Warrior Forest

Down to the River

“Oh, Sisters, let’s go down; let’s go down; don’t you wanna go down.  Oh, Sisters, let’s go down – down to the river to pray.”*  Or celebrate.  Or revel in the life of one of our own.

My community dropped its shields this week.  We felt wounded, not from without, from within.  The shields were dismantled between us.  We let ourselves be fragile, and in that space, to be clear that we loved our sister.  The sharing morphed from deeds, to conversations, to feelings, to acts of love, to gathering, to holding each other, to standing together as one with and for our sister.

Now we know who we are to each other.

* “Down to the River to Pray” 

Photo by Kathi Fox

Fire Circle

“We have so little to offer Nature, “ she said as her long, graying pony tail fell across her shoulder.  She leaned forward and threw corn and pinion scraps onto the fire.  The seeds sizzled and the pinion aroma dispersed, smoke flowing toward us.  Her voice modulated only slightly and the rhythm of her speech was consistent, this native of the NorthWest.

She faced the four directions and asked the spirit world for guidance to help us know what we were “here to create”.  She repeated it, in that fashion, numerous times.  The gourd rattled and she occasionally spit an aromatic mixture (or possibly, Tequilla) into the fire.  She added wood as she moved and taught us about this ritual.

All the while the big, white moon hung over the desert, as if it had been ordered up for our enjoyment. We sat in the circle, our focus caught between the moon and the fire.  We inhaled the warmth and unforgettable aromas as her voice instructed us:  “We have so little to offer Nature ……., so Walk in the Joy of Being Human.”

from Fire Circle, Utah, 3/18/11:  

Photo:  www.google.com:  Pinion Cone

Golden

Nothing Gold Can Stay  
by Robert Frost (1874-1963)



“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 sank to grief,


So dawn goes down to day.


For nothing gold can stay.”

‘Celebrating the forest world in yet another expression of dazzling beauty and the color GOLD!

Sarah              sarah@powerupeight.com

Photo found on www.bing.com

My health and fitness blog now available at www.sarahdeprin.wordpress.com

Silver Parachute

In the current bestseller, “The Hunger Games” *, contestants in the arena who are fighting for their lives, occasionally receive a gift – something they need.  It descends from the sky, totally unexpected and just in the nick of time, floating gently toward them under a silver parachute. 

In the Warrior Forest, silver parachutes can be spotted often.  They are simply, moments of “grace”.  A yogi “opens to grace” and her body evolves into the Wheel Posture – the backbend she has been seeking.  The mother, wanting to gift her child an opportunity, receives an unexpected check in the mail.  The student shops with her savings and finds the very items she wanted on sale.  The older man grins when the unusually cool rain interrupts the long days of heat.  The child’s attention is caught by the funny little gecko climbing on the fence and forgets his disappointment.  The grief-stricken soul awakens one morning, observes the beauty of dawn, and has hope in her heart.

Moments of Grace kind of “float in” without effort or merit.  Sometimes we are fatigued and not believing or having faith in life and goodness.  We are trudging – yes, trudging!  Then we see it, high up in the sky, glinting as it floats down to us, landing at our feet.  We smile because inside the wrapper is the very thing we need, and just in the nick of time.

In the Warrior Forest, we live in the field of all possibilities, and have faith! No effort, focus or expectation is required.  Gifts do come, and when one does, we smile and are alerted to the goodness of life.  The very thing we need is in our hands, brought by way of a silver parachute because we are loved. 

Sarah                        sarah@powerupeight.com

* The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Photo of One Seed “Parachute” from a Dandelion:  http://morningmacro.studiosaynuk.com

Path of Happiness

A fat squirrel perches on one of the lower, substantial limbs, clutching an acorn.  Her furry body becomes almost concave as she wraps herself around it, her front feet attached to the shell.  It’s as if the encased nut has become part of her – the whole center of her, and it would take a mighty force to take it from her.

A short while passes and, still holding dear the acorn, she scampers in toward the trunk, down to the ground, and off along the path that winds through the Warrior Forest.  The path is obscure, and occasionally becomes visible if an animal, like this squirrel, follows it and draws attention.  It winds and dips, then climbs around boulders and past trees, as it seems to flow, marked by wild flowers, through the woodland.  There are no signs that this path exists and few humans find it.  Those that do are focused, looking for it, and enthusiastic.  For that reason, the inhabitants of the Warrior Forest call it the Path of Happiness.

Michael Singer has written in his book, Untethered Soul, that the greatest spiritual study is the Path of Happiness.   Chapter after chapter offers guidance for releasing the dramas that play out in front, as we learn to sit behind it all in quietness, and commit our lives to the pursuit of happiness, and in fact, to being happy.  I think of this as I see the squirrel holding fast her acorn.  I imagine that my own joy is a large nugget in the center of myself, that I mentally sit behind it, and all the dramas that I create out there can amuse me, or distress me, or please me, or frighten me, and cannot pass through the wall of my nugget self.

It’s not about “looking on the bright side”.  Once one is committed to the Path of Happiness, one is ON the bright side.  It is not about effort; it is about choice.  Gratitude begins to flow through one’s self, involuntary and never ending, rather than a practice to effect change.  The happiness is no longer an emotion that is sometimes felt, but rather, the bloom of the Radiant Self.  It would take a mighty force to take it.

Some days this path is as easy as breathing, and some days I find myself choosing one of many dramas.  (It’s a mental thing.)  This Path of Happiness is my practice for now; and it is my most precious truth to share.

Sarah sarah@powerupeight.com

Photo by Tanner Deprin

Summer Berry Picking

Several miles from the Warrior Forest, and centered in a rolling valley is a berry farm.  The paved road becomes dirt and winds into the center of it, where stands an old wooden shed with some beautiful hardwoods growing close and giving shade.   It is one of those structures that makes one nostalgic because it is a simple, unpainted rectangle with a corrugated metal roof, rusty here and there, AND has gorgeous Butterfly bushes vining over the edges, blooming their soft lavender flowers.  The dirt around the shed is packed down, and there are stacks of wooden baskets on the porch and deck where customers/pickers can tally up.  Wooden benches, an outdoor sink and cold water are available too.

 Mature blueberry bushes inhabit most of the land in straight rows, many seven to eight feet high.  There is a parcel given to blackberries, a section for fig trees, and three varieties of grape vines growing along the fenceline and in the higher, terraced regions of the farm.  Ground hoses run here and there with the perforations that allow a slow trickle of water to moisten the earth around the roots.  It is an organic farm and one feels free to partake of the fruit while picking – settling up on that later – in a creative way, I might add.

I am stunned by the beauty of this place and the voluptuous growth, the food and nourishment the earth gives up so generously.  We pick, we eat, we take home to share, and there is plenty.  What a sensuous pleasure to reach out with one’s amazing fingers and select a plump berry or grape and then to taste its liquor!  How delightful to be weaving through the big bushes along with the birds and the butterflies!

Our basket fills easily, and it is difficult to stop.  We are momentarily addicted to this game and the delight we experience.  We return to the shed and tally up on our very full basket, then take a bill or two over to the “sin” bucket, and “pay up” for our continuous snacking.  Next to the bucket is a tall-mounted school bell with a rope pull.  After we pay we ring the bell and acknowledge our “sin”.  The money we have deposited will be donated to Hospice, and we are humored by the farmer’s ingenuity here.  Sure: it could be called something else, and yet, “sin bucket” gives us a chuckle because “atonement” is so easy and beneficial to others.  Hmmm….

Sarah

sarah@powerupeight.com

Private Showing

There is a Canna Lily blooming over my trashcan.

            No one sees the bloom but me.

The plant grows tall and when I walk outside,

            Her vivid face I see.

My neighbor’s over-watering

            Delivers moistened earth.

The thick stem rises from her root

            A tall and leafy birth.

The red-orange face asserts and states

            Her presence very clear.

Flaunting the color of conviction

            She stares at me: a dare!

This Cannaceae is a contender - sure,

            The award for Big and Bold;

She is not shy; she won’t be missed;

            My attention she will hold!

Is this a waste of resource, when

            Only I can see?

Could Nature be more circumspect,

            Display for all humanity?

Or does she challenge with this gift

            My courage to ignite?

Do I have the time for wondering

            What for me is “right”?

There is a Canna Lily blooming over my trashcan.

            No one sees the bloom but me.

This singular extravagance provides

            A certain luxury….

Or has Wild Mother’s presence

            Already moved ahead?

Is she sauntering on with laughter:

            “Move on!  You ain’t yet dead!”

Sarah sarah@powerupeight.com

Photo:  www.bing.com

Bee in the Forest

Little Paolo, the Power Up Bee, zooms through the Warrior Forest.   He has flown far from his flight crew of fellow drones.  They are all busy extracting nectar from the wild flowers that grow so well in the meadow close by, and they accept Paolo’s radical behavior.  They are committed to their work, and Paolo is committed to the thrill of flight.

When the drone cloud lifted from the nest this morning, Paolo was right in front, soaring up and up and confident that he was leading the way!  Had he chanced a look behind him he would have seen that the other bees were content to find the closest blooms, pacing their energy for nectar retrieval and transport back to the nest.  They didn’t seem to be feeling the thrill of flying …. I mean, flying!!

While his flight team follows its instinct and pulls the plant nectar, Paolo flies higher and higher and further away.  He has lost sight of the blooms, thrilled with his ability, floating on the oxygen given off by the warrior trees.  He lands occasionally and almost immediately propulses up for more of the thrill.

Abruptly, the little bumblebee senses the timing of the drone sortie and flies toward the meadow, and in his thrill he captures an extremely pure air fuel and accomplishes his nectar load quickly, tailing the crew into the nest at the very last second. 

Paolo is the happiest drone in the hive.  He is responsible and true to his “bee nature” and he augments his short life with his love for flying, zipping in and out of the purity of the Warrior Forest.  He has no concept of comparison and he doesn’t know how to think too much.  He has learned, however, to power UP!

Sarah                        sarah@powerupeight.com

The Forest Blessing

There are many reasons to visit the Warrior Forest.  Beings come here to revitalize, to strengthen, to gather the rich nourishment from the earth here, to enjoy the quiet, to learn to merge with the natural world, and some to receive the Blessing.  What is the Blessing, you ask?  It is a moment when all the trees of the forest stand in the stillness and the strength of the Warrior and hold one being in our hearts and salute this being with gratefulness.  One such being comes here today.

Travis is our canine friend, born over eighteen years ago, a Cocker Spaniel, almost one hundred percent black.  Now there is grey, especially on his muzzle, which gives him a quite distinguished look.  Not much is known of his first months, and one day he found himself in a clinic, where a young boy assistant was drawn to give him special attention.  When no one came for Puppy Travis the boy took him home to his mother, who became, over the rest of the pup’s years, his most adoring “mistress”.  Travis, being quite intelligent, knew she was his guardian angel from the moment she touched him.

Travis was what is called, “show quality” with perfect structural symmetry, a thick and beautiful hair coat, the to-die-for ears, and a wise little face with exceptional dark eyes.  He had “presence”, even as a puppy, so much so that he was sometimes referred to as “Prince Travis”, and that was the name he lived up to.  He quickly became the perfect companion.

The beautiful woman was a musician and she and Travis travelled far and wide, giving concerts that praised the wild creatures of this planet, often raising money for sanctuaries.  Sometimes he would be a model as his mistress taught others how to touch their domestic animals.  He was the perfect companion, because, most of all he was always there for her.  And, in kind, she lavished him with acknowledgement, the best of care, and unending love.  They lived in integrity with each other.

Prince Travis is still the perfect companion and his mistress is still his Guardian Angel.  She and we know that a journey is ahead for him.  Today we hold Travis in our hearts and as the recipient of our gratefulness.  We invoke a gentle cloud of forest energy to make his journey easy, and we salute his divinity.  Namaste’

Sarah                        sarah@powerupeight.com

Photo: Sylvan Glade Magic Forest, www.bing.com

The Awakening Land

Elizabeth Montgomery starred in a television series many years ago, called “The Awakening Land”, a story about pioneers who settled in Ohio.  The first of the three part series was entitled, “The Trees”.  She and her family left community, journeyed to the Ohio Valley in a Connestoga wagon, and settled on a parcel of land.  It was all virgin forest, and though beautiful, was not open enough for life-affirming agriculture.  She found it dark too, and was overjoyed when a small window was delivered by an arriving pioneer family.

During the second of the series, “The Fields”, many trees were felled around the cabin and seeds were planted.  The heroine and her family worked hard to expand the fields, to harvest greater crops and to share with newcomers, who settled similarly.  A community evolved, and in a few years a very open landscape of fertile land came to be.

The third of the series, “The Town” opens with our heroine ensconced in a fine home on a bluff overlooking the town below.  By the end of this final segment she is overcome by the scarcity of trees, remembering how beautiful the forests were when she had first arrived, and she makes a decision to plant some seedlings.  And so, the cycle continued.

Trees are like bookmarks in our lives, links to favorite memories, or stanchions of joyous experiences for us.  They sometimes become symbols of destruction as well, when “natural disasters” occur.  Like them we grow; we flourish; we are attacked by storms; we experience blight; we heal; or we become the rich, deciduous layer that spawns life.   Within the cycle we continually have gifts to share, exhaling the oxygen of a “fertile” idea, a story, a poem, a dance, a sport technique, or a song.  We root deep; we reach high; we breathe; we awaken.

Sarah                        sarah@powerupeight.com

Photo:  Chequers Tree by Andrew Dunn, www.bing.com