Sunday, March 20, 2011

My Safe Places


dancing with the Incas in their ancient worship of the holy snow-capped Andes
floating off towards untouchable blue Tibetan peaks with chanting Buddhist monks
surfing with the seals in the rich smelling foamy waves there in a far-off NorCal paradise
pollinating lovely infrared flower patterns with the other bees on my honey-making job

spending time in the New Stone Age, crafting tools and fighting cave bears
orbiting our earth at the very limit of the exosphere, taking in all her colors
roiling with a strong clean river, smelling the big migrating salmon flashing all around me
getting covered with red desert sandstone dust in all its finely-ground Anasazi grace

peeping out with tiny montane tundra flowers after 8 months beneath deep snow
speeding with the suns reflection across the cup of a huge, cleanly breaking swell
pausing beneath the midnight sun to watch the rivers running to the north
taking in the winter light from a panoramic southern exposure, far from any road

pushing across the bluest sky with the puffy clouds on that perfect day in May
Hunting with the dolphins, co-operating with the bluefins, feeding on the life force
Losing my pre-conceptions as I drop their illusions and tear up my prescriptions
Circulating with the oceanic currents, from the surface to the bottom, all around the globe

Slaloming the methane powder mountains all alone, on the active moons of Saturn
Savoring fresh Indian ocean sushi with the great whites off the coast of South Africa
crossing the Bering Strait with mammoths, admiring vast herds of ice age mega-fauna
fattening with the giant brown bears as my coat grows thick and glossy

watching the first spring sunrise with the emperors on Antarctica’s frozen coast
dining on tons of krill strained through my baleen right alongside the great blue whales
gleaming in the dancing rainbows off the shimmering green cliffs of the Hawaiian coast
sighing with the ponderosa pines as we hear another gust of autumn wind approaching

waiting on the tide for dinner as the rain tinkles above us on the Inside Passage
riding on the chords of good music to a place so far above, where I can only try to stay
watching the sled dogs pull our family away from my final place, alone upon an ice floe
raking that impeccable garden for an eternal moment in a quiet Zen sanctuary

searching blue canyonland shadows with the eyes of a Navajo medicine man
painting spirit creatures on the walls of our ceremonial cave in ancient Spain
meditating with the Buddha beneath the great tree of life, pondering the river’s gentle whispers
gazing up from sunlit coral gardens through the warm waters of our mother ocean

searching for more reassuring sign of the totem that guides me all the days of my life
crying out with the hawks far above by the cliffs where the sunset still radiates
howling with the wolfpack at 30 below beneath the aurora borealis, feeling our mortality
seeking that ancient understanding pulsing so close beneath the thin skin of things

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