced the phenomenon of entering the body or immersing the self in sensation just long enough to experience incredible pleasure or crushing pain, but otherwise habitually abandoning the body to its automatic processes with little notice on our part.

To inhabit the body is to consciously and completely attend to breath, play, pain, dream, bliss. It is to stretch and wriggle into every crevice and corridor, filling our skin with our selves. It is to finally realize that our skin IS our selves. We are not merely souls trapped in flesh, but rather animated, inspirited matter in the form dancing, crying, loving humans.

Many of us may wish our bodies were younger, more toned, smaller, lithe or less scarred – and yet, our bodies are both home and, hopefully, an expression of our own character, a lined map of the lives we have lived. The more fully we inhabit our bodies, the more our bodies will reflect our authentic selves, from the sparkle of the eye to the gesture of eager hands to the balance and confidence with which we move. There is no other body for our beings, just as there is no other planet for our people. We are here and nowhere else. The journey to loving and valuing our body, perceived flaws and all, may be long and arduous indeed, but we begin with accepting that it is who we are and by inhabiting it as completely as is possible.

Consciousness resides in the entirety of the body. Practice centering your awareness somewhere besides you head. Let your index finger or left calf or your belly become the primary conduit for consciousness for a little while. Every day, send you awareness to different parts of your body and allow them to wake up, to feel and sense fully. When you’ve learned to expand yourself into all parts of your body, try holding your consciousness within the whole body at the same time. Understand that the idea that your awareness is only in your head is culturally indoctrinated lie, because in fact, we humans and all animals, lived inside the entirety of our bodies not just one extremity.

3. Engage the Present

Once we’re finally at home in our bodies, we often find ourselves living more intensely from moment to moment, deeply aware of the soft sweep of our clothing against our skin, of the morning light on our faces, of the bitter yet rich bite of the day’s first cup of coffee, of the pulse of breath as it flows from and to us. This brings us into the present, into each second of the day. There’s no more numbed out hours where we forget we’re anything but lumps of tissue in front of the TV or thumbs pounding away at video game controllers or clever brains solving complex networking problems from a cubicle.

In the vital, precious present moment, we immerse ourselves into our original wild nature, and feel the pull of the forest from outside our doors. We remember how to hear the plants speaking to us, the earth calling our names, all through the connecting threads of our senses and the presence that allows us to hear and understand.

Utilizing your heightened sensory awareness, notice whenever you start to pull yourself from the present. Even (or especially) when the stress of marital strife, sick kids or a bad job triggers the desire to escape into fantasy or convenient distraction, bring yourself back. For many, the simplest way to to maintain presence is to engage in a sensorily rich and informative practice, such as gardening, dancing or gathering medicinal plants or cooking. Such activities require the respect of remaining in the moment and noticing each nuance.

Whenever your mind threatens to overflow with an endless train of words or barrage of useless images, bring yourself back to the now. Go outside and below the nearest tree or with whatever bit of wildness you can find. Don’t banish the words, just let them fade away in the face of the immediacy of tactile experience. Press your fingers to rough bark, or lay your face against smooth green leaves, or immerse your body in moving water. Give yourself back to the embrace of the moment, to the original speech that flows between us and the earth.

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To remember, to open the senses fully, to bring ourselves back into fellowship with place  can take time, practice and great intent. For most of us, it means emerging from many years and generations of isolation and sensory deprivation. As difficult and confusing as this process of re-awakening can be, it’s also incredibly rewarding and pleasurable as we re-learn the almost lost language of our ancestors, of our more than human kin and the earth itself. For we who are healers and shamans, as the medicine people of an increasingly industrial age, this is the work of a lifetime. The more we can give ourselves back to sensory immersion in the natural world, the easier it will be to hear the plants and animals, the land itself, speaking to us. Likewise, we will better know what herbs are best in specific situations, what each person most needs to be whole and healed, and where our individual place in the great mystery lies. When we return to our senses, we awaken to the knowledge that the whole world is singing, that there is meaning and magic in every moment and thread of life, and that we are a part of it all. We remember that all of life speaks the same intense, sensory language, and then we too, begin listening and speaking within the wild dialogue of taste and touch, song, scent and sight.

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All Pics (c)2009 Kiva Rose Hardin except Loba by Woodstove (c) 2009 Jesse Wolf Hardin

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The following amounts to our Thanksgiving musings and blessings, written by Wolf, felt and shared by each of us here.  -Kiva

Thanks & Giftings

I have a fair amount of uncomfortable baggage around Christmas, but I actually don’t have any issues with Thanksgiving.  I know it celebrates some intolerant racist pioneers who only survived with all their civilized superiority because of the native peoples they both dispossessed and inadvertently infected with catastrophic diseases.  Nonetheless, I am prepared to be thankful on any day, even the hardest and most painful!

If a leg were caught in a trap, I would be grateful the other was free.  If I could not prevent some great tragedy, I would still be grateful to have loved enough to care so much and have tried so hard.  If I lost someone or something I cherished, I would be thankful to have known them.  If not all that I teach is heard, I feel gratitude for the ways I was, and was able to help.  I do not look away from or seek diversion from the painful or difficult, but seek balance by giving necessary attention to what is well, whole, meaningful and right… to what can be affected or abetted, aided or healed.

We will have turkey this Thursday like most Americans, undeterred by any commercialism, grateful to have old friends bringing it and sharing in what is truly the bounties of life.  Even those of us with the lowest income levels, are rich not just in terms of love and home but even in food, in comparison to much of the world.  And we feel as rich as any, blessed with a table full of wild and domestic nourishment, shared feelings and necessary tales, wild boon and vital gifts.  It will not be a nod to the pilgrims, but to inspirited life itself, to the company and family togetherness, to the cooks Kiva and Loba who will have helped prepare the feast, to the precious edible plants and their tasty leaves and tubers, to the turkey and all the products of life that it fed and fattened on, to the earth that grew all, the Anima that infuses it, and the mystery from which all rises and returns.  Thanksgiving – a giving of thanks – it will be!

And there have been other gifts of late, to say thanks for.  There seem to be wonderful people in this world who want to help us and this project, or show their affection, not just through donations.  Some offer services, from help with photocopying or phone calls to fixing a project Jeep.  Others are moved to bring sarongs or mail exotic ingredients from their gardens or Trader Joe’s.  A few others feel a need to locate some special, meaningful and often vintage item with no practical use, purchase it, and make a show of their love. Or it may be herbs or tinctures or salves that are clearly and sometimes urgently needed.   Sometimes their gift will be of particular personal significance and sentimentality.  Or even take time to make the present for us themselves.  For all the seriousness of our work, we are as joyous forest creatures whenever boxes arrive, Kiva digging into the wrapping like a child into a too well wrapped package.  Loba and Rhiannon love to watch, everyone taking pleasure in seeing the surprise of whomever each item was for, all willing recipients if the hand carved wooden spoon or hand drawn card turns out to be meant for them.

Here you see a hand drawn note of personal thanks from student, herbalist and dancer Ananda, executed in enchanting font, now hanging on the wall and touching hearts whenever look upon.  Such expressions make all the work we do, and the deep emotional investment in each person, especially affirming and rewarding.

Andrea is an artist whose fantastic work is getting more and more exposure.  She showed her own gratitude by drawing a bear for Kiva, its nose buried in a bunch of fresh picked herbs.  It feels whimsical without being silly, a very magical and powerful little flower-sniffing bruin.  I mounted it into an antique carved wood frame for our work study (the “Den”), and posed it with attractively labeled plant medicines given to Kiva by Susan Hess of Farm at Coventry herbals.

Sometimes the gift is as simple as these brilliant Fall Maple leaves that came along with a package of music from TWH Conference performers Arborea.  While there are maples in the higher elevations of New Mexico, they rarely turn this brilliant red, and beholding their stained glass luminosity seems to connect us to the Northeastern forests as well as our musician friends Buck and Shanti.

I have heard that I am hard to buy for, being myself a craftsman with specific and highly eclectic tastes.  I can, nonetheless, be readily affected and pleased.   A perfect example was being given this antler handled knife by friend and supporter Steve.  You should have seen the look on my face, totally surprised that he has handing me the knife I’d carved a hawk’s head on the butt of for him many years before.  A mark of our connection now, on my belt on on our wall, it was first a mark of how thankful I was for all his help and friendship.

I suppose it would be pretty impossible to buy me something from a big box store, but there are evidently perfect treasures hiding out in the nooks and crannies of antique stores and yard sale yards.  One of the most unusual, beautiful and appropriate of decorative objects I could think of showed up in the hands of our dear supporter and Apprentice Resolute, herself grateful for what these teaching give her and what she is in turn able to present to the world.  A cast iron door stop (from sometime between the 1880’s and 1930’s I’d wager), it features a wolfen figure, hunting boots, forest mushrooms and grape-hung vines forming an art-nouveau arbor.  It hangs near my desk, next to the Marble Man Earth globe and antique brass inkwell she earlier graced us with.

Here you see a photo of daughter Rhiannon in the Norwegian sweater I got her cheap on Ebay, to go with the ones I had found for Loba and Kiva.  You can see the appreciation in her eyes and demeanor, the most amazingly present and honoring child.  But I too had reasons to be grateful when I took this.   Rhiannon had just finished writing a letter to her biological progenitor, bravely asserting her needs, wishes and boundaries.  When he first wrote, it scared me to share it with her, and scared me to be giving her the choice as a mature nine year old as to how she wanted to deal with his sudden reappearance after so long.  “I only answer to you,” she said without hesitation.  “You’re my only Papa,” she insisted, drawing a flood of tears from my eyes, “my dear precious Papa…”

Thankful I am, to be able to love her and tend her, and to be found so worthy, irreplaceable and incomparable by my daughter…

…just as all of us here in this canyon of power and truth, are thankful for all of our readers, students and allies on this truly Thanks-Giving and Thankful-to-be-Giving Day.

Wishing you every blessing.

-Love, Wolf & Animá Family

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For those of you interested in, able to hear in a positive light, and perhaps able to be inspired by Animá student Ananda’s swearing off of holidays, will be furthered moved to read the actual beautiful letter that she composed for her family and friends, copied below.  It made us cry, frankly, so deeply felt it was, so honest and self-protective.  For those unsure about rote continuation of the holidays, this should feel mighty affirming.  For the rest of you, may it stir gratitude for how good, and real and healthy you have it.  We are proud of the usually very private Ananda, for being willing to risk exposure sharing this with you.  And for acting on her needs when she wondered if she could do this, and mentor Kiva first wrote back “Why not?”

-Wolf

Dearest Family and Friends,

Please don’t read this letter in a hurry. Make some tea and sit comfortably.

I’m writing to you from a vulnerable place, yet courageous and trusting that you, as my kin and kindred, can hold me in compassion.

Some of you know that I suffer each year from seasonal affective disorder. This means that when the leaves, green, flowers and warmth hide for the winter, with it goes any capacity for me to feel happiness, security, or hope. It is not something I have very much control over, however each year I learn something more about how it lives and dances in me, and I glean a little more insight on how to best care for myself. When it sets in, there are no ways out besides time. I often cannot function; speak, communicate, think ahead, or conduct daily tasks that require any effort. Some of the time I resort to anger and cast shadows of resentment and temper across my home.

For my family closest to me; my children, my husband, my parents, and my close friends, I feel a sense of remorse around times in the past when I have abandoned you while tending to my darkness. Please always know that you have not wronged me.

Part of my hopelessness derives from a long time of not being able to accrue financial security. I realize that I am responsible for my choices and that having a family prior to career security is part of this equation. However, choosing to spend all of the tiny monies that I have every year to uphold a Christmas standard has chaffed a chronic wound to an unbearable laceration.

It is time for me, in my life, to examine my truth, my values, and authenticity, regardless of anybody. For me, this means that when the darkness of winter falls, I will not resist the rhythm of going within; of storing what nutrition, energy, money, and time I have in my roots, for the nourishment and sustaining of my very being. This is my truth. Holidays are not my truth. I am not Christian, I do not believe in Santa Clause, and I do not believe in excessive gift giving one day a year out of obligation. Every single day of the year is equally wholly and deserving of celebration.

I do however believe that familial love is like no other. It is sacred, a gift and a teacher. I do believe in the sacredness of our food, our time together, our prayers together, and long sweet hugs. I believe in generosity when the heart feels overflowing – on any given afternoon of any season – and like the moment a leaf falls from a tree, there is not another moment it will be expressed like that again. That is the moment I give a gift. When I give this way, the love transferred is multiplied exponentially. When I give out of obligation, expectation, and financial devastation, I elicit weeks of impenetrable depression.

Out of love and truth, please accept my decision to forego all holiday festivities that are beyond my capacity. I will not be participating beyond a small gift for each of my loved ones, and my presence. I will not participate in light seeing, as it is against my devotion to my Mother Earth. I will not participate in Christmas trees or their decoration. And I will not participate in caroling of any sort, as these songs are not my own faith. I will be present during our gatherings because time together is special to me. I will participate in our foods, laughter, and prayers of gratitude, and I will witness other’s truths and joy with an open heart.

My only request in return, is that you please not present me with gifts beyond something very small and preferably handmade or an offer of time. Feeling inadequate and imbalanced exchanges makes me feel very upset. What is really a gift for me is learning. Time spent with you, learning something you can teach or show me is the most valuable thing you can possibly give to me or my family, even if it must be planned months in advance. Even if to some of you this comes as a surprise given my withdrawing, hermit-like nature.

My children can make their own decisions. I will allow them a small ration of money and they can negotiate what is true for them. This may be a painful and bumpy growth period for them, yet I know they are ready.

To my children: I love you beyond any words, any action, and any declaration. I love you beyond anything a holiday could ever mean. My gift to you, in this life, is the gift of personal freedom; to make both simple and hard choices from a deep place of knowing inside yourself. That is why I take my answers unto myself, and leave you to find your own.

To my compassionate husband: I am filled with gratitude.

In divine love,

Ananda

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pic (c) 2009 Ananda Wilson, all rights reserved.

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Holidays are a time when everyone tries to put on a happy face even if they are sad or alienated… which many are, judging by the spike in cases of depression and even suicide during these meant to be lovely times.  It was therefore refreshing to read the following from Animá student Ananda, explaining to her friends and family that she is resolving to avoid official holidays.  This is incredibly healthy considering the stress these culturally obligatory events cause her, and at least a temporary Holiday Moratorium could be useful for everyone at some point… if only to determine what is superficial and habitual as opposed to what is truly meaningful tradition, what holidays or aspects drain or sadden us and which feed our spirits or contribute to our personal, familial and social wholeness.  This way we can focus on days and happenings that mean the most to us,  from anniversaries to celebrations of accomplishments and the natural cycles and seasons.  And if we chose to return to the celebration of any of the typical national holidays, it would be on our own terms, significant and heartfelt, healthy and satisfying for all concerned.   -Wolf

Holiday Moratorium

by Ananda

As part of my truth-honoring work I have decided to forgo all holidays, starting now, for the next year. Holidays are deeply disempowering to me and probably to those who are subject to my incessant complaining thereof. (You have heard me!) I will be writing a caring and clear letter to all whom this will affect in my life.

Just the thought of being freed of these traps of holiday obligation feels wonderful, I can’t explain! I *might* even be able to see winter for what it really is. I look forward to smelling the air untainted with shame and financial agony. I look forward to pointing out to myself that any day is magnificent enough to be a sacred day of magic, love, or  mystery. While I don’t condemn those who adore the holidays, I also think it, for many, is a crutch and excuse for not honoring the sacredness of everyday aliveness. I also find it disturbing that so many people only celebrate these holidays out of obligation – that is a sad state of being and wish not to condone that.

So…. I’m taking one step closer to my truth, NO HOLIDAYS that I do not deeply resonate with, create myself, or recognize as naturally occurring, which obviously requires nothing of me otherwise!

(Check out Ananda’s inspiring, personal and herbal blog Plant Journeys)

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Dog & Cat Years:

A Case for Presence

The Real Lesson Behind this Common Expression

by Jesse Wolf Hardin

www.animacenter.org

I was thinking about the cat I told you about, Pumpkin-Sigh, how he’d reach for kisses while I was trying to write, flopping his head on the computer keys and thus making it nearly impossible to type!  He wanted me to know that he had his priorities straight, and that he was determined to show me the error of what he considered my workaholic ways.  Needless to say, the little feller ended up dying pretty young, like a lot of pets who grow up with lions, coyotes and hook-clawed owls for neighbors.  But I guarantee you, like most critters he could milk each and every day for all it was worth!

Sometimes when you ask a person how old their cat or dog is they’ll tell you that their Mad Max or little Fluffy “is six,” but then add how that’s really the same as being 42 (or whatever) in “dog years” or “cat years.”  I never knew what this meant as a kid, but it makes more sense to me these days.  I recognize that it could easily take the more “civilized” of our kind seven years of fooling, fudging and floundering just to take in what any simple creature experiences in one.  Now I’m not saying animals are smarter than people, but in fact the more intelligent folks have gotten the more estranged they’ve become from their bodies, emotions, instincts and needs… and the less they tend to notice what’s going on right in front of them, right now!

Ever wonder just how many minutes per day the average person spends fully in their sentient body, conscious of context and place, inhabiting the present moment?  Assuming we’re fortunate enough our tickets don’t get shortened by misfortune or disease, there still isn’t all that much time between when we’re too young to fully notice, and when we’re too senile or crotchety to care.  Unless you’re an insomniac you can deduct 8 hours of each day for sleep, right off the bat.  Now subtract for the long shifts spent distractedly performing repetitious tasks while on “automatic pilot,” standing in lines in big supermarkets or stuck in traffic.  Deduct any we waste jawing about things we’re not really interested in anyway, or watching other people’s make-believe lives on TV…. and then you’ll see.  Scarily enough, one can easily spend less than 60 minutes each day intensely and responsively aware.  That’s less than 52 hours per year fully, acutely alive!  Add up all the precious moments of satisfying presence and deep engagement, and the average modern folk may be wholly, consciously awake for less than 110 days of their entire adult life span!

But hopefully, even the most distracted of indentured cubicle worker is called to attention by the breeze that accompanies the first opening of a window in a stuffy office, even an actor is seduced back into reality by the feel of their bed after a long day on their feet.  Surely we’re jerked to our senses by the surprising taste of something new, made wide awake and ready to act when we hear the sound of screeching brakes.  I know we country folk are thrust back into our selves whenever there’s an explosion of thunder, announcing a Summer shower.  When a child we love is out late, or doesn’t feel like getting out of bed.  When our husband or wife touches our worried brow.  We are most alive, most here, when we’re in danger. In a battle, or in love: suddenly conscious of every detail of our surroundings, and knowing just what to do.  It’s then that we’re as truly awake as our pets, whether they’re insisting on being rubbed, or alarmed at the approach of mountain wildlife.  It’s then that we’re teased out of the movies of our cluttered minds (tails flicking!), and are walked into the blessed light of present time.

(Blessings from Wolf… as I take a break to purr.  And please do post and forward this freely)

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In Praise Of The Miraculous

by Jesse Wolf Hardin

www.animacenter.org

I remember well, back in the late 1970’s, the excitement generated by what many considered to be a modern day miracle.  A short order cook in the tiny mountain village of Taos Junction had flipped over a tortilla that he was frying, only to come face to face with a sepia-toned portrait of a sorrowful but all-forgiving Jesus Christ.  And a Jesus with an earthy sense of humor.  After rescuing it from the heat and saying the appropriate prayers, the perspiring chef showed it first to his envious coworkers and then to their astonished customers.  Meals and conversations came to a halt, while all clustered around the breakfast apparition.  Of those there at the time, the already devout had the fires of their beliefs well fueled, their convictions confirmed, their faith rewarded and confirmed.  One woman later claimed to have been cured of some unrecorded illness, and nobody contradicted her.  The sole atheist, it is said, began to reconsider his position, and to have actually admitted in public that not everything in the world could be adequately explained by the rational mind, nor qualified and quantified by scientific method.

I was only one of the several thousand people who came to witness the miracle over the course of the following few weeks, on display there for all to see.  There were up to 50 vintage pickups, family station wagons and low-riders parked there at any given time, as well as a smattering of chopped Harley-Davidson motorcycles driven up from Española.  A Mariachi band would drop by to provide entertainment for the onlookers, and in the evening the proprietor played cassette tapes on his boom-box, alternating between religious selections in Spanish and rock bands from the 50’s like The Platters, The Penguins, The Persuasions.  The least persuaded about its holy origins were the bikers, ordering two plates of huevos rancheros each… and the most convinced were the local farmers and ranchers, who felt there must have been a special reason why the apparition had appeared in New Mexico instead of El Paso, say, or in the rural West instead of somewhere in the more settled and sometimes more disbelieving East.  To settle the matter of the tortilla’s divine origins, the interested parties brought in the Arch Diocese of Santa Fe, but in the end he decided it was better not make a proclamation one way or the other.

He was a wise man.

Who can say, after all, what is a miracle and what is not?  The greatest mistake isn’t finding divine inspiration in the everyday, or holiness in the commonplace.  The greatest mistake is to take things for granted, failing to see in the familiar people, places and objects around us the suggestion of something larger, numinous and blessed.  We are surely all products of, and participants in, miracles, whether we are paying attention to them or not.

First, there is the miracle of life, no matter what you believe its cause.  What a tragedy, to forget even for a moment the wonder of each necessary breath, of our flesh and blood enabled somehow to move, to see, to know and better itself… to fall in love, to learn and to explore, to define and defend family and home, to serve something greater than ourselves alone, to paint pictures and write songs.

Some are big, like a precious little boy surviving a difficult brain operation.  Some seem smaller, but are still amazing, such as the way a cut heals itself until it disappears.  Or the way a pokey caterpillar turns into a butterfly, and then flies away.  It seems like a miracle to me, that we are allowed to outlast and potentially learn from our misjudgments and distortions.  That there are still exist rural communities like mine, in spite of the pressures of expanding world population and increased global regulation.  That there are still national forests, neither privatized nor subdivided, which all citizens have a right to and a responsibility for.  That there still exist places that appear fashioned by a specially empowered hand, land still unpaved and undeveloped, a home for myriad animals and plants and a place where all citizens can go to be quieted, nourished, strengthened and inspired.

As for myself, I see reflections of the miraculous in the eyes of loving children and in the way the mirror-like river turns the world upside down.  In the ascendent arc of little birds when they make their first scary flight.  In every gesture of caring or mercy, in these often uncaring and unforgiving times.  In wildflowers that somehow make it through waves of both flood and drought, and in the smiles of neighbors that still wave!  In the way that nature’s herbs can help heal you, and the way the most amazing plant begins its existence in the form of a most tiny seed.  In everything, most likely, can be found some evidence of the miraculous and the marvelous when we suspend our preconceptions and open to their greater meaning.

Over time, the image of Jesus faded as its edible canvas faced its inevitable decomposition.  Some say the short order cook and the faithful who flocked that followed were all mistaken in their interpretation.  I think that the bigger mistake (and this is no jest), is to look into even the most mundane and shapeless tortilla – into what can be the revealing patterns of our wondrous world and everyday lives – and behold anything less.

(distribute freely…)

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Animá Root Supporter Nick Morgan has given much of his life to building real community, celebrating and developing the arts including music… and bringing art and everyday reality back together again.  Anyone living in driving distance of San Francisco is invited to participate in their acclaimed fund raising event:

The Black Rock Arts Foundation

Artumnal Gathering

The Black Rock Arts Foundation invites you to the grandest annual celebration of our community’s vital spirit and extraordinary artists. Once again, we gather in the majestic Bently Reserve to revel in support of  BRAF’s mission to inspire art, community and civic participation worldwide.

Enter into an enchanted world of abundant art, captivating entertainment, and tempting libations. Participate in interactive art experiences created by community visionaries.  Be the art!

For more information or to register, go to the:

Artumnal 2009 Website

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Autumnal Greetings!

Autumn is  such a wonderful time of year. I sure appreciate the cold mornings after the long hot summer.  There he goes again, the chipmunk, Sunshine keeps on poking his head in at the window. He comes over in front of our windows to chew on grass when the sun rises so we have named him Sunshine. He’s no pet and we never get to pet him but it’s fun to watch as he scurries over the rocks nibbling at plants. There was one morning that I was writing in my diary a saw a woodpecker pecking at a juniper tree, I named her Woody. I shouldn’t have  named her I never saw her again and I do miss her. A few days ago when I was getting over a bad chest cold it snowed a little. Though it was beautiful it didn’t last long and melted when it touched the ground. Sometimes I’m envious of the people in Canada with all the snow they get.

Not that long ago Papa got me these cartoon books, they ‘re called Calvin and Hobbes. I am crazy about them, there are two books I have. I even am doing some things that Calvin and Hobbes did like for example they started a club called GROSS get rid of slimy girls club  well I did quite the oposite I made a Tree Star club. Calvin certainly was not very nice to girls but he was at that age he was six. Hobbes was his stuffed tiger, but Calvin was always pretending. So he pretended Hobbes was really alive could talk and sleep and play. So Hobbes was like his pretend best friend. I was jealous of Calvin and Hobbes, so now I have my own little stuffed fox named Farn. We have a high tree that we  can climb up and play in. I called the Tree Star club cause, well for one it’s a tree, for two at night I watch stars in it till it’s my bedtime.

Lately I have been very interested in astronmy I love astromny. Papa got me a space book that had all kinds of projects and stuff. Now I’ve made a astromners log and sighting tube. Papa lets me borrow his best binoaclers too! So often at night unless I have a new book I star gaze and write notes in my astromners log. Papa also bought me a matress, which feels great on my back! Gosh I’m so spoiled and well cared for. At the same time as he got me my matress Papa got me a small world globe, oh my goodness I could not express my joy. I had always wanted one of those. So now I’m using it with school, to help me with both my penmen ship and geograpy I’m writing a story of me going all over the world going to different places like Spain and Norway and stuff which is really fun for me.

We have been listening a lot to RISE and Arborea beacuse they are coming to the herbal conference but also just because they are so good.  Arborea is like the music of the forest spirits or something, if forest spirits played trippy banjo and faeries sang like Shanti.  They will be bringing their children Liam and Shyla and I hope I get to meet them and show them my canyon ways!  RISE is just so good for dancing, it really makes me want to get up and move!

Speaking of dancing, we sure had fun on Halloween, or Samhain as the ancient Celtic people named it.  I dressed up as ghost for fun and then a dressed as a Greenlady and Mama Loba did to. We had a leaf dance to were we gathered a whole bunch of leafes before Samain itself then we had a dance were somebody was the leafer and the other was a dancer and we took turns. The leafer was the person who threw leafes at the dancer as she danced. Mama Kiva was the fluter she played the flute while we danced and threw leafes. It sure was a wonderful celebration of the changing season. I hope you all enjoyed yours as well, but remember that every day is a day to celebrate too!

And please check out Papa’s next insalment of Pitfalls, you got to appreciate the help not stepping in them!

Love to all of you,

Rhiannon (9 years and 3 months)

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PITFALLS
On the Animá Path of Self Growth, Self Realization, Service & Purpose

by Jesse Wolf Hardin
www.animacenter.org
Part 4

Anyone on a path of self growth, self realization and purpose needs to be conscious of and honest about the distractions and comforting rationalizations, the over simplified ethnic romanticism, the imported and sanitized traditions, the non demanding relativism and easy ways out, and the get-enlightened-quick schemes that substitute for the real thing.  The following is the third in a series describing these dangerous or limiting Pitfalls on the path of personal growth and purpose, misconceptions and maladies that can hinder our understanding, development and manifestation.  Please feel to share these with friends, guaranteed to disrupt the pat thinking of New Age, spiritual and conservative audiences alike:

• The Myth Of The Hundredth Monkey
There is always a temptation for false hopes, as we embrace ideas that ease our concerns, ambivalence and worries.  And when investing ourselves in a path or course of action, we look for any comforting signs that our efforts will succeed in the end.  The “Hundredth Monkey” hypothesis asserts that major culture-wide shifts are certain to follow with the hundredth convert to a new idea or value, as momentum impacts the larger cultural and political stream.  Our efforts are far more sincere and committed, when they are based on the rightness of a cause or a need that we can help with, with no certainty of results or success.  We are indeed more apt to accomplish a purpose or goal when we act decidedly, regardless of the likelihood.

• The Myth That We Shouldn’t “Make Waves”
We like to protect and nourish, our role often being the maintenance of family and preservation of the nest.  It is more difficult, usually, for us to embrace change, and we have to be vigilant not to compromise our values, experience and purpose out of worry over upsetting people or upending situations.  The best path is not always the smoothest, and the path of our truth sometimes requires “making waves.”

• The Misinterpretation Of Peace
There is no peace per say in nature, only cycles of give and take, life and death, quiet and song, helping to strengthen as well define any seemingly contending parts, creating a perfect dynamic balance overall.  And true inner peace is neither acceptance of the seemingly inevitable, nor undemanding tranquility… it is the state of being sated and centered, even when faced with deprivation and turmoil.  Peace is a deep contentment that arises from self knowledge and self acceptance, an inner balance that – like a ship’s gyroscope – ensures personal peace no matter how much we are tossed about by the storms raging around us.  Peace is more a product of energetic focus and commitment, than it is of agreement.  We are most at peace with ourselves and our beliefs when they can stand the challenge of detractors, defy consensus, survive disagreement, and continue to grow without outside affirmation or support.  Such peace results not from accomplishment, so much as from the knowledge that we have done our best… and that we have done so for all the most generous and significant of reasons.  It comes from a feeling of connection to the rest of the dynamic, living world, and from the ongoing fulfillment of our most meaningful purpose.

…to be continued

(To further deepen your study and practice we recommend enrolling in the various Animá 8 Week Courses described on the website, especially the introductory “Orientation, Principles & Pitfalls”)

(Forward, copy and post freely)

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The following is the some of the new text for the Supporter page of the Animá website, describing the new forms for contributing financially to this place, practice and purpose.  We eliminated the Memberships, as that made it sound like this was an organization rather than a school and sanctuary, and lowered the minimum Supporter contribution so that nearly everyone can afford to participate who really wants to.  There are now 4 clear levels of Support for you to choose from, according to the degree of involvement and gratitude, and your ability to help.  Due to the difficult economic times we have lost the aid of several Supporters, so we have to thank you in advance for even considering becoming a Supporter yourself… any time, at any level.

Become an Animá Supporter

Supporters are the most crucial allies Animá could have, enabling everything that this project does, creates, and ultimately engenders and inspires in others… with vital monthly, annual or even occasional donations.

For a monthly pledge of only $25 or more you can become part of a small purposeful family, counted on and depended upon for consistent support.  And with your permission, you’ll be honored with a photo, brief bio and your URL if you like, acknowledging your important involvement in the Supporter Profiles section of the Animá website Support page.

Support Levels
There are 4 Levels of Support, depending on your ability to contribute, and how strongly you feel drawn to do so:

Leaves
…aiding the spread of lessons and tools, hopes and dreams, like the spreading of new foliage
$25 or more per month, or $300 or more annually

Branches
…the strength to bear the glad load, while reaching out ever further
$50 or more per month, or $600 or more annually

Trunk
…the firm stalk from which all branches out
$100 or more per month, or $1200 or more annually

Roots: Core Supporters
…the most committed level – earth-hugging roots that can be depended upon to keep everything from falling down even through the heaviest storms
$200 or more per month, $2400 or more annually

Plus, for anyone unable to commit to consistent donations, you can consider becoming an
Occasional Supporter
…contributing what you can when you are most able, or else when Animá has a particular or particularly urgent need

To read more about the school and sanctuary, our donation policy and what your donations provide, please go to the:
Support Page

To donate through PayPal, please click on:
Donate Now

Gratitude from us, and from all those we are able to help thanks to you!

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