One
Spirit writing, spirit drawing
 a light player plays.
Playing color, opening fruit
vibrations of transparency.
Spirit made, playing matter.

Two
What does it matter for matter to matter.
It needs to be played by spirit.
Is your shadow of serious getting in the way again?

Three
Laying down tobacco, call in the empty vessel.
Allow the breath to become the holy flute.
Unadorned, animated by wind, open to the dirt of being.
Step through shadow to play as light.

Four
Unknown knowing, mastery in play, awaken out of your mind.
See the sea through the black hole, open eye of unknowing knowing.

Five
Can you open to hearing as a flute opens to breath warm and lush?
The landscape of color traveling through spirals of sea shell to register where?
Where in your mind palace does hearing occur?

Six
Yard bird calls to lawnmower’s,
Crepe Myrtle pour color as vibrating waves of pink on arching front porch.
No one comes to notice.
Only the yard man to spray chemical mist,
spraying away the very bee’s that create the bloom.

Seven
All matter of buzzing stops.
Yet color vivid, vibrates still.
What color vibrates, red, pink or purple?
Are you healed by seeing?
Can bird song open your heart?
Where do you long to be?

Eight
Energy of color vibrating you of hidden hills.
The house at the bottom of the drive.
A river of light flowing from north to south.
Owls nesting in the east canopy.
Red, red, all ages of red, barking chirps to each other and to me.
Finding the hidden places to rebirth the union.
Seeing the lines in the air as the birds arch to and fro.
Stillness are hills hidden, no bother of city noise or light of night.

Why didn’t you ever tell me to watch how it moves, see how it flows each step toward a new beginning?
If no one is central and all are equal parts of the whole then separation into individualization would be an an expression of the whole as well?
I watch as the tributaries separate and unite, the linage of my river, what lies before and what and where that river travels after I am no longer me.
Before me Carty’s, Trainor's, England, Ireland, Scotland going so far back to have been on the Mayflower. Then going in another direction, Henderson’s, Gagliardo’s, Scully’s into tributaries/branch’s of Bianca, and then Maisy, Quinlyn, Alistair, Tatum, Sebastion, Fiona, Griffin, Windsor and a baby yet to be in the river yet.
All central to the whole, each tributary connected into the human organization that guides all life within my body. I watch and see how they flow. Each a unique expression of the whole, none better that the other yet each greater the they can see.
What is the legacy you are leaving for these tributaries flowing from your stream? How is this legacy connected to the cosmic river of life? Do you leave an imprint of love in memories with those you love?
These musings a reminder of teachings learned on my journey to medical women taught by Karen, Judy the Shaman’s of Peru.  Musings of the  three type of connections kayo the smallest of streams, payan the equivalent of a local river, and Kollana, an ocean. Choosing to take these type of connections to explain all connections from our relationships with each other, to nature and to the cosmos.
Asking the question of connection, how are your connections and how do you relate to these types of connections? What do you in-train to? Do you get stuck in Kayo trickles, little muddy puddles? Finding yourself splashing around in old wounds, dramas and stories. What if you never to choose to flow from the river to the sea of connection choosing to thrash around in backyard puddles?
I see light of the milky way reflecting in your eyes. I travel in stillness in, through a portal of light seeing the river flow to the sea. A kollana connection in the eyes of my grandchildren. Maisy your love, beauty, you who hold space for all to sit, unique open, tolerant of all. To chose to not be involved in the drama of high school pattern’s of society. To make space for "I see you” love. This Payan river of love flows from me to you and from you to me. This connection, this seeing see’s in and beyond into a Kollana connection.
Quinlyn traveling in your eyes as you learn and share your learning with me, never critical of another. You who can see solutions to needs of others, joyful in exploring.
I see each, I watch each, I travel through a connection of linage eye to eye, heart to heart a channeling connections of kollana love.

An altered un-reality
it’s an altered un-reality.
Can you see how funny it would be if you just let go of your known reality and the un-known divinely suited for you, your very own altered un-reality would come rushing in so happy to be home?
The unsettled things in your life are only your hungry ghosts haunting you to find fault in the very unfolding of magic.
An altered un-reality of seeing that the very name you thought to name your business RECLAIM BELONGING could by seeing in your new altered way say RECLAIM BELONGINGS and who whats to reclaim someones old worn out belongings? Seeing in the un-altered way it made sense to name the business RECLAIM BELONGING, for this was the essence of the idea of coming home to your belonging, the very core of what inspires you. Yet now all ropes are cast off and the ship of altered un-reality has left port, never to dock on that shore of reclaimed belongings again.
At times it feels a bit unsettled not having strong opinions to feel and feeling of settled even when all around feels unsettled. This feeling of rocking to a sea of joy, I could never have imagined. A joy unbounded by circumstances, so little needed to maintain, so much time in this new space of abundance. A birth of light has occurred inside that stillness, inspired and cradled. New light unattached to outside influence.
I remember my magnetism test, May 2015, Dona Alayha, Cuzco Peru, testing on where I was and what I had to work on to increase my magnetism to become the earth keeper a member of the Light of the Earth.  Remember how you walked in counterpoint neutral, the peacock feathers parted in her hands when you were 50 feet away. Remember that writing on the black board, unique messages for me, that age is just and number, and you are ageless and timeless. Remember you now are stepping into this new are of timelessness. That all is done in un-doing. This is the altered un-reality. The way of what this outward world might think insane yet your remembering knows is home.

I made up my mind to let go of the vulture eye.

The eye (I) watching for the way into a conversation, a place to dominate with my opinion.

What if you took your dear self to the party of life and you only asked questions?

Refusing to name anything, to not add your opinion to the soup of conversation. The need to be heard in the crowd less important than the listening, the asking, the wondering. Creating your life like a performance art piece. Each interaction another question, another skit. Nothing more important than being in the now to capture the essence of energy.
How many times do you find yourself on a desert island of human gatherings, a place so lonely and desolate your drowning. All of the humans wanting only to  drink in validation, to thirsty themselves to offer water.
Some dominate, others eat, some are loud drinking wine and letting that spirit control their very essence. Each human hooked up to their IV of choice, looking to hook up for sustenance. Some like drama so the relationships of childhood get acted out in a playground full of grey haired 3rd graders.
Choosing to come together to hear and ask the questions of a life, to wonder rather than play in the childhood playground of patterned society/culture. Who bullies, who shares, who cares, who is the victim, one up, one down? What if we all stepped away from ‘normal culture” and became wildly whimsical, bumping, playing, caring and listening?
Gratitude for the separation away from self, to become a little more selfless. To listen, truly listen without waiting to pounce with a opinion. Asking the question of “What is your vision of the future of the world?” The depth of connection deepens and the desert blooms with possibilities. seeing each human flower unique and exquisite in it’s place. Removed from the well worn tracts of habitual behavior, free to dream.